#but if they kill anyone mark my words | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yuujispinkhair · 3 months ago

Text

CAUGHT

You don't know when things changed or why, but at some point, you started to run not because you wanted to escape but because you wanted Sukuna to catch you.

King of Curses!Sukuna x Reader (female). 3k words. 18+, smut, dubcon/noncon in the beginning because Reader was given to Sukuna as a gift against her will. Later it turns into primal play, which both enjoy. Getting chased and caught by Sukuna, rough sex, light choking, Sukuna bites Reader, creampie, squirting, breeding. Sukuna is portrayed in human form (only two arms etc). Minors don't interact. Dividers by me.

This story is inspired by this beautiful fanart by my lovely friend @sweetlandspos. Thank you for blessing me with this sexy picture!

Your breath comes out in soft puffs as you run light-footedly through the forest, only wrapped in a thin, almost see-through white silk robe. The skin on your arms is raised in goosebumps, but not because you are cold. It's the thrill of the chase, anticipating the big, terrifying King to catch you and take you. The thrill of not knowing when exactly he hunts you down and overpowers you. Your lips open in an excited chuckle. Your nipples are stiff and rub against the delicate fabric of your robe. Desire is pulsing hotly between your legs.

You have lost count of how many times you have already run from Sukuna, only to get captured again and brought back to his shrine.

In the beginning, you ran because you were truly trying to escape from this powerful, scary man you had been given to as a gift. Ryomen Sukuna, The King of Curses. The most powerful sorcerer to ever live. Everyone groveled in fear when Sukuna visited a town. He could easily kill anyone and ground the whole place to dust with just a flick of his hand. So, people tried to please him by offering their loyalty, making sacrifices in his name, and bringing him gifts.

And you were one of those gifts.

The only daughter of your town's most prosperous merchant. Your father has always been someone who knows how to negotiate, and he took his chance when he saw Sukuna marching toward your town. He had you dressed up in your most beautiful clothes, your skin adorned with gold and jewels, and then you were led toward the man known as The King of Curses.

Sukuna was pleased with the gift. He placed a large, strong hand on your upper arm and pulled you to his side as a broad smirk spread over his striking features with the black markings. He took you with him and told you he would make you his little bride one day if you behaved well enough. Until then, you would be his favorite pastime.

Your town still stands. No blood was shed. The only sacrifice that was made was you.

Maybe it was selfish, but you were scared of this powerful, cruel man and angry that your father had just offered you to Sukuna as if you were a thing, forcing you to give yourself to Sukuna almost every night so he could find relief in your body after a busy day.

And so you did the selfish thing and tried to escape. You sneaked out at dusk because it was the easiest time to slip away, and there was still enough light so you could find your way through the forest surrounding Sukuna's shrine.

The first time you ran, you came as far as the first line of trees, already thinking you made it. But then you heard the heavy footsteps behind you.

He didn't run. He just walked casually as if he was in no hurry at all. Just a leisurely stroll through the forest. It somehow made things even more terrifying. Only hearing the slow but heavy footsteps of this huge and dangerous man. Hearing the twigs snap beneath his feet. And his low, velvety voice calling out to you, taunting you, making fun of you for thinking you could run from him.

"Are you a little bunny? How amusing that you think you can outrun me. Come on, little bunny, give me your best!"

Sukuna laughed. And you ran as fast as your feet could carry you, your panicky breaths loud in your ear, your heart pounding so fast that you felt delirious. Fear was making the hair on your neck stand up, adrenaline rushing in your veins, making you run faster than you ever had before in your life.

But, of course, it wasn't fast enough. Sukuna let you run yourself to exhaustion that night, always casually strolling behind you as he basked in your fear. An experienced hunter, confident and dangerous.

When he finally had enough of the little cruel game, he snapped his fingers, and you only managed to let out a terrified squeal as you felt his magic wrap around you, paralyzing you. He made time stand still just with a snap of his fingers! His power terrified you, made you weep tearlessly as you stood there frozen in midstep, trapped helplessly as the King of Curses slowly walked up to you.

Sukuna's voice was dripping with amusement and sadistic joy when he stopped behind you,

"Oh, little one, I didn't take you for a playful one. But I am not complaining. This was a nice little distraction. But it's enough now. We're returning to the shrine, and I will show you your place."

He snapped his fingers again, and you stumbled forward, gasping as you caught your balance and instinctively started running again. You only got a few steps away before a pair of muscular arms wrapped around you and lifted you from the ground, even as you screamed and struggled. It was a futile attempt, of course. The King had caught you. You stood no chance.

Sukuna wasn't gentle when he threw you over one of his broad shoulders and carried you back to the shrine. And he also wasn't gentle when he pressed you down on his bed later that night and took you with even more force than usual.

One of his large hands captured both of your wrists and pinned them above your head while his heavy, muscular body pressed you down, knocking the air out of you with every hard thrust. You screamed when Sukuna sank his teeth into your flesh, deep enough to leave his mark on you forever. He healed the wound afterward, but only so much that it would still leave a scar, marking you as his for the rest of your life. A reminder of your failed attempt at running from him.

Maybe for anyone else, it would have been enough reason to give up and be obedient. But not for you. Only three nights later, you sneaked out again, trying your luck again.

And again and again after that. And Sukuna always captured you again.

You don't know when things changed or why, but at some point, you started to run not because you wanted to escape but because you wanted Sukuna to catch you. You wanted him to drag you back to his shrine and fuck you hard into his bed, showing you where you belonged.

"See, that's your place. Under me, stuffed to the hilt with my cock and my seed. You are mine. You are going nowhere. You cannot run from me, little one."

But you took his punishment all too willingly. And all his words did was make you throb around him needily, reaching your high even before him.

Was this still considered punishment when the one getting punished enjoyed it? When you squealed delightedly into the silk pillow that Sukuna pressed your face into as he took you from behind? When you creamed all over him when his hand tangled painfully in your hair and he fucked you savagely, with hard, brutal thrusts, while his sweat and spit dripped onto your naked skin?

He said you could never run from him, and yet you tried it all the time. It became a game. A game of catch. Sukuna was the hunter, and you were the very willing prey.

Your heart still raced wildly anytime you got chased by Sukuna. All your senses were heightened. Your veins sang with adrenaline as you ran through the forest, but your skin was also tingling with excitement, and your thighs were slick from the warm wetness between them, gathering there in anticipation of Sukuna claiming you again.

But you weren't the only one who enjoyed it. As tired as Sukuna sometimes looked after a day of meeting with people who wanted something from him, he was always fully alert and enthusiastic when it came to chasing you through the forest.

His steps were light, his laughter ecstatic, and his beautiful face alight with excitement. Just like his body was brimming with desire. You could feel his hardness pressing against you anytime he captured you, just as aroused as you were. The chase awakened something feral in both of you.

Sometimes, he didn't even wait until he carried you home but just took you right there on the forest floor, grunting in your ear as he mounted you like a wild animal, making you cry out and scream your lust into the night.

And now you are running through the forest in your thin silk robe, a delicious mixture of fear and arousal making your blood sing. Sukuna is taking his time today, and it makes the excitement even stronger.

As always, when you run from Sukuna, your senses are sharpened. Your muscles are taut, your body alert with the thrill of the hunt. He could be on you at any moment.

You wonder what he will do tonight. Use his magic or his strength? Will he tackle you to the ground and ram his cock into your heat, unwilling to wait? Or will he carry you back to the shrine, taking his sweet time to feel you kick and squirm in his strong arms, playfully fighting him, making both of you even more riled up, until it ends in a frenzied fuck in Sukuna's bed?

You strain your ears, trying to catch the sound of Sukuna's heavy footsteps. But there is nothing.

You frown. Where is he? Did he not notice you leaving? You haven't been exactly silent. You never are nowadays. But even when you really tried to escape and sneaked out without making any noise, he still got wind of it and tracked you down.

So why isn't he behind you?

You have almost reached the other end of the forest, and you slow down to a walking pace, looking over your shoulder expectantly. Hopefully. Longingly.

But there is no sign of Sukuna.

Does he maybe want to drag it out? Wait until you are about to set foot out of the forest, just so he can jump you and drag you back? You have reached the edge of the forest and come to a complete halt.

Your throat feels tight, and your heart is beating way too rapidly. But it's not the thrill of the chase that fills you with fear.

He isn't coming.

You hover uncertainly at the edge of the forest, not knowing what to do. You could keep running. You could make it to the river, steal one of the fisherboats, and disappear forever. Just like you originally planned when you first tried to run from Sukuna. You could do it now. You could be free.

But the problem is you don't want to be.

You let out a shaky breath and turn around. This time, you don't run from Sukuna but towards him. Towards his shrine. Towards his home. Your home.

At least, you hope it still is. Or did he get tired of your constant running? Of your stupid games? Is that why he didn't come to catch you tonight? Did he decide he doesn't want a woman like you who always causes trouble? Did he decide he doesn't want you to be his little bride anymore?

A desperate sob escapes your lips. Your feet move even faster now over the soft forest floor, your heart palpitating with fear because you are scared you are too late and Sukuna won't let you come back to him.

It's later than usual, the night is already falling, wrapping the forest into darkness. But you have walked this path so often that you can easily find your way through the tall trees.

Apart from the sound of your harsh breaths and footsteps, the forest is eerily silent. It's strange, you think. One would assume that you would encounter many forest animals at this time, but you can't see or hear any. It's almost as if they are hiding because they sense a much more dangerous predator nearby.

And then, completely out of the blue, a strong arm wraps around your neck, stopping your run abruptly.

Your piercing scream echoes through the forest. Your heart jumps up to your throat, hammering wildly, stars dancing before your eyes from the sudden shock of getting grabbed like that so unexpectedly. Your hands come up instinctively, trying to pry the large hand off your skin, fingernails digging sharply into it, but to no avail.

A familiar low voice announces smugly,

"Caught you, little one."

"S... Sukuna! I didn't hear you coming!"

Sukuna's hand tightens around your throat, squeezing it lightly, making even more adrenaline flood your already overly sensitive body. But it mixes with relief. He came to catch you! He didn't get tired of you!

He laughs softly, a sound almost like a purr, making the hairs on your arms stand up.

"Hmm, I was just watching tonight. And I saw the most curious thing. A little bunny that wasn't running from me but towards me."

Sukuna's low voice sounds amused. You feel his tall, broad body press against your back. Feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of your robe. He is naked from the waist up, you realize.

Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest, and your vision is blurry. Arousal pulses between your legs, wet and hot, filling you with an all-consuming, primal need for the man behind you. The man who was stalking you through this dark forest. Watching you. Hunting you like prey. The man who knows exactly what you did.

You feel shy suddenly. Caught, but not just in the physical sense. Sukuna knows. He knows that you weren't trying to escape from him. He knows that you so desperately want to be his. He heard you sob when you thought he didn't come for you. He saw you stumble back towards the shrine. Back to him.

It makes you feel exposed. Makes you nervous and light-headed. Your voice comes out hoarsely when Sukuna loosens the tight grip around your neck enough to allow you to speak,

"I must have lost orientation."

You can't see it, but you can hear the smirk in Sukuna's velvety voice,

"You think you are so sly, huh, little one? Do you really think I don't know what you are doing?"

His low voice drops to a seductive whisper when he adds,

"This little bunny wants to get caught."

A large, strong hand twists in the front of your robe, and then he tears it off you in one fluid motion. You gasp when the cold air brushes over your naked skin. But Sukuna's large hand immediately comes up again to grope your breasts, cupping them greedily, squeezing them, his long pointy nails scratching over your hardened peaks teasingly, making you whimper with lust.

The night air is chilly, but Sukuna's tall, broad body is warm, and the kisses he trails from your neck to your shoulder are searing hot, just like the desire coursing through your body.

You moan needily, pressing your naked body against the massive man behind you, feeling his warm skin on yours and the huge, hot hardness between his legs pressing against you, pulsing with arousal.

Your legs are shaking when one of Sukuna's large hands trails down your naked body and pushes between your thighs, cupping your cunt for a moment, just holding you, one hand around your throat, the other on your most intimate body part. Truly caught.

He laughs softly when his long fingers dip into your warm cunt, feeling your creamy wetness, evidence of how much his little bunny loves to get chased by him.

Relief and exhilaration flood your senses. Sukuna caught you! He didn't give up on you! He still wants to keep you!

As if reading your mind, Sukuna leans down, his lips brushing over your hair,

"You were so scared I wouldn't come, huh?"

The words are smug, but his voice is full of something else. Something warm, like affection.

He pulls his hand away from your dripping cunt, letting the night air kiss your swollen clit while Sukuna pushes his trousers down. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your breath coming out in short, weak huffs, and a soft whimper falls from your lips.

And then Sukuna snaps his hips, and a loud gasp escapes your mouth when he pushes the swollen head of his heavy cock into you, stretching your tight cunt open around his manhood. With another roll of his strong hips, he claims you completely, burying himself fully in your tight heat.

He lets out a low groan, his strong arms tightening around your much smaller body, pulling you against him, holding you in place as he ruts into you, taking you while standing up, just like he caught you.

Sukuna's low moans grow louder, just like the filthy wet noises of him claiming his prey, mounting you from behind right here where he caught you, filling the otherwise silent forest with the animalistic, primal sounds of fucking.

You push against Sukuna eagerly, moaning when he snaps his hips even faster, fucking you hard and deep. Giving in to his desires after holding back for so long while he stalked you through this forest.

You reach behind you, needing to touch him, whimpering when you get a hold of Sukuna's taut backside, digging your fingernails into the firm muscles, leaving crescent-shaped marks on his skin. Your eyes fall shut, and you lean against him, taking his cock eagerly, mewling and sobbing as the pleasure builds deep inside you.

You feel Sukuna tense up behind you. He growls as his hips buck and he fills you with his hot seed, thick spurt after spurt. And your lustful cries echo through the forest as you reach your high, too, clenching around Sukuna's length, milking him greedily. Your arousal sprays everywhere, over Sukuna's cock and onto the forest floor beneath you, while you cry out his name over and over again like a prayer.

Sukuna doesn't let go of you, even after you both found completion. He is still behind you, naked, buff body pressed against yours, his thick cock still deep inside you, breeding you, showing you that you are still his little bride, pulsing the last drops of his orgasm into you while the first rivulets of his warm seed already run down your thighs.

You lean back against him, pulse fluttering, feeling ecstatic after the hunt and after coming undone with your King in the middle of the dark forest.

You can feel Sukuna's broad, muscular chest rising and falling with every breath. His hand around your neck has loosened its tight grip, and the long fingers with the sharp nails lightly caress your skin. His other hand comes up to cup your forehead, his fingers tugging on your hair, pulling your head back against him.

You are so entirely at his mercy, caught in his strong arms, stuffed with his thick cock. But you feel no fear. You know you are safe in your captor's arms.

Sukuna leans down, humming softly before he presses a possessive yet tender kiss into your hair.

"I will always come to catch you and bring you back home, my little bride, no matter how often you run."

And instead of feeling scared by his promise, a pleased smile lifts your lips.

HE MAKES ME FERAL!! 😭😭

I would be very willing to be Sukuna's little bride and his beloved prey, which he chases through the woods ;)

Thank you so much for this sexy pic, Émilie!! I saw it, and my mind went crazy 💗 I will think about this forever! I hope I could make you smile with this little story!!

And thank you so much to everyone, who read this story!! I hope you enjoyed getting chased by Sukuna ;)

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

#sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna #jjk smut #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #tw dubcon #tw dark content

3K notes · View notes

foreverdolly · 9 months ago

Text

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part I 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. (needs to be edited, so please excuse any temporary errors!)

word count: 5.3k

← previous chapter | next chapter →

The ancient walls of Castle Caladan were a fortress, the long winding halls a labyrinth to those unfamiliar with its layout. You had tried feigning sleep when you had been made aware of the surprise guest’s arrival, a one “reverend mother”- as your mother referred to her. The cool air from the hallway nipped at your exposed arm, which currently hung limply over the side of the bed.

“She’s even smaller than your son, Jessica.” The voice sounded more like a wheeze- and it certainly didn’t belong to anyone you had ever met before.

“As I’ve already said, the Atreides are slow to grow.” Your mother’s tone didn’t hold even a semblance of a bite to it, not like you expected. She was usually fiercely protective of you and your brother.

Your finger twitched, causing the woman to stifle whatever disapproving comment she was about to make. Being caught eavesdropping like this certainly wasn’t ideal, but you found it impossible not to be curious.

“She really is just like her brother,” More like he was more like you. You’d always been the rowdy one of the two. Paul must have been listening in as well, and you imagined that he was more insulted at the comments of his lack of height and muscle than you were. “The little rascals.”

There was a beat of silence before the woman began to crone again. This time you opened your eyes just a sliver, staring into the dark abyss of your room so that you could make out the shapes of your mother and the stranger.

“Rest now. Both you and your brother need to be prepared to meet my Gom Jabbar.” The reason couldn’t be pinpointed, but there was something about her tone that filled you with dread.

Your mother woke you up the next morning, bright and early.

Not even the breathing exercises that your mother had taught you had been able to calm you down last night. The darkness had swallowed you whole, which resulted in a dreamless sleep that left you feeling just as unrested as you had felt the night before. Your mother noticed your hesitations, the skirts of her dress dragging against the stone floor as she moved in the direction of your closet. The dress that she picked out for you was one of your more official garments, the red hawk of the Atreides crest proudly sewn onto the right breast.

“Did you sleep well?” She questioned as she laid the dress neatly onto the edge of the bed, urging you to stand once her hands were free.

You blinked at her, nervously brushing your hands along the soft cotton of your nightdress. Your voice felt stuck in your throat, but you still managed to lie.

“Yes, of course.” Your tone was flat, and for once she didn’t question you on the reasoning. She knew exactly what had you feeling so uncomfortable in your own home.

Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar.

What exactly did the old woman want from your family? Lady Jessica was a Bene Gesserit, which could only mean that this woman was a higher up, sent to pay you and your brother a visit. You knew nothing about any “coming of age” rituals.

Paul barged into the room, dressed in his finer clothes as well. He leaned against the wall of your room, lips pursed as if he was deep in thought. You tilted your head to the side, leveling him a worried glance. He simply shook his head, and you knew at once that he wasn’t trying to dismiss your worries.

‘Not here. Later.’ His expression told you, and for once you obeyed.

“The reverend mother is waiting on the both of you. Paul, get out of your sister’s room so she can get ready.” She commanded, her tone leaving no room for whining or disobedience.

He groaned, pushing himself off of the wall so that he could head back out and into the hall. You shrugged out of your dress quickly at the hurried insistence of your mother, allowing her to do up the clasps of the dress for you.

“Who is she?” You asked simply, brushing your hair to the side so that she could get a better grasp of the dress.

“She was my teacher at the Bene Gesserit school and now she is the Emperor’s Truthsayer.” Your mother sighed out your name, turning you quickly so that you were facing her. “You need to do exactly as she says. There is no room to be prideful today, do you understand?” Her eyes were pleading, and you knew that she had your best interests in mind.

You and your mother walked wordlessly out into the hall, catching up with your brother who was busy running his fingers along the uneven stone walls. You flashed a quick look at your mother before jogging to catch up with Paul, taking the hem of his sleeve into your hand.

“What do you know?” You whispered, turning your head so that you could look at your mother. Much to your surprise she seemed to be in no hurry to separate the two of you.

“I’ve had dreams about her before,” He whispered, and you had to pick up your pace to keep up with his strides. “And mother told me this morning that I have to tell her about my visions.”

Your mouth went a bit dry at the realization that this woman truly was here just for you and your brother. What is the Gom Jabbar and what did it entail? There was no telling.

“She’s in my morning room, you two.” She called out after you.

Jessica caught up, leveling the both of you a disapproving motherly look that had the two of you slowing your strides to match hers. She seemed a bit hesitant, eyes flickering between you and your brother and the closed door.

The “reverend mother” sat in one of the tapestried chairs, her arms perched on either side of the armrests as she watched the three of you come in. The view behind her was beautiful, the sprawling, green farmlands of the Atreides family holding on full display through the large windows behind her. You glanced at your brother, eyes widening when you realized that he was already looking at you. He bowed in her direction and you followed his lead.

“They are a cautious bundle, aren’t they?” The witch-like woman croaked, looking between the two of you.

“As they have been taught, your reverence.”

In this room, here in front of this woman, Jessica was no longer the Duke’s concubine nor your mother. She was reduced to that of a pupil in the face of her teacher. You kept yourself from fidgeting, clasping your hands in front of you. You fought the urge to reach out and grab your brother’s hand, as the two of you so often did when faced with anxiety as children. Fear hadn’t regressed you to that of a blubbering child in years.

Your mother also seemed to fear the woman before her. There was something in her tone that led you to believe that whatever she was here for, it surely wasn’t a pleasantry. Your brother was tense at your mother’s other side, jaw tense as he stared the reverend mother down.

“Teaching is one thing, but there are some things that cannot simply be taught,” Paul’s eyebrows furrowed as she spoke, and as if she was dismissing a servant of the castle, she waved your mother off with a flick of her wrist. “You and your daughter leave us. It will be her turn soon.”

For the first time that morning your mother hesitated, eyes softened as she looked upon her son.

“Your reverence, I-” She began, but was cut off before she could finish whatever it is she was going to say. Surely it was meant to be an objection.

“Jessica, you know that this must be done.” Her voice held a tone of finality. There was no room for your mother to try and wiggle the both of you two out of this trap.

“Yes. . . of course.” Your mother straightened, turning towards both of you.

“This test. . . It’s very important to me, you two.” She spoke in a hushed voice, eyes still fearful.

“Test?” The two of you questioned at the same time, looking at one another in concern. You were confused, even more so than you were before.

“Remember that you’re the duke’s son.” And with that your mother was grabbing your arm, pulling you in the direction of the door.

“I suppose that it is my turn?” Your voice shook with anger as you practically tore the door off of its hinges, anxious to take your brother’s place. His cries and whimpers did not go unheard, even with the thick wood separating the two of you.

Looking at him now, his right arm still shaking from the pain, was like being slapped across the face.

“Right you are, girl. Jessica, please escort your son out of the room.” There was a silvery glint in her bright eyes- a challenge. She could sense it in you.

Your mother didn’t interrupt this time, and without any words exchanged the door closed. Your brother was too shaken up by whatever had taken place in that room to fully comprehend that the same thing was going to happen to you. He tossed a terrified glance over his shoulder at you just before the heavy doors closed. The sound of it echoed around the room, pulsing in your chest as you tried to steady the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

“Your future. . . do you know what is expected of you?”

You eyed the black box that sat next to her as you began closing the distance between the two of you. The question she had asked. . . it was a touchy subject with you. Of course you knew. A day didn’t go by that you weren’t mortified by the prospect of your future. You only had three short years to live and enjoy before you would be forced to abandon your family to join hands with another one.

“Of course I do. It is my duty to marry.” Your voice had a bite to it, your eyes unwavering as you stared her veiled face down.

“It is your duty to marry a Harkonnen. It is an honor to be the only reason that these two great Houses are allies. Your heirs will be powerful beyond comprehension.” The way she spoke. . . she truly believed the shit she was spouting.

It was impossible to consider marrying Feyd an honor. It was an ever-present looming threat.

“Put your right hand in the box.” She commanded, nodding her head in it’s direction.

It seemed harmless enough, nothing more than a metal box. You bent your head ever-so-slightly, trying to have a look inside. It appeared to be a pitch black, endless void. No beginning or end in sight.

You did as you were told, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from muttering anything too disrespectful under your breath. If Paul’s screams were anything to go off of then this was going to be painful. Still, you were shocked by how cold the box was. You wiggled your fingers a few times, feeling the metal encasing them. Slowly a tingling sensation began, almost as if they were falling asleep.

“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.”

The tingling sensation somehow melded into. . . heat. No, not heat. Burning. It felt as though you had your hand held up to a bright flame. You flinched, but froze when you finally noticed that the reverend mother was holding something against your neck. Your eyes flickered the best that they could to her hand, not wanting to turn your head.

“What I hold at your neck is the Gom Jabbar. The tip of the needle is dipped in poison. Remove your hand from the box and I will plunge it into your neck.”

The palm of your free hand began to sweat, the gravity of the situation finally landing on your shoulders. You would be forced to endure the pain and there was nothing that anyone outside of the doors could do. No guards had come to protect your brother when it was his turn, and no matter how emotional your mother had gotten whilst hearing his screams she still hadn’t rushed in after him. You could truly die here in this room.

“Why are you doing this?” You urged, wincing again as the burning continued to worsen.

Now it felt as though you were almost touching a flame, fingers dancing dangerously close. It wasn’t just uncomfortable now but painful. “To determine if you’re human. Now be silent.”

Meant for greatness, yet stifled before her prime.

It was impossible for your clipped wings to take flight. The Bene Gesserit had instilled in you your purpose from a very young age, letting it be known that you were little more than cattle to be sold off to breed. The whole arrangement was dehumanizing, but this was the way of galactic high society. Every House had been developed by the close, watchful eye of the Bene Gesserit. Your mere existence was a result of a centuries long breeding program, so how could you ever expect for your own life to be any different?

Every child, especially in their naive youth, dreams of greatness. There was a point in time where you had hoped to mean something. There were differences to be made, rules to be broken, wars to be raged- but you would never be at the helm of any of it. But Paul. . . Paul was different.

“You know something that I don’t.” You weren’t asking Paul, rather telling him what you already knew.

Where you were used to your brother pulling no punches, he had been overly cautious with his treatment of you during training today. For a second he just stared ahead blankly at the wall, and you wondered whether he would try to lie. The older you’ve gotten, the stranger other people’s treatment of you has become. Women were little more than something to be owned. It was a hard lesson to learn and was one you were still grappling with.

Your femininity were the chains that bound you. And what of your ambition? It was currently acting as the flames licking at your boot heels. Soon you feared that it would fully engulf you; become your undoing.

“Tell me.” Your lovely features crumpled, and as childish as it was you found yourself giving his arm a slap.

He jumped at the sudden contact, eyes widening as he turned to face you after what felt like an eternity of prolonged silence between the two of you. The hard flooring felt cool beneath your legs as you stretched them out beneath you, and for a second you found it hard to keep yourself up in a sitting position. The world felt unsteady beneath you, both literally and figuratively.

Paul didn’t have to say anything at all. You looked, you saw, you felt, you understood. Your shared connection had nothing to do with your genes, rather it had to do with your likeness. Two bodies, two minds, but one soul. Your twin’s features crumpled, mirroring that of your own as he pushed a few strands of dark hair away from his face.

“So there is nothing I can do? My fate is sealed.” Your lips felt numb as you spoke.

Your brother’s visions were more frequent than they had ever been before. “Horrors”, he’d described them.

“If there was something I could do. . .” He started, turning quickly to face you, tucking one leg beneath himself. “My hands are tied. Mother and father’s hands are as well.”

Hiding you away or knowingly allowing you to escape your duties would be seen as an act of treason. You’d be putting your parents and their status in danger, and no matter how desperate you were to get out of any sort of marriage pact, it was far too late. Since the very moment you were conceived, this was what you were meant for.

“When will the orders come down, you think?” You pulled your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them tightly.

You wished that you could stay like this forever, protected from the rest of the world. If only you hadn’t been born as twins at all. You wanted so badly to be like Paul.

But the galaxy didn’t work like that. You were not fortunate enough to get what you wanted.

“Soon.”

You felt comforted by the hand that he placed on your shoulder, and even more so when he kept it there until you felt as though you were able to stand up.

You were to marry into House Harkonnen. That was your purpose; to unite the feuding houses and birth powerful offspring. You had met Feyd once before, but only for a fleeting moment. It hadn’t been awkward- no, back then the two of you hadn’t cared enough to pay any mind to the looming threat that was your betrothal. You’d been too young back then to fully grasp the severity of the situation.

You remembered being shocked by his size. He towered over Paul, appearing to be years older than he really was. His hair had been dark back then, thick and slightly curly.

He had only just been taken under his uncle’s wing at the time. The environment of Giedi Prime had yet to fully sink into the young boy. The Harkonnen’s looks had always been startling to you, no matter how many times you’d been exposed to it. They were dark creatures, brooding, hairless with skin as pale as milk- not to mention violent.

The desperate way that Paul had clung to you was not lost on you. You let him squeeze you as tightly as he needed, your arms locking around his back. This meeting would change everything. In a matter of moments your life as you knew it would be taking a drastic turn, and not for the better.

You’d made that very same trek to the parlor room a million times. This was your ancestral home- had been in your family longer than you thought was conceivable, and yet this felt new to you. Wrong. The shadows from the windows were casting strange lights on the wall beside you, and your footsteps sounded muffled in your ears as your pounding heart nearly deafened you. Your father’s hand brushed against your palm a few times, his attempt at showing you physical comfort without causing any sort of scene. You knew that this was Feyd-Rautha’s right.

You were Feyd-Rautha’s right. That simple fact alone was enough to send you reeling, that morning's breakfast churning in your stomach.

“It will be fine.” Your mother’s fingers shaped the words at her side, a comforting and silent presence.

Your parents had always protected you. They had taught you well in all aspects of life. She was right. You had to trust yourself just as much as you trusted them. This will be fine. You will survive.

But god, you wanted to live.

Your worst fear was being locked up like a caged animal, only taken out to be played with or paraded around. You didn’t want to be somebody's little wife; you were no homemaker or bed warmer.

‘I am better than this.’ You thought to yourself, your hands balling into fists at your sides.

As the double doors began creeping open, you felt the sudden urge to run the opposite direction, your parents be damned. The feud between House Atreides and House Harkonnen would surely become deadly if you were to turn your back on the promise now, and that was the only thing that steeled your feet. You stood, back straight and hands clasped tightly at your front.

You looked to be a pillar of strength, but oh- you were so close to crumbling. Your father took a step past the threshold, eyes hard as he bowed his head respectfully in the Baron’s direction. There was still time to turn around. The door was right there, and you were sure that you could commandeer a ship. You’d piloted a few times before in your life, and while you weren’t the best, you were certain you could get yourself the hell off of Caladan. You shuffled your feet, eyes wide as you looked up and caught your mother’s gaze. Her lips were parted, and you could tell that she was trying to decipher your expression.

“What are you doing?” Her hand moved quickly at her side, the flowy gauze-like material of her skirts hiding her frantic movements from the visitor’s view.

Nothing. You were doing nothing. There were no options yet. If you fled then the insubordination would fall back on your parents. If you downright refused then the outcome would be the same. There was nothing you could do but keep your mouth shut and try not to show the Harkonnen even a semblance of vulnerability.

Disdain rolled off of you in waves as you breezed into the parlor, eyes locked on the side of your father’s face as he conversed with the baron. Tensions were high, even now. No pleasantries were being exchanged, that you were sure of. The Harkonnen’s stark black attire was a startling contrast to their pale skin. There, in the middle of two other men, whom you were sure were present for reasons of protection, was Feyd.

He looked the same as the rest of them. Hairless, blue eyes dripping with something that could only be described as malice. Gone was the curly haired child that you remembered. In his place stood someone unrecognizable to you. You wanted to question what the Baron had done to Feyd, but you already knew. Perfection was expected on Geidi Prime.

He had shaped Feyd into the very likeness of perfection. The once dark haired boy was now a walking, talking machine; not even a dead leaf echo of the boy you met all those years ago.

You tried to map out every single one of his microexpressions, searching desperately for any sign that he might disapprove of the predicament the both of you had found yourselves in. He tilted his head to the side, observing you with a horrifying level of concentration. The Baron began to speak, saying something that you didn’t care enough to listen to. You were too distracted by the terrifying man before you.

“She will come back home to Geidi Prime with us. No objections, correct?”

You were marrying him out of an obligation, this he was already privy to. He had seen the reluctance written plain across your face as you’d entered the room. You’d wanted to run. Away from him, away from your responsibilities- and he could not blame you for it. His understanding stopped there though, simply because this proposal wasn’t going against his own wishes.

“The wedding isn’t taking place for another week.” The Duke didn’t seem to like the idea of his unwed daughter leaving his side.

Feyd fought back a smile, having known that the Baron’s sudden request would have this effect on the Atreides family. He watched you squirm like a bug under a magnifying glass, your hand moving at your hip. For a second he thought that you might be tugging at the seam of your dress, writing it off as nothing but a nervous tick- but then he saw the way your mother’s eyes followed those movements.

The two of you were communicating.

“That may be so, however I think that it is only right that your daughter,” Baron Vladimir motioned in your direction. “Becomes better acquainted with Feyd. You don’t agree?”

His uncle decided that it was best to test the boundaries of this alliance. He was pushing the Duke, seeing how far he could get. Leto’s lips twitched, his eyes flickering thoughtfully towards you. Feyd was finding it hard to pay attention to anyone else other than you in the room. He’d spent years imagining what you would look like as an adult- dreamt about it. He’d eagerly been awaiting this moment, counting the days that he could finally be reunited with you.

It wasn’t just because he had been promised powerful heirs. It was the thought that someone was fated to marry him. Since before he was even conceived, you had always been promised to him. That idea had been put into his head since childhood. You were the constant topic in his mind, a person that was unavoidably meant to be in his life for the rest of his days.

In a strange way he had loved you since he was but a child.

Seeing you for that first time had been better than he had anticipated. You were a beautiful little girl, but now? The child that he had met all those years ago did not hold a candle to the grace and brilliance of the woman that stood before him. Nobody else could ever compare. You didn’t have to fall for him right now, he was content with that. Hell, you didn’t even have to tolerate him. He would find pleasure in wearing you down. He was going to make you love him.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.

The adrenaline had run its way out of your system, leaving you cold and alone on a planet that was so incredibly alien to you, you weren’t sure how you’d ever be expected to adjust. Even the oxygen felt different in your lungs- the sweet, acrid smell of chemicals tinging the air around you. It was nothing like your home on Caladan. Your home was a stone castle, but this? This was a cold, black fortress.

You weren’t sure if it was meant to keep people out. . . or in.

You thought back to that fateful day with the reverend mother.

You couldn’t chew your leg off to be free of this. No, you had to lay in wait. Only then could you strike if the situation called for it.

“Striking” could wait until tomorrow though. For now you wanted to rid yourself of the anxiety. Sleep was the only cure you could think of.

“Is the room to your liking?” That husky voice of his was already grating on your nerves.

Feyd had only attempted to speak to you a few times and already you were sick and tired of his presence. He was a constant reminder that you would never know what it was like to be free. Then again, was anybody in the galaxy truly free? Feyd sure seemed to be carefree in his current position.

His tone felt off, like he was toying with you.

“I would be far more pleased about my new living quarters if you were to leave.” You said simply, pulling the slate gray blanket up and over your chin.

You weren’t sure if it was due to his ill-breeding, but he didn’t seem to care that you were in nothing but your night dress. He walked into the room in long-legged strikes, letting the door shut behind him. Never before had the two of you been alone together, not since you were children at least. If you were back in your family home you would feel safer during a moment like this.

You were in his territory now, meaning he had full reign over everything. Your father and family name couldn’t protect you on Geidi Prime.

“You’re in quite the rush to be rid of me,” He didn’t falter for even a second as he moved to sit down on the edge of the bed, leaning back against the plush mattress with a small sigh. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you didn’t like me.” He didn’t seem upset at the notion of you disliking him. In fact, there was a glint in his eyes. That same sort of silvery glint you’d seen in the reverend mother’s eyes all those years ago: a challenge.

This was nothing but a challenge to him. You were a conquest, and you detested that. Your stomach soured, your face becoming pinched as you glared at him. This was all too much too fast. You were in the comfort of your own home not even four hours ago, and now you were expected to make small talk with the source of your life-long discontent.

“And what of your concubines? Could you not pester them tonight and give me a moment's peace?”

“I dismissed them from their duties, permanently, weeks ago.” He said simply, his fingers running along the cotton of the comforter.

“What?” You’d never heard of such a thing.

“Spending time with them would be a waste.” His blue eyes flickered up to meet your eyes. “Acquiring concubines had just been a show of status.”

It took you a few moments to process what he was saying, the burning hatred you had felt just moments ago flickering out into a dull flame.

“Why would spending time with them be a waste? Am I expected to spend that much time with you?” A horror, truly. You had hoped that you’d be able to get away with spending a night or two a week with him, if only to achieve the Bene Gesserit’s goal of siring an heir.

“A waste of time. A waste of seed,” He looked at you pointedly, his lip pulling up into a smile that revealed more of his black teeth. “And both of those things are important to me.”

Your stomach hollowed out as you were once again reminded of what was expected of you. You had a week to prepare mentally for your wedding night, which you weren’t sure was enough.

“And what happened to the concubines? Are they still being housed here?”

“Why? Are you jealous?” He was smiling even wider than he was before.

A shiver ran through you as you noticed how predatory his body language was- you felt like prey under his haughty gaze. It was hard to believe that Feyd had been administered the Gom Jabbar test and passed.

This man was no human. He was an animal, that you were certain.

“Wickedly.” Your tone was flat and noncommittal. Even now, you never saw Feyd as a potential lover.

The man that was your so-called “destiny” was also your jailer.

“Well then you’ll be happy to know that they no longer live here. . . or anywhere, for that matter.” He sat up, rolling his shoulders back to stretch his broad muscles.

The blood drained from your face as you stared up at him from your spot on the bed. He must have felt the weight of your gaze and turned his head, his eyes alight with. . . pleasure. Violence was as ingrained in him as breathing was. It was his life. Standing before you was the prince of death- pale, striking and terrifying.

Animal, indeed.

I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

← previous chapter | next chapter →

please message me if you'd like to be added to my taglist!

A/N: this chapter was plot heavy, I know, however it was crucial to give you guys some background information so that I can better build tension. the beautiful dividers were created by @ kitsunecafe!

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x reader #dune part 2 #dune #austin butler #austin butler x reader #smut #dune smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #dune fanfiction #austin butler fic #feyd rautha fic

6K notes · View notes

bunnyhugs77 · 1 month ago

Text

Driven 2 U

Pairing: Rich! Reader x Mechanic! Jungkook

Word Count: 5.2k

Notes: am i back from the dead??

Content Warning: reader is a bit spoiled but she can't help it!, ft manager! yoongi, jk is so whipped, fluff, car troubles, reader is a bad driver, kissing, witty jk, some smut, pining, mentionsn of ex boyfriends, dirty hands, flowers, reader is a bit oblivious, mention of death, jungkook is delusional just like us.

Other Content: making out, late-night rendezvous, choking, semi-public sex, they're both so desperate, marking, soft dom! jk, light hair pulling, oral sex (f! receiving), cute conversations in between, praise.

The sun beamed down gently between the spaces of the clouds that littered the otherwise bright blue sky. Your Chanel sunglasses framed your face perfectly and your arm rested on the ledge of the window as you steered with the other. The air was sweeter, the flowers were in full bloom and the grass seemed greener.

The world always seemed so much more colourful when you had a hair appointment ahead of you. "I swear this is your third hair appointment this month." Yerin's voice rings through your aux, judgy as always, but you love her for it. She's been your best friend since you could walk, if anyone was gonna call you out it was gonna be her--it could only be her. You didn't listen to anyone else.

Especially not your overprotective dad, who kept nagging you to get your engine checked since that little light kept flashing at you. You didn't see the point. You thought of yourself as a pretty good driver even though all of your passengers often fled the moment you parked, swearing to never get in a car with you again, but they always came back.

"Yeah? What's your point? These roots aren't gonna touch up themselves." Your car began to jolt, "Uhh-" You trailed off, looking down to your dashboard and scanning for a source of the issue, "What?" Yerin asks and you quickly begin to lose speed. \

Turning on your four-ways you begin to pull over on the side of the road, "My engine light is flashing red and there's smoke coming out from my hood, is that bad?" Yerin doesn't say anything, there's silence in the car until she exhales, "You need to take your car to a mechanic like yesterday."

"-But I can't take it to Wheely's, that's where Jae used to take me whenever my car needed work." This time Yerin made sure you could hear her distress with an extra long sigh, "You guys broke up almost 6 months ago, I doubt they remember you. It's not like they'll refuse service because you broke up with one of their customers."

"Okay fine. You're lucky it's close, I'll just drive-" Before your hand could even make contact with the clutch, you're interrupted by a shout, "Do not even think about moving that car, Y/n. You'll completely kill the engine. Just call a tow truck. As a matter of fact, I'll call one for you."

That brings you to where you are right now. The passenger seat of a high-rimmed tow truck with a rugged driver. He seemed miserable to you at first, hooking your car up with a lot of grunts and 'tsks' slipping through clenched teeth until he really looked at you, eyes looking you up then down, taking in your very wealthy attire.

Suddenly small talk and friendly conversation were being made. With a rocky abruption, you bounced in your seat as the truck pulled into the back alley of the shop where there were lots of other damaged cars sitting around.

You thanked him and tipped him one hundred dollars. You clearly had no general comprehension of the value of a dollar, not when it comes to tipping at least.

You stood off to the side of the open garage, against the wall, waiting for the driver to come back after he'd gone inside to notify the mechanics that your car would need to be manually rolled in.

"You're still rolling in this piece of junk, Scooter?" A voice catches your attention two more men walk out of the garage alongside the driver. It seems the driver was known as Scooter around here though you doubt that's his real name.

"Hey, you better watch it, ol'Ruby here may be a bit aged but she's got character." Scooter taps the hood of the rusty pick-up truck while the two men stand in front of him with their arms crossed, one with mint hair and the other with dark locks; both of their backs facing you, yet to notice you were standing there.

"A bit aged? I'm certain Julius Cesar could identify it." The mint-haired man jokes and the brunette laughs while Scooter rolls his eyes.

Scooter waves you over, cueing the two men to look over their shoulders, a bit shocked they hadn't noticed you standing there earlier. "This is Yoongi and Jungkook, they'll be overseeing your repairs." They finally turned and Yoongi hardly got a full glance at you before his gaze was fixated on the man beside him who couldn't look away.

Unsure if your mind was playing tricks on you but you're fairly certain you'd seen them both before. Maybe not for long as you'd only ever been at the mechanics for a few short moments while Jae dropped off your car and switched into his.

Eyes wide and alert, you resembled a deer in headlights, unable to hold the soft gaze that was being sent your way. "Don't worry, you're in good hands," Yoongi reassures while Scooter gets back in his truck and pulls out.

"We need to roll it in, Jungkook and I are going to push from behind the car. Do you mind getting in the front and just steering to make sure to aim for the inside of the garage? Try to get it between the two pylons." Yoongie points into the garage where there are two markers a few meters apart.

Agreeing, you're just about to get back into the front seat when your phone rings. Both men were already in position, strong arms bracing the trunk and hunched over slightly, legs split apart, ready to bear the force back into the ground with each push, but you answered the phone instead.

Yoongi's brow arched while Jungkook just watched you.

"Y/n speaking."

It was your hairdresser, calling to see if you were still on your way as expected. Your heart sunk, you'd nearly forgotten ever since your car committed suicide and then Yerin was yelling at you.

"I'm so sorry- my car broke down and--" The boys listen intently, nosey as always. It wasn't often they had someone so interesting stroll into their quarters in the middle of the week.

"Yes, I know you're very busy and I would never want to waste your time--" You start but she interrupts you again. "No! Please don't put me on the waitlist I'll be there. I'm coming!" Hastily you get into the driver's seat and steer it in with the guys pushing behind you.

You got out nervously panicking, scrolling through all your contacts for someone to give you a ride. "Something wrong?" Jungkook couldn't help himself. He had to ask, even though he knew the answer.

"I have a hair appointment and she'd booked through for the next three months and if I'm not there in the next 15 minutes she's giving my spot away." Jungkook just stood there, while Yoongi worked on elevating the car.

Not a thought behind his eyes at your worries. You were in your own world for that to be your biggest concern but he tried to understand. "Why not get a Lyft?"

"Ew," Your hand clasps over your mouth almost immediately. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that--or to offend you-" Now Jungkook seemed taken aback, "Why would that offend me?" Your mouth gapes open like a fish before finally shutting.

"I'm just saying, the choice is yours. You can either get a Lyft or call the b-b-bus." He puts on a horrified expression as he chops up the last word to get it through to you. The result on your face was priceless.

"How about you give me a ride? I'll pay you." He stills, straightening his posture while his brows contorted, evidently confused. Even though Yoongi was on the opposite side of the car, crouched down on one knee, he too was confused. That wasn't an option. Jungkook is in full uniform, on the clock.

Does he get ahead of himself sometimes? Yes. The kid's got a big heart but he's not crazy, there's no way he would- "I'll get my keys." Yoongi lets his head fall in disappointment.

Jungkook led you around the back of the building then outside to the lot where he was parked and you turned to him blankly. "Which one is yours?" He unlocks the car as an answer, the headlights flashing at you. Quick on your heels you pivot to face him.

"This is your car?" Your acrylic points to the grey polished, sleek sports car that had the two doors opening on their own. "Not too shabby for the working class, huh?" He quips and you swat at his arm.

"I already said I was sorry about the Lyft thing, will you just let it go already? He snorts at how flustered you're getting, "Already? That was literally 60 seconds ago." You pout and get into the car, avoiding any further conversation.

His car smelled good, like really good. You found yourself taking deeper breaths than usual. It was hard to describe the smell but if you tried you would describe it as a bold yet comforting aroma, it almost reminded you of a man's cologne but mixed with the fresh scent of smoked leather. Sweet but musky.

"Leave some air for me." Jungkook jokes and your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets, he pulls out of the lot and heads for the address you gave him. "Just hurry up." You slouch back into the seat hoping the chair would consume you.

"You do realize you're basically in a Lyft right now." Jungkook points out as the ending revs and the car accelerates, cutting up traffic, one hand on the wheel and the other out the window, just like you.

You ignored how attractive his driving was and zeroed in on the topic at hand. "No, this is different. I personally hired you, for the next..." You lean forward to see the GPS and the remaining time to your location, "6 minutes, you're my personal chauffeur." He just had to laugh, all those times he saw you with Jae, he'd always wondered what you'd be like.

He never would've guessed you be so full of...you. But it would be one hell of a lie if he said it didn't add to your appeal. He was no longer in dangerous waters, no no. The moment he accepted your proposition, he'd thrown himself into shark-infested waves with a pressuring current, destined to pull him to the bottom.

Jungkook pulled up to the side of the salon and you hurried got out. "Thank you, Jungkook. I really appreciate it; oh and take care of my car!" You smile from outside the window looking in, about to leave when you reach for your phone and hand it to him.

His heart leaps from his chest. That's it? So easy? He lags for a moment, staring at your arm that was outstretched to him. "So you can tell me when my car is ready."

Oh.

"OH. Yeah. Of course." he enters in his information before handing it back to you, and the sight of your bouncy steps in your high heels and sunglasses is the last he sees of you before he makes his way back to the shop.

Walking into the garage he picks up an oil cloth that he knows he'll need soon. Startled, Jungkook's hand grabs his chest as Yoongi pops up from behind the car, the opened trunk shielding him from sight before. Grease-covered hands and stained attire are what he notices before his displeased expression.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't get in the front seat and back this car over you." He threatens, not a smile in sight except for the big one that spreads across Jungkook's apologetic face. "Because I'll work overtime for a week, unpaid."

Yoongi taps the wrench in his palm, thinking about it. "You were on the clock, Jeon. Make it two."

"Deal."

The two round the car to the open hood to get a better look at the engine. "Was it at least worth it? I know you've had your eyes on her since she first came in with that guy like two years ago."

"She's funny and she's beautiful. It's so over for me." Yoongi chuckles, reaching his hand into the hood, and starting the repairs. "Just ask her out, I don't see what the big deal is." He shrugs and Jungkook's head slowly turns, "This could be the love of my life, Yoongi. One wrong move and I lose my one chance, all my greatest dreams and aspirations-" Yoongi playfully closes the hood on Jungkooks fingers to shut him up.

"Alright Shakespeare, now help me get this engine out."

A week goes by when you are flipping through a magazine, 'What's the perfect job for you' the letters read and surprise surprise you got a model. You smiled as you placed the magazine back down on the craft services table as the photographer called you over to the center to resume the shoot.

This was for the cover of Serpahine, thankfully you weren't as nervous this time around as you were three years ago when it was your first time.

You'd been in the modelling world for a few years now, you got into it on a whim not expecting to really go anywhere with it, but the people loved you. You were only 19 when you went to your first shoot for a local retail store, fast forward six years and you'd actually driven past a billboard with your face on it this morning.

Once the shoot was done you finally reconnected with your beloved phone and saw there was a message from an unsaved number. "Your car is ready for pick up." Ah, finally.

You were sick of carpooling and hiring drivers this week, all you wanted was to finally get back behind the wheel of your own car.

The evening hadn't escaped you just yet. The sun was still out but slowly setting and casting an orange hue as you got out of the car in front of Wheeley's and dismissed them.

You could already see Jungkook from where you stood outside of the garage. Leant over the hood of another car, sleeves rolled up and tattoos on display. Just when he couldn't get any hotter.

You knocked on the wall, not sure if you could enter. He looks up with a glance before doing an immediate double take and stands to his full height. He welcomes you with a soft smile and gestures you over.

You approached him slowly, the last thing you wanted was to eat shit and land on the greasy floors in front of him.

The closer you got, the more intense his gaze became, "Wow, you look amazing." Jungkook compliments almost speechless. It was like you'd gotten even prettier from the last time he'd seen you.

Instinctively, you play with the chain of your white gold orchid necklace. It was just something you did when you were flattered or shy, in this case, a bit of both.

"Ahem." Neither of you had any idea where Yoongi had come from but he spawned and reminded Jungkook to stay focused before he vanished back into his office.

"Right. So. We assessed the damage to your engine, and the overheating engine caused the gasket to blow, causing the coolant and the oil to start mixing which is very bad." You could tell he was dumbing down the words for you and you had to stop yourself from chewing on your lower lip as he talked.

He's so hot when he talks about cars and stuff. "Are you following?" What? You thought you were doing such a good job of listening. He continued to explain what had been done and import fees and blah blah blah.

You weren't listening to a damn thing he was saying and Jungkook could tell. If he was being honest, he was hardly listening to himself, brain so warped on the fact that this was probably the last time he'd see you for a long time.

He walked you over to the register, "With the coverage you get from guardian auto insurance it reduces your initial price from 2,785.61 to 875.50." You blinked, guardian auto insurance. You had no memory of buying that, which is why you assumed your dad did and thank god for that.

Not that you couldn't afford the initial price but who would want to spend money on boring car stuff when they could go shopping? You paid and then remembered something.

"Here's your tip, for the Lyft." You smile handing him a hundred-dollar bill and he just smiles, not reaching for the money. "Aren't you gonna take it?" He shakes his head. "The car did all the work, all I did was steer. Besides, if I were you, I'd consider putting my money towards a better car."

Your hand falters, and you pout. "What's wrong with my Magma GRT?"

"I hate to say it, but this is the worst car money can buy. I see about three of these every week. For starters, the engineering of it is shit, it makes our job ten times harder. Not to mention it was wired by preschoolers, the batteries are cheap and I can guarantee you, your transmission is gonna blow sometime in the next year."

You stood there, jaw dropped.

"That's not true." You argue, feeling defensive over your sweet baby.

Jungkook guides you over to the hood of the car he had just been working on. "I'll take everything back if you can show me where the engine is."

You stood there for a solid minute, really giving it hard thought. "It's right here." You hold up the middle finger in front of his face before walking away and he laughs taking long strides to catch up to your furious pace.

"Where is my car, anyway?" Jungkook leads you around the back where the completed cars sit with a ticket on the windshield. He watched you excitedly hop into the driver's seat and run your hands over the wheel, then touching the fuzzy orchids that hung from your mirror.

You started it up and she sounded better than ever. You got out and fought the urge to do a little dance but you lost. It was cute, adorable really. "Thank you!" Without even thinking you placed a quick peck on his cheek before you returned to your car, honking at him twice before you sped off.

His fingers lightly grazed the cheek your lips had just met. His vision started to blur, he was about to faint. And then the doom settled in his stomach, you were gone.

"Let's take 5 everyone. Y/n, a minute." The head photographer calls you over. "What's going on? You seem out of it, and you can't be out of it. Not until this shoot is done, at least. I've got bills to pay too."

It's been a few weeks since you'd gotten your car fixed but now everything else felt broken. Suddenly a new outfit didn't put a smile on your face, and the buzz you got from a night out at the bar didn't compare to the flames you felt with the few moments you had with that pretty mechanic.

You shake away the thoughts and apologize, reassuring him that you'd get your head back in the game.

It's been a month.

He hasn't texted you, which isn't crazy considering you gave him your number for repair purposes only. Though it did make you sad to know he ignored the resource he had to contact you. Then again the phone did work both ways.

You were spiralling, just a tad.

Besides, you didn't want to text him, you needed to see him, but you can't just show up to a mechanic for no reason...

You paced around your room until your gaze landed on your car keys.

You shake your head.

No.

That's crazy.

You grab the keys anyway.

After a quick Google search, you concluded that this evening you would be making an impromptu trip to the gas station. Your tank holds about 30 liters so you pumped it with 35.

Once you got back in the car, just as Google said, your check engine light was on. At least this time it wasn't red.

"Oh no, looks like I've gotta get a check-up."

You pulled onto the lot with a mischievous grin, you weren't sure how you were going to pull this off but you had to.

Parking outside the open garage, you locked the car before walking in, looking around for any signs of anyone but it was empty--

"Back so soon?" You turn, face to face with the same face you'd been wanting to see for weeks. "Well yeah, I-"

The loud engine of that familiar tow truck came roaring up the driveway. A loud horn caught your attention. "Come on Jeon, roadside call ain't gonna solve itself!" Scooter shouts and Jungkook visibly gulps, looking between the two of you with a panicked gaze.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. Yoongi is in his office, he can help you."

Your shoulders slumped and your pout was prominent. Let this be the first and last time you ever stuck your neck out for a man.

A few days had passed when Jungkook sent you the invoice for your repairs. Your eyes analyzed the familiar statement of reduction showing that Guardian Auto Insurance saved you another 600 dollars.

You sighed.

You completed the transaction online and made sure to avoid him at all costs when you picked up your car. Unable to face him after he had blown you off. Even though you know it wasn't intentional, it was still humiliating.

The following weeks may not have been anything special for you but were most certainly eventful for Yerin. "I warned you not to dance on top of that bar." You joke as you walk Yerin out of the emergency room with a slight hangover while she has a cast on her left arm.

After driving her back to her place, not a silent ride at that, even on three different pain killers she was still whining about this curb and that curb, 'watch out for that pedestrian' she would yell as if you didn't have eyes.

"How am I supposed to get to work tomorrow." She sulks, resting her cast on a nearby couch cushion. "I can take you." You offer and she glares, "I guess I wasn't clear. I need to make it in one piece." You rolled your eyes.

"I'll just take my car, driving with one hand can't be that hard." She shrugs.

"It's not, but you're not left-handed. It's a bad idea." You warn but she is more stubborn than you are.

It was only around 10 am the following morning when you received a message from Yerin. She attached an image of her car, it looked normal aside from the missing side mirror.

Oh boy.

'I told you so.' You send her and she replies with a middle finger.

'Now it's your turn to go to Wheeley's and make sure to use your guardian auto insurance. Saves a ton.'

She gives you a thumbs up.

Talking about that shop made your mind wander. You wonder how Jungkook was doing. It's been a while since you last saw him. Sometimes you regret not sticking around for him to come back, or even avoiding him to pick up your car.

But maybe this was for the best.

Besides, you were just a customer. One of many. You're sure he's forgotten all about you.

Your phone buzzes once, then twice, pulling you out of the realm of peace and tranquillity that your nap had rolled you into. You'd fallen asleep on the couch while reruns of your favourite movie passed by on your screen. "Hello?"

"Guardian Auto Insurance my ass. I was charged $450. I asked Yoongi to double check and he said apparently that doesn't even exist." Slowly sitting up, you try to make sense of it.

How's that possible? If it doesn't exist then who made it up?-

Oh shit.

You quickly finish the call with Yerin, and check the time. The shop would close in about an hour, you had little time to get ready before you made your way there.

Pulling into the driveway so late at night made your headlights seem like spotlights, bouncing off every reflective surface in sight. Catching Jungkook's attention as he wasn't expecting anyone this late at night.

In his fitted jumpsuit, he watched the car pull up closer to the garage, shining the bright light in his face until the engine was shut off. He'd seen this car hundreds of times. He couldn't get his hopes up, but the second your red bottoms hit the concrete his heart was pounding.

You were headed right towards him.

You looked angry- no, upset, no-

"When were you gonna tell me that there's really no Guardian Auto Insurance and that you've been covering 80% of my costs out of your own pocket?" You definitely sounded angry but your gaze seemed... soft.

You stopped right in front of him, face to face. Your breathing was heavy and your brows furrowed as your eyes danced between both of his deep brown, apologetic ones. "I-"

"Just shut up." Grabbing a gentle hold of his cheeks in your hands, you pulled his lips down to meet yours. It took Jungkook a second to process what was going on but once his brain caught up, so did his hands.

He held you securely at the waist, tugging you into him until your front was against his and he worked his tongue with yours. Your heads tilted slightly to deepen the kiss.

You always knew he'd be a great kisser, but this was taking your breath away. Literally. You pulled away from him, lungs reaching for a much-needed dose of oxygen while Jungkook did the same. His gaze was much darker.

"You and this stupid uniform. I want to finally see what's underneath-" Reaching for his buttons, you're able to get the first four undone with a few stray kisses to his neck that send Jungkook absolutely reeling. A soft moan escapes him before he pulls back.

"Wait. Wait, I have something for you." He disappears into one of the offices before coming back with a bouquet of orchids. Your gasp is genuine.

"Yoongi said a friend of yours was in the shop earlier and I'd already been thinking about you non-stop so I just took it as a sign to reach out. I was actually going to bring these to you later once the shop closed. I noticed you had orchids on your necklace and in your car so I just thought you'd like them." You give them a sniff. "I love them. They were actually my mom's favourite flower before she passed."

He frowns, "I'm sorry to hear that," you give him a sad smile, "Thank you, it means a lot. Really. But we can talk about that later," You place the flowers behind you on the trunk of the car. Jungkook grins.

"You're very direct aren't you." You shrug. "You'll get used to it."

He walks up to you, looking down at you with the six inches his head carried over yours. "Oh, will I?" You nod with unwavering confidence. "Unless you can't handle it-" A big, gentle hand is placed around your neck, no pressure applied until he speaks, "I'm not the one who needs to be worried about."

With that said he slowly sinks himself to his knees, big hands reaching under your ruffled skirt, taking two handfuls of your ass and giving it a firm squeeze. You gasp as you feel him slowly drag a finger along the soaked fabric of your panties.

"Please, Jungkook." The harmonious sound of you begging rattled him to his core. With no self-restraint, he would do anything you asked. "Don't worry princess, I've got you. Gonna take good care of you." he pulls down the only thing keeping him from your soaked cunt and a low growl rumbles in his chest at the sight.

He helps you to step out of your panties with your heels still on, he couldn't let your bare feet touch the floors. You open your hand for the garment but you roll your eyes at the sight of him pocketing them in his uniform. You already know you'll never see them again and you accept it.

He has you bunch up your skirt around your waist for better sight. Smoothly he places one leg over his shoulder while your body rests against the trunk of the car. The grip he holds on your left thigh is tight enough to make your brain spin and surely marks will follow.

"See. I always knew I'd have you on your knees for me one d-AY. Oh fuck!" Jungkook can't be bothered to bark back at you not when he has an insatiable appetite and a full meal right in front of him.

His jaw worked itself as he lapped up at your center. Tongue long and warm, licking every square inch of you until you couldn't take it, hands reaching desperately for his hair and he groaned.

Once he finally had you where he wanted you, reduced to nothing but begs and whimpers, he allowed his tongue to flick over your clit repeatedly, until he felt half of your body weight fall onto his right shoulder for a moment.

You could hardly even keep yourself up. He was going to make sure you remembered this. "Oh shit! P-please Jungkook. M'So close." He groans, his right hand pressing down on the solid bulge in his pants for a little relief.

Your slick was running down his chin, some even down the sides of his neck as he worked you with his tongue. Writhing nonstop, though this wouldn't be an issue if he had a better environment. He'd have you pinned and unable to run from him.

To finish you off he let his teeth graze so lightly over your clit, you almost wouldn't feel it had he not heightened your senses to such an extreme with his intricate pussy eating.

You came with his name falling off your lips.

Your face turns beet red as he tells you to look down at the mess you made on the ground below you. "What were you saying earlier? Something about me being on my knees for you-"

"Just fuck me already." Jungkook stands back up to his full height, clicking his tongue with tsk' sounds. "I pay for your repairs, I buy you flowers, I make you cum and this is how you talk to me? Where are your manners." Jungkook adjusts your skirt so it's back in place and he picks you up to sit on the trunk.

"Besides. I'm not fucking you in here. I wanna take you out first." You smile at that, "Finally, a smile." He remarks, and your body limps forward naturally, your arms wrapping around his neck while your head settles in the crook of his neck and your eyes flutter shut. You ignore his previous statement until he whispers in your ears. "You do realize the garage was open this whole time, and anyone who drove by got a front-row show?" Your eyes shoot open.

#bts #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #btssmuts #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fic recs #dom jungkook #jeon jungkook #btsscenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader

1K notes · View notes

eraenaa · 3 months ago

Text

Prince's Whore

Aemond Targaryen x Celtigar Reader

Synopsis: What proceeded as Prince Aemond had made you his whore.

Warnings: Dub-Con, Harsher Aemond, Mature, Maltreatment, 18+, Fingering, P in V Sex, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 2,789

Prequel: Virginal Whore

“Have you now learned your lesson?” The prince asked, smirking as he saw your hopeless eyes and your bounded arms and legs. It was a last resort he had come to; the past moon, all you did was try to escape him, and Aemond could not stand for anyone getting in between him and what was his. You whimpered as you felt his touch on your bare waist. He had bound your hands with a silk cloth that was tied to the bed frame, and no amount of tugging or thrashing could free you from the shackles of the prince.

You looked quite ravishing even in your frantic and desperate state— perhaps even more so, the prince thought. Your face was scarlet as pearl tears ran down your cheeks, lips swollen and crying out for release, your chest heaving as you tried to be freed. Aemond could no longer control the surge of unbridled desire coursing through him; it was harder to reign in his depravity when he knew you were his. “Please, please, I beg you, my prince— release me— kill me! Whatever it is… just let me go,” You cried as your dignity could no longer stomach being the prince’s whore.

Aemond hummed, running his calloused hands along your smooth, supple body, grasping your flesh that was riddled with his marks. “And why should I do that, my lady? Enough with the act… do not pretend you do not enjoy your station here. Dotted and served upon each day and pleasured by me each night. Hundreds of ladies would kill for such a station as yours,” Aemond hummed, ignoring your cries and holding down your body as he placed a kiss on your navel and upwards towards your stomach. Inhaling deeply your scent that was mingled with his. “And why should I let you go? You’re rightfully and completely mine.” Aemond stated and took your heaving tit into his mouth, your whimpers growing louder as the taut bud was raw with attention from him each and every single night.

You feel more tears stream from your eyes as your body is quick to succumb to pleasure even if your mind tries to resist it. “See how you respond to my touch… I would wager your cunt is aching for my attention, is it not, my lady?’’ The prince hummed and used his pointed nose to trace the apex of your neck, lips grazing your skin, and left a trail of blazing heat. You cried louder but your voice was useless as no one would dare to come to your aid. You feel the prince’s hand trail your thigh, inching dangerously close to your aching core that wept and longed for his touch— going against sensibilities as your cunt was as depraved as the prince’s cock. “Stop— please, I beg you, my prince,” You cried as you thrashed in his hold. Your legs were free from any restraints, and you tried to kick away the lithe yet solid figure of the prince regent, but he was unmovable.

“Beg louder, my lady; it only makes me want to ravish you more,” He smirked against your lips. Enjoying the further horror in your eyes as you realize that your desperate state was serving as an amusement for the cruel prince. Aemond was playing with you, and never had he found such pleasure in a toy before. You were the prince’s plaything— his doll— his whore. You abruptly stopped your thrashing movements and ceased the desperate pleas leaving your lips, hoping that your silence and stillness would not entice the prince, but it was moot. Whatever it is you do, the prince could not cease himself from needing you.

Aemond smirked as you quietly stared up at him wide-eyed. He hummed as his hand cupped your cunt, your wetness coating his fingers and palm. “See, you want me as well, my lady. Stop denying it— do you not find it exhausting as you constantly deprive yourself of the pleasure of being completely mine?” He hummed as he circled your sore nubbin. You bit your lip as you were determined not to give him any indication of satisfaction in you, but it was useless as the sound of your arousal echoed through the chambers. “Submit to me— admit that you are mine, and both of us could cease this tiring game,” Aemond sighed as he slipped a finger into your core, your cunt readily clenching around the digit.

He waited on bated breath as he memorized each movement and reluctant sound that left your plush lips. Continuing to deny yourself pleasure. In a way, it was frustrating for the prince, even if he did find amusement in your resistance. All he wanted was for you to submit— to admit that each part of you belonged to him. Your back arched as your fingers clasped tightly around the cloth that bound them, “Do you wish to come, my lady?” He taunted as he felt your cunt spasming around his fingers. You cried in pleasure but made no reply. “If you wish for release, you know what you must do.” Aemond slowed his pleasurable actions as he saw your eyes roll back in utter satisfaction that you were stubborn enough to deny.

Aemond used his other hand to grasp your tit, pinching the pebbled flesh, and felt you squirm in search of release. “Say that you are mine, and all that you want shall be yours, my lady.” Aemond hummed as he savored the feel of your skin. You let out a frustrated cry and pulled at your restraints. A moment passed and you still did not give a response. Prince Aemond sighed, removing his fingers from your cunt, and took off his hold on your tit. You whimpered at the loss of sensation of his calloused and cruel touch. “Very well then,” he gritted as his cock painfully throbbed in his trousers. He stood and moved to exit the chambers, denying the both of you release.

As you watched the departing figure of the prince, your mind admitted defeat and forged any ounce of self-respect and dignity. “I… I’m yours!” You cried in indignation. The prince halted at his steps as he heard the words perfectly clear but still taunted you and made you repeat your submission to him. “I’m yours, my prince. I’m yours to do with as you please,” Your pride stung as the words left your lips, but nothing could compare to the ache in your cunt. “Yes, you are,” Aemond smirked and slowly made his way back to you to relieve you of your desperation.

You stared upon the ceiling as the prince’s face was burrowed in your neck. Prince Aemond was sleeping soundly, his arms around your frame and caging you in—determined not to let you go, not even in sleep. You feel yourself recoil upon your decision— your submission in exchange for fleeting moments of pleasure. It was not as if you had much of a choice. You could not live freely nor die with dignity— you had not a choice but to succumb to the prince and admit your station as his whore, and perhaps, in time, you could earn a sliver of his trust and when the time comes, flee and live all of this behind.

You barely slept that night, and when the prince woke, he was surprised to see that you were still deep in slumber. Usually, you would be the first to wake. Aemond brushed away a lock of your hair and placed tender and soft kisses upon your bare shoulder. His touch was feather light as he had no wish to wake you.

The prince offered you much-needed respite, and when you woke, it was midday. A servant glowering down at you in unmasked animosity as she held up your silk robe given to you by the prince. You stayed silent as it was growing harder to ignore the distaste held against by those employed by the prince. “Your bath is ready, m’lady,” she basically spat, and you followed her to the wet room. You shivered as the water was not at all warm, but you bit back your tongue as you did not wish to complain and give them further ammunition to dislike you. You had heard them gossiping the other day, complaining as to why they must serve you as well when you were merely the prince’s whore. You had wished to confront them— implore them to believe that you found no joy in your station and, in truth, you would rather be a scullery maid or a kitchen wench rather than be tasked to warm the prince’s bed.

You took in a deep breath as they poured piercing cold water atop your head and roughly cleansed you. They were disregarding any pain or soreness that you harbored, not at all minding the bruises left by the prince as he had his way with you. Your teeth chattered, and you felt tears prickling your eyes, yet you still bore it all. You took in a deep breath as they poured water onto you once more, the cold water making it harder for you to breathe; you had barely recovered nor took another breath as they did the action once more, and again for a third time. You felt like drowning as the two servants were relentless in pouring water atop your head, disguising their hostility towards you in the act of cleansing.

You feel your lungs tighten and your vision further blurry as you wave your hand for them to hinder their actions, but they ignore you. “Enough!” The prince roared, none of you aware that he was standing by the doorframe of the wet room, observing as they bathed you. “Can you not see your lady cannot breathe!” He roared as he noticed the scarlet on your chest and face as a consequence of your lack of air. He stood by the tub you sat upon in an instant, his angered face severing as he realized they bathed you with icy water that did nothing to calm your nerves or the ache in your body. You sat quietly with your head downturned towards the water as Prince Aemond seethed at the servants for their treatment of you. You did not know if you should hinder him from scolding the maids or thank him for defending you as you were silently being mistreated by the help.

Aemond furiously brushed away the maids and knelt by the tub you sat upon, your frame shivering and your gaze cast downwards. “How long?” He gritted as he cupped your cheek, feeling the coldness of your skin. He moved to retrieve your robe, assisted you to stand, and guided you to the warmth of the hearth. “How long?” He asked once more, and you knitted your brows. “How long what, my prince?” You feigned cluelessness. “Do not act simple with me, my lady. How long have they been mistreating you?” You bit your tongue at the irony the prince presented. Accusing his help of maltreatment when he had kept you in his room and presence against your will.

“They do no such thing—they… they do their duties,” you say, fearing that if you told the whole truth, the prince would act rashly and lead the servants to resent you further. “Do not lie; that is unbecoming of a lady,” Aemond gritted, and you shook your head. “I am no lady now… I am merely your whore. And they question as to why must they tend to the needs of a girl who is a servant as well.” You gritted, a surge of bravery coursing through your veins as the words rolled effortlessly off your tongue.

Aemond gritted his jaw as your eyes urged him for an explanation that he had none. “You are a highborn lady— how dare you even complain when I have made your stay here comfortable? What ingrate you are!” Aemond spat, and you shook your head, “I am your prisoner, my prince,” You said quietly. Your breath hitched as the prince grabbed your face in his rough hand and made you turn to him. “Prisoner or not, you are still a lady— a lady who has the blood of Old Valyria running through her veins. Mere servants will not question my orders— if I tell them to tend and serve you, they will do so with no complaints.” You held back your tongue, instead focusing on warming yourself further.

You peeked through your lashes and saw as the prince observed you. You tried to ignore his presence, but it was a task that was impossible. You chewed on your lips and sighed, “I… I thank you for your concern, but it has no place to be bestowed on a person in my station.” You muttered, still having an announce of cordiality as the prince did show an ounce of kindness even though he took advantage of his power. “You are still a lady— my actions are not brought out of kindness but rather the truth of your station.” You frowned, still disagreeing. He kept on insisting that you were still a lady, but that title was stripped from you the moment the prince burrowed himself in your cunt.

You stayed silent and returned to look upon the fire. The prince sighed and stood, moving to return to his duties for the day. “Could I make a request?” You suddenly asked before he could leave. Aemond paused by the door. “Could I at least right to my father? To inform him that I am live— it need not say where I am and what I had become… but I just want him to know that I still live.” You pleaded, widening your eyes in a plea. The prince did not speak. “Very well. I will write and send the letter myself— but you have my word; your father will know that you still live.”

You breathed heavily as your hips rolled against the prince. You atop of him with his cock buried deep inside your cunny as you both sought out pleasure. Aemond smirked as you tilted your head back, your body rocking against his and your cunt clenching tightly as a telltale sign that you were about to come. He reached to take hold of your tits, squeezing the soft flesh tightly, and the harshness only brought you further pleasure.

“See how well you take me, my lady? Look at how pleased you are… why have you been so stubborn when you know that this is your rightful place? With my cock deep inside your cunt?” Aemond breathed out; his own climax was fast coming. You only replied with a moan, taking hold of his hands that held your bosom to implore him to keep his hold there. Aemond thrusted against you desperately, “Who do you belong to?” Aemond questioned, only one answer he would accept. You could not comprehend his words, too blinded by the way the prince’s cock was hitting the spot in your cunt that made you lose all your sensibilities. “Who. Do. You. Belong. To?” Aemond gritted, and each word ended with a deep thrust that finally made you hear his question.

You leaned forward with a desperate cry, “Y… yours. I’m yours, my prince.” Aemond moved his hands to cup your behind and aid your frenzied movements. “Good,” he muttered before kissing your lips as you and him found release. As the haze of your brazen fucking had settled, the prince rested in your arms, him playing with your fingers as you two began to rest for the night.

“Had you written to my father?” You asked delicately, not wanting to agitate or anger the prince. Aemond hummed, placing soft kisses on your fingertips. “I have.” He confirmed. “May I ask what you had written?” You questioned. Aemond breathed in deeply your scent before he spoke. “I had told him you are alive… that you are still here in Westeros… and you had denounced your allegiance towards my half-sister.” Your eyes widened, not expecting the prince to tell your father such things. “What?” You asked in dread.

Prince Aemond’s touch moved from your fingers to your face, cupping your heated cheeks. “And I informed him of your station here as well.” You felt like you could faint, the color in your face draining except the flush on your cheeks. “You told him I was your whore?” You questioned meekly. Aemond smirked, his face threading closer to yours. “I told him you were mine.” You could not respond because the prince had claimed your lips as he had claimed each inch of you.

Tag List: peachysunrize gelacat0413 maidmerrymint aemondwhoresworld fireydragonblood anukulee spacexdrago amanda08319 seamaiden aylasrants blackswxnn dracaryxzs trashpackbitch tomie-it-girl mamawiggers1980 chaosluvr deine-schatz

1K notes · View notes

coryosbaby · 1 year ago

Note

we (8 billion people) are begging for dom fem reader and coryo dynamic. Why she always gotta be sub like my dom ass would slap the shit out of him ong

ʙᴇɢɢɪɴ’ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴋɴᴇᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴘᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀ !

Synopsis: Coriolanus will do anything to get to the top, right?

Content warning . power dynamics, loss of virginity, face riding, multiple orgasms, marking, sub!pussydrunk! Coryo, dom! Reader that’s a lil fucked up

notes: me when coryo has hair real . This kinda sucks I’m sorry

When you see Coriolanus Snow, you see a desperate man.

A boy, actually. You see a boy. A desperate, handsome, power hungry boy. You can see it in the way he towers over his peers in a sort of fake dominance, the fauxness behind his sugary sweet words directed to anything or anyone in a higher position— some even directed towards you, when that blush isn’t flushing his cheeks with a feral intensity.

As the daughter of Dr. Gaul, it’s quite easy for you to advance some of your friends in their studies. You are not only her daughter, but in a position of power yourself. You know people— and Coriolanus knows that. You aren’t dumb. You can tell by his eyes, the empty, icy blue orbs not quite telling the truth.

Coriolanus, in a way, is just like you.

Maybe that’s what intrigues you so much about him. Besides that pretty smile, or those golden curls or those muscles that make you drool, you admire his determination. You know about his poorness (not all know, but some do, as Dean Casca Highbottom once quoted to him), and you know one will go far to satiate their own greed.

It’s just a matter of how far.

—

Coriolanus walks into your lab crying, one day.

Not obviously. It’s subtle, as you demand he sit down and take off his shirt so you can stitch up his wounds. Your hands graze it softly, and he winces.

“Does it hurt?” You ask him, even though you already know the answer.

He lets out a shaky breath, his hands clenching at the seat.

“Yes.”

An honest answer. He must trust you.

You hum, beginning to work on his wound with taught precision. Looking at him now, his jaw is clenching tightly and the boy is shaking so much you fear he might break.

“I killed someone.”

He states it in a remorseful tone, the tone of someone weak and pathetic.

“Someone in the games, if I’m correct?”

He turns to look at you in surprise, as if you didn’t have access to your mother’s decision of allowing him to walk in there and save his friend Sejanus. He says nothing, then. He sniffles, and cries silently.

“You know,” you state, beginning to stitch him. “I’ve killed someone too. Someone I needed to kill.” You smile, remembering the one time a student who was threatening to take your place mysteriously fell into the pit of snakes. “It was necessary.”

Coriolanus tries to stay nonchalant, but you can see the way his shoulders tense. He doesn’t say a word, so you continue.

“Was it necessary to kill the person you killed?”

He looks down at his hands. Caked with blood, knuckles drawn taught. You want to bite them.

“No,” Coriolanus answers slowly. “No, it wasn’t.”

Maybe there’s more darkness to the boy than you originally thought.

You speak to him in a much lower tone now.

“Maybe it was. You just don’t know it.” And then, “There are a lot of things certain people can do to get to the top, Coriolanus.”

Your insinuation doesn’t go unnoticed. He moves his head to look at you.

“And what would that be?”

Typical. Someone so power hungry that his head turns at the mere mention of an opportunity. You’ve got him right where you want him.

You finish up his stitches. You move around to his front, your short red skirt all of a sudden incredibly suffocating as he looks up at you with something utterly pathetic in his gaze.

“How far are you willing to go, Coriolanus?”

And that’s when, a few moments later, you get your wish: that skirt, oh so suffocating, is strewn on the floor, Coriolanus’ big hands massaging the skin of your thighs as you straddle him. Your lips press against his in a hot and heavy kiss, your tongue massaging his lips with fervor. He may be doing this for advancement, but the blonde wants you nonetheless. You can see in the way his hips grind up, the way he lets out desperate whines as you lick up his tears with your tongue. Pulling away from him, your cunt clenches when he tries to push your body down onto his crotch.

“No, Coryo,” you demand, though your voice is desperate. “I want you on the floor, okay? You’re going to taste me first.”

He hesitates, his eyes darting to your lacey panties and then to the colorful tiles.

“… the floor?”

He seems nervous, jittery. It’s not as if he’s afraid of getting dirty, or something.

No, this is something else. In the way he nervously twiddles his fingers, the way his bottom lip catches in between his teeth. It’s not as if he wants to stop— it’s more so that he’s inexperienced.

And then it hits you.

Coriolanus snow is a virgin. This big handsome boy, beautiful and delicious, has never done had sex before. He’s never felt the touch of a woman, never eaten pussy or got his dick sucked.

And for some reason, that makes you want him more.

“Oh,” you coo to him, soft. “Coryo, you’ve never done this before, have you?”

His face turns dusty pink, but he tries to deny, deny, deny.

“What? No! Of course I’m not. I’m just..” he looks at the floor, his lie clear on his face. “The tiles are cold. Dirty.”

“You’re caked with blood and sweat, sweet boy. I’m sure the tiles will be fine.”

He looks away from you, his lips drawn up into a pout.

“I’m not a virgin.” He states, merely to himself. You raise a brow, an amused smile playing on your lips as you move farther away from him.

“Then why don’t you come and eat my pussy, baby?”

His cock strains against his zipper, and you swear you can see it twitch from where you’re standing. He gulps, and with a submission you would’ve never expected, the boy drops to his knees on the tile and makes his way towards you. His shirt, unbuttoned, shows the pretty lines of his chest and his rippling back muscles, and when he gets to you, he stops at the front of your still standing knees. Satisfaction wades through you when his hands move up to the waistband of your underwear and yanks them down with shaking hands. Your smell hits his nose, makes his head tilt back as he lets out a throaty sound in the back of his throat. His tongue laves over the skin of your inner thigh, his hands going around the back of one of your knees to pull you close. You spread your legs to allow him access, your pussy lips drenched with arousal as his breath laves over you.

“Go on, Coryo,” you urge. “You want me to put a good word to my colleagues, yeah? So you better do a good job.”

He moans, his tongue finally slipping in between your folds as he tastes you. He’s messy, sloppy, and it’s good but it’s not good enough.

“God. I thought you were experienced? Huh, Coryo? Don’t you wanna make me feel good? Are you even fucking trying?”

He pulls away from you, shame in his eyes as you scold him. He pleads, his lip wobbling, his arms holding onto your legs.

“Please, I’m sorry. ‘M so sorry. Teach me, please…”

He tries to press a kiss to your cunt, but you kick him away with your foot. He falls to the ground, helpless.

“Lay down—I don’t care if it hurts your back. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

He does as he’s told, all sweet and sweaty and bloody. His back hits the tile, injured but he ignores it when he watches you tower over him. You move down, pressing your knees on either side of his head. He grabs your thighs to place his mouth back on you, but you grab his golden curls in your hands and yank him back. He groans in pain, his feet kicking in a sort of pleasured resistance.

“You use your mouth when I tell you to, coryo,” you scold, watching the way his eyes flutter and only focus on your dripping pussy. “You do what I say. If I guide your head, or press myself down at a certain spot, you go along with it. Do you understand me?”

He nods, desperate to get his mouth on you, his cock thrusting into the open air.

“Good. Now, go slower. Stick out your tongue.. wider… therrre you go, baby.” His eyes focus on that one spot, his tongue hovering right over your clit. He must have read up on this a time or two. You press him closer, shoving his face into your heat as his tongue hits the swollen bud. “You see that? That’s my clit. Yeahh, stick your tongue right there…”

He groans, the taste of your sweet slick making his eyes roll back. His palms splay across your ass, digging crescent moons into the skin. You move your hips in a circular motion, giving Coryo the impression to move his tongue that way. He’s a smart boy, so he knows exactly what you’re communicating to him. His tongue moves in slow, languid circles, your slick already dripping down his chin. You can’t help but give into the pleasure he’s giving you for a moment, riding his face like your life depends on it before slowing down and stopping.

“Good, coryo. You’re being such a good boy. But you need to move your tongue down. You don’t want to play with my clit too much, because I’ll cum quick if you do.”

He makes a noise of understanding, moving his tongue down to your hole. It’s much funner this way, he thinks. The tip of his tongue can gather up the awaiting slick that’s spilling out of you, it makes your taste all the more prominent. You give him some room to experiment now, letting him move his tongue in between your clit and your hole. He catches on, and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was experienced now— he’s a natural learner. Your hips grind down into him, and when he tongues your hole you use his strong nose to grind lazily against. Coryo can only breathe in your slick, his brain becoming fuzzy from his lack of air. But it’s okay. It’s okay because he’s doing good.

You can feel yourself getting close, the languid strokes of his tongue making your legs shake. You hump against his mouth, your head thrown back.

“Gonna cum,” you say to him. “Gonna cum on this slut mouth.”

He groans, his jaw working even harder now. He focuses on your clit more, save for the few times that he slurps up the slick from your hole. Your orgasm is fast approaching, your body drawing up tight.

And finally, you’re cumming on his mouth, moans spilling from your lips and Coryo’s. He’s desperate to catch all of your cum onto his awaiting tongue, his legs still moving around as he consumes you like a man starved. Your eyes roll back and you grind your hips against him as you come down from your high. Coryo pulls away once he’s satiated, looking up at you with his chin coated in slick.

You sigh, pulling your hips back to give him some air. You move your body off of him, going to your knees to watch his pussy drunk face still follow your cunt as you move. You want to return the favor, now. It’s only fair.

But looking down, you notice a wet spot soaking through Coryo’s pants.

He lifts himself up on his elbows, looking from his crotch to you. He flushes, apologies spewing from his wet lips, shaking his head.

“I tried not to. I really, really did. ‘M so sorry.”

He tries to reach out to touch you, but you just move away and down to his crotch. You unbutton his jeans, and he lets you. You look down at his red briefs, watching the white stain peeking through.

“Oh, baby. You just couldn’t help, it could you?”

You mock him, your hand palming his shaft. He lets out a whimper, his head falling back against the tile. He knows it��s too much, but he isn’t stopping you. You pull his briefs down, and boy is he big. Thick and long, all pretty and red with cum dripping down to his balls. Your mouth waters, but you figure that can wait another day. His seed can be used for other things.

You flutter your lashes at him, your hand wrapping around his shaft, jerking him to hardness again. He’s got this look, contorted and pained and pleasured at the same time. You straddle his meaty thighs, your cunt lips brushing over his cockhead, and he gasps.

“W-Wait—“ he starts, choked. “It’s.. ‘S too much—“

“Then why are you hard again?” You tilt your head at him, your movements paused because he didnt give you full permission. “Don’t you want my warm, tight pussy? Don’t you want to make it to the top?”

And that gets him going, his arousal for you and power and riches. He nods, eyes rolling back as you sink down on him. The cum from his last orgasm coats your walls and makes it easier to fill yourself up, warm white streaks dripping down his cock again.

“Oh.. oh my god,” his mouth drops open, and you’ve never heard a boy so vocal. “Please… I want it, I want it!”

You know what he’s asking for. Your stilled hips are non moving, letting him stretch you and sit heavy inside your cunt. You smile, moving your hips just a bit, letting him feel your gummy walls sucking him in. His mouth is in the shape of an o, his hair messy and disoriented. He tries to grab your tits, your hips, and with a surprising force your palm strikes his cheek haughtily. He cries out, his thighs shaking, his hips thrusting up.

“No touching,” you demand. “You don’t get to do that. Give me your hands.”

He lets you take them, and you push them far over his head as you begin to work your hips harder, faster. His balls make plop plop plop-ing noises as they hit your ass, quivering and begging for you to let them empty inside you. You move down to his neck, leaving purpleish bruises over his skin, marking him as yours. You let go of his hands so you can rest your hands on his torso, and his hands move up. Not necessarily to touch, but to hover over your tits bouncing through your tight fitted shirt. You give him permission, just a moment, to squeeze the soft skin in his hands, give them a teasing, bold little slap. You breathe shakily, his cock filling you up in ways no other has. You watch as Coryo’s head tilts back, and you know he’s close.

“Gonna cum?” You taunt, your nails scraping against his chest. He groans, nodding. “Gonna fill up my tight little pussy? Cmon, give it to me, I know you want to.”

And when he spills into you, rope after rope of warm, hot cum filling you to the brim, you let out a cry. His fingers find your clit— he’s thought this through, hasn’t he? He rubs you until you’re seeing stars and clenching around his overstimulated cock with a loud sob. He moves up to kiss you hot on the mouth.

“Did I do good?” He asks.

You smile, your hand threading your hands through his hair as you both relax against each other.

“You did very good, Coryo. I’m so proud of you.”

He breathes out a chuckle, shoving his face into your neck. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and he winces. His wound has been withstanding a lot of pressure.

“You probably want to put some ice on that.” You suggest to him. He shrugs.

“The tile was cold enough.”

#coriolanus snow #Coriolanus snow x reader #Coriolanus snow x fem! reader #Coriolanus snow smut #sub! Coriolanus snow #Coriolanus snow fanfic #Tom blyth #tbosas #the ballad of songs and snakes #the ballad of songs and snakes fanfic #thg #thg fanfic #the hunger games #hunger games #hunger games fanfic #Coriolanus snow tbosas

7K notes · View notes

whokilledsamara · 10 days ago

Note

hii!! I saw you write for homicipher so i was wondering if you could write some dark/yandere sfw & nsfw headcanons for mr scarletella 🥹 thank you so much & take ur time!!

MR. SCARLETELLA HC {N/SFW}

a Mr. Scarletella {homicipher} x reader n/sfw hc list.

{thank you for your support and nice words! :3}

warnings! : stalking, non-con, dub-con, hardcore, marking, slight gore, rough sex, violence, rough fingering, biting, cunnilingus, blowjobs, smut, murder mention, somno

{an : i didnt quite get what you meant when you said "dark" so hopefully this is what you meant. this is really hardcore. to the soft hearted people and people who cant handle ACTUAL freaky stuff, i wouldnt recommend reading this. there is a small section underneath the regular nsfw hc with a cw on it, so if you cant handle certain topics, there is still an nsfw section without it. he is my favorite character from homicipher ommggg hes so hot. id give him my name HAPPILY.}

SFW HC

sfw relationship/meeting him hcs

when you first meet him alone, he is very unexpected. his presence and constant facial expression is unnerving to say the least, but as long as you can manage that you will be fine.

if you end up "accepting" him, the relationship would be very weird.

he would be a wonderful partner despite the obvious other reasons, but dont think he wont be watching you constantly.

he will bring you daily gifts, consisting of anything he can find that he thinks you will like.

as for touch, he will let you touch him. usually he wouldnt let anyone even accidentally touch him, as he would teleport away, but one you are in a relationship with him, most boundaries he had before are gone.

he is rather fond of holding you. whether that be in his coat {for some reason} or just in general.

in Japanese culture {from my research, i am NOT Japanese!!} holding an umbrella with someone is a sign of love and acceptance. therefore he always likes you to hold it with him.

he isnt one of those "down-lo" kind of people. he makes it known everywhere that you are his.

he will do whatever it takes to please you. you are literally his princess/prince. even if that includes killing someone {he does it anyways}

if he catches anyone staring at you, or even remotely close to you, he will either teleport you away {if you are friends with the person} or kill them on the spot.

no matter how much he seems to be emotionless, anything involving you in pain or discomfort, it will flip a switch in him.

he has to be near you always. whether you know it or not, he will be there.

he hasnt quite grasped the concept of kissing or "romantic" things, but whatever you do he goes along with it. he rather enjoys hand holding or pressing his face into your neck.

he is the delulu type {this whole fandom knows it} and anything you do he will take as flirting. dont deny it though, hes too obsessed to care

he has a big thing for the height difference. he is a little over 8 feet tall, and feels a need to protect you at any cost.

any cost.

NSFW HC

what its like to have sex with him.

starting off, this man is a BEAST during sex.

he is a quick learner, and whether he is using his hands, mouth, or any part of his body, he will find those spots that makes you squirm.

one of his favorite things is you riding his thigh in public. say he was talking with Mr. Silvair, and happened to be sitting down. he would want you on his thigh "discreetly" getting off. bonus points if you cum.

he wouldnt be opposed to a threesome, but he has to trust the other person. a rare occasion.

anything you want to do, he will immediately comply. need him to go down on you? hes on his knees. even in public. need his fingers inside of you? absolutely. need his dick? against the wall you go.

he has a big dick, and luckily he knows it. he wont force everything inside at first, but eventually he will. you can take it. he thinks

he loves your body, and he makes sure you know it. even in his strange language, you can understand the things he is saying because he is touching you while he is doing it.

he makes little to no noise during sex, but not because he isnt enjoying it. he LOVES sex with you, but he prefers to listen to your noises. he would have it on repeat if he could.

you could look like anything and he would still find you to be the most attractive person on earth {or his earth, whatever}

for afab, he isnt one of those guys who has a hard time finding your clit. in fact, he doesnt even have to look. immediately his fingers will be circling that little nub that he loves so much.

he is a very dominating person, but it probably wouldnt be hard for him to let you dominate him. i say let because in no situation do you actually have control.

his fingering sessions are borderline violent, the pads of his fingers hitting that perfect spot with every curl.

cw! its about to get very dark and possibly triggering! viewer discretion is advised!

if you are one of those people who get off on your man killing for you, then he is the man. he will torture people in front of you as you touch yourself.

his sex isnt even borderline violent, it IS violent. if hes angry especially, he doesnt care if he hurts you.

afab, he will bruise your cervix and make you bleed. his tip hits so hard with his brutal thrusts that you will.

on certain occasions, {tw!!!} he will force himself on you. while it is rare, r...pe can happen, so be careful and dont piss him off.

he doesnt need sleep, so if hes horny enough then he will fuck you while you're sleeping. if you explicitly ask him not to, then he will just jerk himself off over your sleeping form.

dont expect to walk away from a rough fucking WITHOUT marks all over you. he makes it a mission to bite, claw, tear, any part he can. he wants you covered in blood, it gets him off faster.

will probably brand you with something

if you have a trauma kink he WILL use it to his advantage.

thats all bye bye!!! :3

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

#smut #afab reader #amab reader #mr. scarletella x you #mr. scarletella x y/n #mr. scarletella #cnc somno #mr. scarletella x reader #homicipher #homicipher x reader #dead dove do not eat

1K notes · View notes

shegetsburned · 1 year ago

Text

being in a relationship w. ryomen sukuna ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

so first of all, you’re stuck with him wether you like it or not.

you are his princess and his only. nobody will ever dare to approach you or even attempt to charm you when they know what the king of Curses can do to them.

sukuna is so goddamn protective. even when he’s far away, you can feel his presence, watching over you and knowing every single one of your moves.

he’d definitely kill for you if you asked, and he takes pleasure in it, so it wouldn’t even slightly bother him.

sukuna prefers it when you wear as less clothes as possible, wandering around in a simple drape or a very thin dress for him to be able to eat you out with his gaze.

would demolish anyone on sight that’d harm/hurt or insult you in the slightest way. you can try and beg him not to, but it’s pretty much useless considering it’s probably already been done.

sukuna will praise the shit out of you, and expect to be absolutely spoiled for hundreds of years;

because yeah, you are stuck with him for a very long time. he’ll find a way to keep you all for himself for eternity.

he marks you. there are scratches on your body and bite marks. he wants everyone to know you belong to him.

sukuna’s actions speak louder than his words. he would dominate the world for you, and can’t even properly tell you how he feels.

when he’s in his thoughts, he likes to have you around, sitting on his lap, running a hand through your hair, covering you with his four arms.

no matter what plans for the future he has, sukuna will always include you in those, you don’t even have to ask for a place in his life.

loves calling you by your first name. it’s the only name he lingers on, making sure he pronounces every letter right. probably the only name he cares about remembering.

sukuna isn’t concerned about anybody’s well-being but yours, making sure you are always safe and protected, trust me, nothing will ever happen to you.

let’s be honest, he has already offered you his heart. it’s there, pumping in blood, bleeding in his hand while he hands it to you. it’s either very romantic or very disgusting.

one thing sukuna has said that will always stick with you is when he promised to always be with you. he’ll track you in every lifetime, making you fall for him once more, and his love for you will never fade.

8K notes · View notes

eddiethebrave · 3 months ago

Text

secret admirer part four

1,321 words

one two three

Eddie the hobbit, huh? i haven’t read that one (which isn’t saying much cause i've only read books from class) it’s probably good i’d love to hear you talk about it i’d love to hear you talk about anything, though, so maybe i’m biased p.s. i know it makes me sound like an inconsiderate asshole and maybe i am but i’m only now realizing that i don't know if you want me to stop with these i’m sorry if you do promise i’ll figure out a way to ask -H

Eddie finding a way to reply to him about the book gives Steve peace of mind that he doesn’t want him to stop with the notes, but he still feels sort of weird about it. His thoughts go round and round all day and by the time the dismissal bell rings, he has a bit of a headache.

After checking that he has enough cash on him, Steve goes out to the picnic table behind the school where Mark Jones sells pot most days.

He makes his way into the clearing only to see someone who is certainly not Mark Jones perched on top of the table.

Steve stops dead in his tracks.

Eddie grins sharply and holds his arms out wide. “What have I done to be blessed with his highness’ presence?”

Steve wants to talk to him. Wants to tell him to just call him Steve, wants to ask about his book, but all that comes out of his mouth is, “What are you doing here?”

Eddie’s arms drop to his sides, and he raises his eyebrows in question.

“Where’s Jones?” Steve clarifies, taking slow steps forward.

“Ah, I see. You’re here for my wares.” Eddie abruptly jumps from his seat and stretches with a groan that has Steve’s cheeks heating up. Eddie meanders over to the other side of the table before looking back at Steve and tilting his head in amusement. “Unfortunately, Mark has been let go. He had a nasty pilfering habit.”

Whatever the fuck that means.

Steve can’t help the small smile that grows on his face, but he lifts his hand up to wipe it off inconspicuously. He’s never talked to Eddie before.

Eddie drops onto the bench and gestures for Steve to sit across from him. As he does, Eddie opens his lunchbox and begins to rifle through it. Steve lets his eyes trail to Eddie’s hands while his focus is elsewhere. This close, Steve can finally see what shape the chunky silver ring is. A skull with fangs. Of course, it’s a skull. He should’ve known.

Steve thinks about complimenting it but decides it would only make Eddie suspicious, and he doesn’t wanna be found out (yet, he thinks then immediately backtracks. He can’t let anyone know that he’s writing love notes to a boy. Especially not the boy himself. Who knows how Eddie would react. Even though Steve hasn’t been trying to come off as a girl through the notes, and even though no one could possibly mistake his chicken scratch penmanship for that of a girl’s, still. No one can know).

“So.” Eddie claps his hands and Steve’s eyes snap to his face. “What’ll it be, my liege?”

Steve clears his throat. “Uh, I usually just go for a couple of pre-rolls.”

“Mhm, great choice. Prepared these myself.” Eddie swipes a baggie with two in it and holds it out. When Steve goes to grab it, though, Eddie pulls it out of his reach. “Ah ah ah, Harrington, no freebies.”

Steve rolls his eyes and huffs a laugh. “Yeah, alright, man.” He pulls his wallet out and hands him what he usually pays.

Eddie takes the money and counts it leisurely. “You’re five bucks short.”

Steve stares at him deadpan.

“Birthday fee,” Eddie offers in explanation, shrugging like 'what can you do?’ “Can’t a guy make some extra change for his special day?” Eddie bats his eyelashes.

This boy is trying to kill him. Steve looks heavenward for strength. He counts down from five in his head and only then does he risk looking back at Eddie. “It’s your birthday?”

Eddie grins. “Yup,” he says, popping the p, “Tomorrow. The big one eight.”

Steve stands and tosses a ten onto the table. Eddie passes him the baggie and starts shuffling through his lunchbox. He pulls out a five and holds it out.

Steve waves him off and Eddie peers up at him suspiciously before shrugging and returning the bill to his stash. Steve turns on his heel and begins his journey back to the parking lot. “Happy birthday to me, I guess,” Eddie mutters and Steve smiles to himself. He shoves his hands in his pockets and pivots to walk backwards.

“Happy birthday, Munson,” he calls, and Eddie’s head snaps up.

Steve grins before turning back around and breaking into a jog.

It’s not often that Steve finds himself in the thrift store. Not ever, actually, but with all that Eddie complains about capitalism and The Man (who the fuck is the man) and whatnot, he supposes this is his best bet.

Steve wanders around, not even really knowing what he’s looking for. He’s idly skimming over the women’s jewelry section when he finds it. A silver ring with a blackish blueish stone in the center. It’s not that far off from the one Eddie already has, is it?

Steve tries it on and it’s a bit snug. He’ll admit that he spent far too much time earlier looking at Eddie’s hands and he thinks they were about the same size as his own, if not a bit thinner.

It’s perfect.

…He hopes it’s perfect.

Eddie heard through the grapevine today’s someone’s b-day i left a gift for you under the dealer’s table p.s. it didn’t fit in the locker p.s.s sorry if this is weird but you’ll understand once you see it -H

He jogs to plant the present in its place. He’d rolled the second note up and slipped the ring onto it. It kinda looks like a scroll.

happy birthday eddie i don’t know if you want me to keep writing or if you think it’s weird or what if you want me to stop just don’t wear the ring and i’ll back off i hope you have a good day and that you like the ring <3 p.s. you’re older than me now

Steve is so anxious that he feels nauseous by the time he makes his way back to practice and it must show because coach tells him to take the bench. Tommy shoots him a worried glance but Steve just waves him off.

By lunchtime, Steve doesn’t think he can look. He doesn’t know why it feels like this. Like Eddie not wearing the ring would be the end of the world.

He manages to avoid looking for the first ten minutes and is seriously worried that he won’t have the guts to do it. Just as he’s resigned himself to his fate, Tommy groans from where he’s sitting in Steve’s usual seat (he hadn’t questioned the change) and then he cups his hands around his mouth and shouts.

“Get down, freak!”

Steve only just manages to not flinch. Slowly, he turns in his seat. Eddie pays no mind to Tommy other than flipping him off without even looking in his direction or pausing in his speech.

Eddie is currently using a lunch table as a stage as his friends grin up at him, egging him on. He’s passionate about whatever it is he’s talking about. Steve can tell from the way he begins gesturing wildly as he speaks.

Steve can't tear his eyes away. He feels like he's finally been given permission to look since half of the cafeteria has their attention on him.

It’s then that Steve glimpses the ring on Eddie's right hand. His ring.

five

tag list (closed)

@sofadofax @noodle-shenaniganery @queenie-ofthe-void @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @devondespresso

@dreamingtheimpossibe @plutoshelm @jaywhohasthegay @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie

@dreamy-jeans137 @justdrugsformethanks @estrellami-1 @travelingtwentysomething @sleepy-steve

@wheneverfeasible @bisexual-and-broke @lil-gremlin-things @n0-1-important @xxbottlecapx

@tinyplanet95

sorry if i missed anyone!!

#steddie #posted early bc im so excited for this #someone help i cant stop writing #they finally met #scream with me #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things

816 notes · View notes

violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year ago

Note

my love if i may request a whiskey with dbf!joel or dbf!bucky with the prompt “i’ve wanted this for so long” and mayhaps if it’s not too much to ask for but some breeding kink👀👉🏻👈🏻

Promises, Promises.

warnings - smut. cursing.

I figured I'd make this dbf!bucky, because i've done a dbf!joel fic for this celebration already. y'all, I read the words dad's best friend and go fucking feral. this one got away from me.

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

You're the last person Bucky expected to be at his front door at 3am.

"What's wrong, honey?"

"Locked myself out of my goddamn house, and my parents are still on vacation. Can I crash here tonight? Please?"

Who is he to turn down an offer that tempting?

"Course. Come on, it's too cold for you to be stood out here."

The two of you sit down on his couch, settling in to watch some TV.

"Bucky Barnes. Are you watching a romcom?"

He blushes, a slight flush creeping up his cheeks.

"If you tell anyone, I'll kill you. They're my guilty pleasure."

"It makes me like you more, if anything," you grin. He can't help but smile back at you, less embarrassed now.

"Look, my love life is fuckin' terrible. I live vicariously through these cheesy films right now."

"You? Terrible love life? Those two phrases don't usually go in the same sentence."

You're teasing him. Seeing if you can get a rise, hit the right button.

"Oh, shut it. Just because you're on a new date every week."

"I'm... what?"

"Your Dad seems to think you're dating a lot."

You quirk a brow at him, amusement curling at the corners of your lips.

"Is that so?"

"I'm only telling you what I've heard, honey."

He crosses his arms across his chest, biceps threatening to break free from the confines of his t shirt.

"He's wrong."

"Is that so?"

You roll your eyes.

"I have a friend, he's a guy. My Dad automatically assumes we're dating because we hang out. But we're not."

"And why not?"

"I don't know, I guess he's just..." you debate your answer, realising it's now or never. "He's not old enough for me. Not mature enough."

Bucky bites his lip, eyes scanning your face.

"He's your age."

"Exactly. Boys my age don't know shit."

He laughs, but it's dark and low, something brewing beneath the surface.

"You always were too smart for your own good, huh?"

Bucky's thigh is pressing into yours, the warmth from his skin seeping through. His rough fingertips glide across your arm, slow and soft. He's testing the waters.

"I shouldn't want this," he murmurs, barely audible. "Neither should you."

"But I do," you whisper. "So fucking bad."

"Me too."

Bucky grabs the back of your neck, smashing his lips to yours. You grip at his hair, his biceps, his shirt - anything you can get a hold of. You feel like you're dreaming, your filthiest thoughts coming into fruition.

He pulls you into his lap so you're straddling his hips, grinding down and panting into his mouth. You're both breathless, but neither of you want to be the first to pull away.

Bucky rips your shirt over your head, instantly attacking your chest with kisses. He's marking you up, claiming you as his. You should be worried about the repercussions, but you're not.

You pull his shirt off and rake your nails down his front, grinning when he shivers. Suddenly, Bucky stands up, setting you on your feet.

"Strip."

You blink at him, processing.

"Strip, baby. I won't tell you again."

You shimmy your pants down your legs, your underwear going too. Your mouth waters as you watch him undress, admiring the angles and smooth ridges of him. A Greek God.

Bucky stalks over to you and hooks a foot behind your ankle, sending you both flying onto the rug on the floor. He cushions your fall, not letting go of you once. Running two fingers through your wet heat, he groans.

"All for me, pretty girl? What did I do to deserve somethin' this sweet, huh?"

"Need you," you whine. "Please, Buck."

"I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs, lining himself up. "Fuck, you're a dream."

You both gasp as he slides home, your back arching and his jaw falling slack. Bucky rests a hand against the base of your throat, the weight grounding you back down to Earth.

"Need you to move," you choke out. "Fuck, I need it, Buck. Please."

"Oh you need it, do you?" he smirks. "My needy girl."

He snaps his hips into yours in long, careful glides, very aware of the effect he has on you. Before long, his restraint snaps, and his thrusts get harder, quicker, more frantic.

"Gonna fill you up, baby," he's muttering under his breath. "Make you mine. You want that? To have everyone know who you belong to?"

You're nodding rapidly, tears gathering in your eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

"How are we gonna keep this a secret if you're pregnant, huh?"

The thought makes you moan, a breathy, gutteral sound.

"You like that? Want me to make you a mommy? Fuck, I'll give you everything you ask for. I'll buy you a house and knock you up, you'll never want for anything."

His low, honeyed words throw you over the edge, squeezing and clenching around him. Bucky groans, deep and rumbled, the sound vibrating through the both of you. You find your releases together, panting and out of breath.

"House first."

"Huh?" he breathes, raising his head from your chest.

"Buy me a house first. Kids second. Maybe marriage in between."

He laughs, floating and content. You both know he meant what he said, not just a heat of the moment confession.

You stay wrapped up in each other for hours, on the rug in front of the fire.

You'll deal with the repercussions later.

6K notes · View notes

sylusjinwoon · 4 months ago

Text

{ 200 }

tender love and care.

sylus x (non mc)fem.reader

because you were labeled as sylus’s woman while here at the n109 zone, you were given several special privileges that made you just as powerful (if not, than more so) as sylus solely because you had such a man wrapped around your fingers.

you recall the date that marked your three month anniversary with him, where sylus gifted you a ruby, teardrop necklace with a matching ring as he told you the significance of his gift immediately,

“each time you walk out to explore the city and head out to work when i’m not around, these rubies will be a reminder to others that you are mine. that you’re under my constant protection, and should anyone dare to disturb your life, i’ll be there to teach them a lesson they shall never forget.”

even the memory of the passion in his voice, coupled along with the way he playfully bites down on your ring finger was enough to make you shiver in response.

the fact that you held his heart within the palm of your very hands filled you with a sense of unbidden joy, where you wanted to do nothing more than to litter his face with gentle butterfly kisses and shower him with the type of unconditional love he had been missing from his entire life.

and you had been with him ever since, never once regretting your decision to remain by his side.

currently, due to certain circumstances at work where several people had called out sick, you were forced to work a double shift. you did your best to cover for your missing coworkers as your supervisor gave you a grateful expression. once your shift ended later that evening, he allows you to take the rest of the week off as a thank you for all your hard work. despite the exhaustion you felt, you couldn’t ignore the undeniable happiness that courses through your veins.

as you step out of your workplace, you were immediately greeted by sylus. he was parked directly in front of your workplace building while leaning against his motorcycle. a grumpy expression was seen on his face, painting his handsome features in a scowl as the sight of it all made you giggle in response. all too eager to see him, you stop directly in front of him and allow his arms to automatically encircle around your form.

“i should kill that boss of yours for making you take over.” he growls into your ear, clearly upset. you tighten your arms around him in hopes of calming him down when you admit to him, “hey, there’s no need to be so grumpy. in fact, my boss was kind enough to give me the rest of the week off thanks to my hard work.”

upon hearing your words, sylus visibly relaxes, pressing a kiss against your lips before tossing you your helmet. it was specially designed in your favorite color, and you couldn’t help but smile at it for a moment as you held your helmet within your hands. sylus ends up donning his helmet first before getting on his bike, turning back to narrow his eyes at you, silently gesturing at you to get on.

with a playful roll of your eyes, you wear your helmet and get on behind sylus, wrapping your arms around his front. he places his hands over your folded arms, giving it a brief squeeze before revving up the bike and making its descent out into the city. knowing that he chose to take the scenic route back home, you take a moment to admire how brightly the city lights shone like gemstones beneath the moonlight. giggles were heard escaping from your parted lips, and oddly enough, sylus was able to hear the sounds of your laughter as he briefly gives your arm another squeeze with one hand before navigating expertly across the streets.

quite some time passes before you and sylus return to your shared penthouse apartment. he parks in his usual spot before taking off his and your respective helmets, holding them both in one hand while interlocking his fingertips with yours in the other. despite how you had been with him for close to two years now, your feelings never once went stale for him. you were just as in love and enamored with him as the first day, the day when you had just met him.

while riding the elevator with him to the top floor, you cuddled your body closer to his shoulder, earning a knowing smirk from him as he gives your hands a gentle squeeze in response. when you both finally reach the top floor, you watch sylus as he takes long strides toward the penthouse all while unlocking it with his key.

the moment you enter your shared home. you were immediately hit with the mouth watering scent of your favorite takeout, seeing it all spread out on the coffee table. you were so happy to enjoy all of your favorite foods with sylus that you couldn’t help but lean in to give him a chaste kiss.

“you’re spoiling me, my grumpy crow.” you tell him while framing at his face.

he scoffs before taking your hand, gently biting down against it with his crimson eyes twinkling with mischief and love for you, “anything for you, darling.”

sylus gestures at you to enjoy the meal first, moving to the side to place his keys on the counter along with storing your helmets. with your stomach growling, you take a box and dig in with your fork while settled on the couch, moaning at how delicious everything tasted. a few minutes later, sylus returns back to you with his arms crossed, clearly amused at the way you kept stuffing your face.

“how cute.” he hums before catching you off guard, choosing to pick you up from the couch as he settles you on his lap. your cheeks were felt heating up in response, yet still, you were comfortable enough to cuddle yourself even closer to his chest while continuing to eat.

you both enjoyed the rest of your late dinner, with you spoiling sylus by feeding him bites of your food and vice versa with him as well. by the time you finished your meal, you felt so full that you could barely move, choosing to land against him when sylus places the empty boxes and utensils on the table.

“what’s this? has my princess had her fill?” you cough at how suggestive he sounded, hiding your face within his shoulder as you playfully bit down against it. a low groan was heard coming from him, and you let out a soft, victorious laugh while telling him, “sy, i’m too tired and full to move… can you carry me?”

he feigns annoyance with a huff of your name, but doesn’t deny you of your wishes (he never could deny you). with a grunt, he stands back to his full height while carrying you in his arms, bridal style. you end up giggling profusely at the sensation, burying your head within his shoulder as he leads you to your shared bedroom and opens the door to the master bathroom.

setting you against the counter, sylus helps with taking off your clothes, leaving you bare for him as he does the same. you were given a moment to admire his delicious body, eyes tracing at the muscles that decorate the entirety of his godlike body. he sees your hungry stare and smirks before taking you in his arms once more. he begins to hum an unfamiliar turn, but you bask in this uncharacteristic softness exuding from the leader of onychinus (a side he only saves for you).

while keeping you in his embrace, he fills his luxurious, porcelain tub with warm water, adding your favorite scented bubbles within it before entering it with you. with his back settled against the tub, your own back was pressed against the front of his chest. you let out a soft moan upon feeling the hot waters surrounding you. the sensation of it coupled with the way sylus’s large hands began massaging at your shoulders was enough to make you practically melt against him.

you were dimly aware of his rich chuckles against your ear, dozing off against his gorgeous body. sylus works on washing your form while lathering your hair with shampoo, the sensation of it all earning a series of soft purrs from you.

“heh, is my kitten satisfied?”

you merely let out a hum in response, moving your head to the side as you allowed sylus to give the newly revealed skin of your neck a series of reverent kisses. once he was satisfied with cleaning you, rinsing your body free of any soap suds, he gets out of the bathtub while still holding you within his embrace.

never once does he leave your side. from drying your body with a plush towel, to helping you get into your sleeping clothes, sylus takes spoiling you with care to the next level. and by the time he reaches your shared bedroom while placing you in bed, you were already half asleep.

as you lay beneath the covers, body curled as you remained cuddled to him, sylus takes a moment to admire you. his long fingertips were felt brushing through your damp hair as he manages to capture a wet strand within his grasp, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss against it.

“i bet you have no idea what you do to me…” his gruff whisper was directed toward you, but it was clear that you were so deep in your slumber that you didn’t hear him. with a huff of your name, sylus reaches over his nightstand to pull out a tiny, velvet box. upon opening it, it would be revealed to contain your dream engagement ring.

as his gaze focuses on you, he takes a hold of your left hand with a hum, sliding the ring against your left ring finger before admiring it. a smirk paints his handsome expression when he leans closer to press a kiss against your ring.

“once you awaken… then you’ll know that my promises of forever has always been true and not simply a play on words. i hope you’re prepared to be mine, my darling love.”

and despite how you were in a deep sleep, sylus could have sworn he saw you smiling in response to his fervent promises of forever.

a.n. - don’t mind me, this is just a self indulgent mess that i need in my life. i love sylus so much;;; i need him so badly 😭

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sylus x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x you #jin woon x you #jin woon x reader #lads sylus #lads x reader #lnds x reader #.stories

908 notes · View notes

wannaeatramyeon · 3 months ago

Text

Gitae Kim x Reader: Half Sibling

G/N. Testing out some characterisation... Masterlists

"He looks like you," you comment, leaning over into Gitae's space.

Anyone else and those words would have earned a beating. Maybe a brutal killing. You can already imagine the reaction, his blank face as he reaches for his axe.

But you-

You usually never receive much more than some glares for your insolence, if he acknowledges your insolence at all that is. Which you use to your full advantage. Pushing his buttons and toeing the line, testing to see exactly how much you can get away with.

The photo is pixelated. Not pixelated enough that you can't recognise the same angle of the eyes, the strong jaw and nose.

Another half sibling then.

Gitae ignores you and continues to study the candid shot. Eyes roaming over the scar on the bridge of an almost familiar nose and on his lips. The brown leather gloves adorning his hands.

"He's cute." You feel like pushing your luck today. And this guy really is cute.

Half lidded and lazy, Gitae's gaze is finally turned towards you.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing." You shrug and continue looking at the picture, refusing to glance at him, fighting to keep the smile off your lips.

"You wanted my attention, now you got it."

The photo is thrown aside with a flick of the hand.

He pulls you into his lap, moves your whole body without needing to even use a fraction of his monstrous strength. "Make it worth my while."

Gitae's fingers dig into your hip. Your words haven't gone unnoticed and your bratty attitude won't go unpunished.

"You think this one is cute?" He asks.

You still avoid his eyes, though you can feel a poorly concealed grin creeping over your face.

"Don't make me repeat myself,” His voice, low and silky, pours into your ear.

Calloused fingers grip onto your chin, harder than usual but not as hard as you deserve, angling your face to his. Until there's nowhere else to look except into his eyes.

He's amused with your antics. Then again, he usually is. Although there's something else lurking in his features and you think it might be-

You think it is-

"You jealous?" You ask with a smirk, ignoring the way his hold tightens on you.

"No."

You think that's a lie. You know it is when-

Gitae leans, dips forward and captures your lips with his.

He kisses you like a man possessed. Fierce. Dominant. Overbearing. Almost too much to take. Leaves you bruised and swollen, half panting into his mouth and grinding into his lap.

His hands, you're sure, are going to leave marks. You can feel his annoyance from the pressure of his touch but you relish how it sears your skin.

It's all a warning. You get the response you desire.

You are told, without any shadow of a doubt, that you are his and to watch your goddamn tongue.

#i can fix him. yes but lets make him WORSE #forgive me jake. forgive me sinu. forgive me minseong #lookism #lookism x reader #gitae kim #kitae kim #kim gitae #gitae kim x reader #kim gitae x reader #wannaeatramyeon

631 notes · View notes

cornerstoreclown · 27 days ago

Text

Workshop Fun

Summary: This is a short one-shot (7021 words) where the Reader (female) has an established relationship with Art the Clown, and has been kiiiind of collaborating with him passively. Reader is wearing a dress for the sole purpose of easy access. Reader has a vulva and breasts.

Contents: Biting, light spanking, ...phone... sex? Having an unknowing participant on the other line is the only way I can word it, light spanking, lots of making out, clothed sex, BDSM, Art being cruel, p in v penetration, finger sucking and light body worship

Author’s notes: Sorry what took me so long to do this, I’ve been sitting on this for years! Male version will be out in a few days. This is LIGHTLY proofread, so keep your expectations at a level where you won’t be surprised if there’s any mistakes. Also once again I am an Art the Clown front zipper truther for my clothed sex kink.

——————————————————

You loved him.

Did he kill people? Yes. Did he sometimes allude to killing you as well? Absolutely. Has he acted on it yet? Not fully, but you could tell that sometimes he had that compulsion to go through with it, when he’d get that twinkle in his eye.

Especially when you were up close and personal with him, your bodies merely inches apart, sometimes with him even holding a weapon in hand. He’s a wild animal. A force of evil locked away in the confines of a corporeal body made of flesh and bone.

And yet, all the same, you loved him. The way that his hands would travel across your flesh and explore the parts of you that you never let anyone else. Sometimes he’d leave bruises, other times scratches. Then there were the bite marks. Each intimate encounter would leave you in a different state of mess. He was the lover who was like a cat. One day he’d be here, gone the next. You couldn’t put a thumb on the patterns.

The waits were long, but you’re loyal, and you’re patient. You didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter. You’d wait until the ends of the earth for him. Sometimes during the months that he wasn’t here, you’d dream of him. All of these little fantasies you’d have in your head would sometimes come to visit you behind your closed lids, where reality had no limitations. It would make the ache feel less. Every time that he’d come back, you made sure to find him as quickly as possible the second you heard whisperings pertaining to sightings of him, or any kind of crime scene that felt like it had his signature on it. Sometimes he’d find you first.

Art wasn’t someone who was very materialistic. And money meant next to nothing to Art—the personification of evil had very little need for the vast kinds of desires that plagued man.

But he wasn’t necessarily immune to the pleasures of the flesh, you learned. Despite how for the most part, he remained heavily uninterested in intimacy, he had a few moments here and there, and you capitalized on them when you could. You had a feeling tonight would be one of those nights.

Or, well, you hoped.

Worst case scenario he’d turn you away or ignore any advances, and he has a few times. And that was okay.

You came into his hideout tonight with confidence instilled in you, but yet the excitement still makes your stomach do flips. It’s been too long, and the fire within your chest is reignited. You feel passion, you feel love so strong that it’s enough to keep you up at night, and it has happened plenty of times before. You wonder if he’s got some sort of spell over you, and you’d believe it if that were the case. You’ve never fallen so madly, deeply, for anyone before like you have him. It could be enough to make you physically ill if you thought about how much you loved him. Such a passion came with such a detriment to you.

Past the damaged doors of a since abandoned fairly abandoned warehouse, you have a smooth descent down the stairs, leading you to a type of basement setting. There’s plenty of water dripping. Rats squeaking as they chitter and skitter along. You catch glimpses of them in the dim lighting, but they don’t bother you. As long as you didn’t see a bunch of them with their tails tied together, you wager you’ll be pretty okay.

You dressed up nicely for him tonight.

You weren’t really a dress kind of person, but tonight you made it an exception. It wasn’t fancy or over the top, and by the love of god, it had pockets. You refused to wear heels however, whatever shoes you had that worked and didn’t give you the possibility of breaking your ankle down these flights of stairs was the option you went with. Art might have found it funny if you hurt yourself, but you aren’t too keen on getting yourself dinged up before he gets the chance to do it himself.

The dress was about one thing–accessibility. Easy to lift up, easy for him to slide in right where he belonged.

You loved when he was inside of you, when you’d feel the heat of his heavy breath against the back of your neck. You run your hands over the spot where you last remember feeling the warmth of his breath. You remember being beneath him and feeling as if the very heat that he quietly exhaled felt as if it were smoldering your skin, burning you like the way the flames of hell were supposed to. If being with this clown meant that you’d be burning in the afterlife, you’d gladly bathe yourself in the inferno.

Your stomach flutters.

You shouldn’t be this excited. He’s a murderer. A killer. A man with no morals, and you’re not even sure if he was a man sometimes at all. Yet, his darkness is what drew you in. He was your safe space, and no one would dare come into that space to try and harm you so long as you were in his arms.

When you reach the bottom of the steps, you see it–a single dangling light, and illuminating this dark space is a double door that is plainly rusted. You see a bloody handprint on it. It’s since dried.

You recognize the size of that hand, and feel slightly lighter, just in the moment.

Placing your own hand in the exact space over Art’s bloodied print, you push the door open. The door is a little on the heavy side, but with enough force, the door opens.

“Art?” You call out, making sure that your presence is acknowledged as friendly and not hostile. The room is a little darkly lit, very heavy on the minimum lighting that’s needed to navigate in the space. It most certainly added to the creepy ambiance. Straight ahead, there sat none other than Art. His back was given to you. He was sitting on a stool, hammering away at something on his workbench. He turns his head upon hearing his name, and you see that he gives you a smile, baring his rotted discolored teeth as his eyes are closed. You can see the wrinkles form a little in the corner of his eyes when he smiles.

You liked that. You liked the details etched into his face. It added character among those otherwise gaunt features of his.

“Hey, buddy.” You call out to him, and he gives you a little wave, before gesturing for you to come closer.

You approach him, and once you’re near the bench with him, you can see when you’re close enough that he gives you a once over, assessing you… Judging you, for what it is you’re wearing tonight.

“Like it?” You ask him, twirling from side to side so that your dress splays out a little. It’s simple. Gets the job done. And if it got ruined? No love loss.

Art’s gaze seems fixed on you, first on your dress, then up at you. For a man who doesn’t speak, his eyes seem to say all that needs to be said, as he reaches for the end of your dress and starts to lift it, until you gently smack the top of his hand. Art draws his hand back to his side immediately, glancing up at you, looking a little like a kid that was chided.

Naughty of him, trying to get a sneak peek beforehand.

“Not yet,” You tell him.

Art looks a little irritated, folding his arms across his chest and pouting. At least he seems interested tonight.

You clear your throat, and Art’s attention is still locked on you. He’s watching you expectantly.

“You’ve settled in quite nicely.” It was just yesterday you surveyed the area on his behalf, and helped him move in properly. Already on his workbench, he has got quite a few improvised weapons he’d been working on. Your eyes go to one weapon in particular, and you point at it.

“What’s that?”

Art turns to look at the weapon you’ve pointed out, and when he lifts it to proudly show it, it’s exactly what it looked like–an improvised flail. Attached to a long metal rod, is a long wire, and when your eyes follow to the end of the wire, you see wrapped around in such an intricate and meticulous way are a variety of knives, serving as what would be the ‘spikes’. You’re impressed. He even hands it to you, to which you take it. It’s got a decent weight to it, too. Not too heavy, but not too light.

“Woah.” You say, as Art watches you, quite proud of how dazzled you are. He’s an artist at heart, you knew this. The knives have some rust on them. One of them looks stained from a previous bloody encounter. He’s clearly working with whatever he’s got on him.

“If anyone survives this, they better pray they don’t get tetanus.” You muse, and Art’s face twists in amusement in a silent laugh. You hand the weapon back to him, and he takes it once he’s done getting in a few silent chuckles at your joke, gently placing it back down on the table.

No one escapes Art with their soul still in their body. Literal or figurative. You were either dead, or you were burdened with his encounter your entire life, both physically and mentally.

You weren’t any different. Your bruises and bites and scars have been out of love. One could argue that you got off easy, but you’d argue otherwise.

Being in love with the Miles County Clown is torture in and of itself. There were nonstop dreams that came with it. It seemed as if every other week he’d plague you in your sleep. Not to mention that you had to be extremely clever to not be caught under affiliation with him–which was even more stress. So far, though, so good.

He’s worth it, you tell yourself. Even if he wasn’t anymore, there’s no way you could leave. He’d kill you. And you have zero doubts that your death wouldn't be painless.

After a few seconds of silence, you sigh.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave all the time.” You begin to tell him. Art’s expression is neutral, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. His teeth are bared, as they often are. Your tone isn’t one of whining, but of yearning. You know that this came with the territory, and you readily accepted his lack of presence at any given time.

But it didn’t hurt to dream. Art tilts his head, watching you from where he sits curiously.

“Maybe one day we can find some place that… Is ours. Separate from… This.” You gesture towards the weapons he’s making. Every so often he hides somewhere different to prepare for the trouble he intends to cause. “A place that maybe once you’re done for the day, we both can be in to unwind. And a permanent place for you that isn’t just my apartment. But like. A place for you. For us.”

Taking him to your apartment kept getting riskier and riskier each time. Also, he made it quite clear he didn’t really care for your decor. Giving him his own place to make his own that he could express himself would be ideal, and it wouldn’t be like a place he’d have to abandon every year. He could actually have and keep stuff… If he wanted to even do that.

The more you think about it, the more you’re starting to think it sounds silly. You see the way that he’s looking at you, and he appears very stern. Sharp.

Your confidence begins to drop, and as you’re about to speak again, you stammer, before laughing nervously.

“Yeah. You’re right. Sorry, that was a silly idea–any long term space we made for you would probably get found out eventually, too. I–”

The stool screams as it’s slid across the ground, back towards the bench when he stands up. It sounded like one of his many victims. You go quiet as he’s hovering over you, and you swallow any words that you might have wanted to tell him.

The silence is heavy. His shoulders are rising and falling, and you feel your heartbeat in your ears.

Seconds tick by and they feel more like minutes, and you can’t stand it any longer. You open your mouth to speak, but you’re swiftly cut off.

Art yanks you by the collar of your dress, and forces his lips against yours.

Your eyes are wide briefly in surprise, but they close as soon as you register what’s happening, and you moan in the kiss. Art’s a bit of a sloppy kisser, but you’ve come to love it. His taste was acrid as well, but you craved the bitterness at this point, no longer gagging like you used to. As he leans forward to kiss you harder, you put more of yourself in it as well, mixing his intensity with your passion and desire that’s been left simmering for months.

Now it’s boiling over.

Art places both of his hands on either side of your face, and it’s like he’s trying to suffocate you with his kisses, barely giving you much time to breathe in between them. You’re getting a little lightheaded.

He pulls away from your lips to kiss you a few times on the cheek, then nuzzling his face against yours. Almost like a cat.

It gives you the chance to catch your breath. His hands reach for yours, and you let him, feeling the way that his fingers interlace with your own. You look down at the way that your fingers intertwined with his dirtied and calloused ones. He was a man who worked with his hands–in more ways than one. Those same fingers belonged to the same hands that would worship you, tear and pull at you without ever breaking you completely in half. Sometimes it’d be close, but never fully. They would sometimes draw blood when the nails would sink into your flesh and leave behind crescent marks. Other times, those hands would strangle you, smack you–slap you, and bring a sting across your body that reminded you just how alive you were. Then those same hands would caress you. Cradle you.

He’d cut you on a few occasions, but they were never lethal. And with every cut, his tongue followed.

You feel reverence. Especially as you press a kiss to the tip of his fingers–you kiss each one, tenderly, making eye contact with him as you do so.

Art watches knowingly. He raises his head a little so that when he watches you, he’s looking down at you, all too aware of how you worship him. And he accepts it. But only from you. Just you. No one else.

After kissing each finger, from pinkie to thumb, you stop back at his index, soft lips pressed against the pad of it. His fingers were stained. Caked in whatever gore and dirt and grime he’d touched earlier.

Not that you cared, nor would you let it stop you. You’re a freak. Not well in the head. You’d lick any and all of his love off of the world's sharpest blade if that’s the only way he gave it. If he wanted you to cut your tongue on it, you would.

Bringing his index finger to your mouth, you wrap your lips around it, and watch him. He tastes exactly how you’d expect—foul and wretched. You catch the faintest hint of iron. A taste that you’ve come to associate pleasantly with him. That part feels right.

Art’s gaze is fixed on you. You can’t read his thoughts, and though he doesn’t speak, you recognize what that look means. Even as he observes you, teeth bared subtly, head still held high, which he inclines just slightly as you take another finger in your mouth–his middle one.

You suck his fingers lewdly, and close your eyes. You imagine it’s his cock, even though you know that his fingers can’t compare to the real deal. You push your tongue through his index and middle as you take more of him in your mouth. Art watches your tongue work around him, until he decides to press down on the muscle, effectively stopping you.

You stare at him.

Seconds linger in silence, and he relinquishes pressure off of your tongue, letting you move it freely again.

And you do. You hold his hand and go back to kissing his fingers before fellating them. Index first. Then the middle. And finally the ring finger–all three at once. The taste of iron is stronger. You sigh a gentle moan as you pull your head back and give him back his hand. You kiss at the tips of his fingers again. As you’re about to take his fingers a third time, he leans forward instead, his lips taking yours. You feel the way that he seizes both of your wrists as he floods your senses all over again, and you let him.

You try to say his name in between the kisses, but each time you get a breath between the barrage of affection that seems to practically swallow you whole, Art steals your voice with another passionate kiss. Again, his taste is bitter, his teeth are damn near rotten, but you’ve gotten so accustomed to the flavor that it doesn’t make you gag. It makes you feel only slightly sickly. But the arousal overrides any lingering discomfort.

It’s disorienting. It’s all so much at once. You feel your body temperature rise. Art gives you back one of your wrists, but in doing so, he places his hand at the small of your back and pulls you in against him, until there’s no space left between you.

That’s when you feel it. You feel the heat of his erection pressed against your thighs. You’ve excited him enough, it being quite clear the effect your mouth had on him.

You smile, but his lips are back at yours again, and the taste of bitterness hits at the back of your tongue—the most sensitive taste receptors lighting up and ripping any smugness you had straight out of you as you close your eyes and sigh softly. His tongue mingles with yours.

He begins to move, forcibly taking you with him as you change where you’re standing, so that he’s no longer the one whose back is facing the workbench–it’s you. You feel the edge of the table bump against your ass. With your positions effectively switched, you don’t mind at all, far too enraptured by the kisses of your clown lover.

This was pure bliss.

He pulls away from your lips, now kissing the corners of your mouth, then going to your jawline, until he’s at your neck, sucking and licking and nibbling, giving you goosebumps. You feel your nipples go hard. You close your eyes and moan softly.

This is the few times of the year that you get this. It was the time that you’d be peppered in kisses, ravaged, and torn asunder in such a way that it would take you almost the remaining however many days, months, or years until you’d see him again to put yourself back together.

“Art…” You laugh a little when his lips tickle a part of your neck. He silences you again with his lips to yours. You feel the way that he nips at your tongue this time and draws a little blood. The endorphins from the pain gives you a pleasant buzz. He bites your bottom lower lip next, taking note of how he’s beginning to use his teeth more and more during this exchange, and you think about how he’s eaten the faces of his victims before.

You could be next.

He pulls away and kisses at the corners of your lips a second time. He’s obsessed with using his mouth. Your eyes finally open, and you gently move your head back a bit, until Art finally stops, the both of you staring into each other's eyes. His teeth are bared all the same as they were before, but there’s a sultry gaze you’re familiar with. Up this close, you can see the more subtle details of him.

Like his lashes, which otherwise, from a distance is obscured by the paint over his face.

How could someone–or… Something, be so monstrous… Yet so… pretty? You could get lost in his gaze. You could drown in it. And he knows that. And he likes that power over you.

Your lips turn upwards into a soft smile, and you feel a desire pool at your groin. It’s an undeniable throbbing in tune with your heartbeat. Nevermind that you can feel his own arousal against you. He’s warmer than you–he feels like he’s practically burning up, compared to you, and the body heat radiating from him only serves to make you hotter in turn. Right to the point where you’re developing a thin sheen of sweat across your brow.

“I love you.”

He watches you, and through his body language and eyes, you understand him through his reaction. You see a slow, smug smile appear on his face.

Very much an, I know. No sign of reciprocation. That would be too heavy of an ask from someone like him. But him being receptive to your love was a testament to how much he liked you.

Not that you expected anything less from a cold killer such as the Miles County Clown. The fact that he hasn’t yet killed you throughout all these years speaks in a kind of love on its own, you’d think.

Maybe not the one that people would refer to as being actually in love, but for him, for Art, it was. Love was tolerance. Love was allowing you to live.

You feel a hand slip up your dress again, and this time, you don’t stop him. You part your legs for him this time, willingly letting him indulge in what you denied him earlier. Through your panties you feel his thick fingers, his index and middle pressing against your clit, sliding down between your cunt and back up again. He threatens to penetrate you with the tips of his fingers through your panties with a gentle prod, but doesn’t follow through on it.

You ache, feeling more empty than ever.

He’s doing this on purpose. All because you told him to wait earlier.

“Art,” You say his name with a weak laugh, and he stops to look at you, knowingly, at that, well aware of what it is he’s doing. His little way of being petty with you, and he continues once more, trailing his fingers up and down between your thighs, waiting for you to continue.

“It’s been months,” You plead for him. His face is still inches from yours, and you lean more of yourself against him, as your voice gets low. He observes you through half lidded eyes, analyzing you, assessing you and sizing you up. He’s no longer smiling, and his lips are downturned ever so slightly. The expression looks more neutral now.

“I wanna have some fun.” You purse your lips. “Put your weapon crafting down for a bit?”

Your tone is pleading. It’s a mix of a command and a request–you’re voicing your thoughts. You try to get a reading on his response through his eyes, but he’s put up a wall that you can’t breach. He’s unreadable. It’s been months upon months since you’ve both done anything together.

“…Please?”

Art’s gaze is still indecipherable. It makes you a little nervous. The hairs on the back of your neck begin to stand up. Did he change his mind suddenly?

Had it been anyone else, you know they’d be dead instantly. There was no wondering about that. Not a speculation or doubt in your mind. You hated when he did this, when he was fucking with you like this, leaving you in silence. It’s in times like these that you’re reminded that you’re with a wild animal, and he could snap at any second if he decided he was hungry. It was part of the risk you took and the bargain you struck.

Maybe he’d just stab you here and now. Slit your throat and call it a fucking day because he decided that, nope, don’t wanna keep doing this anymore! He could. Again, he’s pushed you away before. Other days he’s yanked you in against him. His mood was unpredictable, hard to guess, and as volatile as a storm across an ocean.

Without another word, you’re turned around, and the flat of Art’s palm travels down your spine as he presses the front of your body forward and down onto the workbench. He gives you time to adjust, so that you’re at least able to rest your forearms on the table top. As of right now, your tits are squished against the surface of the table. It’s a little uncomfortable.

This is surprisingly tender, all things considered. You remember one time when he’d been fucking you on his workbench, how he tied your hands together with some zipties and then choked you out by wrapping some rusty metal chains around your neck. And that was only after he’d finished whipping your breasts, thighs and ass until you were a bloody bruised mess barely hanging on. You still have some scars from those times. He loved to twirl you over the line of death like it was all one dance, pulling you back at the last second.

You go from feeling his palm to the fingertips travel down your back. If it weren’t for the fabric of your dress in the way, you know those blood and dirt stained fingertips would have tickled you by now. And he’s done that in the past while fucking you–tickling you mercilessly. He even makes a point to wiggles his fingers a little against your back on the way down playfully. You can’t help but laugh a little as you exhale, letting some of the excitement stirring within you leave your body through your lungs. Your breaths are getting deeper, and in times like this, when he thrills you in such a way, you’re reminded just how much he makes you feel…

Alive.

Because when you’re with him, death is always hot on your heels. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Don’t be gentle,” You tell him. He knows. You know he knows.

You hear the metallic zipper from the front of his suit go down as the teeth on the track separate and reveal the body of a man beneath that clown visage. You steal a glance over your shoulder to admire his pale skin that covered over such a thin frame. Amazing how a build such as his carries such supernatural strength.

Unceremoniously, he gets right to work, giving your ass a firm slap after lifting the back of your dress, letting it crumple up over your hips. You yelp gently as you know that there’s likely already a red spot on your rump. Art rubs the spot on your ass he’d slapped, then gives it a gentle squeeze.

You make the decision to look over your shoulder, right on time to experience watching when the killer clown makes the decision that you no longer are in need of your panties. His dirtied fingers slip within the space between the elastic waistband of your undergarment and your skin. He lets it snap against your flesh once–that’s about the extent of use it gets before he grabs whatever meager fistful he can of that excuse of ‘modesty’ you brought to him and rips it clean off your form.

“Ow!”

You told him to be rough. And he’s planning on taking that quite literally, as he’s taking it for not just the sex, but all of what precedes it apparently. He’s quietly laughing to himself, teeth showing, eyes crinkled.

“Glad you got some entertainment out of it.”

A few more noiseless giggles then he sobers up. Back to the task at hand—fucking your brains out.

He aligns himself right up against your warm dripping cunt, hands gripping your hips so tightly that his filthy fingertips leave stains on your dress. His nails are so sharp you swear that if he tried to sink them in any further, he’d pierce the cloth and right into your flesh. You inhale sharply again, bracing for the moment he sinks in. You feel the tip of his cock press against you and begin to push in, the head barely getting the chance even to get inside you before it slips and glides between the crack of your ass as he misses. Your excitement stutters for a second, but then ramps back up higher than before, impatience and desire washing over you wholly like a wave.

You’ve been grabbing at the edge of the workbench, hands holding tight and then releasing them of their grip every so often to relax your muscles. You don’t say anything.

He’s annoyed at missing you the first push in.

With a look of disgruntlement he instead opts for one hand reaching to push your head down against the table with such a cruel force that makes you worry for a split second that he was trying to crush your skull. It was his way of trying to steady you as he then uses his other hand to line the head of his cock right against your cunt for the second time.

You shiver as you feel him, hands turning to fists that you clench tightly as inch by agonizing inch, he spreads you and fills you out easily. Your body did the heavy work, and has been prepping for him for the last ten minutes. It’s slick, and he can feel the wetness of your cunt hit against his balls when he bottoms out within you. That’s when you sigh in relief.

He almost pulls all the way out, then rams into you roughly, making you exhale sharply as the table shakes upon impact. The few tools laid out shuddered until they stilled. Give or take a few more times of this, and he finally releases his hand on your head, but you still opt to keep your head down.

The rhythm he has is a little awkward at first, but he is quick to course correct, both hands firmly planted on your hips, keeping you steady. You can’t see his face right now, but you’ve seen it plenty of times when you’ve fucked before. How his mouth would go into that ‘o’ shape, and the way his eyes would go half mast, holding nothing but a glimpse of paradise behind him as you could see that he was as close to heaven as his wicked self could get. You were beautiful to him, as far as sacks of flesh and blood went. And you could tell the times that he looked at you in such a predatory manner that there was restraint behind it.

You feel the pressure build up within you at a steady rate as he leans over you, chest pressed against your back, sucking on your neck, marking you. Then he nips. Then kisses, then sucks so goddamn hard on the same spot that you swear that he’s trying to suction your flesh right off your body.

It doesn’t take long for you to be so close. He’s so warm. The sound of his body slapping against yours, mixed with the creak of the workbench that’s forced to undergo the assault of you being rammed into it, a few quiet moans slip past your lips to join along.

You’re unbearably close, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, just a little more and—

Your phone goes off.

You forgot to silence it.

You feel it vibrating in the pocket of your dress. The ringtone scares the shit out of you and Art, who abruptly jumps a little while still on top of you.

“Of course.” You say sarcastically. “Of course! Who the fuck is calling me?!” You’re irritated now, mood under threat of being ruined. The excitement you felt shrivels up.

Reaching inside your hiked up dress pocket, you pull out your phone and check to see who had the audacity to try and get a hold of you in your time of undoing.

Your friend. Sort of. He was like a close acquaintance? If you could call him that. You met him when you were out and about one night. He’s an okay dude, hasn’t done anything wrong.

If only he didn’t harbor a romantic interest in you when you were already spoken for. But how could you begin to tell someone that you’re involved with a psychopathic killer clown? Specifically the Miles County Clown?

You’re ready to send him right to voicemail, until the phone is seized right out of your hand from over your shoulder.

“Hey!”

Your protest is in vain, as Art too, looks at who is calling you right now. You had HOPED he’d take a look at it, have his curiosity sated, maybe turn the phone off or better yet, you’d even forgive him if he tossed it over his shoulder, just this once!

But the look he’s giving you, then the phone, makes your heart sink as you realize.

“Art, don’t do it—“

His expression turns wicked, mouth upturned into the most shiteating grin you’ve ever seen.

“Art, I swear to god—“

But god’s not here, nowhere to be found in this workshop. God’s forsaken you. Doing the devils tango with a demon can do that.

Giggling silently to himself, in an act of deliberate defiance against you as well as likely for his very own amusement, he accepts the phone call for you and places it right to your ear.

What a gentleman. Truly.

You’re going to fucking kill him. You try to take the phone away from him, but he merely pulls it back out of your reach.

“Hello?”

You can hear the voice on the other end of the line. Art brings it down to your ear again and you try to make a reach for it a second time, only for him to do the exact same thing as before, silently cackling all the while. It’s become apparent that he’s not going to let you have it.

“Hellooooo?”

With a resigned sigh, you don’t fight him any further. Art puts the phone to your ear for the third time.

“Hey.” You answer wearily.

“Hey!” His voice on the other end of the line is suddenly lighter, filled with levity. You can hear the way that his breath is hitched in the back of his throat. Static tinges at the edges of his words. Must be a shoddy connection down here.

“How are you?”

“I’m–” You start to answer, but are interrupted by Art going back to rocking his hips into you while still over you. Once again, you look over your shoulder to give him the stink eye.

“I’m good, just uh, you know. Hanging out.” You respond, exhaling deeply as Art stirs the fire within you again after it had just begun to cool down.

“Nice, me too.” He says, and lets the silence between you both sink in for a few seconds. “You doing anything tomorrow?”

This would all be so much easier if you weren’t getting dicked down.

“I… I’m uh–”

He’s pounding into you from behind now, still leaning over you, holding the phone for you in one hand and keeping the other on the workbench for stability. Each fluid roll of his hips is equally tantalizing as the previous, his body connecting with yours in such a familiar way you craved. The table shakes, and you’re gripping the edges of it for dear life. You can hear his heavy breath from behind you, excitement building in each time he fills and empties his lungs.

“Art–” You say his name through grit teeth like a warning, with annoyance in your tone, but the excitement you feel, the rush and the thrill of it all has you coming close to release. Why does this feel so good? This man, this sweet man, who has done nothing wrong to you, interested in you, blissfully unaware that your heart belongs to someone else, being fooled like this. It’s wrong. This is wrong. Art knew about this man. He knew about him for some time. Art made it clear that he hated him. The only reason he’s still breathing is because you asked Art not to put this man’s head on a pike, but you fear it’s only a matter of time until your clown lover eviscerates this trespasser for encroaching on what he perceives as his territory–you.

“Art?" He repeats.

This is all an act of revenge done on the Art’s part. His pettiness knew no bounds.

“Yeah, art. You know–Mhn–” Your nails dig into the edge of the workbench as if that’ll somehow make a difference in the fact that he’s pounding into your cunt with such an aggressive force that begins to make you ache.

“You know, p-painting? Drawing. That sort of thing.”

You can only pray the ungodly sinful noises of his skin slapping against yours can’t be heard over the line.

“Ohhh… Well, hey, you wanna hangout sometime soon? It’s been a bit. Wanted to catch up with you if that’s fine.”

You’re not paying attention to a damn thing this dude is saying. It’s just words, in one ear, straight out the other.

“Uhuh.” You say without thinking. You’re close. You’re unbearably close as Art angles himself in such a way that hits just right. He knows how you work all too well. He knows how to unwind you and how to pull you apart piece by piece like it’s second nature to him.

Art’s pushing you towards the cliff, and there’s no stopping it. Your vision starts to blur a little. Your breathing deepens, and Art knows what’s about to come next, which only seems to spur him on as well, exciting him to the point where now he’s going fast not just for you, but for himself, chasing his own orgasm hot on its heels.

“How’s about next Thursday, at 7pm? There’s a new restaurant across the street from where we both met—“

The phone becomes nothing short of white noise. This shouldn’t feel so right, it shouldn’t. But it does. Gods above, it does.

You feel yourself lose sense of the world around you. There’s nothing but ringing in your ears, and you realize how little time you have to prepare before it’s too late.

Your orgasm crashes into you and is ripped out of you all within seconds. You try to keep quiet, your voice strangled and choked out in the process. Your release is violent as it tears you between what feels like the state of life and death. Your cunt tightens around his cock, squeezing him in contractions that trigger him in turn. Art hisses like a serpent, feeling his muscles lock up and knowing that he only has a few seconds to bury himself to the hilt within you, and he does. His face twists into an ugly and horrid expression as he comes inside you, dropping the phone on the workbench in the process while filling you with all the pent up energy he had been keeping away from you for months.

All of what he’d been denying you was now yours.

“Hello?”

You’re finally coming back into your own body a few meager seconds later when you register the voice, and hurriedly grab the phone before Art gets the chance.

“Can I call you back?” You ask, holding the phone to your mouth, but you weren’t really asking. Your friend had no real say in it, and before he even gets the chance to respond, you hang up. And then you lower your head and sigh. All the while, Art has since recovered, but his legs are shaky. You shove him off of you, and he stumbles back with an uneven balance, post orgasm weakened. Goofily he fumbles past the stool from earlier, which he tries to grab but fails in doing so. Instead, he lands right on his ass.

You’re sure to follow that up by throwing your phone at his head, which it does, but it lands with a clack right beside him. The only reason you felt remotely confident in doing that is because you’re both that close. Well, that and irritation made you a bold motherfucker sometimes. Yet despite all of that, he sits there, a wickedly amused smile on his face.

You pull your dress back down. Your legs tingle and you swear you feel some of his come dripping down your thigh, but you’re not sure.

“Proud of yourself, huh?” You ask, leaning against the bench for balance until you get your footing.

Yes. Yes he was proud of himself!

The rest of the night was spent at Art’s temporary hideaway space, lamenting the loss of your panties and calling back your guy friend who had unknowingly been part of something much more than he knew. And you’d never tell him. Not that you would ever have the chance to tell him really anything at all anymore in the future.

You had no idea at the time that Art would meet your friend the day you were both set to reconvene. But you should have known better, and a part of you already did. The reason you know he was dead was because he ended up on the local news the next day missing.

That, and Art had saved the man’s heart specifically for you when you came to visit him again.

#art the clown #terrifier #art the clown x you #art the clown x reader #slasher x you #slasher x reader #x reader

545 notes · View notes