#AND THIS FIC IS A ONE-SHOT THAT'S OVER 4.3K

[aeyumicore]

shot, shot, shot, shot!

━ .ᐟ✧ SCENARIO: what happens when the four love and deepspace men get drunk and jealous? there's only one cure and it's in between your legs!

━ ✧.˖ PAIRING: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel (separate) x female reader (afab)

━ .ᐟ✧ GENRE: smut, porn with very little plot

━ ✧.˖ TOTAL WORD COUNT: 15.7k

━ .ᐟ✧ GENERAL CONTENT WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, mentions of alcohol, recreational drinking (characters and mc), jealousy (guys + mc), drunk characters (guys + mc), use of Y/N, pet names, unprotected sex, never pulling out, fluff/crack/banter, individual content warnings below with their respective fics

━ ✧.˖ LINKS: original inspo | ao3

A/N: SURPRISE ITS HERE EARLY! oof another fic for all four guys? who is she? but actually after this i likely won’t be writing for all four guys like this again, or at least for a while. if i can somehow get better at writing fics that are 1-2k then ill start doing scenarios with all four again! i tried to keep this one short and they’re still all 3-4.3k per guy…this scenario was originally based off the one video of the drunk asian guy! see the clip above under ‘links.’

enjoy guys!! i’ll be taking a much needed break but may write slowly in my own time :) just depends how i feel, how much inspiration i have! i’ll still be on tumblr but will mostly be on my twitter <3 until next time bbs!

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 4.3k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, sylus refers to reader genitalia as ‘she,’ public sex, sex in an alley, standing/against the wall sex, finger sucking, choking, outdoor sex, voyeurism, needy sylus, drunk sylus, jealous sylus, use of pet names, mentions of guns, tiny bit of violence, cumming in coochie, panties over cummies

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: original inspo | video (how sylus kisses you in this)

Luke and Kieran watch the way Sylus’s eyes track you under the strobing lights of the nightclub. It wasn’t out of the norm for their dear boss to be obsessed with knowing a certain Hunter’s whereabouts. But this was excessive, even for him.

The way he’d already shattered two glasses with the force of his fingers, his eyes scarily unblinking as they trailed your every movement. The club manager didn’t dare kick Sylus out, apologizing to him as he’d cleaned up the glass from Sylus’s feet. But Sylus was too distracted to even notice. 

The pair of troublemakers supposed it had to do with the fact that some sleezy drunk had his hands all over your bare thighs. They knew if Sylus had his way, that very man would be unconscious on the floor in half a second flat. But of course, when it came to you, Sylus was helpless as he was whipped, giving into your every desire, even if it physically pained him to do so.

And you had ordered Sylus not to intervene, not when you were undercover, trying to get classified information from the powerful men that frequented this very nightclub in the N109 zone. So he was left at the bar, quite literally fending thirsty women off left and right, watching the way you pretended to laugh amongst the unsuspecting targets. He tried to distract himself from the men who so clearly were thinking of ten different ways to fuck you. 

A privilege reserved only for him.  

So the twins, who had so enthusiastically begged to tag along, devised a plan to help Sylus take his mind off planning literal murder. 

Really, they were trying to help!

But maybe they should’ve stopped after the fifth drink. When Sylus’s cheeks flushed the same shade of red as his eyes, ebbing all the way up to the tips of his ears. 

And they definitely should’ve stopped after the tenth drink. When Sylus’s body started to move on its own accord, his Evol practically parting the crowd of drunk and sweaty clubbers to get to you.

But at that point there was no stopping the formidable man from taking what he wanted. And what he wanted, what he needed, was you. 

Honestly, you nearly breathe a sigh of relief when you feel Sylus’s familiar Evol wrapping around your wrist, yanking you backward and away from the disgusting man trying to feel you up. You’re so happy to feel his strong arms around you that you don’t notice how atypically clumsy his Evol feels, like grasping for something when blindfolded.

“We’re leaving.”

Sylus’s words are dominating and commanding, ‘no’ not even a fathomable possibility. But there’s a slight waver in his gruff voice that makes you raise your eyebrow at him in question.

The idiotic man before you wraps his clammy hands around your waist, pulling you back, “Hey man. We’re in the middle of something.”

You look up to see Sylus’s crimson eyes, trained on the way the man’s fingers dig into your bare skin, burning with something dangerous, the air around him crackling with an erratic and sinister energy, and you know you have to defuse the situation as quickly as you can. 

You bring your elbow to the man’s groin, digging hard. He groans pathetically, wilting to his knees. Truthfully, you didn’t have to elbow him that hard, but you’d become nauseated with how disgustingly he’d been looking at you, touching you, for the past thirty minutes. 

“No, we’re really not.”

With that, you slip into Sylus’s side, his large arm wrapping possessively around your naked shoulders, your hand resting on his abdomen. Sylus’s lips quirk up, deeply satisfied with the way you can bring men twice your size to their knees before they can even blink. His girl.

As the two of you make your way out of the crowd, you start to notice the way Sylus’s movements are unusually sluggish, his feet trudging one after the other. Considering Sylus was always poised and elegant, you instantly knew something was amiss. When Luke and Kieran fall into step behind you, you turn to the two masked men.

“What happened?!” you hissed at them, “What happened to ‘Watch Sylus? Easy peasy lemon squeezy?!’” Your fingers are raised in air-quotes as you recall their confident words and uncontrollable giggles when you’d tasked them with keeping Sylus in line, knowing he’d have a hard time watching you faux flirt with other men, no matter how self assured he was. 

Kieran is the first to speak, clearing his throat as the four of you exit the nightclub, the night air ruffling through your hair, “Well, you see –”

But he’s cut off when Sylus roughly grabs your chin, pulling your eyes up to his. 

“Hey. Look at me.”

Your eyes flicker to his, surprised by his demanding, yet needy, words. Sylus smiles when you look up at him, his eyes, as unfocused as they were, beaming down at you.

His rough fingers caress your cheek, burying his face into your hair, inhaling your intoxicating scent, “Beautiful.”

The scent of alcohol on his breath is so strong you nearly wince. Luke and Kieran seem to notice your realization at the same time, their eyes widening as you start to yell in disbelief.

“Is he drunk?!” you demand, your arms wrapping tighter around his waist, Sylus in a world of his own as he mutters incoherent mumblings into your hair, shifting his weight onto you.

The twins grin at you sheepishly, raising their hands in surrender. Luke speaks, “Well, in our defense, boss never gets drunk –”

“Yeah! Boss is such a heavyweight –”

“So we thought, a few drinks might loosen him up –”

“You should’ve seen him! He was thiiiiiis close to commiting a crime –”

“So really, you should be thanking us!”

The twins finish rattling off, looking at you with puppy eyes.

You sigh, unable to feign anger at them, “How many drinks did you give him?”

“Umm…what was it Kieran…like…eight?” Your eyes widen as they scratch their chins.

“No…no, it was definitely closer to…like twelve?”

“Well we also gave him those cute little drinks with the umbrellas, he seemed to really like those!”

“Yeah and they had little chunks of fruit in them! Maybe that cancels out the alcohol?”

“Yeah! And the one with the olives too! Plus, boss always drinks like a bottle of wine a night!

“So we thought…a few mixed drinks…couldn’t hurt anyone!”

Your head spins as you try to keep up with their conversation, digging through your purse to find the unopened half bottle of water you’d brought. You quickly unscrew it, bringing it up to Sylus’s lips. 

Sylus looks surprised when the cool plastic touches his lips, but once his hazy eyes focus on you again, he visibly relaxes. The sharp vermillion hues in his irises melt at the reflection of you, softening into the most beautiful carmine pools of red wine. 

His hands come over to cup yours, holding your fingers affectionately in his as you tilt the water back so he can drink. You have to tip toe upward so you can follow his grip, his gulps greedy and eyelids shut in relief, the sensation of your hand cupping his jaw feeling like his own personal heaven. 

With the plastic at his moistened lips, his eyes flutter open to look at you, his lids heavy with intoxication. Even though his eyes swim with a murky tiredness, they glow when they watch you, glimmering with a star-struck adoration. His intensity stares you down, a knowing heat piercing right through you. The very same heat that has seen both your naked body and soul.

The moment feels hot and strangely intimate. It definitely felt illegal to have Sylus looking at you like that while Luke and Kieran stood behind you. 

He’s so distracted by you, eyes never leaving yours, that nearly a third of the water splashes onto his chest and the pavement floor. He drinks so enthusiastically that you almost want to giggle at how submissive he looks, drinking so obediently from your hands, eyes following your every move. Fortunately the pair of whispers behind you remind you that, even if Sylus stares at you like he’s ready to mount you right then and there, you are not alone. 

When the bottle drains, he crumples it in one hand, tossing it to the nearest waste bin. 

As it hits the metal trash can, you tear your eyes away from the way Sylus heatedly watches you, turning back to Luke and Kieran, “Are you two insane?!”

The twins look positively offended.

“How did you even convince him to drink so much?” 

“Well, he was so distracted watching you that he just downed anything we put into his hands...” 

You bite your lip, realizing how difficult it must’ve been for Sylus to sit back and just watch. But he did it, for you. 

“Y/N.”

You try to ignore the way Sylus is stroking the bare skin of your shoulders, fingers coming dangerously close to your neck. His ruby eyes beg for your attention.

“Sylus might drink a lot, but he drinks wine –”

“Y/N.”

“Not hard alcohol! Look at how red he is! You guys, this was recklessly irresponsible!”

“Y/N.”

Sylus pulls you forcefully back into his arms, his head dipping into the crook of your neck, teeth nipping at your pulse. Through the darkness of the night, you pray Luke and Kieran can’t see the way Sylus whispers into your ear.

“I need you.”

You fight the shiver that threatens to unleash through your unsuspecting body, his hot breath washing against your skin, the contrast of the brisk night air making you all the more sensitive. His fingers hold you in place, his hard body pressed into your own. 

You sigh, trying to brush the arousal away, “Let’s get you home, yeah? We can –”

He nips at your earlobe, eliciting a squeak from your lips as he gruffly demands, “Now.”

Before you can protest further, Sylus’s eyes direct to the twins in front of you, the pair of them snickering to themselves knowingly as he dismisses them, “We’ll meet you at home.”

–

You didn’t even make it to your car. 

Far from it, you found yourself pressed into the cold brickwall of a nearby alleyway, not fifteen feet from where Luke and Kieran had left the two of you. Sylus’s lips are latched onto yours in a furiously passionate embrace, his hands alternating between grabbing torridly at your waist and threading into the back of your neck, weaving into your sweat-dampened hair.

Your arms are wrapped around his neck for support against his torridly forceful kiss, his head tilted to the side to give him full access to your mouth, your lips, your tongue. 

He doesn’t even stop to breathe, opting to inhale your breath as his own. His tongue forcefully explores every inch of your open and willing mouth, and you struggle to keep up with his excitement. His fingers massage your neck, grabbing eagerly at every part of you he can reach. 

Sylus has always been passionate, but this was something else. It felt as if the alcohol in his blood amplified everything tenfold, leaving his cock thicker than ever against your shivering abdomen. His hands roam down your naked back, pulling at your waist again, pressing your body harder against his erection that leaks against his underwear. 

Sylus’s head tilts to the other side, your face moving opposite his to instinctively receive his unbridled passion. He cups the back of your head again, shielding you head from hitting the wall, the force of his kiss pushing you against it violently. 

He pulls away briefly, panting into you, his canines grazing into the soft skin of your ear, “You’re going to be the death of me, little dove.”

You want to question him, but his lips are back on yours in an instant, consuming you once more. His fingers grip your jaw so tightly, funneling all the emotions he’d held back, while watching you on the dancefloor with other men, into the way he holds you against the wall. Into the way he devours you.

He gives you a brief second of reprieve, pressing his lips into your neck, voice coming out husky and sulky, “I don’t enjoy seeing you with other men.” 

You gasp as he pushes you impossibly deeper into the wall, teeth simultaneously digging into the curve of your neck. Your fingers thread up into his hair, tugging to ground yourself as Sylus sucks your soft skin. 

“M-sooorry,” you slur, as if you’re the one who’s drunk, “B-But I got the information I – nnghn – needed.”

Sylus growls into your skin, “I knew you would. You’re a force to be reckoned with.”

His thumb presses against your bottom lip, eyes glazed over with a drunken hunger, “And you always have me at your mercy.”

It isn’t long before he has your back arched into his abdomen, the front of your sweat slicked body pressed into the cold alley wall, his cock buried in your wet gummy walls. Your panties are pushed messily to the side, your skirt hiked up to your waist. 

Sylus’s fingers are shoved into your mouth, claiming to try and minimize your sounds so passerbys don't hear the filthy things he was doing to you. In reality, he was just addicted to your sweet mouth wrapped around him.

His other hand holds both of your wrists, locking them against the small of your back, leaving you absolutely at the mercy of his thick cock ramming in and out of you.

“S-so damn beautiful,” Sylus is almost slurring, having gotten more drunk the longer the alcohol sat in his stomach. The acoustics of the dark alley made his body pounding against yours all the louder and more sinful. 

His thrusts are sloppy, the alcohol making it harder for him to maintain control. But that only serves to arouse you more, the sight of Sylus’s hazy eyes when you crane your neck back to see him, the sweat sticking to his flushed skin. 

You can only moan, the pads of his fingers pressing down into your tongue. The loud drunken giggles of people passing by make your eyes widen, but Sylus doesn’t stop, only going faster. 

“Never gonna let another man touch you, ever again,” he moans into your ear, as he ruts angrily into your g spot, his fingers pressing tiny bruises into the fat of your hips. He’s ten times handsier when he’s drunk, almost as if the alcohol makes his muscles itch, your body his fixation.. 

He spins you around suddenly, nearly making you lose your balance, his cock entering you just as quickly as it had slipped out. Sylus is desperate to see your beautifully hooded eyes, the faces you make when you come undone for him.

You grip the thick muscles of his neck, admiring his damp and exposed chest. The buttons of his shirt had been yanked open in the drunken shuffle, leaving little to imagination.

“H-Hey,” Sylus mutters, the faintest hint of a whine beneath his words, “Look at me.” His thrusts, sloppier than ever, never stopping.

You grin, despite how blissed out your mind is becoming, at his adorably needy behavior. As you let your eyes lose themselves in his, you stroke his jaw lovingly.

“Tell me,” he pants, his cock twitching as it presses insistently into your walls.

“Nngh — T-Tell you what Sy?” you coo breathlessly, nails digging into his sweaty skin, trying to distract yourself from the no doubt filthy brick wall pressing into your exposed back. 

“Tell me how I make you feel,” Sylus’s jaw tightens dangerously.

He thrusts especially hard and deep when you don’t respond, capturing your wrist and pressing it into the wall above your head, effectively trapping you against the wall, “Tell me.” 

You squeal, biting your lips, “Sylus! F-Feels s’good. N-No one else can — hng — make me feel like this!” 

Sylus’s glossy ruby red eyes flicker, his fingers finding your clit pressed against his pelvis, “Yeah? You love my cock, don’t you sweetheart?”

You want to smile at how adorably needy his words are, the alcohol fueling him with the rare desire to be validated. Instead you just nod vehemently as he plays with your clit, “I dooo!” 

Sylus grunts, struggling to breathe as you tighten around him. He grabs your cheeks in between his fingers, squeezing them firmly until your moans are muffled, “Shhh, we wouldn’t want someone to find us, would we little bird?” 

You nod obediently, but your body responds instinctively to his words, your abdomen fluttering in excitement at the thought of being caught in such a compromising position, with the revered leader of Onychinus no less. 

Sylus chuckles darkly, his every nerve receptive to your tiniest micromovements, and especially the excited way your pussy clamps down on his erection. His lips come down to kiss your jaw sweetly, contrary to the mean way he bullies himself into your cunt.

When he reaches the space beneath your ear he presses a tender kiss there, whispering huskily, “I can feel the way you’re tightening around me. Do you like the idea of someone watching us?”

Your eyes widen at him, and that’s all the answer he needs. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I would love to give them a show. Especially that man who had his hands all over you, hm? What was his name?”

“I-I d-don’t – hah – remember,” you wheeze, holding on as he bounces you into the wall, the sound of drunk bar patrons growing louder.

Sylus smiles darkly, his red eyes glowing in satisfaction, “Good girl. This pussy belongs t’me, hm?” His words come out in a purr, slightly sluggish with intoxication.

You can’t speak, opting to nod as eagerly as you can, your brain muddling against the pleasure of your joined bodies. Sylus chuckles at your wordless agreement.

“My precious dove…can’t even speak?” he coos, fingers still splayed out against your poor quivering clit, the wet sounds of his furious ministrations echoing throughout the dark alley. He leans in close to your ear.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. She’s so loud she might as well be answering for you,” he grins, clearly talking about your soaked and squelching pussy against his demanding thrusts. 

You’re about to retort when you hear another group of people passing by the alley. Your hands fly up to your mouth, forcing your uncontrollable moans away. Your eyes squeeze shut as the patter of feet gets closer and closer, fear and excitement taking over.

“Ah-ah,” Sylus tuts, “You know better than to hide your beautiful sounds from me.” Your eyes widen when his words sink in. 

Your hands fly to Sylus’s broad shoulders, but it’s too late to push him back. His hands find the globes of your ass, lifting you off the floor, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. At this angle Sylus can fully bounce you on his cock, using you however he wants. At this angle, the swollen tip brushes right into your cervix. At this angle, it’s physically impossible for you to muffle your cries. 

Your nails dig into the ropes of his shoulder muscles as you squeal. Sylus only grins as the sound of feet falter, right in front of the alley.

You try your best to whisper, “Sy-Sylus, please. Th-they’ll hear.” But it was pointless. Even if you could hold back your whimpers, the echo of his arousal dampened pelvis slapping against the space where your thighs met your ass bounced off the walls of the alley like a resounding bell. 

“You say that…” he murmurs, fingers coming back down to your clit, balancing you in just one arm, “But why is she getting so tight?”

He’s right, and there’s no denying it. Sylus is well acquainted with your body, knowing exactly what excites you, what you don’t like, what you love. 

The heavy footsteps gradually fade, likely too drunk to hear anything than the pounding of distant EDM music. Sylus hears you sigh in relief, releasing a bated breath, but your cunt stays as tight as ever around him. It drives him insane.

Nearly getting caught has only pushed both of you to the cusp of your orgasms. 

“Close, dove?” Sylus whispers into your ear, one hand pressed into the wall, the other bouncing you on his quivering cock.

Your head is thrown back as you nod, gasping for your next breath, “Y-Yes! So cloooose Sy!” At this point you don’t even care who could possibly hear you, only able to focus on the angry way Sylus’s cock twitching inside you, stroking your g-spot, begging to paint you white.

“M-Me too, Y/N,” Sylus’s uncharacteristic stutter, driven to madness by the alcohol and you, makes you clench down, hard. 

He hisses, hips stuttering, teeth clamping down on your shoulder, tongue subsequently coming out to lap at the space where he bit down, soothing your skin. 

The push of pain, the pull of pleasure, it’s just enough to tip you over, careening down the cliff of your orgasm. Your head falls back, eyes rolling with them, body fully preparing to show Sylus just how much you loved him. 

But Sylus has other plans, squeezing your cheeks in between his fingers, directing you to look at him. 

“Hey. Look at me, please.” 

His commanding words remind you that he’s very much still intoxicated, making him adorably needy for your attention.

When your eyes level with his, his red eyes sparkle happily, like a puppy getting its ears scratched, “Hello, my love. Show me, hm?” The duality of his lovable desperation and his downright malevolent plunges into your cervix blurs the lines between pleasure and reality, sanity and madness.

You nod eagerly, holding his intense eye contact, while you burst at the seams, spraying all over his still clothed abdomen. Sparks of white hot electricity travel through every one of your nerve endings while you cum on him.

Sylus gulps, in awe of the way you sing for him, shame thrown to the wind. If anyone were to walk by, they’d hear the way you screamed for his cock. Hear the way your body made him gasp for his next breath. How he grunts with each rope of cum that he dumps into your waiting hole, each sloppy pump filling his vision with bleary stars.

As he cums, he whispers brokenly into your ear, “C-Can never get enough. I love you, sweetheart.”  One of his big hands comes up to clamp around your throat, his fingers pressing down forcefully as he erupts inside of you. 

“Ngh…I love you Sylus,” you murmur against the pleasure of your constricted air flow, clinging to him, truly like an injured bird.

Sylus kisses your lips tenderly as you both come down from your highs, his fingers carefully laying your panties back in place. When he sets you on the ground, you nearly collapse, your legs quivering from the way they’d been locked around his waist. His arms are back around you in an instant, holding you steady. His cum flows out of you like literal tears, but you can only clamp your thighs shut and pray your pathetic soiled panties can catch the streams of his milky seed. 

He guides you carefully out of the alley, pressing affectionate kisses into the crown of your head as he holds your waist protectively. You’re so dazed you hardly notice that your skirt is still ridden up, until Sylus gently pulls it back down, smoothing the rumpled fabric with his large hands. 

The sounds of two far too familiar voices greet you when you emerge from the backstreet. 

“Are you guys finally done?” 

“Do you have any idea how long we’ve been waiting?!” 

Sylus groans, running his hand down his face, “Didn’t I tell you two to go back to base?” 

And though you’re thoroughly mortified at the idea of the twins having walked into your…situation, you can’t help but smile at the way Sylus handles Luke and Kieran. Like a father reprimanding his children.

“Well we did —”

“But then you guys didn’t come back for a while —”

“So we thought maybe something happened!” 

You shake your head at their frenzied explanation, the smile stretching on your lips as you watch the twins move their hands animatedly in their defense, “You guys are impossible.”

Luke gasps in exaggerated earnest, “How can you say that after what you’ve put us through?”

Kieran nods in agreement, shuddering dramatically, “Yeah! I feel like I just walked in on my parents…” 

“You two better watch yourselves before I confiscate your guns again,” Sylus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. But you can see the corner of his lips fighting an amused smile. 

Luke and Kieran simultaneously gasp, their reaction making it seem like Sylus was a father grounding his children, taking away their toys. You burst out into giggles, hugging Sylus’s side to keep warm as you watch the comical situation unfold. 

“There’s no need for you to do that, Sy,” you murmur, looking up at him, admiring the way the moonlight frames his face. Sylus peers down at you, his face softening, before nodding curtly.

The twins snicker. Luke uses his hand as a shield in front of his mouth to whisper to Kieran, pointing to Sylus behind it, “Whipped.”

You shoot them a smile, a deceptively innocent and sweet grin, “I’ll gladly confiscate them for you.”

There’s nearly a cartoon puff of smoke left behind when the twins scurry off, desperately clutching their holsters and begging for mercy. 

Sylus chuckles as he watches them run off, his arm slung over your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side as he presses a kiss into your forehead. 

“Truly a force to be reckoned with.” 

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.8k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, drunk mc and xavier, pre-established relationship (but not first time), public sex/voyeurism, sex on the dance floor, standing sex, fingering, dancing without leaving room for jesus, grinding, jealous!mc, not a content warning but xavier is wearing tight black shirt and jeans…….MMMMMM, unprotected sex, handjob through clothes

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: original inspo | pics (how xavier and you make out in this)

The thumping beat of club music pounds in your ears, making it difficult to hear even your own thoughts. But you really didn’t care, too intoxicated and having too much fun dancing with Tara in a throng of sweaty club goers. 

The both of you had requested today off, wanting to see an up and coming DJ at the Linkon Lounge. You’d started the night off at your apartment, getting dolled up in your wispiest lashes and outfits that made you feel strong, confident, and beautiful. You’d shared a couple shots of tequila before slipping on your heels and scrambling out of your apartment, in a fit of tipsy and hushed giggles. 

Coincidentally enough, you ran into Xavier on your way out. Your blonde-haired partner was in the apartment lobby, grabbing his mail, when you and Tara bumped into him, literally. If it weren’t for Xavier’s quick reflexes, his forearm darting out to wrap around your waist, you definitely would’ve ended the night before it began, with an ice pack in your hand rather than a fruity drink. 

And that’s when Tara had invited Xavier out with you. Truthfully, you were sure Xavier would say no. The club definitely wasn’t his scene, and he undoubtedly had plans to have a cozy night in. But you were pleasantly surprised when he blurted out ‘yes’ before Tara could even get the words completely out. Tara knew Xavier wanted to come to keep an eye on you, and she was all too happy to play matchmaker. 

You hadn’t seen Xavier for what felt like at least fifteen minutes. You assumed he went off to the bathroom, or maybe to order some more drinks. Before long, you started to worry. 

“I’m gonna go look for Xavier! Will you be okay?” you practically scream over the music, pulling the side of Tara’s face to your mouth so she can hear you better. 

“I’ll be here!” she yells, pointing at her phone, “Text me if you can’t find me!” You nod, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

You push your way out of the crowd, apologizing profusely as you’re met with the displeased looks and groans of drunk patrons.

Eventually you make your way to the edge of the dancefloor, scouring the area for Xavier. You had a difficult time focussing your eyes, stumbling about, but did your best to look for the enigmatic Hunter. 

You quickly check the line at the bar before deciding to check the bathroom. It’s then you catch the glint of familiar platinum blonde hair, Xavier’s body leaned up against the wall near the public water fountains. 

You gulp at the sight of him, his head leaned back to rest against the wall, his hands folded across his chest. The musky sweat of the enclosed space made his black fitted t-shirt cling to his biceps, his skin glistening with sweat under the pulsing LED lights. 

Even from this far away, it’s clear Xavier is drunk. His eyes are hooded with intoxication, his throat bobbing with shallow breaths.

You’re about to approach him when the groups of people in front of you shift, and you see a girl latched onto Xavier’s bicep. The two look far too cozy, Xavier not doing anything to push her off as she speaks animatedly up at him, her eyelashes batting seductively. 

It’s not like you and Xavier were dating…but it was clear there was something deeply intertwined about the two of you. That, and the fact that you’d been intimate several times. But you had to admit, you’d never made things exclusive. 

You turn on your heel, thoroughly perturbed at the sight of Xavier with someone else, making your way back to where you’d left Tara.

You’d just broken into the crowd when a firm hand catches your wrist, stopping you from pushing further. You turn back sharply, ready to throw your fist back, only to be met with the sight of Xavier, in all his flushed and handsome glory. 

“Where are you going?” 

You fight the urge to smack him, jealousy a true green-eyed monster, instead just feigning ignorance, “What? I can’t hear you!” You gesture wildly with your hands to emphasize your point. You turn away from him, starting to tug your wrist away again when he pulls you back, hard. 

He twirls you effortlessly into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you, secure and unrelenting. You look up at him in question. He leans down, and your breath catches as his lips come an inch away from yours. But he doesn’t kiss you, instead whispering into your ear. 

“I asked where you were going. Didn’t you see me?” his breath is warm against your ear, the smell of alcohol invading your senses over the pounding music.

“You looked busy. I didn’t want to intrude,” you try to keep your voice level, but you can tell it comes out petty. You hope through the deafening music, Xavier can’t hear how sulky your voice is.

Xavier looks confused in his drunken state, but shouts into your ear, his tone genuine and endearing even amidst the music, “You’re never intruding.”

You sigh at his sweet words, tiptoeing up to speak to him and trying to be nice, “Who was your friend?”

Xavier looks even more bewildered for a second, before realizing the implications of your words, a lazy smile painting his features. He holds you close, one hand on the small of your back, the other coming up to touch your cheek. 

“Not my friend. She couldn’t find her friends and wanted to wait with me.”

You roll your eyes. Xavier was too sweet and unassuming for his own good.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

Xavier chuckles, “You don’t have to be jealous, I only have eyes for you.”

Your cheeks flare amidst the flush of alcohol on your cheeks at his words, and before you can speak Xavier is leaning down to kiss you. You squeak in surprise, but respond to his lips, kissing him back. 

Xavier kisses you slowly, gently, and tenderly. You can barely even hear the music around you, the musky people bumping into the pair of you. All you can feel is Xavier, lips on yours, his hands stroking your bare skin, his hardening erection against your stomach. 

He pulls away for air, his lips swollen and wet from your passionate kiss. Your ears pound in excitement at the way Xavier looks down at you, hungry and wanting more. You hook your arms around Xavier’s neck, pulling him down until your foreheads brush against each other.

“Dance with me,” you whisper loudly against the music. Xavier’s eyes shine with excitement, and he nods, his hands gripping your waist as you start to sway to the music. 

You turn around so you can watch the flashing lights, the alcohol making them look like a light show. You feel much bolder with the liquid courage running through your veins, so you grind back into Xavier, your rear molding perfectly against his crotch. 

Xavier hardens so quickly against your movements, your body feeling so perfect against his. The alcohol makes everything feel much more fluid and raw, his body responding excitedly.

He too is fueled by the courage of intoxication, his hands roaming from your hips to your stomach, just above the fat of your cunt. He can feel the way you shiver at his touch, and he decides to dare further. 

His strong hands wander up, until they cup your breasts through your sheer dress. He rests his chin on your shoulder, whispering into your ear.

“Is this alright?” 

You crane your neck backwards to nod at him, eyes flickering to his lips. Xavier leans in to kiss you again, one hand still playing with your nipple, the other reaching up to hold your throat against him gently. The two of you kiss so passionately, so messily, that you hardly notice the crowd of equally drunk and horny people around you. 

As you kiss him, your hand comes backward to cup the back of Xavier’s head, grabbing at his soft blonde locks. Your body continues to rock sensually into him, relishing in the way his hard erection sits between the slit of your ass.

Looking up at him through your wet eyelashes, you whisper, “M-More. I want more.”

Xavier groans, looking around, trying to find the quickest way out of the crowd. But you can’t wait, too aroused by the way Xavier’s shirt clings to his muscles, the way his cock fights against his jeans, straining to be with you.

The alcohol dares you to be bolder than you normally would ever be. You grab his wrist, bringing it down to the hem of your minidress, guiding his fingers to slip under it. 

You can feel Xavier stiffen behind you, eyes darting around to make sure no one is watching. But he quickly realizes quite literally no one cares about the two of you, too focussed on the music, too focussed on their own partners, to even spare you a glance.

So he follows your lead, his hands roaming under your dress, digging into your soft thighs. You moan into his ear, your head laid back on his shoulder.

With his palm so close to your cunt, you grind right into his open hand, wanting more friction, more of him. Xavier groans at your enthusiasm, quickly forgetting about the people that are packed around you like sardines. He feels something damp against his fingers, making him all the more desperate to have you. 

“You’re wet,” Xavier whispers sluggishly into your ear, “Is this all for me?”

You groan at his words, your muscles twitching with anticipation. You try and look at him, the back of your head still resting on his thick shoulder. Your hand grasps at the back of his neck, forcing his eyes to drift down to you, the azure blues flickering to your lips before they come back to your gaze.

“Touch me, please.”

Even under the strobing lights of the club you can see Xavier’s eyes darken, his jaw tightening. His eyes flutter shut as he leans down to kiss you.

At the same time, his finger gingerly dips into your folds, moving your panties to the side. At first he just rubs up and down with his middle finger, enjoying the way you moan into his mouth. But it becomes far too unbearable, not being inside you.

He slowly dips his middle finger inside of you, hissing when your little hole sucks him in tightly. 

“Is this okay?” Xavier asks, wanting to make sure you’re alright. Your eyes dart around lazily, making sure no one can see Xavier’s hands underneath your dress. 

You nod, your eyelashes fluttering shut as Xavier starts to pump in and out of you. The energetic music makes everything feel more surreal, only the occasional jostling of people bumping into the pair of you reminding you of exactly where you are. 

Xavier’s index finger finds its way inside you, his thumb rubbing at your slippery clit. He alternates his free arm between shielding you from people pushing as they pass by, and cupping your breast through your dress. In all your writhing, your ass continues to grind against Xavier’s cock. Under his jeans, he’s leaking so profusely that your body rubs around the slick, creating a sticky mess. 

Xavier pumps inside you, enjoying the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him, the feeling of risk and wrong. 

“Please – Please don’t stop,” you pant, looking up at him with starry eyes.

The look of complete and utter bliss on your gorgeously flushed face makes Xavier bite his lip, “I’ll never stop, angel.”

You clench down hard on his fingers at the endearing pet name, one he so rarely called you. It makes you writhe against his hot and hard body, pressed firmly into you, like a puzzle piece.

With your back still turned to him, you reach your hand back to where his bulge presses into you. With careful hands, you cup the massive swell of his manhood, biting your lip when he moans into your ear, teeth grazing against your earlobe. 

You rub him enthusiastically through his jeans, enjoying the way he writhes under your touch, his cock straining through the tight restraint of his pants. 

“You’re evil,” Xavier groans, pressing kisses into your neck, trying to contain the moans he wants to make for you.

You lean your head back, staring at him through hooded eyes, “Should I stop?”

Xavier holds you tight, almost crushing you, to keep you from stopping.

“No. Never.”

You giggle, turning back to the club stage, watching the DJ perform, hands finding their way back to Xavier’s crotch. His pants are heavy and breathy by your ear, fingers scissoring in and out of you furiously.

Soon enough, the feeling of just your plush body against his isn’t enough anymore. He needs more.

With his fingers never pausing, he asks, his voice smooth and sultry, “I need to be inside of you, is that okay?” 

“Please,” you whisper huskily, grinding against his fingers, “I want you.”

You can feel Xavier shifting behind you, pulling out his cock. He feverishly pulls your panties down just slightly, so that they rest under your cheeks. He lifts your dress, enough to give him access but making sure you’re still covered. He would rather die than let anyone see your precious body. 

As the music comes to a peak, the beat building alongside your release, Xavier slips his erection into you. You’re thankful for the heavy bass of the drop because you quite literally cannot hold back the scream that rips from your lips as he pushes himself into the hilt.

One of his hands travels from your waist to under the front of your dress. When he finds your clit, he pinches down hard.

“You’re so cute,” Xavier hisses into your ear, picking up his pace, “Were you jealous earlier?”

“N-No! Don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout,” you whimper, your fingers gripping the arm he has buried between your legs. 

“Mmm,” Xavier hums, clearly not convinced, “That’s alright, Y/N. You have nothing to be jealous of, ever.”

“I-I’m not – I wasn’t!” you gasp, forcing the words together as Xavier’s cock nearly finds its way into your throat. But at this point you knew he could see right through you.

“Would travel through time and space for you,” he murmurs, words full of a boundless affection, “I only see you.”

He puts all that same adoration and passion into the way he fucks up into you, holding you protectively in place, making sure no one so much as brushes against you. 

Your moans are strangled when his cockhead angles into your g-spot, cutting off the drunken confessions on the tip of your tongue. Xavier’s girth was always something you had a hard time getting used to, and taking him standing was infinitely harder. Your inner thighs burned with the strain of how fully he stretches you out.

Xavier’s hand comes over to cover your mouth, his smile pressed against your throat. The alcohol makes Xavier irregularly chatty, his inhibitions lowered completely, “You’re so loud. Does it feel that good?”

Your eyes are rolled back mesmerized by the flashing lights, unable to discern what comes from the nightclub’s light show and what comes from the pleasure of Xavier’s poignant thrusts. You do your best to nod, your teeth sinking into Xavier’s palm to keep yourself conscious. 

You’re nearly doubled over now, your jelly legs unable to hold you up, with only the support of Xavier’s strong hand against your cunt and his other arm wrapped around your chest. He holds you up as securely as he can, his own intoxication growing having not drank any water since you’d arrived at the club. 

“Are you okay?”

Xavier’s head snaps up to see a club patron in front of you, a concerned look on his face as he  kneels down to be eye-level with you. Xavier squick readjusts to make sure you’re covered.

Your eyes widen, trying to straighten up, “F-Fine!” You nearly scream as Xavier continues to thrust into you, his movement much more conspicuous but somehow more intense. 

“Are you sure? You don’t look so good.” 

You want to be kind, but you can really only focus on the way Xavier continues to fuck you, not even caring that the good Samaritan in front of you was this close to realizing what was happening. The fact that you were still very much drunk did not help.

“N-No, I’m fine,” you squeak, eyes rolling back when Xavier hits your g-spot. You can’t see him but you just know he’s enjoying the position he has you in. He smirks in satisfaction, grinding into your ass, his thick length nestling into your every nerve. 

The man looks skeptical, especially at your unfocused hooded eyes, “Do you want some water?”

He’s about to reach out to touch you, when Xavier yanks you back, both arms wrapped protectively around you, “She’s fine.”

At Xavier’s harsh tone, the man recoils, looking up, almost as if he’s just noticing Xavier. He nods awkwardly before disappearing into the crowd. 

Xavier resumes his vigor, kissing your neck and whispering, “Mine.”

“Now look who’s jealous,” you giggle languidly, gasping when Xavier drives into you harder.

“Not jealous. It’s just the truth,” he murmurs, tilting your head back to kiss you, fingers back on your clit.

His tongue explores your mouth excitedly, your pleasures quickly reaching a peak after coming close to being caught. Your body convulses around him, wanting him to push you into the oblivion of ecstasy. 

“Always so tight,” Xavier groans, “I-I won’t last long like this…”

You squeal, your sounds drowned out by the vibrating music, “Ngh – me too Xavier.”

“G-Gonna cum,” Xavier gasps as your cunt strangles him, ripping away from your lips and panting for air. 

You crane your neck back to look at him, your eyes wide with wonder and desperation. The blissed out look on your beautiful face makes Xavier groan, his hips stuttering into his climax.

“Cum for me, Xavier,” you beg, impossibly close as well, “Want to feel you.”

Xavier shuts his eyes, his body following your every command. His cock explodes inside you, filling you with a hot warmth that spreads all the way to your fingertips and toes. Xavier doesn’t speak as he cums, only suckling hungrily at your neck, moaning and whimpering into your bruised skin.

He keeps thrusting into you, even as his cum starts to leak out of your hole, wanting you to come undone too. Even when the overstimulation starts to border on pain, he refuses to stop.

His cum makes it so there’s zero resistance, only the pure pleasure of his cock against your throbbing gummy walls. Soon, you’re cumming too, screaming into the pulsating music, your climax crescendoing with the drop of the song. The symphony of it all, the alcohol, the threat of being caught by any one of the dozens of people around you, makes it one of your most intense orgasms yet. 

Your body instinctively clenches down as you release, making you cream all over Xavier, a mix of both your arousals. Xavier watches in awe at the beautiful way you cum, for him. It’s enough to make him pump a few more ropes into you, even as his dick throbs sharply in protest. 

Xavier hugs you to his chest tightly, holding onto you for support as his cock quivers inside you. You can feel his chest heaving against your back, shifting as he slips out of you and redoes his zipper. Xavier puts your panties back into place, pressing a faint trail of kisses along your shoulders. 

Suddenly, the crowd feels suffocating and icky and you desperately want to be somewhere quieter with Xavier. You pull him out of the crowd, nudging throngs of drunk and horny patrons out of the way as you make your way to the bar. Xavier follows you sluggishly, his fingers barely closing over yours as you guide him out..

When you reach the bar, you order a water and turn to Xavier worriedly, cupping his cheeks in your hands.

“Xavier,” you urged, “Are you okay?”

Xavier’s eyes flutter open, his eyes slightly rolled back, “M’okay. Just sleepy.” You giggle, patting his face gently, realizing the haze in his eyes is a mix of intoxication and post-sex bliss. 

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, you’re always so sleepy. Especially after…”

Despite Xavier’s eyes remaining closed, he smiles and mumbles as he leans against the wall next to the bar, “Can’t help it. You drain me.”

You blush furiously, despite it being loud enough where no one can hear you two. The bartender hands you a glass of water, and you bring it up to Xavier’s lips. Xavier’s eyelids flicker open, his long eyelashes fluttering as he takes in his surroundings again, like he’s so intoxicated off the alcohol and you that he can’t make sense of his bearings.

You take his chin into your palm, tilting him up gently so the water doesn’t spill. Xavier drinks obediently, not letting a single drop go to waste. His position against the wall makes it so that you tower a few inches over him, so he has to look up at you through his eyelashes. With each gulp of the icy water he never breaks eye contact with you, staring at you with all the awe and devotion in the world.

His hands gently grip your wrists, nuzzling into your hand. The way he watches you makes you want to squirm, his eyes glimmering under the flashing lights. His azure eyes feel like they hold the weight of an entire galaxy, but in reality it’s the reflection of you that makes his eyes sparkle with the brilliance of the stars.

“Hey! There you two are!” 

You whip your head around to see Tara excitedly hurrying over to you as Xavier finishes the last of the water. 

You turn to her, “Tara! I’m sorry, I found Xavier but then we got…caught up.”

She smiles and shakes her head. There’s a knowing  mischief in her eyes, as if she doesn’t believe you, “It’s alright! I made some friends.”

She looks at Xavier. Even though you no longer hold up the empty glass to his lips, he still stares at you with the same starstruck look, a post-orgasm mist over his entire face.

“Why does he look like that?”

Your cheeks burn and you scramble to find an excuse, “Oh, he’s fine! He’s just drunk. And sleepy. Very sleepy.”

Tara grabs your chin, tilting it up in a squint, inspecting you. You’re about to ask what’s wrong, if maybe your false eyelashes came off, but when you look down at your shoulder you see exactly what she’s looking at.

A bright red, purpling bruise. In the exact shape of Xavier’s lips.

“Oh, I bet he’s sleepy.”

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.7k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, drunk zayne, needy zayne, jealous zayne, couch sex, booby sucking, pretty vanilla tbh, slightly sub zayne, zayne begs a lot, prone bone, doggy, choking, making out, cumming in coochie, mentions of birth control usage, zayne is a lightweight

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: original inspo | video | art (credit to @roschea-arts)

You stumble into your apartment, nearly tripping over the threshold as Zayne’s heavy arm slumps over your shoulder for support. You kick your heels off, briefly bending down to slip Zayne’s shoes off, before you lead him to sit on your couch.

“Sit here while I get some water for you, okay?” you whisper worriedly against Zayne’s nearly unconscious face, pressing a kiss to his heated and clammy temple. Zayne doesn’t respond, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes a shallow breath, nodding gently.  

Well, this was definitely not how you’d expected tonight to go.

When you’d invited Zayne as your date to the annual UNICORN hosted Hunters’ Association Banquet, you expected it to be a relatively uneventful night. You never expected your raven-haired surgeon boyfriend to get drunk. In fact, you’d never seen him so much as tipsy since you’d known him. 

And that was something Zayne intentionally made sure of; alcohol was not something he indulged in, ever.

Except when you’re so busy socializing all night that he gets unbearably bored, curious, and desperate for your attention.

So that’s how he ended up absolutely plastered off two cocktails. In his defense they were deceptively fruity and sweet, the rims coated in thick crystals of sugar. Truly his kryptonite. 

So when Zayne grabs your wrist while you’re talking to a fellow Hunter, spinning you gently to his hard chest, you’re completely taken aback. 

“Apologies. Can I steal my girlfriend for a moment?”

Your colleague, standing before the both of you, looks flustered at Zayne’s commanding voice, nodding fervently before he turns to leave. His face is pale, not realizing you’d brought a guest to the banquet, much less a guest that looked as handsome and imposing as Zayne. You whip around, eyebrows raised, to face the surgeon in question.

His face is uncharacteristically red, the tips of his ears burning so adorably bright. The first few buttons of his shirt had been undone, the collar disheveled, like he’d pulled at it until the enclosures gave way. What’s more, the tension that colored his words, alarming and unusual. 

“Zayne? What’s wrong?” you reach up to touch his cheek worriedly, gasping at how warm his normally chilly skin was, “Are you not feeling well?” 

Zayne releases your wrist, instead capturing your hand on his jaw with his own palm, pressing you deeper into his cheek. He practically purrs into your touch, nuzzling into your hand warmly. 

“You feel nice.” His voice is low, almost a rough whisper against the cheerful laughter of the night. 

It was very unlike Zayne to be so blatant with his affections, especially in front of either of your colleagues. In this case, the packed banquet hall of UNICORN’s annual Hunter’s banquet, filled with curious and nosy onlookers, peering at the two of you embracing in the middle of the party.

Perhaps the bustling activity became too overwhelming for Zayne, especially given that you had been pulled every which way to discuss your recent mission successes. You’d hardly had a chance to make sure he was doing okay. 

“Did you want to leave? I can —” 

Zayne pulls you closer to him until your bodies are pressed together tightly, his slender fingers holding your waist in place. You squeak in surprise, blushing as you try to ignore the prying eyes of your colleagues as Zayne strokes your cheek, fingers playing with your loose strands of hair.

“Who was that?” Zayne’s voice is deceptively calm against the top of your head as he breathes in your familiar scent, masking the demand and restraint lurking just below the surface. Your pheromones calm him down slightly, making him feel much more at ease.

“Who was who?” 

Zayne bends down to reach your ear, his normally calm and stoic voice much more shaky than usual, “That man, who was making you laugh. He seemed friendly.” 

Zayne’s words tickle your ear, making you shiver. It’s then you can smell the alcohol on him, as he leans down to whisper in your ear, the bitter scent of vodka mixing with the faint smell of his cologne. Suddenly the questions of his irregular behavior clicked. 

You lean back to look at him in shock, “Zayne?! Are you drunk?” 

Zayne looks sheepish, his hazel eyes still intense, “No. I don’t – hic – don’t think so.” 

You want to laugh at his incriminating hiccup, the surgeon undoubtedly intoxicated. That fact is only confirmed to you when you tip-toe up to peck his lips and taste the bittersweet trace of alcohol on him. 

“You were so busy, I got curious and decided to...indulge. Just this once,” Zayne admits, his eyes never leaving yours as he holds you close. 

You don’t speak, in shock at the way his words are slightly whiny and sulky all at once, something you never heard from Zayne. Zayne was never one to be jealous, and much less to actually show that jealousy. 

Zayne’s eyes lower, glowing at you in a soft regret, “I’m sorry.” 

You giggle, resting your head on his chest, arms wrapping around his waist. For that brief moment, you forget all about the watchful eyes around you, only able to focus on the man you loved before you.

“How many drinks did you have?”

He pauses, looking genuinely deep in thought as he tries to recall the night, “Two, no…maybe three.”

You grin wordlessly. Zayne never drank, so he was undoubtedly a lightweight, that was no surprise. But you would’ve thought it would take more than three drinks to knock the formidable man off his ass. 

Zayne’s jaw clenched as he admires how beautiful you look tonight, his wandering alcohol-fueled desires pushing him to want to see much more, “Would it be alright if we called it a night?”

You nod, peering up at him, “Of course, are you not feeling well from the alcohol?”

Zayne averts his eyes, clearing his throat. His neck bobs against his undone collar, his tie hanging loosely around his chest. 

“I’m alright. I just…want to be alone with you.”

By the time you arrived at your apartment, Zayne had gotten considerably more drunk, the alcohol being further absorbed into his bloodstream. 

You hurriedly bring him a cool glass of water, standing in between his thighs, over his limp body. Zayne’s head is thrown back against the cushion of your couch, already having yanked off his suit jacket and tie, the articles of clothing strewn over the arm of the seat, his neck and collar exposed. His snowy pale skin is splotched red, practically radiating a wave of heat.

Your fingers cup his sharp jaw, tilting his chin up, shifting to hold his heavy head in the palm of your hand, stroking his cheek lovingly. Zayne’s eyes flicker up to yours as you tilt him up, his glasses slightly fogged up from the heated crimson flush on his cheeks. His eyes light up when they meet yours, his eyelashes fluttering as he fights to keep his eyes open. You bite your lip, trying to keep your wide smile at bay. He looked so utterly adorable like this, looking up so affectionately obedient like this. 

You bring the glass gently up to his lips, encouraging him to drink. Zayne obeys, lips latching onto the edge of the cup as you tilt it forward, gently nudging his chin upwards with your other hand. 

His eyes flutter open at the feeling of your touch, his golden emerald irises trained solely on you as he drinks, refusing to look away. He’s so focussed on you that dribbles of water stream down his chin as he gulps down the entire glass, falling onto his collar. 

His eyes never leave yours as he chugs the entire glass of refreshing water, the whites of his eyes shining in the dim lighting of your apartment. If anyone else saw the way Zayne looked at you, they’d swear they could see hearts reflected in them as he drank from your hands. He looked at you as if his entire world spun around you, the center of his universe. 

When you pull away, Zayne’s eyes still don’t leave yours. Instead, they appear to become more intense, more fiery. 

“Zayne? Do you want more water?”

He doesn’t answer. You’re too distracted by the incensed pools of peridot when Zayne yanks you onto his lap, lips capturing yours hungrily.

–

“Ngh – Zayne!” you moan, pulling away from his demanding and bruising lips. Zayne grants you a brief break to breathe, but his fingers firmly hold your hips in place atop his erection that strains against his buckled pants, the two of you nestled deep into the couch cushion. 

He gives you a second before he’s yanking your chin towards him again, soft mouth crushed against yours in an instant. Your lips are captured gently between his teeth, his hunger for you insatiable. The taste of alcohol is still faint on his tongue, and he wants nothing more than to overwhelm himself with the taste of you. 

You’re completely engulfed by him, the ferocity of his mouth against yours, the warmth of his breath against your tongue. Zayne’s jaw alternates, side to side, trying to give himself the best access to you he can possibly get. The cool touch of metal grazes against your cheeks, his glasses pressing against you in the vigor of his embrace. He groans in frustration into your mouth, forcing himself to briefly pull away.

Before you can even question him, he’s yanking his misted up glasses off by the temples, tossing them onto your coffee table without a second glance, without a single care. His eyes are hooded with desire, his glasses no longer obstructing you from him. They shut sensually when he leans back in, lips parting as his glasses clatter louding against the table. 

He says nothing, smashing his lips into yours once again. You can vaguely feel the distinct bump of his nose, pressing into your skin, when he grabs the back of your head, pulling you harder against his all consuming hunger. 

His tongue is unbelievably tender against yours, despite how urgently and desperately he devours you. His fingers press into the divots of your arched back, his arms are completely wrapped around you, bringing you into an affectionate embrace as he continues to consume you whole. His fingers stroke up and down the half exposed expanse of your back, enjoying how soft you feel against his big hands. 

You grind down onto his cock as you try and match his passion, your panties sticking to your soaked folds. Your thighs are spread so widely against his legs, that the dampness smears against his dress pants, your dress doing little to hold anything back. 

Zayne hisses at the delicious pressure, lips leaving yours to gasp into your ear, his hot breath caressing the sensitive skin. 

“D-Don’t,” he gulps deeply, alcohol and anticipation making him trip over his words, “Unless you're willing to take responsibility for the consequences.”

You shiver at his words, leaning in to kiss his reddened earlobe, “And if I am?”

And that’s how you find yourself naked, sweaty, and writhing on your back, under the pressure of Zayne’s half naked body on top of you, his cock ravaging every inch of your poor cunt.

Zayne is a mumbling and moaning mess above you, droplets of sweat beading on his bright red temples, his damp hair dangling below his forehead. His unbuttoned dress shirt flies wildly, his thick muscles twitching every time his lower half drives into you like a madman. If it weren’t for the sweat lining your back, you’d undoubtedly be pushed around the couch like a ragdoll under Zayne’s furious passion.

You can barely see Zayne’s eyes, his dangling bangs obscuring much of his frantic face. You do your best to sit up, your chin on your chest, watching the way Zayne’s glistening body jackhammers into you, his rhythm erratic and desperate. 

Trying not to drool, you watch his abdominal muscles twitch, his briefs and dress pants hanging off his hips. He’d been so eager to bury himself inside of you that he didn’t even take off his clothing, instead pulling his cock out from under the top of the waistband of his briefs. It’s so heavy and thick with excitement that the restraint of his brief’s waistband is no match for it.  

“M’sorry,” Zayne mumbles, so slurred you barely even hear it through the clinking of his undone belt, hanging off his waist.

“Wh-what?” you pant, tugging at the sweat-soaked shirt that clings to his back. 

“Didn’t mean to get so intoxicated,” he pants breathlessly, almost sounding guilty, “I’m sorry.”

Your heart clenches at the vulnerability shining in his eyes. You know he’s not used to letting himself feel his emotions like this, to really give into his needs and desires.  

“Zayne, don’t apologize,” you whimper through the pleasure, stroking his cheek, “You’re allowed to let go sometimes.”

Your words nearly make Zayne snarl, his pelvis slapping into your ass, his hands elevating hips, your thighs wrapped tightly into his sides. 

“You’re so good to me,” he rasps, eyes rolling back as his praises make your body instinctively clench down, “I–I love you.”

“A-ahh nghn – love you s’much Zayne,” you squeal as he thrusts even deeper into you, his confession only increasing the passion he feels for you in the drunken moment. 

You’re surprised when you feel his damp hair pressing against your forehead, his cool lips brushing a soft kiss onto it, deceptively gentle compared to the way he ravages your wet heat.

“M’always thinking about you,” Zayne moans, voice muffled as he kisses your forehead over and over, unable to keep his lips, his hands, off of you. 

“I think about y’too Za–ayne,” you pant, trying to focus on forming coherent words through the shape of his erection being molded into your core. You knew just how vulnerable the fog of alcohol had made Zayne and wanted more than anything to reassure him.

But his cock stretching you out, nearly the width of a clenched fist, made that so difficult. 

“You looked – you look ravishing tonight,” he slurs, kissing down your cheek and onto your neck, “Had a hard time tonight, watching you – hic – be the most beautiful girl in the room.” 

Your chest flutters and you blush, clenching onto him, “H-Hardly.” 

Zayne’s eyebrows furrow, giving you a pointed thrust, making your breasts jiggle at the force, “Look at what you do to me.” 

His fingers cup your breast forcefully, squeezing down on your poor nipple, “You know I’m not one for jealousy…”

“But even I am not immune when you look like that, giving everyone but me your attention.” 

“Sorry, my love,” you murmur, trying your best to speak through his frantic thrusts, “You know you’re the one I come home to at the end of the day.” 

Zayne’s eyes darken with satisfaction, his fingers twirling your nipple in between them, “I suppose. But does that give you the right to let men flirt with you shamelessly all night?” 

“Zayne, they weren’t —” But apparently protesting was a mistake, because Zayne only starts to hammer into you harder.

“They were,” he growls drunkenly, letting his emotions take control for a split second, “But I can’t really blame them, not when you look like this. Not when you feel this perfect around me.”

You whine at his words, his simultaneous threats and praises making it impossible for you to think straight. 

“I-I’m soorry,” you find yourself apologizing, wanting to please Zayne, “Won’t do it again, I’ll b-be good!”

“No need to – hah – apologize, my love,” Zayne groans, “Not when I plan on reminding you exactly who you belong to tonight, all night.”

Your body convulses around him, knowing just how much stamina Zayne has, just how serious his slurred words are. Zayne’s hips falter, his body buckling into you.

“You’re s-oo tight,” he groans brokenly, letting his head fall down to your chest, “All for me, right? 

“Allll f’you! Only you!” you cry, your fingers gripping onto the back of his shirt when his teeth close over your nipple, nibbling gently. You claw at his back, desperately wanting to be able to touch his bare skin, but his white dress shirt is in the way. 

“That’s my girl,” he moans, words muffled by the way his tongue circles around your hardened peaks, suckling like he was trying to find the antidote to intoxication, “So good for me.” 

As his thrusts grow sloppier, you know he’s coming close to his end. But you’re surprised when he pulls out suddenly, leaving you feeling empty. 

“W-Why?” you demand, leaning up on your elbows in protest. Your eyes widen, almost salivating, when you see the way Zayne is gripping the base of his cock, the thick head red, angry, and ready to burst. He curses, forcing himself to take deep breaths, desperately trying to hold his orgasm back. He was learning that alcohol significantly decreased his normally endless supply of stamina. 

“Don’t want to – ngh – finish yet,” he pants, hooking his arm under your back and flipping you over so that your back faces him, your hips arched slightly off the couch. He quickly takes off his pants that are pooled by his knees, his briefs still clinging to his muscled thighs.

You squeak in surprise when you feel the wet smack of Zayne’s cock against your ass, the surgeon hissing at the painful yet arousing sensation. The sting helps to keep him from exploding right onto your beautiful body. 

“Ngh – Zaaayne!” you squeal when Zayne shoves himself back into you, parting your cheeks to give himself better access. You claw at your couch as he picks up his speed, rhythm still unsteady.

“I’m sorry,” Zayne apologizes, his words bordering on frenzied babbles as he pounds into you, his heavyset balls slapping against your clit, “M’sorry, love. Let me make it better.”

He leans down, pressing a trail of kisses down your spine, his pelvis rippling against your rear. His veiny forearms cage you into the couch, his foot lifting to step onto the cushion, right by your waist. With his leg raising as leverage, he can truly jackhammer into you.

Zayne goes absolutely feral in this position, his fingers coming up to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging gently as he bounces up and down on your ass. The sounds of skin against skin, drunken moans, and moist squelches resounds like a symphony in the early morning lighting of your apartment. 

His grasp tightens in your hair, his other hand kneading the plush of your ass as it ripples against his thrusts. His voice lowers, throwing his head back with a moan, “Been waiting all night to have you like this.”

“Oh-oh God!” you cry when he thrusts into you, particularly hard and deep, making you see stars, “Zayne I-I can’t – I’m so close!”

Zayne hoists you onto all fours, gently lifting your upper body by your neck so that you’re pressed firmly against him with your knees holding you up. He kneels behind you, wrapping one arm around your waist while the other secures your neck against his chest.  

“Me too, angel,” Zayne pants into your ear, his breath hot and moist. You can feel the truth in his words, his thighs shaky against yours, his thrusts erratic. 

“Please, let me cum in you,” Zayne rasps. 

“When have I ever denied you?” you respond. Zayne came inside you nearly every time you two were intimate, ever since you’d started birth control. 

“It’s a waste, if it’s not inside you,” Zayne slurs, “You’ll take it, right?”

When you don’t respond, too wrapped up in the bliss of it all, Zayne’s hand descends to pinch your nipple. The power of his thrusts, the tease of his hands, his aura. He commands authority,

“Tell me you’ll take it all, for me.”

“I will, I will! P-please Zayne, give it to me!”

Zayne groans, grip tightening against your body, hugging you for dear life, “That’s my girl, that’s it, just like that. 

Zayne has always been vocal, but his drunken ramblings have taken it to another level. You clench down, ready to come undone to the sound of his filthy praises. 

Zayne is close behind you, hands kneading your breasts, balls slapping against your clit, “It’s coming Y/N, take it. Take it for me, please.”

You scream in response, cunt spasming around the last of his messy ruts. Zayne’s own strangled groans mix with the sound of wet flesh slapping against each other. You can feel every beautiful ribbon of white hot cum painting your insides, coating every inch of your waiting womb.

Zayne’s skin often felt ice-cold, but his cum always came out so hot and heedy. And now, with the flush of alcohol still clouding his circulation, his milky ropes of seed nearly made you feverish.

Zayne slumps against you, his body spent, drained bone-dry. The weight of him against your quivering muscles is too much, and your thighs give out, sending you crashing into the couch. He catches you before you can slam face-first into the carpeted floor.

He sets your limp body gently into the couch, shrugging off his white button-up.

“Zayne,” you murmur groggily, savoring the image of his muscles peaking through his open shirt, “Come cuddle.”

The corner of his lip twitches, “I will, sweetheart. Let me clean you up first.”

Using the clean inside of his shirt, he carefully wipes off the slick that collects at your inner thighs, before it can pool onto the couch. Your legs are putty in his hands, Zayne cleaning you with the utmost care and tenderness. 

When he’s done, he settles beside you on the couch, shifting you so that your neck rests on his forearm. He holds you close with one arm, the other drawing lazy circles into your stomach.

Zayne turns his head to the side, pressing a kiss into your temple, “Thank you. For taking care of me tonight.” 

You can tell by Zayne’s calm and steady tone that he’s sobered up quite a bit from the orgasm, the control returning to his deep timbre. 

You giggle, nuzzling deeper into his arm, the hairs of his underarm tickling your shoulder, “I hardly did anything.” In the comfortable silence, your eyes start to flutter closed.

“You did more than you know,” Zayne whispers, the tender smile in his voice unmistakeable. You simply nod, muttering incoherently as you fall into a deep and sated slumber.

“You are everything.”

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.9k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, car sex, publix sex/slight voyeurism, sex while pulled over in da passenger seat, bottom raf, riding, face sitting, rafayel is a MUNCH, oral f!receiving, jealous raf, drunk rafayel, protective rafayel, somewhat mentions of violence, unprotected sex, no pull out ever

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: original inspo | pics 1 | pics 2 (both rafayel's car)

The night road ahead of you is peacefully calm, the drive back to Rafayel’s house a peaceful and scenic trip. There's very few cars beside yours, well Rafayel’s, on the main roads back, likely because it was close to 2am. 

You were honestly having way too much fun driving Rafayel’s car, thoroughly enjoying the purr of the beautiful Benz. You didn’t have the opportunity to drive many cars, let alone a Gran Turismo.

Your fingers tap gently along the rim of the steering wheel, admiring the elegant LED lights that kept you awake. Rafayel had the car’s interior lights set to a blushed lavender color, ever since you’d said it was your favorite setting. It reminded you of the pink in his cotton candy eyes. 

Your eyes flicker to your right, briefly checking on Rafayel as he groans beside you in the passenger seat. 

He sat with his arm propped up against the passenger side window, his head resting on his palm. His breathing was still shallow, his eyes closed in a restless and light sleep. The alcohol was no doubt making it difficult for him to rest. 

You sigh to yourself, trying to think back to how the night had ended disastrously with him so damn drunk. 

Rafayel had invited you as his date to one of his endless art exhibits, a few cities over from your home. Only this one was special.

When they’d unveiled his starring piece, a beautiful oil painting on a massive canvas that nearly reached the ceiling, you nearly fell to your knees.

Because Rafayel had painted the most exquisite portrait of you. 

You, surrounded in ribbons of coral and seaweed, the most colorful globs of intricate paint surrounding you, a mosaic of sea glass. You, dancing in the endless sea of pastel turquoise. You, in Lemuria. His home. 

Rafayel had painted you countless times before, you were his muse after all. Even if he never admitted that openly to you. But this was different, he’d never so openly shared you with this world before. Never wanted to open himself up like this, to anyone, to you.

It was beautiful as it was magnificent. It made you feel like the most beautiful person in the world, more gorgeous than you’d ever felt in your entire life. The way he’d put paint to canvas and created literal magic.

It appeared others thought so too. All the patrons attending the gala that night clamored around the oil canvas, press snapping photos, writers grabbing at Rafayel, trying to get anything for their tabloids. 

It was nothing out of the norm. You’d become quite used to the glitz, glamor, and madness that came with being his girlfriend. 

What was unexpected, was the attention you got, as the subject of the painting. 

The people who wanted a piece of you, the stunning woman in Rafyel’s newest piece. Rafayel did his best to keep you comfortable, shooing away the throws of people trying to get even a morsel of anything from you. 

“Rafayel. It’s okay. I can handle it,” you give him your best reassuring smile, “Go mingle with your guests, I’ll be fine.” 

Rafayel looks reluctant, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, unwilling to let go. Eventually you convince him, with the promise of a reward later if he listened, to go speak to the serious sponsors and buyers that demanded his attention.

“Never should’ve painted that damn thing,” he muttered as he walked off, looking back at you as Thomas dragged him off. He should’ve known sharing you with the world would have driven him insane. 

So you spent the rest of the night trying to be as sociable as possible, not wanting to upset any of Rafayel’s guests. After a few hours you finally found a free moment, finding yourself in front of the portrait once again. Most of the people had cleared out, giving you a chance to really admire the masterpiece. 

Rafayel was undeniably talented, maybe the most gifted artist in the world, you’d always thought so. But the way he painted you here was more than just art. 

It was his heart on a canvas. And his heart, his entire world, was you. Every fiber of his soul, woven together into a tapestry of lustrous colors, each one depicting a different memory.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

You turn your head to the stranger’s voice, coming face to face with a handsome man, clad head to toe in the most luxurious brands. He stands so uncomfortably close to you that you can smell the nauseating cologne wafting off of him. And yet it’s his aura that makes your skin crawl uncomfortably.

He fills in your awkward silence, eyes looking you up and down, “Definitely not as beautiful as the real thing.”

You really don’t know how to respond to the stranger’s boldness, in shock at how forward he’s being. Your relationship with Rafayel was no secret, the paparazzi having photographed the two of you publicly many times. And you’d walked into the gala on Rafayel’s arm. 

“Thank you,” you say curtly, offering a small smile, trying to return your attention to the display. 

“I’m going to buy it, you know. And then maybe after, I can buy you a drink?” when his hand lands on your bare shoulder you flinch back, ready to resort to your tactical training. The thought of this man buying a portrait of you makes you nauseous.

Before you can give him a piece of your mind, he’s falling backward with a surprised yelp.

“Hands off the art,” an all-too familiar voice snarls, as he stands between you and the man. You’re too shell shocked to realize Rafayel is clearly drunk, his charismatic voice drawling muddily. 

“Don’t touch me,” the man snaps, “I bought this piece, I legally own it.” The way he says ‘piece’ makes your blood boil, the misogyny dripping off his words.

Rafayel, drunk as he might be, catches on too. Fire burns in his eyes, matching the heat of his Evol. Thomas isn’t far behind, looking at you with desperation on his face, begging you to help him defuse the situation. Rafayel was spontaneous enough as it was, there was no telling the lengths he’d go to when he was intoxicated, especially when you were involved. 

You reach your hand out, grasping Rafayel’s fingers and gently pulling him back towards you.

“He’s not worth it,” you whisper when Rafayel’s head snaps to you, his eyes softening instantly when they land on you. Rafayel spares the man, rubbing his wrist with a grimace, a glance. You wrap your arm around Rafayel’s waist tugging him close to you and trying to lead him out of the nearly empty gala.

Rafayel takes a deep and shaky breath, before nodding slightly. As he turns to leave with you, he glances back to the man and Thomas, his chin raised.

“It’s not for sale.”

“B-But I already wrote the check,” the man blew up, face red with anger and disbelief. 

Rafayel smiles, a fake and genuinely terrifying smile, “I don’t care how many checks you write. You’re never looking at her again.”

It’s enough to even send chills down your spine. 

With those words, Rafayel exited the gallery with you on his arm, you rubbing soothing circles into his back. It was rare Rafayel got full blown drunk; you’d seen him tipsy numerous times, but he was always careful not to cross the line into completely losing control of his inhibitions. 

As he slumped in the passenger seat of his car, he briefly explained just how he found himself so shit-faced.

“Everyone was taking your time,” he slurred, breathing heavily. The alcohol made him bluntly honest, much more so than he’d normally be about something like this. 

“Oh, Rafayel…” you giggle, bending over to latch his seatbelt in, “I know, it’s usually you getting the attention, it must have been weird to share it. I’m sorry.”

Rafayel scoffs, his head resting on the window, “S’not why I was upset. I don’t like sharing you.”

You bite your lip to fight the smile that threatens to sneak its way onto your face, “Why didn’t you just come back?”

“Was trying to distract myself. Didn’t want to disappoint you,” he mutters, his eyes closed and his arms folded across his chest as you start the car, “I know you wanted me to talk to the annoying old farts.”

And then he promptly dozed off, like a precious little baby.

You were about 15 minutes from his place when Rafayel stirred awake from the mere feeling of your hand on his thigh. It was far too dark to see the tent growing in his pants, all from your fingers stroking his sensitive thighs, even when he was unconscious.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, giving him a smile when you see the movement in the corner of your eye, “You feeling okay? I have water in my bag.”

“P-Pull over,” Rafayel slurs, still clearly drunk. His eyes are glued to your palm on his leg. Not even he knows why the innocent touch has him so worked up and feral.

“What?!” you exclaim in a mix of disbelief and shock, “We’re so close to home –”

“Pull over,” he urges you again, the strain between his legs growing painful, “Please.”

His urgency makes you nervous, and you quickly find a secluded area you can pull over, turning your hazards on when you do so.

“Do you need to throw up?” you turn to him worriedly, grasping his thigh tighter in your fingers and rubbing soothingly, unsure of what to do. 

Rafayel groans at your unknowingly innocent actions, rubbing his hand down his face, which only makes you worry more. 

You undo your seatbelt so you can sit on your knees and face him, your hands still rubbing up and down his thighs, hoping to make him feel better.

Rafayel takes that opportunity to undo his own seatbelt, hoisting you out of your seat and onto his lap. You try to muffle your scream as he effortlessly carries you onto his lap, cramped between his body and the front dash. It always surprised you just how powerful Rafayel’s body was despite his toned and slender build.

“Rafayel!” you squeal as he sits you on his lap, “What are you doing?!”

He doesn’t speak, only looking up at you with big wet eyes. He spreads your thighs so that they cage his own legs, his hands resting on your sumptuous hips. Despite his strong and possessive hold, you’re still able to twist around to grab your tote bag, pulling out a plastic water bottle.

“Don’t need to throw up,” he mumbles, looking up at you through his long and dark eyelashes, “Jus’ need you.” 

With his hand on your back he pushes you down until your chest is flush with his, capturing your lips in a feverish all-consuming kiss. The bitter and sharp taste of alcohol is still strong on his tongue, his lips impatiently messy and insistent. Rafayel rocks up into you as he loses himself into your embrace, his very clear and prominent erection begging for attention. 

“R-Raf!” you pull away, even at his whiny refusal, hands still tugging at the clothing at your hips, “Did you really make me pull over for this?” Your eyes dart around nervously, making sure there’s no cars around you. But it wasn’t necessary, Rafayel’s windows were so tinted that even if you had your nose pressed to the glass you wouldn’t be able to see much. 

“Come on, at least drink some water while we’re pulled over,” you untwist the cap of your reusable water bottle. 

“No,” Rafayel pouts at you, the rose flecks in his eyes glow as he looks up pleadingly at you, “I don’ want water, wanna kiss you.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite the risky and precarious situation you find yourself in. That situation being Rafayel’s very excited crotch. 

“Don’t laugh,” Rafayel broods, his bottom lip jutted out, shiny with a sheen of saliva, “I wanted to be with you all night, ‘specially when everyone was getting your attention.” He presses his chin onto your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your body wash and pressing wet kisses into your neck.

“Wan’ my reward now,” Rafayel slurs, his wandering fingers hooking under the thin strap of your evening dress, slipping it off your shoulders.

“You’re drunk Rafayel,” you reason firmly, even though your body is already betraying you. Your thighs squirm, widening instinctively for him, excitement pooling at the apex of your legs. 

“Sooo?” Rafayel’s head fall backs onto the headrest, “Just give me a taste, please?”

You want to keep a level head, deny his insane request, but his hard body against your pliable one makes you desperate for more. Besides…the windows are almost completely blacked out and you were in a very secluded upper-end neighborhood, where all the homes had nearly miles of yard between them. 

“Fine…” you concede, “But only if you drink some water.”

Rafayel’s eyes practically radiate, nodding eagerly and raising his lips to the cool bottle. His sudden willingness is comical, and you smile fondly at him as you help him to drink. Rafayel’s fingers squeeze against your waist, your soft skin making him grow thicker and hotter by the second.

His body unconsciously grinds against you as he drinks the water, eyes open wide with a faux innocence, staring right at your heated and flushed cheeks. He’s so focussed on admiring the irresistible look of desire on your face as he relentlessly rocks into you, that he doesn’t even feel the cold streams of water trickling down his shaky chin. 

His fingers trace delicate and intricate shapes into your waist, eyes hooded at the feeling of your heat against his throbbing member. His eyes never leave yours as he finishes the last of the water, looking up at you through his thick purple eyelashes. His eyes shine brightly, the pinks in them accentuated by the LEDs of the car, watching you with a vast sea of desire. 

Just as you remove the bottle from his lips, Rafayel lowers the angle of the passenger seat, as far down as it can possibly go.

You shriek in panic, clutching onto Rafayel as the chair dips suddenly, limbs flailing wildly. Rafayel takes that opportunity to lift your thighs, hoisting you nearly to the top of the passenger seat until you’re kneeling with his face in between your thighs.

“R-Rafayel!” you yelp, gripping onto the leather backseat for balance, thighs squirming at the feeling of his warm breath fanning against your exposed lips. The slick that had pooled in your panties makes you much more sensitive to his heated pants. Practically dripping onto his face. 

“You promised a taste,” he mumbles, all consumed by the way you glisten against the dim indoor lights of his car. He doesn’t let you get another word in before he’s pulling your panties to the side and licking a fat strip up your slit, all the way to your clit.

“Ngh – Raf!” If it weren’t for his strong hands on your thighs you would’ve crushed him with the way your knees buckled and you nearly fell on top of him.

Rafayel doesn’t speak, only a filthy string of wet slurps and strung out moans audible, this tongue writhing against you, positively starved. The way he makes out with your cunt makes your muscles melt, your body nearly melding into the seats.

Rafayel can feel your shaky legs struggling to keep you up and he pulls your hips down, guiding you to sit on his face. In your surprise, you fall completely, a choked sob of bliss ripping from your mouth when Rafayel completely engulfs your weeping cunt into his mouth.

You're a babbling mess of the most lewd cries, your thighs clenching unbearably at the pleasure Rafayel’s tongue forces into you. You try not to put too much weight on Rafayel, but he only pushes you down, wanting you to crush his skull. 

“Tastes so sweet,” Rafayel moans into you, the vibrations of his praises reverberating through every single one of your nerve endings. As he eats you with a relentless excitement, his eager nose strokes along your folds, gathering your arousal with every stroke.

“And it’s all for me,” he whines in the most pussy drunken voice you’ve ever heard from him, likely from the heavy intoxication, “No one else's, just mine.”

You can tell he’s still reeling from the encounter at the gala, with the man who’d wanted to buy the piece he’d painted for you. Just reassuring himself of things he already knew to be fact.

“And you’re mine,” you gasp through the sparks in your vision, wrought with pleasure. You do your best to keep your nails out of the expensive leather upholstery, tearing at Rafayel’s skin instead.

He grunts with the sting of your scratches, the pain fueling his excitement, which he funnels into the way he devours you, slurping up every single drop that pools down your lips. 

With one hand on your thigh, he palms himself through his dress pants, jerking furiously.

It isn’t long before he yanks you away with a desperate gasp, carrying you back down onto his lap, “Need to be inside you now, ‘kay?”

The ears ring with the whiplash, the pleasure being yanked away suddenly, staring at Rafayel with dumbfounded wide eyes. You barely register when he takes his bare cock out, rubbing it up and down your absolutely drenched folds, your dress bunched to your waist.

He holds himself firm in his fingers by the base, squeezing down as he rubs up and down your glistening slit, peering up at your rosy cheeks. 

“Baby?” he huffs, sounding faraway, “Can I?”

You barely even register your nod, your body moving on its own volition. Rafayel grins, lining himself up and not wasting another second before sinking himself into you, his favorite place in the entire world.

Your face is stuck in a perpetual oh as Rafayel sinks all the way into you, his veins especially prominent in his intoxication. You can almost feel them throbbing as they squeeze against your tight walls, his hips flattering when he feels himself hit the soft walls of your g-spot.

“Ngh – I love you, Y/N,” Rafayel moans, his arms coming up to wrap around your back, pulling you tightly against his torso.

You nuzzle your head into Rafayel’s chest, needing the support as he starts to rock into you, bouncing your body off his lap with the strength of his thighs. 

“O-Oh God,” you whimper into his chest, letting him man handle you against himself, too overwhelmed by the way he’d made you feel with his tongue, and now his cock. 

‘J-Jus’ like that, baby,” Rafayel mewls into the crown of your head, taking in deep lungfuls of your scent. His arms are wrapped so tightly around you that you almost can’t breathe, but you only want him to hold you harder, tighter. 

You can’t even be bothered to care that you’re fucking in such a public area, the risk of getting caught just a faraway thought. The only thing you can find yourself caring about is the way Rafayel drives deeper into your guts, forcing you to look at him as he buries himself into you.

“Hah – pretty girl,” he breathes out, his body slowing. You realize the alcohol must be making him tired, and you force your weight onto your knees. 

“L-Let me, Raf,” you whisper, sitting up as much as you can until your head brushes against the car roof. Rafayel watches you with wondrous eyes as you begin to ride him.

“Oo-oh shiit,” he groans, mesmerized by the way you roll your body into him, “You're so perfect, Y/N. Just like that, please don’t s-stop.”

You whimper, biting your lip and trying to control the way his cock has your body screaming for release. You lean back onto his knees, one hand grappling at the window for leverage, the other cupping his balls. 

Your hand is met with the wet condensation of the frosted window, the mixture of yours and Rafayel’s torrid breaths fogging up the interior completely. It’s such a sensual sight that you clench down on Rafayel, thinking about the passion of this moment, in the confined space of his favorite car. 

Rafayel lets out the most delicious string of moans and expletives as you gently massage his balls in your fingers, fondling them delicately, “Oh God, that feels so good, you feel – angh – amazing.”

You throw all your energy into rolling your hips against Rafayel’s pelvis, wanting to use him until you were utterly spent.

“So big Raf,” you wail, struggling to keep up a rhythm as his size splits you in half, “I-I’m soo clo-ose.”

“Fuuck, me too,” Rafayel grunts, his neck craning back, back arching slightly at the way you ride him so filthily, “Don’t stop, I’m almost – ngh – there.”

His lewd words are your last straw, your hips stuttering as your cunt coils tightly around his length, your body orgasming so intensely through your tightly shut eyes. You desperately hope no one is nearby, because the muffled screams coming from the inside of the car were sure to be audible. 

“You love me, right?” Rafayel slurs, his eyes wet and on the verge of coming undone, needing your words to be the final push.

“I love you Raf,” you gasp brokenly, still bouncing on his lap, “Soo-oo much!”

Your vice grip on him has Rafayel seeing stars of his own, the blinding pleasure signaling his own release. As he cums, he brings you back to his chest in a heated embrace, babbling into your mussed hair.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” comes his strangled mantra, the words overflowing from his wet puffy lips, “My Queen.”

You whimper as Rafayel fills you with rope after rope of his hot seed, it already beginning to seep out of your hole and down his still hard length. He gives you everything he has, the soul nearly being sucked out his body through his cockhead.

Rafayel digs his nails into your back as you overstimulate him with your languid thrusts, urging you to stop. 

“N-No more,” he whines, holding you in place, “You’re trying to kill me.”

You still your hips with a chuckle, listening to his rapidly pounding heart, “I would never.”

Rafayel strokes your hair, holding you against his body, his cock softening and slipping out of you. You wince at the feeling of how much dampness leaks out of you, sitting up and trying to cup yourself so it doesn’t leak all over Rafayel’s seats.

But Rafayel holds you back down, “No. Stay.”

“Rafayel, it's going to ruin the seats!”

“I don’t care,” he mumbles, his voice still sluggish from the alcohol, nuzzling his face into your chest as he hugs you to keep you from moving.

“You care, you love this car. I love this car,” you whine, trying to pull away and keep the slick from spilling everywhere, but he doesn’t relent. 

“Just say you love the car more than me,” he sulks, his bottom lip protruding. 

You glare at him, before deciding to tease him and play along, “I love the car more than y–”

Rafayel covers your mouth with his hand, squinting at you, “If you finish that sentence I’ll scream.”

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[retro-memo]

When you're working on a wip and you're down to the last three lines but they the words aren't being words

[starryhyuck]

love 119. (m) — PATREON EXCLUSIVE

pairing: rapper!mark x afab!reader

words: 4.3k+

summary: the nerd you fucked in college is hot now???

genre: smut, fluff

warnings: loss of virginity, dubcon, rough sex, breeding kink, mentions of cuckolding, reader fucks yuta in a flashback, reader’s hands get tied with a belt, pussy licking, fingering, degradation, praising, use of a vibrator, double penetration with a vibrator, squirting, some yandere vibes

this fic is exclusive to both tiers on my patreon, which you can access here! below is a tumblr preview

“Welcome, welcome everyone! We have a fantastic show for you tonight,” Donghyuck says with his signature smirk planted on his face. He spots you and Renjun in the crowd and blows an air kiss to the man next to you. Renjun scrunches his nose and pretends to gag. “The one and only Mark Lee is here, and he’s ready to put on the best fucking show your sorry asses will ever see!”

Huh. That name sounds familiar to you.

The crowd gets more fired up, shot glasses raised in the air wildly. They start chanting the performer’s name.

“Mark Lee! Mark Lee! Mark Lee!”

“That’s what I’m talking about. For anyone who would like a signed CD or merch at the end of the show, come find me. But for now, give it up for the one, the only, the extraordinary Mark Lee!” Donghyuck screams, sending every person in the bar into a rumble of hollers.

A man slides onto the stage as Donghyuck jumps off, beanie tucked neatly around his head. He’s wearing a hoodie that’s also two sizes too big, accompanied by a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants. He’s playing with a microphone in his hand before the music switches on and he’s instantly rapping to the beat.

But you can’t focus on that. The only thing you can focus on is his face, which is ringing a tiny bell in your head.

Then, it clicks.

“Fuck,” you curse, gripping Renjun’s arm. “Renjun, I have to get the fuck out of here!”

“What?” He yells back at you. “You heard Jeno! Either get dick or walk home alone!”

You throw a hand over your face exasperatedly. Your eyes search for the nearest exit, but with just your luck, the sounds of Mark’s rapping grow closer to you, indicating he’s moving towards your side of the stage. You scan the rows of people behind you, wondering how effective you could be shouldering past them and beelining for the exit.

You’re way too late, however, when a pair of sneakers land directly in front of your face. You wince when you look up as Mark towers over you, still spitting bars into the microphone. His eyes have shifted into something more predatory, scowling while he gazes down at you.

Renjun’s head snaps back and forth between you and Mark. “Do you know him?”

“Um, maybe a little,” you awkwardly whisper to him.

want to read the rest? access both tiers on my patreon here!

[scoonsalicious]

A Scoonsalicious Masterlist

All fics are 18+ Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here. I exclusively write for Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader at this point in time, for maladaptive self-indulgent purposes.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

Individual fics will contain individual warnings.

Bucky Barnes

(Fluff 💖) (Smut ❤️‍🔥) (Angst 💔) (Horror 🖤) (Violence ❤️‍🩹) (AU 💞) (1k+ Notes 🏆)

Series

⚜️ The Pocket MCU: ❤️‍🩹 A series of miniseries and one-shot prequels featuring the MC from Unwanted, integrated into the existing narratives of the MCU films. ONGOING (Updated 5/20/24)

⚜️ Unwanted: ❤️‍🔥💔🏆When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn't be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust. COMPLETED 155.4k words (Epilogue Posted 4/27/24)

⚜️ Post-Unwanted: ❤️‍🔥💔💖 A series of miniseries and one-shot sequels set between Unwanted and Unbroken. ONGOING (Updated 7/11/24)

⚜️ Unbroken: An Unwanted Sequel: ❤️‍🔥💔💖‼️ It's a secret, but doesn't that title sound ridiculous?! BRAINSTORMING

One Shots

⚜️ Like a Fairy Tale: 💔💖🏆 Dating Bucky Barnes had been like living a fairy tale, but as he distances himself from you and your relationship, you come to the realization that maybe fairy tales aren't meant to come true. 3.4k words (Posted 3/4/24)

⚜️ Your Choice: ❤️‍🔥💖💞You're minding your own business at home one evening when local police Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes comes knocking on your door. Someone's reported a crime being committed on your property, and the sergeant can either bring you down to the station, or get you off with a warning... it's your choice. 4.3k words (Posted 3/5/24)

Series On Hiatus

⚜️ With Friends Like These...: ❤️‍🔥💔Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntyre never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You. ON HIATUS (Updated 6/17/24)

Upcoming

⚜️ Hunted ❤️‍🔥🖤❤️‍🩹 A plane crash leaves you stranded in the Canadian wilderness with the one person who can't seem to stand you: Your mission partner, Bucky Barnes. You'll have to work together and put your differences aside in order to survive and get rescued. Only, the two of you aren't alone; someone, or something, is watching you from the woods. WRITING

⚜️ Boys of Summer ❤️‍🔥💔💞 Every summer, the wealthy Barnes family escapes the heat of the city to their beach house on the New England coast, and every year for as long as you can remember, your father has been the caretaker of their property. Now your father's gone and you haven't seen Bucky Barnes since you two spent a summer night together when you were eighteen. Four years later, Bucky's returned with a slew of college friends in tow for the ultimate beach summer to celebrate his college graduation, and his recent engagement. PLANNING

[here2bbtstrash]

crybaby (explicit)

genre: all pwp all smut babeyyyyyy

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: your boyfriend has always mixed his pleasure with pain.

word count: 4.3k

contains: explicit sexual content!!!!!! like that's the whole fic lmao 😵‍💫 established relationship, marathon sex, wrist restraints/bondage, cocky yet eager sub!jungkook 🥵, soft dom!reader but she can be a lil tough, clothed tit play, objectification, she calls him bunny which i think is cute 🥺, spitting, dick riding, unprotected sex, fingers in mouth, humping/grinding, jk has a nipple piercing 🙈, overstimulation/multiple orgasms - for both of them hehe, vibrator use, jungkook (and reader!) pushing himself to his limits bc..... he's jungkook, he cries 🥲, reader finds it hot 👀, a lottttt of sweat & cum lol, cum licking/eating, blowjob, maybe some subspace if you squint, winners never quit 💪, talk of coming dry at the end, jk is kind of a little shit lmaooooo - alright i think that's it 😩

A/N: not me barely managing to get this up before the ticket sales start 😅 happy hunger games to y'all who have codes!!! this fic is a birthday gift to my love, my angel, my cunning linguist @moni-logues 💜 HAPPY (yesterday) BIRTHDAY bb, can't wait to marry you on our first date, it is the joy of my life to build castles in the air with you~

and god bless jk for his lives the past few weeks bc they breathed so much life into this regular degular "sub!jk" fic idea. i'm v obsessed with his personality and the way he always pushes himself "just a little more", whether it's in staying up til 5 am singing karaoke on his couch or giving his absolute all in a workout. just so in love with our bunny tbh, so i hope you enjoy this spicy version of him too!! 🥰

read on AO3!

~*~

You know your boyfriend has always mixed his pleasure with pain.

He stays up late even when he’s exhausted, likes to do his workouts to failure, could spend hours in a tattoo session with the needle pressed to his skin and his bones humming from the buzz. Always holding out for as long as he can, always wanting just a little bit more before he calls it quits, even when it’s hard, even when it hurts. Because he wants to test his limits.

And today, you want to test them, too.

That’s why you text him to meet you in the bedroom, let him find you in nothing but one of his oversized Carhartt shirts, kneeling up on the bed as you affix a pair of purple silk restraints to the headboard.

There’s the soft creak of the mattress from Jungkook’s added weight, and you feel the heat of him as he crowds you from behind, hands dragging up the curve of your hips and taking the hem of your borrowed shirt with it.

“This was the emergency, huh?” The low murmur of his voice is chased by the cool touch of his lip ring as he drags his mouth up the nape of your neck. A blossom of arousal starts to unfurl in your core. “Wanted to use these?”

“Yeah,” you answer, feigning nonchalance as you give the silk a firm tug to test that it holds. Satisfied, you let yourself sink back into Jungkook’s touch, dropping your head against his shoulder and smiling when he leans down to brush his lips over yours. He hums a soft little sound into your mouth.

You cup your hand to the nape of his neck when you pull away to finish the thought. “Thought we could try them on you.”

The words are seemingly all your boyfriend needs to hear; he drops down onto the mattress so hard that he bounces a little. You can’t help but laugh at the way he scrambles to strip out of his sweatshirt, like he’s being timed, then hurriedly centers himself on the pillows, eyes glinting dark with desire.

When you first started talking to Jungkook, everything about him made you expect that he would be the one to call the shots. The good looks, the tattoos and piercings, the muscles— and definitely the motorcycle. But once you’d sat across from him at dinner on your first official date, only to watch him blush and fumble his way through a conversation, you started to suspect that maybe he preferred to follow rather than lead.

That thought was certainly confirmed the next time you saw him out in public: it’d been a full two weeks since your first date, with nothing but radio silence between you since. You were admittedly maybe a little too drunk when you spotted him out with his friends at the same bar you’d been dragged to by yours— drunk enough to have no problem walking right up to him to read him for filth, in front of all of his friends, for ghosting you.

Except he’d just blinked those big brown eyes up at you, mouth dropped open in disbelief, and quietly admitted that he’d been waiting all this time for you to text him.

One of his friends had clapped him on the back, laughing loudly as he corroborated Jungkook’s confession. “He’s been having midnight karaoke pity parties because he never heard from you. Please take this boy out again before his neighbors have him evicted!”

That night told you everything you needed to know about how the dynamics in your relationship would work out. That if you wanted something, there was a very good chance Jungkook wanted it, too.

Which is why it doesn’t surprise you that your boyfriend is already sprawled out half-naked on the bed beneath you, arms folded behind his head in a way that makes his biceps bulge, dangerously attractive.

His mouth pulls into a cocky, flirtatious grin. “Ah, so you wanna use me?”

“I do,” you murmur, straddling your thighs over his torso and leaning up to take the smooth purple silk between your fingers. He offers you one hand before you even have to ask for it, and takes advantage of the other’s last few minutes of freedom to paw at you over your shirt. His tattooed fingers seek out your breast and squeeze, his thumb flicking lazy strokes over your nipple.

You tug the knot of the restraint to tighten it, then look back just as Jungkook closes his lips around the clothed bud of your breast. The rough drag of cotton against your sensitive skin makes you hot all over, your nipple stiffening easily at the rub of his insistent tongue.

“How’s that? Too tight?”

He smirks with your tit still in his mouth, soaking a wet spot into your shirt, teeth scraping gently. “Could be tighter.”

“You are such a show-off,” you huff, more endeared than aggravated as you redo the knot, this time as tight as you can manage. Jungkook pulls against it teasingly, but it does actually seem to hold him in place, and you can feel a dull thud between your legs at the flex of his muscles on full display, the image of him already half-helpless beneath you.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook,” he says, as if in explanation, giving your breast a final playful jiggle before you tug his other hand off to tie it up, too.

“Well, Jeon Jungkook,” you retort with a smirk and a grunt of effort as you lean over him to tug the knot tight. You glance down to find him already using the leverage of his restraints to pull himself up so that he can continue to nuzzle his face into your shirt between your tits, abdominals shaking a little from the effort, undeterred despite the loss of both of his hands.

You take his jaw in your grip and scoot yourself further down his body, dipping in to plant a kiss on his soft lips.

“Are you gonna be a good little toy for me?”

“Uh-huh,” he grunts, and you enjoy the tease of hovering just past where he can reach, watching him strain up toward your mouth to seek another kiss and fall ever so short.

You can feel arousal already dripping from your folds as you slide further down the bed, slipping off from on top of Jungkook to easily rid him of his joggers and briefs. His dick smacks against his stomach, thick and hard; wet, too, at the pretty brown tip. You toss his clothes over the edge of the bed, then strip your own shirt to follow before lowering yourself between his spread legs.

The muscles in Jungkook’s thighs tighten with visible anticipation as you hover above his cock, letting the heat of your breath fan out over him, not unlike the warm afternoon air leaking in through the cracked bedroom window, the first taste of spring. You can hear the wet clicks of Jungkook’s tongue in his mouth.

“Easy, bunny,” you murmur, and then you work up a mouthful of saliva and spit it right onto the head of his dick.

He hisses in a breath at the splatter of it, then gasps a soft little sound when you take him in your hand to slip your fist down the length of him. That’s Jungkook all over; always so eager, always so sensitive.

“What do you think?” you muse, your mouth ticking up as you feel Jungkook’s hips roll into your grasp. “Think it’s ready for me, baby?”

“‘Sready,” he grunts, teeth clenched. “Use it, jagi.”

You waste no time, crawling back up Jungkook’s body to settle your hips over his, flattening your palms against his chest. He’s still squirming, thighs flexing against the bed as he rocks up in a desperate attempt to find the wet heat of your cunt, and you giggle as you work yourself backwards until the head of his dick catches on your entrance.

It’s a bit of a stretch, but you’re wet enough to take it. You bite down on a smug smile as you manage to seat yourself on him hands-free.

“Fuck, love when you do that.” Jungkook’s voice is a low growl, and you slide a hand up the firm definition in his chest and slowly start to rock yourself along his length. His cock fills you up like he was made for it; you can feel every detail of him drag against your ridges, trailing sparks of pleasure as you tilt your hips to drive him right into your sweet spot.

Jungkook’s head kicks back against the pillow as a groan rips through him. There’s a gentle crease in his brow, furrowed in the way that tells you it’s so good: the tight heat of your pussy, the slick stretch of it when you work it on him. You ride him rough, make him take it like a good boy.

Another noise stutters out of Jungkook, chased this time by a huff of breath that it takes you a second to realize is a laugh, the tone caught halfway between shy and horny. You watch the way he squirms, restless against his restraints, like he can’t help himself.

He answers before you can ask. “The way your tits— fuckin’ bounce— fuck, I wanna touch you.”

The feeling sinks in as you watch him writhe beneath you, as you shove your hips back harder to pull more desperate sounds out of him. It’s fun, not letting him have what he wants, makes you drip that much more down the length of him.

“You can’t.”

“I know,” he grunts, wrists tugging uselessly. “It’s hot— that I can’t.”

“It is,” you concede, feigning composure despite the hitch in your breath, the way you’re already close to the edge and pushed that much closer by having Jungkook like this. Tied up, all yours, free to do with as you please.

And still fighting against his fucking restraints.

“Think I could rip these?”

It’s like your body acts faster than your pleasure-driven mind can keep up with: all at once, you’re tracing the pouted curve of Jungkook’s bottom lip, then slipping two fingers past it into the heat of his mouth.

“Shh, bunny,” you murmur. He blinks up at you, glassy-eyed as you pet over his tongue, all lush and wet on your fingertips. “Toys don’t talk.”

You press down more firmly as if for emphasis, enjoying how his soft parts give so easily to your touch, and then Jungkook outright moans around your fingers in his mouth.

The needy little sound makes your pussy pulse hot between your thighs.

“Fuck,” you hiss as you take him to the hilt, changing the stroke of your hips to grind against your toy, used solely to get yourself off now. Humping, really, rubbing your clit over the smooth skin of his abdomen where he’s blooming feverglow, flushed with need. Jungkook’s eyes flicker back in his head at the way your pussy’s taking him, squeezed tight like a vice and gushing wet. Working raw sounds out of him, his jaw gone slack; you can feel the blunt edge of his teeth and his heavy, shaky breath on the palm of your hand.

Your thighs shift to spread wider and the next drag of your clit is at just the right angle that pleasure surges up in you, undeniable, overwhelming. It’s all you can do now to chase your release, to keep rocking yourself into it, Jungkook’s thick cock plugged up inside of you and drool slicking out of his mouth to drip down your wrist.

“Gonna make myself come on my pretty little toy,” you manage to gasp.

Jungkook’s eyes find yours, burning intensity, the way he gets, and then he closes his lips tight around your fingers in his mouth and sucks, as if he’s begging to be used, and it sends you over the edge all at once. Your head tips back as your orgasm kicks through you, white noise pleasure, enough to get lost in.

Hips still rolling, you grind yourself through it, the waves of your climax swelling and receding again, until you finally drop forward against Jungkook’s chest, breathless and buzzing all over.

You let your fingers slip out of his mouth, exhale a laugh as they skip over the defined ridges of his stomach when you wipe your hand dry, taking full advantage of the fact that he’s powerless to stop you.

“Shit, that was hot.”

Jungkook’s voice is hoarse with desire as you shift to find the curve of his neck under your mouth, trailing kisses until your lips brush over the pretty lines of ink just behind his ear. He’s still thick and stiff inside you, with a steady pulse-throb that tells you how badly he needs to come, how worked up he is from being used as your personal hump-toy.

“Yeah,” you echo, paired with a tentative rock of your hips that makes your cunt flutter, overstimulated, tugs a little whine out of Jungkook, too. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth as you breathe against his flushed skin.

“Think I— wanna keep using my toy. Kinda feel like being greedy.”

Jungkook’s cock twitches, shameless, at your admission, again when you flick a thumb over the silver jewelry studded through his nipple. There’s a part of you that wants to keep him like this, his leaking-hard dick filling you up while you purr nasty shit in his ear, just to see if he can come from it.

“Might ride it until I break it.” You scrape your teeth up his neck and he moans. “Gonna take all I can give you, bunny?”

His throat jumps visibly as he swallows, fights to gasp a desperate “uh-huh”. Answers with his body, too, arching up to press himself deeper into you, rubbing the slick, hot tip of his cock into your front wall in just the right way to melt pleasure down your spine. You reward his eager submission with a soft kiss, then lick along the seam of his lips, enjoying the sweet little noises that pour into your mouth when you open him up.

Still intertwined, his tongue stroking over yours, your hand goes fumbling for the nightstand, comes away with the slender cylinder of your vibrator, and switches it on before slipping it down to press between your bodies.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook groans as you nestle the shuddering bullet between your folds and find the bud of your clit. You know he can feel it too from the way his hips jerk beneath you, the steady buzz engulfing his cock as you squeeze your pussy around him, all lush sensitivity from your first orgasm. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“You can.” The words are hardly more than a warm exhale from your mouth to his, your lips brushing. “But I’m not gonna stop.”

You don’t give him time to respond or even heave in another gasp of air before your thumb finds the button at the base of your vibrator, clicks it once, then again.

“F— ahh!”

Jungkook’s body jolts like a live wire as he falls apart beneath you. You sit up to take in the whole of him, your free palm slipping to the jut of his hip, fingertips splayed out and pressed heavy to anchor.

Pinned down and helpless, he trembles through the hot rush of his release, dick buried deep and pulsing as it all comes spilling out of him.

“That’s it, baby,” you coo. Your nails scratch lovingly against his skin to coax him out of it— taking such good care of your toy. His breath is punching out of his chest in these ragged, overwhelmed gasps, sweat glittering at his temples while he whimpers through the comedown. So fucking beautiful like this.

The hum of the vibrator rolls through you, strong enough with the change in angle that your eyes drop shut to focus on the feeling.

Jungkook whines when you circle your hips with him still tucked up inside of you— it’s a wrecked little noise, high and sweet, underscored by the thick squelch of his cum starting to leak back down his shaft. Your thighs tense just right from the filthy sound of it, and then it’s all throbbing velvet glow in your core as you clench up and come on his cock again.

“Fuuuuuck, bunny,” you groan up to the ceiling, your head tipped back as it washes over you. “God, yeah.”

You flick the vibrator off when it gets to be too much, let it go rolling down the mattress— the bedroom feels bigger for the silence. Sweat slicks at the back of your knees, warm spring breeze still licking through the window to flutter the sheer-gauze curtains.

You’re fluttering too, all over: the kick of your heartbeat, the breath stuttering out of your lungs. The throb of your cunt, split open and drooling out juice, messy-wet fresh fruit.

The sound of the bedsheets shifting has your lashes flickering open again, and there’s Jungkook. Dark hair fanned out on the pillow, wrists bound, and that look in his eyes. Like he can take a little more. Like he’s waiting for your cue. Like there’s this whole-heart want brimming up inside of him, making his blood run hot.

He’s still hard between your legs.

“Go on then,” you tell him. “Give me another one.”

With a concentrated growl, Jungkook flattens his feet to the bed, grips tighter to his restraints for leverage, and starts to pound up into you. You can feel an overstimulated shudder in the stroke of his hips, how his cockhead twitches, sensitive, as it rubs over your g-spot. But he doesn’t stop; doesn’t even lose his rhythm.

He fucks you like a machine, and it’s all you can do to brace your palms against his chest and tip forward, rocking yourself down to meet him thrust for thrust.

The harsh slap of body on body is almost enough to drown out the rest: your open-mouthed panting, Jungkook’s groan when your nails dig crescent moon slivers into his tan skin, the gravel edge to your words, “Yeah, like that, fuck me just like that.”

It takes you a second to notice, the sound buried beneath it all, but then it floats through— Jungkook’s sucking his breath in through his teeth now, his jaw tight. You can see the jump of a muscle working there.

“Does it hurt, baby?” you gasp, more air than voice.

Jungkook’s head drops back against the pillow, brow pinched from the focus of keeping his pace steady. He’s breathless, too, when he answers: “Feels good.”

“Feels good because it hurts, huh? Is that how you like it?”

A strangled noise tears out of his throat, and he shoves up even harder, like he wants to fuck you into the shape of him. You splay one hand over the column of his throat and watch his pretty brown eyes blink-blink back at you, and then you have to bury your moans in the crook of his neck as you come hard.

The world around you returns a little at a time. First, the tremble of your tired thighs, the dull ache that’s already started to bloom at the bend of your knees. Then, Jungkook’s body curved up against yours, hips still slow-rolling as you exhale in hot, jagged bursts against his skin. There’s the distinct drip of his cum sliding out of you, and all the sticky-wet places where it’s slicked up the swell of your ass.

“Shit,” you laugh when you manage to find the breath for it. “That was crazy.”

Jungkook shifts a little, but doesn’t respond, and then he makes this wet, soft gasp. You realize he’s shaking beneath you.

You sit up so fast the room spins; your tether is Jungkook’s face, cupped lovingly now between your palms.

“Oh, baby.”

A fat teardrop traces a path down his cheek. Another threatens the dark border of his lashes. He can’t wipe them away with his wrists tied up, but you can see him trying to hold back even as a sob shudders through him, his chest heaving.

“You okay, my love?” you murmur, swiping a thumb across his face. He sniffles, nods, hiccups a little. The tip of his nose is flushed pink. “Shoulda told me to stop, if it was too much.”

“It feels good,” he insists, and his voice cracks around the words. “It’s just a lot. But ‘m not— don’t wanna stop.”

“No? You sure?”

Jungkook sucks his lip ring into his mouth as he nods again, sniffs again. That sends a bolt of something through you.

“You’ve been so good to me,” you praise, and you tip your ass back until his softening cock slips out, smeared glossy-white with your shared release. Jungkook’s still wound-up, pulled so tight inside himself that he flinches when you slip a hand down to ease his legs apart, sliding lower on the bed to slot yourself between them.

“Can I take care of you, bun?” The question’s posed sweetly, chased with a flutter of your lashes and kisses dropped down on the flat plane of his abdomen. “I’ll be gentle.”

He whimpers— answers in the way his hips lift up to meet your mouth.

Your hands press flat to Jungkook’s broad thighs, and you can feel the overwhelmed static-shiver beneath your palms, little tremors that jolt through his muscles. Head dipped low, you drag your tongue up his length and it punches a thick sob out of him, hips stirring like he’s trying to crawl up the bed. But you just keep going, pin him down and make him take it, working broad flat stripes over the whole of his shaft, root to tip. Tasting him, salt and slick and your own heady flavor; you lick him clean.

Jungkook comes quietly this time, feet flexing restless on the bed as you tongue it all out of him. You swipe two fingers through the mess on his stomach and suck that up, too.

Humming around the digits in your mouth, you surface from between Jungkook’s legs to take him in: eyes closed, face wet with tears. You can see the rise and fall of his chest as he gasps for air, shaky, coming down from it.

“Alright baby,” you soothe, shifting up to straddle his chest, knees sinking into the sheets. “All done now, just breathe. Gonna untie you.”

Reaching up, you gently tug open the knot on one restraint, then the other, easing Jungkook’s limp arms to the mattress. Your thumbs find his wrists to massage soft love-circles in case he’s gone numb there, gently coaxing him back to earth.

“Did so good for me, bunny.”

There’s a whimper, and then Jungkook’s surging up to kiss you, forceful enough that you give a little hum of surprise against his lips.

His hands are all over you, all at once, tugging at your legs to drag them forward until you’re flat on your back on the mattress. Your sore thighs shake when he shoves them up and apart, and then a sharp buzz rolls right over the bud of your clit and you keen. Fuck, when did he even grab the vibrator?

“Wanna make you come again,” he pants, and you smile even as your spine arches off the bed. Of course. You should’ve known.

It’s Jungkook all over, you think, hyper-focused on your pleasure even when he’s out of commission, and then you feel the head of his cock push inside and you both gasp. Your cunt aches, so swollen that it’s like he’s stretching you out all over again when you take him to the hilt.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. Jungkook’s hips snap, punctuated by a strangled grunt of effort, but he keeps going, making soft little sweet-pain whines with every thrust, brow scrunched as he brute-forces his way well past overstimulation.

He’s still crying, you realize.

Tears roll down his face and drip onto your collarbone, and everything’s somehow hotter for it. His length is slick, painted in the stored-up remnants of his cum, and you can hear the squish of your folds at the base of his cock each time he fucks it all back into you, so dirty it makes your head spin.

“J-just like that, baby,” you groan, overwhelmed; you can barely get the words out. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Jungkook buries his face in the crook of your neck, and you can feel him shaking, dripping, still rabbiting his hips into you, and then the hum of pleasure reverberating through your body explodes. Your clit throbs with an orgasm that feels endless, dizzying, divine. Jungkook outright sobs as your walls pulse pulse pulse around him, begging for every last drop.

When it’s all too much, you swat at his hand, mumbling shapes that aren’t words until the vibrator’s switched off and tossed away. He pulls out with a thick wet sound and the hiss of his breath between his teeth.

Together, you come down slow. Exhaling staccato, limbs tangled, bodies flushed and sweat-sticking.

Jungkook moves first: flops onto the mattress next to you, entirely exhausted, the way you’ve seen him get after a particularly rough workout. Scrubs at his face with one hand, this shy laugh fluttering out of him. “Can’t believe I cried. Ah, so embarrassing.”

You turn onto your side, tugging his hand away so you can press a kiss to his open palm. “Don’t ask me why but… in the moment? Very hot, actually.” A flush colors his cheeks and you giggle. “My perfect little crybaby.”

He flashes you his signature cocky grin, eyes squeezing shut as it morphs into something nearer to a wince. “Fuck, I’m so sweaty.” A breathless gasp, again. “And my dick hurts. I think I came dry that last time.”

“Poor baby,” you coo, not quite sincere. “You really could’ve stopped at… what, three?”

Eyes closed and still smirking, he shakes his head, damp hair falling in his face. “No I couldn’t have— I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

“You certainly are.”

[patrophthia]

attention is what i want! | theo. nott

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

genre: pining, one sided crushes, angst !!, complicated feelings, theo is a dick tbh, humor (my attempt at it), reader embarrasses herself (multiple time), girls girls pansy, reader are friends with the golden trio but isn’t a gryffindor, cursing, drinking, a bit suggestive in the end hehe

wc: 4.3k (idk how it got this long, i planned to write sth with like 2k at most but it kept going)

note: i wrote this while listening to attention by new jeans for two hours straight (yay pining!) i have very mixed feelings for this fic but here it is anyways!

summary: it’s no secret that you have a crush on theodore nott, theo knows it, hell the whole school knew it; maybe if they didn’t then it’d be easier for you to get over him after you embarrassed yourself in front of the whole school. at least you got a new friend because of it.

To say you had a crush on Theodore Nott would be an understatement. You never actually confessed to the Slytherin but it's as clear as days that you were into him. 

And when he was as good looking as he was, could anyone really blame you? 

Not really, not when most of Hogwarts found your attempt at shooting your shot with him the most amusing thing ever. 

"Good morning, Nott." Your hand shot upwards the second the Slytherin enters the classroom. His eyes settling on you whilst his friends bickers behind him. "I saved you a seat." 

There's snickering from behind you, hushed whispers as your classmate gossips about your pathetic attempt at getting with Theodore once more. 

His eyes scans the room, finally settling on one of the two empty seats behind the class and B-lining towards it. Zabini, having lost to Malfoy at grabbing the seat next to Theodore smiles at you kindly. Maybe even apologetically as he sits next to you. 

"Better luck next time?" He offers, trying to lighten your mood and you smile back, nodding. "You'll get him eventually." 

And though your voice is low, barely audible and muffled; Zabini still manages to hear you huff out a: "doubt it." 

"Do you think he'd pay attention to me if I dyed my hair green?" You ask, playing with your hair. 

Sure, your hair would end up damaged but if it meant Theodore would spare a glance your way then you'd take it. 

Harry looks at you as if you'd grown an extra head, green eyes enlarged as he tries to gauge whether you were serious or not. "Excuse me?" 

"I think I could pull of forest green hair." 

Hermione rolls her eyes. "No, you can't." She doesn't really mean it though, she does agree that you'd probably pull off forest green hair but she'd rather you do it for your own personal wants rather than to gain someone else's attention. "And you won't." 

You only huff at her words. "Why not?"

"Because, it's stupid. You'd look stupid doing so." Mione doesn't bother sugarcoating it, she doesn't need to when you've known her as long as you have. "If you need his attention so badly then ask him out, just drop the question and get it over with." 

"I'm trying to!" You groan, passing your plate with leftovers over to Ron who accepts it gladly. "I could walk naked in front of him and he wouldn't even bat an eyelash." 

Ron face scrunches at the idea, finding the prospect of a naked you disgusting. "You could put up a banner," he suggests through a mouthful of food. "I'd notice someone if they put up a banner with my name on it." 

And when Hermione's whacked Ron at him encouraging what she deemed was self destructive behavior, the conversation shifts to something else completely. 

You're huffing and puffing when you straighten up, showing your three closest friends what you'd been working on for the last two days. "What do you think?" 

Ron gasps loudly, eyes wide as he takes in the imagine in front of him. "You're crazy." 

"If you'd just—" Hermione, as if it was second nature, reaches up and smack at his arm. "—learnt how to shut up, this wouldn't have happened." 

It's only natural for you to frown at their reaction, brows knitted as you asked them. "Is it too much?" 

Harry, and his sweet sweet soul tries his best to not hurt your feelings as he nodded. "Maybe?" He tries to soften the blow, adding on: "I think it's brilliant, it's just ... a lot." 

You look over your masterpiece. Reading out the glittering paint, letter by letter and watching it as it takes shape into one of the biggest banner you've seen at Hogwarts by far. 

Written in shining green paint were the words: 

A-T-T-E-N-T-I-O-N, attention is what I want. Nott, go out with me? 

"I mean, if anything you'll definitely get his attention with that," Harry says, blinking rapidly at the banner. "It's pretty hard to miss." 

"Let's hope so." 

The dining hall is louder than normal, it has always been noisy; having seated thousands of teenagers who had little to none supervision during their breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

But like Theodore has noted earlier, it's noisier than normal. And the drop of voices is significant when he steps through the large doors, loud gossips turns to hushed whispers; eyes roaming between him and a figure by the Gryffindor table. 

It doesn't take him long to notice why, a dust of glitter falling down on him from above. He glances up, eyes squinting as he reads out the banner before him. 

A-T-T-E-N-T-I-O-N, attention is what I want. Nott, go out with me? 

The letters are bright, glinting under the candle light as if it was taunting him, pushing at his buttons for a reaction. And though, there was no name written on the banner to indicate who'd made it; he knew that it was you. 

Dark eyes narrows as he zones in on you. You dressed up nicely, watching him with a pretty smile on your waiting face. 

And when all he did was roll his eyes and turn towards the Slytherin table, without sparing you another look. You all but deflated in front of everyone's eyes. 

You knew it was stupid, and that it was all your fault to make your love life so public for everyone to entertain themselves with, but you can't help but feel hurt at the laughter bubbling through out the hall. 

You're scrambling out of your seat, rushing out of the hall when a voice shouts out. "Serves you right, pick me!" 

Oddly enough, it's Pansy who speaks up; her voice loud and clearly irritated when she shouts back, telling them to go and: "Fuck yourself." 

Why the Slytherin threw a dirty glare at her friend and ran after you despite the two of you not being friends —let alone having been seen together before, was a mystery to everyone. 

And since Hermione loves you too much for her own good, she’s quick to scramble out of her seat, casting a spell to set the banner up in flames as she rushed after Pansy and you. 

There’s a sort of guilt that Hermione feels when she finds you hunched over with Pansy’s hand running up and down your back. The two of you weren’t friends, neither is Hermione and Pansy but when a girl’s in need of comfort, it’s only normal for them to be there for her. 

“I don’t get why you’re into him, honestly,” Pansy grits out, “out of all the boys in Slytherin you just had to choose the dickhead, didn’t you?” 

Hermione can hear you sniffle out a laugh as she takes a seat on your other side. “Out of all the boys in Hogwarts you just had to choose the dickhead, huh?” 

Pansy and Hermione are sharing a grin as you lift your head up slightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not like I wanted to like him, you know?” You say with a small laugh. “I guess I’m just attracted to an asshole.” 

“You’re guessing this now?” Pansy says with a roll of her eyes, there’s no venom in her tone, only playful annoyance. “This isn’t the first time he’s treated you like this. I’ve heard all about your … attempts, you know?” 

“Really?” You’re laughing and the hurt in your tone is clearer than ever. “How embarrassing.” 

“It’s not,” Hermione reassured you, “if anything I think it’s endearing.” 

“Me making a fool of myself for a guy is endearing to you?” 

Pansy giggles at your words. “I’ve done worse, maybe just not so publicly.” Her voice is playful when she adds on, “but this should be the final nail in the coffin right? Finally getting over that asshole after this?” 

“That asshole is your best friend,” you remind her and she looks to her side bashfully. 

“That doesn’t excuse him for being horrible to you,” she mumbled. “And I thought Draco was bad.”

“Malfoy is bad,” Hermione chimes in. “He just didn’t humiliate you like Nott did her.” 

Pansy tilts her head to the side in thought. “Maybe. Or maybe we should just stop dating Slytherin guys over all.” 

Hermione only smiles fondly at her words. “Maybe.” 

You’re doing fine. Or as fine as one could be after a publicly humiliating confession. You’re still very you, smiling at Theodore every chance you get even though you’ve told your friends (now extended to Pansy) multiple times that you were getting over him. 

The only BIG difference that anyone noticed after your rejection was that you no longer attempted to get closer to Theodore. You don’t save him seats, you don’t tell him good morning, and they’d be lying if they said it wasn’t weird. 

“Is this seat taken?” 

You look up, eyes widening at the person in front of you and nodded. “I’m saving it for someone.” You pray to Merlin that he doesn’t hear the waver in your voice as you did so. “Is there something you needed?” 

He doesn’t answer you, instead placing his book bag on your desk. You try to control the butterflies caged in your stomach, fluttering at the sight of his forearm flexing as he did so. “You’re saving it for me? Like always?” 

You blink at him. “… no. I’m saving it for Blaise.” 

“Huh,” he hums thoughtfully, “you’re in first name basis now?” 

You move to your right when he takes his seat to your left, trying to distance yourself from him. “What do you want?” 

He looks at you and your pretense of being over him crumbles all over, tumbling as he nearly knocks you off your feet just how intense his gaze is. And though you’ve always wanted his attention, for him to look at you back like he’s doing now. You can’t help but feel sick to your stomach with how much you still liked him. 

“Attention is what you want, right?” 

What is he playing at? “Not anymore.” 

“Shame.” There’s a slight smile at your answer. “I was finally ready to give it to you.” 

“He said that?” Pansy repeats your words back to you, her hand moving away from your face as she dips it back into the face mask she’d mixed up. “That’s weird.” 

“That’s what I thought,” you murmur, feeling Hermione kick her feet into your lap. “I’m so confused right now.” 

“Maybe he’s playing hard to get?” Hermione suggests. “Even if he is I hope he knows the only hard thing he’s getting is a rock thrown at his face.” 

It’s clear that she’s taken your rejection harder than you did, grumbling at the thought of him. “A text book if he’s lucky.” 

Pansy finishes up your face mask and sets the bowl down. “I told him to apologise to you, not to go and bother you," she says, frowning slightly.

“You told him to apologise?” The tone of the conversation shifts, downing just the slightest bit. 

Pansy avoids your eyes as she nods, “I just wanted him to say sorry for how he treated you, you didn’t deserve that. But that fucker decided to go and do something weird, I’m sorry, lovely.” 

When she’s taken up the nickname lovely for you, you don’t know. But you’re too much into your head to say anything about it. “Please don’t do that. Don’t meddle with this just because you pity me. I can handle this by myself.” 

“I don’t—” Pansy pauses, realising the weight of her actions “—I’m sorry, I promise I’ll leave you be.” 

You’re nodding when you tell her: “thank you.” 

Trying to jot down notes does nothing to soothe your nerves, and it definitely doesn’t distract you from the fact that Theodore Nott is sitting so damn close to you. So close that your thighs were touching, and that with any small move you made, your shoulder brushes against his. 

Moving your chair to the right is no use, not when he’d move his just so he’d be closer to you. You’re so close you could practically hear him breathe. 

It’s when your quill slips off of your desk that you have to confront him about it. You nudge at his thigh with yours, forcing them to his left only for him to look at you curiously. “Can you move?” 

“Why?” He asks instead, planting his thighs where they’d been. 

“My quill fell, I need to get it.” You explain, avoiding his eyes as best as you could. His attention is not good for your heart, maybe it two weeks ago, but it definitely wasn’t now. 

Theodore is uninterested and unmoving when he quipped back. “And you can’t get like this?” 

Not if you didn’t want to plan your face on his lap and be so terribly close to his— yeah no. You sigh, leaning forward to tap at the person’s in front of you shoulder. “Would you mind getting my quill for me please? It’s bit hard for me to reach.” 

The person in front nods and leans down to get it for you with a smile. And when they hands it to you, their finger brushing against yours, you distinctly feel Theodore press himself closer to you. 

“You could’ve borrowed mine,” Theodore says lowly, eyeing you from above. 

He’s slightly taller than you, even when you’re both sat. Trying to prove to him (and yourself) that you were over him, and that this close proximity did not matter to you; you strain your neck up to glare at him. “You could’ve moved.” 

“Maybe,” he concurs. “And you could’ve just asked for me to get it for you.” 

“Like you’d do that,” you murmur with a roll of your eyes. “For me of all people.” 

“For you of all people,” he repeats. 

You hate how you instinctively break away from his gaze, looking at your notes as you try to calm your beating heart. Two weeks is nearly not enough to time to get over a crush you’ve been harboring for the longest time, not when you liked him so much you didn’t bother to keep it a secret to anyone and he knows it. 

He knows it and he’s using it as an advantage, for what exactly you don’t know. What you do know, is that you need to get away from Theodore Nott. Or kiss him. Whichever works. 

You sigh, glancing at your hands and hope that your voice doesn’t tremble when you quietly ask him. “What are you playing at Theodore?” You’re exasperated and he can hear it, he can hear the exhaustion in your voice and he tries his best not to let it get to him. “I know Pansy told you to apologize but you’re not apologizing, you’re just making things worse.” 

He doesn’t say anything, though you can still feel his eyes on you. “Excuse me, Professor,” he says suddenly, his shoulder knocking yours as he stood up, “I’m feeling a bit under the weather, would you mind letting me slip to the infirmary?” 

His hands are on you, holding firmly onto your wrist as he speaks. “It’s best if I had a friend to help me.” The professor doesn’t get a chance to respond before Theodore is pulling you away from the class. 

Your words are jumbled, flailing as you try to match up his pace; you’re confused and against your better judgement, you trust that he wouldn’t hurt you —even if he’d done so many times before. 

He comes to a halt by a hallway, it’s quiet still; students having yet left their classes. 

He looks at you, dark eyes clouding with emotion and tries to get you to look at him. Practically begging for you to give him your attention before speaking. “How am I making things worse? It’s what you wanted isn’t it?” 

“It is,” you say after a minute. “It’s just— this isn’t how I wanted it.

I like you, Theodore. A lot and I’ve made it so clear so many times and you always made it clear that you didn’t like me back. I finally try to get over you and you do this? What even is this? What are you trying to get at, Theo?” 

He doesn’t answer you, his hand finally releasing the grip on your wrist to rest by his side. 

You scoff, noting how he falls back to his pattern of not speaking to you when you’re practically pouring your heart out to him. 

“Why did never ask me out?” 

Your expression is puzzled, and he knows that he needs to explain himself, for him to tell you exactly what he meant but can’t bring himself to. Not when he wants to keep his pride in check.

“I did ask you out,” you tell him slowly. “In front of everyone.” 

“Exactly,” his reply is breathless as if he had been pondering over this for ages, “in front of everyone. Why didn’t you tell me you like me? Why didn’t you ask me when it’s just you and I?” 

“Are you serious?” You let out a ridiculing laugh. “You never wanted to step a single foot next to me and you expected me to ask you when it’s just me and you? Are you kidding me? 

Did you ever wonder why I wrote ‘attention is what I want’?” 

He’s speechless. And screwed. He can sense that you’re growing agitated with him, and he hates it. 

“Would it have changed anything if I had asked you out between you and I?” 

His silence is loud enough for you to understand his converted answer. 

“Merlin, why did you bring me out here, Theodore?” 

Theodore is bad at emotions. He’s bad at feelings, he’s bad at love and everything alike. He doesn’t like you and he’s pretty sure of it. Then why does it bother him so much to know that you no longer wanted anything to do with him. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Of course you don’t.” You meet his eyes and he knows that this is the end, you’re done with him for good. “Out of all the boys in Hogwarts you just had to be the one I liked, huh?”

“And that’s it?” Ron ask curiously. “You’re finally getting over him?” 

“Mhmm,” you hum, waving at Pansy who waved at you from the end of the dining hall, her Slytherin friends pointedly looking between you, Pansy, and Nott. “Finally am.” 

Ron doesn’t need to know that despite your mind being set on getting over Nott, your stomach still did somersault every time you see him —even in your peripheral vision. 

And when you smile at him, much like you did to everyone else and he doesn’t smile back at you; you feel your heart break all over again. 

It’s your own fault though, falling for a mere stranger who you’d only ever spoken to in classes —all of which having been conversations about school. 

“Do I get reward?” 

Hermione rolls her eyes. “A reward for doing something we’ve been telling you to do for ages? You wish.” 

“I’ve been wishing for something else.” The mischievous look on your face is enough to clue her in on where your mind as gone, scrunching her face as she scowls at you. “Gross.” 

“Are you okay though?” Harry asks you lowly. “I know it can be hard to get over crushes.” Take him and Chang for example. “So if you need anything we’re here for you.” 

“I’m okay,” you tell him. “Or at least I’ll be.” 

Harry offers you a smile, as kind as always. “That’s good then.” 

It’d only be weird for you to visit the Slytherin common room often (courtesy of Pansy) and for you to not run into Theodore at least once. 

You’re standing outside the common room, waiting for Pansy to come and get you when the door swings open and he stands there in front of you. He’s in his pajamas, an oversized sweater pooling at his hands. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Though you’re also in your pajamas, you feel slightly underdressed under his eyes. Only having worn a loose T-shirt and shorts for girls night. 

You want to ask him what he’s doing here but it is his house’s common room so you withheld your question to yourself. “Pansy.” 

He gives you a once over before glancing back into the common room, it’s roaring with laughters; a bunch of the Slytherin boys deciding to play card games as they indulge themselves with the alcohol they bought with their father’s money. 

“Let me walk you in,” he offers, already turning back into the common room; expecting for you to follow after him. 

“You don’t need to—” you don’t get to finish your words when Theodore throws you a sharp look. As if he was asking you to protest him on this. You sigh, following after him. 

Theodore stays a good distance away, hiding you and your bare legs from the other Slytherins. He doesn’t really have to though, most of them minding their own business until Blaise chirps up to say hi. 

“Hello,” you greeted him back, waving at him. Crabbe, now noticing your interaction lets out a low whistle at the sight of you. And Theodore moves closer to you, almost possessively. “I’ll see you in the morning?” 

“Mhmm,” Blaise says, humming before turning his attention back to Enzo. “Goodnight, princess.” 

There’s a snicker from Goyle, smirking as he says. “You’re stealing Nott’s girl now?” 

You only offer him a smile, feeling Theodore come in over closer to you as he hurries you up the stairs. There’s a thump! from behind and you knew, without seeing, that Blaise threw a pillow at the bastards face. 

Theodore doesn’t try to hide his amusement when you curse a hex in Crabbe and Goyle’s way, not when Mattheo’s laughter roared across the room at your spell. 

“Thank you,” you tell Theodore, and you noticed that his lips are curled; why exactly, you don’t want to know. “Goodnight, Theodore.” 

You’re halfway up the stairs when he calls your name, you turn to him. “Yes?” 

“Goodnight,” he says, turning on his heel to leave. 

You turn back up the stairs, only to pause and look back at him once, twice; before setting off to find Pansy. 

It’s two weeks later when Theodore bumps into you again, this time; quite literally. His hands are on you, stilling you so you wouldn’t fall flat on your ass. 

The dance floor is crowded, but it’s to be expected when one of the most popular students at Hogwarts (read: Blaise Zabini) is throwing a birthday party. 

You’re —by extension through Pansy, a friend of his which means you needed to be there or he’d be pretty (very) sad about it and pester you about it for the rest of your life. 

“Woah!” Your hands lay awkwardly on his chest, trying to push him away whilst trying to balance yourself still. “Watch where you’re going.” 

Theodore straightens you up, hands lingering a little too long before letting you go. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “I’m sorry.” 

And though you promised yourself to let go off Theodore months ago, you can’t help but feel your heart twist at his words. Skin burning where he’d touch you mere seconds ago. 

“It’s fine,” you wave him off, “just be more careful.” 

“Yeah.” His tone is breathless, blinking at you slowly as if he couldn’t believe you were so close to him. “You look nice.” 

You better hope so, it’s not like you spend an hour getting ready to look anything but nice. And despite your better judgment, you feel butterflies setting off in your stomach once more. But that could’ve also been caused by the mixed concoction you downed five minutes ago. 

“Thank you,” you murmur. “You too, Theo.” 

“Mhmm,” he hums nodding, his expression is hesitant. “Thank you,” he says, turning his head to the side and under the clubbing lights, you can easily spot the tinging redness at the top of his ears. “Do you want to get out of here?” 

“What?” It’s not that you didn’t hear him, it’s that you didn’t want to hear him. Because you knew, damn well, that if he’d just repeated himself you would agree within a heartbeat.

He gulps, and repeat himself. “Do you want to get out of here?” 

Maybe your heart is weak, maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just Theodore that gets you out of there with him attached to your lips. 

His hand pressing into the small of your back as you leaned against the wall, a small groan slipping from his lips when you nipped on it. 

Theodore pulls back, eyes wide and roaming your face as he takes your features in; memorising the slope of your nose, the plumpness in your lips, and the apples of your cheeks as if this was the last time he’d be able to do so. And presses his lips to yours once more. 

He calls out your name, a free hand reaching up to cup your jaw so you’d look at him. For you to give him the attention he so desperately wanted from you. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I know you probably hate me and I’m so sorry but give me a chance, please.” 

His tone is desperate, almost begging as he did so and you wonder if he knew the impact he still had on you. He lets go of your jaw, arm wrapping around your waist, bringing you impossibly closer to him.

“Give me a chance to make it up to you,” he asks of you, mouth pressing wet kisses down your neck as he repeats himself. “Please, please, pretty girl.” 

“Theo.” His kisses doesn’t stop, much less falter at your words. “Theo.” 

“Mhmm?” He hums against your neck, pulling back to give you his full an undivided attention. “Yes?” 

He’s a bit taken aback when you kiss him quickly, chasing your lips as you pulled back. “You have a lot to make up for.” 

“I know.” The curled smile of his returns, dark eyes glinting as he looks at you. “But for now let me give you all my attention.”

— from bee: i guess reader got what she wished for at the end lol, feedbacks and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! (๑>◡<๑)

p.s this pic of mingyu is so (my) bf i love him!!

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

Hi 🥰 idk if u remember me but im rainb0wdrafts from ao3! Saw on your bio that ure taking request soooo uhmm can I request a fluffy / smutty wanda x fem reader fic based on a song Wanna Be Missed by Hayley Kiyoko? 🥺 or if ure not feeling that particular song, any song that would inspire u from her Expectations album.

P. S.

still cant wait for the ending of Sparkling Scarlett. I’m having mixed emotions about it rn JSKSKSLLSLS

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: you try to get your mind off of Wanda in a crowded nightclub, and she finds you there and eases your cravings for her.

content warnings: smut, fingering, cunnilingus

word count: 4.3k

masterlist

A/N: omg hiiii!! i totally hadn't listened to that song before, so i listened to it on repeat while i figured out the vibes and plot line lol. i was basically feeling nightclub vibes with wanda and fem!reader going feral for each other. i hope you like it ◡̈

you literally cured my writers block so thank u 🙏, i really don't want Sparkling Scarlet to end either😭

photo cred: me, i literally made the photo in photoshop lol. anyways.

Craving You

The nightclub reverberated with an electric energy that filled every inch of the air. A symphony of pulsing lights painted the space in vibrant hues, dancing in synchrony with a mesmerizing blend of bass-heavy rhythms. It resonated in the bones of those who stood on the crowded dance floor. 

You danced along, your body swaying to the pounding tempo as your feet started to tingle, the vibrations palpable in the stifling air. The atmosphere was a sensory overload, a place where time blurred, and your inhibitions dissolved as your friends brought you yet another shot. 

Shooting down the clear liquid, you grimaced at the taste, attempting not to cough it back up as your friend patted you on the back. Looking up, you saw Kate’s already flushed face as she lazily scanned the room. 

“Just go and find her already,” You said, feeling your senses starting to dull as the vodka left a pleasant burn in your chest. “I promised you I’d be here as a wingwoman tonight!” 

Kate looked over at you, her face giddy with the anticipation of finally talking to her long-time crush, Yelena. You laughed, grabbing the slightly crumpled water bottle from her grasp and uncapping it. Forcing the bottle against her lips, you watch her gulp down the water. 

Hastily pulling the bottle away, you take a few sips before screwing the cap back on. “Don’t gulp it all down Kate, you’ll get sick that way.” You chastised, only half joking. You really didn’t want to spend another night holding Kate’s hair as she spewed her guts into a nightclub toilet. 

Gently shoving her away, you gave Kate a light pep talk. It mostly consisted of complimenting her outfit, as she’d stressed about it all day. You had helped her pick the dress, a stunning knee length fabric that shimmered with each passing ray of multi-colored light. Kate spun in a small circle as you showered her with compliments, before finally turning away and laughing, her eyes scanning the room for Yelena. 

“But wait!” Kate exclaimed, swaying slightly as she gripped your upper arm tightly. She struggled to focus on your face, finally making eye contact. “You haven't had enough alcohol to get your mind properly off of her yet.”

You sighed, letting out a breath into the already warm air. The atmosphere dimmed slightly, the stale air swirling around you as you remembered the true reason you’d let Kate drag you along. In all honesty, you’d never been much of a party girl. You always preferred a night in, sipping tea as you watched a sitcom with your girlfriend. 

And there it was, the one thing you’d been trying not to think about.

Shooting Kate a look, you shook your head. “I don’t think alcohol is going to help much.” She gave you an apologetic look, and you gave her a slightly firmer push towards the dance floor. She turned slowly, and upon seeing a flash of dirty blonde hair, quickly left your side in pursuit. 

Turning back towards the bar, you squinted against the flashing lights, already feeling a headache coming on as the vibrant mix of reds and blues swirled against the walls. Pushing through a tangle of sweaty, dancing bodies, you snagged a seat towards the end of the bar. You ordered a shirley temple (you really did miss Wanda), and sat back against the wall. Choosing to give your eyes a rest from the mass of bodies dancing in an uncoordinated pattern, you let your eyes unfocus as you stared into the dark red of your drink. 

Wanda had unfortunately been called away, her position as head of her company demanding more hours as the summer season hit. She’d left immediately after a late night phone call, grabbing her pre-packed bag and sweeping out of your shared home. She’d promised that it wouldn’t be too long of a trip, and that she’d call you every day. That was three weeks ago. 

She did call you every day, but spoken words weren’t enough for you. You wanted to be held by her, falling asleep in her arms as she laughed along quietly to the sitcoms playing in the background. You wanted to kiss her again, like it was the last time you’d ever embrace her lips with yours, frenzied and passionate. The sound of her voice through a phone, knowing she was miles away, couldn’t compare to the way she would hold you close with your breaths intermingling as you pulled each other impossibly closer. 

Fuck, you missed her with every fibre of your being. 

Shaking off your suddenly melancholic thoughts, you scanned the room for Kate. The mess of brown curls was lost in the sea of moving bodies, and you focused on the first flash of blonde you saw. Upon seeing Yelena, you smiled at the sight of Kate standing mere inches away from her. Your mission was accomplished, and all you had to do was not think about Wanda. 

How utterly disappointing it was, when your thoughts wandered back to her. Back to her soft red curls, slightly frizzy as they splayed across her bare back. You always swore you woke up next to an angel everyday, and Wanda would laugh as she showered you with kisses. Her laugh, flowing from her lips with a melodic grace as her lips danced softly across your skin. Back to her freckles, a constellation neatly scattered across her features that you had attempted to count many times. Back to her waist and hips, the slow curve that you dragged your fingertips over, until you finally reached her…

A hand against your waist startled you out of your thoughts, and you flushed slightly as you turned in your seat. Setting your drink down on the counter top, not wanting to enter into the range past tipsy, you looked up. 

A sea of red curls filled your vision, and your eyes slowly widened as you drank in the sight of Wanda standing before you. She had a hand in her pocket, the other stroking your hip in slow circles as your brain attempted to process. Her vibrant green eyes crinkled at the edges as she watched the multiple emotions you were feeling flit across your face. Her skin was lit with the ever-changing hues of the nightclub, and you started to feel as though you were in a cinematic movie scene. 

“Not a movie sweetheart.” Wanda said, her velvety voice wrapping around your head and sinking you further into a trance. You could hear the undercurrent teasing, but elected to ignore it in favor of staring at her. Staring at her ridiculously attractive cheekbones, at her sharp jaw and shining eyes as she drank in the sight of you.

Jolting out of your seat, finally processing the fact that she wasn’t a figure of your imagination, you wrapped your arms tightly around her shoulders as you sunk into a well-known embrace. Your bodies molded together, and you felt her arms tighten securely around your waist. You couldn’t make yourself pull away, letting the hum of the nightclub fade into insignificance as you attempted to convey the depth of your emotions through your embrace. Wanda nestled further into your arms, your breaths synchronizing as you held each other. 

Breathing deeply, you buried your nose into her hair as the familiar scent of vanilla filled your senses. For some reason, that gave you enough strength to pull away, but only far enough so you could see Wanda’s face. 

“What are you doing here?” Your voice was slightly breathy as you eagerly drank in the sight of her. She gazed down at you, her eyes fitting to your parted lips as you exhaled shakily. She smiled, leaning in closer until her lips touched the shell of your ear. You shuddered. 

“My trip ended a bit later than expected,” Wanda started, her tongue flicking out against your ear. You felt her smirk against you as a shiver ran down your spine. “And I didn’t want to wait until you got home to finally see you, so I came to you.”

A large smile made its way onto your face. Your girlfriend, who had just flown miles back home and who was probably jetlagged as hell, had made the decision to walk into a grungy nightclub in search of you. At the mere thought of how much effort she’d put into seeing you, you crashed your lips against hers. 

Her lips met yours with an equal amount of ferocity, and you felt her dragging you away from the bar as she sucked your bottom lip between her teeth. You followed happily, all of your thoughts invested solely on the woman you were clinging to. She pulled you through a doorway, the security team waving her through as they recognized her well known status. 

You could barely think, a certain fuzziness overtaking your mind as it focused solely on Wanda. You focused on your hands against her shoulders, the way your fingertips brushed against the overheated skin of her neck and tangled in the loose curls that fell around her shoulders. After a desperate tug of her hair, Wanda pulled away briefly to push open a door, before shutting it and pushing you harshly against the solid wood. 

“Hi sweetheart,” Wanda whispered, her lips grazing yours as she caught her breath. Her cheeks held an adorable flush, and her eyes shined as they roamed over your heaving chest and shaky legs. Her hands pressed your hips firmly against the door, and you squirmed slightly as you attempted to pull her closer. 

“I missed you.”

The words flowed from you desperately, and Wanda smiled at the whimper in your voice. She always loved you like this, when you were soft, pliant and so eager to please. She allowed herself to be pulled closer, until the front of her body was flush with yours. You rolled your hips against her, letting out a choked noise from the back of your throat as you relieved some of the aching pressure that had built between your legs. 

Letting her teeth graze your jaw slightly, Wanda focused on marking the soft skin of your neck as you panted beneath her. Her hands stilled your rolling hips, and you whined as she pulled back to look at your desperate form. 

“What exactly did you miss?” She asked, raising a single eyebrow as you struggled to get your brain to work. 

Catching a glimpse of the soft bed behind you, and realizing that Wanda had pushed you into one of the private backrooms of the nightclub, you pushed gently against her shoulders. Allowing you to walk her backwards, Wanda let out a surprised puff of air when the backs of her knees met the mattress. 

Moving to straddle her, you tangled your fingers with her smooth curls once more as you tilted her head back. With your lips against her temple, you breathed in the familiar heady scent that was so wholly Wanda as you murmured, “I’ll show you.”

Wanda’s hands tightened around your waist, keeping you on her lap as you ran your hands over cheeks and jaw, fingers ghosting over her skin as you started speaking. “I missed your annoyingly perfect eyebrows,” She let out a surprised giggle, raising them playfully as you laughed. Bringing a single finger down to her lips, you placed it against her bottom lip. “I missed your lips, so soft and kissable, and the words that drip from them wherever you speak.” 

Tilting your head down, you placed a gentle kiss against her lips, pulling back when she attempted to deepen it. Wanda furrowed her brows as you pulled away, but you smiled softly and placed your finger against her lips once more as she tried to speak. “Hush love, I’m not done.”

Sitting back, Wanda watched your face as your eyes followed the path your other hand traced down her neck. As your fingers ghosted over the column of her throat and danced along her collarbone, she gently sucked your finger into her mouth. Your eyes flew back to hers in surprise, but she simply smiled around your finger, her tongue swirling around the heavy pad as you watched with parted lips. 

You groaned, finding it hard to concentrate as you watched Wanda suck on your finger like it was the best thing she’d had in her mouth for a while. You placed another finger against her lips, and watched in an almost trancelike state as she sucked that one in as well. Her eyes closed slightly as she sucked, and she let out a low moan as your other hand tightened against her shoulder. 

The sound startled you out of your daze, and spurred you on. Reaching down, you removed your fingers from her mouth as you swiftly pulled her expensive blouse over her head. Throwing the article somewhere behind you, you brought your fingers back to her parted lips and sighed as you felt the wet heat of her mouth encircle them once more. 

“I missed your skin,” You said breathily, running a hand over her toned arms as they pulled you further onto her lap. You gasped as your core met her pelvis, and tried not to grind your hips down against hers. Unclasping her bra, she helped you take it off as you ran your fingers over her perspiring skin. Leaning down, you let your tongue drag against her, collecting the slightly salty taste as you traced a path from the tops of her breasts all the way to her ear.  

“I missed the way you feel against me,” You whispered, and she reached up to pull your fingers out of her mouth. In one smooth motion, she pulled your shirt off and unclasped your bra, both items landing somewhere with a soft thump as she maneuvered the two of you towards the center of the bed. 

You giggled slightly, feeling her hot breath against your overheated skin as she drank in the sight of you. She leaned closer, her lips parted as her eyes focused on the smooth skin of your neck, but you placed your hands firmly against her shoulders. Pushing back, you ignored the frustrated look she sent you, shushing her as you guided her to lay against the sheets. 

Your hips still straddled hers, and after sitting back up, you rolled them slightly as you gazed down on Wanda’s form. She lay beneath you, her chest heaving as her eyes roamed your nude chest, her hair splayed out across the dark sheets. 

“I missed your tits.” You said cheekily, reaching out your hands as your fingers pinched her nipples gently. Instead of reprimanding you like she normally would, Wanda let out a soft moan as she squirmed slightly, her hands tightening on your thighs. You felt your breath catch, the heat in your belly flaring at the sight. 

Leaning down, you captured her lips in a searing kiss, letting unrestrained moans into her mouth as she kissed you back with equal ferocity. Panting, you parted from her as you trailed your lips down her neck until you reached the soft skin of her breast. Sucking gently, you placed a few hickeys against her skin, sighing when her hand reached up to tug at your hair. 

Wanda’s hand clenched tightly, bringing tears to your eyes when you finally let your mouth encircle her tight nipple. Letting out a pained noise, you breathed deeply as she glanced down apologetically, her hand relaxing slightly. Flicking your tongue, you pulled more moans from her as you played with her chest. You could feel your bodies sliding against each other as the heat from your desperation built. 

Deciding to give the poor woman some relief, you detached your lips from her chest, admiring her puffy nipples as she groaned. Wanda’s hands became more desperate as you descended her body, tugging your head closer to her overheated skin as your lips grazed the top of her pants. She let out a desperate whine, and your eyebrows shot up at the sound. 

“I missed your hips.” You traced your fingers over the faint stretch marks you found there as you pulled her pants down in a quick motion. Your fingers mapped out a path along her skin as you traced the mole near her belly button, and the soft raised scar on her hip from when she’d fallen out of a tree when she was five. Moving further down, you spread her legs as you knelt between them, letting your lips trace a path from her ankle up to the apex of her thighs. You sighed softly as the scent of her arousal reached your nose, and you nuzzled your face into the soft skin of her inner thighs as her legs attempted to close around your head. 

You shook your head out of the clouds, blinking as Wanda hips frantically raised against your palms. You looked up, watching her heaving chest and admiring her strong jaw as she threw her head back against the mattress. One hand was clenching the dark sheets under her, and your eyes widened at the sight of her white knuckles. The other hand gripped your wrist tightly, her fingers scrabbling for purchase against your sweaty skin as her legs tightened around you. 

Placing your hands firmly against her thighs, you spread her legs as she bucked her hips. Letting her hand tangle with your hair, you chuckled as she attempted to press your face against her dripping center. You admired the wet spot forming against her underwear, blowing a stream of cool air against her core as she writhed beneath you. 

“Please.”

You let out a moan of your own at her plea, before quickly stripping her of her underwear and leaving her completely bare against the sheets. You barely had a moment to admire her pale form against the dark fabric before her hand was tugging your head closer to her once more. 

Placing a gentle kiss against her protruding clit, you smirked as her hips jerked. “I missed your scent,” You murmured, unsure if she could actually hear you over her own desperate moans. “I miss the way you taste against my tongue, and the way you roll your hips when I finally lean in for a taste.” 

Wanda’s moans turned into desperate pleas, her hips now uncontrollably rutting against the mattress as she searched for any sort of release. Taking mercy on her, you finally leaned down and swiped your tongue against her core. Moaning at the taste, you circled your lips around her clit as she babbled incoherently while thrusting her hips against your face. 

The grip of her hands in your hair caused tears to spring into your eyes once more, but you ignored it. Sucking harder, you urged her hips to buck faster against your face as her moans became more breathy. You felt her jerk unsteadily against you, her hips losing their rhythm as she neared her climax, incoherent words streaming from her lips. 

Sucking her clit in between your teeth, you bit down gently while swirling your tongue around it, and Wanda lost what little control she had left. Her legs tensed around your head, squeezing tightly as her body shook. Her clit pulsed on your tongue, and you smirked as a wave of wetness hit your chin. Her head was thrown back, her lips parted as she let out a throaty moan. Her fingers locked in your hair, her hand firmly pressing you against her spasming core as she rode out the last few waves of her orgasm. 

You licked your lips clean after finally coming up for air, her legs relaxing just enough for you to pull away slightly. As soon as you caught your breath, you dived right back in and savored the rich taste of her against your tongue. As you slipped your tongue inside her, you decided that you would do whatever it took to always have Wanda within arms reach. You simply couldn’t fathom being separated from her for an extended period of time again, and you quickly lost yourself in the drug that was Wanda Maximoff. 

A trembling breath brought your attention back to the woman still sprawled on the sheets. Her legs trembled around your head as you slipped your tongue in and out of her still-leaking center. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally locked those viridescent green eyes on yours. As soon as you made eye contact, you smiled against her core as you brought your fingers up to circle her clit slowly. 

Pulling away, you licked the taste of Wanda from your lips as you slipped two fingers into her without warning. You kept your eyes locked with hers as you slowly started pumping your fingers, and Wanda’s eyes lidded as she attempted to keep her gaze on you. 

Smirking devilishly, you licked a slow circle around her swollen clit before placing a kiss directly on top of it. Resting your cheek against her inner thigh, you kept your gaze on her as the sounds of your fingers roughly slamming into her filled the room. Her slick juices spilled onto the sheets as your fingernails dug into her hip in an attempt to keep her hips in place. 

“I crave you, Wanda.” Your sultry voice tipped her further towards the edge, and Wanda threw her head back against the mattress as she let out a stream of curse words. 

You curled your fingers as you stroked that very sensitive spot inside her, pressing firmly into the spongy walls as you sucked her clit between your lips. Wanda’s back arched, and she practically lifted herself off the bed as she reached her climax once again. This time, you hummed against her as she rode out the aftershocks, and her third orgasm snuck up on her and ripped through her body like a wildfire. 

Throughout it all, you were relentless. Your fingers kept up their bruising pace as your lips chased her clit. You were starting to get light headed as Wanda’s legs squeezed your head, the hand in your hair not allowing you to escape her grasp. Wanda’s hips jerked against you, and she let out a few whimpers as the hand in your hair started pushing against your head. 

“Too much sweetheart, too much.” Wanda choked out, panting in relief when you finally pulled away. She let herself relax fully against the mattress, rolling away from the center of the bed when the damp sheets grew uncomfortable beneath her. You emerged from the small in-suite bathroom with a damp washcloth. Hushing her, you gently brought the warm washcloth to her slick skin as you cleaned her up. 

You couldn’t resist one final taste, and after swiping your tongue to collect the juices still flowing from her slit, you finished cleaning your girlfriend and collapsed on the bed beside her. 

“Well.” Wanda said, and you laughed at her inability to speak as she rolled into your side and buried her face against your bare shoulder. 

Pressing a kiss on the top of her head, you breathed in her familiar vanilla scent as she pulled you closer. You wrapped your arms around her as she draped her legs over yours in an attempt to mold her body against you. You let a hand start running through her hair, detangling it slightly as she fully relaxed into you.

“I missed your laugh.” You said, and Wanda hummed against your shoulder. You began speaking again, your words filling the non-existent space between the two of you. “I missed the crinkle of your eyes whenever you smile at me, and I missed cuddling with you and watching sitcoms. I missed the breakfasts that you cook, and I missed putting away the dishes with you afterwards.” 

You laughed then, not believing the words coming out of your mouth. “I mean, who misses doing the dishes?” You snorted, burying your face back into Wanda’s hair. “Only a fool in love would miss doing the most mundane task.”

Wanda tilted her face until she was looking at you, her green eyes shining up at you. “You love me?” Her voice was colored in surprise, and her face turned hopeful. 

Blinking, you realize the words that had just slipped out. “I mean… yeah.” You began, running your fingers through her hair nervously as you met her wide green eyes. “I hope that’s alright, I don’t want you to feel like you have to say it back right now or anything, but yeah.” You trailed off, feeling the blush rise to your cheeks at your accidental admission. 

One of Wanda’s hands came up to rest against your cheek, and she tilted your flushed face back towards her. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled brightly up at you. “I love you too sweetheart.” 

Your heart started pounding, and a wide smile broke out on your face as you excitedly started peppering Wanda’s face with kisses. “I love you too!” You exclaimed as she laughed, her hands wrapping around the back of your neck as she pulled you in for a proper, searing kiss. 

Pulling away after a few long seconds, you rested your forehead against hers as an uncontrollable grin overtook your lips. Time stood still as you both basked in the newfound confessions you’d made. Wanda’s fingers grazed your jaw, her touch gentle and grounding as your mind raced with excitement. 

In that moment, as your foreheads remained gently pressed together, you knew that this was the beginning of an exhilarating chapter of your life. One that Wanda would be by your side in, her hand pressed in yours as you faced the world and conquered any obstacles that may come your way. As you lingered in each other's gentle embrace, the world outside faded into insignificance, and you knew that you had finally found true love.

[hungermakesmonsters]

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Eight

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Chapter Rating : PGish

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Reader is kind of mean to Billy. Random guy gets grope-y and doesn't want to take no for an answer. There's a little bit of violence. And reader has far too much to drink. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : ~4.3k

A/N : This follows on directly from the last part! Thanks to everyone still following this and for all the likes, comments and reblogs, y'all are awesome!!

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN

Chapter Eight

The club was packed, the dance floor a sea of bodies in costumes and faces in masks. You regretted deciding to go the moment you saw how full it was, but Tammy had hold of your wrist, leading you towards the bar. It was your round and, suddenly, you were very glad of the two hundred dollars Billy had tipped you for his bogus delivery. Eventually you all ended up at a table, more shots were put in front of you and, honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had so much to drink

Michelle and her friend made a point of loudly letting everyone (you) know when Billy arrived. The newer Anvil recruits seemed just as uncomfortable as you at his presence and you made a point of heading to the bar before he reached your table, escaping his notice, but you found yourself glancing over your shoulder, drinking in the sight of him in one of his dark suits, matched with a red shirt, and a devil mask that covered half his face. At least he’d be easy to avoid, looking like that.

You stayed at the bar, slowly making your way through a couple of drinks, doing everything you could not to look back. And, for a time, that worked out perfectly.

Until it didn’t

You felt him behind you, standing too close, towering over you. A shiver ran up your spine as he placed his hand on the bar next to yours, so close that his thumb was almost pressed against your pinkie. The seconds ticked by; you didn’t speak and he didn’t move. You were the first to break, glancing over your shoulder, finding his dark eyes beneath the devil mask. He didn’t smile that playful smile, didn’t look happy that you’d finally decided to pay attention to him; his jaw was clenched and he just seemed lost.

Unfortunately for him, you’d had enough to drink to loosen your tongue.

“Did you tell Michelle that she’s a rebound?” Not caring about the jealousy and anger in your voice.

“I’m not here with Michelle.” 

“Not what I heard,” you answered back and watched as his shoulder twitched in annoyance, “tonight’s the night she finally gets you into bed.”

“I’m not fucking Michelle - tonight or any other night.” Barely managing to hold back his irritation, but you couldn’t tell if it was aimed at you or her.

“No, that’s right - you can’t fuck anyone, can you?” A laugh bubbled up and you hated how cruel you felt the moment it left your lips.

“You know why I’m here.”

“Yeah because she sent you a thirst trap and you were thirsty enough to fall for it. Don’t act like this has anything to do with me.”

Billy didn’t answer, he just reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, opening the picture Michelle had sent, zooming in on the background; it was you, talking to Tammy. He’d come to the club for you, to stop you taking anyone home, just like he said he would.

“So you’re stalking me now?” You demanded but the only answer he gave was a shrug. “I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, but your ex was right about you; you’re a fucking psycho, Billy.”

It was enough to draw a reaction from him, one that you weren’t expecting. There was a visceral flicker of pain across his face, followed by something that almost looked like fear. He looked away from you and your stomach dropped, remembering what Karen and Frank had told you about his relationship with Krista. It felt like you’d genuinely hurt him, like you’d finally managed to strike a nerve.

“You spoke to Krista.” It wasn’t a question, wasn’t even a demand, he just sounded resigned.

“She spoke to me,” you explained, not wanting him to think you’d gone looking for dirt on him.

“When?”

“At the gala. Why? What does it matter?”

“And she told you - what? - that I’m a psychopath, that I can’t feel real emotions? Did she tell you I’m dangerous? That I hurt people?” There was pain in his voice, the kind you hadn’t meant to cause, his composure seeming to break a little more as his shoulder ticked again. “She told you all that but you still went home with me?”

“I didn’t believe her -”

“But you do now?” He didn’t let you finish. “You think I’d hurt you? That I’m capable of hurting you?” He was standing close enough that you heard his breath catch over the thrum of the music, and saw his chest shudder, like he couldn’t breathe. His hand twitched on the bar, inadvertently grazing yours as he pulled it back.

Before you could think of an answer, or say anything at all, he was turning away from you and disappearing into the crowd. You’d managed to get rid of him, but the cost felt far too high.

The next few hours passed in a blur of tequila shots and increasingly sloppy dancing with Tammy and her friends. From time to time, you caught sight of him through the crowd, Michelle permanently attached to his side, putting her hands on him at any chance she got, but every time you looked his way, it was you that held his attention. 

You kept drinking, trying to wash away the sickening feeling in your stomach, the part of you that regretted what you’d said to Billy - you’d wanted him to leave you alone, you hadn’t wanted to hurt him. And it had been low bringing Krista into it. But, the more you drank, the harder it became to really focus on any of that. You just wanted to dance, but none of the Anvil guys seemed to want to dance with you or pay you any attention, and you didn’t know if it was because of Billy or just because of you. 

With your self-esteem in the toilet, you went looking for validation elsewhere, and it wasn’t long before you found yourself a dance partner (though you really should have realised he was bad news purely because he was dressed as Jared Leto’s Joker).

You danced for a couple of songs before everything started to go wrong.

His hand found your hip, low enough that his fingers could slip into the gaps in your fishnets. You tensed, but you didn’t pull away. If he noticed your discomfort, it didn’t stop him from putting his hand on your other hip, his fingertips roughly pressing into your skin. You danced like that for another song before he got a little bolder, letting one of his hands grab your ass and pull you closer, grinding his body against yours. You managed to squirm out of his grip, hoping he’d take the hint.

He didn’t.

“C’mon, babe, don’t tease. You’re gettin’ me hard.” He smirked, pulling you close again, grinding against you. You tried to push him away, hands on his chest, trying to struggle out of his hold. Instead of letting you go, he leaned in to kiss you. You felt his lips brush yours before -

Suddenly he was gone, pulled away from you, and someone was standing between you and him. Billy. 

“What the fuck?” He threw a clumsy fist Billy's way, but Billy was too fast (and sober). Billy stepped aside, catching him by the collar, holding him in place as he threw a punch of his own. Even over the music you heard the sickening thud of Billy's fist connecting with his face. Blood started to pour from his nose, but Billy didn't stop, hitting him again and again.

He didn't stop until a couple of the Anvil guys pulled him off, one of them telling the bloodied guy to walk away.

By the time Billy thought to turn back to you, you were already heading for the door, not even bothering to stop to get your jacket. He followed after, forcing his way through the crowd and calling out your name, discarding the stupid devil mask as he went. You didn’t stop, didn’t even turn; you just wanted to get out of there.

You were fighting back tears by the time you made it outside and into the pouring rain. It didn’t take long for Billy to catch up, lightly grabbing your wrist so you’d at least turn to look at him.

“Leave me alone, Billy.”

“Are you okay?” He asked, letting you pull away from his grip.

“What do you think?” You half-snapped, half-sobbed. “Are you happy now?”

“Why would I be happy?” He was confused, hurt by the implication.

“You were right; I can’t do this.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t want to be right like this.” He replied softly. Too softly. The care and tenderness in his voice were just too much to process.

You shook your head and turned to keep walking, and Billy started after you. For a few steps you tried to ignore it, hoping he’d get bored or decide it wasn’t worth getting soaked to the bone. Of course, he didn’t.

“Stop following me, Billy.” 

“I just want to make sure you get in a taxi and make it safely to your front door,” which, to you, made it sound like he wanted to follow you all the way home.

“I’m not getting a taxi.” You kept walking, trying to ignore the rain and the cold. Billy fell a few steps behind before realising just what you were doing.

“You’re gonna walk home in the pissing down rain just to prove a point?” He called after you, still following.

“Yeah, Billy. The point is that I’m not going to fuck you.” You snapped back, almost losing your footing as you glanced back at him.

“I get it, you don’t want me, you’ve made that painfully fucking clear.” And you really could hear that pain in his voice.

“Then why are you still following me?”

“‘cause this is a scary neighbourhood and I don’t think a good looking guy like me would make it to the end of the block on his own?” You didn’t want to laugh at his stupid joke, and you did your best to stifle it, but it hurt. You didn’t want to laugh with him, didn’t want to think about the sweet and playful guy you went for coffee with all those weeks ago, it just made walking away from him harder. 

Billy kept following as you crossed the street, watching as you shivered and tried to push your wet hair from your eyes. He stayed silent, giving you space and waiting for you to speak again. And, of course, a few minutes later, you did.

“Why did you have to ruin it?” You asked, stopping beneath a flickering street light and turning to face him. He was drenched just like you, but it didn’t seem to bother him; perks of being an ex-Marine, you supposed. “We had a perfect night, why couldn’t you just let me keep that?”

“Because I don’t want a perfect night with you, I want every night; the perfect ones and the bad ones.”

“Don’t you realise how insane that sounds? You hardly know me, Billy.”

“I know enough. I know how I feel whenever I’m around you.”

“And how’s that?” You rolled your eyes.

“Happy,” he answered uncomfortably, like he didn’t want to admit it. “I feel like I can just be myself with you, and you’ve got no idea how difficult that is for me..."

“Why would that be hard for you?”

“Seriously?” You didn’t say anything. “You’ve seen Michelle, right? You’ve seen how she is with me?”

“Yeah, she wants to fuck you, like pretty much every other woman above the age of consent in New York...” You rolled your eyes, oblivious to the point he was trying to make.

“And you think any of them would give a shit if I didn’t have money, or if I didn’t look like this?” Again, you didn’t say anything, finally starting to understand what Billy was trying to say. “Every time someone like Michelle wants to talk to me, it’s to get something. I spent my whole childhood trying to get anyone to care about me, and now people just see me for what I am, not who I am, but not you...”

The vulnerability in his voice, written all over his face, was enough to soften your expression.

“Don’t,” he told you softly, “don’t you dare pity me.”

You stayed silent, letting your eyes linger for a moment more before continuing your miserable walk in the rain. It felt strange to suddenly have a new perspective on everything, on Billy. It hadn’t crossed your mind how it must feel to have people only interested in his status and looks - honestly, with the way he acted sometimes, you’d just assumed that Billy was perfectly happy with it.

Soaked to the bone and freezing cold, you pulled your arms across your chest, shivering and regretting your childish decision to walk home. Before you knew it, Billy was at your side, draping his jacket over your shoulders, it was wet through, but it helped block the cold wind.

“Billy -”

“I don’t want you freezing to death out here.”

You didn’t argue, you already knew that it would be pointless to try. He kept walking like the cold and rain didn’t bother him, like the only one being punished on this slow walk home was you. And, by the time you reached your street, you were close to tears again, the wind was biting and you felt like a child for putting Billy through it.

Once you were finally outside your building, you turned to face him. There were roughly a thousand and one things you wanted to say to him, and only about half of them were nice. You were still angry, still frustrated beyond belief that he wouldn’t just let you go, but having heard him out, you couldn’t help but think you had to take some of the blame; you’d let things get out of hand because you’d enjoyed your time with him and, in doing so, you’d given him reason to hope for something you couldn’t give him.

A heavy sigh slipped out.

“I’m home. You can go now, Billy.”

“I said I was going to make sure you made it to your front door.”

“I’m not gonna change my mind between now and the third floor.”

It was his turn to sigh. “I’m not expecting you to. I just need to know that you’re home safe.”

“And then you’ll give up and leave me alone?” 

“I didn’t say that.”

Again - again, you knew that there was no point fighting him, that he’d follow you up regardless of what you had to say. So, you pulled his jacket tighter around your shoulders and made your way inside, taking the stairs at an awkward pace, almost stumbling a couple of times (probably why Billy had wanted to make sure you actually made it to your front door, because the walk in the scold had done little to help you sober up). And, by the time you reached your door, you felt worse than ever.

Under the flickering hallway light, you could finally see him, see the state he was in; soaked to the bone, hair dripping, shirt clinging to his body. And it was your fault - of course he wasn’t going to let you walk the New York streets on your own at two in the morning. And you could have changed your mind at any time and ordered an Uber, but you hadn’t because you’d wanted to put him through that.

As if you hadn’t already put him through enough.

“Can I get my jacket back?” He asked, breaking a silence that you had allowed to linger a touch too long.

“Why did you have to do this, Billy?” Still clinging to his jacket, knowing that he couldn’t leave without it.

“Which part?” He asked, like he thought everything that he’d done had been perfectly reasonable.

“Any of it.” Because you weren’t sure why he was fighting so hard to keep you. No one had ever fought to keep you before.

“You flinched - every time that prick put his hands on you, you flinched. And it made me so fucking angry that anyone could touch you in a way that made you uncomfortable.” His voice turned low, barely masking his anger, but it wasn’t directed at you. “He didn’t even notice - what d’you think he would have done if you’d gone home with him, if you’d asked him to stop?”

You didn’t have an answer for that. All you could think about was how Billy had always stopped when you asked, how he’d noticed every little flicker of discomfort - how he’d noticed your discomfort even when he wasn’t the one causing it.

“I don’t care what you think about me, I’d never let anyone hurt you.” He didn’t have to go on because you were sure his reasons for following you home were exactly the same. “And I - I know I hurt you earlier, and I’m so fucking sorry, but seeing him grabbing you like that...”

He didn’t have to finish the thought. And you were glad that he didn’t. The rage in his voice said more than words ever could.

It was then, when your gaze dropped to your feet, that you noticed the puddles you were both making on the tiled floor. Billy was drenched and probably cold - would he even be able to get a taxi in that state? His penthouse was so far away, and -

“Do you want to come in?” You asked in little more than mumble. “Just - just to dry off a little?”

“Are you sure?”

“Just to get dry, nothing else, I’m not going to fu-”

“I wouldn’t even if you threw yourself at me.” He interrupted. It stung to hear, though you weren’t sure why; you’d just spent the last twenty minutes telling him to leave you alone. His hand on your cheek urged you to look up so he could see you. “Only because you’re drunk  and I’d never take advantage of you,” he explained, a ghost of a smile on his lips, “you’re never going to regret a night that you spend with me.

“Why do you have to say things like that?” You practically whined, hating that he was suddenly being the perfect gentleman despite every shitty thing you’d said to him in the last twenty-four hours.

“I’m not gonna make it easy for you to get over me,” he shrugged.

Turning, you fumbled with your keys, missing the lock a couple of times before Billy took over. He unlocked the door and let you into your dark apartment. Obviously Tammy hadn’t come home yet. Finding the light switch took more effort than you would have liked and you were pretty sure Billy was trying to keep himself from laughing, especially when you almost fell over pulling your boots off. But, all the while, he stood behind you, ready to catch you if you fell.

“Go sit down,” you told him, waving towards the den before heading off to the bathroom to grab some towels, not even noticing that you still had his jacket pulled tightly around you.

Catching sight of yourself in the mirror, you realised just how bad you looked; hair dripping, eyes red, and make-up running down your face. (If that hadn’t been enough to scare Billy off, what would be?) You spent a moment at the sink, trying to clean yourself up a little, scrubbing away the make-up with enough force to leave your skin feeling raw, before towel drying your hair. 

There was no noise in the apartment and you almost dared to hope that Billy had let himself out but, when you finally left the bathroom, a towel in hand, you found him in the den, sitting on the edge of the coffee table. He gave you a smile as you edged closer, holding out a hand like he was expecting you to offer him the towel. But you didn’t - that had been the plan, to let him dry himself off so he could leave - instead you stopped in front of him, standing far closer than you knew you should.

Billy didn’t say anything, he didn’t even move. Looking down you noticed the way he was gripping the edge of the table at his sides, holding tight, obviously not trusting himself not to reach for you. 

Even though you knew he was still fighting for you, he was respecting your boundaries.

Slowly, you pressed the towel to one side of his face, then the other, before towelling his hair. His eyes stayed on yours, letting you do what you wanted. Your attention moved to his neck, one hand drying his skin with the towel while the other slowly started to undo his shirt. Little by little you exposed his torso, running the towel across his chest and stomach, while you pushed the shirt off his shoulders. And Billy let you, he went along with everything until your fingers found his belt.

He took hold of your hand gently before standing slowly. When he reached for you, your breath caught and, despite every time you’d said no to him, you found yourself thinking yes. But Billy didn’t kiss you, didn’t even pull you into his arms. No, he gently pulled his wet jacket from around your shoulders and dropped it onto the table.

“You should get out of those wet clothes,” he told you softly and, despite the tenderness in his tone, it felt like a rejection. 

“Right,” you huffed, letting the towel drop from your hand. You weren’t even sure why you were upset - or what you’d even been planning to do when you got his pants off. As much as you’d been trying to convince him that you didn’t want him, some part of you obviously did.

You turned from him, but instead of heading towards your bedroom you made a beeline towards the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” He asked, getting to his feet and following after.

You didn’t need to answer, it became more than obvious once you’d fished a bottle of Jack Daniels from a cupboard and found yourself a mug. Billy let out a sigh, obviously biting back what he wanted to say; haven’t you had enough? For a second you just looked at him, expectant, but when it didn’t come, you decided to pour him a drink too (managing to splash the counter in the process).

Billy looked at the mug; a bright pink thing with the words Queen Bitch painted on in silver glitter. The corners of his lips turned up at the ridiculousness of it, eyes then rolling when he noticed that yours similarly was painted silver with the words Ray of Fucking Sunshine in gold.

When you took a drink, he did too. He let the silence linger for a few long moments, waiting to see if you had anything to say, but you were waiting for him to speak first.

“What are we doing?” 

“Drinking.” You answered, taking another sip from your mug and grimacing at the taste.

“Why?” 

“Because what else are we going to do?” You offered. Billy held up his hand in a confused half-shrug, needing you to be  more specific. “You’re half naked in my apartment but you don’t want to fuck me, so what else are we supposed to do?”

Even though you were being completely serious, Billy started to laugh but it wasn’t that playful that you’d come to enjoy pulling from him, it was something far darker. Still, you glared at him, silently demanding that he explained himself.

“There hasn’t been a single moment where I haven’t wanted to fuck you, sweetheart,” there was that sharp, barely restrained tone in his voice again. He placed his mug down and stepped towards you, your head tilting back the closer he got to keep your eyes on his. “You’ve got no idea the things I want to do to you - the things I will do to you once you admit that you’re mine.”

“I’m not yours,” you answered breathlessly, not sure which of you you were really trying to convince.

He reached for you and you let him, his hand finding your cheek and, despite your verbal protests, you leaned into the touch, letting your eyes fall shut for a few sweet seconds. You didn’t open them until Billy spoke again.

“I want you in the worst ways, I’m out of control when I’m with you, but I can’t stay away. I’m bad news, just like Krista said, and you’re right to try and tell me no. But, eventually, you’re gonna give in and then I’ll show you exactly how much I want you.” It felt like he was barely holding back again and you shivered. “Once you’re mine, I’m gonna ruin you.”

You struggled to swallow down the lump that had stuck itself in your throat, heart pounding in your chest, again struck by the notion that Billy was dangerous. But you still didn’t pull away, the heat of his palm on your cheek stoked a heat between your thighs and, although he’d already said no, you wanted him. Dangerous or not, some part of you still knew that Billy would never hurt you.

“I’m not yours,” you said again, lifting the mug to your lips and draining the rest of the Jack Daniels.

“Not yet,” he answered back.

“Maybe I’m the one who’s dangerous, maybe I’ll ruin you. You don’t know me, you don’t know what I’ve done. You think you want me but if you knew…” The mug was placed on the side and you made to move, half-thinking about throwing yourself at Billy, and half-wanting to grab his discarded drink, instead the floor seemed to shift and you fell forward. Billy caught you, holding you tight against his chest.

“Okay, time for bed, sweetheart.” And you were in no state to argue with him as he scooped you up into his arms.

CHAPTER NINE

END NOTES : I don't really have much to say about this one. I just enjoy the angst. Next chapter will take place more or less directly after this one, and we're finally going to learn a little bit more about reader (though please check the warnings on the next one because there's a few things that will probably come up that are potentially triggering). And, as always thank you so much for engaging with this story, I'm speechless how many followers I've gotten and the fact that the first chapter of this story now has over 100 notes!

Thanks for reading!!

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[huramuna]

banshee's lament - chapter 3.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

a former ward of alicent hightower and aemond's childhood companion, shera stark, returns to king's landing after ten years. ten years after the incident at driftmark that left her and aemond permanently disfigured. after so many years apart, shera and aemond are almost strangers. almost.

shera's voice sounds like blue diamond in this clip. a soft, dreamy whisper.

wordcount: 4.3k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence

story playlist

Shera didn’t waste much time getting back to her chambers. She was overwhelmed, confused and overall exhausted— and the day wasn’t even over yet. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she padded the stone to her rooms, hoping to the Gods, the old and the new, that someone wouldn’t stop and speak to her. 

“A bath, please,” Shera asked the chambermaids hastily once she reached her solar. “Scorching, as hot as possible. And… my oils, from my chest— if you please…”

They brought in the large copper tub and filled it with hot water, all the way near the top until Shera could see the wisps of steam billowing from it. The maids poured in vials of oil that she brought with her from Winterfell— lavender oil, rosemary oil and sweet honeysuckle oil. The concoction swirled into a lovely light purple color. 

“Will you need help undressing, miss?” one of the maids asked. 

“N-no,” she murmured. “Thank you— you may go. Return just before sunset.” 

Then she was alone. She could finally breathe. Wasting no time undressing, she shed her veil and choker and outer layers until she met the hard exterior of her corset. Fuck. Mayhaps she should’ve asked for help. Unwilling to call them back in, she grabbed a cheese knife from the small dining table near the balcony, slitting through the bindings of the corset like a lovely aged bleu. 

Moongeist nosed the latch to the balcony, prompting Shera to open it and let in the breeze from the sea. Nude at last, she all but jumped into the bath, which to her delight, was still scorching. She watched as the wolf sat on the terrace, nose poking out through the stone barrier. He took in the scent of the sea, the salty spray and lingering aroma of toiling waves— and of course, barked at a few seagulls. 

Her bones relaxed as she unpinned her hair, tossing the pins astray into the room— to either be stepped on later, or never found again. Shera let out an audible sigh, feeling her skin soften from the oils. This was the pinnacle of her days— she was very fond of baths and made her own bath oils. She loved the warmth, the enveloping heat of the water soothing her worry. It was like the most comfortable of blankets and she loved to get clean, to be clean. It was a ritual and a must for her to have a bath at least every other day. 

Her love for baths started because of Helaena, she supposed. When Shera arrived in King’s Landing all those years ago for the first time, she was a grimy and dirty child, wild to the bone, and detested baths. The maids didn’t know what to do with her, until they bathed Helaena and Shera together. They weren’t far apart in age at the time, Helaena being the polar opposite of Shera— but somehow she reeled her into normalcy. The princess would bring her wooden toys into the bath, much to the chagrin of her mother, and play with Shera, blow bubbles and tell stories. It was odd to everyone around them, as the two seemingly switched personalities when they bathed together. Helaena, usually a quiet child, would tell grandiose stories, while Shera would sit quietly, giving her complete and rapt attention to the princess. 

The girls bathed together until they were both eight and ten years of age respectively, but even then, they would be in the room with one another while they did— reading books out loud, gossiping, or just sitting in silence, enjoying one another’s presence. 

Shera’s undoubted companion in the Keep was Aemond, but she had a very close and special friendship with Helaena— a friendship that the both of them very much missed, subconsciously. It wasn’t as huge of a blow to Shera as losing Aemond, as the Lady of Winterfell and the Princess frequently wrote one another throughout the ten years apart. It was one of the only reasons Shera wasn’t completely mad. But, even so, letters can only do so much, can’t they? 

As much as she loathed this marriage and the ramifications of it… she would still be closer to her family, her real family, upon Dragonstone than in Winterfell. She laid in the bath until the water went cool, her mind wandering back to the encounter in the Godswood. Why would Daemon speak to her and with such a… driven attitude? What did he want? 

Her thoughts continued to flow, a finger tracing patterns in the mingling oils that lived atop the water. Did Helaena still like baths? If she so asked, would they be able to bathe together like old times? 

No– that would require… forgoing her veil and choker. Even if it was Helaena– she doesn’t know if she could truly bare herself to her– to anyone.

—

The hours stretched on until dinner, Shera pacing back and forth, working herself up to a point where Moongeist tugged on her sleeve with his teeth as an indication to calm down.

The maids who’d been assigned to her flittered around her like a flock of ptarmigan hens, pleading with her to let them dress her. She shied away from their touch, only allowing them to dress her in a new corset and skirts. 

She stayed in her veil, accentuating it with a few strings of pearls so mayhaps she wouldn’t look so haunting– a hope that always went unfounded, people found her so very terrifying either way.

Shera preferred to wear dark, muted colors and always had on some item of fur upon her; tonight’s being a gorgeous black and white mink stole, which Cregan had gifted her for her seventeenth name day four years ago. It was accompanied with one of her newly tailored dresses, one she sewed herself just a few moons ago and making some last minute alterations on the journey to King’s Landing. It was black lace, falling down to her feet and dragging behind her like a ghostly shadow. Coupled with a laced black veil, she looked in the mirror. 

The maid behind her glanced at her warily. “Are… are you in mourning, Lady Stark?” she asked timidly. 

“... no?” Shera blinked, taking in her appearance from her reflection. Ah. So, this is why people consist with the ‘Banshee’ title. Shrugging her shoulders, she wrapped the stole around her snugly

Letting Moongeist guide her to the dining hall, to which he followed the smell of roasting meats, she mentally prepared herself. Princess Rhaenyra was to attend, and with Rhaenyra was her brood of children and her rogue husband and the extended clutch of hatchlings– Baela and Rhaena amongst them. She felt sickly at the fact that she would be seeing the twins again, the former of whom was who disfigured her.

Walking into the chamber, the music was in full swing and everyone was already seated. Had she really been so late? All eyes turned to her and Shera scanned them with a bowed head, the tips of her fingers shaking as she locked gazes with Baela. A reminder of the pain that she’d caused, how she wielded the knife that cut Shera’s throat and blinded her in one eye. 

The wolf to Shera’s side let out the tiniest of whines, pushing Shera towards the table, and her seat between Helaena and Alicent– thank the Gods for small mercies. Although, she was directly across from Aemond, who hadn’t even blinked since she entered the room. 

“Oh, it's so good to have you here again, my dear,” Alicent hummed, taking one of Shera’s hands into her own. The queen was so warm, where Shera was cold. “It is just like old times, hm?”

“Beautiful pup, Shera,” Helaena whispered to her, a hand outstretched to Moongeist. “You see so well through him.” she cooed, a smile plastering upon her lips as the wolf licked her open palm.

“Yes… old times,” Shera responded softly, adjusting her veil. She looked to Helaena, who returned with a knowing gaze. “Hel?” she murmured, lower than usual. 

“Yes, dovey?” 

“… I’ve missed you dearly.” Shera whispered, offering her hand to the princess— to which they interlocked fingers. The two separately were considered touch-averse, with Shera shying away from touch and Helaena cringing at it. But the two had a deeper understanding of one another, it seemed. They always had, their bond only outshined by Shera and Aemond’s. 

But now, it’d be different, wouldn’t it? Aemond was a hot and cold mess to Shera— but Helaena welcomed her like no time had passed. It made her chest ache in a nostalgic way, tears threatening to spill. The good thing about her veil is that no one could see her cry. The whole day had been terribly overwhelming, taut with too many people wanting something from her, needing her to be someone she didn’t wish to be— is this how Helaena felt when she was married to Aegon? 

Tears did fall and Shera let them drip down her face, sinking and sliding from the mink stole to her legs. Helaena tugged on her hand. “Don’t cry, dragonfly,” she hummed. “Dance with me?” 

Shera blinked the tears away, even though they were replaced by new ones right away. “I… would love to. I will not be the most coordinated, though— will you guide me?” 

“Always.” the princess replied, pulling Shera from her chair and guiding her with a gentle hand to the space in the hall set aside for dancing. The music was lively and jaunty, with a lovely tune strummed from a fiddle, accompanied with a wooden flute. Helaena placed a hand on Shera’s waist, then kept their other hands interlocked. “Put your hand on my shoulder. I will lead— you can pretend I’m a gallant knight.” 

Shera snorted a giggle. “I do not want to dance with a gallant knight,” she mused as they began to sway. Helaena kept her upright and indeed took the lead, allowing Shera to stay close and follow her movements. “I want to dance with the butterfly princess.” 

“Ah, the butterfly princess!” Helaena cooed. “I suppose that can be arranged. What will that make you? Oh— my little wolf spider.” she giggled in return. 

It was the first time the entire day, mayhaps the entire fortnight, that Shera felt… happy. She felt weightless dancing with Helaena and felt like crying again— damn the emotions. “Please don’t leave me, Hela,” she murmured, almost silently through garbled tears. “I’ve been so alone.” 

Helaena led the dance off to the further corner of the room where they would have more privacy to speak, still swaying. “I wouldn’t leave you, Shera. The wolf spider’s been so alone— so alone in the cold,” she hushed. “Now you’ve come back to play with the dragonflies and the butterflies— but we must watch out for the birds, the black tailed magpies, and oh, the hawks and gulls, my sweet.”

“May I steal Lady Stark for a dance, sister?” Aemond suddenly cut in, so silent in his approach that Shera hadn’t even heard him at all.

“I don’t know,” Helaena looked to Shera. “Say the word, and I shall release a clutch of spiders into his bedchamber.” she whispered lowly, as if telling a secret. 

Shera cracked a smile. “It’s alright, Hela. If he is untoward, Moongeist shall bite him.” 

Helaena embraced her once more before giving her brother a mock threatening glance. Aemond swiftly replaced her, putting his hands on Shera’s waist. It felt… different. Different from how Helaena had them, and how Daemon had touched her earlier in the Godswood. It wasn’t friendly, nor slimy— it made her want to turn tail and run away, but it also made her chest warm, heart thumping like a rabbit’s. 

“My lady.” he greeted, putting one hand on her lower back to help her posture. “I do hope you won’t sic your dog upon me– yet.”

“My prince,” Shera responded, looking up at him. “Mayhaps I won’t, we shall see.”

“Does it haunt you? That they’re all here in one room?” he leaned down to whisper, swaying back and forth to the music, albeit a bit rigidly. He wasn’t nearly as good of a dancer as Helaena.

“I am always haunted,” she echoed, blinking slowly. She wondered if he could really see her face under her veil. He was looking so intensely at her and she was unsure if he was putting her together or picking her apart in his mind. “Are you?” 

“It’s an agitation, like a brood of mosquitoes.” Aemond answered gruffly, looking away from her now. He wasn’t telling the whole truth, she noted. His lone pupil wavered, looking everywhere but at her.

“Do you have nightmares about it?” she asked, fingers prickling under one of the buckles of his doublet absentmindedly. “I haven’t outgrown them. Not even after this long.” 

He scoffed. “Nightmares? I’m not a child.” 

Liar. Liar. Liar.

The servers interrupted as they began to serve the first course— Aemond helped guide Shera back to her seat. 

“Thank you for the dance.” she murmured as he pushed in her seat. 

“Hm.” 

The dinner continued, Shera staying quiet while she prodded at her food. She preferred to eat alone and only ate enough, slipping it under her veil to not seem rude. Cregan was having a jolly time down the table, talking the ear off of Jacaerys. Baela and Rhaena were whispering to one another, as were Rhaenyra and Daemon. Shera’s skin crawled as she stole looks at the four of them– the twins hadn’t said a word to her, nor did it seem they would, merely whispering like mice. Aegon had excused himself after the first course was served and did not return. Aemond remained staring at Shera the entire time.

Blinking, Shera stared back at him finally, raising her head to lock gazes with him. The subtle shift of her veil indicated she had cocked her brow, as if to say ‘Why are you staring?’

The motion wasn’t lost on Aemond, as they fell back into their own silent communications that they were so well versed in as children. He cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders, responding in kind, ‘You know why.’

Alicent stood up, “I would like to propose a toast– to the return of our beloved Shera, as well as the visit of her brother and warden of the North, Cregan Stark. I cannot imagine it was an easy journey, but we are so blessed that you’ve made it, especially to finalize something that has… been in the making for a few years,” she held up her cup of wine, to which everyone else held up theirs, including Aemond. “Princess Rhaenyra, Cregan and I have been in much talk of betrothals and the like. I would like to announce, formally, the betrothal of Shera Stark,” she paused, taking a breath, “And Jacaerys Velaryon.”

Shera’s breath caught in her throat, her nails sinking into the soft of her palm. She focused solely on Alicent, even if she could feel the searing brand of Aemond’s stare on her. She refused to look, she couldn’t— 

But her sole eye betrayed her, her head turning ever so slightly to gauge Aemond’s reaction. He looked like a statue, his lone pupil narrowed to a slit, like a dragon’s. His hands were placed together dutifully, but the veins near his knuckles were bulging with strain, the fervor of what could only be described as fury coursed through him. The look in his violet iris scared the hells out of Shera. ‘Twas only a moment they locked gazes, but she felt, she saw the barely contained rage, the burning of the city and beyond from Vhagar’s back— 

And then it was gone, as if the candle of ferocity had been snuffed out. He sat up straight, giving Shera one last eyebrow raise before turning his attention solely to his mother. It terrified her how quickly he was able to turn it off, to bury deep as if it never existed at all. 

Perhaps she had imagined it. Surely she did– he didn’t have such a volatile temper as a child, if she could remember correctly.

Clearing her throat, she raised her glass higher as Alicent finished the announcement, gesturing in Jacaerys’ direction, who did the same in return to her. She wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of living upon Dragonstone, nor did she feel she was fit to be the wife of Rhaenyra’s heir. But, ‘twas the way of things. 

She thought Jace, as he had insisted she call him, was well and fine. He was a bit taller than she with a boyish charm and curled brown locks. Their few meetings as adults, where he had so gallantly rode all the way up to Winterfell upon his dragon, he always kissed her hand and smiled at her. It was easy to forget that he was a part of her and Aemond’s maiming when she turned her mind off and became the little puppet Lady that she was supposed to be— but then she would wake up crying in the middle of the night, begging for them not to kill her—

“I would like to propose a toast,” Aemond’s voice cut through Shera’s thoughts like a sharpened blade, the horrid screeching of his swiftly kicked out chair causing her to cringe. “A toast— to our lovely banshee, and her strong husband-to-be. I do hope that Jacaerys is keen on sleeping on the floor whilst a dog warms his wife’s furs– and let us pray for Shera’s health once they ruminate over Dragonstone. Do you still get sea sick, my lady? I cannot imagine a wolf gaining sea legs any time soon.” 

“It’s none of your business, uncle–,” Jace countered, pushing back from his chair to stand.

“Aemond, don’t,” Alicent hissed quietly, gripping her goblet with an iron fist. 

“I’m merely expressing my joy for their coming union, mother. Seems the issue is a bit touchy, hm, Jacaerys?” Aemond’s mouth twitched into a toothy smile, but it was nothing of joy. It was like the open maw of a dragon, daring anyone to walk near, lest they be snapped into smithereens. 

Jacaerys walked a bit closer to Aemond, his hackles equally raised in a challenge. Shera’s observation of the two was quickly surmised; Jace was soft where Aemond was razor-edged. A fight between them would be of little challenge. The underlying rage in Aemond was apparent once more, simmering and bubbling in the pot, threatening to boil over and scald everyone within his reach. His words didn’t sound like he was about to fly off the handle– he was in complete control of every carefully placed barb, every pause in his speech was intentional for added dramatics, to piss off Jace– and Shera, it seemed.

“Do you really expect your nuptials to be fruitful, nephew? Have you ever seen her without her veil? I must say,” Aemond nodded his head toward Shera’s direction as he got closer to Jace, whispering in his ear as if not to let anyone else in on their conversation– Shera heard, though. “I’m quite curious myself– do you think that our dear cousin’s blade,” his lone eye looked to Baela, who was arm-in-arm with Rhaena, Daemon looming behind them like the Dragonmont itself, “Was sharp enough, for a clean cut? Mayhaps it’s a mangled mess under there. Best to keep the covering on for your wedding night, hm?”

“I dare you to say that again,” Jacaerys growled, his hand itching as he flexed and unflexed his fist. “You can say what you’d like about me, but you shall hold your tongue before my betrothed.” 

“Jace,” Shera murmured lowly, feeling for Moongeist as she got up from her own chair, shaking. The wolf pressed to her leg, guiding her to where Jacaerys was at arm's length. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder, whilst trying to quell the quiver of her bones, while keeping her eye upon Aemond. “‘Twas merely a jest– in poor taste… but a jest.” she had her head lowered diminutively, biting the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. Sure, the ‘jest’, as it was, hurt immensely to her already fragile psyche– but she had to keep a level head, especially here. 

Still holding his own goblet, Aemond’s nostrils flared as he watched Shera caress Jace, as if they were truly close. The tip of his brow twitched as he hardened his jaw, lowering his cup and proverbial feathers, remembering himself, remembering where he was. “A jest— of course. Though, I never was the jester of our group, was I? Once upon a time, it’d been you, Jacaerys.” the second son exhaled, eye still trained on Shera. But he approached Jace, hand outstretched. “Congratulations.” he said, his voice clipped. Once again, the rage had been shoved deep down and quelled for the time being.

Jace tentatively took his hand, nodding slowly. “Thank you, uncle,” he squeezed Aemond’s hand before pulling back. “You’re better with a blade than a joke, that is for certain.”

“Mayhaps we shall spar sometime, then?” Aemond suggested. Everyone in the room knew it was a chance for him to kick Jace into the dirt like he desperately wished to do presently. 

“Yes– on the morrow, uncle,” Jacaerys nodded. “Lord Stark should join us, yes? Let’s make a proper gauntlet out of it, then.”

Shera’s hand, in turn, retreated from Jace’s shoulder as she rested a hand on Moongeist’s head. Turning to Alicent, who looked on the edge of an anxious breakdown. “Thank you for the dinner, your grace. I am… feeling quite faint, so I fear I must retire,” Shera whispered, curtsying as best she could. Turning to Rhaenyra and Daemon, she bowed her head. “Princess, prince.” 

Rhaenyra gave a wry smile. “Feel better soon, dear.” 

Daemon said nothing, just nodding his head as his finger traced the rim of his cup. 

“Allow me to escort you, sister,” Cregan was at her side in an instant. 

“It’s not nec—,” 

“I insist.” 

It wasn’t a lie— Shera did feel quite faint from the events and excitement. Letting Moongeist guide her, she escaped the dining hall mostly unscathed, despite feeling a gnawing pain in the pit of her stomach. 

Keep the covering on during your wedding night– mayhaps it's a mangled mess under there.

“O-okay,” she responded monotonously, as if she wasn’t even in control of her own body, her own words. 

Cregan held her in his steady grip, guiding her out of the hall. He was quiet until they entered Maegor’s holdfast. “Dragons are quite tempestuous, aren’t they?” he began.

“… yes.” 

“Your childhood companion— the prince— he certainly had a lot of great things to say about you, didn’t he?” 

“… Cregan.” 

“Listen to me, Shera,” he said as they entered her chambers. “They’re not your friends— not anymore. They’re strangers to you.” 

“But—,” 

“They don’t know you anymore, they only knew who you used to be.” 

And you’re a shell of who you used to be. But that was left unsaid. 

“You shan’t waste your tears any longer on them, on him,” he continued. “And do not give me that look, don’t think I don’t hear you crying at night.” 

“Mayhaps I cry at night because you shoved me into something I am unfit for!” Shera shouted, her voice cracking, followed by a hiss of pain. Something I do not wish for. Jacaerys helped make me this way, Cregan. Don’t you care? Does it matter more than your fucking oath?

Cregan wanted to bite back, but instead furrowed his brow. “Are you alright? Shall I fetch a maester?” 

“N-no…” she whimpered, her voice broken and full of gravel. She pressed a hand to her throat, swallowing a cough. “… tea.” 

“Of course,” Cregan murmured, guiding his sister to sit on the loveseat near the fire. “I’ll get a maid… and… and the tea.” 

Shera nodded, watching him leave. She didn’t care for the pain, even if it felt like someone was dragging a brush of thorns inside of her throat— she felt like she was falling apart at the seams mentally, akin to her old mended dresses, the threads wilting and falling away. 

She felt lost. Lost in the fact that… she wasn’t sure she belonged anywhere. They thought her not cut out for Northern life from her delicate sensibilities— and she wasn’t cut out for King’s Landing for the same reason, except it wasn’t the physical environment, but the barbed tongues, the venomed words, the games of the mind. 

She didn’t belong. 

Would it even matter if she wasn’t part of the equation? Rhaenyra would get her alliance with the North somehow, Cregan would fulfill his oath, Jacaerys would have a number of other betrothal options. 

It mattered not that she was here. 

Didn’t it?

Keep the covering on during your wedding night– mayhaps it's a mangled mess under there.

Her jaw clenched all night as she nursed her tea to soothe her throat– but every other part of her was purely on fire. The one person in the entirety of this Gods forsaken world who knew what she felt, what she went through– the one other person who was there, who was on her side, who she… she lost everything for– was keen to jest at her disfigurement. 

She stood up from her chair, hours after Cregan had left her, throwing the porcelain at the wall. The teacup smashed into bits and pieces and she sunk her teeth into her own lip until she tasted copper. The kettle was next, hocked upon the mantle of the fireplace as it too, split apart. 

I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home.

Her damaged vocal cords mustered her wails they best they could, forlorn and haunting and low– 

Where was home? She wanted to go home, home– but she didn’t belong anywhere. Where was her home? 

The banshee yowled like a creature with a broken leg, echoing against the walls, ever enclosing.

[demonicbaby666]

Something New

One Shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds 

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut, literal pure unfiltered smut 

Words: 4.3k+

Warnings: NSFW, smut, cursing, dom!JJ, sub!reader, oral sex, fingering, bondage, degradation, praise, hair pulling, light choking, overstimulation, spanking, edge play, strap on use (J), I low-key feel like this counts as BDSM (but not sure).

Summary: The affair between you and JJ has been going on for a little while now and though you felt you wanted more for the relationship, you weren’t quite expecting to be met with what JJ gave you. 

A/n: I know I said I’d post Wanda next but honestly missed writing for JJ and this is ummmmm, something. I apologise (not really) for the filth I have curated, honestly no idea what the hell has come over me. If we talk/are mutuals, I have no connection to this and don’t ever bring this fic up or i won't be able to look at myself the mirror </3

It started with lustful glances exchanged both ways, training sessions leaving your body drenched in sweat clearly seemed to work for JJ. Then after one too many ‘extra support’ sessions - sessions you both knew you never needed - things quickly took a turn. You knew it was wrong, of course you did. JJ was married and on top of that, technically, your supervisor. 

Yet, there you were, for the god knows what time, six months of quickies and secret fucking behind you, in your bed writhing beneath JJ as she had her fingers pounding deep inside you, pulling moans, whimpers and screams from you. She was an addiction that you didn’t want to rid yourself of, not that you knew how you would. 

“Fuck, fuck, don’t stop.” You begged, helplessly grinding down on two fingers that were sliding in and out of you at a pace you hadn’t even known possible. She brought her head down to your ears, probing the shell of it with her tongue.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She husked. 

The sex that dripped from each slow syllable pushed you over the edge and before you could prepare for it, your orgasm barrelled over you, prying a silent cry to leave your agape mouth. Her slender digits helped you ride out the full length of your orgasm until you had to reach out for her wrist and stop her.

Slowly she slipped her fingers out and slumped down next to you. Even with your eyes closed, hopelessly trying to get your breathing back to normal, you could still feel her eyes glued to you. 

“How can I help you?” You asked, letting the amusement peek through your tone.

“I want to try something new.” 

That caught your attention. Your eyes fluttered open and you turned to JJ, shooting her a curious look, and purely because you could, you let your hooded eyes shamelessly wander up and down her toned body. It was rare to see JJ nervous but that’s what her body language was pointing towards, avoiding eye contact, slightly fidgeting around on the bed, you couldn’t help but try and deduce the direction in which the conversation was heading. You waited until she shifted her weight onto her elbow and met your gaze before vocalising your interest.

“And what is this something new?” You asked, making sure to show her she had you undivided attention, not that she needed any reminder of the power she held over you, and that power was clearly demonstrated with what came next. 

She crashed her body on top of yours, pulling the energy she’d drained from pushing you over the edge repeatedly out of thin air. Hands wrapped around your wrists pinning you down. Her head crept down to mercilessly grasp the flesh of your pulse point between her teeth, biting down before holstering herself back up and comfortably perching herself on your hips. 

“I want all of you.” She said, her opal eyes shamelessly traveling over your upper body. “I want to push you to your limit.” 

Just those words elicited a groan to crackle in your throat, filthy images of being taken in all different ways till you were all but screaming crept into your mind and you knew you didn’t need convincing to know this was what you wanted too. Control in the bedroom was far from foreign between the two of you and it was clear who held the title of being the dominant, that had been clear from the get-go. 

“Then take me.” You breathed out, heat already pulsating between your legs at the prospect of being used and utterly spent. “I’m yours.” 

The words were music to JJ’s ears, it was plain to see with the newfound glow that seemed to settle in her eyes. Quickly that shimmer was overshadowed by a dark lusting hue that ebbed into the iris’s that were now filled and darkened with pure fiery desire. It had been barely a minute since JJ had pulled your second orgasm from you, yet somehow this whole situation had you wet and ready to go for however longer she wanted. 

A serious expression washed over her face, and she released your wrists, “We’ll take this slow, if it gets too much say stop and we stop. No ifs, no buts.” 

Bringing your hands up to cup her cheeks, you pulled her back down till her lips were hovering over yours, hot breath tickling your lips, “I trust you.” you whispered. The words seemed to have some effect on JJ because she crashed her lips down on yours for a passionate kiss, time seemed to fade away just that little bit. Her tongue crept between your lips and you willingly let her in. 

The kiss quickly heated up, small mewls left your lips and fell into JJ’s mouth, clearly spurring her on, her hands began trailing a path down to your waist, which she gripped onto, with a little more force than necessary. 

“Put your hands up.” she mumbled into the kiss. 

Too preoccupied with the sensations running through you body and between your legs, you hadn’t processed what JJ had said until her nails dug into you causing you to whimper and do exactly as you’d previously been told. Pulling away and leaning over the side of the bed, her hands fumbled around the floor. The room was dim, stopping you from seeing what JJ had grabbed, though the sound of leather running along denim gave you a good idea. 

“Wrists together.” she commanded and once again you did as you were told, this time a lot faster.  

She leant over pushing your hands back until they made contact with cold metal, then expertly looped the leather around your wrists and through the railing. She gave it a tug to test it was sturdy, you had to bite down on your lip to stop a small moan from escaping. 

“Is this okay?” Her voice was softer as her eyes studied your face for any signs of discomfort.  

Before she had even finished the question you were nodding, a devilish grin spread across her face in response to your eagerness and you could see the excitement growing beneath the shimmer in her eyes. 

She shuffled back down your body, her slick arousal leaving a trail along your stomach, indicating you weren’t the only gaining pleasure for this little game you had begun to play. She stopped her shuffling, perched over your hips again she leaned down to take a hardened nipple in her mouth, circling her tongue around the bud and wedging her thigh between your legs. Her free hand came to cup the neglected breast, taking your nipple between her fingers, twisting it whilst grazing her teeth along the other. 

Your breath hitched and your hips bucked, pushing your clit onto JJ’s thigh, a small moan caught in your throat. JJ laved the sensitive flesh beneath her tongue, hot molten blood coursed through your veins, waves of pleasure washed over your whole body, and you were desperate for more. Slowly your hips began to grind against the sticky thigh between your legs, the relief you felt was instantly halted when JJ pushed a hand down on your hip, stopping you from moving. She pulled away from your chest and stared down at you. 

“Not so fast. I say when and if you cum.” Her tone had a bite to it you’d never heard before, it was both scary and arousing and you didn’t quite understand why it was sending a whole new flood of wetness to pool between your legs. “Understand?” 

Nervously fidgeting on the bed, you nodded, trying hard to hold in the frustration that was once dormant. “I said, do you understand?” She barked, pinching tightly on your nipple. 

“Fuck!” You all but screamed out, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure coursing through you. If it wasn’t her hand anchoring you down, your hips would have flown off the mattress, “yes, I understand.” 

“Good.” She brought her head back down, this time peppering kisses along your collarbone, pausing now and then suck on specific spots that exerted more of a vocal response from you, leaving behind blotches of darkened bruised skin. You were fighting hard against your body, your hips were still being held firmly in place, but that didn’t stop you from feeling the ghostly presence of JJ’s thigh. It was torture. 

Just when you thought you might have to beg, JJ relieved the pressure on your hips and brought two fingers to swipe down from your clit to tease your entrance and you couldn’t help but let out a shallow breathed moan. Just as quickly as they came, they were snatched away. JJ smirked against your skin before she pulled away to examine the glistening digits.

“Is all of this for me?” she teased.

“Yes.” you whined, shame spiralling in the pit of your stomach at how consumed you were with the need to be touched and devoured, it dawned on you then, you were putty in JJ’s hands, at her mercy, she had the power to do whatever she wanted and you knew that should have scared you, instead you found it only turned up on more. What sounded like an almost growl verbated in JJ’s throat and animalistic look shadowed over her face. Darkened lust-filled eyes locked themselves onto yours, that were now desperate and silently pleading, begging her for more. 

“Open.” 

The smell of your own arousal filled your nose before you closed your lips around JJ’s fingers and licked them clean, enjoying the quiet groans that JJ let out through her parted lips. Slick fingers left your mouth, without so much as a second to breathe they were shoved hard and deep inside you, JJ’s free hand coming up to loosely wrap around your neck. 

Around your tight walls you felt two slender fingers slide in and out painstakingly slow but god awfully hard. Your mouth was still open trying to control your unsteady breathing, each thrust forcing you to pull in sharp breaths that filled your lungs to the brim. 

The rise and falling of your chest quickened when JJ’s fingers began picking up speed, your body was the only thing you had control over, and you were fighting to maintain it. Your knuckles grew white from holding onto the railings, and you couldn’t stop small whimpers barrelling out of your kiss-stained lips. JJ lowered herself back down leaving a series of kisses down your jawline to your breast, then began alternating between, sucking, biting and laving each nipple. The tension that was steadily growing in your core reached an all-time high when JJ’s palm continuously brushed against your clit, you closed your eyes letting the room fade to darkness, relishing the feeling of your body being taken over and consumed with pure pleasure.

“I think I’m going to-”

Then nothing. Your eyes flickered back open. You realised her fingers had come to a halt inside you, and if the look on JJ’s face told you anything, it was evidently intentional. The control you previously thought you had over your body slipped through your grasps and along with a small part of your sanity.

“When and if I say.” She reminded you. 

It should have annoyed you, it should have sent you spiralling into a masochistic fit of rage, instead it set your whole body alight. Somehow the words unlocked something deep seated that was rooted within you, every passing second you were falling deeper into desire, a desire you didn’t even think yourself capable of having. Yet, splayed out on the bed, hands bound, orgasm at the mercy of one powerful blonde, it seemed entirely plausible that this was exactly what you wanted. And within that moment you let yourself be consumed by submission. 

Within the next few minutes JJ had stolen two more orgasms from you. You were tittering on the verge of tears, your skin was on fire, legs shaking from the overwhelming need to cum and wrists sore from wrestling against your restraint. Blonde hair tickled your chest, stomach, then thighs until JJ was nestled between your legs. You would never tire of that sight, or the feelings that accompanied it. 

Her tongue ran through your drenched folds and you could feel the vibrations echoing in JJ’s throat as she let the taste of you coat her tongue. Every breath was staggered, leaving your mind in a state of bewilderment with the lack of oxygen you were intaking. Traitorous tears steadily streamed down your face when JJ began sucking on your sensitive clit, her teeth grazed over it and your whole body spasmed, the sound of metal clanked and echoed through the room. When JJ’s tongue continued its slow teasing, you couldn’t take anymore. You yanked and pulled your bound hands, wishing they were free so you could hold her in place and end this cycle of madness. 

“You’ll hurt yourself.” JJ mumbled into your cunt, delicious vibrations prompting your hips to move of their own accord, helplessly searching for more stimulation that you were being deprived of.

“I need to cum, please.” You sobbed out. Desperate tired eyes searched for a morsel of mercy as you bore them down on JJ. For a split second her gaze softened, pity settling over crazed pupils before returning to their original domineering, stone cold state. 

“I think we can make that happen,” three fingers abruptly entered you; they slithered in and out at an alarming pace with next to no build up. “Seen as you asked so nicely.” 

Too fixated on the wet sounds of sucking coming from between your legs you closed your eyes and let yourself drown in the undulating sensations consuming every inch of your body, missing the hand that snuck up to cup a tender breast. Two fingers clasped around a nipple, squeezing firmly, your clit was sucked harder, and the three fingers were joined by a fourth, stretching and filling you completely. You were being toppled headfirst into the most powerful orgasm you’d ever had and from what it seemed, this one would be carried out. 

Three particularly hard thrusts pushed you over the edge, stomach muscles twitched and your whole body sprang from the bed, screams of ecstasy filled the room as JJ made sure you felt the full extent of your orgasm, your thighs crushing her skull never deterring her. Endorphins dispersed all over your body, licking every nerve, tingling every atom. 

It was only when you pulled yourself away, regaining consciousness you weren’t exactly sure when you’d lost, did she stop. She was a sight to behold, the lower portion of her face glistened in the low light, cheeks flushed, beads of sweat dripping down her forehead. 

Crawling back on top of you, JJ loosened the belt and held your swollen wrists, running small circles over the inflamed area with her thumbs, she placed gentle kisses on each. Her fingers intertwined with yours, puncturing the intense bubble that had formed around the two of you and letting in something entirely different; a warm safe feeling swept through the air, it was settling, it allowed you to take a moment, to feel the blonde curls tickle your shoulders, to hear the unsteady breath that warmed your face, to inhale wafts of vanilla and a hint of something sweeter, it allowed you a few extra seconds to almost taste the smell of honey linger on your tongue. 

A voice broke through the silence, filling the bedroom; calm, controlled, undertones of what sounded to be an abundance of mixed emotions still managed to permeate through her silky tone, “Are you okay?” 

Ocean eyes anchored you back down to reality, that and the sudden extra weight of a body pressed against your own, “Never been better.”

“Do you want to keep going?” 

“God yes, just let me catch my breath.” 

Her lips curled at either end, revealing faint smile lines that crept up to her nose, cheekbones jutted out and a swarm of excitement advanced through your body, ramping you up for what was soon to come. JJ climbed off you, riding a high you didn’t want to think about the fact you found the loss of her body pressed against your own unbearable. Instead, you let your eyes wander over her, memorizing each freckle, each curve, each scar, so that when the time came for her to leave - as it did most nights - you’d only have to close your eyes to see her once more. 

“Good.” She pulled the bedside table drawer open and rummaged around for a few seconds before pulling out what she wanted, “Turn around and lay on your stomach when you’re ready.” 

The sight of JJ placing the harness around herself awoke something deep inside you, body moving before your brain registered what you were doing until the mattress dipped and shaped itself under your chest. 

Hands curled around your hips, sliding gently around curved flesh then tugging you up until you were on your knees, legs spread apart. Cold air hit your pussy whilst JJ got back on the bed behind you, shuffling forward until hard silicone prodded at your entrance. 

“Someone’s eager.” She playfully remarked. 

With no warning she pushed her full length in, your whole body jolted forward from the abrupt intrusion, - which JJ quickly accommodated for - resting her hands on either side of your hips, to firmly pull you back and hold you in place. She began slamming herself in and pulling out with agonising slowness, over and over, never for a second picking up her pace. 

You were nearing dizziness from the non-stop stimulation you were receiving, each thrust sending cataclysmic signals throughout your body, blood pumping pure fire that dispersed itself over every inch of exposed skin the air licked. 

The end of the marathon was so close in sight, orgasm teetering just out of reach, the pressure having built up over gruelling minutes. JJ slid in and out, progressively getting slower, coming finally to a halt. She bent over, hot breath tickling your earlobe before it was sucked into a warm wet mouth.

“Tell me what you want.” 

“Please JJ, fuck me.” You shakily pleaded, it was half assed and you both knew it. But with her inside you refusing to move when you were on the precipice of an orgasm, it seemed all you could get out. 

“That was pathetic.” She taunted, pulling herself back up and beginning to slide out.

“No no,” venomous tears stung in your eyes, “please just fucking fuck me JJ!” You screamed out, the agony of being brought to the brink again clouded your judgment and you hadn’t quite understood what had come over you. 

“Much better.” she cooed, a smirk lining her pink lips, “but don’t go thinking you can shout at me.”

A stinging pain ran through your body as her hand smacked down on your ass, before you could register the pain, she was trusting back into you, the tightness in your abdomen quickly returning. Her nails dug into your hips, gripping tightly so you couldn’t push back into her, though, that didn't stop you from trying. When you did, you were met with another jolt of pain coming from your ass. 

“So greedy.”

“S-sorry,” you sobbed out, “Just p-please JJ, harder.” 

She grabbed hold of your hair, slowing down her thrusts ever so slightly and you could have cried out until you realised, she was waiting for the go ahead. You hummed your consent and instantly she yanked you up, your neck and back now at an uncomfortable arch. That didn’t stop JJ from picking her pace back up, if not faster than before, slamming deep into you. You may have been in a not so ideal position but nothing other than cries of pleasure left your lips.

The new position allowed the strap to slide perfectly along your g-spot, embers of fire burned in your chest, your heart beating almost in time with slapping sounds of JJ’s slender thighs against your ass. You lost all your composure when her free hand snaked around your chest and roughly squeezed one of your breasts, your knees almost buckling under you. 

“You like it when I fuck you like this?” 

And that did it. The outer body experience of looking down at yourself whilst JJ mercilessly had her way with you, it flicked a switch inside of you and when JJ didn’t stop, you knew she too felt the change. You knew she wanted to pull every morsel of pleasure from you, till you were begging her to stop, and who were you to deprive her of that. 

"Yes, oh god, yes!"

She didn’t stop when you were thrashing your upper body down against the mattress, gripping onto the bedsheets for dear life, or when you came for the second time, not even when you were filling the room with blood curdling screams, not when a third orgasm joined the second, she kept going. 

“Kiss me,” it was almost sobbed out and you knew it wasn’t your place to be making demands, but you needed her, you needed to feel all her everywhere, “please Jayje.” 

The hardened look on her face instantly fell and was replaced with a look akin to that of pure adoration. Her fingers released their grip on your hair, moving down to cup the side of your face, where she wiped away stray tears. You hadn’t quite known when they’d slipped from your eyes, but you found yourself silently thanking them for the comfort they sought out from JJ. Slowly she pressed her lips on yours and kissed you softer than she’d ever done before. 

The hand on breast pushed you back against her chest before descending ever so slowly and you knew JJ was waiting to see whether it was okay before she picked things back up, when no objection came, she slowly placed two fingers over your clit and circled the sensitive nub. 

“I don’t know if I can cum again.” you whimpered. You didn't say the word, you didn't say stop, because deep down you knew you wanted this, you wanted her to push you to your limit. 

“You can do it baby.” 

Somehow this became a challenge, some way to prove something to JJ and with her hands gently caressing your face, holding you tight against her, you were certain you would win this.

The change in pace alongside the sudden encouragement sent you into overdrive and with each tender thrust you felt JJ more than ever. She pulled you back in for a searing kiss that knocked the wind out of you. Pushing closer against her you felt the connection deep within you, her skin burning into yours, all the underlying feelings you’d been pushing down came to the surface and all you wanted was to stay in this moment forever. 

Tidal waves of emotions coaxed your whole body into a pre-emptive orgasm, and you latched onto JJ as she fucked you into a state of utter bliss, head falling backwards onto her shoulder, stars danced across your line of vision and the room faded into darkness. The only anchor you had left were the muscled arms that held you firmly upright. 

When your sight finally came back JJ was still holding you, both arms wrapped around your waist. A small moan caught in your throat when she slowly pulled out of you, the tenderness making the small movement almost painful. Finally letting your body rest, you turned on your back, ignoring the sheets that cling to your drenched body and watched JJ remove the strap. 

“Are you okay?” She asked laying beside you, moving damp hairs from your face. 

“I think I died for a second.” You chuckled out. 

A low laugh came from JJ, peering at her, she was practically glowing. Lines of definition caught your eye; a satisfied hum wormed its way from your ears, deep into your chest when you grazed your fingers over faint abs. Her arms wrapped protectively around you and the dread began to set in, it was temporary, it all was. This wasn’t the relationship you’d managed to trick yourself into believing it was in moments where she held you for long minutes after taking you to heights you hadn’t quite known were possible.

“Stay.” you murmured into the silence. 

“We both know I can’t.”

Without quite meaning to you let your desperation wash over your face and body. It’d previously niggled away at you that you’d never have a ‘normal’ relationship with JJ, nevertheless it still hurt when reality clawed its way into the intimate bubble you’d created with her.

“Next time.” She said, placing a chaste kiss to your temple and getting up to locate articles of clothing that were dispersed across the floor. “I promise.”

“Wait,” reaching out, you pulled her on top of you, she opened her mouth, but no words had time to come out before you flipped her over and kissed her with everything in you. Pouring your heart and soul into something you knew would only be fleeting. “Is this okay?” 

Opal eyes stared longingly into your desperate filled eyes, reading you like a book. It wouldn’t have been hard to grasp what was going on in your head, you hated that you wore your emotions on your sleeve. It was a dangerous quality to have, it left you bare and exposed, at the mercy of another.

“I need you.” You all but whispered.

One curt nod told you all you needed to know. You kissed every inch of her body you possibly could, mapping out her skin and scorching the feel of each kiss deep in your mind. You repaid her in the only way you could, pleasuring her in any and every way you knew, never wanting to forget the night you tried something new. 

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[killuintense]

❝ see you, leon ❞

rookie!leon x fem!reader.

Warning: first part, second part.

summary: for Leon wasn't being enough to have you in secret, if it were up to him, he would love you in front of the whole world.

content: 4.3k words, fluff, semi-established relationship, cute and needy Leon, possessive and capricious Leon, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, mention of oral sex (m and f receiving), carefree home moments, pet names.

note: finally the last part of this fic that i loved writing so much, i was really surprised to see everyone who asked me to continue. Thank you very much for that ♡ now i hope you enjoy it and see you in other one shots or fics ♡ i love y'all :p

You could list as many things as you needed to about leon, about how attentive he was, the bad jokes he could tell, how much he would curse when something scared him or his work didn't go as he expected. You loved those little moments you spent with him where there could only be complicit glances and low touches, soft and innocent caresses that made your day less horrible. That month and a half that had passed had given you the opportunity to get to know him, to understand him and to like him more and more. Sometimes you even got scared counting the number of times you thought about him. When you walked through the center of the city and you saw a coffee shop and it reminded you of the horrible coffees that leon prepared, but you drank them anyway because, from your point of view, they were the most delicious in the world; or when you passed by a store and you saw a teddy bear and you thought of him, being someone soft, silly and a little rough, but always trying to help others like the angel he was. But most of all with you.

Things had really become a lot more intimate between you in those weeks. Not just intimate in the sexual sense of the word, but rather that intimacy that only the two of you understood, where with looks you told each other everything you wanted without needing to talk, where you laughed at the same meaningless things, where you had your own special words and moments. Like when he would tell you that thanks to him and his contributions they managed to discover one more clue in that investigation that was taking place in the police department, and you would congratulate him saying 'that's my cute pookie patootie' and he would get upset, but deep inside his heart would jump and he would feel warm. Or like when you were stressed out about final exams and he would take you for a ride in the squad car to take your mind off things, telling funny and embarrassing anecdotes from his time at the police academy.

"Seriously! Major Krauser was the worst, he told me that if I didn't manage to run 20 times all over the training field without stopping he would make me walk around the rooms naked" your face was flushed and your cheeks hot, remembering that angrily as you drove through that starry night. Your laughter, however, meant that that experience had not been in vain, now I could hear that melody coming from your lips, while your hands clenched your stomach and you denied asking me to stop.

"God, Lee, I'm really sorry but it's too much" you laughed again, wiping away those tears that the laughter had caused you, while you brought your hand to his cheek and caressed him gently. "I'm thankful that hadn't happened to you, you'd be even more traumatized" you joked, watching as he stuck his tongue out at you in mock anger and kept driving. You didn't know where he was going, but just feeling the breeze on your face, his voice and his beautiful, steady chatter made you forget about your worries, about what was overtaking you.

You had taken a special liking to each other. Leon seemed to have a little angel by his side every time he saw you, every time he referred to you with that proud smile that someone as beautiful and special as you were was paying attention to him. He noticed how all your attention went to him when he talked to you, how you analyzed the little details to help him every time you could.

Now you seemed to spend more time at the police station and had even started helping with the paperwork, almost as an excuse to keep seeing Leon and to 'spend more time with your father', even though you hardly saw him. And Leon couldn't have been more excited at the thought of seeing you going back and forth with the paperwork, handing it to him in an orderly fashion that relieved him of his work, or when you met in the break room and talked excitedly about the finished paperwork. You brought joy into his life and he felt he was lost because of you, because of your presence that filled him with an inexplicable and suffocating love. It suffocated him to know that at the university there were other guys who talked to you, that when you went out you were in danger of anything happening to you and you wouldn't come back, when you had attentions with some other cadet at the police station and you ordered their papers or offered coffee to them instead of him. It drove him crazy that others didn't know about the times you kissed or hid in each other's arms, giving out suggestive caresses without anyone noticing. He needed you to walk around with a sign on your chest that said 'property of Leon Kennedy' for them to stay away from you immediately.

And that itself was one of the things you loved most about Leon. On the outside he always seemed so helpful, kind and shy with other people, and with you he was no less, always being a gentleman who sought to court you and be helpful to you at all times. But he was not always so innocent. Especially when they were hugging, almost as gentle as ever, and he would run his hands curiously down your waist to your bottom, caressing and squeezing it. You always scolded him, but you didn't pull away, you even seemed to move closer to his touch, and even though they soon had to stop because there were people going all over the station, he took advantage of every second to hold your body in his hands by heart.

In fact, they had continued with their slightly over the top approaches. Shit, you couldn't lie but that man was addicted to eating you. Every chance he got he stroked you just enough leaving you wet and ready to have you in his mouth, making you moan his name over and over again as he held you gently and his tongue rammed into you with a desperation that drove you to orgasm. He was so needy. And you were so addicted to seeing him need you, sometimes he didn't say it, but he loved how you sought to suck him off wherever you were. You remembered that time when he shyly wanted to reproach you about the guy who kept you five minutes too long in college to talk to you, and he was sure it was to flirt with you.

"Yeah, sure, I'm sure it was to talk about homework..." he mentioned sarcastically, you could tell he was saying it almost like a tantrum, turning his gaze from you as if that little scene could get you to pay attention to him alone. He loved your attention and thirsted for it whenever he could, so he softened further when you grabbed his jacket sleeve and gently tugged, giving him a playful giggle.

"Lee..." you were getting closer and closer, and you knew it was quite dangerous considering that you were in the corner of an empty room at the university, where you had brought him to talk because of that cutting behavior he had taken out of nowhere "Don't be mad at me, baby" you felt him gasp at that nickname, looking at you with his mouth shining from licking his lips, hungry for you. You kissed in a way that you felt his hands squeeze your hips and making you almost unintentionally feel the bulge in his pants. And you always loved to spoil him, to make him feel good. You loved to feel the way his legs trembled and he controlled himself not to cum the second you put him in your mouth, like in that moment, where he pushed his cock again and again against your throat "I love to fuck ya throat, damn it's so deep" he whimpered under his breath saying how good you made him feel, that he wanted you all to himself, that your attention should be his alone. He would always cum so desperately, take your hair between his fingers and stretch deeper inside you to the point where the hangings would begin. But it felt so good that you ignored him and chased his orgasm to have your reward; his essence so hot and thick in your throat filling you mercilessly.

Then he would become the most sensitive and cute little thing, as if there was nothing left of that uncontrolled Leon, almost fainting in your arms when he calmed down and you hugged him "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." his chest would move frenetically and he would stroke your hair, soothing the tight pain his fingers had left earlier; but you loved him, you loved that every tiny touch of him remained on your skin reminding you how good he could make you feel. But you always laughed and reminded him that you had ruined his hair that morning too, choking him between your thighs as he ate you hungrily, moaning against you, so wet and weeping for his tongue. You needed each other more and more, those touches and caresses weren't enough, having each other's mouths was intoxicating but it didn't make you drunk. They needed more.

You left Leon's bed lazily. You wore Leon's shirt, it was loose fitting and fit you like a short dress, filling you with the warmth of his scent as you grinned like a fool as you made your way to the kitchen. Both had been resting all that Saturday, your father had left town for work and you were able to sneak away with Leon to his house for the weekend. You were sure that your father would murder Leon if he found out about it, but in his own words, he would be willing to take that chance.

You headed towards the kitchen with curiosity while observing everything, laughing under your breath; there were things placed in an almost clumsy way, like the plates tilted in an uncomfortable area of the cabinet, or the glasses too far away from your reach. It made you tender to realize that it was obvious that he lived alone. And that really had been the best morning of your life. Waking up and seeing your boy slumped on the pillow with incomparable tranquility, breathing heavily as his arms tightened around your waist and his curves melted into the softness of the sheets. The skin of his bare upper torso, his broad back and full of small freckles and moles being illuminated by the morning sun was a blessing. The bed smelled of him; that masculine yet clean scent that Leon had, that you could swear was very similar to the perfume of a rose, mingling with your sweet scent that you soon let permeate making his sleep deeper than ever.

"Up so early?" you heard his husky voice and a soft yawn, bringing you out of your thoughts with a small start as you cursed for being startled. You turned around with a frown ready to scold him but your voice caught in your throat when you saw him with that facade he had when he first woke up. His blond hair was slightly tousled to one side, and although it wasn't very long it fit the contours of his face perfectly. He had a wonderful body, he wasn't exactly a skinny boy, he had everything in place and with a volume that made you want to squeeze and bite him. His abdomen smoothly marked by the training at the police academy and the V-shape that was made into a light trail of hair that took you to travel beyond his pajama pants. You swore that if it weren't for his drowsy state, he'd see you drooling like a fool.

"God, you scared me" you laughed, and after feeling your face warm from your recent thoughts, you turned your back to him and started heating water to pour coffee for both of you. Leon laughed and walked over to you to hug your back, wrapping his arms around your waist. It was wonderful how his muscles seemed to squeeze you tight enough, sharing that characteristic warmth with you.

"I didn't know you'd look so good in my shirt in the morning" his voice was drowned out by having his mouth sink into your neck, leaving soft kisses that caused you to melt like chocolate in the sun. He had no mercy for you.

"Kennedy, hands where I can see them, it's too early" you joked turning to kiss him. You couldn't resist him and his loving touches, his hands seeking to reassure you that you were there and not somewhere else, with someone else. Your mouths joined in a synchronized but awkward dance, both wanting to own each other. However, you decided to pass him the coffee cup before the kiss went to the next level, hearing a moan from him.

"You know you can't escape my kisses forever, don't you?" he raised both eyebrows and bumped his cup with yours in a playful toast-like fashion, stealing a soft chuckle from you. You loved that even just waking up he was like that with you, as honeyed and gooey as a jar of natural honey. So cloying that it forced you to pinch his cheeks in an attempt not to explode with love.

That day you acted like a couple who hadn't touched each other for months. Endless kisses, caresses here and there, and hugs where more than once you fell asleep in the tranquility of his arms. They had watched dozens of movies and eaten popcorn and chocolates like two bears hibernating under the warmth of blankets. They joked constantly and wouldn't stop chattering in the middle of the film, throwing out sarcastic comments and complaining about 'how bad horror movies were these days'. And you couldn't blame Leon, a young man from the nineties who grew up on eighties horror and you a lover of the classics, it seemed almost like fate.

However, at one point you both seemed to start ignoring the movies and put the snacks aside. That little kiss that had started as a simple token of affection ended up turning into a hungry kiss where the lion's hands traveled all over your body with curiosity. Both were aware that they didn't want to live from each other's mouth anymore and that they needed another kind of approach, but you couldn't avoid feeling exalted by the whole situation; it was the first time that things went too far and, although a little shy, both looked at each other with complicity when the hands needed to move away all possible clothes, being an annoying obstacle in the way. At that moment, knowing that they both wanted the same thing, the embarrassment took a back seat and noises began to emerge from both of them; soft gasps and meaningless words as they ran their mouths over each other's skin, exploring every nook and cranny.

In a moment, almost without realizing it, you were completely naked. Your clothes in the corner of the bed while your hand clung to Leon's shoulders and he groaned between your legs as his tongue plunged so deep into you that you felt like you were about to faint "Mhm..." a moan of pleasure escaped the blond's lips, his nose brushing against your throbbing clit while his free hand stroked himself hard and dripping.

"Leon, Leon-" a loud moan came from your lips as he inserted two fingers at the same time as he sucked your folds and abused them with his saliva mixed with your juices, he seemed to savor you as if it were his favorite food, as if eating you was his favorite activity in the world "Put it in, please..." your hands clutched at the sheets as you curved your back, completely stimulated at the slightest touch. Leon came out from his hiding place between your thighs and without stopping his fingered thrusts looked up at you in surprise.

"Are you sure...?" you wanted to laugh at that moment, feeling tender at the pathos of the situation. He was asking you that? they were both completely naked and from your position you could see his glans as red as it was wet, covered in precum that made you want to suck him right there. But, however, if it was because you didn't want to, Leon would ignore all that and stop, because you were his priority.

"Leon!" you scolded him trying to get a moan to stay in your throat, but you exposed yourself too much and his fingers touched your favorite spot again, making you moan loudly and collapse on the bed again, biting your bottom lip "Stick your fuckin' cock in me or I'll kill you" you bellowed as he laughed, gently pulling his fingers out. You reached for him desperately, feeling that unbearable emptiness you needed to fill with him. He looked so eager, you could see him twitching in desperation wanting to enter you, wanting to bury himself mercilessly. That's exactly why the blond couldn't take much more, and soon you felt his face hide in your neck and he slipped in with a slowness that made you see stars. It was thick and wet, hot, and you squeezed it with such precision that you soon heard it whimper in your ear, while your eyes tried to stay focused and not give way to tears of pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck..." he moaned, you felt him start to move, taking your hips hard as you felt his body stiffen on top of you; knowing him you knew he was taking all his desire to ram into you madly just so you could get used to him "You're so tight, so hot, I just...." he bit his lower lip and you sought his mouth to fill it with your tongue, kissing him messily and angrily, you were completely gone in the way you felt him growing in your belly.

"You're so thick, so hard, fuck me, fuck me!" you moaned in the middle of the kiss, you stirred your hips eagerly and Leon didn't take long to take you firmly to pull out completely and then back in. You both moaned in unison at that action. You scratched his back so hard that your punishment was to feel him thrust into you, hitting your womb with brutality. And he seemed so soft, sweet and innocent, but at that moment he seemed to be too high on your pussy.

"You're mine, you pussy it's mine, fuck, tell me yes, tell me you're mine" he moaned in groans, the back of the bed banging against the wall, making a noise that you hoped the neighbors wouldn't mind so much. But at that moment all you were interested in was that he kept up that ferocious rhythm, ripping curses from your throat as he whispered incoherently about how much he loved to fuck you. "I'll fill you up for days, baby, I'll make you walk around in pain so everyone knows I fucked you good at night, don't you want that, my girl?" he growled under his breath, feeling his abdomen contract and the tip of his dick pounding you faster, messier, perfectly about to cum.

"Yes! Fuck yes, yes, harder!" you moaned in a sob as you hugged him and felt his face sink into your tits with devotion as he bit them, sucked them, and made a mess of your skin. Between the thrusts, so erratic, so strong, mixed with his fingers pressing against your swollen clitoris, your vision went dark as you felt one last thrust and the hand Leon held on your hip dug his fingers in and tore a pathetic moan from his lips, accompanied by your name. You embraced him with your choking orgasm as spurts and spurts of cum deposited inside you, he seemed to cum so much that you felt full, hot. You were so wet around him that you felt that soon his dripping seed would spurt from inside you to stain the sheets beneath you. But Leon stayed inside you warily, wanting to live there if possible; loving the sensation of having you tied to him somehow, that somehow such a primal part of him was filling you at that very moment causing you to still be moaning under him while he could barely regulate his breathing.

"I'm sorry, I cum too much... I'm sorry..." his face sunk into your chest as he barely regularized, and you soothed him with caresses in his hair, laughing softly once the tranquility of that blow that gave you the orgasm, finally appeared. "I'm going to clean you up, just let me..." he was going to pull away but you prevented it by pressing his face against your tits, making him sink there. He didn't seem to object, staying like a scolded but pleased puppy in that hot and comfortable area of your body.

"I need you with me, just… stay," you asked him in a breath. Leon gently stepped out from where he was, looking at you as he smiled and nodded like a happy child. He gave you a soft kiss and made himself more comfortable next to you, still not coming out from inside you. You could almost swear you were starting to feel him hard again, but in return he left soft caresses in your hair as he laughed at the sight of you almost falling asleep in his arms. His arms that were your safe place.

"I love you."

You looked to your side as you stopped checking your notebook and paid attention to him. Leon was red as a tomato and staring at the ceiling, his police uniform resting against his body, just like the first day you saw him. You felt like it was yesterday, that you saw him enter naively not knowing that you would be transformed into his desire to live every day, his desire to love someone, to desire each other with someone. He was naive not knowing that the young woman he had seen in the distance would become his friend, his companion, his lover.

"I know... I know it's silly to say it now, to say it like this but it's not easy to see you just exist and feel like my chest is going to explode, you know? I need to tell you... I love you so much that I can't stand my shame to know that someone like you noticed someone like me" he confessed. There was nothing about that awkward, awkward young man with the words and, though you didn't know it, it had been the most spontaneous sentence he had said in years. He didn't think it, he just felt it and said it. Like a love impulse, which encouraged him to improve day by day. You were his love.

"I guess I was never good at hiding that I love you..." you laughed, turning your whole body towards him as your hand gently caressed his cheek. It was a habit between the two of you, you held his face in the softness of your hands and he closed his eyes; he forgot everything for a few seconds. And yet now you could see a look of love so deep that almost for a moment you felt that tears would threaten to escape. "I love you more than you can imagine, Leon" the sincerity in that whisper, where only you and he understood each other was enough. He kissed your hand and placed his own against it, caressing it, making sure that under no circumstances would you pull away.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend...?" his gaze was on yours and although he tried to look calm and confident, a glint of fear was visible in that sea of blue his eyes formed. And you felt that you had an angel in your care, an angel that was watching over you but at the same time he was looking for you to take care of him, to accept to take care of his little hurt and abandoned heart. Leon was alone in life. He had only you, and you caressed his soul at every moment, with every word, taking care of him from bad dreams and bad thoughts, being his confidant every day.

"You know I'd be a fool to refuse" you laughed, leaving a soft little Eskimo kiss as you bit your lower lip, seriously holding back the urge to cry. It was the first time you felt the need to cry for love; for a healthy, mutual love, for a love that gave as well as received and was reciprocal in every way. "I want to be yours for life" you murmured, your lips glued to hers "because I love you more than my heart can bear."

"Thank you..." you felt his voice break softly, and you held him, held his face with love just as you held him every day with your love "Thank you for making me the happiest man in this world" he planted a kiss on your lips. As sincere and soft as the breeze coming through the window, with the sun going down in the sunset orange sky with purple sparkles. A sky that witnessed a love corresponding and belonging to each other, two lovers in love with a heart to give.

Because if Leon had you, and you had him, you would never need to say goodbye to him again. Because if you had him, in your heart you would always welcome his love, like the first time you saw him.

[lucyandthepen]

last eden - i . | lmh

part i, ii, iii

only one thing has ever mattered to you, in this lifetime, and in all others : mark lee — even if he doesn't know yet, and even if he may never remember.

pairing: mark x reader verse: canon/idol!verse, soulmates trope rating: T warnings: none, possibly some mild language, like... one very tame mention of making love ig word count: 4.3k

A/N: yeah i have a lot of these fics that i'm repurposing that i desperately want to post so i can continue them so please look the other way at my random over enthusiasm i beg !! my only long-standing mark fic is actually gorgeous, and while we do love a good raunchy piece, i love mark way too much to keep it to just that. this was my first ever fic on my old blog, and i'm quite attached to the idea despite the fact that it's actually very difficult for me to write. i changed the name because i actually love this song by maktub (anything he puts out is gold to me), which i think generally fits the vibe of the story, so give it a listen if you're interested! so i hope you all enjoy this idol!verse soulmates fic! (help a gal out by reblogging, liking, and leaving a few kind words if you're so inclined!)

“This isn’t really your best idea.” 

You know this. You’re fully aware of the possible and endless risks as well as the minimal benefits. But you have to go. The thing that Heehyeon, your roommate, doesn’t fully understand is that this could be your one and only shot, and it could mean life or death. And you know that sounds pretty dramatic, but it really is. you don’t really have all the details (when, where, how, the important stuff) but that doesn’t matter to you right now. 

What really matters is that today is NCT’s comeback stage at M! Countdown, and you have to be there. 

Unfortunately, this isn’t one of those things you have to go to because your a die-hard fan and you just have to support the group and do all those fan chants and lie to your mom about going to the library when you’re really staying over outside a company building for hours just to wave those silly, expensive light sticks that look like they came out of the factory a bit funny. Sure, NCT’s music was nice (enough), but that isn’t really the reason why you told your mom not to come over this weekend because you would be out on a company team building retreat (as if they actually do that). More than anything, you knew you had to take this chance to see him. 

When you don’t respond, Heehyeon presses on with a firmer tone, as if she’s determined to convince you even though you both know nothing is really going to stop you at this point.

“Listen to me, _____________. You are going to a tightly-packed music show with at least a hundred other fans, and you are going to stand in the middle of that dense crowd and — and what? Stare up at him. That’s it. He’s not going to see you; that stage is so high up he’ll probably only catch a look at your forehead, and that’s if you make it up front. And since we both know you’re neither the tallest nor the luckiest person in the world, you know the odds are against you. You’re probably going to get pushed to the back, or stampeded, and it’s going to be messy, and you’re going to push, and they’re going to push you back, and your make-up is going to fall apart, or whatever. Is this really worth it?”

“I told you,” you try to sound patient, but the idea of being buffeted away from the stage by a large wave of sweaty bodies causes more discomfort than you had originally anticipated thanks to her colorful and supremely unhelpful description. “If being near the stage doesn’t work out, I’ll wait out back, near the exit, and —“

“Oh yeah, and ambush him. Because you’ll be the only one there, and because that’s totally safe.” She drops the slightly (well, pretty) judgmental tone when she sees your bottom lip quiver. “I’m not… I’m not saying you shouldn’t try to reach out to him. But this doesn’t sound like the best way, _____________. Security is so tight there, and NCT’s security is even more wary. Even if you do manage to get close, what in the world are you going to say?” 

“I— I’ll figure it out once I’m there.” You purse your lips; surely I love you; we’re meant to be together wouldn’t be that hard on your end, but the more important question is: did it sound sane? You didn’t express this doubt, though. Doing so would give your roommate more ammunition to turn back at you; you’d play it by ear when you actually got around to making eye contact with him (if that ever happened at all). And — well, maybe you wouldn’t have to say anything. Maybe, just maybe, this time, he’d remember you.

At that thought, you feel an initial wave of laughter, closely followed by a second, much more painful wave of nausea. Of all the absurd things you could think of, that was probably the most ridiculous. 

“This isn’t a good idea,” she recapitulates, shaking her head. “You know what they do to people who stalk idols and say they’re really going to get married to them, or whatever. You know what they’d call you.”

“But I’m not crazy like that,” you argue.

“I know that, but they don’t know anything about you! You’d be labeled a sasaeng. They’ll probably think you’re one of those girls that sneak into their dorms and sniff their underwear before selling them on the dark side of Taobao through a weird Chinese proxy or something.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” You ball your fists at your side, feeling a little betrayed. Heehyeon, of all people, should be able to understand why you had to do this, even if it was ludicrous. She had remembered you, reached out to you before you could even place her. She’d heard your story, understood that you had been waiting years for this moment, even stopped you on other occasions when you were about to do the same thing you were planning now, saying it wasn’t the right time. “I don’t have any other way of contacting him. I don’t even know if this is going to work, but you know I have to try, and I feel like this is the right time. I have to see him. I have to — I have to be with him. I don’t need your blessing to go, you know.”

There’s a palpable tension hanging over you now, and Heehyeon’s expression has gone mostly unreadable, save for that twinge of worry still present in her gaze. The soft sound of regular, heavy exhales punctuate every few seconds that pass, and you realize a little later that it’s your breathing, which has turned a bit heavy from the energy spent sort-of yelling at your roommate. 

“I know that,” she finally sighs. “I know that, _____________. I just wish you used a different way. Like, a safer, less crazy one.”

“I would use one if there were one.” You frown. “I’m not going to do anything stupid, like attack him. I would never do that.”

She doesn’t say much anymore, opting to watch you instead as you stuff a few more essential things in your bag. A hat. A fan. a bottle of water. Heehyeon had tried to coerce you to buy one of those cheering kits with those slogans, but you didn’t want to waste your money on it, and, truthfully, you didn’t want his name hanging on your walls like some sick reminder in case he rejected you.

“What did you tell your manager?” She asks in a clear attempt to lighten the mood. 

“I told her I was sick. You know she never really asks as long as I find someone to substitute for me,” you sling your bag over your shoulder, standing straighter. “How do I look?” 

“Pretty damn healthy,” she notes. “But also kind of crazy.” 

“I’ll see you tonight, Heehyeon,” you roll your eyes as you make your way out of the room. Before you close the door, she makes one last quick remark.

“Not if I see you on the evening news first!”

You have to take two buses to get to Sangamsan-ro. Even though the traffic is generally mild, the buses make too many stops and wait too long for old ladies with their fruit baskets and newspapers to get on. The wait is making you anxious, and you think about getting an orange to abate your growing hunger, but you’re also so nervous that you’re sure you’re going to spew it all out onto the bus floor anyway. So, you content yourself with listening to music and fiddling with your fingers in your lap. 

All you have in your phone is NCT’s music. The files were so large that you’d had to delete everything else you used to listen to and a handful of pictures too (mostly selfies that would have never seen the light of day, anyway) just to get them to fit. You used to only listen to the Korean versions, but you’d found all these little nuances in how Mark raps his lines depending on the language, so you’d started listening to the English and Japanese releases too, even though you can’t understand a lick of anything but ‘baby.’ Most of the time, you skip over to the relevant (see: Mark-filled) parts, already having memorized their timestamps to a kind of sick degree. 

It was kind of dumb, and sort of selfish, but you had never really identified yourself as an NCT fan anyway. If you had been an active part of the groups following, people would have probably called you an akgae. You were really only concerned with one member, and it was that member’s voice that filled your ears when you’d plugged your earbuds in and put the volume up.

The first time you’d seen him was in your last year of college. One of your college friends had asked you to accompany them to a Nature Republic outlet downtown. Despite your general lack of interest in make-up at that point in time, you’d gone because she’d promised to buy you a corndog. What you’d gotten instead was a large standee of a handsome guy smiling at you and holding out a pot of aloe vera gel. 

You knew his eyes. Even though his features changed a million times in your memory, you could never mistake his eyes for anyone else’s — soft, warm, brown eyes that you’d stared into for truly an eternity. His were eyes you could never forget, were never allowed to forget. You could remember the millions of times they’d smiled up at you in those past lives you were haunted with, twinkled with mischief and laughter in your presence, borne deep into yours on hot summer nights as you made love. Of all the uncertain things in all of the lives you remembered living, these eyes acted as your anchor. 

You’d almost forgotten you were there with a friend until she’d called out to you, telling you to step inside the shop. Trying to sound disinterested despite the fact that your heart was pounding, you asked who the guy in the standee was. Mark, she’d called him. Mark of NCT. He was an idol, a rapper in one of those up and coming groups that was starting to gain a lot of attention within the general public because of their ‘cool, chic concepts.’ At that information, your heart had fallen into a pool of acid in your stomach. 

Other times were hard, but not this hard. Most of the factors that had kept you or torn you apart were much larger in scale — war, famine, other natural disasters. This, out of all the other times, seemed to be the most difficult; he wasn’t an ordinary man anymore, but a god among men — a god you couldn’t be allowed to approach. You had ditched your friend the moment she’d gotten her change back at the counter, citing a sudden time of the month as the root cause, and dashed out and back to school, sparing only one last glance at the standee. 

You’d been waiting for him for years, carefully looking for any sign of him in the people around you, but you had grown tired and had come to believe that maybe, in this life, you had been set free — that he didn’t exist, and the curse would be over. However, as you pored over each and every teaser, music video, advertisement, and blurry, noise-heavy radio interview you could find even a sliver of his face in, you realized that the curse had come back, and in a much larger force than you could ever imagine. 

You’d stared at your desk for the longest time that day; the sun had dipped out of sight already when you’d sighed yourself out of your trance. It had never been this difficult. Having the Memory was mostly the worst thing ever, but its usual perk was that you could pick him out a little easier, and he was never too far away — nobody you ever knew in your first life ever was. They just kept coming up again and again, running around in little circles throughout time and space, and you recognized them in a way you’ve come to grow familiar with. It’s a tug, sort of like a tickle in your stomach, and you knew then that he was close by. The signal only stopped when you found him, and it usually wasn’t that hard. From there, you were responsible for weaving the same kind of story — one in which you would fall in love, be happy for a period of time, and then… well. 

Heehyeon has the Memory, too. She’d remembered you from a previous life, too, and picked you out of a packed line at a coffee shop, striking up one of the most awkward conversations you’d ever had the displeasure of being a part of because she hadn’t been sure if you remembered her. It was only when she mentioned that you seemed like someone she could be good friends with and that you also seemed like you just happened to like your coffee black with two sugars did you realize that her sudden onslaught of friendliness was a sign she might be like you: unable to forget. She’d actually once asked you if you’d tried just letting him go, and you’d responded with a resolute no. At this point, it was too hard to call him a lost cause, even if he really seemed it. How could you stop loving someone you know you’ve loved for millennia? 

He’s extremely handsome in this life, you’ve noted. Girls were falling all over him, which only made things ten times harder. A couple of years back, some rumors of him dating a labelmate had come up. Heehyeon had talked you through that long night of you clutching tissues in a fist and sobbing about how you didn’t want this anymore, how it was never fair, how every single time you had to find him was just growing more and more difficult until it seemed to reach an impossible arc. But, mostly, you’d cried because you hated the possibility — probably the confirmation — that he didn’t remember you at all. 

You didn’t really expect him to, but you always hoped. Every life, you would approach him, and he would be a clean slate. It was a tiring process, one you wished you weren’t constantly responsible for. Some days, you resented him; how could he live his life carefree, without even the notion that you two were meant to be together? Most days, though, you just longed for him. Him, and a happy ending. 

You let out a sigh as the track changes. His voice greets you again; over time, you’ve noticed it sounding even cooler, more impactful. He’s doing well for himself. And here you are, attempting to make yourself stand out in a pool of fans he probably can’t even see clearly. Nice.

You get to listen to about half of the newly released album before you realize you’re nearing your stop. Sidestepping a couple of baskets of oranges, you make it to the door and dash out. Heehyeon had drawn you a crude map to CJ E&M, and you’d been skeptical of it at first, but you realize now you would have gotten lost and missed the stage long before you got there if you had gone in blind. You’d make sure to thank her when you got back. If you did actually come back in one piece. 

Heehyeon also hadn’t been joking; the line outside looks like it would fill a whole section of Jamsil. You’d heard of the dedication of some of these fans, but you’d never seen it like this, nor had you ever actually been a part of it. Kids were really up at three in the morning in support of NCT. Many of them are probably here specifically in support of Mark, you think. Sure enough, the people you line up behind are holding holographic slogans with the print “Mark-yah!” You swallow hard, trying not to regret your decision not to partake in that. 

It feels like hours before you get even close to the door of the building. The chatter has died down a little, but not by much; even with less people ahead of you, the noise pollution increases in tandem with the excitement in the atmosphere. You’re not excited, though. You’re sick to your stomach, wishing you hadn’t come alone and wondering if you were going to regret this. Probably. Luckily, a couple of teenagers behind you strike up a casual conversation starting with “ah, it’s getting more humid now,” and you take turns complaining about what the weather would probably be like later on in the day before you start talking about NCT. They’re both Jaehyun fans, and you think about whether or not you remember meeting him in a past life. Nothing really rings a bell.

When you tell them you’re here for Mark, they giggle. 

“We know,” they chime. “You’re wearing blue.” 

“It’s his favorite color,” you say, a little defensively. 

“Everyone knows that. Everyone here wearing that ocean blue is a Mark fan. Didn’t he say so once?” They dissolve into laughter again, but you say nothing. Maybe he had said that recently. Then again, his favorite color has always been blue — the color of the sky and the sea he seems to love so much. 

The line grows shorter and shorter, and your ankles feel like they’re starting to swell. You’ve been standing for a good two hours now, and you regret not having bought one of those NCT membership cards that get you up to the front of the line. It’s really no surprise that you, the two Jaehyun fans, and the others in the line behind you are all squished in the back, just like Heehyeon had said you would be. It takes a good twenty minutes before the lights dim down and the stage lights start up, and you hear the buzz that increases in volume right before it becomes a collective deafening shriek from the crowd. The light sticks go up, and you’re momentarily blinded by the large stars that blink NCT in some weird logo form before you get your bearings again. By that time, the members have begun trooping onto the stage in a single file, and you forget your swollen ankles as you tiptoe and crane your head for a better view. 

He’s there, your mind screams. He’s right there. You’ve got a whole crowd in front of you, but he’s right there. 

The Jaehyun fans are losing their mind too; he’s talking, asking them how they found the album and encouraging them to keep supporting it. Typical idol stuff, you assume, but the fans go wild in an attempt to reassure him that they will. They all speak in a line, and you note Mark will be last. When the mic is handed over to him, the fans start screaming again. You feel like you want to yell as well, except you’re not sure if you’ll say something actually coherent that other people will hear. Instead, you tiptoe a little higher, fixing your pretty bad eyesight on his face and perking your ears up. 

“You’re all here so early,” he starts. “How long have you been waiting for us?” 

A flurry of numbers fly across the room. He smiles in this genuinely affectionate way even though his eyes can’t focus on a single person in the dark, and your heart stutters at the sight.

“Do your mothers know you’re here?” He’s teasing now. “You can’t tell them that NCT is the reason you’re not sleeping well, you know. Everyone, make sure that you eat breakfast and rest well before school today, okay?” 

While the crowd screams in response, you let out a little whimper. It’s a weak, pathetic sound, but it essentially sums up how you feel, seeing him like this from so far away. 

The pre-recording starts, but you barely catch anything. You’re too small for this kind of life, and you get so tired of tiptoeing that you actually do try to push your way through the crowd. Of course, this is fruitless, and you end up squatting by the back wall of the room, sipping on your water conservatively and listening to the Jaehyun fans do the chant religiously. 

NCT performs the song two more times before they’re saying their goodbyes. You muster up the energy to stand again and make a beeline for the exit before everyone else can smash their way through. The sun is almost up now; beads of sweat form on the nape of your neck as you round the building, trying to find the indicated spot that Heehyeon had marked as the back exit of CJ E&M. You worry about how you’re in the wrong place for about ten minutes until you see the two Jaehyun fans turning the corner quickly, obviously with the same goal as you: to catch NCT as they leave the building. 

In no time, the fans have gathered at the spot again, and it seems like they’ve multiplied tenfold; the chants are louder and there are girls with gigantic cameras trying to shove you away from the spot. Security from the company camps out in front of you, their gazes shifting from the door to the crowd and back again. 

People around you roar the moment the doorknob turns. Nine of them file out, now in regular clothing, surrounded by their own security. You feel a surge of force behind you, trying to push forward, and someone’s camera lens hits you hard in the side of the face. You barely have time to cry out in surprise, caught in what would have been a scream of pain, when you see him. 

In the growing light, Mark looks like a king. No — like a god, actually. Everything on his face shines even when minimal sunlight strikes it; his teeth help, too, brightening his face as his mouth hangs open in an easy laugh. He’s talking to Doyoung and has to face him, his sharp jawline being the first thing anyone can see from that perspective, and it’s that angle that creates all these alarms in your head. 

For some reason, you’ve blocked out the noise around you. Even the pain from the camera lens attack isn’t bothering you as much anymore; you feel like you’re in an aquarium, and all the screams are on the other side of the glass. Your vision tunnels; all you can see is him. 

You’d promised Heehyeon you wouldn’t do anything stupid. Again and again, she’d asked you and drilled you and reminded you that you weren’t supposed to do anything that would get you into trouble. Even with those promises you’d made, she’d still doubted you. Later, when you’d tell her this story, she’d roll her eyes and yell I told you so!, because, well, she did tell you. And, when you’d look at it in retrospect, you’d see that you should have listened. 

Right now, though, you’re walking. Somehow, the camera lens that had attacked you had turned its gaze onto much more important targets; the guard stationed in front of you grunted in pain and reflexively retracted his hand after the lens made contact with it. It wasn’t a long movement, but it was enough for you to be pushed forward by the crowd. Enough to get your feet moving. 

Other fans had stopped trying to break through; though many were still hysterical, most were trying to take pictures of the members as they climbed into the van. One by one, they were disappearing before your eyes. No, you thought to yourself. Your chest tightened. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you think that the noise behind you has gotten much louder. Not now. He hasn’t seen me yet. Not yet, please. 

You don’t realize that your feet have picked up the pace, and you’ve broken into a short sprint before the building security could catch you. It’s too late; he can’t leave his post, and he only has to hope that NCT’s staff are well-equipped to fend off a running girl. They are, but they’re too busy helping the members that they’re caught unaware — just long enough for you to be within an arm’s reach of them. 

Mark is almost in the van; he’s caught off-guard, too, and he doesn’t realize that something’s not right until you’re already there. Security grabs his arm and tries to tug him out of your reach and into the van at the same time that a strong hand grapples at the back of your shirt. Doyoung, who had been by Mark’s side, tries to use his arms to shield you from his friend when he realizes who you are targeting, yelling out something you can’t really understand. 

It’s a ten-second long struggle of limbs in which you hear your own “Let go of me!” harmonize perfectly with Mark’s frantic “What the —?” Somehow, though, you’re able to fight through Doyoung’s arms and grip Mark’s wrist with a sweaty palm. The contact causes him to turn back reflexively, eyes wide in shock. 

His eyes. God, please, won’t he recognize me? Your fingers close around his wrist a little more tightly. Your mouth is dry, and your throat is on fire. You’re wasting precious time. You only manage out a weak, “Please, Mark, it’s me,” before he’s twisting his wrist away. The arm that gripped your shirt moves to lock around your waist, and you’re hauled, empty-handed, away from the van. Awareness you’d lost slowly trickles back into you. The crowd isn’t screaming at the members now; they’re screaming at you. They’re angry. As you’re dragged away, you vaguely note that the Jaehyun fans you were with are fuming behind the security guards still keeping them in place. 

The security guard that carried you off like a rag doll plants you in front of him, and he lets go of your waist but still keeps his grip tight around both your forearms, which have been twisted behind you. You have no choice but to watch from afar as the members drag Mark into the van, looks of concern etched across their faces. They ask him if he’s hurt, and he shakes his head. Right before the door closes, he quickly glances back at you. Your heart sinks for the second time today as you see something in his eyes you’d never seen before. 

Fear. Mark is afraid of you.

[tinyidle]

not happy - khj x yn x jsy

a self-indulgent fic

wc: 4.3k

WARNING: smut, angst, pwp, vampire mafia au, poly relationship, tw: mentions of drug use, se*ual and physical assault (extremely minimal, since that's triggering for even me), harassment, graphic depictions of violence, death and bl**d (minimal), mentions of the (g)i-dle and ateez members, a lot of dialogue, nicknames: hj calls yn 'darling' and sy calls yn 'baby' while yn calls hj 'daddy' and sy 'mommy', punishment (cuckoldry), light bdsm (the b, d, s, and a small part of m), edging with a vibrator, orgasm denial, begging, unprotected sex (vampires can't get preggos, but hybrids can so-), overstimulation, dacriphyllia, creampie, reader (yn) passes out, aftercare (and some fluff if you can squint without hurting your eyes), harddom!hongjoong, vampire!hongjoong, b!gd¡ck!joong (you already knowww), mafia leader hongjoong, harddom!switch!soyeon, vampire!soyeon, mafia leader soyeon, sub!reader, vampirehybrid reader, fem reader, all fiction ofcofcOFC

𖤓 𒂭 𓊑 ¸ ⠀ ݊ 𖤛 𓈒◌ ⃝ ༩ ⠀𓈒 ✧ 𓊆 ◌⃘ 𓊇 ݁ ◍ ◌⠀ ׂ

before meeting you, they were enemies-- sworn to hate each other for the rest of their lives. the infamous male mafia group octet were rivals against the infamous female mafia group coronica.. no way were they ever going to get along. these leaders were feared in the city of seoul, and at night they ran their sides of the huge metropolis. that is, until they died.

both were deep into the drug business, meaning they would partake in things most druglords wished they could get their hands on. when one of the pills they took regularly happened to contain immortal bat blood as one of the ingredients, they didn't expect to fight over it when the dealer was telling the other that 'this leader had a hold on it first' for the last batch available at the time. they both killed the dealer, then turned their guns on the other. both were supposed to be fatal headshots.

waking up the next day was weird for them. they woke up in their respected gang pins, on their beds, craving for their pills instead of asking how they didn't die. but when they were told there weren't anymore, they resorted to taking human lives to survive. the two still hated each other, always attacking each other when one came into the other's view, despite living in such a massive city (blame that on their vampire vision). it felt like a never-ending cycle, but you somehow came into their lives.

they don't know how, but you just did. after they saw you when it was their feeding time (for some odd reason the drug they took before dying tied them together in terms of how they act digestively), they didn't want to eat you. in fact, they wanted to get to know you. they approached you and asked you to be their friend.

days turned into months, and soon you were dating the two mafia vampires. you were the catalyst of both rival gang leaders being cordial with each other now. every now and then, hongjoong would give soyeon the occasional hug, and every now and then, soyeon would give the occasional friendly smile. but it was you they loved, and it was you who loved them.

of course they told you about their past, but surprisingly to them you didn't seem to mind. you nonchalantly told them that the dealer they shot was your shit uncle who cared for nothing more than drug dealing. and you apparently were a vampire too; a hybrid by birth when you found out that your druggie of a mother was taking those dracula pills as well, almost causing you to die. after the icebreaker of each other's history, your life remained as normal as a polyamorous relationship amongst three vampires could be.

out of the three of you being around the same age, you're the only one who goes to school. despite being immortal, you wanted an education to become a product designer. all your life you wanted to leave the dangerous society you grew up in, and during your growing up you realized that you loved design. so, after looking at all the types of designers one could be, you decided on product design.

unfortunately, your adult life wasn't as grand as one would want it to be. despite being in your third year of university, trouble found you as a girl in your 3D art class harassed you for two weeks now. as you packed up your laptop and designer's tablet, the girl shoved your bag off the chair and unto the floor, nearly destroying what was already in your bag.

"hey!" you yelled, frustration and hurt pouring from your heart to your mouth. you needed those materials in order to pass any of your intensive classes. "those cost a lot!" you wanted to mention how your grades were dependant on them too, but that would be oversharing and would subject you to more bullying. she glared at you and began to walk away when suddenly you caught her arm.

"what do you think you're doing?" she said, struggling to get her arm off your grip. now, you had two choices at this point: say sorry to your bully and allow her to get away with her dangerous stunt, as you were already failing almost all your classes; or stand up for yourself in any way you could. you chose the latter.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, and spoke up for yourself for the first time since the girl started picking on you. "if i do whatever you want me to do tomorrow, will you leave me alone?"

the girl thought about this for a moment before smirking and nodding, prompting you to let her now numb arm go. "park, tomorrow afternoon at 2. don't be late," she instructed before leaning in to whisper in your ear, "or else you'll be fucked."

you shivered before nodding slowly, bashfully watching her as she left the nearly empty classroom.

even though you wanted so badly to protest, you had to be honest with yourself. you hated school at this point, you wanted to give yourself a well-needed break-- even if that meant ditching class for the day. you knew hongjoong and soyeon would be worried sick, but you also knew their vampire senses would find you. they always do.

--

the next day, five pm. you were supposed to be at home two hours ago, yet there was no signs of you being even close to home. worried was an understatement. they knew this wasn't like you.

hongjoong paced back and forth while soyeon impatiently tapped her foot in your shared penthouse. "where the hell is she?" he huffed, pushing his sunglasses up his nose bridge before letting it fall down to the tip of it again.

soyeon pushed her trench coat back, pulling her own sunglasses down before answering with an annoyed tone. "i don't know, where do you think she is, wise guy?"

the man stopped in his footsteps, slowly walked towards the short, impatient lady, and stood over her just shy of a few inches. "i. don't. know. and your snarky remark isn't going to help us find her any faster."

as much as she wanted to bop the guy on the nose, soyeon knew better than to fight her indirect boyfriend for the missing nature of her girlfriend. standing up straight, she helped push hongjoong's glasses up before sighing and flattening invisible creases from his two-toned blazer. "look," she began before raising her manicured nails from his blazer to his pale-colored cheeks. "i would love to argue with you and have our baby break up the fight, but she's obviously not here to do that. i only care about you because i care about her, and i know you do too. im sorry i lashed out for no reason, but we got to figure out how we're going to find her without starting a fight."

slightly leaning into her touch, the man sighed himself before replying. "you're right. im sorry for being so worked up." hongjoong took soyeon's small, frigid palm and wrapped it around his own cold ones. "let's call the gang and have them search for her. she shouldn't be far."

soyeon nodded before the two made up with a hug. she pulled back a bit to ask a small question, "what if we find her and she did something stupid?"

hongjoong smirked, pulling back to give soyeon the tiniest peck on her forehead-- the first of its kind in their estranged relationship. "let's just say that when we find her, she'll be in for a treat."

--

seven pm. you and the girl were at the swings, doing your best to settle your differences. key phrase 'did your best', because while you were trying to talk things out with her, she was too busy teasing you about your living situation and your lack of knack for school. when you two were walking to a vacant ice cream booth, she decided to shove you to the ground, pinning you down while you stared in shock.

she smirked as your eyes welled up with tears. "did you really think i was going to settle things with you?" you wanted to think there was some good in her, but she was simply cruel. you wished you never agreed to going out with her today. "remember when i told you that you'd be fucked if you didn't come to the park with me today?"

you nodded, tears now falling rapidly down your cheeks.

she leaned in and licked your ear, much to your disgust. "well, ive been seeing how cute you look. ill just fuck with you right now."

when you winced and mentally prepared for the worst, you heard a tight grunt before opening your eyes to see the girl above you. her eyes rolled to the back of her skull, and her body fell backwards as blood pooled on the floor. you were horrified as her smell permeated the ground, and you were worried you somehow killed her with your hybridity. but no, it wasn't you, it was the crew who found you. your partners' gangs.

mingi put his smoking gun down, blowing what remnants of it away. yuqi quickly bandaged and picked up the slowly decaying body in her arms before having it taken away by yunho and jongho. miyeon picked you up and dusted you off. "

"h- how did- how did you guys find me-"

"you're not hard to find, hybrie," minnie said as she walked up to you and miyeon. "our boss called us, their boss called them," she pointed to the boys wrapping up and pushing the body bag into the truck, "and we did what we did to find you."

miyeon held your cheeks and maneuvered your head around, checking to see any brusing in your face. "did she heard you? shuhua told me that you looked distressed while we were getting here."

you shook your head, wiping your tear-stained cheeks. "thanks, but im okay. just a girl who wanted something from me that i wouldn't have been able to give her."

"she WHATT?!?" you heard as soojin held shuhua back from the body bag in the open trunk of the black truck. "no way did this dead bitch try to molest her!"

"shhh, shuhua!" yeosang tried to hush her, which she landed a death glare at him. his eyes widened before he put his hands up in defense. "im sorry, but we've got to be quiet before somebody suspects something." the woman huffed before giving up on attacking the potential autopsy.

you looked at the bag and saw it slowly compressing. "what are you doing to her body?"

out of the trunk you saw seonghwa motioning to yeosang to get in, holding what looked like an IV tube that was covered dark red. as the man got in, wooyoung and san got out, explaining to the girls that they have you covered and will take you home.

once coronica and most of octet left, san led you to the back of their car as wooyoung went to the drivers' side. you again asked, "what did they do to her body?" you were worried you were going to get in trouble for a crime you were simply a victim of.

san turned to you as wooyoung focused on the road. "seonghwa and yeosang were draining her of all her fluid, particularly her blood, for our boss and the girls' boss to have."

"what?" you said, startled.

"don't speak too loud, please," wooyoung cautioned you. "i just got this license and im not going to get distracted."

the other man looked down and then back up to you, continuing to answer your previous question. "jongho and yunho cleaned up any remaining fluids from the park, and one of the girl's-- yuqi i believe-- wrapped up the wound she got from mingi shooting her."

you were shocked, to say the least. "but, why?"

wooyoung chuckled. "why? because she tried to take advantage of you, that's why. because if mingi didn't shoot her square in the back of the head, one of your boss girl's girls would've beaten her to death, making it extra hard to clean up any signs of foul play. soojin had to hold her down once she found out what we found out."

this was all too much for you, and you felt sick. "what will happen if the public finds out?"

driving into the penthouse area, wooyoung parked neatly before turning around to look at you with all the smugness in the world. "we're the biggest gangs in seoul. nobody will know what happened to her or how it happened. it'll be as if she-"

"-disappeared," san finished.

"exactly, san. vanished." wooyoung nodded.

you nodded before being escorted out the car and into the luxurious home. you saw yuqi and soojin talking to both hongjoong and soyeon, relaying all the information they acquired down to when you were pinned to the ground. as the two were intently listening to every word the women said, their senses detected you, turning to you in sync.

you hesitated before walking up to them and murmuring a small "hey." they nodded before waving you off to the shared bed space. as you went to the bed, you overheard wooyoung and san join in on the conversation, quickly turning the serious incident into a more loose chat mixed with some jokes here and there. you slowly got yourself ready for bed, and felt your eyes drifting to sleep.

--

it was now the weekend morning, and you expected to have your boyfriend and girlfriend reprimand you, or at least scold you. instead, you woke up with your hands tied to your front. your night dress was still on, even your eye mask was secured over your eyes, but you could not move at all. you all talked about light bdsm and wanting to do it, but you didn't think that today would be the day for it.

when you became more-or-less comfortable in your state, you felt tiny, icy fingers take off your eye mask. what you didn't expect to see was a fully naked soyeon next to a fully naked hongjoong. both looked incredibly needy for you-- soyeon's nipples were hard while hongjoong's cock was fully erect-- but you could tell that they weren't going to touch you.

"darling," hongjoong spoke up first, his hands fiddling with something you couldn't recognize. you hope that it isn't you think it is. "you know better than to go somewhere without our permission. especially for so long. mommy and i were worried."

your eyes filled up with tears, "you were?"

soyeon nodded as hongjoong spread your legs open, taking off your underwear in the process. "the good thing is that our gangs caught you in time," she spoke as hongjoong pushed the lubricated toy into your center.

unfortunately it was what you thought it was.

the small toy started vibrating, and you shifted your gaze towards soyeon's fingers as she held a small remote. "the other good thing is that daddy and i settled our differences while you were gone. so we thought-" she paused, looking over at hongjoong to finish her sentence.

as you were doing your best not to squirm, you looked in awe as your boyfriend went behind your girlfriend, holding her waist in his hands before finishing the sentence. "-we should show you how much we actually like each other now."

the two turned to look at each other's face before planting a tantalizing kiss on each other's lips. well, tantalizing to you; cunning to them. "see, baby, you made daddy angry, but he doesn't believe you should be touched as punishment." soyeon pulled back from the man's lips as his hands wandered around her. "he mentioned to me how we never fucked, and how it would make you jealous for us to get together without you."

before she could continue explaining, her voice got caught in her throat as hongjoong pushed her towards your tied form, with the only thing you're seeing is soyeon breathing heavily as the man's icy hands spread her legs wide for his awaiting lips.

hongjoong then picked up where soyeon left off, "so i thought that, not only do you get what you want-- with us fucking with you present because im nice," he flashed a toothy grin, "but you also get punished because you cant touch yourself nor cum."

before you could even begin to protest, the remote notched up the power of the vibrator twice, making you whine. another whine could be heard, but you knew it wasn't yours. looking to the side, you saw as your girlfriend was getting thoroughly eaten out by your boyfriend. in any regular circumstances, you'd be inexplicably turned on, but now all you wanted to do was get your share of pleasure. pleasure not from a mechanical machine, but from your lovers.

while soyeon was moaning and panting from the vampire man's skillful tongue, she moved her eyes back to you. hongjoong brought his mouth away from soyeon, using one of his thumbs to circle her already engorged clit. "how does it feel, hmm mommy?" he breathed, moving up to nip and suck lightly on her nipples to gain her attention from you to him.

soyeon answered while still keeping contact with your pleading orbs, "good, fuck. so good. i want to cum." the man obliged and immediately plunged two fingers in her awaiting hole and leaned down to suck her clit. screaming, soyeon turned off the vibrator, cutting off your impending orgasm while hers kick-started. you sobbed because of the denial of it all while your girlfriend shuddered from the pleasure she just received.

allowing herself to come down, soyeon crawled, up to hongjoong before giving him a lustful kiss as you looked with want in your eyes. they treated you like you were both there and not there. even though you had tears in your eyes, you loved how they didn't acknowledge your presence, which they knew very well you'd love.

pushing your boyfriend down, your girlfriend kissed her way down his pale body until she reached his pelvis. "does daddy want to be sucked, or does he want to fuck mommy instead?"

hongjoong motioned for the remote, and once soyeon gave it to him and he turned it on to a pulse setting, you moaned aloud. he smirked before looking back at the smaller woman, nodding before confirming to "suck daddy off."

you wanted so badly to protest, that soyeon should be encouraging you to give hongjoong head, not for you to be helpless while she gave him head. you had dreams of you and your mommy sharing daddy's cock-- but unfortunately, because of your bad behavior, that dream will have to stay a dream until the next session.

as soyeon bobbed on the man's head and even deep-throated him a few times, you were shaking in excitement, hoping that they would have mercy on you and allow you to cum. however, once soyeon made a particularly harsh suck, the toy stopped again as hongjoong came on your girlfriend's chest, making you cry out again. in tandem, you heard your boyfriend groan as his cum landed all over your girlfriend's chest. soyeon smiled as she took some of it and tasted it for herself before scooping some to feed you, giving you a bit of attention since they started playing with each other.

after you sucked off the remnants of your boyfriend's essence from your girlfriend's finger, hongjoong reached out to pull soyeon to him, making her squeal as you whined from the loss of her fingers in your mouth.

"aww," he fake cooed in sympathy, maneuvering the small woman on her hands and knees. "you really thought you were going to get more? only good babies get mommy's fingers for more than that long. actually, soyeon was more geneorus than she should have been. what do you say, darling?"

you were now having thin streams of tears falling down your cheeks, sniffling before you spoke up, "thank you mommy."

having even more sympathy for you, hongjoong nodded towards soyeon before she looked at you with a small smirk. "no problem, baby. now, we'll have mercy on you and let you cum."

the toy now was on the highest setting, making you shriek before closing your eyes, thrashing about. when you were about to keep your eyes closed in order to bask in the pleaasure of it all, you immediately reopened them when a cry rang out in the room.

there you saw your mommy getting your daddy's cock for the first time, and you were starting to feel a bit envious that you couldn't get a closer view. "fuck," hongjoong grunted, moving carefully to push even more of his thick length into the tiny hole that belonged to his indirect girlfriend. "when was the last time you were dicked down?"

soyeon turned to the side before breathing out a heavy breath, "since before i killed you. and before you killed me." the man rolled his eyes before moving the hand that wasn't over the small woman's hip to her clit, rubbing it to get her wetter. "sh-shit, daddy. no wonder our baby always whines for your cock."

hongjoong only smirked and chuckled in response as he finally eased all his length into soyeon, creating a bump that only he and she could feel; one that you could only imagine from the position they're in. he began thrusting in and out of her steadily, making her moan, pant, whimper, and even scream in the pillow a bit. after a few minutes of him soon fucking into her rapidly, the toy pushed a certain spot within you that made you cum hard.

however, your mommy and daddy weren't done yet, let alone with you. soyeon was turned on her back as hongjoong re-entered her, causing the both of them to moan. you were pushed into overstimulation, but you dared not to speak because you knew this was part of the punishment. the two kept fucking, occasionally looking towards you, but moreover in their own world. it was amazing how you could feel their pleasure being mingled with your own from merely watching the action.

if anything, it was the fact that your mommy looked so happy that made you blush at the same time the vibrator inside you pressed on that certain spot that caused you to cum hard again. you screamed loudly while the toy pushed you to the brink of numbness, your scream echoing throughout the house. after a few minutes of watching you release, soyeon decided to do so herself, pushing herself up against her half-boyfriend's pelvis and crying out as her small cunt finally tightened around his entire length before cumming around him.

the vibrations from the toy echoed through your whole body, making you flow now rivers of tears, begging for the vibrator to be turned off.

once hongjoong's hips were against the mattress, he began bucking against soyeon, picking up the pace as you pleaded for him to make it stop. his muffled grunts told you that you'd have to wait a little longer, which only fueled your tantrum further.

but what you weren't prepared for was the vibration intensifying, numbing your walls until your last orgasm pushed the toy out. the sight was what caused hongjoong to finally let go, holding soyeon's hips as his cum pumped loads into her as she whimpered from the fullness.

hongjoong was now shivering from his orgasm as soyeon trembled underneath him. after letting riding out the waves of pleasure, he sat down on the bed next to her, stroking her hair.

meanwhile, your body remained limp for several minutes, unable to even move an inch as you drifted off to unconsciousness. the buzzing finally ceased, but your tired body failed to react, as if the act had never happened. after laying there in a daze for awhile, the sound of someone running water woke you up. you couldn't help but groan as your mind slowly came to the realization that you had to live with your actions for the rest of the day and the repercussions that may follow. when you felt a pair of arms lift you up and put you onto another pair of arms in a body of water, you felt a bit relieved that they weren't too mad at you.

sniffling from what you know you did to have been punished, you looked up at soyeon behind you, then to hongjoong above you, then apologized. "im sorry for not telling you where i was going."

soyeon rubbed your arms, rubbing her cold cheek against your luke-warm one. "it's okay baby," she comforted you, becoming even more at ease when hongjoong joined in to give the both of you a chilly-warm embrace.

the man leaned down to give you a loving kiss on your forehead. "just make sure to let us know if you plan to go somewhere so that we won't have to worry much, okay darling?" he wiped away the tears that threatened to leave your water line.

you nodded before saying okay. the three of you spent a good portion in the tub, loving and embracing each other.

[piedpiperslists]

hiii can you recommend any jealous jungkook/oc AUs? thank you so much 💞💞

Hi. I did not expect to list about 30 fics just for this theme 😭 but tbf I also included fics that aren't necessarily focused on jealousy but some which the authors also tagged with.

* ² - two shots s - contains smut

Drabbles

Defense Mechanism by yoongiphoria established relationship Summary: Your love language is not words of affirmation, but that’s not going to stop Jeongguk.

Focus on Me by aquagustd s FWB, college au

Green Room by honeymoonjin s established relationship, idol au, PWP Summary: Post-concert jealous Jungkook.

Head Over Skates by mercurygguk ice hockey player!Jungkook, college au Summary: Jungkook doesn’t get jealous but here you are, bringing out new sides of him.

“I’m not jealous.” by taleasnewastime established relationship

Just Friends by jeonqkooks s FWM college au Summary: Jungkook doesn’t like it when other people look at you the way he does.

Like That by dawnagustd s college au Summary: Running into an awkward situation at a house party? Your first instinct is to hide. And because you have the worst luck, your hiding spot is already being occupied… by another awkward situation.

Ness-tled in Your Embrace by lavienjin s established relationship, PWP Summary: A drabble about one (1) jealous Jeon Jungkook.

Perilla Leaves by hyungieyoongi friends to lovers, fake dating

The Past Is Past by yukheii established relationship Summary: Where Y/N is with Jungkook but she originally had a crush on Taehyung and Jungkook finds out and feels insecure.

The Perilla Leaf Debacle by here2bbtstrash s established relationship Summary: You hate it when your boyfriend gets jealous, but you love the way he takes it out on you.

Tulip by jinfizz friends to lovers Summary: Red roses aren’t the only flower with a romantic meaning, so you don’t have to totally splurge to show your dedication. Red tulips are also considered a declaration of love, and they’re especially gorgeous in the spring.

“Wait a minute…are you jealous?” “I’m not jealous! It’s just…you’re mine!” by taeken-my-heart established relationship, college au

When he’s jealous over the perilla leafs debate by delugguk s established relationship, PWP Summary: 'Next thing you know, you're holding hands with him and end up getting married!'

You are jealous of a new staff member by bangtan-sonyeonddaeng established relationship, idol au

One Shots

A Blight on the Heart by thatlongspringnight s wc~13.3k / established marriage, historical au Summary: You married him because you wanted a new life, and even with the struggle, the fights, you’d marry him again any day. Or - Jungkook loves you from the moment he reads your first letter, and the rest is history.

Absolute by v-hope wc~4.3k / fuckboy!Jungkook, tutor!reader, FWB, college au Summary: After arguing over the status of your relationship and having a bit of a fall out, Jeongguk and you find out you don’t quite like the idea of each other being with someone else. Nevertheless, with the two of you not being precisely a couple, things might get a little too complicated.

Bewitching by taegularities s wc~10.8k / FWB, vampire au Summary: Your feelings for Jungkook differ too much from the quiet agreement between you and his free-spirited, cold soul; too dangerous to speak them aloud. But when desire and longing take the lead, how long will you, the loyal servant to her master, be able to silence what resides deep inside of you?

Ego Season by sparklingchim s wc~6.3k / hockey player!Jungkook, brother's best friend, college au Summary: POV: You make ur secret fuck buddy jealous. Number 7 by sparklingchim s wc~3k / hockey player!Jungkook, brother's best friend, college au Summary: POV: Your jealous fuck buddy pounds you in his jersey.

Heaven’s Open by btsmosphere wc~3.5k / friends to lovers, college au Summary: It’s never a good time for the heavens to open, trapping you to wait out the storm. But your own piece of heaven is stuck right there with you - maybe the rainclouds will shed some light on the cold front that has formed between you and Jungkook.

Hot Boy Bummer by jungkxook s wc~14.6k / fuckboy!Jungkook, friends to lovers, FWB Summary: When Jungkook offers you a proposition of just sex, no strings attached, how can you possibly say no? After all, what are best friends for?

Jealousy by jkeuphoriadreamland s wc~2.3k / established relationship Summary: All of this over a fucking perilla leaf!?

My Heart Is Yours by honeytae wc~3k / established relationship

Never Be Friends by jjungxkook wc~3k / friends to lovers Summary: A healthy mix of irritation and amusement leads to kissing and making out with your best friend. Everyone knows that.

Pink Sapphire by jiminrings wc~11k / arranged marriage Summary: Having Jungkook for a husband is great as far as arranged marriages could go; he’s easy to love. Your relationship’s perhaps become so easy that Jungkook doesn’t think sometimes — and that’s what makes it the easiest for you to hate him. Alternatively, you and Jungkook married each other for business, but the both of you stay for love.

Project: Star X by xenizaation s wc~6k / rockstar!Jungkook, friends to lovers

[...] So It Begins (2) by muniimyg wc~2.5k / friends to lovers, university au Summary: The one where it’s all about what Jungkook wants.

Stay by jungkxook s wc~8k / popstar!Jungkook, groupie!reader, FWB Summary: Jungkook wasn’t always so madly in love with you but the fact that you’re sleeping with two of his band mates too makes things a tad bit complicated.

The Cockpile: Try Out by httpjeon s wc~6.6k / established relationship, pornstar au Summary: Dating a porn star wasn’t easy. Jealousy can run rampant if there’s no communication.

Two Shots/Series

Denial ² by girlygguk s actress!reader, FWB, idol au, PWP Summary: It's been a plethora of secret meetups, quickies in the bathrooms of his award shows, and 2 am 'you up?' texts during your year-long situationship with Jungkook. You both agreed in the beginning that your careers are far too hectic to commit to anything serious, but you can't shake the shitty ache in your chest every time the high wears off, or when you're crawling out of his bed in the middle of the night. Trying to exile the shitty feeling of longing that you harbor for him, you spend time with another one of your guy friends. Jungkook sees, and he's mad.

Four Seven Eight by jiminrings actress!reader, established relationship Summary: You’re secure when it comes to loving Jungkook, knowing that your husband loves you beyond words. What you aren’t so secure about is his first love — someone who isn’t you. Alternatively, Jungkook’s married to you, but he still celebrates his anniversary with his ex out of sentimentality.

You can also check the FWB list. I think most fics there have an overall feel of jealousy.

[marvelous-llama]

BTS recs

<<original book

most of the mentioned works is 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI

pls don´t hesitate to hmu, if any of mentioned links doesn´t work or you have suggestions for more fics... thank you so much for all the love and comments

one shots

Across a Crowded Room by @monimonimoon

Jungkook x fem!reader (wc - 10.7k) strangers to lovers - smut, hurt/comfort Dissatisfied and uncomfortable at a party where you don't belong, in a country where you feel like you don't belong, you see a man looking at you from across the room. Maybe he's what you've been missing.

Kissing In The Moonlight by @apotatomashedbybts

Jungkook x fem!reader (wc - 5.1k) ons, friends to lovers-ish - angst, fluff, smut He was everything you ever wanted. He was everything you lost. But as luck would have it you meet again and all you have is one night with him... or may be forever.

unspoken by @jeonverselol

Jungkook x fem!reader (wc - 11.1k) friends to lovers - smut, fluff you and Jungkook were not just friends but none of y’all really addressed it so the tension between you two just grew and you played along with it but as things get heated, Jungkook finally finds the need to address the unspoken situationship you two have after feeling like someone might be taking his invisible spot.

happy birthday loser by @jungk0oksthighs

Jungkook x fem!reader (wc - 8k) roommates to lovers - smut after three years of simping over your roommate, you give him one hell of a birthday celebration. idiots to lovers pwp oneshot. literally zero plot

hurts so good by @jjkeverlast

Jungkook x fem!reader (wc - 4.3k) best friends to lovers - crack, smut having jungkook as a best friend had it's cons, for one he complains, a lot. surprisingly he shows up at your door at two in the morning to complain about something incredibly different.

There´s No Way by @redjoonie

Jungkook x fem!reader (wc - 5.4k) best friends to lovers - fluff, smut You wake up not remembering what happened last night, not knowing where you are, and to whom the cold hard body beside you belongs to. You're also not expecting to be confessing your feelings to your best friend. But hey, they say that orgasms cure hangovers ya' know.

make you mine by @mercurygguk

Jungkook x fem!reader (wc - 37.8k) friends to lovers, university AU - fluff, angst, smut your first day at your new college is quite eventful to say the least. but everything seems slightly less chaotic when Jeon Jungkook offers to help you on your way – if only knowing him wasn’t an even bigger mess than the day you first met.

Torn Apart by @bethschamberoftales

Jungkook x fem!reader (wc - 8.5k) established relationship, infidelity - angst, smut, angst That one time when you caught your boyfriend cheating on you. next part: Let Me Heal You (Taehyung x fem!reader)

series

go ahead and cry by @jeonverselol

Jungkook x fem!reader friends to lovers - angst, smut part 1, part 2

regroup by @drvmekoo

Jungkook x fem!reader university AU - angst, fluff, eventual smut

Call Me by @peachypinkygloss

Jungkook x fem!reader strangers > fwb > lovers, rich reader, summer break AU - angst, hurt/comfort, smut, fluff Summer break is always your favourite period of the year, enjoying the fresh water of the pool and the sun kissing your skin. Everything's going great until a sudden boy appears in your life and becomes the centre of your world.

colour me in by @taegularities

Jungkook x fem!reader fake dating, fwb, university AU - fluff, angst, smut Jungkook's door only opens for you when there's a barter: a trade of lust and haze. But today you knock for something more, as intriguing as it is frightening – and you hope it doesn't close his door forever.

seven days a week by @jjkeverlast

Jungkook x fem!reader (wc - 14.1k) fwb to lovers, university AU - fluff, smut jeon jungkook has always had crazy ideas, but wanting to fuck you every day of the week was the last thing you expected.

[minecraftrelatedrandomness]

Aqua's Pirates SMP Fanfic Recommendations (c. Aug 2024)

As a Pirates fic writer myself, am I sad about how few Pirates fics there are in our AO3 tag? Absolutely, and I'm working to change that, one fic at a time. In the meantime, here are some of my fic recs that I particularly enjoyed while in this fandom so far and would like to share with the class.

Note: This post does not include fics that I myself have written or works that were created by content creators directly involved with series canon production (to my knowledge).

(Mostly) Canon Compliant

Aftermath of a Falling Star by KomodoKalia

Is slightly canon non-compliant as of the finale but to a mostly negligible degree

Takes place after Dec 8th streams but before Scott's stream epilogue

In which p!Scott is not coping well after the events of that lore finale; heed the content warnings

One-shot; completed (3.2K words)

CW: Bittersweet ending (but heavy on bitter for most of the fic), blood, canon character death (described semi-graphically), grief, mental health issues, suicide ideation, survivor guilt, trauma; heavy angst, I cried reading this at least once

Be More Careful by Abyss101

Takes place before Oct 10th streams

In which p!Ros tends to p!Sausage's wounds and they are friends

One-shot; completed (1.0K words)

CW: Blood and injury

binary hosts by twice_past

Takes place over the course of the SMP

In which p!Martyn tries and fails to not get attached to those he doesn't think are real, and there are 1.5 hugs

Ft. p!Sausage, p!Scott, p!Owen, p!Bek, and p!Oli

One-shot; completed (4.2K words)

CW: V-Tuber lore-typical unreality

Bubble Bath by funkily

Estimated to take place early in the series

In which p!Martyn gets a bubble bath and there is tender domesticity, ft. p!Sausage

One-shot; completed (1.7K words)

CW: Exactly two (2) double entendres (made in canon), non-sexual nudity, mild V-Tuber lore-typical unreality

climb ye higher by sesquidpedalian

Takes place at an ambiguous point in the series; I'd estimate between Chapters 1 and 2

In which p!Scott and p!Owen talk about family and legacy; character study

One-shot; completed (2.0K words)

CW: Bad parenting, mental health issues

The Curse Of The Golden Raiders by Panalian

Takes place during the Sept 29th streams

p!Martyn-centric; livestream retelling of p!Martyn and p!Sausage's Golden Beard quest curse messages

One-shot; completed (4.3K words)

CW: Hallucinations, mental health issues

drown your sorrows by jaz_it_up [Archive-locked]

Takes place early in the series

Crossover with Hermitcraft (and to a lesser extent, the Life series)

In which p!Scar is the same man as the silly tycoon from Hermitcraft Season 8, the "great sea-beast" that "sunk the Flying Jellie" was Moon Big, and being the sole survivor of a world-ending disaster is not good for a person's mental health

One-shot; completed (1.2K words)

CW: Alcohol, death, grief, mental health issues, suicide ideation, trauma

i have seen deer split open on the road by sesquidpedalian

Takes place after Sept 3rd streams

p!Owen-centric; p!Owen and p!Scott relationship study

One-shot; completed (3.5K words)

CW: Alcohol, grief, queerphobia (canon-compliant, discussed)

Ink Isn't Just For Maps by Panalian

Takes place early in the series

In which the pirates had their faction's bird wings tattooed across their backs

Follows p!Martyn, p!Owen and p!Scott, and p!Acho

One-shot; completed (1.8K words)

CW: Alcohol, Aurelia and Hudson Denholm's A+ parenting (/sarc, briefly mentioned), blood, dead bodies (intrusive thoughts), injury, needles

It's tough to be a God (Tread where mortals have not trod) by Panalian

Takes place at the end of and after Oct 26th streams

"Why rely on a God when you can just become one?" In which p!Martyn steals the Sunset Stone and learns that his actions have consequences

One-shot; completed (2.4K words)

CW: Non-consensual body modification, panic attacks

message in a bottle by oRIrelish

Chapter 1 takes place pre-canon; Chapter 2 takes place post-finale

Letters from p!Scott to p!Acho while the latter is presumed/confirmed dead

Two-shot; completed (982 words)

CW: Abandonment, canon character death, grief, mental health issues

Severe Weather Warning by Abyss101

Presumably takes place sometime during Chapter 3

p!Owen-centric; in which a thunderstorm hits while many of the cast are out at sea

One-shot; completed (2.8K words)

CW: Drowning, near-death experiences, thalassophobia

This Ship Will Carry Our Bodies Safe To Shore by Disorganised_Bagel

Takes place during the Aug 27th streams

p!Ros-centric; livestream retelling of p!Ros and p!Michela sailing to the Corrupted Island (and getting lost along the way)

One-shot; completed (1.0K words)

Wide Open Skies Ahead (Here's Where I Lay Myself Down) and All My Aching Bones Are Trembling (And I May Yet Fall Apart) by Disorganised_Bagel

First fic takes place early in the series, second fic takes place during/shortly after the Dec 8th streams

p!Ros character study at the start and end of the SMP

Both are one-shots; completed (644 words, 1.4K words)

CW (second fic only): Implied/referenced canon character death, dissociation, fire, mental health issues, unhappy ending

Your Hat is in Fragments by solarvampire

Takes place early in the series

Contains references to Hermitcraft, the Life series, and Rats SMP

In which p!Martyn and p!Scar both have secrets to keep, but one remembers more than the other

One-shot; completed (1.4K words)

CW: 2nd person POV, open-ish ending, past character death, trauma

Alternate Universe

But I am Bone and Blood by BananaTheIntellectual

Technically canon-divergent AU

Takes place sometime before mid-August in the canon timeline

p!Scott and Heron faction-centric; in which the Denholm parents want to know if our generation of Herons are up to their standards, which goes about as well as you'd expect

Multi-chapter; completed (14.9K words)

CW: Aurelia and Hudson Denholm's A+ parenting (/sarc); alcohol, bittersweet ending, blood and injury, death in childbirth (discussed briefly), mental health issues, slut-shaming (briefly), trauma; heavy angst

Ships: Background Sausage/Scott (has a few paragraphs but is a minor part of the fic as a whole), other background ships

Enemy Faces Look The Safest by TheJinxedGhost

Childhood Friends AU

Would take place at an ambiguous point in canon, but I'd estimate early on due to the characters involved

In which p!Tubbo's ship sinks in a storm, and p!Scar helps

One-shot; completed (2.3K words)

CW: Bittersweet ending, grief, minor character death, near-death experience

I feel I am sinking and sailing to swim (over and over) by fruitylynn

Time loop AU

In which p!Martyn is trapped in the game loop and has to go through the SMP all over again

One-shot; completed (949 words)

CW: Glitch text, mental health issues, unhappy ending, V-Tuber lore-typical unreality, whump

Interdimensional by AstronautBeans

AU in which p!Martyn is actually somewhat honest to at least one person about who he really is

Would take place at an ambiguous point in canon

p!Martyn-centric; in which p!Martyn is the Datastream Defender, p!Sausage is a world-hopper, and there is hurt/comfort

CW: Mental health issues, V-Tuber lore-typical unreality

looked a little lost at sea by horsegirlceret [Archive-locked]

AU in which everyone has a dæmon like in His Dark Materials (i.e. an animal representing a person's soul)

Estimated to take place between Sept 22nd and Sept 26th in the canon timeline

Kite faction-centric; in which the Faction Isles have an annual boat race and someone has gotta go win it

Multi-chapter; in progress as of time of posting (4K+ words)

CW: Alcohol mention

Mission Brief by savannah_owl

Star Trek AU; crossover with the Life series

p!Martyn and Kestrel-centric; in which the Kestrels make secret plans to go to war against a rogue p!Tubbo

One-shot; completed (2.4K words)

Of Low Tides, Luck And Loaded Guns by savannah_owl

Non-canon compliant backstory AU

Estimated to take place about a decade pre-canon

In which a pirate captain speaks of his past, and p!Sausage rights some past wrongs

One-shot; completed (2.8K words)

CW: Alcohol, domestic abuse (past), gun violence, misogyny and objectification of women (by an unsympathetic character), sexual harassment (briefly by an unsympathetic character), violence

when this song is over by captainschaos

Came Back Wrong / Church of Iris AU

Estimated to take place between Dec 2nd and the finale in the canon timeline

p!Bek-centric; in which p!Bek is working for Iris and is sent to kidnap others on the Isles (tagged as Ambiguous/Open Ending but I consider it bittersweet)

Multi-chapter; completed (10.8K words)

CW: Kidnapping, memory alteration

Shipping

Dream Of The Devil And He Shall Appear by StormChaosfox

Ships: Martyn/Scott, other background ships

Crossover with the Life series

In which p!Scott has dreams and flashes of Limited Life, and p!Martyn might know a thing or two about that

Technical one-shot (sequels are on Tumblr); completed (3.1K words)

CW: Alcohol, discussions of hypothetical and past character death

I'd Follow You To The Great Unknown (Off To A World We Call Our Own) by Millyate20lemonshelp

Ships: Aimsey/Guqqie

Canon compliant; takes place shortly after the July 30th streams (AKA shortly after SMP Launch Day)

p!Aimsey-centric; in which p!Aimsey and p!Guqqie reunite in the afterlife

One-shot; completed (452 words)

CW: Bittersweet ending, canon character death

Pirates!Epilogue AU by SilentSilverBee

Ships: Caer/Will (note: this ship would have been canon if the worldbuilding had added up), background Graecie/Madeleine

Technically canon-compliant AU

Takes place several years post-canon

In which there is major character undeath to be had, and maybe p!Will gets a delayed bittersweet ending instead of being doomed by the narrative three times over

Series; ongoing as of time of posting (2.5K+ words)

CW: Alcohol, canon character death, Gavin Renais' A+ parenting (/sarc)

Note: If you have no idea who half of these characters are, I strongly recommend going over the Luscinia subplot (spanning the p!Will and p!Shep POVs)

royal ghosts and realisations by codesandstuff

Ships: Bek/El (ambiguous), other background ships (background Sausage/Scott is explicitly named)

Canon universe; would take place at an ambiguous point in canon, but I'd guess sometime before October in the canon timeline

p!Bek-centric; in which there are p!Bek and p!El relationship discussions

One-shot; completed (1.9K words)

CW: Potential discussions of amatonormativity

schroedinger's boyfriend, observed by GoodTimesWithScar

Ships: Martyn/Oli

Modern AU; crossover with Rats and Empires Season 2

In which c!Oli is a plural system consisting of e2!Oli, p!Oli, and r!Oli, and c!Martyn cracks that

One-shot; completed (2.5K words)

CW: Dissociation, identity issues

sing it again, but softer by codesandstuff

Ships: El/Water, other background ships

Spy/Secret Agent AU

Has references to the WitchCraft SMP and the QSMP but prior knowledge of those SMPs is not required to understand this fic

p!El gets promoted and navigates life from there

One-shot; completed (3.7K words)

you touched my hand with a grin by GoodTimesWithScar

Ships: El/Water, Jeffery/Water (past)

Canon universe; takes place a few months post-canon

p!Water-centric; in which p!El and p!Water go on a picnic date after everything goes down

One-shot; completed (1.9K words)

CW: Grief

Annotations

I filtered out the E-rated fics in the tag and avoided most M-rated fics in general while compiling this list; if you're into reading those, feel free to browse the tags yourself

Crossover fics are actually pretty common in this fandom, but I mostly left them out because many of them don't actually focus on the Pirates side of things, which honestly defeats the whole point of this rec list