#ultimate predator x you
Text
fake it
joel miller x f!reader
rating: explicit, 18+ mdni
summary: does joel know you well enough to know when you're faking it?
warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] smut, smut, smut, it's pretty much entirely smut, dirty talk, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, faked orgasm, panty sniffing, cunnilingus.
word count: 5.7k
masterlist
a/n: i've had this idea worming around in my head for days and i just had to get it out so heRE WE GO
“We’ll stop here for the night.”
Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of Joel’s voice, and the truck rolled to a stop as he parked it in the middle of a field, directly on the edge of a thick forest. The three of you had been on the road for hours since leaving Bill and Frank’s place, and you’d drifted in and out of a fitful sleep for the past few hours, painfully aware that it was your turn to take first watch once you stopped somewhere for the night.
“Fucking finally,” Ellie grumbled from the backseat, and Joel shot her an annoyed glance through the rear-view mirror.
It was already dark outside, and you shone a torch ahead into the inky black mass as the three of you spread your sleeping bags out on the ground. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, adrenaline spiking in the darkness. You’d always been afraid of it; the dark, and what lurked within it. And being in the middle of a field, late at night, unable to make a fire, was surely one of the worst case scenarios you could think of.
“You guys sure we’re safe out here?” Ellie asked warily. You noticed her eyes staring out across the forest, trying to spot anything through the thick mass of tall trees.
When Joel didn’t answer her immediately, his own eyes drifting outward to gaze into the darkness, your stomach dropped. After a second of too much silence you discreetly elbowed him in the side. His head snapped around to look at you, frowning as he rested a hand on his rib.
“We’re fine,” you assured Ellie quickly, raising your eyebrows at Joel, as if to say, right?
“Yeah,” he said, eyes sliding from you to her. “No one’s gonna find us out here. You should get some sleep, we’re movin’ early in the morning.”
She nodded, still looking somewhat unconvinced, before slipping into her sleeping bag and rolling over so that her back was to the pair of you. You stared at your partner for a moment, chest aching with anxiety, hating the way his tone of voice hadn’t calmed your nerves.
Too anxious to sit down and rest for a moment, you shouldered a hunting rifle instead, positioning yourself close to the truck, where you could see both of them clearly. Every few minutes you rotated your body, watching the trees from every angle, making sure you would notice if there was even the slightest sound or movement. You hands grew clammy where they held the gun, and you had to readjust your grip on it every once in a while.
“What’re you doin’?” Joel’s voice drifted over to you after a little while. You turned, huffing out a laugh when you saw him lazing on his sleeping bag, sipping from his flask of whiskey.
“What am I doing?” you chuckled. “What are you doing?”
“Getting’ drunk on the job,” he smirked, tipping his head back as he drank. You swallowed thickly, smile fading as you stared at his long, thick neck, and the way it was exposed when he tilted his chin up. It had been weeks since the two of you had done anything more than kiss, too preoccupied with Ellie, and getting to Wyoming.
It was as if Joel could sense where your thoughts had travelled, because his expression darkened, eyes squinting greedily at you from across the open space.
“Why don’t you come over here, darlin’,” he said, resting a hand on his thigh.
“Joel,” you warned quietly, but he just patted his thigh in encouragement, taking a long sip from his flask.
“Just c’mere.”
You spared a glance around you, will power hanging by a thread, but ultimately shook your head, refusing. Joel let out a huff and stood up. He moved slowly, eyes never straying from your face as he stalked towards you, like a predator hunting his prey. And you watched him, tongue darting out to wet your lips as he came to rest beside you, leaning against the truck. Doing your best not to look at him, you tightened your grip on the gun and allowed yourself to lean back against the vehicle as well.
Joel held out the flask to you. “What’s got you so worked up, sugar?”
Casting an irritated glance in his direction, you snatched the flask from his hand and took a long swig, welcoming the stinging distraction as the liquid burnt down your throat.
“You know I hate the dark,” is all you said.
He hummed from low in his throat, nodding once. He stretched out a hand and snagged one of your belt loops with his finger, tugging you quickly into his side. You stumbled into his chest with a sharp gasp of surprise.
“It’s not so bad,” his deep voice drawled, plush lips grazing your ear. You shivered, tucking the flask away before placing a hand on his chest, your fingertips digging into the soft muscle there. “Nothin’ scary about it.”
Joel let his nose trace along the shell of your ear, and then across your cheek, and then his fingers were gripping your chin, turning your face to his..
His lips claimed yours in a bruising kiss, sucking and biting, lathing his tongue along your bottom lip until you welcomed him into your mouth with a pitiful sigh. His tongue pressed against yours, stroking slowly, coaxing your jaw open. You were vaguely aware of his other hand gripping the zip on your jacket and tugging it down. Heat flared in your abdomen, and you gripped the collar of his jacket, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and pulling back, enjoying the way he groaned as you stretched it out before releasing it with a wet pop.
You watched, glossy-eyed and already a little dazed, as Joel pried the gun out of your hands. He placed it gently onto the bed of the truck. His hand traced over your stomach, fisting the material intermittently, and then he was gripping your hips, spinning you so your chest was to the car, and he was pressed firmly against your back.
“Joel,” you muttered nervously, but he ignored you, sponging kisses behind your ear, suckling on the sensitive spot where your neck met your jaw. You could feel him, hot and hard against the curve of your ass. One of his hands drifted along the softness of your lower stomach, toying with the hemline of your shirt, and a stuttered gasp escaped your lips.
Sharp teeth grazed your neck, nipping at the skin and then he was lapping over it with his tongue, soothing the piercing ache he’d caused. You sighed at the feeling, rutting backward against him. You allowed your eyes to drift shut. And then they slammed back open again, as you realised neither of you would be keeping watch if you shut them. Joel’s face was hidden against your neck, there was no way he would see if anyone snuck up on the camp. Your heart thundered in your chest at the thought, and you kept your eyes open from then on.
“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he whispered against your skin, voice rough and wanton with need. “I’ve been missin’ you.”
“What abou-“
“She’s asleep,” he reassured, grip on your waist tightening. You could feel the way he was straining against his jeans, cock desperate and begging to be touched, as if he’d been thinking about this moment for hours, days, weeks. The ache between your thighs grew painful, and you rubbed against him harder.
“We have to be quiet,” you murmured quickly.
His only response was the distinct sound of his belt clinking, and then a shuffling noise as he dragged his pants low enough to free himself from the tight confines of his underwear. Not wasting a second, he gripped the waistband of your jeans and tugged them down as well, only satisfied when they rested around your knees, giving him full access to you.
One of his fingers glided messily between your folds and he sighed into your ear, marvelling at how wet you were for him already.
“Fuck,” he hissed. “Wish I could put my mouth on you right now. Know you’d taste so good for me, baby, always do.”
You groaned. A soft, pathetic sound.
“It’s been so long,” he groused, and you murmured your agreement. It felt like you were suspended in the air, anticipation holding you firmly in its grasp as you waited for him to do something, anything. “Can’t stand it; s’all I could think about today.”
He tapped the rough pad of a finger against your clit and your entire body flinched forward against the car. As if he could sense the way your knees were buckling, his free arm wrapped around you, holding you up. You murmured his name desperately, hips pushing down against his hand.
“Should I fuck you with my fingers first?” he asked quietly, middle finger circling your entrance. “Or should I let my cock stretch you out?”
When you didn’t answer, mind too fuzzy to string a sentence together, he said, “Hmm?”
“Please,” you keened roughly, turning to glance at him over your shoulder. “Just want you, need you inside me.”
You saw the way the muscle in his jaw worked, lips pursed together as tension rolled through his shoulders. And then his cock was gliding through your folds, smearing your slick over his length, before the blunt tip of him nestled at your entrance. A harsh shout left your lips as he pushed himself, bottoming out in one thrust. Instantly, one of his hands slapped over your mouth, fingertips pressing into your cheek. Your eyes widened, darting around the clearing that surrounded you both on all angles.
“This ain’t gonna work if you do that,” Joel said gruffly, adjusting his hips so he pulled out halfway, before pressing himself back into you. The burn was delicious, and you fluttered around him, gripping him tightly after so much time missing him inside you. A garbled version of your name escaped him, and you whimpered in response, bucking your hips backwards, silently begging him to continue.
He set a gruelling pace, pressing into you relentlessly. One hand covered your mouth while the other gripped the front of your shirt tightly, holding your body still as he fucked into you. When your body jolted against the car from a particularly rough thrust, he muttered a gruff apology into your ear, but didn’t let up. Back arching, you contracted around him, revelling in the sound of the muted groans being let out against the back of your neck.
You bit down into his palm, a muffled cry escaping you. The thought of Ellie waking up and discovering the pair of you flitted through your mind and you cringed. But it disappeared from your mind just as quickly, Joel’s movements driving it away.
The air filled with sounds of heavy breaths and an odd squelching sound, as your slick squeezed around his cock and dripped out of you. Low curses spilled into the atmosphere, and Joel was saying something, speaking to you, but you couldn’t hear him over the roar of blood in your ears. Everything was heightening. The muscles in your abdomen tightened and twitched with every movement of him inside you, and your hips strained backwards, meeting him thrust for thrust. It was all so fast, so desperate, and your body was begging for release after being left untouched for weeks.
But right as you felt yourself reach a precipice, as Joel pushed himself to hit the deepest part of you, everything was ruined.
Because a violent image ripped through your mind of someone storming into the camp in that moment and dragging Ellie out of her sleeping bag. Of someone pointing a gun at you and Joel, while you were defenceless. The darkness of the night seemed to crush in around you, reminding you of its presence and suffocating you. Anybody, or anything, could be out there right now, watching and waiting for the right moment to strike.
Goosebumps rose across your skin. You gasped at the thought, icy dread spiralling through your veins, your orgasm drawing further and further from reach. Except Joel took your gasp as a good sign, and groaned in response, hand dropping your stomach to toy with your clit as his thrusts grew jerkier. You jerked against him, mewling into his hand. It felt good. It felt so fucking good, and yet you couldn’t focus, too distracted to lure back the orgasm that had been dancing in the edges of your periphery.
Your head was a violent jumble of pleasure and panic. A devastated moan tumbled from your lips, mouth hanging open as the head of Joel’s cock angled against your g-spot.
“There?” he asked breathlessly, and you nodded, reaching to grip the back of his neck. He moved faster, pushing and pulling and hitting that spot over and over. And you could feel the coil inside of you burn again, liquid heat spreading through your limbs as your body tried to reach that high again, but it just wasn’t fast enough. The car was cold against the front of your body, and your brain was on such high alert, that you knew you wouldn’t be able to get there.
“Come with me,” Joel encouraged gruffly, fingertips holding your jaw in a bruising grip. “Come on now, let me have it.”
He was so close. You could feel it in the way his rapid heartbeat crashed against your back; in the ragged breaths that were exhaled across your neck. His hips were stuttering against you, thighs tense. And you wanted him to feel good. Wanted him to let go after so long – god, he deserved it. So you did something you’d never done with Joel before.
You faked it.
Your chin tilted upward to the sky, and you let deep, elongated breaths rattle through your chest, singing his name into the palm of his hand. Joel made a deep guttural sound. His fingers rubbed messy circles against your clit, and you bucked against him, heart thrashing in your chest. He said you’resotight, and you said I’m comingohgodJoelohfuck, and through it all, you could feel it growing inside of you. Your lungs burned inside your chest. He was stretching you so perfectly, so deliciously, and you let out a genuine moan at the feeling of his rough thrusts. You could feel him in the bones of your skull, in the tips of your toes, and in every inch of your body in between, and yet you needed more.
Joel trembled, his entire body shaking against yours. You felt his cock jump inside you in quick, jerky movements and clenched around him, and then he exhaled a deep groan, and went still.
After a few moments, he pulled out, and you gasped at the cold sensation. Rapid breaths left his mouth, he peppered soft kisses down the side of your neck, removing his hand from your face only to wrap both arms around your torso and hold you against him. Your core ached, clenching around nothing as his spend seeped out of you, spilling onto your inner thighs.
Turning in his arms, you offered him a dazed look. Your body was hot, coiled like a string pulled taught, waiting to snap. He kissed you, with less rush this time, and you returned it lazily, reaching down to tug your pants up over your hips again. Your tried not to cringe as your underwear pressed against you. You were uncomfortably wet, and the cold material stuck to your tacky skin. Joel did the same.
Pulling back from the kiss, you rubbed the side of your jaw, flexing your mouth open in an attempt to soothe the ache that had settled there. Joel watched you all the while. His dark eyes flickered over your face, trying to see you through the darkness.
“You good?” he asked quietly, at the same time as you heard a twig snap somewhere in the trees, off to your left. Your head snapped to the side, eyes glaring out through the thick inky black, ears straining. “Baby?”
“Sorry,” you said, shaking your head slowly. “Thought I heard something.”
Strong fingers gripped your chin, turning you to face him once more. A frown had settled across his face, eyebrows drawn tight across his forehead. His lips were a thin line, and his chest still shook as he regulated his breathing, but you could see it there; the understanding. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest as nervousness zipped through your body. He knew. There was no way, you told yourself. No way he could have known. And yet the longer you stared at each other, the deeper his frown got.
Wordlessly, his hand dropped between your bodies, and he pressed his palm against your mound through your pants. A soft sound of surprise escaped your mouth as his fingers curled against you, pressing against where your clit ached. You whimpered softly, numb fingers gripping his hand and holding it against you. Recognition flashed in his eyes, and you stilled, hand going lax on top of his.
“Fuck,” Joel said gruffly. “Fuck.”
You opened your mouth to speak, to deny it, to tell him it was fine, to say anything, but a rustling sound caught both of your attention. It was coming from the same spot as before, only this time it seemed louder, more pronounced. Your breathing paused.
“Get in the truck,” he said.
“Joel,” you tried, panic laced through your voice.
“Get in the truck now,” he said, grabbing the hunting rifle from the truck bed. “I’ll get the kid.”
Blood rushed in your ears as you walked swiftly to the passenger side of the truck, swinging yourself up into the seat and shutting the door behind you as softly as possible. Anxious goosebumps rippled across your skin as you stared out the window into the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of Ellie or Joel. Minutes passed, and then the doors opened, and Ellie slumped inside, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, as Joel slammed into the driver’s seat, starting the car and tearing out of the field.
“Did you see anything?” Ellie asked from the backseat.
“No,” he said, not looking at either of you.
“Then why are w-“
“Go back to sleep,” Joel ordered her firmly, and you cringed at his tone, turning in your chair to offer her a sympathetic smile. She didn’t return it, laying down across the backseats and turning her back on the pair of you.
The car was entirely silent as Joel drove the three of you back onto a road, and continued heading towards Kansas City. And as much as your body yearned for sleep, you found yourself wide awake, eyes focused out the windscreen, watching the tarnished landscape pass you by, exposed up by the car’s headlights.
After an hour of driving, Joel finally spoke.
“Ellie?” he said, tone even.
No response came from the back seat. You watched him out of the corner of your eye. He repeated her name.
Satisfied when there was no response, he spared a glance in your direction, before turning back to look at the road.
As if against your own will, you whispered his name quietly, pleadingly.
“Don’t,” he practically growled.
“I’m s-“
“You thought I wouldn’t know?” his lip curled upward, a grimace painting his face. “Think that I don’t know you well enough to know when you’re faking it?”
Your entire body stilled. Heat prickled across your skin, and you prayed to a god you didn’t believe in that Ellie was truly asleep in the backseat. Your hands were clammy, and you wiped them fruitlessly against the material of your jeans, unsure of what to say. He waited for you to speak, and when you didn’t, a loose sigh rattled from his chest.
“You do this thing,” he said quietly. “When you come.”
“What?”
“This huge smile,” he frowned. “Like you can’t help yourself. Like it felt so good, that you can’t control your face, and you smile so big I can see every one of the fuckin’ teeth in your skull.”
“Joel—"
“Every time,” he interrupted firmly.
“I-“
“And I didn’t realise,” he whispered harshly. “How much I look for it – that I wait for it, I god damn expect it.”
“I’m sorry,” you murmured feebly, heat flashing through you. You gazed at the side of his tense face, stomach twisting at his words. You’d never known you did that. Never known he would notice if one day you didn’t.
“You’re sorry?” Joel scoffed. His hands gripped the wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. “You should be angry.”
You watched him with bated breath.
“First time I touched you in weeks, and I didn’t even make sure…,” he trailed off, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip. “Like you’re some fuckin’ toy.”
“It was good, Joel,” you spoke in a hushed tone, glancing over your shoulder at Ellie’s back. “I swear, I was just distracted, and it was dark, an-“
“It’s not good with me,” he said curtly, and you stopped, wetting your lips anxiously.
Before you could say anything else, a soft murmuring came from the backseat, as Ellie started to wake up once more. You cringed, straightening in your seat and returning your gaze to the road ahead.
“This isn’t over,” Joel said, voice rough. And when he turned his head to look at you, just for a second, you nodded in acknowledgement. A dark glint of determination shone in his eyes, and it sent a shiver down your spine.
A long, tense day passed by before Joel could get you alone again. You felt the frustration rolling off of him in waves. Those dark eyes watched you, uncaring of whether you noticed or not, his hands twitching towards you whenever you were close, aching to touch you, to repent. Without a chance to shower, you spent the entire day with a sticky reminder of the night before. You were uncomfortably wet, your own slick mixed with Joel’s come making a mess of your underwear, streaking down your thighs inside your trousers.
It was late afternoon by the time he spotted a house in the distance, and when he pulled up outside of it, he ordered you and Ellie to stay in the car while he checked it out.
“I’m fucking exhausted,” she said from the backseat, as soon as Joel was out of earshot.
“Me too, kid,” you muttered, eyes on the front door until he reappeared, giving the all clear for you both to get out of the truck and go inside.
“There’s a few rooms,” he told you as you looked around the house, eyes drifting over the dusty furniture, bookshelves, dining table. “Two down here, one upstairs.”
“Shotgun upstairs,” Ellie said quickly, heading towards the staircase at the end of the hall.
“Are you hungry?” Joel called out to her back.
Ellie paused at the bottom of the stairs and gave him a look that said what do we even have to eat? But all she said was that she was gonna crash, and grumbled something about him never letting her get any sleep as she marched up the creaking steps.
“I think I’m gonna get some sleep as well,” you yawned, stretching your arm out against your chest. Joel’s eyes flashed to yours, and he huffed quietly.
“Is that right?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. You faltered, pulse quickening at the insinuation laced in his words.
“I—”
“First door on the right,” he motioned his head towards the hallway, and you followed him wordlessly towards the room.
It was small, cosy. Late afternoon light gleamed in through a north facing window, and the sun’s rays shone across a double bed in the middle of the room, and a bare side table. Silently, Joel stripped the sheets off the bed, leaving them in a pile on the floor before unzipping his sleeping bag and draping it across the mattress.
“You tired?”
You watched his hands as they spread the sleep bag out, flattening out any lumps in it. Thick, long fingers pressed against the material, and heat spread through your lower stomach.
“Yes,” you said honestly, and he nodded, tilting his head to look at you. You unzipped your jeans and discarded them on the floor before crawling onto the bed.
“How tired?” Joel queried, kicking his shoes off and joining you on the mattress. He rested back on his heels, hands splaying across your kneecaps as he gazed down at you.
You mmm’d from the back of your throat, wetting your lower lip. “Not too tired.”
The muscle in his jaw jumped as his eyes drifting across your body, down your bare thighs, to rest on the dark spot on the front of your panties. His fingers traced down your thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake, until he gripped the hem of your underwear.
He pulled them down your legs, tantalisingly slow, and you watched with wide eyes as he lifted the ruined material up to his face. Maintaining eye contact, he held them over his mouth and nose, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look away as he inhaled deeply. Heat soared across your cheeks, and you would have been ashamed, if it weren’t for the way you could see him beginning to bulge against the zipper of his jeans, hot and hard for you.
“I want you,” you whispered brokenly. Joel dropped your underwear onto the bed beside your body.
“I know,” he gritted his teeth, sliding his palms down your inner thighs and prying them apart so he could settle in between them.
One hand raised to cup your face and you smiled, nuzzling your cheek into his palm. His thumb grazed your bottom lip in a silent request, and you parted them for him instantly, welcoming the digit into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around it, wetting it, and watched intensely as he lowered his hand down your body, and pressed the finger between your folds.
“Christ,” he cursed, mouth falling ajar as he felt you. “You been like this all day?”
“Yes, yes,” you whimpered.
“Then I’m a fuckin’ monster,” he chuckled mirthlessly, staring between your legs with hooded eyes. “Left my best girl all worked up. God, darlin’, look at you; dripping wet for me, desperate for something to come on.”
“Please,” you exhaled sharply. “I need you, want your cock inside me so bad.”
He tutted quietly, shaking his head a little. “You think I deserve it?” his eyes flashed to yours, mouth downturned. “Think I deserve to be inside this pretty pussy, when I’ve been so mean to it?”
Your thighs tensed painfully as his finger started rubbing lightly against your bundle of nerves.
“Because I don’t,” he said ruefully. “Think I need to make it up to you first, what do you think, baby?”
“Okay,” you exhaled.
“And we aren’t finished unless you come,” he said darkly. “Do you understand?”
Your lips felt numb, tongue heavy in your mouth as you stared up at him through hooded eyes. Joel glared down at you, nostrils flared. “Say you understand.”
“I understand,” you finally mewled in frustration, twitching into the mattress as his thumb swiped over your pulsing clit. “F-fuck, Joel, please.”
His finger dragged between the swollen lips of your pussy, spreading you open so he could see your glistening core. He swore under his breath, the tip of his thumb gliding over your entrance where he could see remnants of his seed still easing out of you. His knees thudded against the old mattress as he dragged himself down the bed, and then his mouth was on you.
“Ohhh,” an exaggerated moan left your mouth, leaving your lips parted in an O shape as your head dropped back into the pillow. His tongue flattened to lick a stripe up your core, all the way from your entrance to above your clit and you shuddered into his mouth, crying out at the contact. His hands gripped your thighs and dragged them over his shoulders, pushing his face deeper into you.
Joel’s nose dragged across your clit as his tongue circled your entrance, and slurping noises filled the air as he cleaned the remnants of himself from your hole. You gasped, fire racing through your veins at the idea of him drinking down his own come, and your hips bucked off the bed. The tips of his fingers dug into your thighs in a silent warning to stay still. You clawed your nails into his scalp, raking through his messy hair, doing your best not to absolutely writhe against his face.
He groaned against you, pulling back momentarily to smirk up at you, your slick shining on his lips and beard. It was shameful, the way the noises he made went to your head. The deep, growling moans, the way his hums vibrated against you. You absorbed them and filed them away into your memory, somewhere only for you to ever see. Your hips framed his face, thighs bracketed over his shoulders as he gripped them, no doubt leaving bruises where his fingertips dug into your flesh.
Joel worked painstakingly slowly at first. His hot, long tongue glided along the entirety of you, and then he dipped it inside your weeping hole. Your eyes rolled back as he pumped his hot muscle in and out of you, until you were begging him to just please fuck me Joel please I’m sorry, but then he just sped up, moving upward to flick the tip of his tongue across your clit. You gasped, back arching off the bed as he swiped back and forth sharply, his lips suctioning around it as he abused your swollen clit.
And then one of his hands disappeared, and he eased a long, thick finger inside of you. He stroked along your walls, hooking his finger against your g-spot as you cried out his name, clenching around the digit. Encouraged by the response, he swiftly pushed a second finger inside, scissoring them and stretching you out as he sponged messy kisses against your clit.
Your mind was a blur. “Shit, Joel.”
Every single nerve, every point of feeling in your entire body, was directed to the apex of your thighs, and you trembled with the intensity of it. Every kiss, every lick, every suck was a reverent apology, a vow to never let it happen again. Joel was on his knees at the altar of his god, begging for forgiveness, and you were more than happy to grant it.
It felt like your chest was being ripped open as heavy breaths worked their way out of your burning lungs, heavy panting mixing in the air with the sounds of his tongue gliding through your wetness. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, and you moaned roughly as he let his teeth skate ever so slightly over your clit.
His fingers pumped inside you, curling against the roof of your channel in a continuous motion as his tongue rolled against your nerves. It sent a familiar fire spreading through your abdomen, warming your entire chest, until you were gasping for air, jaw aching as it hung open, in awe of every point of contact he had with your body.
You clenched painfully tight, pussy squeezing around his fingers as his tongue swiped back and forth across your clit. Joel hummed in encouragement, mouth buzzing against you in a way that sent you careening towards the edge even faster. It seemed like every muscle in your body was tightening. Arms tensed awkwardly, one hand buried in his hair, the other twisted in the sheets beside you. Thighs pressed against the side of his head, stomach burning as he built you up and up and up and—
“Oh, oh my—fucking god,” you sobbed as your orgasm hit, and Joel braced you against the bed, working you through it. Pleasure rushed through you like an avalanche. Stars burst behind your eyelids, and you let go of everything that had ever existed in your world except for Joel. You lost yourself in him; in the glide of his tongue against your core, in the way your fingers twisted in his hair, in the rough scrape of his beard against your inner thighs. He was everywhere, everything.
In time, you were vaguely aware of him pulling back, of only the drag of his fingers inside you remaining, and you knew he must have been watching you, raking in the sight of you so exposed.
“There you go,” you could hear him saying, somewhere past the ringing in your ears. “Give it t’me. That’s it, look so pretty like this, all fucked out just for me.”
And when he dragged his fingers out of you, it was only to make room for his head to drop down once more to suck and lick at where your orgasm dripped out of you, moaning as he went, desperate not to miss a single drop.
Finally, after the final waves of your climax had settled, and your limbs dropped heavily against the bed, he kissed his way up your body, wet mouth leaving a shimmering trail along your skin until he reached your face and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
He pulled back after a moment, and you breathed deeply, lost in the way the sunlight danced across the back of your eyelids. You weren’t aware of the corners of your mouth tilting upward, of your lips peeling back to reveal your teeth as you grinned brazenly, cool relief coursing through you.
“Look at that,” Joel’s voice brought you back down to earth, and you blinked heavily, trying to focus your bleary eyes on his face. His hair was messy, a dark rough halo around his head as the sunlight shone around him. One side of his mouth was pointed upward, a small smirk decorating his features. “There’s that smile.”
#joel miller#the last of us#tlou#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fanfic#joel miller smut#joel miller angst#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#joel miller one shot#my writing#fake it
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ARSONIST'S LULLABYE
kinktober day 011 | cheerleader!natasha x player!reader
"don't you ever tame your demons
but always keep them on a leash"
— arsonist’s lullabye, hozier
summary. natasha gets more attached than expected after a one-night-stand with the college's infamous player, both on the field and with the ladies. however, she's always been good at getting what she wants.
rating 18+ | word count 7438 (shittt)
note. natasha is 18 and y/n is 19, y/n is described to be masc-representing (eg. cropped hair, compression tee + grey sweats, tattoos, piercings)
note ii. please please please please take your time to read it, you don't understand how long i've spent pondering over every intricacy in this fic.
note iii. drinking game: take a shot every time i say 'don't fall for the player'
kinktober masterlist || main masterlist
Don’t fall for the player.
This was a warning, circulating within the hallways of Avengers Institution, whispered under hushed breaths and divine lips.
Students in this renowned college came from all walks of life — from children of billionaires to self-made achievers, from prodigal minds to brilliant brains. One thing stood for certain, though, and that was the infamous Y/N L/N.
It was a rumour, tried and true, that every single girl — regardless of their sexuality, physical appearance, or social status — would all eventually fall under the spell of the school’s “player”. Try as they might, victim after victim fell helplessly for an effortless charisma and unstoppable magnetism.
The chase never lasted long, a one-sided apex predator hunt. Once you had your eyes set on someone, there was simply no escaping the undeniable fact that the following morning, that girl would wake up in bed next to you.
Problem was, you had this rule, written in stone: Never sleep with a girl more than once.
Alas came the cruel and vicious cycle of girls falling under your spell within milliseconds, only to have their heart shattered within the next twenty-four hours. Sometimes even less.
Boys looked on in jealousy, girls looked on in intrigue. (Or maybe jealousy, too.) The wiser ones kept a distance, but either way, one fact stood true, the moment one stepped into Avengers Institution.
Don’t fall for the player.
Little did you know, soon would arrive a thorn in your plans, an unwanted distraction, your ultimate downfall.
All due to an equally irresistible girl by the name of Natasha Romanoff.
***
“You’re fuckin’ impressive for a freshman, Natasha,” Pepper whistles, clapping her on the back. “Consider yourself a member of the Avengers Institution’s cheerleading squad.”
Natasha nods breathlessly, dropping the pom-poms onto the ground. She had just completed a complicated routine for the cheerleading tryouts, a rigorous one with flips and twirls that required pristine balance.
“I guess that’s expected from a girl who was with the Red Room,” Sharon adds, somewhat snidely. She was another freshman trying out for the cheerleading squad, with a snake-like smile that was coated with too much venom to convey any sort of genuineness.
Natasha returns the smile blankly, false emotions overtaking her face like second nature — propriety, expectations, rectitude. She knew what those words meant, when they put emphasis on the Red Room.
The Red Room, in question, was one of the highest-class organisations internationally that trained talented young female cheerleaders. With a near overly-daunting curriculum, payment fees so impossibly high, and only the most renowned instructors, the Red Room was essentially associated with filthy rich wealth and spoiled privileged kids.
And such comes the tragedy of warped views on capitalism and the unfairness of the world. Sharon leans next to Natasha’s ear in the false pretence of picking something up, but her lips move dangerously swiftly and whisper, “Daddy’s money lets you get everything you want, hm?”
It only takes a second, and then the faux-innocent perpetrator briskly moves away as if nothing had occurred. Natasha stands still, the gripe washing over her back like a cold shower. She steels her shoulders, refusing to be provoked. It wasn’t her fault she’d been born with a silver-studded spoon in her mouth.
Shrugging off the strange looks some of the other girls give her, Natasha hides her annoyance by fiddling with her short skirt. Alongside college came the novelty of less-strict clothing etiquette, and that resulted in the most miniscule cheerleading skirts Natasha had ever worn in her life.
“Ready on the count of three,” Carol announces, tapping her clipboard with a ballpoint pen, surveying the expanse of the wide field.
It wasn’t Natasha’s fault she simply got everything she wanted.
“One.”
An invisible force of magnetism pulls Natasha’s gaze to the bleachers above the field, unyielding and unstoppable. There stands a tall and dark figure in a relaxed position, looking directly at her with piercing eyes. A shiver of anticipation sweeps through the air, and Natasha feels goosebumps rise on her skin.
“Two.”
Aloof charisma exudes from the person’s very presence, so compelling and captivating that it takes Natasha a moment to realise that there’s another girl standing next to the enigmatic soul. She’s chatting animatedly, under a false belief that she’s got your attention, but Natasha knows better.
Her eyes travel over the person’s sculpted figure clad in a leather jacket, tacit confidence written in your lazy smirk and composed posture. Electricity erupts in Natasha’s bloodstream, sending shockwaves coursing through her mindwires, forcing her to look back up to your alluring, forsaken eyes.
“Three.”
Natasha’s body moves mechanically, practised and poised. The rhythm thrumming from the portable speaker seeps into her practised muscles without her brain actually registering it, still reeling from the sheer impact of you.
If there was a fracture in her composure, if her routine was ever-so-slightly off, if her legs trembled more than it normally would’ve, Natasha would blame you.
Natasha would blame you and your stupid smirk, your silly leather jacket, your sickeningly magnetic allure. How you made her feel unstoppable with that come-hither gaze, then left her so low when your eyes inevitably left her.
And suddenly, like a golden key slotting into place, the words Natasha had heard whispered in the hallways finally made sense. The coveted prayer that could only be spoken under hushed tones and divine lips.
Don’t fall for the player.
When Natasha finishes the series of tumbles that ignites impressed cheers from the senior cheerleaders, she lifts her lowered eyes back to the bleachers.
Only to find your lips locked with the blonde girl from before, your hands creeping dangerously low on her back. You move like a predator python, the silver piercings in your ears glinting in the light with every of your calculated moves.
A burning feeling courses through Natasha’s veins, like an ugly green monster unfurling gradually, indescribable anger making her jaw tick.
Don’t fall for the player? Well, now that just sounded like a challenge.
***
Natasha makes her way through the crowd of students filing out from the lecture hall. The chatter fades to a background buzz in her ears as she beelines towards a group of more bearable folks.
“No, they’re a sophomore,” Wanda explained, leaning against the locker door.
“Who’re we talking about?” Natasha intercepts with a curious gaze, slinging an arm around Clint lackadaisically. Professor Banner’s lectures were highly educational, but he tended to drone on a little, and she could feel the rising boredom making its slow crescendo into the back of her mind.
Clint raises his eyebrows amusedly, then lowers his voice in humorous dramatisation. “The player.”
Natasha’s face flashes in recognition at your title. Several things flit across her mind in rapid succession — a fetching character, a lofty smirk, and a pretty girl hanging off a forearm.
“So, this uh… What’s her name?” Natasha tries to ask subtly, faking an expression of indifference. Clint, as always, side-eyes her with a playfully accusatory glance. Natasha shrugs with an odd feeling of guilt.
“Well, I’m a sophomore too, so I do have the guilty pleasure of knowing Y/N L/N,” Wanda said with a bit of a grin.
“Knows her in more ways than one!” Sam cackles, ducking as Wanda swipes at him.
Natasha feels that burning feeling rising in her chest again, and perhaps it was due to the knowledge that someone else had experienced being in bed with you — which was arguably silly, because of course you slept with plenty of women, but that didn’t quell her growing unease.
“Was the sex really that good?” Clint asks bluntly, folding his arms as he leans against the locker next to Darcy. Natasha chokes on air.
Wanda only raises an eyebrow, as if to question the poor boy of his doubts of your sexual prowess. Her knowing smirk told a thousand tales, of your sentient being seemingly reincarnated from a Goddess of Sex, of your mighty skillset of lust, the ultimate sapphic enigma.
“You tryna pull a lesbian, birdboy?” Natasha asks dryly, nudging Clint in the rib. The jibe doesn’t even give her that satisfaction. Thinking about you again had unnerved her very skin, causing clammy hands and a dry mouth.
“She leaves all the girls the morning after, though, so don’t get your hopes up,” Wanda sighs wistfully, waving her hand in the air as if she prophesied of a legend. “It’s a one-night-wonder. Kind of like an eclipse. Only happens once, but when it does, it’s really astronomical.”
Natasha flexes her fingers to get her blood flowing. All this talk about your specialised skillset in bed was making her heart flutter, in the best way possible, but maybe that per se was the worst thing possible.
Because she might acknowledge that you were attractive, but that didn’t necessarily mean she wanted to sleep with you, right?
“And that’s why it's a common tongue around here,” Wanda concludes. “Don’t fall for the player. Simple as that.”
On cue, the noise in the hallway comically fades to silence. The gathered crowds of students make way for a quickly striding figure, clad in the same dark clothing Natasha thought about day and night.
Crossing the hallway with an easy purpose and confident composure, you walk past girls who could be seen swooning. Your gaze slides over them casually, sending small smiles here and there but never really quite focusing.
Until your eyes meet Natasha’s, of course. Like a love scene straight out of a drama, your composure cracks fractionally, and your loose confidence is subverted. It only takes a second before your persona snaps back into place.
“Hey, Natasha,” A smooth voice spills out from your angel-crafted lips. Your voice runs over her weak-willed skin, suddenly so vulnerable in your presence, and then you’re gone.
Natasha stills in place, staring after your disappearing figure. Your two words had left such a searing imprint into the front of her mind that it was honestly concerning. The chatter rises again, as if you were never there.
“Looks like you’re Y/N’s next conquest,” Wanda comments, mildly impressed. “Good luck, my friend. Just remember, don’t fall for the player.”
***
Why on earth there was a dorm party on the second day of school was a question that would forever remain unanswered.
Perhaps the adolescent spirit was the root cause of it, free and tameless and reckless, or maybe it was the temptation of alcohol and attractive folks, intoxicating and thrilling.
Either way, Natasha was here for a good time, not a long time.
Her short midnight dress flounces as she makes her way over to the partially occupied couch, the rather risky slit making its way up her thigh to reveal awfully beddable skin.
“Hey, babe!” Wanda calls enthusiastically, waving her over. There’s a Matrix movie playing on the screen, Natasha isn’t clear of which one, and there are students sprawled over the couch, the floor, and on each other.
She ends up playing a game of truth or dare with strangers, driven by warm bodies and the repetitive encouragement to indulge in a little bit of ‘fun’.
“Truth!” Darcy yells drunkenly, almost crushing her red solo cup of cheap alcohol.
“Jeez, woman,” Carol mutters, sighing at the tipsy girl’s antics. “So, truth— ever had a threesome?”
A bunch of ‘ooh’s wave like a ripple through the huddle of students, but Darcy answers with surprisingly quick coherence for a woman on her sixth cup of beer. “Hell yeah,” she drawls. “Y/N and Jane. Best night of my fuckin’ life.”
Natasha feels that wildly uncomfortable feeling of butterflies fluttering — no, thrashing, around in her stomach. It’s absolutely ridiculous that she’s so easily unsettled by you.
Said Jane Foster flushes in her seat, clearly embarrassed at having her sex life exposed. She waves a hand, trying to quiet down the growing hoots and whistles. “I mean, is it really that surprising, guys? I’m definitely not the only one! Okay, jerks, who else has laid with the famed Y/N L/N?”
Immediately, all eleven women in the dorm room have their hands raised. Well, all except Natasha, that is.
“Oh, she’s a free woman!” Valkyrie yells out, pumping her fist, and the crowd of women let out victorious cheers. “Our last standing soldier!”
Natasha smiles awkwardly in the limelight of all these older students, the strangling sensation in her gut growing stronger.
Seriously? ‘The Player’ has already slept with all these pretty girls in her second year? I would never sleep with someone who treats sex so meaninglessly…
Natasha refocuses on the game, dispelling all her thoughts that seemed to constantly circulate around you. In the bleachers, in the hallway, and now in a dorm party…
So why is Y/N L/N a muse in my mind? Why is she so inescapable?
After about six rounds of revealing shameful truths and accepting rather pointless dares, Natasha’s ready to ditch the scene altogether.
She’s barely touched any alcohol, but it was honestly a shame that her imagination was still so lucid. Getting some of that cheap beer into her system would probably help her to relax quicker, and to stop thinking about you.
“Hey, uh,” she whispers to Wanda. The older girl pulls her gaze away from the current life of the party to regard Natasha with a drunken smile.
“What’s up, Nat?” Wanda drawls, sprawling forward a little too close for comfort. Natasha cringes at her beer-tinted breath. Wanda murmurs softly, “Hey, you got a lil somethin’ in your eye. Looks like a little cloud… Oh, that’s just the light. Silly me, silly–”
“Wanda, I’m gonna head back now. Don’t worry about me,” Natasha says, slightly impatiently but affectionate nonetheless, patting Wanda’s head.
“Awh, okay,” Wanda responds drunkenly, breaking off into a little giggle as Natasha gets up. “Hey, Nat?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t fall for the player, yeah?” Wanda asks with an innocent smile, but her eyes are reminiscent of a ghost doing its last haunting. Then Wanda’s gone, gone with the wind, her attention lost to the exhilarating game of truth and dare.
There’s a moment of quiet in Natasha’s mind, save for the explicit Nicki Minaj song playing in the background with lyrics that would make a stripper blush.
She had heard that simple statement all too many times. Almost like she was meant to hear it. Like it was a premonition, a foreshadowing.
With the odd feeling of being defenceless, Natasha makes a beeline for the door. She’s had enough of silly conservations and awful thoughts; conversations that encircled around the subject of The Player, and awful thoughts of hers that always ended up being about you.
However, a shining bottle of cheap alcohol catches Natasha’s attention from the makeshift bartending station, essentially a kitchen counter. “Wouldn’t hurt, I guess,” she mutters under her breath, reaching out to grab a bottle for herself.
“Ah, that beer’s shite. The good one’s in the cupboard.”
Embarrassingly startled by the familiar smooth voice that greets her, Natasha jumps in her own skin. You again, she thinks with such indignation. What kind of sheer audacity did you have to approach her, after you were making out with another girl just the other day–
All coherent thoughts left Natasha’s mind when her eyes rake over your short-sleeve compression shirt that clung to your abdomen and arms like a vacuum-sealed package. Paired with grey sweats, it was such a beguiling mixture of taut muscles and casual wear that had Natasha growing hotter under her skin.
“I guess it’s alright for me to assume I’ve chosen the right attire for today,” you say, folding your arms in a little bit of satisfaction. That has Natasha staring at the black tattoos that decorate your thick forearms, and she’s half-crazed by the alluring sight.
Perhaps you’re showing off a little more than you normally would, but the girl standing before you was one that had invaded your mind for days on end, which was entirely uncharacteristic of your constantly horny brain.
“Can I ask you a question?” Natasha asks snarkily, returning your confidence with her very own crossed arms. Your eyes don’t miss the way her awfully kissable lips form the words on her tongue, and you certainly don’t miss the way her crossed arms push up her cleavage.
You lick your lips imperceptibly, and you notice the way Natasha’s eyes follow the movement with a hawk-like gaze. “Go ahead, sweetheart,” you respond easily, taking a single step closer to the object of your desires.
Natasha scoffs at the pet name, but you can see your close proximity subverts her composure in the slightest. Unable to keep your hands to yourself, you reach out to place your hands on her altar-like hips. She bristles under your touch, but she doesn’t move.
“Why’re you so fucking arrogant?” Natasha finally asks, hating how breathless she sounds, struggling to keep cool as your ring-adorned hands thumb the material of her short dress. You’ve got her entrapped between the kitchen counter and your sinfully sculpted body, with no way of escape. (Not like Natasha was looking for one.)
“Brat.” The dry laugh that sounds from your throat has Natasha’s heart pounding, a choked sound of pleasure caught in the back of her throat. Your big hands have moved to her sides, cradling her waist tenderly but withholding power, as if you’re ready to dig your fingertips into her soft skin at any given moment.
She thinks it’s unfair, the way your eyes are damn near psychedelic. They’re screens of mercury, smouldering and smoking with the way it trails over her body. If you’re a spark of fire, Natasha is a pool of gasoline that feeds your will.
Hot lips slant against Natasha’s ear lobe, taking it between your teeth as she shudders. Natasha’s breathy release of air as she fights to keep silent has you tugging on her earlobe with pure want.
“Can I ask you a question?” you ask, your voice a touch lower than it had been before, your hands tightening its grip on her deadly hips, the metal of your rings cool against her hot skin.
The overwhelming sensation of your big hands, hot lips and sharp teeth is enough to have Natasha’s eyes fluttering shut. She almost loses control of herself, almost lets herself fall victim to your hypnotic touch — But then you pull away, and a desperate little whine nearly falls from Natasha’s lips.
The cheerleader swallows as she stares at your crafted face, your eyes darkened with something far deeper than want, your lips tugged upwards into a devilish smirk.
“My room or yours?”
Natasha would like to say that the rest was a blur, and her alcohol-tainted memories got lost in translation — but it was a shameful and unequivocal statement that she had been entirely sober, and yet recalled every single detail of that night to vivid precision.
***
Natasha remembers you pressing her up against your door, a fervent urgency of lust unlocked within the confines of your dorm.
“So fucking desperate,” you grunt, hips knocking into Natasha’s front as you pin her against the door, lithe legs wrapped around your muscled torso.
“Shut the fuck up,” she spits, throwing her head back as your sharp teeth sink into the softness of her porcelain neck. The edge of your canines are hard and unforgiving, just how Natasha likes it, just how you scatter dark hickeys across her pale skin.
You smirk at her brattiness, finding it an exceptionally arousing trait of hers. “Pretty girl, you’re not the one in charge,” you tease, with your words and with your hands, dragging your fingertips up and under her short dress.
Natasha remembers her fingers twisting into your hair as you play her like a fiddle, teasing and edging and so blatantly talented like a prodigal concertmaster.
She whines as the cool metal of your rings nudges her nipples, her sensitivity skyrocketing with the shock. “More,” she tries to demand, but it ends up sounding like a helpless whimper and your hands move with such purpose.
You don’t help her cause by taking a hardened bud between two fingers and tugging, cries and whimpers following your fingers. Heaven is the way her breasts look all marked up by your mouth, hardened nipples and raw skin dancing in your vision.
Natasha’s nails dig into your hardened abdomen, scraping at your every muscle for all it was worth. It was something about you, something about the look in your eye, something about the way you commandeered her body with such precision and control like it was meant to be.
Natasha remembers her complete relinquishment of power, giving herself up for you, with a sick urge to be fucked within an inch of her life and then some.
Your right hand slides across her damp inner thigh to brush at her demesnes, and the sheer wetness that awaits your fingers makes you growl against her skin. “So fucking wet,” you grunt, peeling apart the thin material of her panties that cling to her sodden pussy with strings of slick.
Natasha wails, face completely flushed and so utterly gorgeous, and you can’t help but meet her lips with clashing tongue and teeth. She moans as your pierced tongue explores her mouth, and you drink up her cries of pleasure.
“Wanna fuck you silly,” you pant against her ear, fingers tracing the outline of her pretty pussy, dragging arousal along with it. Your knee keeps her legs spread nicely apart for the taking, and the vulnerability you bring out of Natasha is perhaps also the hottest thing.
Humiliation is the way Natasha agrees so quickly, nodding dumbly in acquiescence, thinking it would be nice to feel her brain melt to mush with your thick fingers and prodding tongue.
Natasha remembers the earth-shattering pleasure that wracks her body, as you divulge in providing, by leaps and bounds, the best sex she’s ever had.
Three fingers slide in and out of her dripping cunt at a phenomenal pace, and Natasha’s panting like a dog, tight velvet walls clenching around the thickness of your fingers for all it’s worth.
Finger-fucking her against the door like a heaven-descent, you bask in Natasha’s cries of pleasure. It’s never been like this, never been this heated. With Natasha, you felt like you were ascending.
“You’re gonna make a mess on the fucking floor,” you bite, a low gasp caught in the back of your throat. Natasha’s head lolls to the side, high-pitched whimpers making themselves known as she drips down your wrist and her thighs.
Natasha remembers the unravelling, the way her body seizes up out of its own accord, electricity erupting behind her half-lidded eyes.
Your hands dig into the plush of her thighs as you bring Natasha to a stupendous climax. Your fingers curl harshly, hitting her sweet spot and drawing out obscene noises from her.
“Fuck–” Natasha chokes out, high-pitched and breathy and absolutely delightful. Her hips jerk in your hands as your fingers move inside her.
“Another,” you grunt, not a request, and before Natasha can get ahold of her senses your fingers are thrusting again. She wails as your wrist jackhammers into her wet cunt, slick sounds echoing around the four walls of your room.
The second orgasm arrives even more harshly than the first, and Natasha clings onto the broad muscles of your back as you pin her against the door, toes curling and eyes squeezing shut.
She thinks she could find solace in the way your arms entrap her in a certain type of warmth, almost as if you don’t want to let her go.
But that would just be a hopeless fantasy, wouldn’t it?
Natasha remembers waking up the next morning to an empty bed.
The morning air is too cold on her bare skin. Your side of the bed isn’t even warm anymore. You must’ve left ages ago, in the dark of the night, and that thought in itself has Natasha choking on emotions she’d rather not feel.
Her clothes are still strewn on the floor and the furniture is a mess, a mockery of how far she’d let you go last night, driven by an inescapable high.
This is the game you play. Toying with girls' hearts like it was child’s play, making them feel like they were one in a million for one night only. All that alluring charisma was ugly and falsified, viewed through rose-tinted glasses.
This is the game you play, and Natasha Romanoff had fallen victim to it.
Don’t fall for the player.
Now, it was just another warning sign that she’d overlooked, and she was just like those other girls, stumbling into your open arms and cocky smirk.
Vehement fury slugs inside the cheerleader, as she forcefully picks up her strewn clothes.
Then she looks around the dorm room, your room, and time stills for a moment.
She’d expected it to be somewhat furnished, like all other dorm rooms were, maybe a cactus in the corner or a poster of a rockstar. Instead, your walls are blank and there isn’t a trophy or an award in sight.
You’re the captain of the football team, above average in academics, yet there isn’t a trace of the mark you’ve left as a student at Avengers Institution. There isn’t a trace that you’re a living, breathing human, with emotions that craft your very humanity.
Scarily enough, she feels like she’s laid in the bed of a complete stranger.
And suddenly, Natasha understands.
Don’t fall for the player.
Suddenly, everything feels a little too real, and Natasha comprehends that the statement holds far more depth than what your reputation suggested.
You were just fucking scared.
Scared of commitment, scared of growing attached, scared of being abandoned. You feared getting your heart broken, and thus you feared the longevity of relationships that involved love and romance.
As Natasha picks up her strewn clothes from the floor, with aching limbs and dishevelled hair, only one statement rings in her mind.
Don’t fall for the player.
“Maybe I will,” Natasha whispers to the ghost of your handsome, misunderstood self in the room. “But haven’t you heard I always get what I want?”
***
You couldn’t fall asleep.
You watch the empty sky as you sit on the empty rooftop of the school at four in the morning, a cigarette hanging limp between your lips. There’s an underlying anger bubbling beneath your skin, an itch that you can’t find, simply stewing there to your frustration.
Romance was bullshit.
It was plainly obvious from the way girls approached you. Flirty eyes and feather-light touches meant only one thing. And they were all so pretty, so who were you to complain, right?
All those girls always ended up in your dorm bed, sweaty and short of breath. Your heart would pound, and your mind would go wild with endless possibilities of what could happen if they just stayed.
“You can stay if you want,” you muttered off-handedly to one of your first few hookups in college. The look that the girl returned was so unimpressed that you never asked that question again.
But it was okay, because sex was something that you were good at, and those girls had their fun. It was okay, even if there was something missing. It was okay that your reputation preceded your identity. Even if those expectations spiralled far beyond your control.
With every passing girl you brought to bed, the gnawing hole in your chest only grew bigger. You craved something that you couldn’t obtain. Even if your heart was crawling out of its ribcage every time a girl breathed your name, every time she laid a hand on your chest.
Last night, Natasha Romanoff took that gaping hole in your chest and ripped it right open.
“Please, Y/N,” Natasha had whined, and there was reverent devotion in the way you held her hips, in the way you pulled her close.
“Stay,” you had wanted to whisper, so badly, so many times, but her hands were streaking red marks down your back and her body was shuddering under yours.
So you kept your forbidden mouth shut and continued to do what you did best. All the ‘what-ifs’ were just hopeless dreams. You couldn’t stay, you couldn’t commit. You weren’t allowed to, not after the expectations that had been set for you.
Romance was bullshit, after all.
“You seem troubled,” a female voice announces from behind you, but you don’t bother to turn back. Taking your silence as consent, the girl sits next to you.
“Give me a light,” the girl says, leaning closer to you, and only then do you turn to look her over. Blonde girl, 5’8, blue eyes. Freshman.
“Sharon Carter, right?” you ask indifferently, and the girl lets out a bemused huff as she makes her comfortable next to you.
“Wow, so you do know every girl in this school,” Sharon comments, and there’s a teasing lilt in her voice that hints at how this is going to end up.
You pull out a cigarette, passing it over to the blonde girl, noting how her fingertips brush over yours for a second too long. “Maybe I do,” you respond with false cockiness, the smirk overtaking your face almost unconsciously.
This is the right thing to do, you convince yourself, as Sharon’s hand creeps to your thigh. One girl after the other. You couldn’t get attached.
“Impressive. Put away your light. It’s healthier to destress in another way,” Sharon whispers, tossing her cigarette to the rough concrete.
What a waste, you think, but then the same could be said about a lot of other things in your life.
For a fraction of a second, you contemplate your existence. You wonder why you’ve ended up this way. What you’ve done to deserve girls throwing themselves at you when you began to despise all of them.
When Sharon brings her lips closer to yours, and you find yourself meeting her halfway, because you’ve done it so many times.
There’s this tugging of your heart that almost feels like guilt, but you shove it down and drag your tongue between a set of lips. All too easily, your hands draw patterns across her chest and her thighs, a mastered craft that came mechanically.
Even if it is the right thing to do, it doesn’t feel right.
Your head is swimming with unbearable thoughts of Natasha Romanoff, and you try to erase her on the tongue of another girl who could never compare.
It doesn’t feel right, but it’s the easy way out, and it’s what’s expected of you.
Always has been.
***
“Fuck, Y/N—” is the first thing Natasha hears when she meanders into the bathroom the morning after.
She had wanted to get an early start on the new morning, but alas, fate had it out for her.
For a while, Natasha is surprised that she isn’t surprised. You’ve got a pretty blonde girl on the bathroom counter, one hand up her skirt and the other twisted in her hair.
The girl throws her head back in a bout of pleasure, and Natasha’s thinking that maybe she looks a little familiar. It’s her cheekbones, strung high like a haughty prick. “Daddy’s money always gets what you want, hm?” rings in her head.
A spark of fire burns any ounce of indifference Natasha has to ashes. Sharon Fucking Carter.
Sharon’s painted nails were digging into the expanse of your shoulder blades, and it looked downright painful. Your dexterous fingers were plunging into her sodden cunt, rendering her barely coherent.
It all looks so wrong, and Natasha wants to crawl out of her skin before the jealousy eats her alive.
“Fucking hypocrite, aren’t you?” Natasha spits venomously, hands clenched into fists of fury, making her presence known.
When Sharon jumps away from you like she’s been burned, Natasha can’t help but let evil glee surge through her stomach. Serves you right, she thinks, staring at your dishevelled hair that somehow only made you look more handsome.
It’s different, this time, with your eyes darting as if you were unsure of yourself. (Astonishing, considering your mean streak of being cold as ice.) There’s resentment in the way your face sets, and a type of hurt that causes Natasha to falter.
“Daddy’s little bitch,” Sharon scoffs, fixing her skirt with no attempt to hide her disdain. “Why don’t you fuck off, huh?”
Natasha scoffs, eyes widening in fractional aggression. “I-”
“You should go, Carter,” you say monotonously, almost defeated but wavering on the edge of frustration.
The blonde girl whips her head around to stare at you with incredulousness written in her wide eyes. She lets out a dry laugh of betrayal. “Fuck, look at the two of you. Match made in hell.”
The bathroom door slams shut with a piercing thud. Both you and Natasha don’t flinch.
“You didn’t have to call Sharon a hypocrite,” you mumble, flicking your head back to look in the mirror.
There’s something off about you that no one else has ever had the privilege of seeing. It makes Natasha’s heart soar and her blood boil simultaneously.
“She wasn’t the one I was calling a hypocrite.”
A moment passes between the two of you where you flick an invisible switch.
“I’m the hypocrite, Romanoff?” you ask, evidently provoked. A crazed look in your eyes draws Natasha’s attention, because you’re putting on a false facade all over again.
“Am I the hypocrite for fucking another girl? It’s all I do, isn’t it? That’s what I’m known for. You don’t get to be so butthurt because you were just a one-night.”
A sickly sourness lines your mouth as you spew words that aren’t true, because your heart was fighting every battle to get to Natasha Romanoff.
“What you’re failing to realise,” Natasha begins stately. “Is that this isn’t about me. Fuck it if I’m just another girl on your ever-growing fuck list. Because maybe I am. But you’re lying to yourself if you think you’re happy.”
“Oh, so now you’re determining my emotions for me,” you retort with as much snark as you can muster. “You weren’t acting this high and mighty last night in my bed.”
“Quit the act,” Natasha scoffs, then letting a bittersweet smile cross her face. “You’re hiding behind weak retorts because you’re scared. Scared of being alone. But you don’t have to be anymore.”
Lost, your hands twitch, and you allow yourself to believe that maybe Natasha is your salvation. Defense mechanisms kick in, but you know you’re fighting a losing battle.
“Sorry to disappoint, Romanoff, but don’t try to play therapist. I’m not some kind of victim you’re going to diagnose,” you sneer. “I’m free to do whatever the fuck I want without your judgment.”
“Free?” Natasha asks, an incredulous look in her eyes. She laughs in mockery with an unwavering gaze. “You’re not free. You can’t go a day without fucking a girl. You’re a prisoner, and you’re shackled by your own desires and wants. Except this time, that luxury has become an addictive coping mechanism.”
Dark eyes flash with a glimmer of danger, and you’re so much like a trapped animal gone hostile that Natasha’s heart breaks a little.
“You’re wrong,” you answer, but your hands are shaking so violently that you hardly seem like the person she once thought you were.
Where complete equilibrium once was, a desperate frenzy of unease is what exudes from you now. Natasha feels a twinge in her heart when you whisper “You’re wrong,” again, this time substantially more quiet and resigned.
“Prove it, then,” Natasha challenges, bringing a hand up to cup the side of your face. Her eyes search yours so desperately, and you’ve stripped naked in front of a hundred girls, but you’ve never felt more vulnerable. “Prove that you’re more than whatever they say about you.”
With the strange urge of tears pricking at your eyes, you stare at Natasha with all the hopelessness any broken heart could muster, and for a moment you can see the doubt in her eyes. Like you’ve disappointed her, just like all the girls who’s hearts you’ve broken.
But when you first kissed Natasha Romanoff, it was never going to be just another one-night, was it?
With the final semblance of humanity in your burden-stricken mortality, you drag a shaky thumb along Natasha’s cheekbones like it’s the most delicate thing in the world, and the deeply-rooted self-loathing inside you fades away, just a little bit.
Your parted lips meet Natasha’s in a prologue to an unfinished symphony. You delve in like she’s your last lifeline, and maybe Natasha is, from the way she rests her fingers on your hips with a gentleness you’ve never experienced.
A carnal urge washes over you, because this time you’re not afraid to admit that you want Natasha Romanoff. You spread your hands, feeling up as much of her as you can, running it down her back then squeezing at her rounded ass—
And then Natasha’s pulling away, and only then do you hear the cluster of footsteps approaching the washroom.
“Tonight,” she whispers with a hint of smirk. Natasha goes on her tippy-toes to press a kiss on the tip of your nose, and then she’s gone.
You stand there with wide eyes, in the washroom where students filter in, lingering with the ghost of Natasha Romanoff’s lips and a piece of your heart melted onto the floor.
***
You were positive you were going to start ripping off your skin if you didn’t start fucking Natasha Romanoff in this exact moment.
But that would be a bad idea, because you were in the middle of a psychology lecture, and Professor Harkness probably wouldn’t appreciate that.
After a torturous hour of you shifting in your seat, you sprint out the lecture hall. Thanking the heavens that it was your last lesson of the day, you dodge and weave through the crowd of students in the hallway.
“Hey, Y/N,” A small group of sophomore girls call out, checking you out like a piece of meat. Normally, their flirtatious winks and little skirts would have you folded in an instant, but you couldn’t wait a moment longer.
You send them a polite smile and continue on your hasteful journey, missing the comical way their faces fall.
Upon your dutiful research, you knew where Natasha’s dorm was located, but you planned to stop by your own dorm to pick up a little something. (Okay, maybe the something wasn’t that little.) You yank open your door with purpose—
Only to find Natasha already sprawled out on your dorm bed, dressed in one of your shirts and nothing else. You almost pass out. Almost.
“Nat,” you groan, locking the door behind you. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“Not before I come, I’m afraid,” Natasha sighs with a pleased smile. She beckons you over with a come-hither motion, spreading her legs in invitation.
You bite back an affected noise in the back of your throat, pushing Natasha back down on to the bed with fervour. With a crushing sense of urgency, you slide your hand between her pretty thighs, not waiting a single moment.
“Slow down,” Natasha instructs, tilting your head up to stare at her blown pupils. “Take your time. Don’t just fuck me. Do it like you mean it.”
Upon hearing those words, a rush of pride washes over you and then you’re so eager to please, desperate to somehow prove yourself.
Your fingers find the hem of her shirt and tug it over her head, revealing the bare mounds that are Natasha’s tits. A shaky exhale leaves your lips as your fingertips experimentally brush over her hardened buds.
“God, you’re built,” Natasha moans, running her hands over the edges and curves of your muscle. It’s tight and taut under her touch, so defined and carved.
You shudder under her explorative touch, returning your attention back to the beautiful girl in front of you.
You were so used to hot, fast, explosive sex that turning back time was such a jarring awakening of everything that you were missing out on.
It put things into perspective, that you had never actually made love. And since this was your first time, you were determined to do it right, especially for Natasha.
You trail open-mouthed kisses down her sternum and stomach, savouring the taste of her skin. Your hands grasp at her tits, enjoying the feel of it in your hands.
You’re experiencing things you never got to experience, like the rise and fall of Natasha’s pale chest, the way her eyelids flutter gently.
Temporarily avoiding where she needed you most, you hear Natasha let out a whine. You tease her hole with your tongue, smearing her slick messily.
“Fuck,” Natasha curses, winding her fingers into your hair. “Please, I need it,” she whines, as you lick at her clit.
“M’kay, baby,” you mumble against her wet folds, because you could never deny Natasha of anything, could you?
You slide your tongue in her twitching pussy, and begin one of the most passionate love-making sessions
You listen out for when Natasha hitches her breath, when her hips stutter, when she mewls out. You learn the instrument of her body, understand and test out the different reactions you can draw out.
After minutes of what seem like pure bliss with erratic breaths and pleading keening, you speed up and the reaction is immaculate.
“Y/N,” Natasha cries, as your tongue goes in and out of her dripping cunt. Her slick goes down her thighs and your chin, making the most obscene noises.
It’s wet and squelching, and you proceed to devour Natasha’s pussy for everything it’s worth.
For a millisecond, Natasha wonders if anyone has ever died from being eaten out too passionately. Erotic Oral Overdrive, maybe.
Her first orgasm comes in a gradual crescendo, her hips rocking in waves as you dutifully match her unwinding.
Natasha lets her eyes flutter shut as the moment overwhelms her senses. Until the silence is finally broken by you.
“Got a little something for you,” you say with a quirked brow, sliding your hand into the bedside cabinet to retrieve that little something.
“Oh, fuck,” Natasha whines, upon seeing the biggest strap-on toy she’s ever had her eyes upon in her life.
You ease in the cock with no amount of trouble, through Natasha’s already slick cunt. You start with a gentle pace, because you’re trying to be slow.
Apparently, Natasha has different plans this time around.
“Harder,” Natasha growls, digging her nails into your muscled back. You let out a low gasp, because you’re already so deep inside her divine pussy, and you didn’t think you could go any deeper.
Gripping her thighs and spreading it as far apart as you can, you thrust impossibly deeper and your hips slap against Natasha’s.
Her eyes roll back, and she arches off the bed as you continue to thrust and make a nest for yourself inside her.
“Y/N, ungh– please, fuck—” Curled toes wrap around your back as she writhes against the bed.
With the way your cock bulges against her skin, you’re quite sure you could actually split Natasha in half. She’s clawing at your back, calling out your name to the ceiling.
When you pull out, Natasha whines, velvet walls clenching tighter around to keep you deep inside. But then you thrust all the way in again and a scream rings around your dorm room.
You don’t give a flying fuck about the noise level as you pound into Natasha, splitting open her pretty little pussy. “So fucking tight and wet,” you moan into her ear. “All for me, baby?”
It’s fucking possesive, the way you manhandle her to look at her rolled-back eyes and slack jaw.
“Mhm– yes! Oh God, yes, please, Y/N!” Natasha shrieks, clenching so tight you swear you can feel her wet pulse through the huge strap-on.
But it isn’t just any strap-on, and Natasha realises this with a breathy gasp, because it’s a squirting strap-on, and then you’re unloading into her ruined cunt with a deep growl.
Natasha wails, legs in the air, as you pump your seed into her pussy. It’s thick and flows out in pumps, and she milks your cock dry.
“Good girl, Nat,” you breathe, rocking in slow motions so she can recover from her high.
Finally, you collapse on top of Natasha as she lets out a breathy laugh. “What happened to not fucking the same girl twice?”
“You’re infuriating,” you grunt, rolling your hips once in retaliation. You delight the small victory of Natasha whimpering under you.
Natasha rolls her eyes at your impertinence, leaning up to press a small kiss on your forehead. “Infuriating? More like irresistible.”
It’s your turn to laugh, grasping her hips and pulling her impossibly closer. “You’re right,” you whisper truthfully. You think you could stay like this forever.
“Stay if you dare,” Natasha whispers, letting her hand trace over the curvature of your angled face. As you lay above her, you turn your head so that your lips brush against her palm.
Your warm lips are so delicate that Natasha could almost weep, and that’s all the response she needs before breathing a gentle sigh, hence letting sleep drift her consciousness away.
For the first night amongst many, a quiet calm settles in your dorm room ‘til the sun rises again.
***
Don’t fall for the player.
Once upon a time, that used to be a warning, circulating within the hallways of Avengers Institution, whispered under hushed breaths and divine lips.
Tried and true, was the rumour that every single girl in this school would eventually fall victim to The Player’s effortless charisma and unstoppable magnetism.
And this might be true, because whenever you strolled the hallways or scored a touchdown, you were bound to have admirers cheering your name or flirty winks thrown in your way — However, there was a catalyst. A change, if you would.
Boys looked on in jealousy, girls looked on in intrigue. (Or maybe jealousy, too.) What used to be a smooth mouth and wandering hands became a delicate kind of control, saved for only one particular student.
Gone was your blatant charisma and swagger in treating other girls, because now there was only one on your mind — Natasha Romanoff. Be it in on the bleachers, in the hallways, or during dorm parties, never were you seen without the girl who always got what she wanted.
And that included the very subject of the mantra that defined Avengers Institution:
Don’t fall for the player.
so... this was one full month of work. i've never been this dedicated to a singular project. wow. uh, please reblog. it's the only true way of supporting your little creators on this app, so help me out here. thanks for reading. out of curiosity, which part did you like the most?
kinktober masterlist || main masterlist
#marvel smut#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff#x reader#natasha romanoff x reader smut#natasha romanoff smut#gxg smut#wlw smut#natasha x reader#natasha x reader smut#bottom natasha romanoff#sub natasha romanoff#top reader#dom reader#hozier#arsonist's lullabye#arsonist's lullaby#natasha romanoff x fem reader#fem reader#natasha x fem!reader#fem!reader#sytoran's kinktober 2023#kinktober#kinktober 2023
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Two in the Hand [Yandere Sukuna x reader]
Title: Two in the Hand [Yandere Sukuna x reader]
Synopsis: Sukuna wants to eat you.
Word count: 1000ish
Notes: yandere, threats of cannibalism, mentions of sexual conquests
Inspired by the interaction prompt: Sukuna says he wants to eat you. Reader replies: "Ah, I'm flattered, but I'm saving myself for marriage!"
The dual reactions on Yuji’s--but not entirely Yuji’s--face play out swiftly. Yuji’s cheeks flush a pinker hue at your words, while the mouth currently planted in the center of one cheek curls downward… and then upward.
It’s almost dizzying, the way you’re trying to pay attention to both of them at once. Yuji, your friend; Sukuna, the curse currently lodged inside him, of which you can only see a mouth that has shifted location three times during Sukuna’s diatribe about consuming you.
He means it literally. You realized this early on. Or rather, he admitted it directly without so much as a metaphor when he discussed the best cuts of human meat, the best ways to consume it to ensure best flavor, and the way that he wonders if modern humans taste better or worse than their predecessors.
“You would let your spouse consume your flesh?” Sukuna asks, and Yuji slaps his hand over the demonic lips on his face to silence them.
”Just--” Yuji begins, but he cringes--
The lips reappear on the top of Yuji’s hand, unbothered.
“Answer me, human. Or I’ll eat you right now.”
You almost want to ask him how he plans to eat you when he’s currently a pair of lips, but if Sukuna can make the lips on Yuji’s body speak, perhaps it’s not far off to assume they might be able to tear at your flesh.
So you start to think, and think quickly. You keep your posture meek and you even give a little bow.
"Of-of course, Sukuna." You pause. Should you call him something more deferential? It might help. You've gained the strongest sense that he sees himself as vastly superior to everyone else in the world, human and curse alike. "I mean, of course, lord Sukuna. I'd be happy to offer an explanation."
If only you could think of a proper one, beyond your initial excuse, stammered out because you didn’t know what else to say to such an awful, violent, disturbing threat aimed at you from a demonic pair of lips.
There's a moment of silence. Two, three or four. And the lips on Yuji's hand--still there, despite Yuji attempting to literally shake them off--begin frown again. They’re starting to twist, perhaps to threaten you again, when you perk up.
“It’s just that…” You lower your head in deference again. Yuji quirks his head, but you can see from the corner of your eye that the lips have ceased to curl downward. “Being devoured is the ultimate act of intimacy. And if I’m going to be one with someone forever, my lord, it’s only proper that it’s my spouse.”
You fiddle with the edge of your shirt. “I certainly couldn’t imagine some stranger consuming me, keeping me with them forever like that. It wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be proper.”
You swallow against spit and the faintest hint of bile, before daring to glance up. Yuji’s gaze goes between you and his hand, until--
Laughter comes from the lips embedded into his skin, low and mean. You can imagine, if Sukuna were in front of you, that he would throw his head back in mockery.
And then, Sukuna says something. It’s not a word that makes any sense, really. But Yuji throws his head back and suddenly, he’s not Yuji at all.
He’s Sukuna.
With black markings on his face and a look in his eyes that makes you want to run. Only then, a thought comes to mind, something your father told you when you were little, and hiking in the woods:
Never run from a predator. It only makes them chase you.
“You’re most entertaining,” he says, while you stand there, open-mouth, trembling like a cold wind has blown through the air.
“Entertaining?” You parrot. You take a step back, and he matches it forward.
“Most humans are too frightened to do anything but beg for their lives, if they even get that far, when I threaten to eat them.”
You force your hands into fists and will them to stop shaking. They don’t.
“I suppose,” you begin, looking downward, partially out of the fear of not showing respect and partially out of the way you hate to look at him. “That most people are concerned with dying when they hear you say that.”
Sukuna’s smile widens into a grin.
“And you aren’t concerned with dying, little lamb?”
This conversation might as well take place on a butcher’s block, you think.And you’re the cut of meat trying to convince the butcher to put you back in the freezer.
“Of course, I wouldn’t want to die.” You stare down at the ground. He’s taken another step forward, and his shoes--no, Yuji’s shoes--are in your line of vision. “But that is where the question of… spousal intimacy comes in, you see. With a stranger…” You shake your head, feigning distaste. “It’s simply not proper. But with my spouse, well, I would become one with them in a manner far beyond simple matrimony.” You manage a smile, feeble, but hopefully not too fake.
There’s silence, for a moment.
And then there’s a finger on your chin and it feels like cold steel as it tilts your chin up, and you’re forced to look at him, though you keep your eyes averted.
“Aren’t you prim and proper?” He says, low, teasing. “You know,” he says, taking your chin between two fingers, “it was always the prim and proper ones who came the most undone in the past. They were raised to be so uptight…”
He leans in closer. There’s something awful that seems to come with his closeness, a darkness and heaviness that threatens to pull you down to the ground.
He’s going to kiss me, you think. He’s going to kiss me and then rip open my mouth and chew the flesh and--
But he doesn’t kiss you. Instead, he lets go of your chin and takes a step back.
You look at him with what must be the loudest confusion in the world on your face. He laughs, and tilts his head back.
“If we’re to be spouses, I intend a traditional courtship first. Kissing comes later. Wouldn’t that be proper?”
There’s hardly any relief to be felt when it’s Yuji, not Sukuna, looking at you.
“Huh?”
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what turns them on (m.)
pairings: gojo, geto, toji, sukuna x reader
tags: god complex, humiliation play, monsterfucking, voyeurism, predator prey kink, fear play, brat breaking taming, degradation
☆ GOJO ☆
honestly, he has it all. He's talented, he's good-looking, he's charming. He's got you wrapped around his finger and the look of pure devotion whenever he has you kneeling in front of him gets him going like nothing else. C'mon, little cock whorshipper, no need to be so eager to get him in your pretty mouth. He's got you, don't you worry, and if you're all good and compliant he might even let you get off on his boot while he paints your face with his cum.
☆ GETO ☆
has the fantasy of having you fucked by his own cursed spirits while he watches, getting off on how they treat you, how helpless you are in face of such depravity and perversion and that ultimately he's the one in control of the whole situation as he's the one who controls the curses. And don't you like being good for him, all pretty and messed up like that? He only gives you a gentle smile when you search for his gaze with tears in your eyes.
☆ TOJI ☆
loves the hunt, the adrenaline coursing through his veins when he gives you a headstart to get away from him and sees the wide-eyed look on your face. He can be a patient man, he'll give you a taste of how it feels to escape, to run, but in the end he'll always find you. Look behind all you want, it only gives him the opportunity to see your expression when he grabs you by the neck with a wild smile and mounts you.
☆ SUKUNA ☆
he's used to obedience, he expects obedience. So when you try to keep your dignity around him, he finds immense joy in breaking you. He might be annoyed at your insolence and pride but it only makes him want to see you grovel at his feet all the more. You have no choice but to submit, and he loves seeing the dread on your face when you eventually realise. You're nothing without him, know your place little slut.
Do consider leaving feedback or a reblog if you enjoyed it <3
. ☆ ☆ ☆ .
#manipulating myself into falling for them more n more#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo smut#geto smut#toji smut#sukuna smut#jujutsu kaisen#jjk smut#gojo satoru smut#geto suguru smut#toji fushiguro smut#ryomen sukuna smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#gojo satoru#geto suguru#toji fushiguro#ryomen sukuna
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things you didn't say | jjk
summary: with the recent interactions with jungkook, you try to downplay your feelings, but your friends encourage you to acknowledge your past and move forward.
✨ title: things you didn't say | tydk couple
✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader
✨ genre/au: angst | ex-best friends to friends/lovers(?)
✨ rating: R/18+ | ✨ word count: 7.3k | ✨ playlist
✨ warnings: minor language, lana threatens oc with a fork, drinking, game of truth or dare, confessions, kissing
✨ a/n: hii--i'm sorry i've been a bit MIA in regards to writing. it's been such a struggle to get anything written. i've been thinking a lot about these two and i hope this last part gives us all some kind of resolution. enjoy. (and there's a small nod to something that'll happen in a different jk wip i'm working on hehe). and if you haven't read part one or two, please do so before reading this part.
✨ read part one | read part two ✨
The clock is nearly midnight, and you’re not ready for the magic to disappear.
All night, you’ve kept your heart at bay, questioning every move and word being spoken. Only you can see it, but a dark cloud is looming over you. Doubts linger like a predator waiting to pounce and take its prey. You want to avoid getting it wrong or being let down.
And your heart is the ultimate betrayer, but it doesn’t lie.
You’re caught up in sentimental memories from the past. His nose scrunches and boisterous cackles are reminiscent of the boy you remember. Hanging out and reliving past adventures felt like no time had passed, yet life updates from then to now made him feel like a stranger.
Giggles and claps, along with snorts and dribbles of wine, glide down the side of your mouth. The third wine bottle is on its way to being destroyed by the pair of you.
He’s careful to avoid the subject of Josie, for which you are grateful. If you could be honest, you would ask him why he was still with her and what he saw in her. But it’s not your place, nor are you in the position to pry.
Your eyes fall on the plants sitting on the corner shelf in the dining area—an array of pothos, snake, and rubber plants. They’re your typical plants, but it’s the planters that they’re sitting in that make you smile. The planters have stubby arms and legs with smiley faces.
Jungkook follows your gaze. “What are we looking at?”
You point to the planters. “Those little guys. They’re cute.”
“Thanks,” Jungkook says. “I made them.”
“The planters or the plants?”
He swirls his wine glass, letting out a small laugh. “The planters.”
“You made those planters?” You stand, walking over to them.
“When I get bored, I try new creative outlets and ceramics was one of them,” he says, taking a sip of wine.
“Wow, you have a knack for things like that, huh?” You pick up a planter, inspecting it before setting it down. “You could open up your own Etsy shop or something. People would buy these in a heartbeat.”
“Eh, I suppose. I just like doing things with my hands. It makes me feel useful.” Jungkook shrugs. He watches your every move as you continue eyeing the different ceramic pieces he’s made: vases, candleholders, etc. “Do you think people would buy the things I make?”
You lift a coiled vase, turning to him. “Are you kidding me? People would eat this shit up. Once your pieces sell like hotcakes on Etsy, Urban Outfitters will slide in your DMs.” You’re not surprised Jungkook easily excelled at something like ceramics. He’s always been talented at anything he picks up.
“And you were good at anything creative when we were in school—art class, wood shop. I would’ve failed wood shop if you didn’t help me finish my project.”
“Yeah, your birdhouse was fucking terrible.”
You scoff, walking toward him, playfully shoving his shoulder. “It wasn’t that bad.”
He deadpans. “Even birds would avoid your birdhouse.”
“Shut up! I tried my hardest.”
“Didn’t try hard enough,” he teases, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a grin on his face.
The pair of you continue to bicker about nothing, but the constant buzzes of notifications from his phone are hard to ignore. You’d catch Jungkook peering, tapping his fingers, debating if he should reply.
You sip from the bottle of dessert wine, you find it sweet and refreshing on your lips. “If you need to get that, then don’t let me stop you.”
Jungkook lifts his phone. “Nah—it’s nothing,” he protests before his phone vibrates in his hand. He glances at the illuminated screen and he finally picks it up. “Sorry, let me answer this. I’ll be right back.”
He hurries out of the kitchen and into the darkened living room. You can only hear Jungkook’s stern, hushed voice, but you can’t make anything out. His change in demeanor hints at one person, and it’s Josie. Which meant it was your cue to leave. You’ve overstayed your welcome.
You raise your wine glass, gulping the golden honey peach Moscato. Thank goodness they’re easy to guzzle. A drop runs down the side of your mouth, and you swipe it away as Jungkook walks back in.
“I’m so sorry about that.”
“Hmm? Oh—don’t worry about it. I, um, I’ve probably overstayed my welcome, so I should get going.”
“What? No, stay. We have to finish our Moscato.”
A nervous chuckle leaves your lips as you contemplate his proposition. There’s a tug in your heart, wanting to stay into the early hours of the morning, but there’s your brain telling you to take it slow and go home.
“I wish I could stay, but I should head home. I have a load of laundry to fold and sadly, it won’t fold itself.” You stand up from the bar chair, feeling a bit wobbly on your feet. Jungkook rushes to your side, gripping your waist, but you catch yourself by holding onto the counter.
“You can’t hold your liquor?” He asks with a wide grin, pulling you upright.
Clearing your throat and flattening down your jeans, you spit out, “Ha-ha. I can hold my liquor just fine. I merely tripped.”
Jungkook chuckles. “You’re a terrible liar—see, I still remember that.”
You gasp sharply, with a hand over your chest. “I’m surprised that big ‘ol head of yours can remember anything. I thought it was only filled with games and girls.” Sticking out your tongue, you conk him on the head with your knuckles.
“Ow.” He rubs the spot as if you had knocked him with a bat.
Taking out your phone from your pocket, you pull up Uber.
“Let me take you home, at least.”
You give him a look, slowly blinking your eyes at the devilishly handsome friend. Could you even call him a friend again? Maybe it was too early for that.
“Did you forget that we both had too much to drink tonight? So, you shouldn’t be driving me. It’s fine, Kook. I’ll get an Uber.”
Jungkook sighs, knowing he can’t convince you otherwise. “Fine. I’ll wait with you outside until it gets here.”
“Well, it’s not like I can stop you.”
The pair of you are sitting on his front steps, watching cars drive by and cats strolling through the neighborhood. His place is in a newer part of town, one that was built while you were away. It’s familiar and odd, just like you and Jungkook. As much as you want to forget the past and move on, there’s a part of you holding onto what the two of you had. Would you ever become best friends again? Would you even consider letting him be a part of your life? Those were questions for another time, but it felt like you had your best friend back, even if it was just for tonight.
As the alcohol in your system dwindles, the brain fog becomes clearer, along with your hearing. A nudge from Jungkook makes you come back to reality. “Hmm?”
“I asked, ‘Do you still go stargazing’?” He chuckles, shaking his head.
“Yeah, I do, but the spot I went to during college isn’t as good as the one we used to go to.”
Jungkook hums, avoiding your gaze as he picks up a small pebble from the ground. “We should go there sometime,” he mumbles under his breath. He continues toying with the pebble before throwing it into the bushes.
You’re trying to suppress a smile and swat away the butterflies growing in your stomach. It’s dumb to think things could go back to the way they were. It’s unrealistic and you don’t want to get hurt again.
Turning toward him, you want to set the record straight. “Let’s um, take this whole friendship thing slow, Kook. Dinner was great. It was nice talking to you again, but you do understand where I’m coming from, right?”
He nibbles on his bottom lip and nods. “I’ll follow your lead.”
You check your phone again. The Uber is two minutes away. As you click it off, you turn and see Jungkook staring. Something is brewing behind those starry eyes. With a raised brow, you ask, “What?”
“Can I call or text you sometime?”
“Just don’t, uh, go texting me all day and night. Your girlfriend might get jealous. Might even put a bounty on my head,” you tease, reaching to pull his black CK cap over his face.
He takes his cap off, carding his hand through his hair before placing it back on his head. As you’re immersed in your phone and looking up at the street for your Uber, Jungkook silently observes you like has for the past few years. Some might say it’s a red flag, but how else was he supposed to know if you were happy? That’s all he’s ever wanted—for you to be happy, loved, and have all your dreams come true, even though he wasn’t there to cheer you on. For seven years, he has been tormented by what he did, and he didn't want to jeopardize any possibility of any kind of relationship with you. It doesn’t even have to be like before, just as long as the two of you are on speaking terms. He could live with that.
A dark sedan pulls up alongside the pair of you. You grab the door handle, pause for a moment, then turn back to Jungkook. “We’ll talk soon?” He raises both eyebrows and hums softly, giving a thin smile. “Bye, Kook.”
Two weeks passed, and there was no text or call from Jungkook. Plenty of thoughts ran through your mind, the number one being Josie had found out about your little dinner and locked him in a basement, cutting off all contact with the outside world—especially if it was with you.
But you’re a big girl. Why should you be waiting around to hear from him, anyway?
If there’s one thing you hate about adulting, it’s cooking. You missed the days when you were in your angsty teen phase, headphones in, and hating the world, then your parents would yell ‘Dinner’s ready’. And as much as you missed home-cooked meals, you loved that your parents were off gallivanting around the world, living their retirement dreams. One day that’ll be you, living off your retirement and eating out 24/7, but for now, there’s a decision to be made about what will go in your salad for the week.
Cucumbers.
Strolling in the veggie section, your eyes scan for the green vegetables before landing on them. You stood debating on which one to get. Why are there so many varieties? But according to Google, Persian cucumbers go great in salads.
As you grabbed a second cucumber, you looked up to see the man who betrayed your trust. And no—it wasn’t Jungkook. It was his roommate, Jimin, aka ‘the trickster’.
With a stomp in your step and a cucumber in your hand, you march over to him, striking him on the shoulder with it.
“Ow!” Jimin exclaims, rubbing his shoulder as he turns around. His brows furrowed, lips in a full pout when he finds you standing behind him. “What the hell?” He looks to see the weapon in your hand. “Did you just hit me with a cucumber?” You hum. “Why’d you do that?”
Tossing the cucumber in your basket and crossing your arms, you huff out, “Because you deserved it!”
“Deserve what?”
You roll your eyes at the not-so-innocent man. Was he trying to play Cupid or something with you and Jungkook?…Because his stupid plan kind of worked. You truly had a great time at dinner, and it was nostalgic, just like how things used to be.
“Mmhm. Count your days, Park,” you quip, turning around to head in the other direction. Jimin’s calling after you to wait for him, but you keep on walking.
As he catches up, standing beside you, he nudges your arm. “Oh, come on. I was just trying to help a friend out,” he finally admits.
“Well, don’t.”
Jimin strides in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey—” You attempt to go around him, but he’s unrelenting. “Just hear me out, okay?” You sigh, waving for him to continue. “I’m sorry I ambushed you, but it was the only way you’d hang out with Jungkook. I know the two of you had shit go down in the past, and I just wanted to help you both move on to being friends again.”
“Why does it matter to you?”
“Because,” he pauses and straightens his back with his chin up. “I like you and I like Jungkook, and who wouldn’t want to see their friends be happy, hmm?”
Jungkook’s laughter echoed in your mind. You knew it was dumb to miss something as simple as a laugh, but you had heard it for so many years, and then it stopped for a long time. It felt nice to have a piece of an old friend back.
Jimin gives you a look and a grin sweeps across his face. There’s a satisfaction behind that grin and you wish you could wipe off.
“You’re lucky you’re cute, Park Jimin,” you say, stepping off to the side as a customer rolls by with their cart through the two of you.
He laughs, showing off his pearly whites. “I should check out and head off—don’t want you to start getting any ideas and start a food fight here in the grocery store.”
“Yeah, you should run.” You pretend to grab the cucumber and watch him run off to self-checkout.
A buzz from your back pocket alerts you of a notification and, to your surprise, it’s a text from Jungkook. It looks like he hadn’t forgotten about you.
Jungkook 1:34 PM
Hey. I’m throwing a small dinner for Jimin’s birthday on Friday at 7 pm. Say you’ll come.
You 1:35 PM
Define small.
Incoming Call
Jungkook
“If I come and it’s a big party like last time, then count me out.”
“Hello to you, too.”
“Right—hey. No, but seriously. I’m not a big crowd kinda gal.”
“Including me and you, there would only be six people. That’s not a lot, right?”
It’s not, but you’ll have to save your social battery for the dinner party.
“No, yeah, that’s fine.”
“And don’t worry, you know everyone—Lana’s going too.”
The big question is: will Josie be there?
A beat passes and you realize you’re standing in the middle of an aisle, probably blocking someone’s way.
Jungkook’s voice comes through your phone, calling your name a few times. “Hello? Hey. Are you still there?”
You turn to make sure no one’s around. “Yeah, sorry. I’m still here. Is, um, ‘who-shall-not-be-named’ coming?” You ask, nibbling on the inside of your cheek. It’s a name for fuck’s sake, but you can’t bring yourself to say it.
He chuckles at your subtle attempt to avoid the Josie topic. “I can promise you that she’s not coming. Is that why you’re hesitant to say yes?”
“Pfft–what! No!” you blurt out, lying through your teeth. Truth be told—yeah, it is. You don’t want a repeat of Jimin’s party.
You clear your throat, “Anyway, yeah, I’ll come. Count me in.”
“Cool! See you on Friday.”
“Can I bring anything?”
“Nope–just yourself. Oh, and it’s a surprise, so don’t say anything to Jimin.”
“‘Kay…sounds good. I’ll see you Friday.”
“Can’t wait to see you,” he said with enthusiasm before hanging up.
As you’re mixing the salad, you’re staring absent-mindedly at the abstract painting that’s framed on your wall because those five words rang in your ears on the drive home.
You mumbled those words in different tones, trying to make sense of the innocent expression. It’s completely normal for Jungkook to be excited. He hasn’t seen/hung out/talked to you in almost seven years. Yeah, that’s it—at least it’s what you’re telling yourself.
Lana waves her hand in your face. “Um, hello! I don’t think you can mix the salad anymore!”
Looking down, a few springs of leaves have been tossed out of the bowl and onto the counter. Oops. You pick them up, throwing them in the garbage bin. “Sorry—I was distracted.”
“Clearly.”
As you push the bowl aside, your focus is on the unopened bottle of wine.
“Are you going to tell me what’s distracting you, or should I wait until the wine settles in?”
“You can wait until the wine settles in. It’ll give me time to forget about it.”
Lana picks up a fork, threatening you with it. “I swear to god if you don’t tell me—”
“Okay, okay. The other day, Jungkook called to invite me to Jimin’s dinner party.” Lana narrows her eyes and hums, intently listening. “At the end of our conversation, he said, ‘Can’t wait to see you’, and he seemed excited.”
She nods her head, waiting for the rest of the story, but you don’t say anything else. “That’s it? God–that’s so boring. I thought you guys kissed or something.”
“Lana!” you cry out, almost knocking over the wine bottle.
“What? I thought he would’ve made his move by now.”
You roll your eyes. “There’s no move to make. He’s with Josie, remember?”
“Josie Schmosie—she’s old news, but you,” she points and grins, “You’re back and here to fuck things up,” she claps with a gleeful smile.
“Oh, will you stop it? I’m not back to do anything—and what the hell, Lana? You’re not helping!”
Lana chortles, covering her mouth. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m sure what Jungkook said to you is just a simple expression of how much he can’t wait to see you and get you underneath his sheets.”
You sigh, shaking your head. “I don’t even know why I bothered you with this.”
“Okay, I’ll stop. I promise—just kidding. Can I ask one more thing?” You wave your hand for her to continue. “You’re telling me you don’t even want to revel in the idea of the two of you being something more than just friends?”
The iciness of the tiled counter becomes apparent underneath your fingers, and you’re faced with a question you never wanted to answer—aloud, at least. Considering that he’s tried breaking up with Josie multiple times, but somehow is still with her, you’re unsure what will push Jungkook to cut off the head of the snake.
You hate that Jeon Jungkook has been—scratch that—is your Roman empire. He’s the one thing you’ve come back to even when you didn’t want to. It’s the same three questions you’ve had: Is he okay, is he happy, does he miss you too?
And if you’re completely honest, the answer is yes. Of course, you’ve reveled in the idea of you and him.
“I don’t know, Lana. I mean yes—the thought has crossed my mind. I’ve liked him since senior year, but it takes two to tango, and Jungkook can’t do that right now. Besides, I won’t wait around for him to come to his senses.”
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me, that’s the expression, isn’t it?
You can’t imagine going through another heartbreak from the same boy.
Things happen in life that don’t make sense.
Especially for the price of a pair of earrings, you’re currently looking to purchase as Jimin’s birthday present. The sales associate senses your hesitation and brings out a similar pair that’s on sale.
“Ah—that’s more like it. I’ll take those and do you still provide gift wrapping?” you ask, looking at the sign you saw on the way in.
“Yes, we do. Let me go into the back and wrap it up for you.”
The associate disappears through the back door, probably to talk shit about you to their co-workers, but hey–a girl has to save money where she can. It’s a fragile economy.
You roam, looking through the display cases of bracelets, rings, and watches. A gold Casio watch catches your eye–it looks like one Jungkook used to wear. He treasured the vintage-looking watch because it was his father’s. Come to think of it, you haven’t seen him with it when you saw him. Maybe he lost it or replaced it with something else.
Either way, you continue eyeing pieces of jewelry you’ll never purchase for yourself, and it’s when you look up to catch a glimpse of a girl you recognize. But it’s the man marking her neck that isn’t your ex-best friend. You’ve locked eyes with which she-who-must-not-be-named, and maybe it’s not too late to pretend you didn’t see her.
The sales associate returns the wrapped gift along with your credit card. You quickly thank her, looping your arm through the gift bag. Your eyes scan everything in view to see if the coast is clear. There’s no sign of your enemy, so you dart out of the store only to find Josie and this mystery man looking at the window display at the neighboring boutique.
Fuck, just go on your way and don’t engage. Don’t engage! You say to yourself, swiftly walking past them.
You’re busy berating yourself to hear someone calling your name. Stopping in your tracks, you sigh, waiting for Josie to catch up.
“Hey!” Josie chirps like the two of you are friendly.
“Hi…” you say glumly, with furrowed eyebrows. She’s never been nice to you before, so why should you start now?
“Can you not tell Jungkook what you saw?”
You tut, blinking your eyes at her like you owe her a favor. “Look Josie—what you do doesn’t concern me, okay?” you say, walking past her. It’s been a few weeks since you last saw her and she’s cheating on Jungkook with some guy? God, if only you could smack him upside the head right now—Josie too!
You’re a few steps ahead before you stop in your tracks and turn, walking back to her. You huff, “Tell me one thing. If you’re off with some guy behind Jungkook’s back. Why are you still stringing him along, then?”
Josie looks at you, ready to answer, but you raise your hand, stopping her. “Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.”
As you walk off again, there’s a revolting feeling in the pit of your stomach having to keep this to yourself. Jungkook deserves to know the kind of person Josie is, but it’s not your place to say anything. You’re not his best friend anymore. Honestly, you’re unsure what the two of you are and sometimes, there are some things you just shouldn’t say.
Whenever you think about seeing Josie and that mystery man, it makes you want to gag, and throw something at the wall, but mainly at her. Who knows how long she’s been cheating on Jungkook? You tossed and turned in bed, debating whether you should say something to him.
The dinner party is tonight, and if you happen to be alone with him and the Josie topic comes about, then you’ll mention it.
Another thought crosses your mind, what if he thinks you’re making this up because you’re jealous of Josie? Ah, fuck. Either way, you’ll turn out to be the bad guy, right? You’ll either break his heart or you’ll sound like a jealous person.
You don’t want to ruin whatever the two of you have, because you’ve missed the comfort of an old friend and you don’t want to lose it again.
Even though you know the code, you don’t press the four digits. Instead, you knock, waiting for someone to open the door.
“Hey!” Jungkook says, eyes dropping to your hands. “I said you didn’t have to bring anything.” He takes a step back, letting you through, and grabbing the box of Soju.
“I know, but Lana always says, ‘Don’t go anywhere empty-handed’,” you say, flashing a small smile.
“Ah, well, the Soju will go great with tonight’s menu.”
The aroma from Jungkook’s cooking is immaculate. You can almost taste the different dishes he’s prepared.
“Oh my god, it smells so good–like how your mom used to make food for us all the time.” You walk over to the dinner table, displayed with grilled meat, japchae, tteokbokki, buddaejjigae, and a plethora of banchan. “How is your mom? I miss her and her cooking.”
Jungkook chuckles softly. “She’s doing great. Her cooking, though? Not so much. It’s become too salty for my taste—Don’t tell her I told you that.”
You rub your hands together. “Oh, you bet that’s the first thing I’ll say after giving her a hug.”
“Don’t! She’ll disown me. She already hates that I’m a better cook than her,” Jungkook says, opening the box of Soju.
“You should become a private chef or something.”
He opens the refrigerator door, placing the Soju to chill. “Nah—I’ll just cook at home. I’m still learning, testing the waters, y’know?”
“I hate you.”
His eyes perk up with concern. “What did I do this time?”
“You’re good at everything you do—it’s unfair to the rest of us peasants.”
Jungkook relaxes at your answer, thinking he did something wrong again.
Placing the last Soju bottle in the fridge, he turns back, scanning you from head to toe. You’re dressed in an oversized Linkin Park band tee and jeans. He recognizes the shirt, the one you wore religiously during your emo teenage years.
“What? Is there something on my face?” you ask, touching your cheeks.
He shakes his head no and clears his throat. “I, um, wanted to talk to you...about something.”
“Oh?” Your eyes and ears perk up, but you’re interrupted by a commotion coming from the front door.
“The birthday boy is coming! Hide!” Lana says in a hushed tone. She rushes over to you, crouching down behind the counter, pulling you down with her. You chuckle, shaking your head.
With the front door open, Jungkook’s other roommate, Namjoon, walks in first–hand in hand with his girlfriend, and then following is the birthday boy.
Lana peers above the chairs to see if they’ve come in. “Surprise!” She cries out. Everyone’s ears must be ringing at this point.
Jimin gives a half-smile along with a chuckle. “Lana, you ran past us in the driveway.”
Her mouth turns into a cheesy smile. “You caught me. Sorry, I kind of ruined the surprise.”
“Happy birthday Jimin,” you say, walking over to him, arms out for a hug.
“I’m glad to see you and Kook have made up,” Jimin utters. “He needs someone like you around.” He pulls back, squeezing your arms before letting you go.
Namjoon and his girlfriend, Nora, greet you and Jungkook and then take a seat at the dinner table.
You look at Jungkook. “We’ll talk later?”
He hums in agreement. “Yeah, later.”
You’ve missed this—hanging out with old friends. It’s fun to be around people who you’ve known for a long time. You remember Namjoon being a senior when you were a freshman and the stories you’d hear about him—prom king, valedictorian; he did it all when he was in school. And Nora was the perfect woman for him. They’re both working toward their doctorate in philosophy. Their IQs were the equivalent of yours, Lana, Jimin, and Jungkook’s combined.
“Wow, I feel unqualified to be sitting at this table,” you say jokingly. Being an HR specialist was never the plan, but you’ve come to enjoy your job because you like to think you’re a good judge of character when it comes to hiring.
“Let’s stop talking about work, and have some fun! After all, it is Jimin’s birthday. How about a game of Truth or Dare?” Nora asks, looking around the dining table to get some confirmation. “I need verbal consent, please.”
Everyone glances at each other, awaiting answers. There are various responses, and everyone agrees to play.
Nora claps with a joyful squeal. “Okay, Jimin gets to ask first since it’s his birthday. Choose your victim, and anything’s fair game!”
There’s a groan from you and Jungkook. You have a feeling this night will become interesting.
Jimin rubs his hands together and then points to each person. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…” He continues the rhyme, and you know he’s itching to choose you or Jungkook, and his finger lands on Jungkook.
“Oh-ho-ho. Please pick dare, or I’ll make you answer something you don’t want to,” he says, playfully sticking out his tongue.
Jungkook narrows his eyes at his devilish roommate. “Don’t test me, Park. I can make your life a living hell, too.”
“Ah yes, I’d like to see you try.”
Your heart’s racing, and your hands are sweaty while gripping the chair’s armrest. Jimin has always been sneaky, and you’re sure he’ll make Jungkook kiss you.
Everyone’s waiting for Jungkook’s answer. He groans before replying, “Fine. Dare.”
Both Lana and Nora let out muffled squeals while you’re holding your breath.
“I dare you…to say something dirty to ____.” Jimin grins from ear to ear, staring at you.
You knew Jimin would be unrelenting when it came to you and Jungkook.
Turning to Jungkook, you say, “If you’re uncomfortable, don’t do it. It’s just a dumb game.”
“Hey! Nora said anything’s fair game and my dare is completely harmless. I could’ve asked you to do something else, but I didn’t,” Jimin refutes.
“It’s fine,” Jungkook says with a scowl. Turning to you, he leans over. His breath is warm against your ear, goosebumps are trickling on your skin, and your hair is standing on its end. He whispers, “You look so pretty—wish I could do this forever.”
“Hey, hey, hey! You’re supposed to say it aloud for everyone to hear,” Jimin protests.
You visibly gulp, returning to a straightened position in your chair. The ten words he said shouldn’t affect you, but it does. The room has grown warmer and you’re practically melting like butter in a hot pan. It’s just a silly game and you’re so over Jimin and his antics.
“Your dare was ‘to say something dirty to ___’. You didn’t specify if it was a whisper or if I had to shout it from the rooftop,” Jungkook chirps, quickly glancing in your direction to make sure you’re okay.
Jimin glares at Jungkook with a blaze of a thousand suns. “It’s implied that you say it out loud so everyone can hear.”
Lana elbows Jungkook. “What did you say? How dirty was it? Like, give us a rating, PG-13, R, NC-17?” He doesn’t answer her, but she looks at you, pointing her fingers to her eyes and then back to you, indicating that you’ll tell her later.
“I’ll let it go this time, but from now on, no whispering, and everyone has to hear what everyone says,” Jimin demands, awaiting confirmation from the group. “Okay, Jungkook, it’s your turn.”
He turns to Lana and bluntly asks, “Would you ever sleep with Jimin?” Jungkook peers at Jimin because he knows that Jimin’s had a crush on Lana since high school.
Lana’s mouth twists before answering, “Yeah, I guess.”
Jimin scoffs, offended by her response. “You guess? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know if you’re any good in bed!”
“And I don’t know if you’re any good in bed!” he chirps back.
“Please—I’ll be the best sex you’ll ever have,” she jeers, crossing her arms.
Jimin stands. “Oh yeah? Prove it.” He retorts, raising his chin in defense.
Everyone ‘oohs’, staring at the two like they’re in a stand-off.
“Prove it! Prove it!” Nora urges, pounding her fists on the table.
Namjoon fakes a laugh, muffling his girlfriend’s pounding. “I’m sorry. She’s had too much to drink. Don’t listen to her.”
Jimin leans forward, hands on the table. “Yeah…prove it.” He raises an eyebrow, wondering if Lana will back down or take on the challenge.
“Right now?” She tilts her head, scanning him from head to toe.
He shrugs. “Mm, what a shame. I guess you’ll never be able to prove it,” he says with a tut.
The chair legs squeak when Lana pushes herself to stand. “When’s the last time you got tested?”
“A month ago,” Jimin quickly replies like no one else is in the room. “I’m clean. You?”
“I’m clean too. You got condoms?”
You sink in your chair, wiping your face, watching these two go off on each other. Honestly, you can’t believe you’re witnessing this.
“Got a whole box ready for you.”
Lana marches over to Jimin, grabbing his hand. “Well, come on birthday boy.”
Your mouth drops, watching the two-run upstairs. “They’re not gonna fuck, are they?” Lana has been in a dry spell for the last year, so you don’t blame her for wanting to get laid.
“Yeah, I think they are,” Jungkook answers. “Yah—” he turns to yell toward Jimin’s room. “Keep it down, will ya?”
The rest of you continue the game, but they’re just questions to get to know each other.
“Jungkook, if there’s one thing you could take back. What would it be?”
He looks in your direction, then plays with his Soju glass, spinning it a few times. You’re biting the inside of your cheek, eyes bouncing from him and then to Nora and Namjoon.
“Um, I’d go back to the day I broke ___’s heart—take everything back.”
The couple looks at each other, forcing a fake laugh. “Well, I can sense the tension between our friends here,” Nora says. “Joonie, baby, didn’t you wanna show me that thing in your room?”
Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow. “What thing?”
Nora stands, tugging his hand, and drags him down the hallway to his room. You can hear the two bickering before the door closes.
You’re silent. Unsure of what to say. You want to move forward, but the past keeps haunting you. Will it always be like this with you and Jungkook? And certainly, there are things you didn’t say that you should say now, but what’s the point?
“We should clean up,” you say, picking up a few plates to stack them. Jungkook follows your lead, helps clear the table, and walks over to set them in the sink.
Turning on the faucet, you rinse off the plates. Jungkook leans back against the kitchen island, eyes scanning over you.
“I meant what I said earlier.”
You close your eyes, then breathe out a sigh. Looking at the boy who used to be your best friend. His eyes hold the galaxy and you get easily lost in them. You’re an explorer longing to find the next big discovery. It’s right in front of you, but at a moment’s notice, you might lose him like you did before.
“Kook…we were kids back then, and you can’t change the past.” You continue to wash the dishes, but it’s hard to focus when he’s near.
Jungkook reaches to turn off the water, gently squeezing your arm to look at him. “Yeah, I know, but I can try to fix it now, right?”
Your hands grip onto the sink, your eyes focused on the water dripping from the spout. You fixate on Jungkook’s words. How can he reconcile a friendship he tore apart? And for what? A girl?
He calls your name, breaking your focus. “Talk to me.”
There’s a tightness in your chest as you turn to him. “Fix it? I don’t want you to fix it.”
“O-kay…then tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”
If it was only that easy.
You close the distance between you, looking at him. “What do I want?” He hums. “I want you to be broken. Wrecked—just like how I was. It took me years to get over you—our friendship. I hate it, Jungkook.”
“I hate what I did to you—”
“No,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t understand, Kook.” Your heart is aching—like someone reached in, squeezing it as hard as they can.
“Then explain.”
Your eyes meet his. “You. Own. Me,” you say, your index finger pressing into his chest with each word. “These last few weeks have been excruciating. I don’t know who I am when I’m around you. No matter how hard I try to convince myself that I’ve moved on. You’ll always be the one thing that I’ll never be over.”
Your heart is pounding, and every inch of your body is burning to the touch. You didn’t think anyone could ever make you this livid. But as much as you want to hate him, moving back home simply confirms everything you’ve been attempting to hide for the past seven years—you love him.
“I was hurt, too. You don’t think I was?” Jungkook says softly, lifting your chin so you can meet his gaze. “I was devastated, knowing how much I hurt you. I couldn’t eat or sleep for days. Seeing and talking to you every day and then it just stopped. My world was falling apart, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I watched you go off to live your life while I was stuck here with you, haunting me everywhere I went. Philz, the damn grocery store, the park–you were there. There was no escaping you. So yeah, I was wrecked and broken, just like you.”
The narrative you created in your head of Jungkook and Josie was something out of a fairytale. Boy meets girl, they fall in love and live happily ever after. But according to Jungkook, it was hardly the case. You haunted him as much as he haunted you throughout the years.
Chuckling to yourself, you think about how this could've been avoided if one of you had just spoken up. Stepping back from him, you take a breath to calm your nerves. You lean back against the sink, arms folded. “Can I ask you something?”
Jungkook’s eyes flick to you and his body mirrors yours. “I’m an open book, ___.”
“Why did you give up so easily? Why didn’t you fight for me? Our friendship?”
A beat passes, and he doesn’t respond. It’s foolish to think he’d have an answer for you.
Your lips thin, and you breathe out a sigh of frustration. “It’s fine, Kook. Don’t answer. We’ll just go back to the way things were. Have a good life.” You walk off toward the living room and he follows.
“You don’t get to walk away,” he says, shutting the front door when you try to open it.
“Yeah? Watch me!” You turn back to the door, attempting to open it, but Jungkook’s hand is holding it shut.
He grips your arm. “I was scared, okay? I was young and stupid, and scared.”
You turn around and push him back. “Scared? You’re still scared! That’s why you can’t even break up with Josie! She’s cheating on you, by the way! I saw her with some guy glued to her neck. I don’t understand why you can’t just let her go.”
“I’m not scared of breaking up with Josie. I just got comfortable with her being around and didn’t think I could do any better.” Jungkook steps back and reclines on the couch’s armrest.
“You don’t think you can do better than Josie? You’re Jeon Jungkook, of course, you can.”
He forces a laugh, shaking his head no. “I barely graduated high school, practically failed my college classes. I don’t have a steady job and I have no idea what I’m passionate about. So yeah, I didn’t think I could do any better than Josie, until…”
“Until…?”
“Until I saw you at the party. I know it sounds cheesy, but when I saw you standing in the living room. It was like a sign from the universe, waking me up from this auto-pilot life I was living in. Seeing you again really shook me up.”
You could say the same thing about seeing Jungkook again. The universe loved to toy with the two of you, didn’t it?
“And then after our dinner two weeks ago, I broke up with Josie–like officially. I gave all her stuff back. I’m not answering calls or anything. So, I guess when you saw her, she must’ve moved on to the next guy–that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, me breaking up with her.”
There was a sense of relief when he said that because you were ready to fight Josie.
“Oh,” you say softly, taking a step toward him. “I guess I was wrong about you—being scared, I mean.”
Jungkook’s toying with his necklace, circling it around his neck. “I’m still scared.” He steps toward you, waiting for you to look at him. “I’m scared I’m gonna mess this up,” he says.
“How are you going to mess this up? We’re just friends.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t want to be ‘just friends’.”
Your gaze flicks to him and then drops to his lips and back up again. You know what he’s alluding to, but you need to hear those words leave his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He knows you’re teasing him. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”
“Yes.”
“Because I love you, okay? I’m in love with you. Have always been in love with you, and I’m scared to lose you again.”
Your eyes are glossy, fighting back tears. You’ve longed to hear those words from Jungkook, and like him, you’re afraid of an unknown future, but right now, all that matters is him.
As a tear falls down your cheek, you’re ready to let love in. Let him in. Discover new things. Rediscover old things. You’re ready to be vulnerable, move forward from the past, and let go of the heartache and pain.
“I’m sorry,” you breathe.
Jungkook steps toward you, cupping your face. “No, no, no. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
You shake your head. “No, I do. I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for you–for our friendship. It’s my fault too.”
His thumbs caress your cheeks. “Hey, can we agree to let the past be in the past and just focus on us now, in the present?”
Your hands cover his, and you nod, flashing a soft smile. “Mhm. I’d like that.”
Jungkook wipes your tear-stained cheeks. “Now, can I do something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time?”
“What’s that?”
His lips finally touch yours. It’s not fervent or haste. It’s soft, uncertain. But you kiss him back. You’re savoring each point of contact. His lips overlapping yours, capturing a hint of your cherry Chapstick. Your eyes are half-lidded and you pull back for air, but he leans in, bringing you back in for more. His nose bumps into yours as he turns his head, deepening the kiss. Your body presses against his, your fists balled up, tugging on his white t-shirt. There’s a glow of excitement and nervousness rushing throughout your body when one of his hands grips your waist and the other is on the small of your back, pushing you further into him.
A low whine leaves his lips when you withdraw. He reaches for another kiss, but you stop him.
“Kook—” you whisper as his forehead touches yours.
“I don’t want to stop kissing you,” he says, kissing your cheek and tracing your jawline. “Don’t think I can ever stop.”
You chuckle. “I don’t want to stop kissing you, either. Maybe we should take this to the bedroom?”
While lying in bed next to Jungkook, you simply enjoy each other’s presence. Your fingers trace stars across his chest and you love how he breathes–his chest rising and falling ever so softly. The sound of his voice vibrates through your fingers and into your body. With one arm wrapped around you and the other resting behind his head, Jungkook tells you about the dreams he had but never dared to pursue–you being one of them.
And as the clock strikes midnight, the magic of you and him didn’t dissipate. It’s here. It’s real.
#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fic#jungkook angst#jungkook x reader#jungkook x y/n#jungkook scenarios#jungkook imagines#fic: things you didn't say
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All You Wanted
Ultimate Predator x Reader
Read Part 1 here. Part 3
Warnings: human x alien relationship, incorrect description of pregnancy and birth
Summary: Maybe being pregnant wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, but having your strong and big mate close did help.
You felt so sick at times you couldn't even move.
You felt so sick at times you couldn't even eat.
If it wasn't for the huge Yautja telling you that you need to eat something, you wouldn't have.
You know he was worried.
He liked to plan everything ahead. It is what he was created for after all, to plan and to execute.
And as your pregnancy progressed, it became more and more difficult to plan. As your belly began to show, you grew weaker. You could barely sleep or move.
But you weren't broken. Oh, not one bit. You knew you needed to be strong for both of you. You wanted this child more than anything.
You were glad that your Mate often checked your and the baby's health. It at least gave you an idea of what was going on, he also tried to explain everything simply so you would understand.
Then, one day, almost everything changed.
You started to crave the food you couldn't keep down for weeks. Your energy was back and you could sleep a lot easier.
It was strange, but you didn't complain.
Then one evening.
"I wish to be in water." you said suddenly and you could tell the translator had issues.
He looked at you before pointing at the shower.
"No. I need a lake or something." Lake. On that planet? You must have gone insane.
But there was a small pond close by.
He found it not too long ago when looking around the planet. His dog kept you company while he left.
And so, when you requested for water, he brought you there.
You wanted to enter as soon as you arrived but he put up an arm, stopping you.
He entered the water, and soon you understood why he stopped you. He was waist-deep in. Which meant the water had to be very deep, thankfully you did know how to swim.
While he knew the water wasn't toxic, he checked if there were any creatures living in there which could hurt you.
You had a rather comfortable cloth wrapped around you, you usually slept in that but you thought it would be better not to be naked in the water. Even if there were no creatures on this abandoned planet.
When he found nothing, he put his arm up, you took his hand as he lifted you towards him, slowly, he eased you into the water.
It was cold, which did make you hiss a little, it made him flinch as he pulled you back up out of the water. You placed a hand on his shoulder, letting him know it was okay, and so, he put you back into the water.
As you slowly swam around, thankful for the water and how easy it made your movement.
He walked out of the pond, clicking something to the dog as it sat up. You watched as he walked away. You assumed he had to check on something.
You were leaning against the stone when you heard a shuffle behind you.
You turned and saw your mate, moving to join you hopefully.
"It is a lot better like this." you told him as he sat down behind you across the small pond. "The little one keeps moving and I can't get comfortable though." You knew he wouldn't understand, you didn't have any means of translation.
You turned back, and with your back to him, you moved slightly, leaning against the ground.
Your mate slowly got back into the water as he walked over to you, slowly pulling you closer to his chest. One hand on your belly as he moved you.
"Thank you." you said with a slight groan as you felt another kick against your husband's hand.
The yautja slowly turned you in the water.
You slowly moved in the water, feeling weightless. You placed your hand on top of his hand which rested on your belly.
You felt the little one move and by the twinkle in his eye, so did he.
You smiled as you looked around, you weren't outside the home that often, while the planet did have many trees, or at least what you would call trees, and plants, it was fully abandoned. Noone lived there only the creatures which roamed the green planet.
This planet was a lot like your mate, you noted.
This planet reminded you a lot of the elements, survival of the fittest and your mate was certainly that, a survivor.
An outcast but still a strong male.
You slowly relaxed against him as he held you. His rough skin actually felt really good against yours. You often found yourself running your fingers down his scales.
Suddenly, he moved you to his other side as he walked to one side of the pond. He let go of you, leaving you there as you watched him walk across before turning. He put on his hands out, motioning for you to go to him, to swim.
"Alright." you simply said as you slowly started to swim to him, although you were tired, it did feel nice to move a little. Each time you reached him, he moved to the other side, or while you were swimming, he moved and you followed. You really enjoyed the water moving around you as you swam. You could tell it also calmed your little one.
Once your little work out, was completed, he scooped you up and walked back to the house.
You let him change your clothes before he put you to bed.
---
You had a suspicion that your pregnancy wouldn't take nine months.
Deep down, you were preparing every passing day.
Yet, somehow, you were still not ready when the pains started.
There was no point in hiding it, you were about to give birth. You might not be ready, but your baby and your body certainly felt like you were.
Not even the pain was the worst part.
Not even the fact that you were about to give birth to a completely different species. It was the fear of you doing something wrong and it would affect the baby in a way you can't correct.
It is all you could think about as your mate hooks you up to all these machines. You heard two heart beats, your own and the baby's.
He even gave you some pain killers. Making sure you were comfortable before you had to start pushing.
You lost a lot of blood during giving birth. You fainted in and out of consciousness twice before he hooked you up to another machine.
The third time, you heard cries before fainting, knowing you did it, you gave birth to a little boy and you could finally rest, it was as if your body shut down.
You woke up hours later.
It was so quiet and you were back on your huge bed, covered in furs.
You were so disoriented you didn't know what was happening. For a second you panicked when you didn't feel your baby bump anymore.
Then you noticed something in the room with you.
Not too far from you was the small bed which he made during your pregnancy.
And in it was your babe, sleeping. You looked around, but couldn't find your mate.
You slowly moved in the bed, everything hurt but you needed to see the little one.
You slowly stood up, falling back on the bed as your legs could barely hold you, you nearly groaned out in pain that hit your abdomen. But you still wanted to see the little baby.
So, you tried again.
This time, you were able to stand but your legs were shaking as you couldn't take a step.
The little crib was so close to you, yet so far.
So, you needed a plan.
You moved back on the bed, shuffling as close to the little bed as you could before standing, this time you were able to catch a glimpse.
Your little one was sleeping on his belly. From what you could see he looked more alien than human.
You did fear you would give birth to a creature so bizarre, but from what you can see, his little face looked just like your mate's.
His sight gave you some confidence as you were able to take a step closer, then another before finally arriving to the crib.
And there he was.
Beautiful little one. Rather big but he looked healthy. And you knew if he wasn't he probably wasn't sleeping here with you. You placed your hand on the crib before slowly walking back to the bed behind you. Positioning it right next to you so you could take a better look at him as you sat down.
You wanted to hold him. Your arms were itching to hold him but you couldn't wake him.
Instead, you put your fingers through the bars and ran them down his little back.
He had scaly skin, and adorable little mandibles, he already looked annoyed much like an older version of a yautja and yet he looked so amazingly cute.
You wondered if he had the same yellow eyes you had grown to love.
You wondered what, if any, human did he have in him. He certainly didn't look human.
But he didn't have claws. Or at least not yet. his little fingers found yours as they wrapped them around yours.
You counted all five, five little fingers and five little toes.
Then he flinched a little before slowly waking.
You watched in awe. And something in you switched.
All your long nights of worry, fearing if you would be a good mother if you knew what your baby needed, all boiled down to right here and right now.
He was about to cry, you knew he was.
Your body moved on its own, slowly lifting him out of the crib and putting him against your chest.
Slowly bouncing him as you kissed his forehead. He calmed down rather quickly. Not even making a sound as you moved in the bed. You moved to sit up against the pillows and be a little more comfortable.
Now that you had him in your arms.
You had a feeling Yautja women didn't raise their children this way. But you were no yautja.
You wondered how you would be able to feed him, given his mandibles were small and he had no teeth, maybe it wouldn't be a problem.
Then the door to your bedroom hissed open and there he stood.
Your eyes locked with his as he stopped in the doorway.
For just a second you worried you weren't supposed to take the babe from his crib but then you saw it in his eyes, it wasn't that.
He clicked something and the translator that he installed in the home did the trick.
"How are you feeling?"
"A lot better now that I am holding him." he waited a second for the translation before nodding. The door closed behind him as he walked over to the bed. Slowly sitting down next to you.
His huge frame didn't scare you anymore. You fit right next to him like a puzzle. He moved one of his arms behind you, pulling you to him as he looked down at you and the little one.
"Is he healthy?" you asked and he nodded.
"Strong, healthy and cried his eyes out to be with you." he said. "It isn't true yautja custom. You having to hold him. Most don't hold their children, while others do. It is to ensure the son is strong warrior." he said.
"I will hold him until I can't because he is too big." you said.
"I figured. I know human traditions. You hold him, feed him and love him. More than yautja does."
"He is beautiful." you said looking down at your sleeping child.
"He has your eyes. Human DNA inside him, but Yautja DNA more permanent, it is why he looks more like me."
"I don't mind. As long as he is healthy." upon hearing you say that, he tightened his grip around you a little bit.
"I'm proud."
"You should be, you have a son."
"No, proud of you. Human gave birth to Yautja, strong one."
"I had good DNA to mix with mine, you said smiling up at him."
He soon let you lay back as you slowly fell asleep. You placed your baby back into his crib before moving back to your favourite position, being the little spoon as his huge body wrapped around you like a second blanket.
This was your life know, with your mate and son.
And you wouldn't change it for a thing.
After all, this is all you ever wanted.
Part 3
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Can we please get an Eris x Plus size reader!!! I know he would be feral and you would write him so good >3
I will take ANYTHING for him!!! I trust you completely x
Fire Night | Eris Vanserra
Eris X Plus size Reader
It’s Fire Night and High Lord Eris has to complete the Great Rite. He finds Y/N – he finds his maiden.
Warning: Mature themes (18+), swearing, creepy Fae dude, and smut.
MASTERLIST - 1 and 2
"Nervous?" Lucien teased from beside me, the moonlight and stars above beaming down on his tawny skin and the pleased smile he wore.
"High Lords don't get nervous, little brother," I smirked, winking at him as he scoffed, unimpressed by my sure response.
But even my own arrogance couldn't hide the fire I felt simmering in my veins, the intensity getting stronger and stronger as the moon neared its apex. Mud and grass ground under my feet as we moved through the field, the wind blowing a cool breeze that ran over my short hair, my loose slacks, and my painted bare chest.
As if the earth itself was in anticipation of what was to come.
We stopped at the foot of the field, the slight downhill slope allowing us to see the broad scope of just how many of my people gathered tonight. Hordes of males and females – dancing, drinking, partying. They vibrated with anticipation too.
For Fire Night had come at long last.
It was my first as High Lord. For weeks we had been preparing for the Great Rite, for the moment where all the magic would be funnelled from me into the earth, to the soil and trees, to my court to feed it, to flourish it.
It had been all we had talked about for several months, yet now that it was here, it all felt surreal. I could smell the burning log fires, the clouds of soot misting the night air. I could see my people thrum with excitement and arousal, keen to find a pretty stranger to escape into the darkness with.
But most importantly, I felt my power within me, like a beast rearing its head. I felt it sharpening, honing, as a predator would before the ultimate hunt for prey.
"Has anyone caught your eye yet?" Lucien asked from beside me, metal eye ticking as he glanced sidelong at me. If he felt my restlessness, he did not comment on it. "There are many beautiful females here tonight, Eris. How will you choose your maiden?"
My Maiden. The female whom I would join with – mind, body, and soul for the magic within me to be released.
My senses felt acute now, narrowing the higher and higher the moon rose. My attention upon the females here tonight narrowed too. I felt many of their eyes on me, their attention on me, hoping to be chosen, to be given the honour of the Maiden tonight.
Lucien was right, there were dozens of beautiful females here, so many, and all different – tall, short, fair, dark, petite, curved, brunettes, blondes, redheads and –
My wandering gaze stopped, abruptly. And I could not look away, even if I wanted to.
For there, at the far end of the field, stood near hidden amongst a group of females I saw her. For a moment, the fire in me quelled, the noise around me silenced, and it seemed even the breeze fell still.
For her.
She with that bright smile and those glowing doe eyes. She with luscious hair and skin that seemed kissed by the moonlight. She with that body – fuck, that body. Curves upon curves upon curves. A canvas of flesh that I desired to spend eternity exploring.
To touch and taste and pleasure.
"I don't choose," My voice was like gravel, deepening as I watched her plump lips part and her head tilt back with a laugh. A laugh I desperately wished I could hear. "I will just know who my maiden is."
That's what the Priestesses had told me – you will know, Eris, when you see her. You will feel her presence, you will scent her skin, you will hear the sound of her voice and you will know.
I grimaced as they spoke, biting my tongue to stop myself from smarting about how tradition usually came with little logic. But now, now I understood. Because looking at her, I knew.
Mine. That's what my magic hummed. That she was mine.
"It's beginning," Lucien muttered, twisting his braid from his shoulder to swing down his painted back. I watched her, something sparking in my chest as she giggled, marvelling at the moon slotting into its place high above. And then she began running toward the forest with the crowd.
Grinning brightly, her hair flowing behind her with the breeze of the wind. Her bare feet padded against the floor, her hand holding her skirt high enough to expose the soft flesh at her thighs. Incandescent, like a living star she disappeared with her friends into the trees.
The hunt had begun. I felt it in me, the near-painful heat of my fire within, the tension pulling tauter and tauter as if desperate to escape. Desperate to follow – to follow her, down that path and into the darkness beyond.
"I assume Elain is somewhere in the forest, waiting for you," I smirked at my brother, seeing something glint in his russet eye at the mention of the fair female. "Shouldn't you be off to find your mate?"
The fox hunting his fawn. I felt a mixture of pride and joy as my brother began chuckling, meandering down the hill in search of his wife at my teasing words.
"You have your maiden and I have mine," Lucien winked, his heart racing in his chest as he followed that bond, that invisible string toward his mate. "Good luck, Eris."
I laughed as Lucien moved toward the tree line, following the crowds of giddy, drunken Fae every single one of them in a hunt of their own. The drums quickened their beat, the rhythm marching in time to the pulse in me, that raging storm.
The moon was at its apex. The Great Rite had begun.
And as I stormed down the hill and into the forest's mouth, I too tugged on the invisible string within me, tugged on that insatiable power.
I knew it would take me straight to her.
***
"Sara? Maeve?" I called out again, looking aimlessly through the acres of forest and night. My voice died out in the wind, drowned by the noise of people and the beat of drums. "Guys?"
I groaned as I waded over branches and fallen trees, my Fae eyesight the only thing stopping me from cutting open my feet or falling onto my ass. I lifted my muddied skirt higher, exposing my thighs to the brash wind as I climbed over a huge tree root.
"Guys?" I tried again. I heard a feminine giggle, and I whipped to the right – a male and female rushed past me, kissing, and touching as they waded further into the forest. I shook my head at them, knowing they were one of many seeking refuge in another's arms tonight.
Fire Night, or the Great Rite as some called it was for all accounts and purposes a fuck fest. Simply a huge orgy.
Where the citizens of each court partied and drank and danced through the night, where they loosened their inhibitions and ran away with pretty strangers to engage in activities otherwise taboo. It was the one night where no one cared and no one judged, the one night where every intimacy was encouraged, every orgasm needed to fuel the harvest.
Only the High Lord had a true role tonight. To find his maiden, to join with her and through that release all the power within him back into the land. It was their intimacy that mattered the most tonight, their releases that would take us into a fruitful Spring season.
Sara and Maeve had laughed and scolded me for calling it a fuck fest, for diminishing such an old tradition. And yet, they had dragged me along tonight anyway. I was coaxed with music and dancing and alcohol, told that we would frolic through fields and bask in the moonlight and drink until we couldn't see.
And for a while, we had done exactly that.
We had sipped at the Fae wine until all I could taste was grape. We danced around the log fires with ribbons in our hair and the wind on our skin until our feet ached. We had enjoyed the lovely music, Sara flirting with the lute player, teasing him to come find her in the forest later.
And we had basked in the moonlight, frolicked through the forest, and laughed and laughed and laughed – until about ten minutes ago, when I had lost Sara and Meave in a flurry of people, my hand slipping free from theirs until I was carried away by a wave of the crowd in the opposite direction.
I was lost. And I had wandered far enough out into the forest that no one was here but me. I should have been panicked, should have been scared, but the Fae wine I had drank earlier quelled all those instincts, quelled them until nothing but the faint hum of inebriation remained.
"Not lost are you, darling?"
I jumped at the voice, the rough amusement breaking through the distant sound of music and the far-out litter of voices. I turned, my breath caught in my lungs and latched my eyes upon a male standing not two feet before me.
Dark hair, dark eyes, tall, built, attractive – and staring at me like he wondered what my blood would taste like coating his tongue.
"No, no," I shook my head, tightening my hold around my skirt, my instinct screaming at me that I may need to run. The male took a step forward, eyes darting to the exposed skin peeking under my skirt. "I was just looking for my friends."
"A pretty thing like you shouldn't be out here alone," He clucked his tongue. He stepped forward. I stepped back. He grinned and revulsion ran through me. "I can be your friend if you'd like. Take care of you."
I knew exactly how he would take care of me. Knew exactly what depravity was running through his mind as he stalked closer and closer to me. I shook my head again, the forest terrifyingly quiet now as I yielded step after step from him.
"I'm fine, thank you," My knuckles were white from how tightly I held my skirt. I eyed the clearing behind him, the path back to the people and fires and dancing. Back to safety. His dark eyes glinted like he knew he was the one obstacle in my path. "I should return to the festivities – "
"Oh, come on," His voice turned sharp, lethal and I felt bile twist in my stomach as his slender hand clamped around my wrist, tugging me toward him. I smelt the wine on his breath as he yanked me to his side. "We both know you're not here for the music and dancing."
"Let go," I breathed, trying to pull my arm free. He clamped down until it hurt. My wide eyes met his, tears in them as I tried to pull back. "I said – "
"Let go," A voice of a God seared through the air. Tinged with flames and violence. "She said let go."
The male holding me snarled quietly, his drunken gaze ripping from my terrified face to whoever dared interrupt behind him.
His hand was furiously holding me one second and then the next his fingers slipped free. I stumbled back, clutching my aching wrist to my chest and staring at that unnervingly still male as he stared ahead. He was so tall, so broad I couldn't see who was there, couldn't see what had made him so scared.
"I'm sorry," He whispered. His voice cracked. I think I smelt urine too. "I'm sorry, High-"
"Leave," That voice again, as if torn from the Cauldron itself. So much anger, so much death promised in just one word.
And with that command, that trembling weak male scurried away like the vermin he was. Tail between his legs, head bowed and eyes on the floor, so small now as he ran back toward the field. And as he shifted from my eyeline, I saw what, who had begot that fear.
"High Lord," I breathed, the air whooshing from my lungs at the sight of the male stood before me.
Tall, foreboding, broad – Glorious.
I traced his pale, moonlit skin his chest exposed and painted beautifully with intricate dark whorls, every strong hard inch of him. His hair had been cut short, the bright auburn locks like a beacon in the darkness, as were his eyes – amber, and I swore I saw flames simmering in them as he slowly stalked toward me.
The air went taut – as if time and space and life itself had paused at our meeting. And the sight of him, that beautiful, indomitable masculine strength had my body trembling the closer he got.
My back hit a massive tree behind me and suddenly, like a lamb before a lion, I was caged in, trapped. He stopped, so close I could smell the warm cinnamon, the tart apple and rich clove on his skin. I could feel the heat of the fire in his veins, could feel the sweet burn of his gaze as he traced his eyes over my face and body.
"Did he hurt you?" He asked, voice like warmed honey and tart berries. I sucked in a sharp breath when his large hand came forward, tucking my hair behind an arched ear, his fingers brushing my skin just barely. I felt that touch through my whole body.
"No, I'm fine," I whispered, the pine digging into my back. Something in me yearned to go closer to him, yearned to feed into his touch, but I fought it, let the cut of wood against my skin distract me. "Thank you, for your help High Lord."
He stepped closer and I had to crane my neck to meet his furious, wild eyes. His hand lingered on my cheek, burning burning burning. And then his other hand moved, rested against the tree beside my head, and he leaned in, so close I knew he could smell the sweet wine with every shaking breath I took.
"Do you know how I found you, My Lady?" He asked, quiet menace lacing his words. I smelt mint and cider on his breath. I nearly moaned at how good it smelt. He continued when I didn't reply. "I followed my power. Followed the scent of you, the sound of you followed every print you made in the ground."
"Why?" I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as he inched forward, his beautiful face lowering to mine until I could count the freckles across his cheeks, could see the embers crackling in his iris. My eyes fluttered when his nose brushed mine and sparks followed that touch.
"My magic wanted you; it chose you," He said, a growl rumbling through him as he traced his nose across my cheek, letting my scent invade his senses. "My maiden. Mine."
Maiden.
Maiden.
Maiden.
Mine.
There was a lump lodged in my throat as the realisation settled in me. That I had been chosen, that I was the maiden for the Great Rite tonight. Me.
Eris pulled back, dark lashes fluttering as he peered down at me, his aura addictive and dark, assessing each rise and fall of my chest. Calloused fingers cupped my jaw, his thumb brushing along the skin there, leaving fire and need in its wake.
That burning in me it was because of him. It was in response to him.
"Do you accept, My Lady?" He breathed, and the way he addressed me, was full of reverence, of awe. A match for the look in his eyes as he traced my face, languished down my body. "Will you be my maiden? Will you let me worship you tonight?"
Worship me. He wanted to worship me, not the other way around. A night that was for him, that revered his power and yet he spoke as if this ceremony was in fealty to me as if I were the Goddess he would bow before.
That hand languished down my jaw, down my neck, the touch appraising, stopping just at the top of my chest. His amber eyes dipped, darkening at the valley between my breasts, at the material that clung to the small peaks of my nipples.
Worship, that is what his eyes said. Veneration at the foot of my altar.
"Yes, High Lord," I whispered, every word as breathless as the last. His hand on my chest tightened, and the ache that spread through me became nearly unbearable. "Tonight, I am yours."
A tsunami of fire erupted in his eyes at my words and every inch of me was molten at that look. At the promise behind it.
"Then I am yours too, My Lady."
He's upon me before I can even appreciate his words, the oath behind them. And by the Mother, I could taste the fire on his lips, taste the flames burning in his sweet mouth.
My back hits the tree as Eris claims me, his lips moving against mine in a way that could only be described as hungry. Lips and teeth and tongue and spit, the kind of kiss that devoured, that did not leave even an inch of space.
I moaned at the feel of his mouth against mine, moaned more as he pressed his tall, strong body flush against me, letting me map out every muscled inch of him. He growls at the noises that slip from me and into him, one hand curling around the base of my throat and squeezing.
"Eris," I whimper, the breath catching in my lungs as his long fingers close around my windpipe just barely. He groans, like a man starved as I nibble at his lip.
"Say that again," He commands, voice like death incarnate. And every atom in me wants to obey, every atom in me lives to satisfy him.
"Eris," I plead his name again, my back arching against the wood as he begins kissing and biting furiously across my jaw and jugular, the hand at my throat keeping me rooted in place. "Eris, please – "
I cry out at the sound of fabric tearing and suddenly, I feel a cold breeze against my back and hips. More fabric rips and I whimper as Eris yanks my ruined dress from my body, savage as he exposes my naked form to him.
"Fuck," He curses roughly, eyes like Hel itself as he gazes down at my naked body, my dress a ruined heap on the floor behind us now. My body is alight as he traces every inch of me, his chest erratic as he takes in my bare breasts, my stomach and hips, the way I clench my thighs to satiate the ache between them.
"Look at you," He muses, smirking as he runs his hands down the sides of my body, nails scratching at my flesh, his pupils blown out with lust as he takes me in. "Like a blessing from the Mother herself."
I croon at the satisfied growl in every word, back bowing when his hands caress down my waist and hips, kneading the skin before settling over my ass. He groans as he fondles the flesh, canines nipping at the base of my throat.
“Eris!” I squeal when his hand claps against my ass cheek, the sound loud in the silence of the forest. He laughs, massaging the hot, aching spot and it’s almost embarrassing how wet I am, embarrassing how I can feel it dripping down my thighs. “Please, please Eris. Take me – “
“I will, my lady,” He mutters, the sound muffled as he circles his tongue around my nipple, teasing the sensitive buds. I lace my fingers into his short, silken hair and I feel him sink down, down, down, my body.
“High Lord?” My voice is shaking as I stare down at him. He’s on his knees before me, amber eyes peering up through long lashes at my naked, trembling body.
High Lord of the Autumn Court. On his knees before me.
“I’ll take you, sweet girl, don’t you worry,” He muses, and I’m not breathing as his hands come to my thick thighs, parting them and moaning at the wetness dripping from my core. His eyes flash to me, molten and cruel. “But a female as pretty as you has to come on my tongue before she can around my cock.”
He looked ravenous as he curled his large hand around my calf and lifted my leg to hook over his broad shoulder. I should have been embarrassed, mortified at the prospect of being naked in the middle of a forest, for anyone to stumble upon.
But as he neared the wet, aching spot between my legs, I didn’t care.
“Oh Gods,” I gasped at the first broad stroke of his tongue through my folds. Eris growled, a purely satisfied, appraising sound and when he traced his tongue up from my wet hole and to my clit again, my head tilted back against the bark, and I moaned.
I was grateful for the drums and the music pounding through the air, glad for how far into the forest we were, glad that everyone else was preoccupied with their own partners tonight. Because as Eris’s tongue licked and sucked and flicked against my core, I couldn’t contain any of the noises that ripped from me.
Eris groaned, content and satiated, one hand sprawled across my thigh, the other holding down my flailing hip as he lapped his tongue over me again and again, tasting me in a way that had tears brimming in my eyes.
“Taste so sweet,” He muttered, lips plucking back from my swollen clit, the sound so lewd. He didn’t waste any time though, no, he slipped lower, and I whimpered into the night air as he shoved his hot tongue into me, fucking my tight walls furiously.
Eris was a male who took his females pleasure seriously, seemed to feed off it, and seemed to relish it. His tongue slipped in and out of me and his nose brushed my clit back and forth, stimulating two spots that made my body shake from the pleasure.
My climax approached me so fast, that fire that simmered in me from Eris’s presence stoked and suddenly I felt the flames kiss my whole body.
I cried out, his tongue buried in me and his nose toying with my clit, the sounds wet and filthy, his grumble of approval vibrating through me.
“Eris, Eris – “
Everything eclipsed my vision as my orgasm hit me, so hard I felt it rattle my very bones. My back bowed and my eyes rolled, tremors wrecking me as waves of release washed over me. I was moaning, near crying, my stomach and thighs clenching and unclenching as Eris’s tongue lapped and lapped at me.
I felt my release pulsing in the air around us, a living breathing thing. I swear the wind kissed me at the feeling as if nature itself was thanking me for the power I’d let free into the world.
I whined desperately, pushing at his head and writhing, trying to pull my sensitive clit free from his merciless mouth. He chuckled, lips plucking away and relenting. I sagged in relief, back pressed flush to the tree behind me.
“You look so beautiful,” Eris breathed and my heavy eyes blinked open meeting his. He looked beautiful – on his knees, sweat coating his skin, my wetness glistening over his mouth and nose. “I wonder how perfect you'll look coming around my cock.”
He smirked, looking like a Prince of Hel as his hand snaked up my sweating body and wrapped firmly around my throat. He tugged me down, his lips crashing against mine, letting me taste myself on his tongue. My hands fell to his broad, muscled chest and his arm snaked around my back, fingers digging into me.
One second, I was before him and then the next, he yanked me down and flipped me so that I lay on my back against the grass and mud.
I giggled, my heart thundering wildly in my chest as he braced his arms on either side of me, face hovering over mine. The smirk he wore was terrifying, a promise of ruination. I could feel the tension going taut between us, feel his power thrumming in anticipation.
“Are you ready, my lady?” Eris asked, wicked menace lacing every word. I whimpered as his nose brushed mine, one hand slipping between our bodies and pushing down his slacks. He hissed as his cock slipped free, his hand curling around himself and pumping.
“Yes, High Lord,” I whispered, satisfaction filling me when Eris snarled, that title on my lips more arousing than he could think possible. His nails dug into my flesh as he hooked my thigh around his muscled hip, and we both moaned when his tip brushed my centre.
He was big, thick, and long, I could feel it as he traced through my folds, coating himself in me. I curled one hand into his short hair, the other raked down his muscled arm, his skin scorching with intense heat, vibrating with power under my touch.
“Oh – “
He slipped his tip into me, and the stretch from just that one inch was enough to knock the air from my lungs. And then my back was arching against the soft ground, as he pushed in another inch and then another until my walls were burning and my thighs were shaking from the pressure.
“Look at me,” Eris commanded, his voice hissing through his clenched teeth. I blinked my eyes open, meeting a sea of blazing embers. Eris grinned as he maxed out in me, his hips brushing mine as he settled. “Good girl.”
“Er-Eris – “ I choke, my body spasming as he pulls his cock out to the tip, leaving me utterly bare before slamming his hips forward in one brutal thrust, forcing himself back into me until he hits my cervix.
He does that again and again. He pulls out and then he shoves it back in. Every last inch. And I scream for him, I clench around him, I let him ruin me.
My body trembles as Eris begins fucking into me, his hips rolling hard and deep, stretching my tight walls until all the pain vanishes and becomes a pure, euphoric pleasure. His pace is brutal, unforgiving, his hold on my body bruising as he forces me to adjust, forces me to take it.
“Just like that,” He praises the voice of a God, the voice of a High Lord, a male who was in complete control. His lips meet mine, teeth and spit, biting my lips and battling my tongue as he moves inside me.
It was like no other experience I’d ever had, like sleeping with no other male. I felt every stroke through my whole body, felt every brush of his tip in the spongey spot deep in me through my blood and veins. Was it because he was a High Lord? Was it because of the Great Rite? It had never felt this good before.
And Eris seemed to know it, he seemed to feel the same. The noises that came from the High Lord, the snarls and growls, the grumble of deep groans that reverberated into me as he sunk in at a different angle. The small whimpers and desperate moans as I kissed and suckled his lips, his jaw and neck.
His hips jolt into me, hard and deep and fast, hitting a spot that makes tears leak down my cheeks. Tears that Eris chuckles at, a sardonic sound before he gently licks them away. His kisses were soft, so at odds with how his cock fucked me raw.
“Eris,” My mouth gapes open as that familiar pool in me begins to fill. “Oh Gods, Eris I’m going to come – “
His hand wraps around my throat, squeezing in intervals around my windpipe, in tandem with how his cock drives into me. Stars start bursting through my gaze, I see his amber eyes, I see the moon shining above, and I feel my power gathering and gathering.
“Are you going to come, my lady?” He mocks, sweat beads coating his skin, melting our bodies together. I sob, the sound choking out of me from the lack of air. “Is the maiden going to make a mess of her High Lords cock?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” I cry out at his filthy words, my nails biting against his skin, against his scalp as the fire in me rages into a full-blown storm. Eris curses at how tightly I clench around him and his amber eyes light, like candles flickering to life.
The air turns still. The wind stops moving. Even the sound around us dies out. He hits that spot in me again and again, and the power between us is starting to tear apart.
“With me,” Eris snarls, pressing a wet kiss to my lips. His movements become erratic, desperate, and that last thread rips away and he groans. “Come with me, my lady.”
I scream his name, and flames engulf us both as he roars, his cock spasming and spilling his cum inside me. Black dots fill my vision, and all I can feel, all I become is fire – it explodes from us, from him, as release waves and waves and waves over us.
It's unlike any climax I’d ever felt before, my thighs clamping around his waist, my walls suffocating him inside me and both our bodies shaking from the aftermath. Power leaks from him, from me, and I can feel it seeping into the soil, into the trees, into the very air.
I force my eyes open, watching as Eris pants above me, one hand holding my throat, the other braced beside my head. A God, he looked like a God – moonlight beaming over his wet skin, amber eyes a tsunami of flames, his strong throat working as he groaned from the pleasure ringing from him.
The ultimate release, not just sexually, not just physically, but spiritually – he was feeding our land, feeding our Court.
“Fuck,” Eris curses, voice like gravel now. He collapses against my chest, burying his head into the crook of my neck as his orgasm fades, as the Great Rite is completed. I hold him to me, our heart beats pounding in tandem as we come down from our highs. “Fuck.”
I run my hand through the damp stands of his hair, kissing his cheek tenderly, feeling his cock still inside me, softening. His hands curl around my waist and thigh, not even an inch of space between us. It was just me and him, the moon above, the forest around and the wind kissing our skin.
The earth felt fuller somehow, everything felt stronger around us.
“Congratulations, High Lord,” I smiled, feeling Eris chuckle against my skin. He kisses the junction where my neck and shoulder meet. “You’ve completed your first Fire Night.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you, my maiden,” He nipped at my jaw as he raised his head, grinning at the giggle that escaped me. His amber eyes met mine, liquid gold in them and he smiled. “Only your sweet – “
His words stopped, abruptly. As if someone had torn the air from his lungs. As if someone had frozen all movement in his body.
“Eris, what – “
Amber eyes. Pale moonlit skin. Fire, fire, fire –
And then it clicks into place in me too. I feel it like the last piece of my soul.
“Mate,” Eris breathes, and his hands tighten over my flesh. Possessive. Needy. Claiming. “You’re my mate.”
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threads of fate
pairing: peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x preachers daughter!reader
tags: 18+, mdni. dub-con, heavy and dark religious themes, dark themes, fingering, kissing, swearing, sliiight voyerism, corruption and innocence kink,
summary: after a chase in the woods, coriolanus becomes devoted to making you his one and only follower.
notes: i don't know what came over me.. enjoy!
word count: 7.2k
౨ׅৎ
the blood of the lamb, washed over the sins of those strayed away from god, atones those begging to be spared from destruction. the saccharine ichor was the ultimate gateway towards deliverance- and thus sought out by sinners and saints alike to be granted eternal redemption for the transgressions that permeated the sweats and tears of the individuals whose secrets would have them damned to the dreadful inferno beneath their feet. the sweet lamb; symbol of innocence and purity, and the wolf who hunted it, the face of deception and treachery, stood now in the heart of the woodlands, the sweet kill hidden shamefully in the asylum of the crowded aspen as it’s predator tauntingly whistled in pursuit of it’s coveted prize.
tears fell in a waterfall down into the vessels of your collarbones, trailing down and staining the frail white fabric of your dress, unveiling the soft tanned skin of your chest in its wake. with one hand clasped tightly against your mouth, you tried to conceal your wails of fear and the threatening thumping of your heart so as not to draw attention to the towering figure looming dangerously close to you, chuckling lowly as he carefully made his way through the maze of trees and forestry. your other hand was clutched desperately on the golden cross that hung around your neck, thumb haphazardly caressing the delicate engravings and etchings of the cool metal.
hail mary, full of grace, the lord is with thee. blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, jesus. holy mary, mother of god, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of death.
shame washed over you as you thought of your mother and father- your dear father, and what they would make of your inevitable disappearance. you were taught the way of the lord since you emerged from your mothers womb; it followed you everywhere you went. by all means, you had lived your life for god himself. what would he think of you now? the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of god. and yet there you were, a thief, running from, no doubt, god’s punishment for your sins.
despite your fathers widespread fame throughout the district, your family struggled to bring food and water to the table regularly. seeing the despair that clouded your mothers eyes as she failed to provide a dinner some nights for her family had driven you towards madness. you grew desperate- desperate to alleviate the stress that haunted her and satiate the hunger that settled in your stomach for the fifth day in a row. you rationalised, that with your undying devotion, god would find it in him to forgive you. with all the work your father put into his sermons and dedication to delivering god's word to the poverty stricken peoples of district 12, the divine being would be forgiving in his punishment in recognition of the loyalty you harboured.
now, you knew you were wrong.
you berate yourself for even entertaining the stupid idea of pilfering from the small bakery near the marketplace. in truth, it wasn’t even stealing. you had waited until dark threatened the sky, then snuck behind the establishment to snatch a few meagre, stale loaves that had been carelessly discarded in a small bin beside the refuse receptacles. combined with the butter you had been gifted earlier in the week, these provisions would barely suffice to stifle the persistent pangs in your stomach for a few days, at most. you naively assumed you were in solitude and hastily fled when you’d filled up your small leather bag with as many old rolls and loaves as possible.
oh, how wrong could you have been? you never caught sight of the face of the man who now charged after you- only a faint glance at a familiar blue that weaved its way through the trees- but the adrenaline rushing through your veins urged you to run, and to never stop. and now, here you were, caught in the act, pathetically weeping as you waited for the repercussions of your actions to find you.
you moved to press your back harder against the thin trunk of the tree, a twig snapping under the weight of your foot, and your eyes widened with fear as the sound reverberated against the still of the forest, the soft footsteps that trailed behind you coming to an abrupt stop. then, a voice.
“my dear, it would make it so much easier for us if you just came out. i promise you, i don’t bite.” it purred. the way he spoke was low and unrecognisable, laced with an amusement that had you shiver with the depravity of it. your crying ceased at an attempt to remain as hidden as possible, nary a whimper escaping from behind the painful grip of your hand across your mouth.
“i know you know what you did was wrong. i mean, stealing from a bakery? i wonder what your father would think of you now, his daughter a thief.”
you fought back tears at the mention of your father, shame once again weighing at your conscience, “come out, and i promise your punishment won't be as harsh as it should be.”
the proposition had you thinking for a bit, the truth behind the words appealing to you for a sliver of a moment. before you could consider your next step; find an out or comply to the omnipresent man’s offering, a gunshot pierces your ears, and you let out a shriek so loud you swore all of panem could hear you.
you begin to wail again then, uncontrollably, screaming and begging for respite as your body gave in under the weight of itself; your knees buckling and falling harshly against the ground. you shake with the ferocity of a small rodent before you’re pulled up by your shoulders and engulfed into a familiar, warm hug. your eyes wide with panic, you thrash your head back in forth in an attempt to find the man who was tormenting you, only to see that he was now gone, and in his place, a small search party lead by a peacekeeper cheered in glory at the sight of you. relief washed over you as you looked up to find your father, falling into the safety of his arms as he escorted you out of the forest, giving a curt thank you to the peacekeeper and another man you recognized to be one of your fathers students, before dragging you to the comfort of your home.
౨ׅৎ
when your father found out the reason behind your being in the woods, you’d landed yourself a life of extra chores and punished to more frequent church visits until your father decided you had repent enough. your father, reassuring you of god's forgiveness as his child, warned that your actions wouldn't fade from memory. he emphasised the necessity of restoring your relationship with the lord and savior. you were under his constant watch, now. each morning, before dropping you off at school, he compelled you to pray fervently for protection over your family and yourself, urging you to plead for deliverance from the consequences of your actions.
with your increased presence in church taking up most of the time you had to yourself, you found yourself taking note of the other frequent church goers. your father, of course, and his dedicated student, were a constant in your peripheral vision. the old couple who lived only a few minutes away from you, mrs. harmon and her froofy, dirty church outfits, her boisterous children, and her grumbling husband. you noticed small things; like how the wife of the newly-wed couple in town had stopped wearing her wedding ring, and how her husband seemed to never give her a second look. how the twin boys in the grade below you suddenly surpassed you in height, and their younger sister now seemed to lack a certain innocence that was pertinent in her character before. you made a small promise to yourself to pray for her.
there was one person, however, who you were not familiar with, yet you could feel it in the deep ends of your bones that you knew exactly who he was. he had begun to appear only once a week, his shiny buzzcut and blue peacekeeper uniform sticking out sorely from the rest of the crowd. then, twice a week- then three- and then suddenly you found you could not escape from him. everywhere you turned, he was there. when you walked home from school, you would catch him patrolling somewhere nearby, or laughing and chatting with his peacekeeper friends. when you opened the church doors for mass, he would be first to walk in, handing you a small smile before making his way to sit in the pew farthest away from you. he was there, everywhere you looked, and it unsettled you greatly. there was a lack of sincerity in his eyes when he smiled, and for a moment you thought that it had seemed like hunger, but you pushed the idea away before your brain could process it. one night, when closing the church doors and heading to your home, the small sound of rapid footsteps triggered your fight or flight response, the latter winning. when the man rested his hand on your shoulder politely, handing you a handkerchief you had dropped, you felt a strange sense of deja vu. the speed at which it sounded he had ran towards you didn’t match how he stood before you now; breathing even, chest pushed out pridefully, his dark sapphire eyes never leaving yours. but you were so sure that the man had been sprinting, just like the man who had sprinted after you a few weeks ago had. you gave him a small thank you before speed-walking your way to the front door, panting heavily as you locked it shut behind you and your hand made its way back to the pendant on your neck, grasping it so tightly it hurt, the stipe digging into the soft flesh of your palms as a way of grounding yourself back to your senses.
that night, when you got on your knees to pray, you couldn’t shake the look on the mans face from your thoughts. his features themselves were even, lacking any sense of emotion, but his eyes troubled you the most. the way they bore into yours made you feel as if you would burst into flames right then. it made you feel as if there was something he wanted from you, but your poor innocent soul couldn’t figure out what. when you nestled yourself into your bed that same night, you vowed to stay as far away from him as possible.
you hadn't realised how hard that would be.
he approached you the next morning. it was saturday, and the usual gloomy weather of district 12 had been forced away and replaced with the harsh, bright sunlight. it shone spectacularly through the stained-glass windows, gracing the dark wood of each side aisle with vibrant reds and yellows and blues and brightening the deep red carpet that lay evenly along the nave. you stood behind the pulpit, readying your fathers sermons and homilies for that week's sabbath. he had barged in unannounced, making his way towards you slowly as you pretended to ignore the tall figure making its way down the red path.
“good morning, miss,” he spoke lowly towards you, peering upwards slightly as the pulpit was slightly taller than the rest of the church, and you pretended to read through the cards and flip through your bible as if it were you preparing to speak in a mere 15 minutes. he cleared his throat once, and you waved your hand nonchalantly towards the pews, “the preacher will be ready shortly. please, have a seat.”
from behind your fathers flashcards, you could see a small tick of his jaw and he pressed his lips together tightly, nodding slowly before making his way to his usual seat, feigning interest in the architecture of the building.
“its quite beautiful, no?”
you hummed.
“i wonder how the district could afford to pay for it.”
the comment caught you off guard, causing you too look up at him with scrunched brows, your lips parted in confusion. surely, he knew the capitol had paid for it- and even then, what did it matter? a sanctuary for god deserved only the best of resources, you thought. the beauty of the church was a reflection of the beauty of your religion, the intricacies and meticulous carpentry of the building spoke to one of the three transcendentals that point to god. of course, it would be beautiful.
before you could think of a response to the bizarre musing, your father burst in, pressing a light kiss to your cheek and thanking you kindly for preparing for him. the man stood up to make his way to greet the preacher, and you were out of sight as fast as lightning.
that cycle continued for a while. he would sit in the pews, admiring the architecture (when really, he was admiring you), then stand to greet your father enthusiastically, frowning ever so slightly when you disappeared the moment he made any closer to your father. eventually, you had become quite good at avoiding him. you saw him less in the markets, saw less of him in church, and rarely caught sight of him anywhere else. that was, until you found him at your doorstep one hot summer day.
you and your mother swore it was the hottest day to see district 12, and you sat on the porch in a small, lace trimmed top and cut-off jean shorts. your hair was carelessly tossed into an updo to relieve your neck of some heat, and you sat in your fathers old chair as you sipped on some juice your family had been given earlier that day.
you weren’t expecting any visitors that day, so it was safe to say you nearly choked when the man appeared from behind the path of thrush that hid your small home from sight of the church, dressed only in the blue dress pants of his peacekeeper uniform and a thin white shirt, silver dog tag swinging like a pendulum across his chest as he made his way towards you. your father had emerged delighted, mr. snow!, he cheered, patting the man- snow, what a fitting name- on his back and urging him inside. you scrambled to the backdoor and into the kitchen where your mother rest, the door slamming behind you loudly as you entered, causing her to jump.
“dear?”
“that man daddy’s talking to- who is he?”
she gave you a halfhearted shrug, “i wouldnt know, pumpkin, it’s probably business with your father. he goes to the church, no?”
you nodded, pacing back and forth, ignoring the crazed look your mother threw at you as you processed the information.
“do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from evil,” she reminded you, and your jaw dropped at the silent accusation she threw at you.
“absolutely not, mother!” you stormed back out the door, drowning your mother’s laughter out with frustrated mumbles of has she lost her mind? and what a woman! how she could ever think something about snow was tempting you was beyond your understanding. however, when you made it back to your chair and your watered down glass of juice, the sight of a shirtless ‘mr. snow’ and your, otherwise fully dressed, father in the garden, dripping sweat shamelessly into your mothers vegetable patch, a snap thought breached your mind that perhaps there was something tempting about the mysterious man.
that sent you into a frenzy. your knee bounced anxiously as you silently begged god to forgive you for the thought, and that it was simply intrusive, and not reflective of the morals and high grounds you held closely to your heart. nervously, you grabbed the book you had abandoned weeks ago and shoved your nose into the pages as if to distract yourself from your own brain and its wicked ministrations.
you weren't sure of how much time had passed, yet it felt like the man's stay was suspiciously short as he and your father made their way inside. you gave him a curt nod, and your father gave you a small lecture about manners, insisting that the two of you become accustomed to one another. and there you were, legs drawn up to your chest as if to protect yourself from the sinful looking man before you.
“my name is coriolanus snow,” he said. coriolanus. it was unlike any name you’d heard before. you returned the gesture softly, hoping that he would disappear behind your father into the house and you could breathe again, but he stayed and stared at you with that look, “your father tells me we’re the same age. he’s a nice man.”
you bit your lip at that. the same age? there was something about coriolanus that seemed older. it also begged the question: what was someone his age doing as a peacekeeper? you opened your mouth to pry at him, but he cut you off, stepping closer.
“tell me, dear, what sins weigh in your heart?”
you drew yourself back further into the safety of your chair, face laced with disgust as you tried as hard as possible to distance yourself from the imposing man now caging you into your confinement. his breath was heavy on your nose, and your heart pounded harshly- from what, you weren’t sure. fear? a sense of danger? temptation? his lips were so close to yours now, you could smell the faint scent of cologne that mingled with the saltiness of his sweat, and you tried your best to keep your breathing as even as possible, feigning indifference to his proximity to you poorly.
“i dont know what you mean, mr. snow.”
he smiled at that, laughing lowly. he didn’t expect you to know what he meant, of course, but he had an inkling that if he played his cards just right, he’d have you right where he wanted. he leaned closer now, lips dodging yours, lightly brushing your nose as his head turned to whisper in your ear.
“do you think of me at night? our little chase?”
“wh-what?”
“you’re smart, miss. think about it.”
he disappeared into the house, bidding goodbye to your mother and father and whisking himself away. your mouth remained parted, eyes wide with confusion as you tried to process what his words could have meant.
surely, he couldn’t mean..
no. absolutely not, you decided. coriolanus may have unsettled you ungreatly, but he was a peacekeeper- and your father had always told you that they served to protect you, that they would never harm you purposely. you stood shakily and made your way quietly into the old house, reeking of old wood and boiled vegetables. you sat on the couch near your brother, holding his head to your chest as you stroked his hair comfortingly, still trying to process. from the kitchen, your father called, “he’s a nice boy, no? perhaps he could be of some influence to you, sweetheart.”
you agreed meekly, despite disagreeing with your father completely. you werent entirely sure what he saw in the man at all, yet you were adamant that he was, in fact, not a good influence, but a parasite. you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. he made you feel unsafe- unsure of yourself, and for some reason, your faith. you decided he was no good; but yet you couldnt make any understanding of the bittersweet ache between your thighs.
when coriolanus walked home that evening, he couldn’t fight his smile. he saw you, in all his glory, struggling pathetically under his gaze, squirming and fidgeting uncontrollably as he trapped you within the cage of his arms.
the sacrificial lamb has been caught, he thought.
what a stupid, stupid lamb.
౨ׅৎ
you rushed into church near 5 am the next day, sleep deprived from the constant running of your mind and the damned words of coriolanus snow.
“our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,” you repeated to yourself, kneeled below the large wooden crucifixion of jesus, hands clasped tightly together, your head resting painfully against the white of your knuckles.
what you were praying for, you didn’t know. you couldn't go to the confessional- heavens forbid, no. confessing secrets of your dreams of coriolanus’s hands, the outline of his jaw, the way he whispered his sinister words so sweetly into your ear- to your father? you would rather be hanged for the whole district to see. there was nothing sinful about your dreams, exactly, but it felt sinful, dirty, downright hellish. you thought of his lips, the soft and pink flesh of them, the stormy blue of his eyes- and, oh god, you couldn't stop replaying his words in your head.
‘do you think of me at night?’ he had asked you so earnestly. as if he needed you to tell him yes, you did think of him, every night. it wasn't a lie, of course, only the way you had begun thinking about him had changed. but that wasn't your doing at all, was it? no, he was to blame, for speaking to you like that, for dangling his dog tag so close that it brushed your cross indecently, for showing up to your house and stripping himself half naked, sweating impurely over the soil you and your mother sowed and reaped with love, with innocence, purity. it was entirely his fault, from the way he seemed to be forcing himself into your life. the church door creaked open, and you continued to pray, “give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”
your heart raced as footsteps neared closer, as if you knew exactly who they belonged to.
“what troubles you, little lamb?” his voice took you with fear, the way it rumbled in his chest and reverberated on the walls confining the two of you, alone. you raised your head, refusing to look back at him, “i do believe that's none of your concern, mr. snow.”
you heard him chuckle lowly, repeating the words mr. snow to himself under his breath. it made you shiver, and you recited the bible verses your father drilled into your head from as young as you could remember: vindicate me, o god, and plead my cause against an ungodly nation; rescue me from deceitful and wicked men.
you could feel him now, knee pressed lightly against your back. you stood up and turned to face him, eyes wild and daring as they searched the azure maze of his own. his hand reached to stroke your hair, and you flinched.
“why is it that you fear me so much, do you think?”
“i’m not afraid of you.”
he tsked, “‘fear’ is different than ‘being afraid’, darling. to be afraid is a fleeting moment. your brain's immediate response towards danger,” he moved to touch your hair again, now more forcefully, tucking the loose strands along your hairline behind your ear.
keep back your servant also from willful sins.
he continued, “i asked, why do you fear me?”
you tried to search deeper into his eyes, trying to grasp any understanding at what he was trying to communicate to you. your mind ran amok, and it was no help that coriolanus's hand now snuck its way into your fingers, fidgeting with the soft digits mindlessly.
“i don't.. i don't know-” he cut you off by stepping closer before you finished. you had wanted to tell him that you didn't know why he thought you feared him, that you didnt understand the question, and that you needed to get home soon, so to please excuse you.
“i think you fear what i impose between you and your precious god.”
you let out an involuntary laugh, giggling childlishly at the accusation. you stopped, when his eyes darkened.
“i’m sorry, mr. snow, but i really don’t know what you mean!” you were struggling to contain your girlish giggles. what he imposes between me and god? it was such a bizarre statement, so plainly laid out for you, that you couldn’t even comprehend it entirely. your laughing ceased, for good now, when his hand circled tightly around your wrist.
let them not have dominion over me.
then i will be upright.
“i’m not stupid, love. i saw you, yesterday, practically drooling over me. i wonder what your father would have to say if he saw the sinful way you ogled at me,” he paused, and you swallowed painfully, “and dont tell me you’ve forgotten all about our little chase, hm? wasnt it exhilarating?” now, panic engulfed you. you tried to back away from him as the pieces etched themselves together in your brain, but his hold on your wrist was only getting tighter.
“that was you?” your voice was impossibly small, weak from the alarm that blared in your head. your eyes darted back and forth desperately, searching for an out, hoping and praying that someone might burst in and see the scene before you, tear hades away from his persephone and save her from her impending doom.
i will be blameless and innocent of great transgression.
he dipped his head to your neck, lips deliciously grazing over the supple skin of your collar bone, pressing kisses so light you could barely feel them as you tried to wriggle from his grasp.
“of course it was me, darling,” the way you felt him smile against your skin was chilling, and you fought back tears as he moved impossibly closer to you, “isn’t that adrenaline rush just addicting? tell me, dove, what do you think about me when you lie in bed and replay our precious little moments together in that pretty head of yours?”
your breathing quickened, and you winced as coriolanus gripped tighter at your wrist, his other hand painfully gripping the small of your waist, massaging the gentle muscle of it. you could feel his entire body pressed against yours, and a tear threatened to slip when you felt the hard pressing of his lower region on your stomach. you shook your head, refusing to give in to his line of questioning, but his grip on your waist tightened and you cried out in pain, “your hands!” you whined, relief slowly making its way to the sore area of your waist as he loosened his grip. he made to grasp your chin under his index, forcing you to keep eye contact with him and urged you silently to keep going.
“your..” you let out a shaky sigh, “your h-ands, your voice, the words you speak to me. i don't understand why.”
he cooed at you now, as if proud of you for speaking up. your eyes darted to his lips, and you saw something flash in his eyes, “anything else?”
let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight,
lord, my rock, and my redeemer.
you tried to look down at your feet as if to run away from the question, but his hold on your chin was unrelenting. shamefully, you whispered, “your lips.”
he let out a small ahhh, as if the admission shocked him. he knew, of course. of course he knew. you poor thing. sweet, little lamb, so innocent and pure. untouched by lust, blind to its deceptive allure. he knew from the moment he’d gone after you in those woods and failed to catch you, that he would do everything in his power to make sure you would never escape his grasp again. he knew when his frail attempts at getting closer to you failed, he had to resort to a harsher solution. he needed to infiltrate every space you breathed in, and break his was into your mind until he had you right where he needed you to be: malleable, so he could corrupt you just as easy.
he knew your father protected you, the extent to which he went to protect you, as well. banning sex education in your school, ensuring your mind stays as pure as possible to the exploits of fickle men and their wants. you knew the basics, thanks to your mother and her worrisome self, but her teachings were meddled down into some confusing allegory that left your mind as clueless as before, so that you stayed intact, perfect and pristine in the lords eye as well as the rest of the district, in your white frilly dresses, light makeup, and perfectly crafted manners.
he knew how easy it would be to get in your head. the human body is funny, like that, wherein it begs for things it doesn’t know of. he knew when he flexed his hands you caught sight of it, when he swallowed you intently watched the way his adams apple bobbed, he knew when he showed up to your home and stripped himself almost bare it would plague your mind with an unknowing want and desire, and soon enough, you’d have no choice but to give in to it, abandon your god and his lessons for coriolanus alone.
he ran his tongue across his bottom lip, swiping his thumb across yours as if to mirror himself, and then ducked his head closer, “go on.”
you squeezed your eyes shut. everything felt so, so wrong, and you didn't know why, but you couldn't stop. when he continued to toy with your lip, slightly plunging the tip of his finger past them and into your mouth, you let out an involuntary, small moan, and your legs shook and quivered as the strange ache from yesterday returned.
“wh-what?”
“kiss me.”
your eyes widened, and you shook your head. coriolanus thought it was adorable, how you struggled to piece together what was about to happen, how your brain tried desperately to fill in the blanks with information it didnt know. you heard coriolanus sigh disapprovingly at your protests and he shoved his thumb further into your mouth, causing you to choke. he removed it, then wiped the saliva that remained over your bottom lip before inserting the digit in his mouth, tasting you.
“its okay, little one. you can kiss me. he wont mind,” you didnt realize your fingers lingered over the necklace nestled on your chest, and your gaze followed his finger as he gestured upwards. he wont mind. you racked your brain over the things coriolanus said to you from he entered the church.
“i think you fear what i impose between you and your precious god.”
now, you truly hoped someone would burst in, and you could scream and wail as you explained the horrors coriolanus was about to commit to you (even if those horrors were unclear). he was so close, and something still pressed hardly against your stomach, and suddenly you couldn't breathe, “he would mind. i promise to pray for you coriolanus, i don't know what troubles you, but the lord-”
he cut you off by shoving his lips onto yours harshly, groaning at the contact. his hands made their way to rest on your clothed breasts, and you wriggled and struggled to try get away from him, but your efforts were fruitless. you were cornered, now. a lamb with nowhere to run or hide, forced to face its fate. he ravaged your lips, hands restless as they caressed all over your protesting body. the ache between your legs grew, and a small part of you realized that the last thing you wanted right now was for someone to walk in, and see the preacher's daughter being completely defaced by a peacekeeper.
“your god cant give me what i need, angel. cant you see? you did this to me,” his hand grabbed yours as he pulled away to speak, trailing it down the hard muscle of his abdomen and palming the hardness that threatened to burst through the seam of his pants. your eyes were wide and doe-like, and coriolanus never needed to fuck you more. his lips met yours again, and his other hand fumbled to remove his pants, hissing when the air hit his straining cock, all while you tried your best to distance yourself from him as much as possible. your face was hot, and your hands remained in the air, unsure of where to rest them, as you slowly allowed coriolanus to slip his tongue into your mouth.
“good girl,” he practically growled, and you let out a pathetic squeak when you felt your core tighten, pleasure washing over you at the small praise. coriolanus was turned on beyond conception, moaning disgracefully as he stroked himself through the fabric of his underwear. if you could see the spectacle the two of you were making, in the middle of church- no less, the thought alone had coriolanus close to the edge. you gasped when you saw him palm himself, and without thinking, your hand brushing his ever so slightly, lingering a second too long before his eyes snapped up at yours, pleading you to go ahead and touch him.
when you finally pressed your hand to his clothed region, you swore the way coriolanus threw his head back with a small mewl and moan would land you an eternity in hell alone.
“thats it, baby, jus’ like that.. keep going..” you gasped when his hand sneaked its way under your dress- your sunday best- your hand faltering a bit when his long middle finger lightly grazed your clothed cunt. the foreign feeling it elicited from you had you desperately searching coriolanus’s eyes for an answer, unable to speak as his fingers that toyed with the most intimate parts of you had you moaning softly and lowly, uncontrollably. you continued to palm him, and his hand slipped into the lacy cotton of your panties, cursing hotly under his breath when he feels you.
“so wet for me. you dirty fucking girl, look at you: making a mess in church.” you didnt know what he meant, but shame burned through your skin. confusion grappled at you and you began to sob, not ignoring the way your tears seemed to make coriolanus throb beneath you, “please stop, coriolanus, this is immoral.”
“baby, if it feels good, then it cant be bad,” he stroked the tear stains on your cheek softly, cupping your face with false earnest as he pulled your head to lay on his chest, “does it feel good?”
coriolanus reveled in the way you looked up at him, like a devoted follower in the arms of their saviour. when you nodded slowly, he gently spun you around and shoved your face into the cool wood of the crucifixion behind you, his hand painfully pushing against your cheek enough so that you couldn't look anywhere but above you, into the sad eyes of jesus.
your panties were ripped off with a shriek that was muffled by coriolanus’s hand around your mouth, and you sobbed as pain mixed with pleasure as he gave a few slaps to your dripping cunt, mumbling about how pretty it is. in a desperate attempt to wiggle out of your new position, you accidentally arched your back further, giving him more access.
“let me show you how i can love you,” he whispered into your ear, before returning his fingers to the slick mess that coated your cunt, your body jolting when they occasionally brushed over your clit, the unfamiliar sensation already too overwhelming for you to handle. with a few more agonising strokes of his fingers, he prodded at your hole, teasing your entrance in a way that had your eyes roll to the back of your head. when he finally slipped them in, your hand pounded desperately against the cross you were pressed up on, pleads to stop falling pathetically into the hand of coriolanus and onto deaf ears. he was merciless with it, greedily pounding his fingers into you in a way that had your knees gravitating towards each other and animalistic grunts of pleasure vibrating through his hand.
something in you burned, your body was pleading for more as an unfamiliar coil formed in the pit of your stomach. your hand continued to bang against the cross, tears falling as you forcibly peered into the eyes of your saviour while you got your cunt ravaged in the middle of his shrine.
“oh god, oh god” you mumbled through his hand. you were unsure if it was shame, or the delicious way coryo pumped his fingers into you, but you grew lightheaded and dumb, eyes hazy as you grew closer to your release.
“thats it, take it. you’re filthy, taking my fingers so well in the middle of church.” now, both hands scraped desperately against the cross, leaving marks in the wake of your fingernails digging into the hardwood. coriolanus tugged your head further up, forcing you to stare at him with tears streaming down your face and desperate pleas for him to stop going unheard. he smiled coyly when he felt your pussy clench around his fingers, and he withdrew them just before you reached your release, a loud, agonising whine of relief and desperation leaving your smushed lips. he was quick to replace his fingers with his cock, the slow intrusion of it making you let out a low, droned out groan as he stretched your virgin cunt past its limit.
he removed his hand from your mouth, and a string of prayers tumbled out of it, “o my god, i am heartily sorry for having offended thee,” and “and i detest all my sins because of thy just punishments, but most of all because they offend thee, my god, who art all good and deserving of all my love.” it earned you a slap to your ass, and you cried out loudly as coriolanus shoved your dress off of you, watching as it fell uselessly around your legs into a pool of white. he flipped you around, admiring your soft breasts and the way they spilled over in the hold of his fingers, and he traced the soft, plumpness of your belly as he chuckled lowly at your continuous prayer. with his cock still nestled into you, he leaned forward to whisper in your ear.
“god loves you, but not as much as i do,” and then he thrust his cock into you with such force that you nearly tumbled to the floor. his hand rest on your lower back, forcing you to arch closer to him, your hips meeting his unwillingly at his fast pace. coriolanus’s cock grazed the inside of your gummy walls perfectly, and you found yourself slipping from reality as he continued to pound his dick into you, moaning when you contracted around him without rhythm, your inexperienced self almost overloaded with pleasure, unable to control your body.
“you’re being such a good girl, taking my cock like this,” he weaved a hand through your hair, “‘n you’re gonna let me cum inside you, yeah? gonna make a woman out of you.” you couldnt focus on the words he was throwing at you, lost in pleasure as the tip of coryo’s dick hit that one spot over and over again. the way he spoke to you had you at a crossroads, and it didnt help that he was fucking you into oblivion, and now you understood what he had meant when he said he imposed between you and god, because you were becoming addicted to the push and pull of his cock inside of you.
“thats right, take it. you look so pretty all dumb and fucked out on my cock,” you reached to grab his arm to steady yourself, your orgasm creeping in closely, “you gonna cum for me?”
you didn't know what it meant, but you nodded anyways, completely lost in bliss, “coryo..” you moaned out, his brows raising slightly at the new nickname, a smirk settling on his face. moans and mewls lewdly left your mouth as he quickened his pace, his unused hand massaging at your tits, twisting and pinching softly at your nipples as you thrashed with pleasure under him.
“gonna make you worship this fucking cock, baby” he was close himself now, his head falling and his voice itching up an octave, lewd moans clashing with yours as the rhythm and pace he set began to falter, and he fucked you as hard as he could as he chased your high and his own, “gonna make you devoted to me. you’re never gonna wanna be away from me again,” his face twisted with pleasure, and you circled your arms around his neck as you tried to ground yourself, the coil in your stomach slowly beginning to unravel and threatening to snap. a shadow passed, and your eyes widened with terror as you slapped coryo’s arm haphazardly, begs falling from your mouth to stop. he turned his head lazily to look at what you were whining about, but his thrusts didn't stop.
“let them see what a dirty fucking girl you are.”
your walls tightened and your eyes rolled so far back into your head you were scared they wouldn't come back up as your orgasm reached you. you covered your mouth, shrieking desperately as the shockwaves of pleasure rolled over you, the newfound feeling unrelenting as it took over every part of your body. coriolanus repeated words of encouragement and praise as he fucked you through your high, before bottoming out and releasing his load in you, christening your walls. you whined at the feeling, so full and drunk off of it that your concerns of the passerby faded. the both of you stood there, panting heavily, both groaning when coryo slid out of you. he slapped his tip on your puffy clit one, two, three times, before a loud knock rapped on the church door.
you could feel coriolanus’s spill leaking out of you as you crouched on your knees, hidden, and you cried silently, the reality of what had just happened to you settling in. coriolanus snow had corrupted you, in the worst possible way, and now you could only feel yourself crave more of him. as he spoke to the intruder, egging them to run along, a thumb caressed your head gently, as if to tell you he had everything under control. the small southern drawl he’d begun to pick up was more prominent. when the intruder finally left, you were forced to your feet, and coriolanus grabbed your ruined panties, resting on his knees below you to shove them into your used cunt, before making his way back to his feet, towering over you. he spoke to you like he would if he were on duty:
“you go on home now, miss. and tell your father i say hello.”
and you did.
౨ׅৎ
@dumbsoftheart, 2023
#coriolanus snow#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus x you#coriolanus snow smut#tbosas#the ballad of songbirds and snakes
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How they eat you out.
Starring: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x f!reader; Shinji Hirako x f!reader; Isshin Kurosaki x f!reader;
Format: short-imagines;
Warnings: nsfw, language, dirty talk, overstimulation, shibari, vaginal fingering, oral sex (reader!receiving), daddy kink, marking the partner, hair pulling, praise kink, possessiviness, pussy slapping, edging, orgasm denial, dom!Grimmjow, dom!Shinji, dom!Isshin, small age gap between Isshin and the reader, sub!reader;
Plot: they love you, they love you so much that giving you oral has become an art for them. But they all have a different style, their own unique way of doing it. How do they eat you out? What do they do to make you melt under their skilful tongue?
PART ONE| PART TWO| PART THREE.
﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏
Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.
This man is a menace. A predator, he is keen to devour you messily, obviously. When he eats you out, Grimmjow makes you feel like a hapless antelope chased down the savanna by a leopard, caged in his chokehold, quite literally. His nails felt like claws digging onto your thighs to keep you in place at his mercy. In his shimmering piercing blue eyes, you did not fail to recognize the panther living inside of him. Grimmjow was a wild animal, you had to deal with it.
When he feasted on you, he always did it as if he was a starving man. He lapped, groaned, manhandled you to accomodate you in a position he enjoyed the most in that very moment and he even slapped your pussy, if you dared to protest.
Albeit he could be rough, though, he would have never hurt you.
Grimmjow was not a man prone to pour his heart out in tear-jerker love confessions. After telling you he liked you, he meant it and confined himself to territorial gestures and passionate nights of lust and love. His ownership over you was already established, yet he loved to remind you of how deeply he cared about you and your ultimate pleasure by spending hours with his face buried between your legs.
He could never get enough of you, of your taste, of the way you writhed beneath the licks he gave you. His tongue lapped at your core non-stop, his feline eyes scrutinizing in delight the way your face scrunched up, as he made you navigate the different seas of lust and pleasure.
As you laid on your back, his hands keeping your legs spread in front of his face, his mouth worked on your pussy to make sure not a single inch of your flesh was left untouched. You could swear you had even heard him growl as you bucked your hips up erratically. As a reflex, your knees spasmed and you attempted to close your legs. Wrong choice. Terrible accident.
“Keep your fucking legs like that, woman” he rasped out, forcing them back down as he shot you a resentful glare through his lashes.
You whimpered, hands covering your face in dispair as you panted “G–Grimmjow, baby, I’m sorry! It’s too much…” you gingerly whined, only to hear him snort and flick his tongue over your sensitive clit as a delectable form of punishment.
“You better be sorry. Look at you, soaking wet, and trying to rob me of my meal. Stop bitching around” he chided you, making you gawk as your hand reached out to grasp a pillow and you playfully hit him with it over his head.
This was such a natural course of events for you two. Moments of domestic tenderness and play time paired up with steamy activities. Maybe, deep down, you had truly tamed him!
Grimmjow groaned and slapped your folds as a payback, making you regret having chuckled at him and his dumbfounded expression the moment the fluffy pillow had landed on his face. Had you, by any chance, forgotten who was in charge? The audacity of acting like an alpha, when he was supposed to be the one, at least in bed, was surely going too far.
“You little pest, you know what? I’m done tongue-fucking you. On your hands and knees, now” the blue-haired former Espada ordered you, standing back up and unbuckling his belt right before your now rounded eyes.
Oh, well, your little stunts always led to him sheathing himself deep into you and hours spent in sitting down with a certain discomfort. Little did he know you always tried to piss him off to get pinned down like that and, honestly, he did not feel like complaining.
Not when he could mark you down over and over again.
Shinji Hirako.
Your boyfriend and his unhealthy, enervating, obnoxious obsession for doing things in unconventional ways had repercussions on sex too at times. While it was always an enjoyable experience, there were days it could lead you to insanity. Shinji loved to vary. You surely could not say sex with him was static, basic. On the contrary, it was appallingly turbolent. Along with loving to give you oral, Shinji literally put you in every possible position humanly practicable.
Upside down, preferably.
Dangling from the ceiling, ropes meticulously tying your limbs, you whimpered at the feeling of Shinji’s pierced tongue flicking your bundle of nerves. Your body shrieked, jaw going slack as your eyes fluttered closed to enjoy the sensation to its fullest. His sarcastic and infuriatingly childish attitude were reflected by his actions. He was born to tease you, to break you down piece by piece, until you were nothing but a whining mass of sweat and pleas.
“Your hole clenching around nothing is calling me, babe. Can you hear it whisper to me? Atta girl, you’re doing so fuckin’ good for me” your boyfriend crooned, his lips still hovering over your dripping sex, amber eyes drifting down your body until he made eye-contact with you.
Arching your back, a breathy moan ripped from your throat, your movements restricted by the ropes amplifying your perception to the maximum level “Shinji! Baby, please, just … Just add a finger, I can’t do this anymore” you begged him, teary eyes meeting his cunning ones, through your eyelashes.
Honestly, you had lost count of how many times he had brought you close to the edge only to let you down on the verge of your orgasm. He loved watching you bewailing, wiggling around, when all you could do was begging him to just finish you off. It was satisfying, amusing even.
“Damn, this greedy pussy’s so hungry for me. Have you heard her, babe? She wants a finger to fill her up! Fine, fine, I think it’s time to feed her. Brace yourself” Shinji casually chimed them, eyeing you amusedly with his characteristic shit-eating grin plastered over his face.
He was overly sassy, when it came down to you and your presumably pathetic antics. Testing your endurance, your patience, your self-control were delectable activities he loved to involve in your intercourses. His divious ways of unraveling you piece by piece, watching you unfold before his sharp eyes radiated a very much unparalleled sadistic aura you had never seen in anyone else before him.
The moment he glided his finger down your slit, temporizing for a little longer around your opening, before finally burying his finger into you, made you almost sob in need. Eyes squeezed shut, you shrieked, foreteeth sinking onto your lower lip almost causing it to bleed. It was still not enough, you needed more, you needed him.
Your feeble protests did not go unnoticed, though, and your partner was kind of feeling guilty for having edged you for so long. He sighed, ducking his face back down to your heat, darting his tongue out to swirl it over your clitoris. Adding a second finger, he began to scissor them into you at a fast tempo, the silver sphere on his tongue stimulating you in the right spots.
“Shinji! Babe, I’m— Shit!” you cried out in ecstasy, the pleasure coiling on your lower abdomen making it hard for you to stammer out a sensible speech.
Out of your head, breathless, knackered, you arched your spine and the sound of your strained moan eachoed through the walls of your empty flat. Finally, he had let you reach your pined climax. Chin glistening, coated by your juices, Shinji took a step back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
That smug smile of his never ceased to make butterflies flutter in your stomach.
“Your pussy has such ‘a foul mouth’, when I eat her out. Yer should tell her to behave, damn it” he jested, earning a tired eye-roll from your behalf. Asking him to keep his attitude on check was the equivalent of talking to a wall.
“Untie me now, Hikaro Shinji. Or I will be delighted to show you how foul my mouth can really be” you countered back, only for him to snicker and begin to loosen up the ropes restraining your limbs.
After all, you were both far from being done and you were sure as hell not going to let his tantrum slide that easily.
Isshin Kurosaki.
The things this man would do for you go beyond your fervid imagination. He is not a boy, he is a man, husband material to be precise. Isshin knows how to please a woman and, according to him, the best part about giving you pleasure and incommensurable bliss is watching you unfold before his adoring eyes. One thing about him: you are his queen and priority. He would literally neglect his own urges and needs to take care or yours.
“I think I will skip the dessert tonight” Isshin announced, wiping his mouth with a napkin, eying you through his dark eyelashes from the other side of the table.
You knew exactly what he meant by that and you unconsciously found yourself pressing your thighs together under the table.
“You skip the dessert, but maybe you have had too much wine” you teased him back, albeit you played along his goofy game of seduction and shot a coquettish gaze towards him.
Isshin grinned and stood up, stretching his arms over his head, before he circled the table and stopped right next to you. His eyes devoured you, as he dragged your chair along the floor, parting you from the table with ease. He always made you feel as light as a feather, his strength something he was so proud of.
Cocking your head to the side questioningly, you flicked your gaze up to him “What are you up to now?” you inquired, watching the way he dropped to his knees right in front of you. He had insisted for you to wear that dress all day long and now you could finally see why he had been a literal pest.
His hands carefully hiked up the flowy skirt of your dress, his smile widening as you did not hesitate to be collaborative and hold it up in your hands while be settled his hands on each of your rotula, cupping it and pushing your legs apart for him. When he went down on you, Isshin never put you through too much trouble. He specifically asked you to simply enjoy the experience and pull at his hair. He spoiled you, he lavished you.
His hot breath fanning your clothed sex made you suck in a breath and he leisurely tugged the hem of your panties to the side to expose your folds to his longing eyes.
“Hush, baby, let daddy enjoy his well-deserved dessert, alright? I need it so badly, baby. It’s been so long since I did it” he dramatized the situation, eliciting a chuckle from you as his tongue tickled your clit.
“But, daddy, you did it yesterday morning on your desk! – you pointed out, lolling your head back as you securely tangled your fingers between his hair, tugging at them gently – Was it not enough?” you asked him, hips bucking up unintentionally and pulling a husky grunt out of him.
Enough? Of course it was not enough. This man loved nipping, lapping and sucking your pussy dry. He needed to do it, at least, twice a day.
Before his tongue could finally dive into your wet cavern, he knitted his eyebrows together, scoffing “That’s offensive. You left me starving, darling. Let daddy be happy, please, be a good girl” he pleaded you, his mouth leaving a sloppy kiss over your pubes before his tongue made you see stars.
Keeping it low with him was impossible. Either you laughed out loud, or you let out pornographic screams of pleasure hard not to hear down the streets.
Especially, when he left the window open for letting people covet what was rightfully his.
AUTHOR NOTE.
Hello there! I’m so glad I have finally completed this series! Maybe, one day, when my requests will be opened again, I will add other characters too but as for now let’s just enjoy these ones. As per usual, your support means a lot! Thanks for having read this piece and I hope you’ve drawn enough enjoyment to simp for those folks. Likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated! Also, writing for Isshin has been hell on Earth, help🥹
Until next,
x o x o
TAGS: @stygianoir @electronicwitchcollection @brittscafe @kr0wu @kryptoniteforsale
#grimmjow x reader#bleach smut#grimmjow smut#bleach x reader#bleach headcanons#grimmjow x you#grimmjow headcanons#grimmjow jaegerjaquez#bleach isshin#isshin kurosaki#isshin x reader#shinji hirako smut#shinji hirako x reader#shinji x reader#shinji hirako
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One Less Lonely Girl \\ lucy bronze x williamson!reader
Prompt: 21. Reader singing One Less Lonely Girl to _________ on the bus on a long trip from a game to announce their relationship.
Short but sweet one :)
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"You ready mi amor?"
Turning your head, Lucy leans against the doorframe, muscles on full display in the sleeveless England training top.
"Just finished, let's go before we're late"
Zipping up your England suitcase, Lucy offers to take it to the care while you get your backpack. A kiss on the cheek as a thank you and you quickly get your bag. Lucy jogs inside as you settle in your seat for the nearly 2 hour journey to St Georges Park. Jumping out ouf your thoughts, Lucy opens her door and waves around your white and green predators.
"You're a lifesaver, thanks baby"
This time, a peck on Lucy's lips as a thank you before she starts the car. Lucy's left hand never leaving your thigh tells you something's wrong. You look over at your girlfriend of just over a year until she realises you're staring.
"Something's going on in that gorgeous head of yours baby. What's going on?"
Now it was your turn to put a hand on her thigh. The car slows down to stop at the red light and Lucy looks at you with a hint of worry in her eyes.
"I think we should tell the girls. They're starting to catch on"
Lucy looks back to the road and you stay quiet. Lucy keeps looking over at you every few seconds, worried she said something that upset you. You reassure Lucy that it would be good as you wouldn't have to sneak around at camps anymore and your younger sister Leah is going to burst at any second with the year long secret. As you and Lucy talk about both of your upcoming move to Barcelona, you plan a way to tell the girls and fans.
Lucy pulls up to the familiar training centre and there's a few girls waiting out the front, including your sister. Without saying a word, Leah runs over to you and nearly knocks you over with her power. Not seeing each other for a while makes you miss your best friend, even if you are 7 years older.
After reuniting with your sister, you and Lucy greet your close friends as more start to arrive. When everyone arrives, Sarina calls everyone over to the bus and you get in first securing the table at the back. With Lucy behind you, she slips in next to you, holding your hand under the table. You both are joined by Keira, Leah, Millie, Ella, Alessia and Rachel. After many rounds of cards against humanity and Monopoly deal, you all decide to watch a movie. Ella turns on the tv and it was set to a karaoke mode.
"Karaoke anyone?"
Millie questions and the group quickly agree.
You find the mic so ultimately, you go first. You whisper to Millie the song choice and everyone groans at the familiar 2009 hit.
"...if you let me inside your world, there's gonna be one less lonely girl!"
You look at Lucy like she's the love of your life and no one missed it.
Keira looked at Leah.
Millie at Rachel.
Ella at Alessia.
No one could believe it. The two most private people on the team are dating.
"Well that's one way to announce it"
Rachel comments as she turns the next song off. The mic goes back to it's original position and you cuddle up to Lucy as the questions stand rolling in.
The bus pulls up to the hotel and Sarina tells everyone their roommates and thankfully, you and Lucy get paired together. You and Lucy high five while your wall neighbours, Ella and Alessia groan.
"We're all happy for you two but no funny business, I mean it"
Sarina warns you two and you both are confused on how she knows but agree anyway. Lucy gets the keys and you both make your way to the room. You flop on the bed and groan about how comfy it is. You feel Lucy fall next to you and you immediately cuddle up to her.
"How about we break the internet and hard launch?"
Lucy suggests, making you sit up quickly.
"Let's do it"
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liked by leahwilliamson, alexscott, lucybronze, milliebright and 27,841 others
y/n_williamson: my yellow person 💛
view all 9,475 comments...
lucybronze: 🥺😘💛
y/n_williamson: mine 💘
leahwilliamson: i love seeing you happy 😊❤️
y/n_williamson: love you lil sis 🥰
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liked by y/n_williamson, jorgebronze, leahwilliamson, keirawalsh and 38,487 others
lucybronze: soft launch who?
view all 10,645 comments…
y/n_williamson: i love you so much angel 💛
lucybronze: my best girl 💛
keirawalsh: you two make me sick, but I’m glad you’re both happy 🫶
lucybronze: was gonna say…
#lucy bronze x reader#womens soccer#woso soccer#lionesses x reader#woso imagines#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso
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This is a little preview of my new series and yes, bunnies, this is a whole series from me. I hope everyone is ready for an erotic dystopia?
Decadent dystopian erotica with majestic dragons - second teaser for today
Glass House Ateez x reader
Everything changed in an instant.
The king was dead, and thousands of dragons took to the burning skies. The old world was over, and a 'new age' was in the making—an age of gods and monsters.
A thousand years ago, the fires of revolution blazed across the face of the world. Dragons—the creatures of ancient legends and children's fairy tales—reduced the once prosperous world to ashes in a matter of minutes. Rivers of black blood coursed through the veins of the streets, flooding the cities and lands in their wake. The sky was a blaze of purple flames and electric shocks. The church was reduced to rubble, and the royal family was executed in a public display. In the eyes of the dead, the unspoken horror in front of these majestic creatures remained forever, and in the sparks of the flames, they shimmered like precious sea stones.
There was a bitter smell of burning flesh and ash in the air. It was the smell of dreams on fire—the smell of a future in decay.
It was the beginning of the end of ancient life. The beginning of a new world. The Age of Immortality has begun.
All the legends turned out to be true; dragons did exist. They had always lived close to us, lurking in the velvety darkness of the night, waiting for the hour. Waiting for the hour to come when the power would be in their hands. Dangerous, unbridled, wild creatures of magic and the elements, predators at the top of the food chain. They had come into the world to rule, not to obey, and now, at long last, their time had come.
The world was at anarchy. Dragons were killing, raping, and enslaving races and lands as if it were an amusing child's game. They drank blood as black as the night from golden bowls, and they ate our succulent flesh as our bones cracked under the pressure of their razor-sharp teeth. They would hold orgies in the midst of the torn corpses and revel in their omnipotence. Those were the days of darkness. A time of terror, when the very word danger was a synonym for life itself. And so it went for several years, until the ultimate power fell into the clutches of the deadly Children of the Night, the oldest of all dragons.
The majestic Hala.
Eternal as the moon itself and deadly as the uncharted depths of the ocean, they inspired burning terror in all who encountered them. To their people, they were nothing more than a myth, a legend written on fragments of tablets. Forefathers, ancestors—they had hundreds of names, but each one inspired more fear than the last. They were predators among predators, bristling with animal dominance and primal, unbridled sexuality. They exuded power and sinfulness. They were the ones who defined the rules and set the boundaries of what was permissible.
With the arrival of Hala, a new phase in the history of the world began.
Humanity was enslaved, and dragons became the dominant species. As the years went by, the human population began to decline rapidly, with fewer and fewer humans, until "our" species reached the status of gatherers. Angelicus Nova, or Angel Stars, was what we came to be called. Human existence took on a strange religious orientation; we were worshipped, idolized, and adored, but despite all this, humans remained nothing more than a rare exchangeable currency, nothing more than an expensive trinket that was prestigious to own and could be broken with a flick of the wrist.
The human being also became one of the ways in which money flowed endlessly. These institutions were known as "glass houses." Gateway to heaven. They would be the equivalent of strip clubs or luxury escort houses if you and I were in the old world. The rules were the same: "Look, but don't touch." Girls and boys were expensive pieces of family jewelry that rested under the glass of fancy display cases. Our masters showed us off to the greedy eyes of the world with all the pride and ostentation that dragons have.
In spite of their possessive, animalistic nature, dragons were nothing more than swaggering bastards with inflated egos and delusions of grandeur.
Humans could be anything as long as dragons owned us—a muse, an innamorata, a nymph, an angel, a siren, or even a goddess—but like everything else in the universe, we came at a price.
The 'glass houses' were only in operation at night. During the day, all the 'jewels' rested and tidied up after tiring hours of contemplation of the world through the bluish glass of the display window. Nice, obliging workers in starched white collars were busy with the cleaning, scrubbing the baroque decorations of the vetrines with great care from a mixture of sperm, drool, and other secretions. You looked at it with an almost reverent awe, finding it disgusting to the point of bordering on the pornographically beautiful.
You could see it as real art—crude and original, but art nonetheless. There was something particularly mesmerizing about it, almost hypnotic, about the way the thick, pearly sperm dripped slowly from the golden flowers.
Of all the glass houses that ever existed, "Eros" was the most beautiful. It was the jewel in the crown of the New Empire, and you were its goddess. There were rumors that the Hala themselves were customers of 'Eros'. But rumors were only rumors. If they were ever to visit your 'home', you would know about it, for they would be where all men ended up—at your feet.
You were content with the life that you were living. There was no tragedy and no misery, no abusive family or abusive peers, no bullying and harassment at school—no, you had it all great. You were born here at Eros—the growth and blossoming of a beautiful flower. Your whole life has been within the confines of glass rooms and silk sheets, but unlike your dreamy friends, you weren't in need of rescue.
Your name is Aphrodite. Born in the radiance of the Creator. A goddess among goddesses, carved out of marble and mother of pearl. Your hair falls to the ground in waterfalls of pearls and silk. Your eyes are the eerie silvery moonlight in half-darkness, the deadly attraction of jewels in velvet lashes. Your lips are the succulent, juicy, forbidden fruit that every man would like to taste. The pain of your kiss is going to be the last pleasure of life.
You are not a delicate, pure lily; you are not a passionate, fiery rose; you are a narcissus reveling in the crystal of mountain waters. You love yourself to pain, to death, to despair, and in all the New Empire, there was none more beautiful than you.
Original sin. The primordial beauty. You are desire in all it manifests and begins to manifest.
The naked goddess, clad in snow-white fur like armor, is the goddess of love and ecstasy.
You've never been conceptualized; you've always been enigmatic.
You have been the object of worship. Your beauty has been sung in songs, and your love has been professed in a thousand languages. "Eros" was the site of visits from the mightiest and most powerful dragons of the New Empire. They all crawled at your feet, stroking their thick, greased with their cum cocks, greedily as they burned your skin with their golden gaze. They licked the deceptively thin glass of your display case with their long, sometimes split tongues, leaving muddy streaks on the perfect surface of the glass. The mighty and great dragons, unaccustomed to humiliation and submission, urinated like bitches in heat at the mere sight of your bare shoulders and long neck covered with diamond serpents, their eyes shining like stars in the twilight of your silken chambers. They would drip their sperm onto the icy marble floor until it collected in small, glistening puddles, and then they would lick it up as if it were the sweetest nectar in the world. Ambrosia in the truest sense.
Behind the glass walls of Eros, they were dominators, predators, and the rulers of this world through fear and pain, but here in this garden of Eros, they were nothing more than whores—shameless and needy. Slaves to your beauty, desperate to please you.
Their moans are always a delight to you. The moaning of your name.
The scenarios have been repeated to the point of being painful. Sugar-sweet subs with outstretched tongues and pretty, tear-stained faces. Dominant alphas with sweat-glistening skin and eyes rolling with pleasure.
Dragons fucked other dragons; orgies and bacchanals were staged; they were subjugated and subdued. They growled, moaned, squealed, and purred; some were fucked like a port slut, and some were licked for hours until they passed out from hyperstimulation. Some masturbated in front of your window, enjoying the fact that you were there to watch them, and there were others who would spend their heat and ruts in front of your window.
The list could go on and on: bondage, darkphilia, breeding, voyeurism, humiliation, objectification, and breathing games.
You were saturated with this game.
There were so many ways in which you could spend your evenings in the company of others. It was all designed to excite you, to make you beg, and to make you plead. Each of your visitors secretly hoped that one day you would strip off your luxurious furs and assume the position that was right for them—submissive, naked, and ready to accept whatever it was they were giving you.
It was an act of power; it was a position of strength, but here you were the strength. You were power.
No one would ever have the temerity to lay a hand on you. Goddesses are always untouchable.
You entertained yourselves by teasing them, mocking them, and fanning their flames of desire and passion. Dragons are creatures that are very dependent on their emotions and their desires; they feed on their power and their magic, but when they do not get what they want, it burns them from the inside; it breaks and crumbles them, like a cookie that has been bitten.
It was delicious, but you were full. Thank you, next.
You never denied that you were a sadist; you had a taste for pain; maybe it was a kind of revenge for the destruction of your family; maybe not. They came to you for that feeling; the dragons wanted to be punished and tamed, and the feeling of pain made them cum harder. As they say, Orgasm is a little death.
You could play this game for hours on end, letting the fur expose your boobs and pressing it against the cold glass as you went. It was magnificent—tall and plump, as if it had been milked with milk—with pink nipples the color of magnolia blossoms. There was something animalistically seductive about it—an appeal to their natural reproductive instincts—that evil thought of possible pregnancy. Their whimpering made you laugh, and the sounds they made were so sweet—desperate pleas and long, long moans.
"Let me taste you; I want it so much. I was a good boy, such a good boy."
There were other days when you would let your hands run over the bare skin of your thighs, leaving long red streaks that stood in erotic contrast to the silk of your pale skin. You smeared the clear, shimmering liquid of your juices along the line of your neck, in that most exciting place for dragons, where their teeth locked in a mating mark, as if branding their mate in the most perverse of affiliations.
"Tell me I belong to you; please say it. I'll do anything you don't want. Own me, use me; I want to be your toy.".
Sometimes other girls would be brought into your shop window to put on an erotic show. Exquisite nymphs and rosy-cheeked Lolitas would explore your tender skin with their soft, wet tongues, leaving traces of hungry kisses, until at last their lips would close on the most intimate spot between your thighs.
On days like this, the whole of 'Eros' would shake with furious, jealous growls and thunderclaps. Dragons were terrible possessive, and even though the "scene" itself would excite the hell out of them, the jealousy would burn through their veins from the inside out, like a deadly poison.
"You belong to me, and only to me. You are mine, mine and mine alone. I will tear this girl apart, and we will fuck in her blood until there are no more conscious thoughts left in your pretty little head, until you remember nothing but my name.".
But no matter what their words were to you, you didn't have a care in the world. Nobody would dare touch the goddess, and if they tried, they would not only lose their hands but also get killed.
That was the law of the New Empire—all the people who were left were protected and sheltered in an incredible way. There were very few of you, and if there had been any harm to even one of you, it would have been a real tragedy.
Only once has there been a breach of that law, and the consequences have been terrible. No one wants a repeat.
In any case, your life in the Garden of Eros was a pleasure. Maybe it was some kind of perverse way of looking at the world and love, but you didn't have any desire to change anything; everything was great.
Have you ever wondered if there might be another version of you out there? Perhaps, somewhere in a parallel universe, humans would still exist as the dominant species, their countries and cities would be prosperous, and you would be living a different life—a normal one. There, in that other universe, that other Aphrodite—no, not Aphrodite—you would have an ordinary name, not a divine one, something cute, something sweet, and always with a hint of shyness. It is probably there that you would have experienced your first love, that you would dream of a prince who would take you off into the sunset, and that "and they lived happily ever after." You would have been embarrassed to talk about sex, and you would have blushed horribly if his fingers had been in your knickers. But you weren't her. And she wasn't you. You don't want to be saved from sinning; you want to become one of them. You want to experience forbidden pleasures. You want to subjugate and dominate.
You're not in need of a prince; you've already had a king, or rather, eight kings. The day will come when everything you have ever dreamed of will come true, even if you haven't met any of the Hala yet.
You want power; you want to sit on a golden throne in a castle high up in the sky, and so it shall be. They say that love is a great strength, but they fail to mention that it is also the greatest weakness. And you, like no one else, know how to use it to your advantage.
This is not a pink fairy tale. There are no rainbow ponies pooping rainbows and eating fairy dust. No, this is a rotten world. It is full of debauchery, violence, and sex. You could say, "Come and rescue me. I'm waiting for you," but no, you have to rephrase it as "I'm waiting for you to crawl on your knees and lick my heels, and from that moment on, I will own you.".
Yes, that sounds much better.
It's already eight o'clock; time to get ready; you're leaving soon.
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the most famous glass house in the New Empire. Tonight we have wet aesthetic cunnilingus as our main course, and for dessert, a mind-blowing orgasm. You have a choice of starters. Drinks are on the house. We accept cash and checks. If you wish, you can leave a tip for one of our "jewels.".
Our hope is that your time at Eros will be an unforgettable experience.
#ateez smut#kpop smut#ateez x reader#ateez imagines#ateez fanfic#atz smut#smut#seonghwa smut#hongjoong smut#san smut#yunho smut#mingi smut#jongho smut#wooyoung smut#yeosang smut#seonghwa x reader#hongjoong x reader#mingi x reader#san x reader#wooyoung x reader#yunho x reader#jongho x reader#yeosang x reader#ateez unholy hours#park seonghwa smut#ateez fanfiction#ateez scenarios#ateez hard thoughts#ateez hard hours
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sacrifices
Request: "if requests are still open (if not pls ignore) i’ve been obsessed with the idea of astarion being confronted with what tav becomes if he ascends. i picture the gang with raphael, astarion is determined to undergo the ritual, and raphael snaps his fingers to morph their strong leader into a frail, broken version of themselves. afraid of him. can he live with what his decision does to the person he loves, does that knowledge change his mind? could be something completely different tho, i’d love to hear your take on it!"
A/N: I took some creative liberties because I'm still mid-Act 3, but I hope it's up to par nonetheless. I also think I totally misinterpreted the prompt now that I'm re-reading it after finishing this. I'm kinda not very brainy. (sparkle sparkle) I hope you enjoy anyways! lol
Word count: 2,426
Characters: Astarion x Tav
━─━────༺༻────━─━
It was as if every fibre of your being had been desecrated from its vessel within an instance. You suddenly felt the scrutiny of every eye in the room upon you; you felt naked. The strength that had bumbled in every nerve of your body had been silenced. The gravity of the situation you were in towered on slouched shoulders and you gasped at the overwhelming perception. Every position you’d been in since aboard the nautiloid ship assaulted your mind. You hadn’t died, yet the trauma that you could have knocked the air from your lungs. A veil had been lifted from your desensitized mind. You weren’t even through the thick of it, the squirming parasite behind your eye being a palpable reminder. You stared wide-eyed at the group before you, taking note of the uneasy way Shadowheart looked from you to Astarion. You tried to choke out something, anything, but instead, a terrified whimper left your lips.
The imbalance of authority was instantly discernable. Formerly the most capable of them all reduced to a powerless husk. Astarion stares at you warily, stepping closer only for you to cower backward, all but tripping over your own feet. “Please.” You pleaded against your better judgment. You were attentive to the knowledge he would never hurt you, but there was something profound in your brain telling you to run. He was a predator and you his prey. Perhaps the security of knowing you could always defend yourself if it came down to that was always there. Without the power, without those means, you indeed were afraid.
Realization washes over Astarion’s face as he looks at you. The tension in the room was so impenetrable that Shadowheart spoke up hesitantly. “Give her some space.” No matter how sympathetic her words are, when she touches Astarion’s arm to give him a gentle tug back, he rips his extremity from her grasp. “Astarion.” She says firmly, looking at you with sad eyes. It was unspoken; if this was what you were to be, you’d never make it.
“Fix her, devil.” He sneers, disregarding Shadowheart to the best of his ability. Raphael chortles, a playful glint in his eye. This was all a game to him.
“So sad, wouldn’t you agree?” Raphael muses apathetically, moving to fiddle with the ends of your hair. Your body tenses and you want to run, but you’re frozen in place by fear. “At the end of the day, we are ultimately what our bodies perceive us to be. As for Tav, it would seem she’s not the leader you lot took her for after all. A travesty really.” His eyes lock on Astarion, a giddy smile on his face at the vampire’s anger. It oozed off of him, feeding Raphael sadistic joy.
“You will not touch her Raphael-” Before he knew what had happened, he was laid out across the floor by a flick of the devil’s hand. Despite the aching in his bones, he pushes himself back up onto his feet, ready to pounce once again. Raphael already has his hand raised, ready to knock Astarion back once again.
This time it’s Karlach’s hand that grabs him, holding him firmly in place. “Astarion, this won’t solve anything.”
“By the hells it won’t! So that’s it? You want to abandon her here? After all she’s done for all of us? You ungrateful bastards! She’s stuck her neck out for each one of us and you turn on her just like that? Pathetic.” Astarions spits, his body shaking from the rage bubbling within himself.
“Of course not! We love her just as much as you, but charging nonsensically at a devil whom we cannot touch over and over again won’t fix it.” Karlach exclaims and, perhaps because it was the most emotionally driven of the group to speak up, Astarion’s body loosens in defeat. Karlach withdraws her hand cautiously.
“As much entertainment as I’m getting from watching this debacle, I believe we’re done here for now. I trust you’ll discuss this with your little wizard friend and let him know the crown is mine and I expect to receive it as soon as it is in your possession. Upon payment, I’ll restore our precious Tav’s previous state of being. I’m glad we’re all on the same page.” Raphael sends the group off with a snap of his fingers. The spinning surroundings bring you to your knees and you squeeze your eyes shut in a failed attempt to block out the sensation. Once you open your eyes, the group is back in the rented room of Elfsong.
A combination of the intense whirring, of everyone’s eyes on you, of your power being ripped from your body; you wretch. Your body heaves as the nausea finally subsides, Astarion is by your side, rubbing circles over your back and holding your hair loosely in his hand. Karlach has already fetched a fresh bucket of water and a stack of rags to clean the mess. Halsin, Jaheira, Wyll, Lae’Zel, and Gale look on in confusion, and you note Shadowheart gathering them together. Her voice was whispered and you couldn’t make out what was being said, but you didn’t have to be a scholar to know she was filling them in on the events that had transpired. Even Mizora was amongst them as if she was one of the same.
The sight makes you want to wretch again but you hold back, gently pushing Astarion’s hands away from you. Your heart aches at the hurt look on his face but you just couldn’t. The power imbalance was too significant for you to handle in the moment; around any of your comrades, to be fair. However, there was something about Astarion that terrified you now. You knew it was senseless, but it couldn't be helped. “I need to be alone right now.” You manage from your raw throat. You did need to be alone; as alone as you possibly could be in the large room with nine other occupants.
Karlach was one of the only people you allowed to stay with you as you lay in a daze on your bed. She was toweling a damp cloth over your forehead, chattering as usual. You recognized she was trying to act normal as if you hadn’t just had everything you’d ever known mangled from your very essence. You appreciated it. It was a far cry from the remainder of the party, now not bothering to hide what they were discussing as they tried to formulate next steps in the center of the room. You’d wished they wouldn’t, as selfish as it was. Though it seemed you were of some semblance of sound mind because you refrained from asking them to shut it down. They had to go on; with or without you. Astarion watched on in disgust from a corner of the room.
Seeing you like this was destroying him, eating at his soul. He felt a fierce desire to protect you in this state, to keep you safe, yet you wouldn’t even let him near you. You were the only person who hadn’t treated him like something disposable in almost two centuries of existence. He feared that was gone. Would things get better? He yearned to hold you, to tell you everything would be okay. He hadn’t seen fear in someone’s eyes even comparable to yours since he was still a mindless slave to Cazador. Knowing that you felt that way about him struck him viscerally. He felt greedy for thinking it, but even if you didn’t become the fearless Tav you once were, he’d hoped you would eventually gain that trust with him again. Whatever the outcome, he would do what needed to be done to protect you.
“I’m sorry but suggesting we just hand over Karsus Crown to a literal devil is insane! Have you lost your senses?” Gale shouted with conviction, throwing his hands up wildly.
“Gale. What choice do we have? Tav has been a friend and she’d do the same for any one of us. We know what must be done.” Halsin reasons calmly in an attempt to ease the distressed wizard.
“Well, I would bloody hope not!” Gale snaps in astonishment. “This is ludicrous!”
Mizora pipes up and there is an air of amusement in her statement, “The bumbling one is correct. Raphael promises peace to the Nine Hells, but it is only a matter of time before he takes on other conquests. If you’d prefer the hells turn over; by all means.”
“Come on! The lot of you have forced me into agreeance with a fiend.” Gale mutters.
“A battle he will surely lose. Circumstantially, there’s no way the crown is powerful enough to intercept our plane.” Shadowheart reasons.
“Shadowheart, I have a great amount of respect for you, my friend. But you’ve no idea what you're talking about.” Gale holds a hand up dramatically in her direction.
“She has a point.” Wyll finally offers his own input. “If our plane of existence could be overturned with the simple possession of this crown, it would have been done already, wouldn’t it? And if Raphael only wants to restore order in the hells, why not?”
“All it would take is the correct entity. Just because something has not been done, does not mean it will never be done.” Gale sighs and there is a brief bought of silence before he continues. “Listen, Tav means just as much to me. It would pain me not to have her fight alongside us again, but-”
“Careful Gale of Waterdeep.” Astarion jeers as he approaches the group. “It would be a pity if someone had to put you in your place, but I can’t say I wouldn’t enjoy it. At this point, I’d think it a service to the rest of us.”
“Gale is right.” You declare. The group had been so engaged in conversation that they had failed to notice your approach. “I admire the lengths you guys would go to restore my power and I cherish each and every last one of you.” You shoot a small smile of reassurance at Gale, indicating that you indeed meant him too. “That being said, I recognize the need for boundaries. If this is the end of my road, well, I take pride in knowing I had the opportunity to assist our victors to the finish line.” You attempt a laugh, but it just sounds sad. You clear your throat. “Raphael cannot come into possession of this crown. I hope you all can respect my wishes.”
Astarion wants to shake you, to tell you how foolish you were being. Had you really lost all of your senses when Raphael had stripped you of your power? “You will die, Tav. Do you not understand that? Without the means to protect yourself, you will die!” His shouting caused you to flinch and he instantly regretted it. The group sat in a paralyzed silence as they watched you two, not daring to interrupt Astarion in this state. “I will not lose the first thing I’ve loved in over two hundred years.” Tears threatened his ruby-red eyes, and he fought them back, suddenly very aware of how vulnerable he’d made himself amongst the party.
“I know, Star.” You finally choke out after a lull of silence. You look away from him quickly and Karlach ushers you back to your bed. Astarion looks around the group with narrowed eyes as they disband to make their way to their collective beds. Why wasn’t anyone arguing this? How could they be so comfortable sentencing you to your death?
Astarion stared up at the ceiling of the inn that night, unable to slip into his meditative state. Instead, he tried to grasp at the idea of you simply not existing—the months you had spent together that had felt like the entirety of his life left to mean nothing. It was tragic, just like the rest of his life. Of course someone like him couldn’t have a simple, happy ending. Why wouldn’t the very thing that kept him going be destined for death?
His eyes open at the sound of approaching footsteps and your distinctive scent welcomingly floods his senses. He looks over to see you approaching his bed timidly as if you were uncertain about the action. “I don't,” you paused, fumbling with the hem of your shirt. “I don’t think I can sleep without you, Star.” You two hadn’t spent a night in separate beds since he had confessed his true feelings for you. The admission made his heart swell with hope and he shifts wordlessly, making room for you on the small bed beside him. He holds open the blanket for you, and you climb in.
He hears your heart slowing to a calm pace. The emotions were too overwhelming for you to comprehend. You had a newfound fear of the vampire, but your body craved his. Not just sexually, but it longed to be near him. It was as if it needed him to function properly. Astarion felt it too. It was like a missing piece of himself had returned to him, even if this moment was fleeting; he would hold you for as long as you let him, and he would wait for you to return when you were ready.
There was one thing he was sure of. If you met your demise, so would Astarion. The time of only seeking power and authority was over for him. If he could, he would lay in this bed with you until you both withered to nothing. He did not want to outlive you in any sense of the word. He made a silent vow always to protect and keep you alive along with him. It was implicitly clear what he would be doing. The ascension had to be done, if only so you could live to see this through. The power and glory not even a last thought in his decision. He’d do this for you—the many conversations the two of you shared about the ritual flitted through his mind. You’d always been so careful of his wants while expressing apprehension about him going through with it. You’d convinced him, too. He was set that it was not what he wanted. He had been blinded by the splendor of it all. Things were different now. You would no longer be able to keep yourself alive; but he could.
“I love you, Tav.” He whispers.
“I love you, too, Star. More than air.” You murmured into his chest.
#astarion x reader#astarion x tav#astarion#bg3#x reader#ascended astarion#ascended!astarion x reader#ascended!astarion x tav#tav#reader
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Hi, so, I'd like to request a one shot with Billy and Stu x Reader who looks cute and innocent, she can even trick them into thinking she's a sweet lamb, they are kinda friends? Like, the boys like to hang around her house, since she's almost always alone, and they watch horror movies together and all, Billy being creepy as always and Stu weirdly cute. Anyways, she looks so sweet and innocent, but, in reality, she has some dark thoughts and when a guy from school treats her bad or something like that (I'm think of her bing like a hidden Pearl) she kills him, but no one knows, after that she starts to go into a killing spree and the boys get worried she'll be a victim of this new killer, until they catch her killing, being stained with blood. I'd love if you could write it, so thanks ❤️ (English is not my first language, so sorry for any grammar error)
Oh no this was perfect so even if English isn’t your first language I got what you had in mind
↳ devil in disguise ↲
✭ pairing : billy loomis x reader x stu macher
✭ fandom : scream
✭ summary : billy loomis and stu macher befriend the new girl, there something about the innocence in her that has them wanting to keep her close, but what they don’t know is that underneath all that innocence is a psycho killer watching and building up.
✭ authors note : this will be pretty fucking long let’s be honest but I hope you enjoy :)
Appearances can be deceiving, a truth that resonates throughout the intricate tapestry of human nature. In the complex dance of life, the most innocent of individuals often harbor the potential for both light and darkness, a duality that echoes the very essence of existence.
Beneath the gentle facade of a kind smile, the spark of laughter, or the softness of a touch, lies a spectrum of emotions and desires that can lead down paths both virtuous and treacherous. Each person is a canvas painted with shades of morality, their choices a brushstroke that can create beauty or chaos, depending on the journey they choose to undertake.
The predator lurking within, the shadow of primal instincts, is a reminder that human beings are products of evolution, shaped by eons of survival instincts and genetic predispositions. In the heart of every individual, there exists a part that craves power, control, or fulfillment, a yearning that can manifest as ambition, passion, or even obsession.
Yet, it is important to recognize that the coexistence of light and darkness within us is not inherently sinister. It is a reflection of the human experience, a reminder that every choice is a crossroads, offering the potential for change, growth, and transformation. The predator within can propel us forward, driving us to achieve our goals, protect our loved ones, and forge our destinies.
In a world where appearances often mask the intricacies of the human soul, it becomes crucial to acknowledge the duality that resides within each of us. By embracing both our capacity for kindness and our susceptibility to darker urges, we gain a deeper understanding of ourselves and those around us. The predator lurking within can serve as a cautionary tale, a reminder of the importance of self-awareness, empathy, and the conscious choice to channel our instincts toward the betterment of ourselves and society.
Ultimately, the dichotomy of light and darkness within us mirrors the complexity of the world we inhabit. It is a testament to the richness of the human experience, the endless potential for growth, and the ever-present opportunity to shape our narratives, whether we tread the path of the predator or harness the power of our inner light.
The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting its golden rays over the idyllic small town of Woodsboro. In the heart of the town, the high school's courtyard was a hub of activity, a place where friendships were forged and teenage dramas played out against the backdrop of lockers and laughter.
Stu Macher and Billy Loomis, the quintessential charismatic duo, leaned casually against the fountain. Their respective girlfriends, Tatum Riley and Sidney Prescott, stood nearby, laughter and conversations weaving a tapestry of youthful energy.
"Hey, ladies," Stu greeted with a grin, his bleached-blond hair catching the sunlight.
Billy's dark eyes sparkled as he echoed the sentiment, "Looking good as always."
As the quartet exchanged banter and shared glances, a figure caught their attention. Randy Meeks, known for his encyclopedic knowledge of horror movies and his perpetual enthusiasm, approached with a wide grin that stretched from ear to ear. At his side was a girl who looked almost ethereal—a new face in a town where everyone knew everyone else.
"(Y/N), meet the gang," Randy said with exuberance, presenting the girl to the group.
(Y/N) stood shyly, her presence an aura of innocence and warmth. Her eyes were like open books, wide and filled with curiosity as she took in her surroundings. A white dress, loose yet gracefully hugging her figure, accentuated her delicate beauty. The boys, Billy and Stu, exchanged glances that spoke volumes—here was someone who radiated innocence and gentleness.
"Hey, (Y/N)," Tatum greeted with a friendly smile, extending a welcoming hand.
Sidney's eyes held a soft kindness as she added, "Nice to meet you."
"(Y/N)," Stu's voice was friendly, his grin never faltering.
But it was Billy who couldn't tear his gaze away. In his eyes, (Y/N) appeared as if she could do no wrong—a portrait of purity in a world where darkness often lurked. Her eyes reminded him of Bambi's, wide and open, untouched by the harsh realities of life.
"Hi," (Y/N) responded, her voice soft and sweet, as if her words were a whisper carried by the wind.
As the introductions and pleasantries continued, a sense of intrigue filled the air. The new girl was like a breath of fresh air, and the boys found themselves captivated by her presence. Billy's heart stirred, his curiosity piqued by the enigma that was (Y/N).
As the days stretched into a week, the dynamic between Billy, Stu, and (Y/N) began to evolve. To the casual observer, it seemed like the boys were constantly bothering her, popping up unexpectedly and causing her to jump with exaggerated "scares." (Y/N)'s jumpy nature only seemed to fuel their amusement, and they reveled in the opportunity to tease her.
"(Y/N), you really need to work on your reflexes," Stu teased, a wide grin playing on his lips.
Billy joined in, smirking, "Yeah, seriously, what are you so jumpy about?"
Inside, however, their thoughts took on a darker undertone. Each little expression that flickered across (Y/N)'s face was dissected in their minds, and they toyed with the idea of involving her in their sinister games. But deep down, they couldn't shake the notion that she was different, that her innocence was genuine, and that she deserved more than the fate they had planned for their victims.
One night, as they lounged around in Stu's living room, the topic of their potential victims came up, their voices hushed as they spoke of Ghostface's next target.
"You know, man, I've been thinking," Stu mused, his tone contemplative.
Billy's eyes met Stu's, curiosity gleaming within them. "About what?"
"(Y/N)," Stu replied, his voice surprisingly serious. "I mean, yeah, we've joked about her being our next victim, but... I don't know, there's something different about her."
Billy's brows furrowed in thought, his expression mirroring Stu's. "Yeah, I've been thinking the same thing. Her innocence... it's real, isn't it? I mean, it can't be faked."
Stu nodded, a somberness settling over them. "She's the only one in this school who doesn't put on a facade. I mean, just look at her. She's not trying to impress anyone or play games. She's just... herself."
As the two friends contemplated (Y/N)'s genuine nature, a decision began to crystallize within them. The idea of involving her in their deadly plans felt wrong, as if they were tainting something pure. The darkness within them seemed to clash with the light that (Y/N) exuded.
"Maybe she's the exception," Billy mused. "Maybe she deserves something better than what we had planned."
Stu's gaze was resolute. "I agree. We can't touch her. She's... untouchable."
And so, in the midst of their twisted games and hidden motives, (Y/N) emerged as a beacon of authenticity, a figure they couldn't bring themselves to tarnish. Their dark thoughts and desires were held at bay, overruled by the recognition that some innocence was too pure to be tainted.
As the days continued to unfold, the bond between Billy, Stu, and (Y/N) deepened, shaped by unspoken understanding and the realization that appearances could indeed be deceiving. In the shadows of their minds, they grappled with their own darkness while protecting the fragile light that (Y/N) represented—an innocence they couldn't bring themselves to shatter, even in the midst of their sinister games.
The bond between Billy, Stu, and (Y/N) deepened with every passing day, an unspoken connection that drew them together. As the days grew longer, they found themselves gravitating toward her house, seeking her company whenever they could. They had adopted a role of self-proclaimed bodyguards, protecting her from a danger she didn't even know was real.
"(Y/N), you seriously need to upgrade your horror movie tolerance," Stu laughed one evening, sprawled on the couch as a horror movie played on the TV screen.
"Yeah, seriously," Billy chimed in from the armchair, his eyes fixed on (Y/N) with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.
Despite her jumping at some of the movie's more intense scenes, (Y/N) laughed, trying to play it off. "Hey, don't judge me. I'm just not used to all this scary stuff."
Stu grinned, an idea forming in his mind. "You know what would be fun? A horror movie marathon. We'll toughen you up."
Billy's eyes gleamed with a sinister amusement, his gaze lingering on (Y/N) as he added, "Yeah, that's a good idea. Get you ready for the real thing."
Unbeknownst to (Y/N), their intentions were far from innocent. In their twisted minds, they envisioned her as the ultimate victim—the damsel in distress they could play out their darkest fantasies with. Billy's creepy stares and Stu's vivid imagination blended seamlessly with their supposed role as protectors.
As the marathon continued, (Y/N) did her best to keep her composure, laughing off her jumps and enjoying the company of her friends. She glanced at Billy and Stu, both absorbed in the movie, their expressions revealing something she couldn't quite put her finger on.
"Hey, you guys aren't actually planning to scare me for real, are you?" (Y/N) quipped, a playful glint in her eye.
Billy's lips curled into a charming smile, masking his true thoughts. "Of course not, (Y/N). We're your protectors, remember?"
Stu's grin was genuine, his gaze softening as he added, "Yeah, we're not gonna let anything happen to you."
Despite the odd tension in the room, (Y/N) felt a genuine warmth emanating from them. The camaraderie they shared was precious to her, and their presence was a comfort amidst the backdrop of uncertainty.
As the days turned into weeks, (Y/N)'s interactions with Billy and Stu continued to deepen, their friendship a blend of innocence and darkness that seemed to mirror her own conflicted thoughts. Beneath her sweet exterior, a hidden pearl of darkness lay dormant, waiting for the right catalyst to awaken it.
One day, after school, (Y/N) found herself crossing paths with a guy from school who had treated her with disdain. His words had been sharp, his actions cruel, leaving a lingering bitterness within her. As she walked away, her fists clenched and her thoughts turned dark. Anger simmered beneath her surface, and a newfound resolve began to take hold.
That night, the moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the town. (Y/N) moved with a determination that belied her innocent appearance. Her actions were swift, her thoughts cold and calculated as she carried out a plan that would forever change the course of events.
The next day, news of the guy's death spread like wildfire. Whispers of foul play and shock resonated through the school corridors. Nobody suspected the innocent new girl, the one with wide eyes and a demeanor that seemed incapable of harm.
As the days turned into weeks, the incident faded into the background, but (Y/N)'s newfound darkness lingered within her. She grappled with the conflicting emotions that surged within, a duality that remained hidden from the world.
Billy and Stu watched from the shadows, unaware of (Y/N)'s secret but sensing a shift in her. They continued their roles as her protectors, the twisted bond between them growing stronger. Little did they know, they were not the only ones harboring darkness.
The trio continued to spend time together, their connection both genuine and unsettling. (Y/N)'s thoughts were a storm of conflicting desires, her actions a reflection of the hidden Pearl within her—a darkness that had tasted blood and now hungered for more.
In a town where appearances were often deceiving, (Y/N) navigated the delicate balance between innocence and darkness. The lines between right and wrong blurred as her hidden thoughts and actions remained shrouded in secrecy, while the world continued to see only the sweet, innocent new girl who could do no harm.
As (Y/N)'s dark inclinations grew, so did the trail of bodies left in her wake. The once-hidden pearl of darkness had been fully awoken, and her actions took on a chilling rhythm. Each victim was carefully chosen, their lives extinguished with a methodical precision that sent shivers down her own spine.
Billy and Stu, the twisted duo who had unknowingly played a role in (Y/N)'s descent into darkness, began to notice the change in her demeanor. Their concern grew as they realized that the one they had deemed untouchable was now capable of unspeakable acts. The irony was not lost on them—the protectors were now the ones who feared for her safety.
"(Y/N), are you okay?" Billy's voice held a note of unease as he approached her one afternoon.
She smiled sweetly, her eyes glinting with a hidden intensity. "Of course, Billy. I'm fine."
Stu's eyes were sharp as he added, "You seem... different lately."
(Y/N)'s laughter was almost melodic, a stark contrast to the darkness that seemed to dance within her eyes. "Oh, just exploring new aspects of myself."
As the bodies continued to pile up, news of the new killer on the loose spread throughout the town. Fear and paranoia took hold, and Billy and Stu's concern for (Y/N) grew exponentially. They watched her closely, trying to discern the truth behind her smiles and the shifting shades within her gaze.
One evening, as they gathered at Stu's house, the topic of the killer came up once again. "(Y/N), have you heard about this new killer?" Stu asked, his tone casual.
She feigned innocence, her voice dripping with sweetness. "Oh, I've heard. It's terrible what's happening."
Billy's voice was strained as he pressed, "You haven't seen anything suspicious, have you?"
She met their gaze, her eyes a storm of hidden secrets. "Oh, nothing suspicious. Just a town gripped by fear."
The tension in the room was palpable, a silent recognition passing between them that (Y/N)'s dark thoughts were far more than they could have imagined. In their quest for power and control, they had inadvertently unleashed a force they couldn't fully comprehend.
As the days turned into nights, the town continued to reel from the new killer's actions. While the trail of bodies grew, (Y/N) remained a step ahead, her innocence a perfect mask for her true nature.
Billy and Stu's worry for her safety intensified, their twisted roles as protectors becoming a desperate attempt to shield her from a danger they were unaware she posed herself. In a chilling dance of fate, the lines between predator and prey blurred as (Y/N) navigated her dark path, leaving those around her to grapple with the realization that appearances could indeed be deceiving.
The tension in the air was thick as the night sky hung like a heavy curtain over the town. Billy and Stu's concern for (Y/N) had reached a fever pitch, each body that dropped heightening their anxiety. Their roles as protectors had been twisted beyond recognition, their concern evolving into a fear they dared not admit.
In the midst of their own murderous pursuits, the two boys stumbled upon a sight that shattered their perceptions. Moonlight cast an eerie glow on the scene before them—their sweet, innocent friend standing amidst the remnants of a fresh kill, her hands stained with blood.
Frozen in their tracks, Billy and Stu stared at (Y/N), their breath catching in their throats. A palpable tension hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the darkness that now bound them all together.
Stu was the first to break the silence, his voice a mixture of confusion and desperation. "What... What the hell, (Y/N)?"
(Y/N)'s gaze remained steady, her eyes holding a mix of defiance and something deeper, something that Billy and Stu struggled to grasp.
"Billy, Stu," she said softly, her voice carrying a weight that belied her innocent exterior. "I know you've been worried about me. But you don't need to be. I've always known what I am."
Billy's voice trembled as he managed to speak, but it wasn’t from fear. No, it was something else he was feeling his heart pounding in his chest. "What are you talking about, (Y/N)?"
A knowing smile tugged at the corners of (Y/N)'s lips, her eyes glinting with a chilling clarity. "Predators and prey, Billy. It's the natural order of things. Carnivores feed on herbivores. But there are also omnivores—predators that feed on both."
Stu's confusion was etched across his face as he demanded, "What does that have to do with anything?"
(Y/N)'s gaze turned piercing as she took a step forward, her presence exuding an aura of both danger and inevitability. "I'm an omnivore, Stu. A predator that feeds on everyone and everything. It's just the way I am."
The stand-off continued, a twisted tableau of secrets, revelations, and darkness. The boundaries between their roles as predators and protectors had blurred, leaving them all to confront a reality they had never anticipated.
Stu's hand trembled as he reached up and pulled off his Ghostface mask, his expression a mix of vulnerability and confusion. "Why, (Y/N)? Why are you doing this?"
(Y/N)'s smile was haunting, her words carrying the weight of centuries of history. "Because, Stu, it's survival of the fittest. The world is full of predators and prey, and I've chosen to be a predator."
Billy's fingers gently grazed (Y/N)'s cheek, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. His eyes were filled with mischief as he moved her hair to the side, tucking it behind her ear. With a smirk playing on his lips, he leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You enjoy that, don't you?" he said, his words dripping with anticipation. "The thrill of killing."
(Y/N) stared up at him, her Bambi-like eyes wide with a mixture of fear and excitement. She nodded slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. It was a dark secret she had kept hidden from the world, a part of herself she had never fully embraced until now.
Stu, having observed the exchange, stepped forward after a moment of contemplation. He moved silently, his presence sending shivers down (Y/N)'s spine. As he stood behind her, his body pressed against hers, an unexpected warmth spread through her veins.
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. The embrace was both comforting and electrifying, a mix of tenderness and danger. (Y/N) found herself leaning into him, her breath catching as she surrendered to the darkness within.
Together, the trio began to explore the depths of their twisted desires. A newfound bond formed, fueled by their shared secrets and the thrill of the unknown. They reveled in the chaos they created, leaving a trail of darkness in their wake.
As the nights grew longer and their actions more audacious, (Y/N) realized she had found her true family. In Billy and Stu, she had discovered kindred spirits who understood her in ways no one else ever could.
Their connection went beyond the realm of friendship. It was a dark and wicked love, forged in blood and mayhem. They would stand together, united in their pursuit of chaos, forever entangled in each other's embrace.
And so, (Y/N) embraced her dark side fully, relishing in the exhilaration of the hunt, and finding solace in the arms of those who shared her twisted desires.
#x reader#x reader oneshot#x reader one shot#x reader requests#scream x reader#scream x yn#scream imagine#scream#scream imagines#scream x you#ghostface x you#ghostface imagine#ghostface imagines#ghostface x reader#poly ghostface#poly ghostface x reader#stu macher x you#billy loomis x reader#stu macher x reader#billy loomis x you#billy loomis imagine#billy loomis imagines#billy loomis x y/n#billy loomis x stu macher x reader#stu macher x y/n#slashers x reader#slashers masterlist
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crimson staining the cement
i needed to get this out of my system before i sleep ... i have so many thoughts of a very in love but obsessed/possessive miguel who is just too jealous and overprotective but is still a sweetheart.
im still taking requests so please do feed my imagination
gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara drabble
warnings: depictions of violence, poessiveness, overprotection in the term of obsession. jealousy. blood, biting. definitely something i haven't wrote about a lot.
Miguel knew that underneath his constant need for your affection and reassurance, he was a jealous, jealous man.
Beyond his stoic expression conveyed to anyone other than you, the moment another individual other than him made advances towards you his jaw would tense and his talons instinctively unsheathe into his palms. His mind blanks at the idea of someone invading the space that only he is allowed to occupy.
It's not like he feels as if he owns you, his anxiety and worries stem from feeling as if you are too out of reach for him, on a whole different dimension because you were human and lively, everything he was not. Miguel O'Hara, a shell of who he was once before, viewed himself as something grossly supernatural and devoid. In his mind, your companionship was a necessity for him to live. He's never felt more alive than with you, and now that he's had a taste of what he's been missing he can't seem to detach his fangs from you, his prey caught by the neck.
So when he's pushing his way through a crowd of scientific elitists and spots some prick practically hovering over you with a sneer, an absolutely primal rage floods his vision and the only thing he can think about is you and ripping the rich pervert limb from limb. And Miguel truly was contemplating the idea until your anxious scouting finally pinpointed him, in which he assumed you excused yourself with haste because of how quickly you departed from the prick before pushing through the crowd to reach his embrace.
Miguel hated settings such as this, being dragged to go to social gatherings due to his position at his job, but the only reason he dragged himself to come was because of you. You urged him to try and do the things he hated, pressed him to experience new things. And he allowed it, with the only condition that you had to be strung along with. With a smile, you always more than happily agreed.
Yet everytime the two of you arrived at a fancy getup, someone stupid enough to bother you had to interrupt your happiness. Which ultimately ruined his contentment.
Miguel was never mad at you, could never bring himself to hurt you unless it was the marks he made with loving bites and harsh kisses.
But he was not below hurting someone to make a statement. And when someone got hurt, they had to be silenced because then they knew too much.
It never bothered Miguel much to dispose of those who hurt you, who sunk their blunt nails into your flesh and made you nauseated from their unwanted creepy flattery. He was just doing what he needed to do, protecting his responsibility. Get rid of the problem, no?
As his fists met the sickening crunch of cartilage and bone, the street lights painted his figure into a canvas filled with glistening crimson. It was a gruesome masterpiece, he thought. Like a spider trapping a fly, poking its tendrils against its food like a toy.
When his instincts overdrive his rationality, he doesn't think of himself as Miguel O'Hara anymore. He was simply the predator that crafted his genetics, the spider that altered his being.
The tear of skin as talons claw into the marred flesh of another elitist scum, who just hours before had the audacity to belittle what you wore in Miguel's earshot, calling you unsavory things such as a "whore, or slut." He had been itching all night to get his hands on the pathetic lump of a man, yet when his red-clouded gaze fell upon the mess against his crisp, standard black suit vest tailored around a white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows.
Wiping the blood splatter off his cheek with a swipe of his arm, Miguel spat on what was left of the man who viewed you, and probably many others, as an object of desire and nothing more. It made him sick.
He'd clean up before arriving to your flat, a place where he found himself most comfortable within. Without you, his own home felt frigid. A mirror of who he was, which he hated the idea of being alone in.
So when you felt your boyfriend's arms wrap around your hips in the softness of your duvet, you were blissfully unaware of just what he was doing earlier that night. His fangs sunk into your unexposed shoulder, a purr vibrating against the bite as fuzziness soothed his haunting thoughts.
It was common for him to sink his teeth into you as a form of relief after long days, your body growing used to the intrusion.
"Love you so much, my darling." You murmured into your pillow, mind foggy with sleep as he unlatched himself from you just to bury himself in your chest. His nails scratched your back, tracing stars and circles mindlessly as he purred.
"Love you so much more, mi vida." His grip on you tightened subtly, "would do anything for you and more."
You simply giggled in response to his declaration, calling him a big teddy bear, before brushing your fingers in his soft curls. Giving him a sweet peck on his lips and one last lingering kiss to the nose, the two of you drifted to sleep with nothing on your mind but one another.
#miguel o'hara#into the spider verse#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara x reader#spiderman 2099#x gender neutral reader#x reader
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｡⋆ʚ♡ a bitch meant for breeding
›› nsfw 18+ jjk oneshot!
art by the amazing @g00miato !!!!!!! literally my fave artist (uncensored is on her twitter and it's wowza holy moly)
FULL SPICY UNCENSORED VER IS ON @g00miato twitter! i am BEGGING u to look!!!
ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ
›› zenin naoya x y/n
›› 18+ f!reader
›› wc: 3,207
‹𝟹 summary: you’re naoya’s wife, and he’s determined to treat you like the pet he believes you are. he takes your sex life up a notch, showing you how he really feels about you:3
‹𝟹 fandom: jjk, jujutsu kaisen
‹𝟹 genres / warnings: petplay, assault / impact play
‹𝟹 tags: au- no powers, spit kink, spitting, breeding, degradation, name calling, pet play, puppy play, light praise, slapping, spanking, choking, rough sex, misogyny, owner / pet dynamic, leash + collar, naoya has a big dick, light biting, light blood, cum swallowing, rough fingering, finger fucking, orgasm denial + delay, throat fucking, mating press, doggy style, missionary
‹𝟹 notes: typically i see naoya more as someone to be subby (bc i wanna put him in his place). but one of my fave artists posted the pic above + the uncensored one, and i went fkn FERAL. like i would be naoya’s dog frfr. i wanna be his pet frfr. this is completely self-indulgent and pure smut. enjoy the ride:3 i made naoya a bit mean, but ultimately i made him a lil nice at the end. my fic and i want nice naoya rn >:(((( (even tho we all know hes a certified misogynist lolol)
!! - again, PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING - !!
! - ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ - !
The Zenin clan was known for its harsh treatment towards the women of the clan. They don’t allow them to educate themselves and they are forced in domestic roles and used to make children. While it gives the woman’s family a good reputation to marry into the Zenin clan, her life usually got worse as a result.
Marrying Naoya Zenin was no exception to this rule; if anything, it was actually worse in comparison. As much as Naoya makes your blood boil, he makes your pussy drip even more. You can’t stand to be around him. His personality is insufferable and he’s a misogynistic asshole, just like everyone else in this hellscape of a family. And despite this, he knows exactly how to pleasure you in ways you never thought you’d be into.
It started out as normal, vanilla sex even before you two were officially married. He never tried anything too crazy, just using your body like he owned you, but never taking it anywhere. Over time, you put up less resistance when he told you to do things for him. While it pissed you off sometimes to be his basically his servant, he always rewarded you in the end and you couldn’t deny how amazing it was every time.
One night, after he had been out late drinking with buddies, he comes home with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. You greet him at the door, taking care of his coat and belongings. He’s looking at you like a predator. He scoops you up, trailing kisses from your chin to your lips. Naoya bites your bottom lip slightly, drawing a hint of blood as he pushes his tongue into your mouth, meeting yours. He’s tasting every part of your mouth as he carries you to your room.
Despite his drunkenness, his coordination when tossing you onto the bed was surprisingly swift. He pushed you against the bed with such animosity it was like something had possessed him. He starts nipping at your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and spit along your jawline before meeting your lips once more. He twirled his tongue around yours, sucking every part he could. He pulled his lips away from yours, a string of spit connecting you two. “Open,” he commanded. And you did just that. You opened your mouth as he spit into it, telling you to swallow it after.
He watched with satisfaction at your instant submission. You were like his pet. And he wanted you to know that. He kissed you once more before pulling apart and walking over to a drawer, opening it and pulling out a leash and a collar. You were only slightly able to make out his figure, his form quite hazy in the darkness of the room, but you could hear the jingle and clank of the collar.
He walked up to you, a hand offering the collar to you. He had it engraved with your name beforehand, saving this for the right moment. “Will you be a good bitch for me, ____?”
You were looking up at him, eyes wide with a blush creeping across your face. You nod, squeaking out a quiet “Yes sir” in response to his question.
Naoya grinned as he reached to buckle the collar around your neck. “Good girl. Such a good little puppy for me, huh? I’m honestly a little surprised you raised no objections. Such a dumb little puppy, aren’t you?” He buckled the collar and moved his hand to your cheek and caressed you softly right before he pulls his hand away and slaps your face.
You gasp at the impact, looking up at Naoya with a mixture of fear and arousal. His hand snakes its way up the side of your face, before resting on the crown of your head and gripping you by a fistful of hair. He gently tugs your head to meet his, kissing you once more. “Be a good girl for me and I’ll make it worth it, okay?” He says as he pulls back, hooking the leash to the collar recently buckled around your neck. You only nod up at him, eyes saying everything you can’t with your mouth.
He rubs your head a bit, praising you. “Good pup.” You blush at the pet name, feeling heat spread in your body. “Take my clothes off, sweetheart. Be a good bitch and prep me after too, yeah?” He finishes by tugging your head slightly, just enough to add some pressure.
Your hands meet his waistline first. You tug at the drawstring of his sweats, pulling them off. His briefs follow suit, exposing his thick cock. You never would have guessed when you first met him, but he had a piercing going through the tip of his cock. It always added an extra sensation, and it was interesting to look at. You always wondered how painful it must have been.
Naoya’s cock bounces out of his sweats, precum already leaking from the swollen, angry looking tip. He’s looking down at you, expectantly. You don’t immediately budge, and so Naoya pulls on the leash attached to your collar, pulling you up to meet his cock. “Suck it, slut.” He commands as he’s tugging your head closer and closer.
You meet the tip of his cock, kissing it lightly, trying to be cute. Naoya grunts, pushing your lips open with his thumb and forcing his cock into your mouth. You barely have time to prepare yourself before Naoya is shoving his thick cock down your throat, still tugging at the leash and bringing you even closer into him. Your hands are trying to push away as his cock is pushed deep into your throat, cutting off your air. You can barely breathe through your nose as you struggle to push against him, but this only makes Naoya snaked a hand through your hair and push your head against his cock even more. “I know you can handle it, whore. I thought you’d be a good girl for me, so why are you resisting?” He taunts as he fucks into your throat causing drool to drip from your lips down your chin.
Tears were forming at your eyes as you look up to see Naoya fully immersed in his pleasure, head thrown back as he throat fucks you. He can see the tears starting to form at your eyes, only serving to turn him on more in a sick, sadistic sense of pride. He releases his grip from you momentarily, allowing you to catch your breath for only a few mere moments before resuming his rough abuse of your throat.
He picks up speed, not allowing you to get used to his erratic rhythm as you feel his cock start to twitch, warning you of what’s to come. You don’t really like swallowing, not that Naoya gives a fuck whether you do or not. Naoya does as he pleases. And right now, he would enjoy watching you swallow his cum. He likes the idea of fucking his cum down your throat, but he wants to watch you swallow it instead. Thus, he warns you before he’s about to cum and pulls out. “Open wide for me, pup. Time for your milk~” He purrs as he strokes his thick cock, shooting thick ropes of cum into your mouth.
The taste is horrible, and there’s so much it’s spilling out your mouth, just how Naoya wants you. “Swallow it, slut. Drink it like the good girl you are.” You swallow everything before opening your mouth and showing Naoya. He praises you, before bending down and spitting into your mouth following it with a sloppy kiss. He pulls away before pushing you onto your back on the bed. He pulls your top off first, watching the way your tits bounce when the shirt comes off. He trails kisses down your abdomen before reaching the waistband your pants. He tugs at it with a finger before completely pulling them off, leaving your panties on.
Naoya pushes your legs apart before positioning himself between them. He spits on one of his fingers as his other hand meets your clothed cunt, before pulling the panties to the side. His other finger rubs your slit, feeling how utterly soaked you are from just being teased and facefucked. His long, slender finger slides over your hole before making its way up to your clit, rubbing small circles around it. Naoya can hear your pathetic attempts at stifling your moans like you’re embarrassed, and he makes it one of his goals to make you louder. He wants everyone to hear what a dirty whore you are.
His finger makes it way back to your tight hole, slipping itself inside the wet and warm entrance. Naoya feels you immediately clench at the intrusion, hearing your cute moans as a result. “Good girl, let me hear how much you love me doing this yeah?” He encourages you as he pushes his finger all the way in, before immediately pulling it out and fucking you with it all over again. He wastes no time in adding another finger, trying to stretch your tight cunt open as much as he could. His fingers are drilling into you, making lewd wet slapping noises that fill the quiet room. Your soft moans betray how aroused you are.
Naoya pulls out to your chagrin, before rolling you over onto your tummy across his lap. He spreads your legs open once again before forcing his fingers back into your needy hole. You yelp out in surprise as his fingers slip inside, scissoring themselves and spreading you open. Naoya uses his other hand to spread your ass open, giving him a close up view of your weeping hole taking only 2 of his fingers and already struggling. “You’re taking it like such a good slut, yeah? You want me to stretch you out after?” He asks, feeling you clench around his fingers the moment he finishes his question. He laughs a bit. “I guess that’s your response, huh pup?”
It's that damn pet name again. You moan he lifts his hand to slap your ass. Naoya does not hold back in the slightest, repeating his slaps until he’s satisfied with the redness spreading across your ass. He pushes in another finger, this time feeling your stretch cunt at its limit. He pulls your body up into a sort of doggy position, you on your knees face down onto the bed. His fingers are slamming into your cunt, your juices dripping onto his hand and wrist then onto the bed.
Naoya bends down beside you, purring into your ear. “You’re such a good whore, aren’t you?” Your cunt clenches in response to his praise-degradation and he chuckles beside you. “I love bitches who make messes so easily, and you’re just like that. I bet you’re already close just from me fucking your tight cunt with my fingers.” He smirks at his taunt. You’re moaning into the bed, drool spilling from the sides of your mouth as his fingers continue their relentless assault on your cunt. He brings his other hand to your clit, thumb circling the sensitive nub as he brings you one step closer. Naoya was right, you were close, and he could tell just from your body how desperate you were to cum and make a mess right in front of him.
“You gonna cum, baby? Gonna make a mess for me, yeah?” You could only whine into the bedsheets, face pressed against the mattress as you felt Naoya bringing you ever so closer to your release. His thumb pressed harder onto your clit, rubbing it with more intensity as his other three fingers fucked into you with ferocity. You were drooling all over the sheet as you whined, feeling yourself tighten up around Naoya’s fingers as you feel that knot in your stomach start to snap—
And then Naoya pulls away both his hands, right as he felt you about to be pushed over the edge. You lift your head up, whining as you pout and look at him. He has the cheekiest grin plastered on his face as he brings his fingers to his mouth and cleans your juices off them. “Sorry, pup, but you don’t cum until I tell you to. Got that?” Your pitiful whines come out as a response, still squirming under Naoya at the loss of touch.
You softly squeak out, “Yes sir.” In response to Naoya’s question. You would do anything for him in this moment if it meant he would let you cum all over him. Literally anything. You would bark for him if he asked; he probably would like it given the puppy stuff anyways. Fuck, you’d even do tricks for him if he really wanted to, anything if it meant he praised you and helped you cum.
Naoya smiled even wider, setting a hand on your head and petting you. “Good girl,” he coos. You feel your heart melt and your pussy throb at the praise. He’s making it painfully slow for you, taking his time before he’s going to touch you again. He pushes your face back into the mattress, scooting your ass closer to him in the process.
Naoya parts your thighs ever so slightly, giving him better access to your sloppy cunt. He lines his thick cock against your hole, pushing his pierced head in ever so slightly. Even with his three fingers fucking your cunt and spreading it out, his cock was still a tight fit for you. He grips your hips with his firm hands as he pushes into you in one sadistic push, bottoming out into your tight cunt. You yelp out in pain as he slams his thick cock into you, feeling every ridge, vein, and especially his fucking piercing. You didn’t think it would feel extra good, but it’s an added sensation that you can’t get from anything else, and it feels fucking amazing.
You moan against the bedsheets loud enough for Naoya to hear as he pulls his cock out and slams it back in. “Fuck, ____, your cunt is so tight. It’s like it’s made just for me, yeah? A hole meant for me to breed, isn’t it? You’re just a bitch meant for breeding, aren’t you?” Naoya asks as he roughly spanks your ass in tandem with his thrusts. “Answer me, pup, what are you?” Naoya demands an answer as he hardly tugs at the leash, pulling you up against him.
The collar is pushing against your airway as he tugs at the leash supporting your weight. Because of this, you can barely choke out the words he was expecting to hear from you. “I’m a bitch… meant for breeding...” You sputter out as his thrusts increase in velocity and force. You moan against him as he pulls your body fully against his, fucking into you from behind.
“Good girl,” Naoya coos as he places a gentle kiss on your neck before biting down hard in the same spot. He draws a bit of blood, licking the area clean and kissing it once more before he lets go of you and pushes you onto the bed again.
Without breaking contact between you two, Naoya expertly flips you onto your back. He never stops his rhythm fucking into your abused cunt while moving your legs. He fucks you a bit in a missionary position, looking down into you as tears are forming at your eyes. “Fuck, Naoya, it feels sho fucking good~!!!” You slur your words out as you look into your eyes, his thick cock never relenting. You reach your arms around his neck as you pull him down to you into a quick kiss.
He pushes away from you, but not before gently biting on your lip first. He pulls his cock out momentarily as he places both your legs onto his shoulders. He pushes his body fully into yours, trying to feel every inch of your body. He slams his cock back into your messy hole as you moan into him. You can feel his warm breath as he trails kisses from your jawline to your neck, biting you in almost the same spot as before. The sharp pain only adds a distinct sensation that enhances your pleasure.
You can feel the knot building in your stomach again, threatening to snap at any moment. “Naoya, m gonna—m gonna cum, soon!!!” You stumble out your words, trying to warn him in advance so this time he can reward you.
Naoya grins and fucks into you harder, drilling his thick cock into your tight cunt. “Good slut, cum for your owner, bitch. I own you and this cunt, don’t I?” He taunts you as his cock hits your g-spot, hitting that bundle of nerves in such a way that has you seeing stars.
“Th-thank you!! Yesh, yesss you own me Naoya!!! I wanna be your dumb pet pleaseee imgonnacum im gonna cum!!!” Your words are stumbling out now, unable to control any of them as you feel the knot in your stomach break and you get not pushed over the edge, but metaphorically kicked into your orgasm. It feels like you’re crashing into the pleasure that is Naoya’s cock as you basically scream, feeling yourself squirt and make a mess around Naoya’s cock and the bed.
He reaches a hand to grip around your throat, cutting off your loud proclamations of pleasure. “Be quiet, bitch” He spits his words out as he rams into your cunt. You can feel his cock twitch and release his thick load, grunting as he fills your womb to the brim with his cum. His grip around your throat releases as he pushes himself off of you, pulling his cock out. Some of the cum overflows from your cunt, dripping out of your hole. He reaches a finger down, lapping up some with his finger and pushing it back inside, placing your panties back in the same position as before.
“Don’t let any spill out. You’re my bitch that’s meant to be knocked up by me. I’m sure you’re so excited to be a mommy, aren’t you?” In your fucked out state, all you can do is nod in a stupor as you try to catch your breath.
Naoya lifts your head and props a small pillow behind it as he climbs to in front of you, cocking staring straight at you. “Be a good girl and clean me up, pup.” You look up at him with half-lidded eyes, still reeling from your mind shattering orgasm mere moments before. Naoya’s thumb opens your mouth as his cock meets your lips. You stick your tongue out, placing kisses on his cock and licking his cock clean.
Once he’s satisfied with your cleanup, he moves beside you and kisses you. He pulls away and looks into your eyes as he caresses your cheek. “I love you, ____. You’re such a good girl for me.” You look into him and grin, as he playfully smacks your cheek. He places a kiss over the slight red mark he leaves before getting up to gather clothes for you.
‹𝟹 notes: how this fic got me feeling:
but frfr this pic got me going crazy im like feral and unhinged. i rly am a monkey. i think geto suguru was on to smthn frfr. i see hot jjk men i start fucking hooting like a monkey, going crazy when i see their bananas frfr
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(･ω･)つ divider creds to @/cafekitsune and @/eloquentreverie
#ao3 fic#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer#jjk fanfic#jjk fic#jjk smut#naoya zenin x reader#naoya zenin / reader#naoya zenin x you#naoya zenin x y/n#zenin naoya#zenin naoya smut#zenin naoya fic#jjk x reader#jjk x reader smut#zenin naoya x reader#zenin naoya x you#zenin naoya x y/n#fanfic#fic#smut#oneshot#oneshot fic#naoya jjk#naoya x you#jjk naoya#naoya x reader#naoya smut#naoya zenin
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wolf in sheep's clothing
↳ jake sully x fem!omatikaya!reader
content warnings | smut ( minors dni ), predator / prey play ( but pretty mild ), oral ( m ), masturbation ( f ), dirty talk, praise, knife play if you squint, facial, accidental stimulation
word count: 3587
notes | here i am for day four of romancing pandora: predator / prey ! first time writing for the man who got me into this fandom and who doesn't love some 2009! jake. these just keep getting longer, its a blessing and a curse
na'vi dictionary | ikran — banshee ; mawey — be calm ; pa'li — direhorse ; tewng — loincloth
Jake’s breath came out in shallow pants, calves burning with exertion as he carried himself as quickly and quietly as he could through the dense foliage of the forest. It was nearing eclipse, the shine of the sun becoming dimmer through the canopies of the massive trees, the more obscured fauna already beginning to glow lightly with bioluminescent colors.
He was a bit embarrassed of how winded he was, taking a pause to put his hands above his head and inhale deep breaths. He did his best to keep in shape after his discharge, but there was only so much cardio you could do while you were planted in a wheelchair.
Luckily, his avatar was quick to build stamina, the lean body adapted to the harsh climate and terrain of the Forest Na’vi. The pads of his feet were rough and strong, thighs tight with muscle to plant himself firmly while climbing trees, lats and biceps sturdy and taut in preparation to swing across vines or scale mountainsides. It was new, weird, and ultimately awesome.
Still, all his physiological adaptations of his new form (his body, he reminded himself, this was his body now) did little to ease the burn in his chest. He’d been running for a while now, ducking down and between trees and vines in ways that his mind remembered but his body was still slowly readapting to.
It was a simple exercise, really. A test to make sure he had adapted to moving and hunting like a Na’vi rather than a Sky Person. He’d become better—learning to quiet his steps, hear the sounds of nature and the wind that could carry his scent and sound, and he was at least trying to feel the energy of the world around. Still, you had wanted to be sure before you brought him on an official hunt, to prevent him from embarrassing both you and him.
You’d begun right after lunch, riding Jake out on your ikran to the far reaches of the forest, miles from Hometree. He’d gotten a head start of about thirty minutes and directions to the general location of Hometree before you’d sent him away with a pat on the back and a knowing smirk.
The task had two rules—1) make it back to Hometree before the eclipse set fully for the night, and 2) don’t get caught.
He’s beginning to recognize the landscape surrounding Hometree, bark marked with knife symbols and stray arrows that preceded the training grounds. He couldn’t be far now.
He knew firsthand how many predators lie in the forest, and they all seemed hell-bent on getting a chunk of his tasty blue flesh, so he wasn’t eager to see one of them again. Then again, there was little in the forest that set his nerves on end more than you.
Your relationship was strange, dancing between the line of ‘absolutely hating each other’ and ‘begrudging friends due to circumstance’. It seemed like you teeteered between them each day depending on your mood or how shitty he was doing in his training.
You’d taken up the mantle of helping Jake with extra training whenever Neytiri was pulled away for her duties as tsakarem, something that was becoming more and more common with the steady invasion of the Sky Demons. You were a strong hunter, more patient than Neytiri was but also twice as demanding. You knew what you wanted done and how, and knew exactly how to get it, even if it meant keeping Jake awake all night practicing his bow stance.
There were times you looked at Jake like he was the scum that stuck to the bottom of your shoe (well, if you wore shoes), like he had single-handedly arrived to make your life difficult. Then, there were the other times. The times when you let your gaze soften as you taught him the words of your people—words like love, and hope and friendship that felt like more than just words when they passed your lips so sweetly. The times when your grip tightens on the bulge of his muscles to adjust his stance, or when your eyes linger a little too long on the exposed skin of his stomach.
It was in those times he felt his mind wander somewhere beyond the defined boundaries of your relationship, to slip into something a little softer, a little hotter. It was starting to become a problem, how ingrained your moods and touches were into the etches of his being, how he was becoming more and more certain that you wanted him just as bad.
Fuck, he could be imagining it, probably was imagining it, but it didn’t matter when you wouldn’t get out of his damn head. You were steady, and tough and so fucking sexy it made his head spin.
He couldn’t help the wandering thoughts as he trailed through the forest, body and mind exhausted from the hours he’d spent watching his every step, craning his head to every sound. His ears twitched up and out, picking up on the low hum of insects and scuffles of small game across the forest floor. He’d been antsy for a while now, the skin rising on the back of his neck and blood thumping through his veins. It felt like he was being watched, that strange dread of being small and targeted creeping up his spine.
The tackle takes him by surprise, the full weight of your body emerging from a low-hanging branch to throw him off balance. He’s a lot bigger than you, stronger too, but this was your terrain and you were definitely in control. He stumbles over vines and rocks as he tumbles back, the impact of the hard ground knocking the breath from his already exhausted lungs.
You’re able to roll off him with grace, readjusting your stance to crouch lowly over him with a mild hiss. Your knife is at his throat before he even has a chance to get his bearings.
“Dead.” Your hot breath hisses over his ear, the cool edge of your knife pressing lightly to his carotid artery.
The blood pounding in his head quickly rushes elsewhere when he’s finally able to take note of your positions. Your face is close enough he can feel your lightly heaving breaths next to his ear, your tail flicking mildly against his thigh as you hold your barely covered sex just above his own. It’s dumb and wrong and he can’t believe he is sporting a halfie right now because what the hell happened to him in life that this gets him hot?
Your gaze softens as he struggles to catch his breath, relaxing your crouch position into a sit on the area just above his loincloth, making him huff. He hopes to whatever god there is on Pandora that you take his flushed cheeks and heavy breathing as anger at being caught and not the mind-bending arousal that was flooding his system.
“You did well, Jake. Most children don’t get nearly this far on their first trial.” You lean back on his lap, knife still dangling from one hand. You clearly don’t seem too bothered with the proximity of your ass to his cock, giving him a teasing look as you praise him. He knew the Na’vi were more open with their sexuality, more casual with touching and feeling than humans but this had to be raising some kind of flags for you.
“Yeah, well, maybe if I had a better teacher…” His voice sounds strained to his own ears, desperate to move the conversation to something, anything, to distract him and get that damn sexy look off your face, like you’ve just won a prize.
Your grin is wide and teasing, easily brushing off his jab. You let your sharp-edged blade trace precariously against the skin of his stomach, voice thick in accented English. “Oh, don’t be a sore sport, Jake. I’m being nice, even though your footsteps are like thunder.”
"Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad.” He huffed, leaning a hand behind his head to catch his breath and avoid your piercing gaze.
“Oh, it was. You were moving around like a baby pa’li, just stomp, stomp, stomp.” Your giggles were relentless as you teased him, thumping your feet and tail in loud smacks to drive home your point.
Jake usually would have found it childish, just pushing you off himself and brushing off his shame. Except, your hips swayed dangerously low to the tent in his loincloth with each of your stomping movements, eventually brushing against his sensitive skin and causing heat to shoot through his stomach and up his spine.
“Fuck, don’t move, darling.” His voice was heavier than he meant it to be, his hands instinctively grasping your hips to stop you from moving any further.
Your eyes trail from the flush high on his cheeks to the twitching of his ears, a slow realization coming over your face. Your eyes dilate, tail twitching behind you as you purposefully push your hips back against the growing bulge of his cock. He lets out a groan, fingers tightening against the curve of your hips as he forces his own to stay still.
“I did this to you?” Your expression is unreadable, eyes darting over his face in question.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Jake rubs a hand over his eyes, obviously embarrassed. You tackled him, got on his lap and put a damn knife to his neck, and he popped a boner like a goddamn teenager. Grace is gonna murder him when she finds out this is what gets him finally kicked out of the village. “You just looked so pretty, and my adrenaline was going. It-it’s really natural-”
“Mawey, Jake, it is ok.” You grasp one of his hands, your fingers soft but insistent as you lead him to the dip between your legs. He looks up with questioning eyes, waiting for your permission, before dipping his fingers underneath the soft fabric. He bites his lip as he lets his fingers explore the valleys of your pussy, coming away hot and slick from your arousal.
Your eyes are still focused only on his face, moving your hips idly against his exploring touch as your breath quickens. “It is the same for me. I want you, Jake, all of you, if you will have me.”
He sits up at the waist, letting the fingers from his free hand trace along the edges of your hips and the base of your tail, relishing in the shivers you let out against his chest. He thinks for a moment he must have hit his head too hard since there was no way this strong warrior, this beautiful being so far from anything he had ever known, was offering herself to him.
Except he can feel every breath that huffs from your chest, each twitch of your thighs against his hip, each tremor that wracks your frame when his fingers roll your clit. It makes any rational thought in his head sweep away, pushing his forehead to yours to breathe in this moment.
“Yes, I want you, of course I want you.”
You reached a hand to his face and he could smell the hot musk of your arousal so strongly it made his hips twitch. He leaned his face into your hand, feeling the soft touch of your fingers before pushing his lips to yours impatiently. You sunk into his embrace as he pulled you close, chests brushing one another as you explored the feel of each other for the first time.
Your tongue slipped between your teeth, teasing the edge of Jake’s lips as you opened yourself up to him, letting the sensations of his fingers dipping into your cunt roll over you.
You’d had a few lovers before, fleeting encounters in the night throughout your life, but none had lit your skin aflame like Jake. He was different and a little forbidden, a strong man who threw himself wholeheartedly into the ways of your people and, fuck, you wanted him like no one before.
His hand trails up the length of your ribs, feeling each dip and curve of your figure as your body moves into him. You let out a shaky gasp that borders on a moan when he grips your tit, thumb moving teasingly along the stiff bud of your nipple. You’re trying so hard to keep yourself together, to be the one in control, but can feel yourself crumbling at each press of his fingers against your hot flesh.
Jake groans against your lips, keeping his thumb rubbing against your tit. “Fuck, I love that sound. Let me hear it again, sweet girl.”
“Me first.” You trail your fingers under the hem of his tewng,pulling the fabric down with a tug to the strings. Jake can see the focus of your eyes, almost grounding yourself like you’re trying to regain some sort of control over your body.
Jake’s touch made you feel like you were falling, an exhilarating and nerve-wracking loss of control that had you shaking. You let your fingers slip over the head of his cock, already wet with precum and decorated with little tanhì on the lavender skin. Jake grunts as you let your fingers slide repeatedly over the wet slit, the confident look from earlier returning to your features as you drink in the sounds he makes with each pass of your hand.
“Oh, come on, darling, let me make you feel good. I was just getting started.” His grin is wicked sharp, as dangerous and enticing as he is, his alien fingers rubbing firmly over your clit to prove his point.
“Come now, I successfully got my prey. Shouldn’t I get to reap a hunter’s reward?” Your lips are swollen as you pant the words into his mouth, moving both your hands to twist around the length of his cock. He hardly muffles a moan at the overwhelming stimulation, brows furrowed in pleasure as you let a grin sneak over your lips.
And fuck that shouldn’t make heat run through him like it does, setting his ears aflame as his hips twitch unwittingly into your grasp. Your prey. He certainly felt like it with the coy way your fingers grasped around his cock, each muscle in his body plying to the sweet friction of your touch.
He lets himself relax back against the dirt and moss of the ground, feeling a pang of need go through him at the look in your eyes as you run your fingers along him, imprinting yourself onto him, declaring him as your bounty in the depths of the woods. “God, darling, you look so pretty, wanna feel your lips on my cock so bad.”
“Being quiet was never your strength, was it?” You tease, flicking your tongue out to run along the bumps on his shaft. They glowed lightly in the dim evening, pulsing a bit as he leaked precum onto your tongue with hitched breath.
“Yeah, well, we all have our flaws.”
You hum against the shaft of his cock, vibrations making his thighs tense under you. “Not a flaw, let me hear how good I make you feel.”
With that, you wrap your lips around the darker tip of his cock, letting your mouth fall over the tip and running your tongue along the sensitive underside of his head. Jake leans up on his elbows to get a good look, pushing stray strands of hair from your face to admire how your lips stretch around him.
Your eyes are glassy as you take what you want from him desperately, tongue playing on each edge of his cock you can reach to see what has him keening into your touch. His cock is wide enough to stretch your lips, a bit of drool edging from the corner of your mouth.
His tail flicks frantically behind him, restless against the dirt ground before coiling itself around the top of your thigh. He struggles to keep his hips still, near panting as you ease your lips down his cock, taking a little more each time your head bobs. Your throat spasms a bit as you get halfway down his length, muscles tightening around his cock as you breathe heavily through your nose.
He lets out a startled grunt, brows pinched in pleasure as he looks down at you with half-lidded eyes. “Oh, shit, just like that, darling, doing so good.”
You look almost proud as you gaze up at him from between his legs, leaving one hand at the base of his cock to stroke what you can’t fit in your mouth. He vaguely notices your other hand moving between your legs.
“Fuck, are you touching yourself? All wet just from sucking my cock? Fuck, I bet it’s so pretty, all stretched out around your little fingers.”
The moan you let out reverberates up his cock and into his spine, making his fingers clench in your hair. He can hear the wet slide of your fingers now, rolling inside yourself at the same pace your mouth is falling down his cock. He wishes he could see better, the way your cunt stretches around your own touch, how you stroke yourself in the ways that make you feel the best, he wants to learn it all and ingrain it in his memory forever.
“Fuck, I wanna feel you moan on my cock when you cum, don’t stop-”
He groans as your fingers increase their pace between your legs, your body swaying with each of your thrusts into yourself, pushing your mouth back onto his cock with each movement. He can feel his resolve running thin, mouth lulling open in panting breaths as he lightly moves his hips to chase the movement of your tongue.
You breathe heavily through your nose as the pace of his hips increase, restless against the ground as you suckle hard at the head of his cock. Your moans are incessant now, high and vibrating against the sensitive skin of his tip as you ride your own high. Your eyes are glassy with tears, tightening your grip on his cock as he feels you tremble against him.
He’s still getting used to the whole idea of this Eywa thing, but fuck, the way you look on your knees has to be some kind of divine omen if he’s ever seen one.
He can barely see your body from here, the peaks of your breasts barely poking from the decorative weaving of your top, but the feeling of your hard nipples brushing against his thighs as you move against him has him reeling. He can’t help every little thought he’s had of you in that moment surface—of his cock between your tits, teasing the hard nubs until you're shaking under him, of the look on your face as you ride him relentlessly for your own pleasure, of your eyes rolling as he fucks his cum back into you.
He can feel his self-control slipping, hips inching up into your throat and causing it to spasm around him. You let him move his hips against you, looking up with teary eyes as you run short on breath. After a few strokes, you pull off his cock, panting and shaking with need.
“Jake, Jake, I-yes, yes” your grip on his cock is messy and wet, slick with his own precum and your saliva. His hips jump at the rawness of your voice, breathy and wanting just for him. It’s been a while since he’s been in the game but fuck, he knows you’re close, whining and grinding against your own fingers as you struggle to keep your hand on rhythm.
“Oh fuck, that’s it, come for me baby, I’m almost there-”
He can feel the moment you fall apart on your own fingers, breath catching as you still yourself at the head of his cock, suckling hard as your eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy. You end up easing yourself off to pant into the meat of his thigh, chest panting and fingers quivering as they work his cock.
“Cum, Jake, let me have it.” Your lips ghost over his length as you move both hands to grip tight around his cock, twisting your fingers at the base as you rub at the sensitive spot below his head. The grunt he lets out is near animalistic, hips pushing desperately up into your slick grip as he chases the edge of release.
The vibration of your voice and the haze of pleasure in your eyes has him hurtling over the edge, stars painting the blackness behind his eyes. Thick strands of cum paint your cheeks and lips, streaks of pearly white on your beautiful blue-skinned complexion.
A sense of pride and possessiveness swells in him at the sight, like he was the one who got to claim you now, covered in his scent and his seed so everyone would know just what happened in the woods. The idea of you flaunting around, a strong and capable warrior, reeking of the alien intruder as you went about his duties had the dimming heat in his loins flaring as he came down from his high.
He pants as aftershocks thrum through his muscles, exhaustion seeping into his bones as you cradle up beside him. He can vaguely feel a contented purr coming from you, tickling his ribs as he pulls you close to put his nose in your hair. “Next time, I’m the one doing the tracking.”
tags: @eywaite @tallulah477 @neteyamsoare @torukmaktoskxawng
#romancingpandora2024#avatar 2009#avatar fanfiction#avatar the way of water#avatar#jake sully#jake sully x reader#jake sully smut#jake sully x you#venus writes#avatar x reader
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