#first attempt at gifs i still learning
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I need you more than you'll ever know. Still do, willing to let it show. I need a minute just to get to you. I feel like I might be getting through.
#butcher x hughie#butchie#this one was my first attempt doing text overlay#still very new to making gifs and learning a lot#but I am pretty proud with the little things I've done so far#looking forward to learning and doing much more#âą BUTCHER âą musings.#;; BUTCHER ;; self ; visage.#;; BUTCHER x HUGHIE ;; otp.#;; KUROKI ;; my gifs.
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â MY SHORTY ALWAYS ON SOME BULLSHIT LIKE CHICAGO â
PART 3
part of the 420 'We Be Burnin' series
â MENU ITEM: PLUG!CHOSO x SORORITYBRAT!READER â PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 (IN STOCK!!!)
â product description (summary): choso's finally had enough and if you won't listen to reason he will fuck it into you. but will you still choose him in the end or will he make that choice for you? â side effects (tw): THE LONG AWAITED BRAT TAMING! rough sex. throat goat!reader. more angst. spanking ass/puss. teasing. edging. lots of delayed pleasure. jealousy. cunnalingus. mirror sex. dom!choso. breeding kink. dirty talk. backshots. fingering. squirting. daddy kink. thigh riding. nuru/thigh fucking. intoxicated reader. drug use (weed). slight voyeurism. yandere choso. baby trapping. mentions of violence (not towards reader). mentions of somnophilia and a lil bit of fluff. â thc levels (wc): 9.6k of 22.1k â inventory notes (a/n): best viewed in dark mode. the long awaited end! i hope you guys like it. i really worked hard on this to make it good <3 special shout outs to my betas @littlemochabunni for literally always talking me off the ledge when i want to ctrl + a+ del everything and @buttercupblu for all the grammar edits my adhd brain struggles with and inspiring me to write the last scene.
Plug!Choso who ultimately will forgive you but it will be on his terms. He just needed to show you first why the only person you should worry about pleasing was him.
Menacing chuckles rumble deep from Chosoâs chest, bewildering you in your crossfaded state. Seizing you with a firm hold, he forces you to meet his gaze. Choso holds you so tightly against him that your feet barely touch the ground.
Any attempts of wriggling out of his hold are in vain.
âYouâre such a fucking slut.â
His matter-of-fact statement makes you frown. Youâre taken aback by the twisted amusement on his face.
âYou donât love me⊠You love my cock.â
âN-No Iââ
Your already short skirt now bunches above your hips and Choso brings a heavy hand down onto your exposed bottom. The sting brings fresh tears to your eyes as the gems on your fishnets leave distinct impressions on your soft, malleable skin.
âYouâll have to learn to be quiet while daddyâs talking, princess.â
If you were going to act like a childish brat, Choso would treat you like one.
Another harsh spank startles you into hiccups as you sniff away fallen tears.Â
Youâd never been spanked beforeânot by previous lovers or boyfriendsâhell not even your parents growing up.Â
The last person youâd expect it from was Choso.
And yet each swift lick Choso deals you is as terrifying as it is exhilarating.Â
Who knew you would be such a glutton for punishment?Â
You fidget, biting your lip in anticipation of another.Â
âBeen thinkinâ princessâIâve been too good to you. But you donât want that, eh?â
A third smack has you whimpering. Your pelvic muscles clench hard, releasing more of the desperation that had already saturated your thighs.
âYou want one of those assholes outside, is that right? Theyâre good enough for you, huh princess?â
You can only mewl in response from the delightful pain that pierces your senses as he delivers another and another.
âSâwhy every time I fuckinâ come round yâer being a lilâcocktease for some preppy ass frat fuck.â
Choso wasnât wrong.Â
You knew what those boys wanted from you.
Even though you had never really entertained any of them. That was the allure in itselfâto be something unattainable.Â
Yet more selfishly, you liked the attention. Not like youâd even got the same thrill from it anymore since you were with Chosoâbut old habits die hard.
Choso was making damn sure of that now.
âTryna get one of them to fuck you tonightââ
Chosoâs cock twitches in sync with your trembles from every spank.
ââor were you hoping I was finally gonna put that pretty princess pussy of yours in her place?âÂ
Youâre smart enough to know Chosoâs question is rhetorical and how could it not be given all your actions tonight?Â
It was clear you wanted him and his deliciously fat cock backâbadly.Â
Your tongue cautiously peeks out as you try to quiet your shuddering breaths, afraid that any small movement might provoke his anger. At this point you know better than to beg too, almost certain that any attempts would only fuel the unexpected mean streak Choso had developed.
Yet despite any initial apprehension you were quickly becoming puddy in his hands.
âPoor baby, working so hard having to appease everyoneââÂ
SMACK!
ââwell you ainât gotta worry that bratty head of yours no moreâseeing as you wonât be doing none of that shit from now on.âÂ
His threats which should have you cussing him out only make you wetter as your heart pounds in your ears from the thrill of being dominated. Youâd do anything right now to get a little relief for your aching cunt that had gone a whole goddamn month without Chosoâs thick cock plugging her up.Â
Restless in arousal, your entire being just begs to be fucked.Â
Releasing your hair Choso parts your legs with his knee and you collapse onto him, your plump pussy colliding with his thigh. You whimper, tightly gripping his broad shoulders for leverage to rock yourself against his thigh.Â
Choso could feel the intensity of the moist heat radiating from your core dampening his jeans.
âShit, I can feel you dripping⊠pussy drooling just from getting that ass spanked a lilââare you a masochist, princess?â
Choso breathes the question into your ear, his words bringing a chill over your skin fanning goosebumps all the way down to the nape of your neck.
Youâre losing yourself all the more in the hypnotic state of lust swirling from alcohol, weed, pain and arousal clashing within you.Â
You nearly choke on the deep guttural moans that had been held in by his hand still around your throat when he grabs your hips forcibly rocking you harder against him. Your paper-thin thong does nothing to protect you from the rough threadbare material of his jeans grinding against your sensitive lil nub.Â
âWearing these slutty tights with an ass like yoursâŠâÂ
You almost forget to breathe, the sting this time accompanied by him sliding his fingers between the gaps in the material and grabbing the fat of your ass for emphasis.
â...coulda got me in so much shit tonight if I made olâboy who was touchinâ up on you swallow teeth.â
The baritone in his voice lowers to a deadly note, tuning every nerve in your body to the exact pitch of his voice.
âP-Please C-Cho Iââ
âin an instant the hand on your hip coils around your neck.Â
Thumbing your collarbone, Choso slowly applies just enough pressure to activate the euphoric sensation of suffocation, sending tingles down your spine.
âLook at me princess, you better stay quietâmânot gonna say it again.â
You choke back a cry as the elastic on your fishnets snaps against your tender skin when Choso removes his hand from them.
âBut then your lilâcard got pulled when you saw me with that whore, hmm?â
You wince preemptively expecting another hard spanking but Choso loosens his grip around your throat. He looks at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.
A sniffly frown complements the pitifulness of your runny makeup as you cling to him possessively.Â
âY-Yeah⊠I-I hated seeing that d-dumb bitch all over you. Wanted to fuck her up.â
Choso is satisfied with your answer but the warmth behind his smile didnât match the heated glint in his eyes.
âThere it is. See? Bratty princesses who are honest get rewardedââ
Any relief you feel is short lived as your despair returns with the words that follow.
ââeventually.â
Plug!Choso who has you so close to release just from rutting against his brawny thigh. Yet just as you feel the hot coil about to snap in your stomach he pulls away from you.Â
Wobbling for stability, your panic that he would leave again subsides when he returns to sit on your bed.
Choso leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees to pack another bowl. The process is second nature to him and his hands move with an instinctual precision, allowing his oppressively dark gaze to remain fixed to you.
âStrip.â
Itâs a rather simple command but it causes a small malfunction in your brain nonetheless.Â
Your intuition is simultaneously screaming at you to be a âgood girlâ and listen to Choso so heâd finally fuck youâbut also to get the hell away from the menacing man before you were actually fucked.
Chosoâs shift in his nature was setting off every internal alarmâalthough at the same time, you couldnât say this still didnât feel like Choso.
Was it really new?Â
Or was this side just new to you?Â
Youâd only ever really known the gentle boyish side of Choso. The side who would blush easily and that was so willing to do anything to please youâthe side that was a dutiful and loving brother.
But this other side?Â
Well, he was a dealer.
Youâd never heard of Choso getting caught out or punked in the streetsânot even once.Â
You also never knew how he conducted his business, as he always stepped out of the car or left the room. When he took a call while you were with him, all you could hear were faint murmurs of conversation over the rumbling bass of music or through a well-insulated door.
You knew he did his best to keep that side away from you and Yuji, as it wasnât always pretty.Â
Instantly you recalled how once when you had slept over he reluctantly left in the middle of the night late saying he had âbusinessâ to take care of. When he came home hours later he looked worn down and even more tired than usual. His knuckles were swollen and there was a rip with small dots of blood on his collar which you would have thought was his own if not for there not being a single scratch on him.
He didnât speak of what happened and you couldnât fuss over his appearance for too longâyour mind being far from inquisitive while blubbering from his cock drilling your body deep into the mattress. You blissfully became a fleshlight of relief for all his frustrations that night until long after sunrise.Â
In fact, Choso had dicked you down so thoroughly when you finally made it out of bed that day it was mid-afternoon. You didnât even question him about the bruises lingering on his knuckles or whose blood he had on himâstill in a daze off his cock.
So this must be how he is in the streets.Â
âGo on now, princess.â
The deep silky dominance in his tone commanded your attention, jarring you from your thoughts. Youâre pouting, but your body, in spite of your more rational mind, wins as it compels you to obey him, convincing you that anything he has planned for you would be well worth the pleasure that follows.Â
Slowly, you begin to lift up your tiny pink top when Chosoâs eyes narrow in disapproval, stopping you.
âNuh-uh seeâthat shit right there won't cut it.â
Youâre puzzled. You did exactly as he asked.
âYou didnât think I saw my lilâ slut playing beer pong and teasing those shitheads with my tiddies? Now do it for meâthe same fuckinâ way.â
Youâre nodding but your delicate hands are nevertheless shaking under his intense smolder.
Swallowing your anxiety and mimicking your earlier actions, you bent towards him. Your chest is lightly heaving by the time your nails begin to slowly drag the hem of the sparkly top down over your breasts. Choso is blatantly palming his cock when you give the final tug that has your tits bouncing forth from their confines, fully exposed to him.
Choso hums in approval, satisfied with your performance. He motions with a finger for you to come to him and you canât close the distance fast enough to stand between his legs.Â
Molding your hips in his large hands, Choso brings you even closer. Parting his lips the smoke tendrils fan over your stomach while his mouth hovers over your skin.Â
Choso looks back up at you and your belly dips, quivering at his dangerously seductive eyes and mischievous grin.Â
You were nervousâgood.
âKnees.â
Plug!Choso who has you shamelessly panting on your knees before him. Not caring for any decorum at this point youâre openly salivating as hearts practically dance in your eyes over his engorged cock throbbing inside his jeans.
Choso releases a whiny hiss when the air hits his swollen glands. His length sways weighted down as an embarrassing amount of pre drips off his reddened shaft, his boxers already soiled.Â
In your right state of mind you might have used this to shift back the power dynamicsâyet alas, you are far too gone now. The need for him to give you his praise and approval winning out over any inklings of sass or disobedience.Â
Your attention is all but zeroed in on how those milky pearls dribbled over his albert piercing and down the thick vein on the underside of his length.
Seeing how your mouth watered just from the sight of his cock, itâs Choso who proves to be the more impatient one as he grips the back of your head with one hand forcing you closer. In his haste, his dick misses your mouth and skids across your cheek, prompting a low growl of curses from Choso.Â
Unconcerned with his impatience, youâre still in your own worldâand that world in question was currently being filled with the carnal smell of Chosoâs scent marking your skin. A long stain of pre smearing across your face mind shuts down now solely driven by your needy cunt.
âIâll forgive you when you show me how sorry you areââ
ââanything!âÂ
Quickly snapping out of your dickmatized daze you look up at him with doe eyes, begging for the go-ahead.
âYeah? Then do it nasty for me, princess.âÂ
The words have scarcely left Chosoâs lips before youâre already parting your own, releasing a viscous well of drool to pour languidly on his dick.
Your saliva mixing with his spilled essence coats his cock and fills the room with vulgar squelches as you obediently pump his hot length. You rotate your grip with a sinful precision while your other hand thumbs his gooch as youâre cupping his balls, kneading them in a manner that had Chosoâs toes curling.Â
Giving thanks for the meal you are about to consume, you never break eye contact as you deliver pillowy kisses to his tip and strum your tongue under his frenulum. Chosoâs abs twitch feverishly when the sultry hollow of your mouth lewdly hums over his piercing. The sounding effect alone is nearly enough to make him bust right then.Â
You arenât holding up well yourself either as your thighs squeeze together soaking your fishnets which had long been sticky with your overflowing arousal. Manifesting that it soon would be the moist suction of your vacant cunt and not of your spit glossed lips that would take him whole as you continue to moan wantonly around his girth.
The memory alone didnât do your mouth justice to Choso, not that he still didnât cum plenty from thinking of your lips slobbering around him in the last month.
Fuck if you didnât always give some crazy ass head though.
However, he knows he has to keep control lest he loses all the progress he made training that lilâ attitude of yours tonight.Â
Weaving his muscular hands through your hair, in one swift motion Choso thrusts his hips forward. He groans loudly from your warm gummy throat now stuffed full with his cock. Gargling his girth you choke when Chosoâs piercing scrapes the back of your throat as he forcibly bobs your head up and down.
Thick tears burn your vision with your running mascara flowing right down your full cheeks. But it's nothing compared to the fiery burn in your cunt thatâs even more jealous than before of your throat getting the treatment it needs so desperately.
âYouâre gonna be my good girl from now on? Yeah baby, I knowâI know ya are. Now open that throatpussy a lil wider for me, got sumâ for it.â
Heart fluttering at his filthy praises, you easily let him coerce your face flush to his pubic bone to take him to the very hilt. Your nose is buried in his dark pubic hair and his balls slap your chin at every thrust. The harsh treatment has your tears mingling with his fluids to coat your face and stain his jeans.Â
This is how you should be.Â
Obedient and pretty while your sobs vibrate around his cock destroying your throat. All you had to do was worry about taking care of himâin turn he would take care of you and the rest.
Shit though, going so long without your bratty little mouth around his dick Choso wasnât about to last too much longer.Â
His blunted nails dig into your scalp as he hunches, curling over your body from the sloppy way he plows even deeper into you.Â
âYouâre gonna take all of it princess. Every last bit, understood?â
Choso takes your unintelligible gurgles and the hands shoving against his thighs as confirmation. A needy grunt is followed by jets of his creamy load spurting down your esophagus.
Teeming with adrenaline, you gasp for air. Your lungs are on fire from sputtering up his tangy spunk that somehow even trickled into your windpipes. Chosoâs fluids dribble down your chin, a show of proof from you having milked his cock so thoroughly.Â
But you're not angry with him for the rough treatmentâon the contrary.Â
Once your coughs subside youâre gazing up at Choso like an innocent lamb and not the nasty throat goat you just proved yourself to be. Praying you have been enough of a good girl for him to finally fuck your lilâ cunt as hard as you needed.
Plug!Choso who rewards you with gentle strokes that smooth your hair back and caress your flushed cheeks stained with his spunk.
Keeping true to his promise of every last bit, Choso thumbs the remaining salty fluids soiling your face back into your mouth, dumping the excess onto your tongue that greedily slurps it down.
Satisfied, Choso straightens and beckons you onto his lap with a pat to his thigh. Smirking at your enthusiasm as you clumsily settle in.Â
âNow doesnât it feel niceâŠbeing a good girl for once?â
Choso affectionately twirls your hair in his fingers and you bob your head eagerly.Â
Your lips are mere centimeters apart.
You want to kiss him but Choso doesnât feel like you earned that just yet, balling his fist to tug your locks taunt when you lean in.
âNot yet, baby.â
You stick your lip out, fussing in aroused frustration.Â
âTskânow, now none of that shit, brats donât get kissesâand they certainly donât get this dick.â
If the look in his eyes were any indication you knew Choso meant business. The searing eye contact had long incinerated all the walls youâd built to keep him out, exposing the very essence of you laid bare in the ashes.Â
You have no more defenses against him, becoming more obedient to his every word.
Seconds pass that seem like achingly brutal hours until he breaks the staredown. His sights now follow his hands as they splay out trailing from your collarbone to your breasts, letting them weigh heavy in his palms.
His lecherous scrutiny has you shivering.
âYou let anyone touch these?â
The question startles you as does the sensation of Choso rolling your stiffened peaks between his knuckles before giving them a cruel tug.Â
You sniffle as you shake your head ânoâ, trying not to whine and still unable to speak from him pounding your vocal cords raw.Â
Choso grins knowingly as his hands fondle your plush mounds, kneading the supple flesh and pushing them together before the steamy cavern of Chosoâs mouth consumes both at once. The bar of his pierced tongue swirled between your hardened buds, lapping, slurping and nibbling. Squirming you arch back deeper into his mouth and grind your soaked lil cunny on his rapidly stiffening length. Your hands cling to his pigtails for any semblance of an anchor keeping you from tumbling backwards.Â
Spurred on by your shuddering cries Choso withdraws from your swollen peaks with a pop and licks up the string of spit that cobwebs between them. His tongue flattens licking each one dutifully as he watches as your jaw slacks from pleasure.
Youâve been so deprived of his touch. You could cum from just a bit more of this.
Yet Chosoâs lips donât stop traveling your body, even higher this time to adorn your decolletage with searing hickies.Â
Uncaring if they actually showed up to brand your skin or not.
Choso only needs you to feel them bruise beneath your flesh.
That way you wouldnât so soon forget exactly who you belonged to.
âAnd what about my bratty lilâ pussy, princess? I know how needy she is. You let one of those frat fuckers inside her?â
His hot heady breaths puff out to curl around your earlobe, leaving the severely neglected spot in between your thighs throbbing at her mention.Â
You think you might actually die if he ignores your cunt for much longer.Â
Your thong is utterly drenched. More arousal trickles onto his lap as his muscular hands settle back on your hips.Â
âN-no!â
Sounding more like a croaked plea, your voice is barely above a whisper from the hoarseness that settled in your throat.
âW-Waited f-for you Cho.âÂ
âThen show me.â
Plug!Choso who has you even more intoxicated off the thought of him giving you a pussy inspection.Â
He has nearly succeeded in domesticating you and your arms wrap around him submissively as you moan unabashedly into his neck.Â
Choso muses he should have handled your snobby ass like this sooner and saved himself some trouble.Â
Lifting you, Choso rises from the bed.Â
You havenât realized youâve moved at all until you crash into the edge of your vanity, shaking the table with a thud. Rattled, you look back, giving Choso the leverage he needs to spin you around. Dizzy from the sudden movement, your arms fly outâscattering bottles of makeup and perfume as you grasp at the wooden tabletop.Â
The items roll on the floor in tandem with Choso rolling his hips up against you. You release a loud mewl from his hard erection teasingly poking into your ass.
Thinking only with your pussy, your impatient pleas are met with another slap to the ass. The increased weight behind his hand this time leaves your nerve endings sizzling.Â
You were gonna be such a sweet girl by the time he was done with you.
However, he wouldnât torture you for too much longer.Â
Despite his cold authoritarian demeanor, the image of shoveling his cock deep into your creamy cunny after so long of only jerking to the memory has him about to lose it. Grasping the front of your hips, Choso jerks you flush against his pelvis. You fall forward until your cheekbone is smooshed into the vanityâs mirror and his thick bulge molding itself in-between your cheeks
âStay just like that for me, yeah baby? Hands on the mirror, they better not fuckinâ leave either.â
You position your hands obediently and Choso, as if praising you, tenderly gifts lustful kisses down your spine while he pampers your reddening bottom with gentle caresses.Â
âGood fuckinâ girl, princess.â
The more feral his nature, the more like his prey you became. Choso licentiously inspects your bodyâgripping, sniffing, and nipping at your heated skin until he is level with your ass.Â
You whimper as Choso rips your fishnets ripping them open, admiring the indents on your skin from the jeweled tights before burying his face between your squishy cheeks.Â
His nose salaciously nuzzles against the soaked material stuck to your barely covered hole and he releases a hot guttural sigh, purring into your pussy.Â
Always a fiend for dining on your cunt, Choso is brimming with contentment from your juices leaking onto his face. This may have been your punishment but it was also his reward as the taste of your filthy lil plum never failed to drive him wildâoften opting to spend most of the night with his face between your hips, heâd still cum plenty times from just thrusting into the air as he let you ride his face.
Licking his lips, Chosoâs tongues traces the pattern of your thong and sucks your juices from the saturated fabric. Youâre both loudly moaning nowâChoso from the saccharine flavor of your cunt and you from the sweet relief of the hot languid strokes of his skillful tongue.
Choso might have lost himself in that moment of finally getting to taste you again. His eyes roll back at how you lewdly leak through your soaked thong.
All for him.Â
You were still his even after all this time.
However, it's your own hastiness that reminds him your penance is worth more than his own pleasure when your ass wiggles impatiently lowering onto his face when Chosoâs tongue piercing starts drawing lazy circles around your sensitive lil pearl.
âC-Cho, n-need youâŠpuh-lease sânot fairââ
Determined to control every sensation he gives to you and holding you in place, Choso scolds you.
âFair? Nah, know whatâs not fair, princess?â
His lips move closer to ghost over your ass causing goosebumps to rise over the warm tender skin.
âYou actin like a bitch for a whole fuckinâ month and keeping all this good pussy away from me.â
You shudder when his teeth sink into your jiggly flesh causing you to yelp and rock against the vanity.
Youâd get more pleasure when he wanted you to.Â
Choso would screw that lesson into you soon enough.Â
âFuckâthe only thing sweet about you is this lilâ pussy. Youâre such a brat but she's so honest. Then againâmaybe it's your slutty lilâ pussy thatâs actually the brat, thinking she runs shit because of how good she is at milking cock, yeah?â
Choso confirms his suspicions upon peeling your soaked thong to the side. Strings of your arousal practically glue the material to your cunt. Not hesitating to make more of a mess of you, he illicitly hawks globes of his spit into your already dripping lilâ hole eagerly winking at him.
âLetâs see what this slutty cunt has to say for herself, hm?â
Choso places a chaste kiss over your entrance before driving two fingers straight in. Your hands leave streaks down the mirror as you perspire, fogging up the glass with your breathy cries.
Speeding up his pace he digs the pads of his fingers into your walls, searching until they run over a spongy hard spot and he has to fight to keep a hand on your lower back to hold you in place.
God you were virgin-tight again.Â
Before ignoring you, Choso had only ever gone three days without fucking you and even then youâd been crying from his tip just stretching the entrance of your taut lil pussy.Â
In the past, Choso would have taken his time with you. He knew he needed to work you open more so you wouldnât be sore tomorrow, and yet his cock throbbed to life again so urgently he couldn't restrain himself for much longer.
Thatâd be something youâd just have to fucking deal with.Â
This was all your fault after all.Â
Plug!Choso who wouldnât let you deprive him of his pussy for any longerâhowever, he was still going to make you beg for it.
âTell me what you want, princess.â
Choso rips the thong clean off your ass cheeks.Â
Leaving you exposed bare in your fishnets he rises up to lean over you. His moist breath trickles electricity down your spine as his bricked length roughly pipes between your cheeks.Â
âNghhâŠw-want your c-cockâŠâ
âWhose cockâso you know me now, princess?âChoso is that it?âÂ
Choso mocks your voice with the hurtful words you hurled at him during the garden brunch. Gliding his girth to prod over your entrance and miss its mark intentionally.Â
âPleeaseeeâC-Choso-C-Choso-C-Choso.âÂ
The pleas of his name slur together as your attention solely focuses on how his leaky shaft lathers your already dripping folds in his pre.Â
âThatâs right princessâŠnow tell me who am I to you?â
Choso reaches around to swat at your swollen clit.Â
You cry out as your body slick with sweat jolts up violently. Choso has to throw more of his weight onto you to keep you from slipping off the vanity entirely.
You could have actually fallen to the floor without noticing as the fuzzy feeling in your brain intensifies, too much is happening all at once. Your intoxicated thoughts swirl in its attempt to work out the finer details of your relationship with Chosoâdetails you likely wouldn't have been able to answer even while completely sober.
Who was Choso to you? Â
Well, frankly, right now he was technically nothing. You had never previously defined your relationship and hadnât had any communication at all over the last month until just a few days ago.
Your dealer? Friend? Casual hookup? Situationship?Â
By and large, it had been your fault that youâd never discussed it. You actively ran from any complicated conversations or pulled away whenever Choso proposed something that would be too close to affirming your status.Â
You also knew how much Choso liked you, especially from how heâd blush when other parents in Yujiâs class would mistake the two of you for a couple.Â
You werenât a couple thoughâeven if you acted like you were behind closed doors.Â
Even so, you knew how he made you feel when you were with him and knew what you wanted him to be to you now.Â
That was enough.
Goddamnit.
Your body threatens to explode from the vulnerability of your exposed emotions pricking at your every nerve while you work up the courage to say it.Â
This admission was somehow even harder than confessing you loved himâwhich had honestly been relatively easy in comparison as you were so upset you would have done anything at that moment to make him stay.Â
Face on fire, you clasp your eyes shutâas if not looking at Choso in the mirror means he somehow canât hear the words that stumble out of you.
âM-My boyfriend!â
Silent tears fall as you fear his reaction, youâve never been the one to lay your feelings on the line first.
Had you really missed your chance to be with him?
Would he just fuck you and leave after?
Choso remains silent as his hands glide up your sides, feeling you tremble under his touch. He lifts your torso, pulling you to his chest possessively. Chosoâs arms encircle you as they weave between your breasts and he licks a stray tear away.Â
Now you have the most lewd, yet perfectly unhindered, view of his hefty mushroom tip as it quickly slots through your puffed folds to ram into your clit.
The wide grin on his features is evident as your face crumples and pleasurable sobs rupture from you. Choso rests the side of his face against your neck as he takes in your smell, giving you a chaste kiss and savoring how much his body is scenting yours.
âOh? You asking me out, princess? Well, Iâm flattered you finally asked, but that's not exactly the answer I was looking forââ
A feverish chill spreads across your skin and youâre shivering as he locks eyes with you in the mirror.
ââas itâs certainly not what you will be calling me when Iâm pushing your kidneys back.â
Chosoâs hands lazily roam your body while he continues to sneak his length through your thighs. You unconsciously arch back to rest your nape on his shoulder, allowing him better access to touch you.
So he wasnât talking about your relationship status after all?!Â
Still the devious smile on Chosoâs face tells you he intentionally misled you with his phrasing nonetheless.Â
âSoâwho am I?â
The cocky tone in his voice makes it clear exactly what he wants you to call himâand youâd say itâyou just need to work up the nerve first.
Unfortunately for you Chosoâs patience for your bratty ass had long since depleted.
âTch, yo we can stop then ifââ
You snapped the moment you felt his hands leave you.
âNO, DADDY!âÂ
âIâll be a good girl DaddyâŠsâgood. I-I promise puh-leaseee put it inâpleaseâneed you, Daddy!â
There was no way in hell Choso would have left without sticking his dick in you but he knew that you were too hard up right now to even dream of calling his bluff.
âThatâs right princess. Iâm your Daddy. Now show Daddy that arch baby.â
Plug!Choso who smirks into your skin as he tastes you. The sting from a tiny love bite blossoming as he manhandles you back down onto the tableâs surface when your already cockdrunk mind doesnât have you moving fast enough.
âBut youâre still actinâ up a lil babyâso you gonna have to put this dick in yourself, got it?â
Choso hums at your dizzy babbles of confirmation, slipping his thumbs over your chubby pussy lips to spread you open. Choso is in awe of how slutty your cunt looked, clenching around nothing but the webs of your own arousal and practically screaming to be busted open wider by his cock.
Catching his tip on your entrance, Choso stalls as he has to chew the inside of his own cheek to resist not thrusting into you completelyâyouâd do the rest from here.Â
Choso was just glad you weren't looking in the mirror to see how hard his abs were trembling.Â
Exhaling shaky breaths, you ease back onto him, gingerly sinking down his length. Your kitten nails fitfully scratch at the table just from the stretch of just getting his wide mushroom tip inside.Â
SHIIIIT-SHIIIT-SHIIITâToo much!Â
You grit your teeth, heâs so big stretching the walls of your cunt to the degree that your walls actually try to push him out when you flex. However, Chosoâs hands are digging into your hips to secure you in place. Heâs not helping nor hindering youâbut he isnât letting you run any either.
Your knees knock against the vanity, trembling this much and he's only halfway in.Â
âCome on, princessâŠâ
Choso coos gently as he rubs circles into the small of your back with his thumbs, coaxing you to relax.Â
The dichotomy between Chosoâs treatment erratically switching in severity leaves you reeling. You're on edge with heightened arousal, never sure if his next words or touch would be rough or soothing yet either way it leaves you wanting more of himâanything heâd give, youâd take.Â
But right now you need him to have a lil mercy on you.Â
Tears brim your wide eyes as you pout and look at him through the mirror, pleading with him.
âPuh-leaseeee ChoâmâdaddyâŠhelp me?â
Your pitiful submission has Choso cracking. His need to ruin you after so long winning over his want to delay your pleasure along with everything else.
Sighing, Choso relents.
âYou know, I spoil you too much, princessâŠsâwhy youâre so rotten now.â
No sooner had he finished speaking did he hastily slam into you. Your wet warmth completely sucks him in whole and wraps around him so sinfully he has to dig his blunted nails deeper into your hips to keep from immediately painting your walls white.
God, he really was so incredibly weak for your perfect lilâ pussy.
Grunting, Choso sets an unrelenting tempo as he continues to rail into your cervix, each bruising thrust was him reminding you of every time you ignored himâpretended you didnât know himâtold people you were just friendsâand for making him even love someone as mean and bratty as you in the first place.
Grabbing onto the clothing bunched at your waist for leverage, Choso pistoning his hard length in and out of you felt like he was ripping your guts out along with it.Â
Gathering together a coherent thought right now was impossible. Itâs so good but so intense your body reflexively reaches a hand back, frantically pressing against his abs to slow him.
Choso growls, stilling your hand behind your back while his other springs out to pin your head on the table.Â
You were blocking his view of how your ass rippled every time he pounds his cock deeper into your cunt.
He just needed you to be good and take it.Â
And take it you did.
Choso fucks you so hard your vanity table creaks and repeatedly slams into your wall causing the entire room to shake. Your mind goes blank as if his cock controls the very flow of blood in your body. Surging tingling sensations electrifying your veins when the curve of his length knocks his albert piercing so aggressively against your cervix.Â
Your gooey walls build up so much pressure around his thickness that white spots edge your vision so very close to your nirvana.
âDonât even think about cumming until I say so my slutty lilâ princessâhold that shit for daddy.â
But there was no way you couldnât and just as you are at the very edge of your bliss Choso rips it away from you, halting once again to still inside of you.
âMmmm no please-please-puhleeease let me cum Choso! Please fuck me right Daddy!âÂ
Plug!Choso, who as much as he wants to edge you past your limits, really pulled out because he also needs to calm down. Choso removes his shirt overhead as the heat in the room has skyrocketed to near sweltering.Â
Even unmoving inside you, your pussy still flexes around him like crazy. You werenât on birth control so he never came inside you, not even once before. Pulling out normally to release over your stomach, ass or tits and wearing a condom on days it wasn't as safe.Â
Although he desperately wants to cum inside you, to really mark you as his, could he risk it?Â
It would be so stupid and so irresponsible, going far beyond any punishment.Â
You still had a year of school left.
He couldn't knock you up.Â
Then again you didn't need to go to classes physicallyâyou could take them online.Â
Pushing his more debased and wicked thoughts aside, ultimately Choso reigns himself in. He didnât even want to put you in that position. Heâd support you regardless, but heâd admittedly die inside if you decided not to have his child.Â
âS-Shit! C-Cho the door!âÂ
Seeing the sliver of hallway light cast into your dimly lit room, you realize now that you must have forgotten to lock it. This was an old house and your door had the habit of coming open easily from just some minor movement in your room if left unlocked.Â
Choso fucking you like he hated you was surely enough to knock it loose. Â
Unfortunately for you though, Choso didnât give a fuck.Â
Abruptly snapped out of his perverse breeding fantasies, Chosoâs feral eyes, tinged red from his high meet your frantic ones in the mirror.
âNo.â
The renewed vigor of his cock plowing through you again strangles any protests, gagging you on them as you feel him back in your throat from the intensity.Â
âNah princess, let them all hear how hard you sob on this loserâs cock while he fucks some manners into you.â
And sob you did. It was difficult to do anything else really as him moving inside you again had your body buzzing more than from your actual high.Â
âIt doesnât matter, cause I am about to fuck you so hard even the walls downstairs start shakingââ
Chosoâs heavy balls slap against your clit when he kicks his thrusts up a notch and hitches your leg up on the vanity.Â
âânâwhen they discover us thereâs no way they will even want a cockdrunk brat who lets her âweirdo burnout stalkerâ get her high and fuck her stupid as a president.â
Your mind, clearly ruined by his dick thinks that might not actually be so bad.Â
âShit, you tightened up baby, you actually want someone to find us? See how good I slut you out, yeah?â
Honestly, the harder he thrusted inside you the less you caredâabout anything.
School.Â
The sorority.Â
Your presidency.Â
None of it made you feel anywhere near as fulfilled as you were right now with Chosoâs thick girth ripping through you.Â
The walls quake even more violently.Â
The soggy clicking sounds from your soaked cunt almost reach the volume of your crazed screams for him to fuck you even harder.Â
Choso was so fucking close again, he was beginning to lose reason.
âF-Fuck itâshould I cum in you, princess? Iâll even let you cum too this time.â
Your brain on a mission to cum, fucked so smooth by his fat cock, could care less as long as you got to cum too.Â
Oh fuck, just a lil more and you wouldâ
ââPREZ! Did you get the goods or not? We wanna start rollââ
On her phone texting, Briannaâwho is pretty fucked up herselfâdid not even register that the sex noises came from your room. Thinking Choso had left already and sure you were up here salty about her âstealing him awayâ.Â
All the color drains from Briannaâs face as she drops her phone as well as her red solo cup filled with spiked seltzer, splashing on her outfit as well as the floor.Â
Through the mirror's reflection, she can see the pleasurable agony painted all over your face from getting your cheeks clapped into oblivion by the obvious third leg Choso was packing. Your eyes to the ceiling, heaving out wails as your tongue hangs out of your mouth waging with every thrust Choso carves into your guts. The clicking sound of his cock stirring up your tight lilâ pussy echoes throughout your room.Â
âOH MY GAWD! So it was true? Youâre actually fucking him??? OHMYGAWDOGMYGAWD they arenât going to believe this!â
Cockdrunk and stupified you couldnât give even a piece of a fuck. Honestly, you wouldn't have even noticed her if Choso didnât stop again.Â
No, No, No. You were so sick of being edged! Not after he finally was going to let you cum.Â
This canât be happening right now.
You couldnât take it anymore.Â
You needed to cum so bad.Â
Your vision is blurry with moisture caught in your lashes as you push yourself up. Grasping onto the edge of the tabletop you used it as leverage to weakly fuck yourself back onto him, doing the work this time if he wouldnât.
You wouldnât let Briannaâs ass of all people prevent you from having the orgasm youâve been fiending over a fucking month for. Â
âI jushh w-wanna cum! Pleasssh, wanna-cum-wanna-cumâŠâ
You chant out shamelessly. Your desperate whines stunning both Choso and Brianna.Â
Candidly, both thought you'd be horrified enough to stop.Â
Choso especially, as even after everything tonight wouldnât have been shocked if the mortification of actually being caught had you kicking him out.
âHeh.â
Are you actually choosing him for once?
Choso wasnât going to let the moment pass without finding outâthatâs for fuckinâ sure.
The smack he delivers to your cheeks grab your attention as you bellow out more cries. Youâre still pathetically trying to get off with your weakened thrusts back. It wasnât nearly enough to get you offâbut better than the burning that threatens to incinerate you whole if you stopped.
âHey Princess, Iâll let you cum just lemme know something first, yeah?â
You nod your head longingly, dizzy with need.
âTell this bitch whose dick is this?â
For the first time that night, you answered without missing a beat.
âM-Mine mâdaddy, its m-mine!â
You pant breathlessly, still trying to rock yourself back on him but you aren't quite hitting the spot.Â
Your eyes lock with Briannaâs through the mirrorâs reflection yet you are looking straight through herâyour eyes vacant as you could only think of Chosoâs cock.Â
Your cock.
âNah donât look at that bitch, look at me princess.â
Not hesitating, your eyes snap over to him.
âGood fucking girlâand whose pussy is this?âÂ
âYouâYOU CHOSO! Please Daddyâplease it's sâgood, I need it! Please fuck me Daddy!â
Choso turns to Briana who is frozen in placeâher eyes are wider than saucersâas she realizes sheâs lost.
Reaching over you he grabs an ounce bag and tosses it near her hitting the floor by her feet. Brianna hesitates though, causing Choso to growl impatiently.Â
Heâd proved his point, now he wanted this bitch gone.
âYo Goudaâyou a voyeur or somethinâ?â
Brianna jumps when Choso addresses her quickly shaking her head ânoâ.Â
âThen get the fuck up outta here bitchâMOVE!â
In her haste, Brianna slips on the spilled alcohol as she scrambles to quickly snatch up the weed and her alcohol-soaked phone. The door slams shut as she scurries out the door.
Plug!Choso who has lost all desire to punish you. He only wants to be able to see your face twist in pleasure when he finally lets you have your sweet euphoric release.
In a flash, heâs moving you again. Choso swoops you up and tosses you onto the bed, hurriedly making sure the door is locked this time before kicking off his pants and crawling on top of you.Â
âShhhh princess, you did so good baby, mâgonna let you cum. Gonna have you creaming so hard on this cock, sâyour cock babyâyou earned it.â
Choso is slurring his words as he peppers your body with blood buzzing kisses to hush your anguished whimpers while he peels the remaining clothes off your body. Not being sheathed inside you is killing him just as much, yet he longs to touch your silky skin unimpeded against his own.
âBeen taking me sâgud baby, câmereâŠâ
The both of you now bare, Choso wastes no time plunging back into your heated core, your heels digging into his back at the intensity.Â
Damnâyouâre so perfect. Â
Allowing himself to let go, his mind shatters as Choso melts into your gooey lilâ cunny.Â
His lips are desperate to find yours and Choso is no longer able to withhold himself from sinking into a pussydrunk state. Uncaring for any more displays of dominance, the kiss you share is hurried and sloppy causing your thoughts to splinter.Â
Your mind fragments into increasingly smaller pieces of incoherency the more frantic Chosoâs kiss becomes. His teeth clash with yours and graze over your swollen lips, unable to control himself as he fitfully bruises your clit from the blunt thrusts of his pelvic bone.
Tears glaze your eyes blinding you from the creamy stickiness at Chosoâs hilt that splash between your bodies. The musky fluids flow all over your puffed lilâ pussy to drizzle past his aching balls to puddle on your sheets.
âL-Live with meâwith me nâ YujiâFUHHCKKpussysogoodây-you ainât gotta be here anymore, princess.â
Chosoâs forehead rests against yours and his dick twitches inside of you like crazy from the ridges of his thick engorged cock scraping against every nerve in your cunt.
âBe with us, baby. Be our family. I-IâSHIIIIITâI love you so-much-so-much.â
All of his bravado strips away and thereâs just the soft Choso you knew once again. The one who would do anything for you, the one who made your stomach flip and your heart stopâyou didnât want to go through life anymore without him in yours.
âY-Yes! I wannaâah fuhhhhâsâgud l-love you D-Daddy!â
Overwhelmed with emotion for you and knowing he would come soon, Choso reaches a shaky hand between you to roughly smash his palm into your sensitive lilâ bud. The soaked slick from your bodies causes his movements to jerk erratically and your hips involuntarily thrash against him.
Choso screws his eyes shut, your bodies so wet he nearly slips off of you in his single-minded focus to make you cum. He has to be ready to pull out of you as soon as you do or he wouldnât be able to stop himself from shooting all of his cum in youâyet thatâs exactly what your fucked out lilâ pussy wants.Â
âC-Cumâcum in me DaddyâŠâ
Your voice is barely above a whisper as you almost fade out of consciousness from the sublime shockwaves that erupt over your body as you are nearly at the peak of your climax.
Chosoâs hips falter, almost in a more fucked out condition than you. He nearly dumped his entire load into you then but his last sliver of sanity held out.
âSHIIIIITâP-PrincessâDo ya even know what yâer s-saying to me right now?âÂ
Time slows, your hand cups his face staring with conviction as best you could into his dark aubergine eyes as your other weakly directs the palm pressing on your clit to rest on your belly. Â
âCum in me ChosoâI-I wouldnât mind having a baby if it's yours.âÂ
Oh fuckâŠÂ
And with that your knees were by your ears and your ankles dangle off his shoulders.Â
Sure, you were intoxicated on many substancesâhis dick included and as much as you may have just been talking shit at this moment Choso doesnât care anymore.
Youâd told him youâd have his baby and itâs all his pussydrunk mind can process.
Like a puppy Choso whimpers his groans keen sharply out of him as his tongue dangles to drip slobber down your neck. Heâs reverting back to the sloppy whiny mess you know him to be when hes fucked himself out from treating your drooling hole like a well-loved pocket pussy.
âMHMMM FUCK!â
The knot inside you twists impossibly tighter, straining your nerves until it finally snaps sending shockwaves through you. You lose yourself in nonsensical cries as your worn battered body convulses uncontrollably, creaming around his cock.Â
If your brain hadnât shut down at this very momentâonly filled with the white noise of your searing orgasmâyou might be worried Choso just broke your bed. The creaking fills the room as the sound of metal bending is apparent although neither of you are concerned.
ââsâgonna be OK, mmm-FUCKâmâgonna take care of you, love youâweâll be a real family then, you, me, yujiânâour baby!â
You donât even hear him as youâre on autopilot now. The red streaks your kitten nails scratch across his muscular shoulders urge him on like the squelching sounds of your squirt gushing out of you and wet smacks of his balls colliding with your ass.
Overstimulating your senses, Choso sweeps you up into another all consuming kiss. The mind-numbing aftershocks of your blissful tremors leaves your tongue limp as his mouth hungrily devours yours. When Choso finally releases, his hot seed pumps into your tummy as his body writhes on top of yours.Â
The mind numbing aftershock of your euphoric release continues as Choso proceed to fuck more and more of his thick ropes of his cum into you. He doesnât show signs of slowing down but your body on the other hand fades, giving into the comforting gratification of sleep after having your guts rearranged.Â
âO-one more time, p-princessâpleaseeee.â
Your thankful at that moment youâve previously told Choso you didnât mind somnophilia and gave him the free use pass to fuck you while you slept. You rarely actually could even stay asleep with how hard he would end up railing you but there was a first time for everything with your cunt finally content and full after so long your exhaustion drags you into a deep slumber.Â
Plug!Choso who tightly cuddles you to him as you both sleep. The two of you twisted up like a pretzel in a mess of limbs with you practically smashed between Choso and the wall.Â
Your XL twin bed clearly wasn't meant to comfortably fit two people like this.Â
Youâre still mostly asleep though, softly groaning as the cheery morning sun pierces through your thin curtains. You move to throw a pillow over your face only to discover you cannot budge.Â
However, you can't say you werenât used to waking up like this. Choso was always a hardcore cuddler. You missed the mornings youâd wake overheated and skin to skin. Your legs would find themselves intertwined just like this.Â
Somehow, Choso would always find a way to fuse the both of your bodies together where every part of him was touching some piece of you.
TypicalâŠ
The sleepy thought drifts through your brain, sensing it's still far too early for you to wake up. Wanting to drift back to sleep you burrow your face deeper into his chest, stiffening when your mind does the very opposite and wakes up enough to recall the events of the previous night.
Sobering quickly in the daylight, a sinking feeling begins to suffocate your heart. The now familiar guilt youâve accumulated over the past month amplifies the hangover etching itself behind your eyes.Â
You canât help but panic as the memories from the night before come rushing back.Â
There was still so much uncertainty.Â
Having been utterly humbled for the first time in your life you canât stop the self doubt that questions if heâd even meant everything he said last nightâyou were both lit as hell.Â
Youâd meant it though.
Your heart seizes at the thought that this might be the last time youâd wake up in his arms. Before you know it you are crying again trembling as you try not to wake Choso up with your silent tears.
You are quiet enough but Choso is also a light sleeper and stirs awake at the small fit youâre having.
âH-Hey, morning princess *yawns*âwait, what's wrong?â
His tired eyes are full of loving concern as Choso cups your face wiping away your tears before bringing you into his chest, tightening his hand on your head.
âShit, was I too rough on you last night princess? Fuck, I know how much all this shit means to you Iââ
You interrupt Choso, you canât let him beat himself up over you any longer.
âN-No, Choââ
Sniffling, you break away from his hold just enough to maneuver yourself to meet his tired eyes.Â
You mentally kick yourselfâyou hated being such a crybaby now but you couldn't help it. You were left feeling so vulnerable after being stripped of all pretenses the night beforeâit all just started pouring out of youâÂ
ââd-did you mean it? W-What you said? Cause IâI meant what I said. I-I wanna be with you and Yuji. C-Cook breakfast and f-fall asleep watching movies and go to all his games with youâIâll never miss another game andâandââ
âBet.â
WaitâŠhuh?
Even after last night you half-still expect him to be upset with you, youâd still expected youâd have to beg.Â
Youâre left speechless.
âBet. Letâs pack up your shit then, princess.â
Chosoâs bright grin is near blinding to your weary gaze.Â
âI meant everything I said, I could never lie to you.â
Giving you a tender kiss on your forehead, he forces you to look him in the eyes. Choso takes in all your looks of uncertainty before melting them away, softly cooing affirmations with his lips fluttering over yours. Youâre so needy for his touch as you wrap your arms around his neck to bring him even closer.
Not being able to resist your bodyâs calls for him, you soon find yourself underneath Choso who rubs his morning wood against your core still soaked with his essence from the night before.
Choso smirks down at you, the cockiness back in his voice.
âWhat I say before? Youâre my familyâFuck those bitches and fuck your parentsâI got you.â
Plug!Choso, who doesnât know what time it is but knows he has to go pick up Yuji from his friends soon. He also doesnât know if he should expect your nosy ass sorority sisters to barge in again. Still, that doesnât stop him from sinking into your sopping heat once more, never taking his lips off of you.Â
Unlike the fervor of last night, his strokes are slow. The anger and intensity are gone, but the passion still remains simmering under your skin. Choso is savoring every bit of you as he devours your mewls, drinking them down along with any lingering unsureties.Â
But, fuckâhe doesn't feel like heâll be able to keep himself from cumming inside you from now on. Not when youâd be living with him and Yuji, acting all domestic like.Â
Images of a would-be future with you swirl in his mindâyou pregnant, giggling at Yuji when he jumps in surprise from feeling the baby kickâyour belly growing so large you had to cradle a hand underneath when you adorably waddled from room-to-roomâthe day of delivery when you both finally get to meet the child you crâ
âMUTHRFUUUUH!
Chosoâs eyes roll towards the ceiling as he whines loudly, his whole body is shivering along with his premature release. Buckets of his viscous seed slosh in your womb with every sloppy stutter of his hips, pushing the mass overflow of his cum out of your swollen hole and down the crack of your ass.
Fucking you through his overstimulation, your cries only fuel his intent to impregnate you. The want for the sensual intimacy that slow fucking brings after a reconciliation being overtaken by the intense primal urge to put a baby in your belly.
There was no need for any additional vocalizations of affection when Choso is so adamantly reciprocating your feelings, his creamy cum filling you with promises of his devotion which he fucks even deeper into your womb.Â
You arenât able to recall the last time you felt this satisfied. Working so hard to meet everyone elseâs standards was exhausting and you didnât regret your choice.
You had no plans now other than being with Choso.Â
And contrary to the dread of what you had previously thought deviating off course would be likeâit frees you. You love and trust Choso enough to let go of all of it and just let life take you where it would.
Youâd be content as long as you have him and Yuji.Â
Choso knows this yet even so, he is still on a mission to add a fourth to your new little family sooner rather than later.Â
He knew you were speaking of the future when you said youâd have his kid the night before butâwhy delay the inevitable?Â
Choso needed to fill you up at least 2 more times before heâd let you leave this bedâno matter how many of your sorority sisters would walk inâthey could watch for all he cares.
Yeah at this rate youâd definitely be pregnant by the start of school next year.
Shit, heâd have to go buy a ring soon.
â how was that? holy hell i think this is the longest fic i've written lol. i wanted to take my time with this because although brat taming isn't hard i still wanted to capture the essence of choso. he can be mean enough to do it he's definitely going to internally struggle a bit and be our whiny feral lil baby gworl at the end lol.
taglist will be in a reblog in the morning. needed to get this out and then go to bed. i might also edit it a bit as well. as some of it wasn't proofed.
reblogs and comments so appreciated, i wanna know what u think, send me asks too!
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INTRO â ì ê”
youâre jeonggukâs secret santa this year, so you give him the best gift heâll ever receive.
ââșââ
. 1/6 from christmas & chill
pairing virgin!jk x fem reader
genre smut, fluff, friends to lovers, first time
warnings painfully oblivious jk, even more painfully oblivious oc, mutual pining unlike anything youâve seen, jk being a hot nerd ceo whoâs loaded rich and unaware of his potential, please imagine him as nam joohyuk in start up, oc just creaming her pants for jk, hand job, lowk strip tease, dry humping, nipple play (m&f), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, jk is so needy and impatient but also very polite, smut is kinda rushed because well⊠itâs his first time! sawrry! also i open gifts on xmas eve please donât come for me and my traditions (itâs lich just because iâm impatient)
word count 8.3k
authorâs note hello hello hello!!! iâm so nervy to post this because itâs what finally inaugurates c&c!!!! i hope it can be a pleasing (intro)duction to the series hehe⊠either way youâll get something totally better from miss lyssa tomorrow so stay tuned Wink đ©· luv u always
banner by the talented @awrkive ⥠Ęâ .
Secret Santas have become the only way youâve been able to deal with Christmas. When it comes to gift-giving, youâre embarrassed to admit that creativity in that department doesnât exactly come naturally to you.
You try your best, truly. But you either end up going over budget, striving to please all your loved ones with unnecessarily expensive gifts which will only leave you with empty hands and an empty wallet, or having your brain completely stop working, if not to come up with the most basic and useless options that will get you forced smiles and polite nods in fake recognition.
Itâs exhausting, demoralizing, and frankly, a recipe for holiday burnout.
So when two years ago, on the brink of giving up entirely and seriously contemplating hibernating through winter, your dear friend Jimin swooped in and suggested Secret Santa, it completely reshaped your next Christmases.
Exactly a month before Christmas Eve, you reunite over drinks and food at Jeonggukâs house to draw names. His place always ends up as the default spot for dinners, movie nights, or even football matches. Those donât usually get the attention of everybody, especially of some of the girls, and it wouldnât get yours either.
But you never skip game night. Correction, you never miss an excuse to be in Jeonggukâs space, even if it means sitting through 90 minutes of men chasing a ball on a screen. After all, youâre never truly paying attention, always stealing glances at the boy who seems almost even more uninterested than you.
Itâs about witnessing him in his houseâ which, truthfully, is more of a mansion. The spacious, cozy interiors mirror a part of him thatâs hard to miss: his perfectionist side, the one that likes to keep things understated but canât help leaving subtle, telling marks of his presence on everything he touches, is woven into every corner.
Over time, youâve naturally come to associate the place with holidays, laughter, and celebrations that fill you with a sense of belonging. Being here, surrounded by your closest friend, makes you feel profoundly grateful.
And thereâs so many traces of you all, too. The faint wine stain on Jeonggukâs carpet that is only still noticeable if you squint, the one that spilled from your glass when Hoseokâs jokes had you laughing too hard; the long, slim scratch on the kitchen door, courtesy of Eunbi, who thought learning how to balance glasses on her forehead would get one of her coworkers to finally fall for her; the wobbly vase on the coffee table that was knocked over during one of Jiminâs overly enthusiastic attempts to kick a water bottle open.
Watching Jeongguk deal with the chaos you all force into his space might be another big reason why you love being here. It seems to squeeze out his most genuine reactions and quirks, and you canât help biting your lips at those, almost pornographically so.
For someone who works so hard to appear composed, and whoâs also extremely shy and reserved, Jeongguk is hilariously transparent when things donât go his way. Brows furrowed, as if thatâs where he keeps all his control. Although, no matter how flustered he gets, Jeongguk almost never gets choleric. His instinct is never to lash out but to scramble, a picture of barely contained stress insisting that everything is fine.
And the more he insists, the more you find yourself wishing it wasnât fine. Sometimes, you want to see him lose itâ especially at you.
Youâve tried, too. Youâve pushed boundaries, done little things to test the limits of his patience, all for the slim possibility of seeing him crack, just for you. But it never works. The best you get is an awkward smile, maybe a quiet laugh. Itâs not nothing, but itâs not what you want, either.
You donât think youâve ever felt this crazy about someone before. Not in the way where everything he does sends your brain spinning with possibilities. Itâs maddening. His obliviousness is maddening.
Chiefly tonight, when youâre trying extra hard to keep it under control, the whole group gathering in a circle around the bowl that holds all your names, each one carefully folded into a little square, waiting to be drawn.
But when your slim fingers brush against one of the many crumpled pieces of paper and decide your fate, you send a small prayer to whoever might be listening. Please, donât let it be Jeongguk.
It doesnât really come off as a coherent request, especially considering how much your body has betrayed you tonight. Your thighs have been pressing together most of the evening, a subconscious reaction every time your gaze wandered â lingered â on Jeonggukâs lower half. Those low, slouchy grey sweatpants, hanging effortlessly off his narrow hips, have been the source of many inappropriate thoughts that you wish would make you grow some shame within yourself. Instead, they only make you grow hotter in your seat.
No, you would love to be Jeonggukâs Secret Santa with the blatant, embarrassingly huge crush you have on him. You think youâd be happy about it in any other universe, except this one.
Jeongguk is difficult. And not because heâs ever been argumentative, looking to start quarrels, never willing to agree or see past his nose. Heâs far from those. Heâs one of the easiest people to be around, rarely judgmental, even when you were drunk off your mind and you jokingly grinded on very-gay Jimin to make up for your lack of sexual activity. On those occasions, you didn't exactly see judgement in his eyes. Just reticence. Maybe. It wasnât clear.
What is clear is that Jeongguk is incredibly particular. Heâs picky about what he likes and even more so about what he doesnât, though dislike might be too soft a word. When he hates something, itâs impossible not to know. He doesnât even try to mask his disappointment.
Itâs not malicious, of course. Heâs not the type to be spiteful. Itâs just how he is, an open book, his expressions giving him away without fail.
Itâs one of the many reasons you love watching him, other than hoping your eyes would telepathically convey your undying desire to fuck him and cuddle him close to your chest afterwards. But most of the time, studying the shifts in his features is a way for you to decipher what heâs thinking.
And thatâs why this moment feels so high-stakes. The last thing you want is to be on the receiving end of one of Jeonggukâs polite smiles or barely-there nods of acknowledgment, the kind he gives when heâs unimpressed. It would crush you, the ultimate failure in your short-lived career as a gift-giver.
Itâs not just that heâs hard to please. Jeongguk is also the last person who seems to need anything. Heâs loaded, his success as a game developer has afforded him a life where anything he wants is within reach. And yet, despite his wealth, thereâs no arrogance about him. If you didnât know him so well, you might think he was just another college student scraping by.
Who else but Jeon Jeongguk could walk around in a hoodie and square glasses, looking like he just rolled out of bed, while being the CEO of his own company?
But, of course, none of this is important. Because as you unfold the piece of paper in your hand, itâs there. Jeongguk.
You donât think you enjoy Secret Santa as much anymore.
With the bowl continuing its journey around the circle, you spend the rest of the game staring holes into the back of Jeonggukâs head, desperately trying to figure out what in the world you could possibly get him. Your monthly budget feels laughable in comparison to his lifestyle, but youâre already prepared to go way over it if thatâs what it takes to impress him.
You wonder if heâs as insecure as you are when he quietly unfolds the small, paper square he picked up and scans the name. His bug eyed expression doesnât hide an evident surprise, the twitch of his eyebrows managing to conceal a possible disappointment.
For someone whoâs usually so easy to read, Jeongguk seems uncharacteristically guarded in this moment, and it drives you crazy. You squint at him, frowning as you try to decipher any small detail on his face. Is he annoyed? Or worse, completely indifferent?
Either way, it doesnât look like a positive reaction. If it ends up being you, youâll rethink back to this moment and cry yourself to sleep.
With the first step out of the way, the night goes on following its usual rhythm. Only by the end of it, Jeonggukâs space starting to empty, you quietly help him put some order to the mess left behind by a too drunk Hoseok paired with his too drunk best friend Taehyung.
You keep yourself busy with storing some leftover food, managing to keep your tone unbothered when you ask, âHey, Gguk. Wanna help me with the party planning this year?â
Always obliging to your every request, he only stutters slightly in his movements, the glasses he was cleaning clinking together. He clears his throat, âSâsure. Iâll help you, goldie.â The stammer doesnât seem to be caused by any kind of hesitation, just an usual consequence to his nature. Reserved, quiet.
You nod, gulping way too loudly at the special nickname he has for you, and both of you keep your focus on your doings instead of witnessing the faint blush dusting your cheeks, âCool. Iâll text you the details tomorrow.â
Details texted, your efforts to divert the conversation into something remotely playful failed miserably. Jeongguk is painfully formal, methodical as ever, hyper-focused on the party. When you sent him a TikTok you deemed adorable enough to nudge him toward a different matter, maybe hint at the dog being the cutest thing heâs ever seen and that you two should definitely adopt three of them and move in together, he still doesnât get it.
ggukđ€: Oh⊠I asked my brother to keep Bam for Christmas Eve. I thought he would be too much of a hassle, especially with Iseul not being fond of dogs.
You had stared at the ceiling for a long moment after reading that text. Jeongguk is endearingly dense, and you donât mind it most of the time. But itâs starting to cause quiet bursts of frustration when it comes to whatever undefined thing you two have, and what is clearly simmering for the eyes of everybody to see, except his.
Youâd thought giving him his first handjob when he quietly confessed heâs never been touched, his voice a tremble in the calm aftermath of a chaotic group sleepover, would be enough to make him see. His quiet whimpers were hypnotizing calls that only you were meant to hear, and your fist pumping his girthy length with intent was speaking all you were afraid to voice.
Jeongguk came hard and unannounced all over your hand, pleasured sounds muffled in the side of your neck, and youâd assured him it was okay; he did good; that you would get something to clean him up. You didnât sleep that night, and he didnât either, spending the rest of it next to each other on his couch talking pointless conversation.
If that hadnât opened his eyes, you were beginning to wonder what would.
âSo⊠Do you have any idea what to gift your person?â
Jeongguk stirs his latte for the fourth time. Youâd decided to meet at a cafĂ© halfway between your cramped flat and his mansion, because it was the easiest way you managed to make your busy schedules merge.
âNo, Gguk,â you acknowledge his question without meeting his eyes, focusing on the grocery list on your laptop instead.
What would? Youâre starting to think subtlety isnât cutting it. Maybe it never has. Perhaps the only way to break through that frustratingly thick skull of his is to go full throttle, strip naked right here in the middle of this cafĂ© and spell it out for him.
Your eye involuntary twitches at the thought in relation to his question. Crazy Christmas gift, you reason as you stare maniacally at your bright screen. Yeah. Totally crazy.
Shaking your head, you canât resist glancing up at him. The idea doesnât seem so irrational anymore, not when your insides twist at the sight of his absorbed expression, his brows furrowed as he scribbles out unheard-of maths on a piece of paper to figure out group expenses.
With your chin resting in the palm of your hand, you abandon your pretense of being productive and let yourself watch him work. A teasing lilt slips into your voice as you prod him in your usual way, âWhy should I believe you already donât know who it is?â
He blinks up at you, promptly, like he always does when you speak to him, and he stumbles, âHuhâ I donâtââ
âYou so do. You probably already guessed it all with your nerdy brain.â
Despite looking mildly offended, his ears turn red anyway, âNerdy brainââ
âGlasses look cute on you,â that shuts him up; his mouth, his brain. Completely unable to cater to any of their functions.
You smirk at the way he diverts his gaze, pointer finger unconsciously fixing the specs on the bridge of his nose, and you wonder how much longer itâll take for him to notice that you donât just go around calling everyoneâs glasses cute.
Sighing, you continue, âAnyways. Itâs not you.â
âWâwhat? Is it really not?â When he looks up at you with even wider eyes, you feel bad for lying to him but you still shake your head. He mutters, âShoot. I was so sure I had it.â
A playful scoff escapes you, âSee! You did sit in your nerdy room and tried to guess!â
âStop calling me a nerd,â itâs a request grumbled in the most adorable way youâve heard, and thereâs no real heat behind it. Especially when he goes back to be exactly what he doesnât want you to refer to him as, âWell, if itâs not me, it must be Taehyung.â
You pretend to busy yourself with your touchpad as you ponder on his eagerness. Then, you voice the result, âWhatâs the fun in knowing right now?â
Jeongguk hesitates for a moment too long before admitting, âI donât know. I guess it makes me less anxious.â
Itâs a raw kind of honesty, much like what he was painted all over with when he came from your touch, and it has you shifting your gaze back on him, now absorbed in doodling stylized portraits of Bam right next to numbers and additions.
You donât know if itâs the hot chocolate still simmering in your tummy, the warmth from the coat laying on your legs, the cafĂ©âs natural heat or Jeonggukâs proximity, but you buzz with something homely.
Ariana Grandeâs version of Last Christmas replays for the third time in a row, and at this point youâre starting to believe itâs a conscious choice, but you donât mind it.
Jeongguk belongs to the world the soft melody is building, hugged by a woolen white sweater, the wide glass window behind him giving the perfect view to a classic winter scenery, snow softly resting on any surface it finds and unconsciously bringing magic to dullness. Or maybe itâs just him adding that last bit.
You smile at his small confession, reassuring with your tone, almost drowning in the lively chatter of the place surrounding you, âYou donât have to be.â
Jeongguk only nods, tapping the pencil on his temple as he studies what he has so far with sudden doubt. He looks at your laptop, scanning the long forgotten visual board on your Pinterest, then back to his calculations.
Giving one more glance at the screen, he concludes, âBy the way, I really donât think that color would look good in my living room.â
Ugh.
You think you want to strangle him when he deflects so easily from these moments. And mostly, the burgundy heâs so easily refusing happens to be one of your favorite shades. Do your tastes ever match?
God, as much as you want him, you hope heâs not your Secret Santa.
âââââïœĄËâË ïœĄâââââ
Jeongguk is your Secret Santa.
And on Christmas Eve, heâs pacing the length of his living room back and forth, his socks brushing against the polished wooden floor with each step. Youâre supposed to arrive any minute now to help him with the final touches before the others come for dinner, and the idea of having you here alone is enough to make his hands clammy and his thoughts stumble.
The neatly wrapped gift with its shiny red paper sits tucked under the towering Christmas tree, the one adorned in messy decor that his friends jumbled up together. The item hidden inside the bag doesnât share his anxieties, though he suspects his downstairs neighbour might have caught on to it with the incessant pacing.
When you ring the doorbell heâs jolted out of it and, practically tripping over his own feet, he rushes to the door and yanks it open. He would have let you in just as rapidly if his brain didnât stop short at seeing you standing there.
Youâre cladded in a soft sweater that looks two sizes larger, its beige tones complimenting the warm brown of his own jumper, and your short skirt peeks out beneath its hem, edged with lace ruffles. At your feet, a pair of chestnut Uggs that he can only hope are enough to make up for the cold shivers on your bare legs. Not that heâs staring, so intently he has to gulp down an impulsive thought. No, heâs just a naturally observing guy.
And that brings him to notice that your hands are empty, save for a small purse and a bottle of wine. No bag, no box, no sign of a gift.
When his gaze flickers back to your face, your eyes are wide and darting nervously between his own, narrowed by the frown that he canât quite hide but bug sized the moment he catches a trace of insecurity in your shaky voice, âHi.â
It could be the cold causing the brief greeting to tremble, small snowflakes laying on your neatly styled hair, shimmering for a brief moment before melting away. It pulls him out from his unabashed study of you, and he steps aside to let you into his much warmer space.
Your vanilla scent inebriating his senses has him forgetting all about your seemingly non existent gift, and how he suddenly finds himself wishing he truly did get something messed up in his calculations, that youâre not his Secret Santa.
But you are.
Many drinks later, filling up everyoneâs stomachs along with shared food and belly laughter, itâs time to exchange gifts and the expression on your face is unlikely anything heâs caught on so far.
A huge contrast to the mellow Christmas tunes indistinctly playing in the background, your eyes are impassive as you word your excuses, âIâm sorry, Gguk. I forgot your gift at home.â
âOh. Itâs okay,â he says quickly, the words spilling out with genuine ease. And it really is okay. Heâs not upsetâ far from it. The thought of you giving him anything at all, even belatedly, is enough to make him feel content.
But now, as the groupâs attention turns toward him, his heart races for an entirely different reason. His gift for you, a lavish, over-the-top gesture that far exceeds the modest budget they all agreed on, sits waiting on his lap.
When it finds a new home atop your own crossed legs, youâre eager as you rip the paper, but your eyes donât follow your movements. Instead, you focus on the nervous boy sitting across from you, your very own Secret Santa whoâs monitoring your hands for you while subtly rocking from one side to the other.
His anxiety is endearingly soft, but you can see something more to it, almost an irrational fear of tripping on the wrong step, messing up something thatâs supposed to be simple.
You hear it before you see it. The whole room inhales sharply in a collective surprise, with some gasps muffled behind hands pressed to mouths. You scramble for an explanation in their expressions, jumping from one face to the other, stopping on Jeonggukâs own, gaze glued to his fidgeting fingers, head bowed down to his lap.
When you slowly look down at whatâs resting on yours, you almost wheeze. If they could, your eyes would leap out of their sockets.
Your palm instinctively presses on your lips as you look between the gift and the gifter in a frantic attempt to catch any sign that this is not what it is. With the music being the only sound eerily filling the sudden silence, you add to it, even if barely, with your voice a whisper, âWhat is this?â
Jeongguk gulps and finally meets you, âItâs mâmy gift for you.â
Itâs not like you even opened it yet. But the simple sight of the box had you grasping for support. On the pale, textured surface of the square box, the unmistakable gold lettering is whatâs making your orbs shake in confusion: Dior.
You trace the sign with your pointed finger, tilting your head up to look at Jeongguk through your lashes, and you donât know how else to put it, âGgukkie⊠Were you there when we set the budget?â
Jimin butts in with a scoff, âYeah, thatâs like fifteen thousand won multiplied by another fifty thousand.â
Jeongguk doesnât know what he should say. Heâs scared of the deafening silence that follows, the way Jiminâs comment seems to linger in the air, the way you seem to struggle with finding something to say in response.
He begins, tries to, âIââ
âFuck, Gguk,â the simple sound of your words has his mind spiralling, palms clammy with doubts that question his every choice leading up to this moment, feeling foolish for even thinking this could be right, a shot worth trying. What if you think heâs showing off? Or worse, overcompensating?
But what he fails to notice is the toothy grin that follows your shameless surprise, your fingers gingerly lifting the lid of the box, and really, if only he had the courage to look up at you heâd have avoided the worries.
He misses your reaction at the reveal: the prettiest earrings sit on a soft cushion, gleaming gold with delicate CD initials and cream pearls dangling gracefully beneath them.
âThese are the prettiest thing Iâve ever seen. I love them. You didnât have to.â
Jeonggukâs head snaps up. He meets your face painted with the most beautiful grin heâs ever seen you wear, your cheeks burning with red and your nose scrunching as you carefully slip the earrings to take a better look at them. With you, everybody else around him seems in awe, too. Their soft, endeared whispers begin to fill the earlier suffocating silence, melting into a sweetness reserved entirely for Jeongguk.
He exhales quietly, the welcomed warmth in his chest replacing the cold. He admits, no stutter, no fear, just a sheepish smile, âI wanted to.â
Jeongguk really did want to. It felt like his one shot. A desperate, last-ditch attempt at making you see him the way heâs always seen you; a declaration wrapped in gold and pearls.
He wants you to see him as more than the shy, awkward boy who stumbles over his words and blushes too easily. More than the nerd who spends too much time working on equations and codes half the world doesnât know about. More, just to have you look at him a bit closer.
He wants to be a man, one who badly wants you, in your eyes.
Theyâre gleaming with adorable excitement as they flicker back to his, sheepishly accompanying your quiet request, âCan you⊠put them on for me?â
Jeongguk is at your side in no time, handling the earrings with care while trying to keep his usual clumsiness at bay as he fastens the dainty jewels in place. He begins to understand why itâs hard to see him as anything else but gawky when he feels his heartbeat speed up from the simple way his skin is brushing against yours.
Namjoonâs voice cuts through the spell, playful, âOh, what a pretty princess. Jeongguk truly has an eye for this stuff.â
With the group following with chuckles and mindless banter, Jeongguk feels uncharacteristically bold, gaze fixated entirely on you as he lets himself spill something meant for you only to hear, âI think itâs just you. Youâre beautiful.â
Youâre clearly caught off guard, and it stings a little when he realizes the only reason he doesnât get to see you this flustered often is because heâs usually busy being the flustered one. Blinking up at him through your lashes, your laugh comes out a little breathless, and the sweet way you let your cheek rest on your shoulder has him daring to hope.
âNerd.â
But no. There it is again.
Thatâs all heâll ever be in your eyes.
He forces a smile that barely reaches his eyes, but youâre too engrossed with having your pearls admired by the rest of the group to notice. Those werenât a waste; he would do it all the same. You deserve everything that makes your eyes shine, that brings the corners of your lips into that grin that shakes him, that can ever bring you joy. He just wishes it could bring you more than that; bring you to a bigger sentiment, a bigger realization.
Perhaps thatâs why he canât shake off the awful mood that pervades his senses throughout the rest of the night, the earrings hanging from your ears catching the twinkly, warm lights and mocking him with delighted amusement. Thereâs nothing else you can do, you nerdy boy.
Perhaps thatâs also why, when the house starts to empty and youâre in his kitchen making yourself helpful with dishes, he slips on composure when you accidentally let a glass slide from your dainty hands.
It breaks the moment it meets the ground, and the sound penetrates his ears, both of you jumping at the impact. He hisses, âWhatâ what the heck, ___!â
Youâre startled, blinking up at him. Itâs not the chaos from the glass, not its tiny pieces covering the floor and reaching your feet. Itâs the deliberate frustration of his tone, one heâs never let free, especially with you.
You pant for apologies, but they canât seem to be let out. Wide eyes jumping between his own bug ones, your brows draw up in shame. It has never been this easy to get him bothered. Hell, youâve even struggled to.
Jeongguk only sighs, dragging a hand across his nape, and he regrets the quiet sharpness in his voice the second he lets it out, âGod. Be more careful next time.â
Heâs still quicker than you on his feet, moving to sweep the mess youâve created before you can even react. You seem to move in slow, infinite motions, kneeling down to pick up the bigger pieces, all while keeping an unusual silence.
He steals a glance up at you, biting his lower pierced lip in sudden guilt, âAre you okay?â
Your hands pause, clutching a fragment of glass as your eyes flicker up to meet his. You nod, distant, and it does nothing to convince him.
He doesnât even seem to be paying attention to your hesitant confirmation, rather heâs hyper-focused on your fingers, and before you realize the shift in his expression, he alarmedly blurts out, âGoldie. Youâre bleeding.â
The sting barely registers for you until his words bring it to your attention. Looking down, you see a sharp, red line running across your finger, small but enough to make Jeongguk spring into action.
Youâre lifted off the floor and ushered to the bathroom in fractions of seconds, letting yourself be handled like you donât own your body. The only thing you want to be aware of is the switch in his behaviour. Heâs back to normal once heâs in his quiet bubble of concentration, movements precise as he cleans the barely visible wound and carefully places a band aid over it.
All while he canât stop apologizing, âIâm sorry for yelling at you. That was not your fault. But, this. This is my faââ
âJeongguk, itâs just a scratch.â
The way he meets your eyes with his face drawn tight and brows furrowed makes you rethink your statement. Maybe itâs more than a scratch. Maybe itâs the only thing that snapped him out of his frustrated daze.
âIt doesnât matter. You didnât deserve that.â
Your first instinct is to giggle; itâs a resonance of the butterflies childishly swarming in your belly from the proximity and his careful words. Both your gazes soften as you accept each other, even the faulted versions of tonight, and a timid smile stretches over his lips.
You hesitate before speaking again, your mouth opening only to close, reconsidering your words; but then you finally let out what you had foolishly planned as your next desperate attempt to cling to him.
âCan you⊠My car is⊠Can you take me home?â
What youâre now sure you like the most about Jeongguk is how he caters to your needs before you even have to voice them. The soft kindness in his eyes, the way his body instinctively shifts to act before his mind even fully processes the request. Heâs already nodding, ready to make it happen for you.
âYeah. Of course.â
The heat in his car fans over your cheeks, dusting them with a soft red that has his Adamâs apple bobbing every time he turns to steal glances at you at stoplights. You keep talking, filling the air with contentment about the nightâs events, and itâs like that subtle slip of his never happened.
Itâs almost too easy to surrender and pretend that everything is fine, that he doesnât feel the ache of wanting more. If staying a nerd in your eyes means getting to be this close, to hear your laughter, to see the slight curve of your lips as you speak, then maybe itâs enough.
His subtle gestures â adjusting the temperature so youâre comfortable, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter when your giggles spill into the cabin â donât go unnoticed. They settle into you and have your heart beating anticipatedly.
God, you wonât regret what youâre about to do.
By the time he pulls up in front of your place, you promptly turn to him before he can offer anything else, voice a bit too eager, âWould you like to come inside?â
âHuhââ
âIâll show you my gift.â
Jeongguk sits on your couch, because you tell him to wait there. And of course, heâs a great listener. Very obedient, willing to follow your every order.
His fingertips drum restlessly on his thighs and he can only busy himself with his surroundings, every detail speaking for you. Whatâs definitely more prominent is the intoxicating scent of vanilla that clings in the air, of which he hopes his lungs inhale the entirety of, never getting enough of everything that is you.
When you come into his vision again, walking down the stairs in quiet steps, youâre tightly hugged in a trench coat, the textured belt cinched snugly around you and accentuating the small of your waist. Under it, your legs are bare. It has his mouth drying and his legs spreading stiffly on the couch.
He thought he got better at hiding his concerning infatuation. He hopes he did.
Thatâs why he initially manages to chuckle and attempt a joke, âAre you going somewââ
âTa-da.â
Jeongguk doesnât think heâs breathing. He doesnât think he can even breathe anymore. His blinking fastens, brain stumbling over itself as it tries to make sense of what heâs sitting in front of.
Youâve loosened the coat just enough for the fabric to fall and reveal what youâve carefully wrapped for him. Youâre a gift coming in a red lingerie set clinging to your perfect curves, your boobs deliciously spilling out from the sides of your lace top and the line of your panties thin enough to leave little to the imagination.
He pants, scanning over your body once, twice, three times, questioning if the wine was perhaps laced with stronger substances, âWhatâ What is thisââ
âItâs my gift for you. Merry Christmas, Gguk.â
Meeting your face again, he nearly groans. Youâre almost bare before him, yet you still sport a crimson blush and your teeth graze your bottom lip in a sheepish smile, in a way that is so achingly you. He can feel himself throbbing painfully in his pants. Thinks he could cum just from this view, tip over the edge without a single touch, no matter how bad he needs it.
âFuck.â
Youâve barely ever heard Jeongguk curse throughout the time youâve known him for. He only sometimes reserves that for his monitor, Overwatch games causing his composure to slip in adorable loud whispers.
But itâs like youâve broken his dam, and he only lets more slip as you walk slowly but certainly closer to him, coat discarded on the floor, âOh my, fuck. Holy shit. Thank you. Thank you. Iâ I donât know what to do.â
Itâs a quiet plea, the one thatâs hidden in his strained words but clear in his full eyes glazed over with anticipation, his hands hovering uncertainly over his thighs, chest still heaving and struggling with manual breathing. Heâs begging to feel deserving of this, to have you prove to him that itâs what you truly want for the both of you, to have you touching him and to be touching you.
He canât help the moan that escapes him when you position yourself in between his spread legs, bodies close yet not touching, but heâs dying to feel you.
Now your turn to bend at his every request, your head tilts and your smile widens the more heâs forced to crane his neck up to keep your gazes connected, pending off your every syllable, âYou donât have to do anything. Will you let me take care of you?
âYes, please,â the confirmation is immediate and empty of hesitance. Under you, Jeongguk nods promptly with his lips agape, watering with want when you straddle his lap to sit yourself on him.
He wails, throwing his head back and searching for all the strength it takes from holding back his instinct to snap up against your core, snuggled atop his raging hardness. At his shameless desperation, your giggles fill his ears, and when theyâre followed by your cold hand on his cheek redirecting his gaze on yours, he feels feverish.
Delirious, eyes barely keeping from rolling back, his brain reduced to senseless blabbering, âMy God. Thank you for this.â
With his brows adorably drawn up, he focuses on your dilated pupils now that your faces are mere centimetres apart, and you close the distance with small pecks that trace his jaw, up to his ear lobe, whispering against the skin, âAre you seriously thanking God while Iâm about to take your virginity?
Jeongguk hisses in a frenzied surge, his hands still unsurely keeping from touching you, and your sarcastic pun has him full on rambling, âShit, sorry. I donât even believe in God. This just feels too good to be true. You look like a fucking angel.â
âGgukkie, language!â Your seductive tone along with your chuckle reverberates right against his chest, your hands moving to lead your own palms up and down his broad front, and when you subtly roll your hips against his clothed length, he breaks into a cry.
âOh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Iâll come so soon,â you donât know if itâs the adrenaline of the moment, but youâve never witnessed such a bold Jeongguk. It only spurs you further, your hand traveling down, and down, until it sneaks under his sweater.
When you find his nipple, you playfully roll it between your pointer and thumb, his trembling body bucking up in an unstoppable urge, quiet whimpers working to keep his tone down. But you want to hear him scream under you, just as loud as you can feel his heart beating.
You bite your lip as your eyes drift downward, watching where your bodies meet in slow, teasing drags. His wide palms press into the cushions on either side of you, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip, and when you lift your gaze to meet his face again the delicious buzz pooling low in your stomach intensifies, your lips parting instinctively. A pretty blush creeps up his neck, painting his sharp jaw and cheekbones in shades of red, and his eyes, clouded, desperate, and burning with unfiltered need, lock onto you with a gaze that makes your knees weak even as you straddle him.
The simple grinding through the layers of clothing you still have on has you releasing whiny gasps in the air, his cock sliding torturously between your folds, and if youâre so affected by every shift you can hardly fathom what he must be feeling under you.
So you wonder out loud, voice rough the more you feel his stiff nipple under your fingertips, âHow long since youâve been touched properly, hm?â
His body hiccups, shaking with the barely contained lust, âSinceâ Since you last did, goldie.â
You coo, slowing down your movements and bringing your fingers to the hem of his jumper only to lift it and toss it behind you carelessly, âYouâre so sensitive, aren't you?â At the view of his exposed chest, you canât help roaming the expanse of it and feeling the tensing muscles under your skin, and by now youâre sure your panties must be ruined.
âPuhâ please,â the plea is barely coherent, whispered out messily through high-pitched moans, but he begs again, âI wanna touch you too.â
âThenâŠâ You let your hands speak for you, moving them to lead his own big ones to rest at your thighs, letting them drag up the curve of your ass. Youâre impossibly close to his lips now, fanning against them, âFeel me, Gguk.â
Unable to resist, you fall forward and catch his mouth with yours in a kiss that struggles to find a rhythm, that has your tongues tangled in an uncoordinated dance, but that inevitably has you both humming loudly in an effort to almost devour each other, and his hands digging in your bare skin only force a gasp out of you.
In an impatient rush, you urge him to unclasp your bra, his unpractised and shaky fingers being joined by your experienced ones to finally free you from the tight confines, and as much as he wants to make kissing you a sport just to win every gold medal and break record after record, he canât help separating from your lips with a wet sound to look down at your exposed breasts.
Jeongguk groans, and this time he doesnât need you guiding him. Itâs his own palms moving to cup you, and the innocent, light feather touch causes you to throw your head back and resume your slow grinding on top of him.
Both of you are panting messes, his moans significantly louder the more he gets to knead at your softness only to slice his thumb over your hardened nipples, the contrast making his brows furrow in hazed need, and when you arch your back into him he squeezes your tit to his mouth, eliciting a surprised wail from you.
Even when he gets closer, your sensitive nub engulfed by his swollen lips, he keeps looking up at you for approval with wide, teary eyes that beg for you to praise him. And with a hand gripping his wavy locks, you nod repeatedly for him to keep going, âFuck, baby. Just like that, oh my God.â
He hums lowly with his mouth stuffed, his fingers digging in your flesh the more you drag your cunt mercilessly over the outline of his thickness, and he has to release you with a pop and rest his head on the couch behind him, palms keeping you somewhat still by the waist, panting out a desperate request when he feels himself throb dangerously close to his high, âGâGoldie, I canât. Donâtâ Donât wanna cum like this.â
You lift your hips just enough for the both of you to whimper at the loss of friction, and you murmur through a string of kisses along his exposed neck, âHow do you want to cum then, huh?â
He only whines, cheeks flushed with want and eyes glossy, forehead creasing with the way his brows are stressing, âPlease.â
You show no mercy, flashing him with a wicked smirk and a teasing tilt of your head, âAh-ah. Say it.â
Gulping with effort, his waist twitches up unconsciously to seek for your touch once again, and with his face turned to the side he admits in the smallest voice, ââNside of you.â
âGood boy. Gonna give you exactly what you want.â
He voices a loud cry just from the sound of your promise, only echoing more intensely when you hastily work at his zipper. Itâs messy, uncertain, and it elicits breathy giggles from the two of you, drunk on adoration and high on desire.
Eventually, heâs stripped free from his confines, and his cock stands proud and hard, veins pumping the blood that has it throbbing against his toned stomach.
Jeongguk can feel your hooded eyes on him, can sense his tip wettening with the simple way you seem starved and eager to taste him, your hand coming too close to where he needs you the most before he gently grabs your wrist to stop it.
Automatically, your head snaps up, and the look on his face is one of nervous desperation, âWanâ you to kiss me, please.â
Youâre ready to comply to his every demand, and this one is as easy as it gets. You want to give him everythingâ whatever he wants, however he wants it.
Your lips mold with his in worldless acceptance, absorbing all you were afraid to voice to each other, making up for all the time you wasted, devoting to a sealed promise, the one that dances between your connected tongues, saliva making it wet and breathless.
Even more when your slim fingers trail down his torso before wrapping around his length, your wrist expertly flicking in a teasing touch, and his moan is unrestrained as it tears through the kiss. You swallow the sound greedily, steadying you against his chest rising and falling in frantic pants.
Before he can protest, his own hips bucking up in a silent beg for more, you steal the air from his lungs when you move your panties to the side and align your entrance with his tip, just to sink down on it.
The drag is slow and it has both of your eyes rolling back, pleased groans filling the air and straining against your throat when you fully sit yourself wrapped around his dick. You search for him, âYou okay?â
âShit,â Jeongguk seems hypnotised by the view of his thickness wrecking you in half, and his palms come to rest at your waist where his fingers dig into the skin. Your own playing with the hair on his nape only seem to make him more vulnerable, âThis is perfect. You feel so good and warm, fuck.â
Youâre not used to hearing him curse so openly and so often, and it naturally makes you giggle, the sound tickling his ears and leading his dilated pupils to look up at you through his lashes. Your sweet laughter fades into a lasting smile, one he canât help but kiss, even if itâs all teeth, the contagious sight of your happiness getting to him too.
The moment is sickeningly sweet, bodies connected in more ways than one. With your kiss only deepening and your chest melting against his, you pull him impossibly closer by the back of his neck and start attempting slow motions on top of him.
You hear him through his thundering heartbeat, âGoldie⊠Iâ I donât think I can last any longer, Iâm so sorry, Iââ
âOh, shit, baby,â one particular shift has his length, deeply stuffed in your tight walls, finding your spot and teasing it with an electric buzz that travels through your body, âItâs okay. Iâm so close too.â
The moment you try a firmier bounce and feel him find you again, you canât help the way your movements fasten, your moans thick and low against your throat, his own louder and ricocheting through the walls.
You steady yourself with one of you palms on his thigh, leaning your weight back and finding a new angle to fuck yourself on him. He watches in awe as you work your fingers on your clit, rapid circling movements causing his mouth to hang open at the squelching sounds.
He pants, his wide hands guiding your riding, pushing you up and down, âCanâ Can I touch you?â
You hum, but it sounds more like a whine, âHm, of course, pretty boy,â the hand that was stimulating your sensitive nub now comes behind you to help support yourself on both of his muscular thighs, flexing under every shift.
Jeongguk is unpracticed as he leads his thumb to rest at your clit, applying a soft pressure and mimicking the same pattern he observed from you. He only seems to be focusing on his doing for the first few moments before he searches up for the reaction on your face, and he whimpers when he finds your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, your brows drawn up in pleasure.
You smile at the unconscious twitch of his chin, and give him just what you know he wants, âAlways seeking my approval. Youâre so good.â
The simple praise only has him working on you with more confidence, collecting some of your wetness and sliding it up along your lips. He learns fast, listening to your every sound and centering on your pleasure, as best as he can with his own knot getting closer to bursting.
Youâre clearly affected by the simulations, your hips stuttering and riding around him, but you still make sure to concentrate on him first, âIâll tell you when to cum, hm? Youâll listen to me, right?â
Jeongguk nods before he even knows what heâs agreeing to, âYâyes. Yes, yes, fuck. Iâll be good. Wanna be so, so good for you. Wanna câcum for you.â
âYouâre so filthy, baby. Naughty boy. Fuck me.â
His hips meet you up with harsh thrusts that have you lose your balance on him, and you can only throw yourself with your arms around his broad shoulders, face hidden in the crook of his neck as he lets his desire take over, fucking up into you with a desperate need for release.
You think you see stars with the way he relentlessly pounds your hole, wet folds sliding along his length and causing a mess between you, his own slickness mixed with yours trailing down and pooling at the base. The sounds are inglorious, and they merge perfectly with your wails.
Breathing in his scent, you know heâs close from the way his thrusts are stammering sloppily, and his moans are closer to strained whines. You concede, âFâFucking cum, Gguk. Cum inside me, fuck.â
He nods, slamming you down to meet his movements, desperate to feel you before he can stop himself, âCum with me, pleasâ Oh.â
When your walls spasm around him with your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave, causing you to shake in his embrace around you, he feels himself cum unannounced, hard and thick, sprouts of white liquid relentlessly pumping inside your warmth.
You milk him dry, both your wails drained with the effort and fading into breathless gasps, his arms around you falling limply at his sides. Youâre sprawled on his chest, emptied from any energy, and he is just as spent with his head lolling against the back of the couch.
But you feel it in your heartbeats syncing, the realization of what happened, what finally happened. You feel it in his face moving down to find your lips and catch them in a sweet peck, his fingers trailing up again to trace lazy patterns on your back before tangling in your hair, grounding himself in you.
Itâs your own smiles breaking through the kiss, lashes tickling, and both of you laugh senselessly as you come down from the moment.
âFuck,â Jeongguk breathes out, voice raspy, âThis was the best Christmas gift ever.â
You snicker, biting your lip to hold back your amusement, âOh, baby. It was just an excuse to fuck you. I actually did forget your gift at home.â
âWâWhat?â His brows shoot up, his post-orgasm haze momentarily replaced with incredulity as his cheeks redden even more.
When Jeongguk straightens on the couch, so do you, steadying your weak frame with your hands splayed against his chest. Sheepishly, you confess, âYeah. Bought you that Mario game yoââ
âPrincess Peach: Showtime?â
âYeaââ
Jeongguk gasps dramatically, his excitement so pure itâs almost jarring considering what just transpired, and that heâs no longer a virgin, âGod, I fucking loveâ that game. That is the best Christmas gift ever.â
You canât hold back your laughter this time, shaking your head at how easily he slips back into his usual self, the one that had you buying a Victoriaâs Secret set in that shade of burgundy he said he didnât like just to attempt a crazy chance at having him.
Leaning forward, you press a lingering kiss to his lips that brings you back to the realization that you finally did get to have him, before murmuring against them, âWell, that and a second round. What do you say?â
âPlease.â
#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook au#jungkook imagine#jungkook smut#jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook x female reader#jungkook x original character#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x oc#bts smut#bts imagines#bts fic#bts series#bts x reader#bts#bts x you#bts x y/n#bts x fem!reader#đŠ: christmas & chill#đc&c: intro
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the pro
part ii: what we're willing to accept
Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader
Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.
Notes: My brain chose violence this morning. Not beta-read because when is it ever.
Length: 4.8K
Warnings: Slow burn; unhappily married reader; divorced Art Donaldson; infidelity; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; unsafe sex
Summary: Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You donât know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.
He's the biggest men's tennis star since Andy Roddick.
Thatâs what your husband says, as if itâll entice you. As if you know anything about tennis, about the pro that your husband says will be coming to the house to teach you to play.
Itâll be good for you. You need a hobby.Â
You donât gripe or argue. You donât tell him that five months into your marriage shouldnât have you looking for a new hobby. You should still be in the honeymoon stage, spending all of your time with him, hanging off of his arm, off of his every word. But he works so much and heâs away so oftenâ
I donât want you to get bored.Â
Itâs a sweet gesture. The maid handles the housework; you have a chef that handles most of the grocery shopping and cooking, unless you insist on making something yourself; you have a housekeeper that arranges for anything you needâdry cleaning, maintenance. And itâs no wonder that with all of his money, his power, he can just order a retired pro tennis player up to your house, like youâd order a pizza. Thereâs a tennis court in the back of the mansion, a few feet from the pool. Youâll get some new outfits, the best sneakers, the nicest rackets. Youâll finally have something to do to fill your days.Â
Art Donaldson.Â
You know his name before the lean, fair-skinned patrician man turns up at your front door. He trails you through the house, politely declines your offer of a beverage.Â
âYou ever played tennis before?â He asks.Â
You havenât. Before your husband arranged this for you, you hadnât so much as given the sport more than a passing thought. You donât have the heart or confidence to tell that to a man thatâs made tennis his whole life, so you just give him a small, guilty smile and say no, you havenât. He nods, waves you off, insists that itâs fine.Â
âWeâll start with the basics.âÂ
--Â
Two months of lessons on the basics make your arms tired, and your hands sore. But where your swings are clumsy and your grip is weak at first, you can see improvement in the way that you move. Your steps are less clumsy when you go after a ball; youâre more aware of the service line and the base line; your forehand stroke from contact to your left shoulder is smoother; your rotation and follow-through on your backhand is coming along, but has a long way to go.Â
Artâs instruction is calm and steady. He explains technique as much as he demonstrates it. When you get something wrong, he doesnât scold, just lightly corrects. When you do something well, his encouragement is constant and free-flowing. Every accurate move and motion is met with, âNice,â or, âPerfect,â or, âThatâs it.âÂ
On the days when you donât have a lesson with Art, you practice. You order a tennis ball machine to work on your forehand and backhand. You attempt (and fail) to learn how to slice on your own. You try anywayâyou can only imagine the way his eyes might light up if you manage to surprise him.Â
Youâve tried to ignore the rising interest that you have in Art, but you canât help the littleâŠCrush thatâs developed. Heâs just so attentive, and kind. When you find yourself smiling these days, itâs often because of something that he said, or did. You canât remember the last time your husband made you feel giddy this way. It was probably when you started datingâbefore youâd made the decision to marry for comfort, rather than love. Your husband is practical, rarely physically affectionate, more heavily involved in his job and social circles than with you.Â
But youâll have to find a way to thank him. Heâs given you a hobby, and a man that grins at you like you just painted the goddamn Mona Lisa when you serve your first ace.Â
--Â
âSo, tell me about the Mark Rebellato Academy.âÂ
Art smiles, dipping his head as he reaches for his coffee. Itâs taken a few months, but you finally convince him to have something to drink with you after practice. Your chef is blessedly out shopping for ingredients for dinner, so you have the kitchen all to yourself. Art has watched you putter around, seeming surprised that you know where everything is. You canât blame him; the kitchen is chef-grade, and you donât cook much these days.Â
âDid your husband tell you thatâs where I went?âÂ
âNo.âÂ
âThen how do you know?âÂ
Youâre too embarrassed to admit that youâve done some googling, and watched a couple of clips of him interviewing before and after his matches.Â
âIâve just heard,â You fib. âTell me about it?âÂ
He leans back in his seat, eyes skating across your face as he seems to consider something.Â
âWhat do you wanna know?âÂ
âDid you enjoy it? I meanââ It feels like a dumb question once itâs out, and you hurry to redirect, âWith what you know now, if you had the choice, would you have learned how to play tennis somewhere else?âÂ
He considers for a moment, trailing his finger over the side of his cup. Your gaze flits to his fingers, and your own flex around your mug handle. Youâve spent far too much time looking at and thinking about Artâs fingersâtheir length and quickness; the slight roughness of his calloused hands; the lingering tan line from where his wedding band used to sit.Â
âYeah,â He admits, drawing your full attention back to his face. âI would. It was foundational, you know. Iâve been thinking of sending Lily there.âÂ
âLily?âÂ
A bittersweet smile twists his lips. âMy daughter.âÂ
âOh!â It catches you off-guard. Â
âTashi, uhââ He clears his throat, âLilyâs mother, my ex-wife. She and I are thinking about schools.âÂ
âIâm sure theyâd be glad to have her. Does she play tennis?âÂ
âLittle bit. She didnât start until last year, but she's a natural.â He clears his throat again, presses, âAre you and your husband planning on having kids?âÂ
âOh god no.â You blurt it out, and realize as he raises his brows that youâve spoken too quickly. You lean back in your seat, stirring your coffee quickly to distract yourself from your growing embarrassment. âHe actually has kids already. Two girls, seven and ten. Theyâre at boarding school and they stay with their mother when they're on vacation. I havenât gotten to spend much time with them.âÂ
â...He seems to be pretty busy.âÂ
âHe is.âÂ
âSo itâs just you in this big house?â He tips his head to the side, brows knitting with curiosity. âWhat do you do all day?âÂ
âPlay tennis.â
He grins, chuckling, and your stomach flips at the sound.Â
âIt shows, you know,â He says.Â
âWhat do you mean?âÂ
âI can tell youâre practicing without me. And,â He leans across the table, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin of your bicep, âYouâre getting stronger.âÂ
You wonder if he can see or feel the goosebumps that break out across your skin at the gentle sweep, his gaze heavy on yours.
âI have a good teacher,â You murmur. Artâs lips twitch with a soft smile, his hand gently cupping your arm.Â
âJust good?â He plies.Â
âThe best. A real pro.âÂ
His smile widens, and the flash of his tongue sweeping across his lower lip makes your face go hot. You know that youâre caught when Artâs touch becomes firmer, pulling your arm toward him just a little.Â
The sound of approaching footsteps startles you, and you hurriedly tug your arm away. The sight of your husband makes your heart leap into your throat.Â
âThere you are,â He smiles. âArt, howâs she doinâ?âÂ
âSheâs killing it.âÂ
You donât dare look at him, but you can feel the weight of his attention lingering on you still. You just give your husband a smile, tipping your cheek up obligingly as he leans down to kiss it.Â
âActually, Art,â Your husband straightens up, hands resting on your shoulders. âIâm glad I caught you. Thereâs a charity event for a local club this month. Itâs for uhâŠWhat is it?â He squeezes your shoulders for answers, and you have to keep from rolling your eyes.Â
âItâs a charity tennis match to raise funds to fix up the local courts. They need resurfacing and theyâre raising funding to keep the fees down.âÂ
âWe could use a sponsorship from the foundation,â Your husband adds.Â
âHoney,â You glance back, wary of insulting Art. Butâ
âIâll do it,â Art agrees. âSend me the details.âÂ
âExcellent,â Your husband grins. âMaybe we could coax you into a match or two.âÂ
You donât chastise him this timeânot when you see something light up in Art.
âMaybe.âÂ
--Â Â
You havenât seen Art play before. Youâve specifically avoided it. Youâve known that when you saw it, you would be too intimidated to do a damn thing on the court with him. But now, you canât stop watching him. You donât even care that you probably look so out of placeâwhere everyone else is watching the ball, youâre just watching him.Â
His movements are so neat, so precise. Itâs like watching a dance. Heâs running the poor guy on the other side of the net up and down the court. And the sounds that heâs makingâgod. Every little grunt and groan is weaving increasingly filthy thoughts in your mind. You already know that youâll seek out the memory of those sounds, as you reach between your legs later. His shirt clings to his chest, showcasing the muscles that youâve always suspected he has. Strands of hair plaster to his forehead as sweat drips over his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, over his jaw.Â
When he scores a match point and he looks toward the cheering crowdâwhen his eyes land on you instantly, without having to searchâitâs like youâve been hit by a bolt of lightning. You canât think, or move. You barely have the focus to applaud, but you manage to raise your hands and clap.Â
--Â
Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You donât know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.Â
Coffee becomes a post-lesson ritual. He starts to stick closer and closer to you as he follows you into the house until he begins to rest his hand on your lower back, guiding you to your door. He keeps nearby when youâre making it, brushes droplets of sweat off of your forehead or neck. Every touch is electrifying; you have to make a concentrated effort to keep your hands steady, your face neutral as your heart pounds and your stomach floods with butterflies.Â
He pushes you harder on the court, and you force yourself to meet the level that he sets for you, even when you donât feel confident in it. But you want to make him proud.Â
It spurs you to lunge a little too far.Â
The sharp stabbing pain in your left ankle makes you shriek, and you tumble to the ground, dropping the racket with a clatter. You hear the pounding of his feet, glance up just in time to see him clear the net before heâs on the ground at your side.Â
âWhat hurts?âÂ
âMy ankle,â You grit out, hissing softly as he helps you straighten your leg out. He smooths his hands over your calf, leaning over you and gently guiding your foot in a few different directions. You whimper as he starts to guide your foot to the left.Â
âOkay, okay,â He soothes, âLetâs get you inside.âÂ
For as much as you damn the throbbing in your ankle, you thank it a little, too. You lean heavily against Art, making the slow, arduous journey back to the house with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle.Â
When your husband comes home, he finds you with on the couch with Art coming back in from the kitchen, an ice pack in your hand.Â
Youâd hope for concern, but your husband frowns, glances at the swelling knob of your ankle, and simply asks: âWhat did you do?âÂ
âShe lost her balance.â Art sits down on the other end of the couch, soothing you as the chill of the ice pack makes you shift with discomfort.Â
âAre you going to be able to walk tomorrow?â Your husband presses. âWe have dinner at the Finemanâs.â
âI'm still going, don't worry about that."
â...Tomorrow might be a bit soon,â Art warns.Â
âIâll be okay. Itâs just a sprain, right?â You tip your brows up, hoping, praying that heâll agree for your sake. His fingers flex around the ice pack, jaw ticking as he clenches it. He doesnât say a word as your husband sighs heavily, grumbles, âI hope so. Still, we should put a pause on the lessons until sheâs fighting fit again.âÂ
Art finally tears his eyes from yours, a tight smile on his lips.Â
âOf course.âÂ
--Â
âHowâs the ankle?âÂ
It takes you a moment to scrounge up an answer. You canât believe that he called. You knew that Art had gotten your number when you started taking lessons with him, but heâs never used it beyond texting to confirm a lesson time now and again.Â
You look down at the still-swollen flesh as it strains against the thin strap of your slingbacks.Â
âFine,â You lie, âItâs umââ You glance over your shoulder, listening for your husband. âItâs not that bad.âÂ
âGood enough to walk on?âÂ
Hardly.Â
âYes.â You think youâve gotten away with it, but when you hear Art sigh and chastise, âYou should rest,â You know that you havenât.
âI have,â You insist, âAll day.âÂ
âAre you sure youâre alright?âÂ
âYes.âÂ
âYou can tell him no, you know.â
Your mouth works wordlessly, body going hot with indignation. You canât think of a thing to say. You canât tell him that heâs wrong, that your husbandâs connections are the lifeblood of his business. You canât tell him that if your husbandâs business falls apart, you won't be able to afford those tennis lessons, and then how the hell are you supposed to see Art again?Â
You just yank your phone away from your ear and hang up.Â
--Â
I invited Art.Â
It shouldnât be a surprise, but your husbandâs statement makes you feel like youâve swallowed your tongue. You havenât seen or spoken to Art in nearly two weeks. Your doctor recommended putting off any physical activity, which your husband surely relayed to him. He was the one whose name was on Artâs checks, after all.Â
Your husband has always thrown a massive party to kick off the summer. Every year, 150 of your husbandâs closest family, friends, and business associates flooded into the house. It shouldnât be such a surprise that your husband invited Art after the performance he had given at the fundraiserâ$25,000 from the foundation, and ticket sales went through the roof when it had been announced that the Art Donaldson would be making an appearance. Your husband owed Art a lot, and probably saw this as an opportunity for him to network, to take on more clients. He had been evangelizing Artâs training to any of your friends that would listenâhow good you are on the court, how engaged and energetic you seem to be these days.Â
Itâs one thing to know that youâll have to put on a happy face for the crowd, but to know that Art will be among them makes your insides twist with nerves. You canât stop thinking about the way that he had spoken to you when you were hurt; his calm, steadying demeanor as heâd gotten you inside; the careful coaxing and gentle touch that heâd used as heâd taken your shoe off and examined your ankle more closely.Â
You think about it now, as you strap on another pair of heels. Your ankle really is doing well, though you have a little lingering pain in shoes like these. Youâll likely be on your feet for the length of the party; itâs going to be a long night. You look over yourself in the mirror, self consciously tipping your ankle from side to side for anything that he may spot or catch out. But thereâs nothing, you reassure yourself. You slide your hands over the skirt, plastering on a smile as your husband pokes his head into your dressing room.Â
âAlmost ready in here?â He asks.Â
âAll set!âÂ
--Â
He doesnât come over to you. On the crowded patio, you can feel him watching youâyouâve gotten so used to seeking out the sensation that you canât ignore it now. The first true look at him is agony. He watches you from just a few feet away, a glass of champagne in hand as he speaks with your husband and the Finemans. He openly looks you over, eyes drifting over your body to the flash of ankle revealed by the slit in your dress. He tips his head to the side just a little, squinting before his eyes flit back up to your face, lips twitching with a small smile.Â
You want to hate how good it feels; you want to be angry with him for his smug knowing, his insistence of You can tell him no, you know. But it feels so goddamn good to have his attention again that you canât bring yourself to be annoyed. You know that youâre staringâthat you both areâand you force yourself to turn away and excuse yourself from the conversation youâre in. You go inside, murmuring your thanks for the waitstaff that pass you along the way.
The house isnât nearly as busy as the patio, and you're able to slip into your darkened study unnoticed. You leave the lights off, certain that if you turn them on, people will be drawn in to bug you, like moths to a flame. The partyâs lights and music filter in through the partially-closed blinds.Â
You lean against the desk, circling your ankle and wincing a little. Youâll hide for a few minutes, let it restâ
Your breath catches in your throat as the door opens. You expect your husband, ready to scold and usher you back to the guests.Â
You only have a second to get a look at Art before he shuts the door behind himself, plunging the room back into darkness. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the desk as you use it to ground yourself.Â
â...Do you need something?â You ask, voice wobbling with nerves.Â
âWanted to come say hi.âÂ
âWell. Hi.âÂ
You hear him chuckle, his footsteps muted by the carpet.Â
âThanks for the invite.âÂ
âIt wasnât my idea.â Itâs not polite to admit, but you want it to sting him, just a little. Maybe it does; in the dim of the room, you canât see Artâs expression as he comes to a stop just a couple of feet from you.Â
âDo you want me to go?â He asks. You know what you should say, but you canât bring yourself to say it.Â
âNo,â You whisper. You feel the heat of him as he comes closer, his hands resting on the desk and caging you in. You bite your lip as gently brushes his nose against yours.Â
âHe isnât taking care of you.âÂ
âMy ankle is fine.âÂ
âIâm not talking about your ankle.â He lifts a hand, smoothing it over your hip as your breath mingles. Artâs fingers drift from your hip to stroke over the apex of your dressâs slit. His fingers slip further down, and you nod as he palms your thigh. Before you can say or do a thing, Art sinks to his knees. He curls his hand around your left calf, lifting it. You shiver as his lips press a gentle kiss to your ankle. His hand and lips travel up, easing the fabric of your dress higher with each second. The first brush of his knuckles against your panty-covered clit makes you jolt. Your hands dig into the wood of the desk as his fingers hook between the fabric and your skin. You lift your hips without a word, allowing him to draw them down.Â
Art presses a kiss to your mound before he lowers his head, giving your lips a sweet, sucking kiss. You gasp softly as his tongue swipes across your clit. You look down despite the fact that you canât see him well. You can just make out his blissful expression, his eyes closed as his laps broadly across your aching cunt. You lower your hand to his neat hair, winding your fingers through it, unable to help grasping it. His heady moan vibrates against you and you nearly cry out at the sensation. You manage to just catch it, the sound dying in your throat as Art buries his tongue inside you. He sweeps his thumb over your clit in rush, harried circles, panting against your heated flesh. You rock your hips down against his lips, tightening your grip on his hair as you guide him. He lets you do as you please, whining against your skin as your movements become less controlled.
âArt,â You warn, âIâOh, oh godââÂ
He hums in encouragement, sucking your clit back between his lips and lashing it with his tongue. Your jaw drops open, your hand shoving Art even more tightly against your skin as you cum suddenly. A stunned, breathy moan slips from your lips as Art leans back, smearing his lips against the inside of your thigh.Â
You use your grasp on Artâs hair to draw him back up off of his knees, giving him a crushing kiss as he catches his balance. You swipe your tongue across his lips, whining against his lips as you taste yourself on him. He presses close, his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You reach down, palming and squeezing his length as you trade slick, messy kisses. He steers you back onto the desk as you fumble to undo his belt, button, and zip.Â
âCondom?â He asks.Â
âPill,â You reassure, shoving his pants down. You lap broadly across your palm, grasping Artâs length and guiding him closer. He brushes the tip of his cock against your still-throbbing clit, smiling as you whine. Youâre going to ache tomorrow, but youâve never been so happy to be sore.
âArt.âÂ
âSssh.âÂ
âPleaseâïżœïżœïżœ Itâs hardly out of your mouth before he shoves his hips forward, seating himself fully with a single thrust. You bite down on your lip to quiet your moan, curling your arms around your shoulders. He rocks into you with firm, quick strokes, his mouth covering yours. You can hear things on the desk rattling with each thrust, kisses growing less controlled as he hoists your thigh up around his hip.Â
âOh, god,â You breathe, âWe have to be quickâHeâll come lookingââÂ
âNot until you cum for me again,â He urges. âI need to feel it, sweetheart.âÂ
âArtââÂ
âWhenâs the last time he did this? Hmm?â He presses, âWhenâs the last time he made you cum? Whenâs the last time he tasted you?âÂ
âNever,â You admit with a shiver. It seems to renew Artâs passion, his thrusts and hold growing more intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands hooking tightly in the fabric of his jacket. He yanks the front of your dress down, bowing over you and drawing one of your nipples between his lips. You whimper as he toys with the bud, tugging it gently with his teeth before swiping across it. You arch into the slick heat, using your leg to tug him even closer as you chased the swelling curl of your orgasm.Â
âJust like that,â You urge, âFfffuckâyes, yesyesyesyesââ
Your eyes squeeze shut as your hips buck down against his, pussy pulsing as he spills into you. Your heart pounds in your chest as the two of you slow and still. Art rests his forehead heavily against your neck, peppering gentle kisses across the exposed skin. You have to moveânow. You donât know if anyone heard you, but if someone did, youâre screwed. If no one did, your husband will probably be looking for you anyway, ready with a scold for neglecting your hostess duties.Â
â...I have to go,â You warn softly. It takes Art a moment to move, but he does, gently drawing himself back from your still-throbbing cunt. You hear the clanking of his belt buckle as he tucks himself away, and you reach down, righting your dress where itâs been pulled away. You take up your panties from where theyâd been discarded on the floor, tugging them on before you straighten your skirt and hurry out of the room.Â
--Â Â
âCan I see you?âÂ
Itâs only been an hour since the last guest has left, and you are so, so fucking tired. You glance toward the bathroom door. You know that you locked it, and youâre certain that your husband canât hear you over the shower running, but you canât help but be paranoid.
âYou just saw me,â You remind him.Â
âTomorrow,â Art clarifies.Â
âWhere?âÂ
âIâll send an address.âÂ
You bite your lip, toying with your earring. Your pussy is still aching from the stretch of him, your ass sore from getting fucked on the desk.Â
â...You regret it?â He asks.Â
âNo,â You don't give your answer a second thought.
âIâll send an address. Whether or not you see me is up to you. JustâŠthink about it. Okay?âÂ
âOkay.âÂ
You lower your phone, hanging it up and watching his contact information blink away. Itâs only a moment before a text with an address lights up your phone. You donât have to think about it. You already know what youâre going to do.Â
--Â Â
You know that youâre staring, but you canât bring yourself to stop. Art has spent so much time in your home, so you feel entitled to look around a little bit. You eye the row of trophies on his mantle, photos of him playing when he was young. You come to a stop at a picture of him with a young girl, a racket in her hand and a medal around her neck.Â
âIs this Lily?â You ask.Â
âYeah,â He nods. âFirst competition.âÂ
âAlready getting gold,â You smile. âThe Mark Rebellato Academy isnât ready for her.âÂ
Art chuckles, nodding as he steps around you.
âYou, uhâŠYou want something to eat, or drink, orâŠ?â He trails off, tucking his hands into his pockets as he takes a couple of steps back toward his kitchen. You turn to face him, taking him in more fully.Â
âArt?âÂ
âYeah?âÂ
âWhy am I here?âÂ
He doesnât answer for a few moments. You can see him weighing his options before he comes closer.Â
âIâŠIâve been thinking about last night.âÂ
Fear shoots through you, but you force yourself to stand tall. âOkay.â
âI could lie and tell you that it should be a one-time thing, but I canât remember the last time I got through a day without thinking about you. And I think youâve been thinking about me, too.â Art stops as the tip of his shoes brush against yours, and you let your eyes slip closed as he rests his forehead against yours.Â
âTell me Iâm wrong,â He pleads. âTell me to fuck off right now and I will never say another non-tennis related thing to you again.âÂ
--Â
When he fucks you, he curls close, chest pressing against yours as he catches your lips in a kiss. You sink back against his pillows, your head cradled by his broad palm as he rolls his hips achingly slowly. You donât bother to hide your whines and moans, and you revel in his. Every grunt and whimper and groan that Art lets out lights you up.Â
And when you cum, you don't have to quiet yourself. His name tumbles out of your mouth, cushioned between expletives as your nails dig into his shoulders.
--
"What time is he home tonight?"
You don't want to think about it. You want to stay in this cozy little bubble, trailing your fingers over his muscled chest as he massages your nape and kisses your forehead.
But you know that you'll have to let the world back in sometime.
"I don't know," You admit. "Late."
"...Could stay."
"He'll be suspicious if I'm not home when he gets there."
Art sighs softly, running his hand down to rub between your shoulder blades.
"This isn't going to be easy, is it."
"What?"
"Letting you go every day."
"Every day?" You tease, pushing yourself up to get a better look at him. "Don't get greedy, Mr. Donaldson."
He smiles, raising his hand and cupping your cheek. "Is it greedy to know what I want?"
You shake your head a little, lowering your lips to brush against his.
"Not when I want it, too."
part ii: what we're willing to accept
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#Art Donaldson x Reader#Art Donaldson x You#Art Donaldson/Reader#Art Donaldson/You#Art Donaldson fic#Art Donaldson imagine#the pro
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ANGEL â SAM WINCHESTER.
SUMMARY â sam starts to grow fond of an angel. they have grown more comfortable around each other, and tensions run high when dean leaves for a bar.
WARNINGS â no plot all porn... 18+, softdom!sam, unprotected sex, p in v, oral, f!receiving, unexperienced!reader, angel!reader, LOTS of praise, biting, creampie, mentions of religion, sam's a sweetheart. he's also a freak.
WC â 4.3k. i got carried away.
A/N â i feel like i'm going to hell just from the warnings alone. i erm. i don't even know. shout out the two people who asked to get tagged in this đ first ever smut fic, if you hate i'll probably delete my account. i am not editing 4.3k words btw. i'm lazy.
angels weren't supposed to enjoy the feeling of a human. that much was well known.
and when you came from heaven to assist castiel in whatever the hell it was that he was doing, that was repeated to you over and over again. these 'humans', they weren't important. your only job was to make sure sam winchester didn't get hurt. that was all this was supposed to be. a casual round of protecting the winchesters.
you didn't understand human norms, and at first, sam didn't like you. you didn't take personally, of course, because, well, sam hated any angel at first. castiel quickly explained to you about the brother's and how you'd be spending more time with them while he awaited directions. honestly, you couldn't care less about either of the brothers, too. they were hunters, and you were an angel. you weren't supposed to mix anyway.
sam winchester was more interesting than his older and shorter brother, though. sam was thoughtful and a lot more curious about you than he let on at first. as you spent more time 'watching' over him, you realized he enjoyed asking you questions about heaven, and the angels, and about castiel. and you tried to answer them to the best of your ability.
sam was more open to learning about you than dean, and he was more considerate when it came to teaching you knew things. slowly, he started defending you against dean's antics, and he learned about how curious you were, too.
he spent many late nights awake with you, struggling with his insomnia. you made it much more enjoyable. on the off chance that he did get some sleep, he'd wake up to you in the bunker, lounging and reading one of his books. as soon as you saw him awake, you'd pounce on him, eager to talk all about it.
sam found you endearing in the same way you found him intriguing. you both taught each other different things. he taught you about different emotions and how to communicate them to him. he showed you his favorite movies. he told you about his time in standford and about how he was studying law. you taught him about the bible, about praying and how you'd always come if he prayed for you. you taught him about heaven and hell, and angels and everything in between.
eventually, you two become friends, as much as younger sam would have hated to admit that. he showed you what friendship was and what it was like to worry about someone more than yourself. he explained to you what love was and about heartbreak. sam watched as you turned from this unemotional, blunt angel into a person, crafted by the things you loved.
you two kissed about six months after hunting with him. you were unexerienced, and painfully so, and your first kiss was nothing but giggles and awkward stares. the second, third, and fourth ones weren't any better. sam was ridiculously dotting and patient, and even though you were an angel and didn't understand what a relationship was, you still tried for him, and he loved you for it.
after a week of sneaky kisses and rushing into each other's rooms once dean fell asleep, you seemed to have gotten the hang of it. you and sam hadn't done anything remotely sexual other than a few hands-under-the-bra's and one /bad/ attempt at a handjob. sam was enthralled in watching you become more confident and learning how to touch him the way that he liked and how to kiss him properly. so he didn't mind taking things slow.
you two agreed to not have sex yet, partially because to you, it was a sin, and partially because you didn't know what you were doing. sam had no issue waiting. that was, until tonight.
you don't even remember how this happened, honestly â the lingering touches became more frequent, more needy, and at some point, sam had slipped you out of your shirt and bra. you'd barely even made it to his room /thank god for dean being out at a bar tonight/, before he was kissing you, his lips hiding something more intense tonight.
you wouldn't have protested anyways, but as soon as your shirt was gone, sam was all over you.
"i know it feels dirty, honey. but it's not. i wouldn't lie to you." sam hums against your throat, kissing the soft skin. when he talks like that, all low and soothing, you might just believe anything he says. he pulls back to look at your concerned expression, and his smile softens.
his movement stills, and you frown, almost wishing sam would convince you to do more. that feeling in your stomach, the one that felt close to nausea, started to feel nice. and you craved more of it. you craved more of sam.
although his desire outweighed his guilt for ruining the purity of an angel like this, sam still sat up for a moment, his hazel eyes practically begging you. he was nothing, if not a gentleman. "do you want this?" sam asks, hushed and spoken like a prayer, and you think you might get sent to hell just from how he's looking at you.
sam's hair is a ruffled mess, and his long sleeve black shirt was rolled up to his elbows. his carhartt jacket had long been discarded by you, tossed somewhere into the dark abyss that was the dingy, horribly lit motel room. he looks beautiful.
"i do, sammy, butâ" you breathe out shakily. before you can finish answering, his hands are on your hips, tugging you closer to him. you're both standing up, his large hands moving up your skirt to trail up your sides. sam can feel your back arch against his hands slightly, and it's taking everything in him to not lose his resolve.
san, who previously said he was okay with waiting, felt like a selfish man tonight. he could honestly care less about your innocence right now. what he did care about was you, though. sam knew that if you wanted him to continue, he wouldn't be able to stop.
"but what?" sam mumbled, his fingertips digging against your hips. his erection was pressed dangerously against your thigh. he shifted you until you were pressed against him â he knew what he was doing and the effect it was having on you. you didn't answer and could only grumble a complaint out.
"just needa taste you, honey. we don't have to go all the way if you don't want to." sam's words are a contradiction to how he was staring at you. "although, i have thought about doing more." he hums, and he has a slight shit eating grin on his face. it's sort of surprising that this is your sweet sammy.
you're conflictedâ this is wrong. sinful. but there was a bubbling heat in your stomach, and you wanted nothing more than to make sam feel good. maybe a part of being human was indulging in your sins. you pout at him slightly, and sam has to stop himself from moving his hips up against you. he doesn't just want this, he needs this. he needs to corrupt you, to ruin your innocence until all you can think about is him.
"fine. be gentle, though, sam. i mean it." you relent, although you didn't need much convincing. honestly, if he tried to pull off of you, you'd be the one begging him to touch you and not the other way around.
"oh, fuckâ" sam groans, and he almost instantly falls to his knees. his hands are tugging off your jeans faster than you can process. "you don't know how long i've wanted this." his tone makes you feel dirty, and you can't help when your brows crumple into a slight glare. you didn't know what he was doing, but you wanted him to hurry it up.
you help him kick your jeans off around your ankles and step out of them. you're left in your cotton panties, and for some reason, it turns sam on more to know you weren't planning for this. honestly, neither was he.
"leave these on." two fingers slip underneath the elastic by your thigh, tugging them and letting them go, the fabric snapping against your skin. the action makes you suck in a breath. sam's lips make their way to your upper thighs, sucking and kissing at the sensitive skin. it's not enough, and he knows that. he's driving you crazy on purpose to see you squirm for him.
"samâ" you chastise, like a scold, your hand running through his hair and tugging on it gently, trying to bring your hips closer to him. sam fucking moans. he moans at getting his hair pulled, and it makes your brows crease in bewilderment. /you would definitely be keeping that in mind./
sam looks up at you with those same puppydog eyes, and you swear you're going to burst into literal flames and have your wings removed instantly. "needa taste my girl's pussy. y'gonna let me?" sam says softly, his voice muffled by your thigh, gently biting on a spot. when you whimper, he pulls back to kiss at the forming bruise, his hands massaging at the fat of your ass.
truth be told, you'd probably let him fold into a pretzel at this point, but you didn't want to stroke his massive ego.
the noise you make is answer enough, and sam deftly pulls your panties to the side. his hand brings yours to hold them. he needs *both* hands for devouring you. sam's two middle fingers move to collect your slick from your folds, and you shiver. his brows raise, and he smiles again. "you're soaked, baby. you really want me that bad?" he asks, and you're nodding quickly.
sam can't hold back when you look this pretty above him. you can feel his breath against you. even just looking at you bare in front of him is enough to make him want to cum in his fucking jeans.
he flattens his tongue against you, and your hips stutter against his mouth. you've never felt anything like this before. you can feel sam's grin against your cunt, his hands cupping into your ass and pulling your hips further into his mouth.
seeing such a large man, especially one like sam, at his knees, lapping at your pussy like a fucking starved manâ it makes your head fuzzy.
without warning, his middle finger slips into you. your hands move to his hair to steady yourself, massaging at the brown strands, pushing some from off his sticky forehead. the concentration on his face is almost cute, but it soon becomes too hard to keep your eyes open.
another finger slips past your folds, and you're mouthing his name like a prayer. his fingers are rocking into you at a slow speed, but his mouthâ it was fucking dirty, the way he'd suck on your clit, only pulling away to breathe. everytime he pulled away, a string of saliva followed, connected between you two. his chin was slick with your arousal, his chest panting with heavy breaths. and then he was right back to devouring you.
maybe sam winchester was the devil.
your hands tug on his hair slightly, and sam groans against you. the heat in your stomach was building and sam was near drunk on your pussy. when he looked up at you with those hazel eyes, you moaned, your thighs tremoring.
"samâ sam, it feels too good... pleaseâ" you breathed out, panting too now, and sam didn't relent, no matter how hard you were tugging at his hair. his hand was holding your hip hard not daring to let you squirm away from him. indents of his fingertips would ruin your pretty skin by the morning. you had to shy away from his intense gaze.
sam pulled away, still fucking his fingers into you. "eyes on me, baby." he mumbled, before sinking flush against your clit again. you listened, although your face was an embarrassing hue of pink. sam was just as loud and needy, if not worse than you. everytime your thighs clenched around him, or you tugged on his hair, profanities and groans slipped from his lips. he needed you.
sam kept his tongue latched onto you, his eyes showing that he was as desperate as you were to make you cum. the noises he was making were filth, soft grunts and groans, all muffled by your puffy pussy. when your eyes flickered down, you noticed that one of his hands were palming himself through his jeans.
with every shake and spasm, it was like sam knew you were close. he was using his hands to rock your hips more onto his tongue, your weight practically suffocating him. sam would gladly die a happy man in between your folds, if it meant getting to look up at your beautiful face contorting in pleasure. his chest swells at the fact that he is the one who gets to touch you like this.
that feeling returned as quickly as it left, and soon you were cumming on his face, your legs shaking as he kept his fingers curled into your folds. that was probably the best thing you'd felt since coming to earth. sam pressed a kiss to your overstimulated clit, before kissing up your stomach, your breasts, collarbone, and finally standing to his full height over you.
"how was that?" sam asks, licking the wetness off his fingers. as much as he wanted to ruin you, he also wanted to make sure you were comfortable.
heavy pants still wracked both of your bodies, your thighs aching and barely able to hold your own weight. he had the audacity to ask that after making you feel things you hadn't felt in your centuries alive? in between deep breaths, you shot him a slight glare.
"what do you think?" you tutted, puffing his lips out in that gorgeous pout that made sam was to kiss you stupid, holding onto his biceps so you didn't lose balance.
sam grins in response, his hands moving to your bare hips, pressing you into him. his cock was fucking painfully hard and he had to refrain from rutting against you. "i need to fuck you, honey." fuck sam and his beautiful eyes, pleading at you. his hand leads your to palm him from over his jeans, and he moans softly, so prettily.
you were conflicted. you knew his cock would feel so much better than his fingers, but this was wrong. "sammyâ" you say in the same chastising voice that drives him insane.
"please, let me fuck you. need to feel you around my dick. fuck, doesn't even have to be all the way." sam pleads, and you have a hard time saying no to that. he was practically begging you. you sigh at how weak you were for this man. "please fuck me, sam."
sam eyes widen slightly, and he can't help his grin as he pushes you back against the bed. his eyes stay on you as he pulls his shirt off, discarding it across the motel floor along with all of yours. you can't help but stare at him. all tanned, scarred, and bruised, despite being young. it was so different compared to your imperfect skin, free of any blemishes or let alone scars.
sam's tantalizingly slow as he takes off his belt, followed by his jeans. he's fucking huge. that much you can tell by his bulge alone. your eyes widen slightly when he strips his boxers off.
he wanted to take his time with you, to treat you like the goddamn angel you were, to wrack every noise he can from your lips. but, sam was impatient as hell. and he was really, really hard.
"you're beautiful." sam coos, caging you in between his much larger frame. there is a shine in his gaze, so soft and loving, that it almost makes you feel queasy. he's not doing this because he's bored or because he wants to get off. sam's doing this because you're his world.
"you're alright." you respond, not able to hold back the giggle that escaped your lips afterward, especially when you felt sam's annoyed sigh against the crook of your neck. you can feel his irritated grin. sam fell in love with that devilish laugh of yours, and he found it endearing that even during this, he could make you sound like that.
it was such a sharp contrast from how emotionless and... awkwardâ you first were when you met the winchester brothers. sam has loved watching you adapt this sassy personality, loved eyeing you while you admire new things, hearing the way your voice heightened whenever you laughed, the way you took over parts of his and dean's own quirks and personalities.
"just alright? you wound me, angel."
this time, you rolled your eyes. you turn your head to the side to press your lips against the mole below his right eye. "you're beautiful too, sammy. you already know that." you huff out, your tone unmistakably soft. sam scoffed, nipping at her neck slightly. it was nice to hear that from you, regardless of what he thought about himself.
unfortunately for you, the compliment rushes to sam's head. he sits up slightly, his cock pressed against your lower stomach, a hand brushing over your cheek, moving your fanned hair out of your face. "are you sure you're okay with this? we can stopâ i'll put on a movie, and we can forgetâ"
you interrupt sam's worries by pressing a kiss to his palm. "yes sam, i'm sure. please." and that small act of intimacy followed by your voice pleading for him was enough reassurance for sam. no need to tell him twice.
sam pumps himself a few times, his eyes not once leaving yours. "scoot your hips up for me, honey." you oblige, and you can feel his cock pressed against your clothed entrance. the sight leaves nothing for the imagination and sam sighs as his fingers pulls your panties down to your ankles.
sam looks like he's in fucking heaven, his lips parted and staring at you bare in front of him. his thumb habitually moves to your clit, rubbing soft circles against it just to watch you squirm under him.
"sam, quit being a damn tease." you frown and wiggle your hips into his more. his gaze is making you shy, something you didn't know was even possible as an angel.
"innocent angel, my ass." sam mumbles under his breath, but he obliges, lining up his cock to you. he collects your slick with his tip, dragging the wetness over your already overstimulated clit. sam rubs it against your folds a few times, before pressing only about halfway in. the moan that leaves your lips is heavenly, so much so that sam's head has to fall to your shoulder and bites it softly so he doesn't cum too fast like a damn high schooler.
"you're so fucking tight, shitâ" sam groans and it's so dirty coming from him. he's usually so sweet to you, so hearing this is different. and arousing. but different. you'd expect this talk out of dean, not sam.
sam really wished he would've slept around a little more in college now because it was taking far too much concentration to not finish already.
"need to fuck you, baby. please." sam all but whimpers out. all of your beliefs, your nightly prayers, all of it was gone the second you felt him inside of you. you can only nod in response, your hands tugging at his waist to come closer to you.
sam stills, looking at you for a moment like he can't believe you want this. and slowly, he pushes in all the way, and you both share a pornographic moan.
sam is quiet as he lets you adjust to his size. he wasn't one to toot his own horn, but he was pretty big. and even though your vessel wasn't a virgin, mentally, you still were. sam had a mantra of things going through his head â the main ones being: please don't cum, please don't cum, please don't cum. don't say i love you. don't move too fast yet. let her adjust.
sam leans down to kiss your forehead. "good?" he hums.
you nod again. "hurts a little." and sam is nothing but patient, kissing each of your temples before brushing your hair away.
"i promise you're doing so good. it's gonna hurt for a moment. it'll feel better soon. just relax." sam murmured against your shoulder, his lips sighing down towards your collarbone. "gonna move now, sweet girl." calloused palms are pressing your thighs to your chest. he leans down enough so you can hold on to his shoulders if you need.
with one hand still on the back of your leg, and the other one cupping one of your breasts, he pulls out almost all the way before rocking in slowly. your eyes screwing shut from pleasure is enough to test the waters with a more heavy thrust. "that's it, baby. look at youâ" sam groans, his fingertips digging into your skin. his eyes were glued to where his cock was entering you rhythmically, and god, he could get addicted to that sight. sam could fucking see where the tip of his cock was pressing into your belly. his palm moved over it, adding slight pressure to your lower pelvis. the feeling made him groan out your name softly. he was just as loud as you were. "so beautiful."
part of you wanted sam to shut up so you could focus on the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock, but the other half of you enjoyed the flithy words leaving his flushed lips.
"oh, fuck. sammy, 's too muchâ" you whimpered out, your hand squeezing his biceps. your legs wrapped around his waist to bring him closer, the balls of your heels digging against his ass. sam think he likes that you're not very vocal. it makes every beg, every moan that much more special to him. he was the only one who got to see his angel falling apart like this.
everything about sam is fucking massive, from his height, to his sheer size difference over you. it shouldn't have been shocking that his dick was huge too, but you felt it now. you felt every single inch, stretching you out, your arousal slipping down his shaft. sam's thrusts grew more feverish, his shaggy brown bangs falling into his face as his head fell forward slightly. "i know you can handle it baby." he grunted in response to your plea, hazel eyes fucked out with lust.
that feeling in your lower belly returned, and now, at least, you know what it meant. it was overwhelming, but not enough for you. your hand reached for sam's hand, guiding it to you clit. sam thought that was the hottest thing he'd ever fucking seen, and shuddered slightly. "you wanna cum around my cock? is that it, sweetheart?" sam asks, a small, contemplating smile on his lips.
you're writhing under his cock, your back arching off the bed, his thumb rubbing soft circles around your nub. you tap his bicep in warning of your approaching orgasm, but he doesn't stop. he doesn't slow down either. in fact, he ruts his hips faster. the feeling of you clenching around his dick is enough to send him over the edge, too. he's biting down hard on his cheek to stop himself from cumming before you. he wants, needs to see you cum first, before he can.
your face contorts into pleasure, and you cum hard, sam still fucking you through your orgasm. he groans and his eyes close when he watches you making a mess all over him. "thaaat's it. that's my girl." he encourages, the feeling of your walls clenching around him tipping him over the edge. "fuck. gonna fill you up." he grunts against your shoulder, his hips stuttering slightly and you moan as you feel his cock twitch inside you, before you feel cum spurt into your cunt.
sam pulls out a moment after, his eyes blown out when he watches his spend leak from your pulsating hole. he uses two fingers to spread it around over your folds. once he's satisfied with his handiwork, he slumps down into the bed next to you.
you're still a panting, sighing mess. you feel your legs twitch occasionally, and you're finally coming to your senses. you were just fucked stupid by your best friend. a human.
"jesus, sam. is this really what humans are doing?" you ask, out of genuine curiosity, and sam pinches your side with a slight laugh. he looks spent, almost as bad as you. his head falls to your shoulder, pressing his lips to the soft skin present.
"the lucky ones, yeah." sam huffs in amusement. "you're okay, right? i didn't hurt you, or pressure you or anything?" his voice is a little persistent, worried, already overthinking like he wasn't just inside of you.
"'course not. that was amazing. i think i'd go to hell if it meant having sex everydayâ i see why castiel was encouraging me into trying this." you tilt your head to the side, and sam raises an eyebrow. he didn't even dare ask what odd things castiel told you about. nor did he want to know. he couldn't see castiel doing anyone without scaring them away with his bluntness first.
sam chooses to ignore that, leaning over to pepper kisses onto your cheeks, nose, and forehead. anywhere you'll let him at this point. "you did amazing. absolutely drained me. y'sure you haven't done that before?" he teases, and you roll your eyes at him. your eyes watched him with concern when sam stood.
"alright, crazy girl. let's get you cleaned up."
#sam winchester x reader#sam winchester#supernatural#dean winchester#dean winchester smut#sam winchester smut
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Concurrent Resurgence
A staggering impossibility had occurred on the night of your death. And now, reborn and unhinged; bound to that creature they call the Miles County Clown, you'd witness first-hand just how far your depravity could go.
17k words
Size kink
Art is so dominant I needed an outlet to express this
A staggering impossibility had occurred on the night of your death. Just like any regular woman, you screamed and cried and ran from the miles county killer, in a state of frenzy and terror up until the very end.
Your life hung on the precipice as you lay upon the ground, torn open from the midsection and gasping on wet breaths, watching that demonic clown hunker down low, leaning over your friend Vicky as he devoured her face.
You remembered the world becoming dimmer and dimmer, wondering when you'd be devoured next, hoping to God you'd die first so that you didn't have to feel the excruciating pain Vicky had.
Your wish had been granted mercifully, the sound of police sirens and shouting fading out as you heard the final cacophony of a gunshot, and then your world turned black.
Lying as a bloodied corpse in the morgue, you didn't expect to open yours eyes ever again, life beating steadily throughout you even as something dark and heavy like lead anchored you boundlessly to miles county.
You came to the conclusion that you and Art miraculously died at the same time, yours from your injuries while his was from a gunshot to the head. You both breathed your last breath, and now you were both alive.
It was as though his dying soul had latched onto your corpse, a shard of it replenishing what should have been dead and burdening you with rot, decay and evil.
Art had tried to kill you on many occasions since then. He was pleasantly surprised at seeing you whole again, grinning and waving jovially, eager to murder you all over again, only..
You couldn't die, it was as though you were both the oxygen and the blood that keeps one another alive; if one dies, so does the other.
It took some back and forth, cat and mouse antics to learn this. He'd try and catch you, gripping you by the hair with a mallet in the other hand, bringing it down in a devastating blow. You think he realised something had changed when you caught his wrist with an incredible strength you never used to possess and forced his head through a break wall.
Art had given you something, and he cursed you because he knew he could never get it back.
You were two halves of the same coin, polar opposites and yet vastly similar now. Humanity remained within you, somewhere, but your emotions became dim, your morals deathly low, and evil began festering.
You became violent. Explosive, uncharacteristically wrathful. It didn't feel wrong, either. It felt good, and the effort it took not to absolutely maim someone was immeasurable.
Still, humanity lingered in certain things you did, and especially the way you processed emotions, even if they were as muddled as dirty water.
You and Arts lives were intertwined now, and although he had eventually gotten over the fact that he couldn't kill you, you saw him more often than you liked, your meetings often tedious and full of hate.
For the most part, him seeing you often resulted in the biggest, most dramatic eye roll you had ever witnessed, his middle finger sticking right up at you. He didn't find you fun anymore; you were as immortal as him, and that meant you were untouchable, as was he.
You don't know if it was coincidence or some sort of fucked up connection that made you cross paths so often. It made sense, considering a part of him lived within you.
And just like always, Art was there to make everything worse.
For the longest time you tried avidly to enter civilisation again, whether that be from trying to get a decent job, to going to parties and attempting to make friends, or even just simple things like getting your hair done and a manicure.
Half of you wanted your humanity to be in complete control again, enjoying the freedom of joy and life. The other half began condemning regular humans, wanting to be forcefully ostracised from society and it's confinement.
Parties didn't help. On your list of things that did help, partying was the absolute rock bottom. Your alcohol tolerance was still horrifically low, and your ire and hate for the people around you jumped tenfold.
So, all that would really happen is you'd try as politely as possible to make friends at a party, get rejected, and savagely smash their heads into nearby picture frames. Or whatever happened to decorate the wall.
You'd then drink, alone, and become devastatingly drunk. And of course each and every time, Art would find a spare minute or two to observe you once you made your horrible walk of shame home, appearing from the darkness just to point and laugh at you and buckle over.
With your newfound strength and wrath, this often led to fights with you being the instigator.
Bottle in hand, you smashed it into the clowns face viciously, watching his expression turn to one of dramatic shock as he fell backwards from the force, your drunk self falling with him.
You were so intoxicated that once you hit his body you could hardly stand back up. Head laid against his shoulder awkwardly, you groaned and tried to ground yourself with a hand against his chest, collapsing with your feeble attempts.
You winced as your face made contact with the floor all of a sudden, Art having pushed you off roughly with a grimace.
Art knew he couldn't kill you, but he could break your ribs for good measure, grinning at the sickening crack of his boot ramming into your side. It caused you to vomit and go unconscious.
You woke up the next day in broad daylight, laying in the piss stained alleyway littered with rats. Chunks of your vomit and dirt spelling out 'Whore' across your forehead.
Since then, you and Art had toned down your rivalry somewhat, no longer fighting like cat and dog every other night, viciously finding ways to carve each other up.
You avoided each other for the most part. On occasion Art would seek you out just to be an asshole, slicing your cheek with a scalpel just after you'd finished doing your makeup, which infuriated you. Or after having your hair freshly done, he'd smear questionable substances all over it.
You had gotten so angry at that, that you'd went to his rotten workplace and tore half of it down before he managed to stop you.
Art - having realised the repercussions of having an enemy that he could not kill, that would be around with him forever and that would ruin his artisan-level work - certainly toned down his pestering.
You didn't see sight of him for a month after that. Let the asshole cry and lick his wounds, you had thought joyfully.
And now, he breaks into your home like it was his own, eating from your fridge and using your shower. You detested it at the beginning, throwing fully fledged tantrums at the fact that no matter what, you could not kill him. And hurting him too badly would in turn hurt you.
It was something you came to accept. After almost a year of fighting and stubbornness, you both began to yield, realising a stalemate when you saw one.
Art no longer smeared literal shit in your hair and you no longer broke his weapons. Seemed fair.
On the two year mark, Art frequented your home even more. Probably because it had everything he needed, and it had gotten to the point that you didn't even bat an eye at him. You'd still fight, where he'd end up laughing and mocking you and you'd end up furiously screaming at him, but it never really escalated from there.
Physical confrontation did happen rarely, but nothing..drastic. That shard of him within you had made you struggle to control your anger even after two years.
And then other times you sat silently on your settee, blanket drawn up to your chin as you watched a horror film alone. Just like every night, Art would come in and ignore you, but sometimes he'd be curious as to what you were doing, and flop down beside you far too casually.
You'd spare him a neutral glance, carelessly throwing the end of your large blanket at him. He'd excitedly accept it. He viewed it as one of your ritualistic customs when watching something you deemed as scary. Him accepting the blanket meant he was curious to know just what this 'terrifying' movie was about.
"Okay so, they can't find the key to unchain themselves to escape, so that guy has to saw his leg off.", you elaborated quickly, watching the scene unfold.
It wasn't your favourite film but it was on TV at the moment. Art folded his arms, watching patiently as the story proceeded. Your attention eventually faltered as a text message came through.
You responded promptly before putting your phone down. Then, another came through, and another, and you'd giggle to yourself quietly, typing. Art lolled his head back and to the side, watchful. You never really used that device anymore, he wondered what it was that gripped you so much.
He didn't have to wonder much longer as he ripped your phone from your hands and darted up, standing to his full height as he swiftly perused the text messages.
You jumped up after him, reaching a hand up to grab at him only for him to lift the phone above his head, gaze staring up to read them.
"Give me my phone now! I swear to God Art I'll fucking--", the rest of your complaining fell on deaf ears. Art rolled his eyes, all you ever did was pull tantrums and shout. And you never shut up, prattling on about one thing or another, screaming profanities and empty threats that Art didn't even deign to laugh at anymore, that's how common they were.
Eyes scanning the messages, a grin began to grow on his face, until full fledged laughter erupted silently. You seethed at him, clawing at his hands to try and grab it. Art eventually gave in, rolling his eyes at your continued threats, putting a hand against your shoulder and roughly shoving you away, phone thrown into your lap as you fell against the settee.
Before he left, Art turned back with his horn held between his legs obscenely, stroking it with a surprised face, eyebrows high and lips forming an 'o' shape.
You glared at him, but couldn't deny the way your cheeks reddened as his stroking got faster and his eyes rolled back in mock euphoria. You folded your arms and shrugged; you had nothing to say to that. Yes you were sexting some random guy and yes you wanted some dick.
Art tipped his hat with a dead expression, his mimicry representing a gentlemanly 'farewell and adieu', and his expression reading 'desperate whore'.
Before he finally departed, Art held up a scissors in one hand and a pliers in the other. He snipped them sassily, threateningly, grinning all the while.
"Yeah, well, if he's shit you're more than welcome to use them on him." You assured, and you meant it too. This guy seemed a little odd anyway, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
Art seemed pleasantly happy with that, giving you a thumbs up with his back turned as he left the house in his Santa getup.
It was probably because you were overly horny, but...
No, you shook your head. Now is not the time to think of him like that. Honestly, you were getting more depraved every week.
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You don't know what you were expecting, but it was.. anticlimactic.
You had become so sinful since your rebirth, average sex no longer doing it for you. The first guy was okay, an asshole, but okay. You tried so hard to be pleasant and normal but frustration and an unhinged desire coursed through you desperately.
It wasn't as though his dick wasn't to your liking, he was just so average and fucking human that you didn't even manage to get to the part that you desperately craved, your disgust evident.
Anyway, he seemed to think you had a bad attitude - you did - which led to arguing. You were not backing down and neither was he.
Raised voices turned into insults, both of you storming out of your bedroom and down the stairs as you reigned your anger in and told him to get out.
You could see Art from the front door, he must've came home at some point, focus taken from the TV as he watched you both scream at each other, boots propped up on your fucking coffee table which you told him not to do so many times-
And then your cheek was turning as this assholes hand met the side of your face.
You could feel your teeth clenching. Your face remained stoic, eyes burning with fury. You could see Art chuckling cruelly in the background, shoulders moving silently, incredibly invested in how this is going to play out.
It was only then did the asshole seem to notice a flash of black and white in the background, turning with an ugly scowl to the clown who now suddenly stood with a large smile, hands clenching and unclenching in anticipation.
He faltered, mild confusion and anger still evident in his scowl. An angry finger pointed in the clowns direction. "Who the fuck is that? You got a queue lining up after me, honey?" He spat the vile words at you, acidic and full of disgust.
You didn't have a chance to respond, lips quirking in mild amusement and eyes smouldered like a fiery, dark pit. The man scoffed, rolling his eyes at the demonic clown, before gazing back down at you with his lips snarling enough to bare his teeth.
"I knew there was something off about you, you fucking slut. Too proud to put out and, let's be honest," the man gave you a slow, disgusting once over, "not much to look at."
Something in you snapped, but all that came out was a gentle, breathy laugh, your eyes shining and dancing with a peculiar emotion. You wonder what it reflected. Judging by the way Art tilted his head from afar, assessing, before beginning to chuckle to himself even more, it must've been something ominous.
"What the fuck are you laughing at, asshole? Want me to come over there and give you something to really laugh at?!" The man roared at Art from across the room, utterly furious, fists clenched until the knuckles turned white.
Art began pointing and laughing now, wide eyed and crazed as he nodded vigorously as though to say 'please do!'
Before he could, you gripped his arm gently; your expression depicted a mocking sense of disappointment. "I've ruined your night, and wasted all of your precious time." You huffed, throwing your hands up in the air in defeat for him, indignant at yourself. "And like you said, I'm really not looking my best, am I? I apologize.", you smiled sweetly up at him, eyes squinted almost cutely.
The man paused at your admittance, evidently not used to any woman ever agreeing with him. He relaxed somewhat, nodding to himself as though to say yes, you are the problem, not him.
Arts dark eyes bored into your form, entranced, unsmiling, deadly.
"I'll make it up to you."
Your smile spread eerily wide, slow and deliberate and full of glee, frozen on your face. There was something ominous about you, mouth spread so far it looked as though you were doing a poor imitation of how a human should smile. It was too wide, too happy, unnatural. Slowly, you made your way to the kitchen.
The man appeared shocked and faltered, squinting at you as though to decipher what's going on. It felt like his eyes deceived him, searching desperately. Did he hear wrong? Did he miss something? Turning back towards the clown for some semblance of an answer, he seemed to have vanished. There was no trace of him ever being there, and there was no sound.
All was too silent, too calm, and it made his nerves stand on end, unsure, horrifically uncertain about everything he had just witnessed. He needed to leave.
The man tensed, back stepping at the sudden eeriness. It was so quiet, in fact, that part of his mind doubted that he had ever spoken to someone in the first place. Shaking his head, he turned to leave. There had to be a logical explanation for all of this. Without another thought, he turned and made his way to the front door.
If not that, then the knife embedded in his back surely did.
His keys suddenly dropped to the floor from his hand. The sound was loud, and would probably shock anyone out of a daydream.
Though, a second later, the horrific cry that surely tore his vocal chords was loud enough to make it evidently clear that this was all very real.
The life that had been temporarily drained from the house now sprung to life viciously, all at once.
Gripping a fistful of his hair, you dragged him roughly through your living room, kicking him so hard in the chest he convulsed, air struggling to enter his wheezing lungs. Blood covered his chin, eyes wide and unable to comprehend these sudden events; Questions swirled in his horrified orbs.
Lips curling in disgust, you jumped on top of him and began violently beating him. The man struggled hard, trying to buck you off of him and attack you back but to no avail. You were as immovable as a wall, face stoic and nonchalant as the man flailed back and forth, desperate to escape.
His eyes were wide, terrified, blood pouring down his face. In a flash, you held his fist tightly, catching it before it could make contact with you. You began to chuckle, mirth dancing in your irises, squeezing so hard you could feel the bone snapping.
It wasn't normal, this level of power, but it felt so beautifully natural to you, something dark and radiantly evil crying out in glory at your actions, delightfully satisfied.
He roared in pain, tears involuntarily streaming down his face, hand mangled and deranged looking as he cradled it to his chest. He shuddered violently, eyes wild in horror. "What the fuck are you?!"
"Me?", you thought aloud softly, bloody hand to your chin contemplatively as you stared up at Art, who was so suddenly by your side that it made the man flinch and choke on his breath in fright.
"I'm a..slut, right? That's the word you used?" You looked at the man for confirmation, who shook his head swiftly in regret, face contorting miserably as he realized his grave error. He began to sob.
You gazed up at Art, who was clenching his hands rhythmically again, laughter shaking his shoulders. There was more than satisfaction at watching this asshole get beaten; almost a hidden connection of evil sparking between you both. He was corrupting you, but you yourself made these choices. You, avidly, enjoyed this outcome.
"Is that right, Art? He said slut, didn't he?", you hummed in thought, scratching your head for an answer. Your crimson hands dyed your hair a terrifying red as you curled a lock thoughtfully between your fingers.
Art nodded slowly, unable to take his eyes off the way your blue orbs became corrupted, like sediment contaminating a clear pool. They shined as black as his now.
"It's funny," you began with a dreamy sigh, eyelashes fluttering back down at the miserable sight below you. The whites of your eyes appeared disturbingly bloodshot. "For being such a slut, I haven't managed to get a good look at you yet. We didn't get too far earlier, did we?"
The man below you was hyper ventilating now, shaking his head furiously, knowing and fearing where this was going. His mangled hand joined the other in what looked like to be a feeble prayer, chest rising and falling rapidly. "I-Im sorry! Youre not a slut, you're--youre stunning and I'm so, so fucking sorry--"
Your act dropped then, eyes dead and void. A sense of dread hung heavy in the air for this man; There was no way out, and no amount of pleading would change that. You lifted your knife carelessly in the air, twirling the weapon hauntingly. The look the man gave you would stay in your memory for a while, it was full of pure, unadulterated terror.
You brought the knife down, slicing in his groin. The man screamed so loud you thought his vocal chords had torn. Blood pooled around you, soaked you, bathed you in a pretty crimson to match your nails.
Art was a hysterical mess, hunched over and pointing and laughing, miming a condescending, fake sobbing at the pathetic man. He held a sinister mirth in his eyes, absolutely buckled.
Grotesquely, you dug your hands into the gaping wound you had made in the man's genitals, rummaging around with the sounds of squelching blood permeating the air. Finding what you were looking for, you held it up high between your finger and thumb, expression holding that all too familiar disappointment.
Your lips quirked, "Not such a big man now, are you?"
Art was rife with laughter and joyfulness, and before you knew it, your giggling turned into cackling, blood smeared all over yourself as you held your stomach, tears falling down your cheeks in sick, dark satisfaction.
You hadn't laughed this hard in years, hadn't felt this liberated and happy in a while. Everytime you calmed down, giggles becoming quiet, Art would hold up the castrated organ absurdly, wiggling it like an ugly worm with a look of surprise on his face, eyebrows high and mouth open, and you'd be on the floor cackling madly once again.
It must've been a grotesque sight, you on your knees upon the floor, blood sinking so deeply into your clothes you wondered if it would come out, wiping tears of laughter away only to smudge deep streaks of red across your cheeks. You looked like an animal, rabid and violent.
Art gazed down at your crazed form with a smirk of satisfaction, chaos swirling in his eyes. It was as though he had been waiting for that part of him to corrupt you, for your anger to explode, for your unhinged desires to manifest.
After some time, everything fell peacefully quiet. It was comfortable, and dare you say amicable. Your breathing was the only sound in the room, slowing down as you gazed down at the way your feet were absolutely soaked red.
Leaning back on your hands, you caught sight of the demonic clown with his arms folded, leaning against the wall. He seemed serene, no longer smiling but definitely not frowning either. His black eyes perused the coating of blood on the floor, making their way up to study you deliberately.
His stare was intense, and you couldn't stop your cheeks from lifting upwards into a smile. Pushing yourself to a stand, you grimaced at the mutilated body on the floor and shivered in disgust.
You nudged at the corpse with your foot, cringing. "Maybe mortal men just aren't for me, anymore. "Though," you began as an afterthought, "even if I had a boyfriend, you'd probably kill him anyway." You sighed, fully acknowledging this.
You weren't even aggravated by that fact anymore. It would've really angered you once, but what's the point? You and Art seemed bound together forever, by the looks of it. You couldn't imagine him sitting idly with another person in the house. But then again, neither would you.
Art deliberated, gazing upwards in brief thought, before shrugging too. Yeah, probably. Just to get under your skin, mostly. And maybe an inkling of something else. He finally nodded, eyes staring down at you from his nose, like an old librarian with their glasses on the end of their nose. Snobbish. He had a reputation to up hold, you know. His nonchalant expression read 'well, you're not wrong.'
You scoffed, though offered a small smile nonetheless. He was amusing. For a silent clown, he was awfully verbal with his theatrical ways.
But now you began to think solemnly; What you just did - the killing, the maiming, the castrating - was vile. It was unforgivable, sickening. Your human half knows this, and something is conflicted within you. It felt like two halves of yourself were at war.
Even still, you felt joy. And you know that's wrong, and it's absolutely maniacal. But what's even more astounding is right here, on a late Saturday evening, you and that stupid clown stood with an air of tranquillity and comfort, together. If this was two years ago, you'd be within inches of maiming each other.
Like a domesticated couple, Art got to work on disposing of the body, dragging it with ease to your back door, before disappearing. It left a streak of smudged red on your tiles. You got to work cleaning, rolling your sleeves up as you hunted for something to make your floor shine again. It took a while, but he was gone for some time anyway.
By the time everything was relatively tidy, it was past midnight. The stain on the floor had disappeared thankfully, and you felt refreshed after a hot bath, changing into comfortable pyjamas and fluffy socks.
You sat in your bed, blankets pulled comfortingly up to your stomach. Your bedroom was filled with dim lights, and they had their necessary effect of making you feel content.
You had chosen a random film to watch on tv. It didn't really matter which one because your thoughts were otherwise occupied. It played serenely in the background, but something was bothering you.
A part of you felt slightly deflated. You were still undeniably frustrated and borderline desperate to have this desire quelled within you, and now that you had a moment to yourself, it barrelled to the forefront of your mind.
It was a ridiculous feeling, but you couldn't help that you were so pent up. Maybe you were ovulating. That did tend to make your hormones go haywire.
Even still, you hadn't long killed a man. It would be wrong to..indulge after that, wouldn't it? You pursed your lips in thought, two sides of yourself fighting menacingly. You couldn't tell if your good was being corrupted, or if Arts evil that had tainted you had brought out repressed, dark feelings that most humans surely kept hidden.
You didn't feel guilty, which was peculiar. Your nature before meeting Art often held a lot of empathy. You could feel yourself shifting, but you could never pinpoint the change until it had already been demonstrated. From the way Art pierced his black eyes into you, you bet he could see the transformation easily.
Your thoughts were interrupted as the background noise of the TV suddenly became incredibly interesting to your brain. You paused, peering at the TV as the sounds of quiet gasps and sloppy kissing filled your room.
It wasn't even particularly erotic, but..
Even just the sounds had your pulse increasing ever so slightly. In your desperate state of mind, it was easy to imagine how that messy kissing felt, tangled up in somebody else, remembering the feel of bolts of arousal shooting down your body in tingles as it became more passionate, more eager.
You were in a trance, frozen as you watched and drank up every detail. Male hands gliding down a womanly figure, cupping her heavy breasts and listening to the shaky inhales and exhales she made, back arching into his hands needily.
You felt a hot warmth bloom in your abdomen, a pulse beating steadily between your thighs. How were you so affected by this? You weren't even just mildly turned on, you were in a state of full blown arousal, a stickiness oozing between your legs. You felt like some of that was from earlier, mostly from the anticipation of sex rather than the futile attempts that asshole made on you.
The image now depicted the man positioning the woman on her hands and knees, readying her. You gripped your blanket, wanting so badly to be touched like that again and actually enjoy it.
Your eyes were fixated on the screen, hyper analysing every detail you could take in. The world around you faded.
The actor on screen gripped the woman's hips roughly, situating himself behind her. He gave her no time to prepare before sinking in slowly, and you watched the way her lips spread open in a quiet moan, brows furrowed and chest rising and falling rapidly.
A wave of heat flashed through you, making you warm enough that you had to kick the blanket off your person. What film was this? It was incredibly pornographic, not that you were complaining..
Your bottoms were next to go, tossed haphazardly to the floor; you were sweltering. Granted, the room was far too warm anyway, but what you were witnessing on screen had you in a completely different state of over heating.
All you had on now was a pair of black, silky underwear and an oversized top. You felt dishevelled, and sighed as the scene ended far too quickly for your liking and the TV adverts started to play.
You watched on in boredom as Christmas adverts began popping up colourfully with the sound of bells ringing. You felt mildly irritated, your arousal fizzling considerably, but still prominent. You were left with the sticky reminder between your thighs, head lolling back against your bedframe.
Your head rolled to the left, eyes staring down your nose at the sight of your bedside drawer. Specifically, the one that held a lot of intimate objects. You felt a little cautious using the vibrator because knowing Art, he'd curiously come up to see what the noise was; he seemed to have acute hearing.
But if you went under the blankets, vibrator hidden between your thighs, there's no way he'd hear that. Your door was firmly shut and the buzzing was incredibly muffled under your duvet. You'd be quiet and keep it on the first setting.
You were astounded once again at just how wound up and sensitive you are, vibrator delicately touching your clit as your phone displayed a pornographic video.
The cock on the screen was a good size, and as you watched it's girth spread the woman's puffy labia, a sudden desperation gnawed through you. You pressed the vibrator onto your clit more directly, the bottom of your t shirt caught between your lips as your tits jutted out prettily on display, nipples pert.
You bit down on the fabric to quell your whines of delight, breathing sharp and fast through your nose as the vibrating against your clit became over whelming, body alight with a white hot fire that spanned from your abdomen down to your toes.
Your sodden hole clenched needily, you wanted to be filled but you needed a man to do that. You wanted to receive a worthy dick that would split you in half just like the woman on your small screen.
The scene changed abruptly, and what was shown next had your hips bucking desperately into the vibrator, teeth now clenching the fabric hard as your breathing became heavy through your nose, pleasure intensifying.
The man had the woman on her knees, his member shoved ruthlessly into her mouth as he gripped a fistful of her hair and used her like a toy. Saliva decorated her mouth, and you watched with rapt attention as the mans heavy balls slapped her chin; it all seemed degrading, but..
A moan escaped you, muffled, and your back arched as you moved a hand between your thighs and touched the outside of your entrance; you were absurdly wet, sinking straight through your underwear and smearing your inner thighs.
You so desperately wanted to grab the dildo from your draw and push it deep within yourself, hard, but you refrained. Your climax was approaching anyway, and you could hardly stop yourself from whining at the thought of being the woman on the screen, sucking a hard dick as you made a messy pool of wetness below you, begging to be split apart.
From there, it was a hasty descent into blinding pleasure, your wariness dimming as low moans escaped your lips. Your eyes were shut now, permanent soft frown creasing your eyebrows as you were so close to your peak, cresting at the very precipice--
A loud bang resounded in your room, loud enough to drag you out of your delirious stupor. Your eyes shot open in annoyance, wondering if you had kicked your remote control off of the bed, but then your blood turned to ice in your veins.
In fact, you sat so absurdly shocked that all movements ceased, eyes wide and unblinking at the now ajar door of your bedroom which you definitely, without doubt, unequivocally, had shut earlier.
You blinked rapidly, vibrator dropping from your hand. It buzzed obscenely on the bed with a sheen of lubrication covering the tip, but you hardly registered it.
The door was less than halfway ajar, your dark hallway the only thing you could see, and..
A hand flew to your mouth in utter mortification, cheeks flaming crimson. You felt dizzy with a multitude of emotions.
A messy, hand written note was celotaped to your door. In jagged, capital letters spelled 'Art was here'. With a crude, childish winky face drawn beside it.
Your breathing increased suddenly, limbs shaking with not only the almost-orgasm you were about to receive, but also the unusual fluttering of your stomach in nervous humiliation and something else.
You felt severely perplexed, biting your nails as you tried to reminisce, tried to pinpoint when and how he had opened the door without you knowing and celotaped that preposterous note to your door. How was that even possible?
Clearly, Art wanted to grab your attention just as you were about to orgasm, most likely banging your wall from the hallway, hard. It sounded like a picture frame had fallen.
That made sense. At the very least, one thing did. But what about the rest, how was he able to furtively open your door, noiselessly, undoubtedly watching you?
You bolted up straighter, eyes darting around anxiously. Oh my God, he hadn't just intuitively known you were touching yourself, he must've heard something. Were you loud? You couldn't remember, you were so dazed.
Your mind created pictures of your thoughts, envisioning him opening your door just a crack and--
Your hands covered your face. You were so embarrassed. Had he been watching you? He surely had. And alongside this humiliation, why did you feel a flutter of nervous excitement roll through you? Were you so depraved?
Your hands kneaded your blanket, gripping handfuls and releasing rhythmically. Holy God, Art had made you feel many things over the years.
Hatred, annoyance, recent joy and laughter, fear, anxiety, you could go on and on, but this?
This was something new. And yeah, maybe he only did it to get under your skin. What better way to mortify a woman than catching her red handed, touching herself, and calling her out on it?
But..
Your thoughts took it a step further.
Was there..any other reason?
You bit your lip in contemplation, arms wrapped around yourself comfortingly. At some point over the past two years, brief thoughts of the demonic clown had entered your mind, fleeting sexual thoughts that left as quickly as they came.
Because, well, you were evidently desperate at this point. And he had a certain charm about him, once you got passed the ire you once held for him. And he was a man, or in a man's body, anyway.
Your mind swirled with questions, dirty thoughts, and unending embarrassment each time you realised he probably saw everything that you did.
And he probably saw the way your teeth gnawed into your shirt to silence yourself, heavy breasts poking out beneath, fully exposed, expression one of unbridled, desperate pleasure.
Your heart beat felt like it was in your ears, anxiety high. The door remained open for a reason. He wanted you to come out, and then wanted to absolutely humiliate you.
You got along a lot better now, as evidenced earlier, but that didn't mean that he'd stop messing with you.
Begrudgingly, you knew that even with your enhanced abilities and strength, you were no match for him. If he wanted to truly be hidden, he would. If he wanted to truly be swift and unseen in his movements, he would be.
You often found your bizarre abilities only worked when you were angry, or felt some sort of negative emotion.
Otherwise, you were just a regular human, having no control over that shard of terror that lingered within you from your rebirth.
Steeling your nerves, you took slow steps towards the door. You were still clad in your long t shirt and fluffy socks, and schooled your expression into one of stern stoicism.
You couldn't avoid that asshole forever.
Gripping the door handle, you stepped fully into the darkness of the hallway, enveloped. Standing still for a few moments, you realised he obviously wasn't outside your door, waiting to terrify you.
Swallowing nervously, you made your way downstairs. The stairs groaned and creaked like they always did, but it sounded absolutely deafening to you as it signalled your descent.
Out of everything that he had ever done to you - from killing you, to breaking your bones, stabbing you and everything else - this made you feel the most vulnerable.
Your living room was pitch black, not a single light illuminating the area. You held your breath, listening as intently as you could.
Silence.
Your throat felt too dry to call out to him. You knew your voice would shake, your words would stammer. It would make the situation even more shameful, so you remained quiet.
Your eyes surveyed the living room in darkness, honing in on any unnatural shadow that seemed a little too eerie; he wasn't here. That frightened you more than if he had taken this moment to jump out at you.
Uneasy frustration welled up within you. Not only had your pleasure been ripped away from you, your legs uncomfortably sticky, but now you felt incredibly exposed.
Inhaling deeply, you glared holes into your kitchen door. Two things could happen here: Either he was in there waiting to scare the hell out of you, or he wasn't in there at all, making you more on edge.
You pushed the door open, trailing inside with faux confidence, switching the lights on.
Nobody was here.
If anything, the kitchen was still surprisingly how you left it earlier - clean. Eyebrows drawing together into a scowl, you grabbed a glass of water, chair screeching as you took a seat.
Art must've pulled that trick on you and then promptly left, entering the night to no doubt destroy another victims life.
Brushing your dishevelled hair out of your face, you sat back against the chair defeatedly. Well, your emotions aren't going to change what's already happened, and you'd have to face that asshole at some point.
Evidently, tonight was not the night.
Glancing at the clock, you couldn't believe that it was already 3am. Your eyes felt heavy, your limbs felt weary and you were burnt out.
Peering around the kitchen, you realised that you must've left your phone upstairs.
That's fine, you needed to sleep anyway. Pushing yourself to a stand, you trudged sleepily up the shadowed stairs, rubbing at your burning eyes with the back of your hand.
You felt content at the moment to sleep off the crazy events of the day and worry about them tomorrow. Your door was open, just as you had left it, and the comforting glow of your warm lights that emitted from inside welcomed you with open arms.
Stepping into the safety of your room felt relieving, and as you turned back to close the bedroom door firmly, you came face to terrifying face with a chest.
You froze, mind pausing in fright at the sudden, tall body that blocked your doorway. You blinked rapidly, face displaying astonishment, and snapped your head up at the perpetrator, wide eyed.
What stared back down at you made caution well up inside you. Art stood tall, appearing out of thin air clad in his absurd Santa costume. It suited him, and the bulky material only served to make his structure appear even bigger, more menacing.
Your eyes fluttered up at him with uncertainty, darting rapidly between his face and his chest as you struggled to maintain his intense eye contact.
The clowns face was all sharp contours, edged smile of amusement plastered to his face as he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed languidly across his chest, widening his overall structure considerably. Has he always been this big?
He watched you with a wide, salacious grin, eyes alight and unwavering, and from the glint in his eye you knew what was about to come.
You swallowed, feeling your mask of neutrality betraying you as your body heated up, displaying a pink hue to your complexion. You didn't know what to say, how to act. Art could see this, the way you'd open your mouth only to close it, eyes darting around nervously.
You were usually so full of complaints, insults and incredibly argumentative when he had 'crossed the line', as you so often called it. As he so often did. Since your rebirth, you were all fire and wrath, near enough ripping his head off for something as simple as leaving a bloody mess on your floors or your door handles, if he didn't clean it anyway.
Of course, Art had begrudgingly agreed with you long ago to cease the truly harsh fighting, but that didn't mean that you didn't bicker, in a sense. He liked your ire, the way your teeth would grind together in anger, the way you'd go into an absolute fit if he threatened to childishly mess with your makeup and clothes, or anything you held valuable, really.
It was funny, and he knew you secretly got a kick out of it. Once the cat and dog game was over, you'd snap back to being a sweet, little human. It was interesting, and so amusing.
But this? Art peered down at you deliberately, perusing your flushed exterior with a smug, self satisfied grin.
He had been looking for new ways to get you to crack. So far, everything annoying he did was met with your aggressive screeches, and that was fine. But he needed something juicy, needed something that would really bother you, rile you up.
For a while, he struggled to find anything. He couldn't go too far with his schemes - you were both bound together, after all, so that would be met with futility.
He truly enjoyed bothering you, that was true, but his methods got boring. What could he possibly do that would make you think twice, or go silent? What would really shock you, make you revert back into your humanity, so full of emotion?
As a point of reiteration, he could have done many crude, evil and horrific things, but he couldn't because of your peculiar connection. So, he had to settle for something that was..bearable to you, but also astounding.
He came across this opportunity by pure chance. He knew what you got up to behind closed doors, you were a needy thing, but he didn't really think twice about it. He kept the knowledge of it quiet, however, just in case he ever needed to utilise it for fun.
It didn't interest him, initially. He enjoyed inflicting pain, mentally and physically, so the fact that you would so often touch yourself to induce pleasure wasn't particularly within his territory of fixations. He had other things that kept him occupied.
However, hearing your laboured breathing and quiet little moans had piqued his interest on this particular day. He had no reason for that, other than the simple fact that he wanted to spy on you. It was an urge that came by on a whim; it meant nothing, it is nothing, but Art often acted spontaneously on how he felt in the moment.
Mortal flesh did so often have its urges.
And a light bulb certainly lit up within his mind - this was the perfect way to humiliate you.
He had watched the way you gnawed at your t-shirt to keep quiet, pretty pert tits on display as you brought yourself closer and closer to completion. Art had grinned wickedly at the scene, hands fisting and shaking in excitement at the thought of never letting you live this down.
But, upon watching further, witnessing the way your head lolled back pleasurably, back arching and legs splayed wide in pure need, he couldn't deny the barely restrained desire to storm in and tease you until you were wracked with sobs.
Art had frowned in puzzlement at that feeling - it was incredibly rare for him - but his smile soon returned, shrugging as he accepted his feelings. If anything, this would only serve to embarrass you even more, he thought.
And now, dark eyes trained on your rapidly warming face, Art was enraptured by the amount of emotion that seemed to demonstrate itself. Your expressions changed quickly, and the details were minuscule, but he could see you entering a vicious cycle of bewilderment, embarrassment, anger and self consciousness.
It was as though your brain didn't know whether to lash out or guard itself. It was entertaining.
The silence hung heavily. Arts position remained the same, leaned casually against the doorframe, and yours remained as rigid and tense as ever. Your mind felt muddled. With a slow breath, your expression fell flat. Even still, you couldn't look him in the eye, and instead glared heavily at his chest.
"Stop it.", you began with a quiet, indignant scowl, chastising him. Your eyebrows drew together, so incredibly uncertain. His eyes bored holes into you and it was making you squirm. You were too stubborn to turn away.
Even still, you'd admit defeat temporarily. You didn't have the energy to battle him right now. With a huff, you turned on your heel and made your way to the bed, exasperatedly throwing your arms up into the air.
"Fine, stay there and stare all night for all I care; I'm tired." But you did care, didn't you? It gnawed at you.
Barely making it to the bed, you stopped abruptly at the sound of fingers snapping at you once, twice, seeking your attention. With a roll of your eyes, you slowly turned to look at him, expression thunderous. "Art, I'm not in the mood for this, and-- is that my phone?"
You barely breathed the question in masked panic, eyes wide once more as your phone dangled teasingly from his fingertips, wide grin stretching impossibly further.
The clown shrugged softly as though to say 'maybe', shoulders beginning to move rapidly, rising and falling in laughter as he held a hand to his mouth in faux astonishment at whatever was showing on your phone.
He feigned a look of bashfulness, fanning his face for a moment, eyes fluttering, before pointing and laughing at you some more. Your face twitched in it's attempt to remain calm and neutral, but Art could see right through you.
Covering his eyes obscenely at whatever was on the screen, but still very clearly peeking through the gaps in his fingers, Art swiftly turned the phone around so you could have a look.
That's when your mouth went dry and heat began to pinken your face even more. On the screen displayed the porn you were looking at earlier. You must've forgotten to close the tab, leaving the video running.
The volume had been turned up far too loud, the sounds of slurping and moaning vibrating through your skull deafeningly. A woman on screen had her hair gripped hard in a fistful, the man above her sliding his thick length between her lips. The sounds were filthy, and so so loud. You gripped the sides of your face loosely in devastation.
This time, you stormed up to him furiously, lunging and making a grab for your phone. "Stop it!", you repeated, shrieking this time.
You missed the phone entirely as he lifted it higher. You seethed, teeth clenched in frustration as the sounds continued, except now they had increased exponentially. From the way the screen turned down at you, you could see the man lifting the woman's thighs over his shoulders before he--
You shook your head furiously, shame blooming deep within your chest as you roughly slapped a hand against his chest for leverage, trodding onto his boots on your tiptoes to try and make another grab for your phone.
The attempt was futile, art was so tall and his arms were so long that you could never reach it. Your body was pressed up against his own, stretching high to make even minor progress in retrieving your phone. You could feel your anger boiling, scowling as you reared an arm back and aimed a punch for his sternum.
Everything happened incredibly fast after that. Before you could make contact, your forearm was gripped hard, your body was spun and your arm was wrenched behind your back.
You yelped, back pressed firmly to his front. You jerked side to side rapidly, releasing a cry of frustration in your attempt to get out of his iron grip, but to no avail.
"Let me go right now!" You attempted to sound demanding and aggressive, but it came out whiny, your voice shaking. You could feel the clowns body vibrating with laughter behind you, hand so tight around your arm you couldn't move at all.
On any other day, when you and Art would undoubtedly get into situations like this due to his pestering, you had a far better chance of escaping because you were often angry.
But today, you felt..more vulnerable than anything. You felt so puny, so small and human and fragile. It was a dirty trick on his part, and it prevented your usual unnatural strength from bursting forth.
Well, even with that strength, you don't think you could truly win against Art anyway.
Tossing back and forth regardless, you huffed and cursed at him repeatedly, knees slightly bent from the way he held you tightly and put pressure on you.
"You're a fucking asshole!", you seethed, practically feeling the mirth roll off of him in waves at your predicament.
A strong hand wrapped it's way around your delicate jaw, holding firmly but not painfully. Your head was pushed upwards almost playfully, fingertips tickling the underside of your face.
You met your own scowling expression in the body length mirror that decorated your wardrobe doors. It was as long as the doors and just as wide, giving you a clear view of Arts smirking face hovering above you.
You took in your dishevelled complexion, hair a wild mess, face lightly perspiring and your long pyjama t shirt barely reaching just above your knee.
You were hunched slightly due to being immobilised, and the hand that cradled your jaw looked absolutely massive. It was big enough to crush your skull if he wanted to, big enough to easily smother your mouth and nose without actively trying to.
Your scowl had lessened considerably at this point, that vulnerable expression returning once more. From this view, you hadn't realised just how tall he was compared to you. He was lithe, but wearing that Santa costume made him fill out a little, appear wider.
On a normal day his size would swallow your stature whole, casting a shadow over you, but in that costume?
He looked huge.
The stark realisation of this, paired with the absurdly intimate way he had your back flush to his chest and his calloused hand wrapped around your jaw with a salacious smirk, forcing you to stare at him in the mirror - you couldn't help but flush.
You found that you couldn't look away, your head attempting to move only to have his grip tighten, his grin sharpening. He loomed above you like an evil blight, eyes dark and calculating.
The sounds of the video continued in the background, a particularly loud cry having drawn you out of your thoughts, and it caused you to flutter your eyes to the floor and away from his charcoal irises.
You couldn't deny the heat that began to flourish within you.
It only increased tenfold at the feeling of a firm hand slowly gliding it's way from your jaw, descending directly to your waist, then further to your hip, squeezing.
Your eyes widened, head snapping back up at the mirror in bewilderment. You were met with the sight of his rough hand caressing you, smiling all the while.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You spat rapidly in disbelief, words shaken and sounding far weaker than you would've liked.
He had never done this to you before. Art liked to cause pain, not..
Not this. Not any semblance of pleasure, of intimacy. Your lips opened in a quiet gasp, body tingling as the heat of his hand drew circles along your hipbone before delving lower.
You jerked in his grasp, flushing heavily at the sight of his hand gliding lower and lower until his fingers played with the hem of your t shirt.
"D-dont you dare!", you squeezed your thighs together, body squirming against him with struggle. He had long since released your numb arm, and instead opted for wrapping a long arm around your waist, your head resting against his chest as his daring hand gripped the fabric of your t shirt and teasingly went to lift it, only to stop, awaiting your reaction.
His shoulders began to move with glee, chest vibrating. Your reactions were priceless as you squirmed and attempted to back away from his hand, only to back further into his body.
This infuriated you, your flushed complexion displaying panic and bashfulness.
Those mischievous fingers danced along your thigh, lifting the fabric once again, higher this time, before dropping it. His expression held one of mock surprise, lips downturned neutrally and eyes wide, eyebrows lifted.
"Don't-- don't do that! I mean it!", you whined miserably, heat encompassing your body. It caused him to pause, eyes snapping from your almost exposed thighs to your pleading gaze.
That sharp, predatory grin returned. The heat of his hand squeezed your thigh and slipped under the fabric, tickling the edge of your underwear, fingers playing with the intricate, laced detail.
Your breath shuddered, eyes wide, and you unconsciously moved a hand to grip at his wrist. Whether to push him away or pull him in, you didn't know anymore; you felt overwhelmed, and the way your chest rose and fell rapidly portrayed that.
Art snickered, unwrapping himself from your body and taking a step back, his boots thumping. With a playful roll of his eyes, he held his hands up in mock surrender, as though to reassure you that it was all a harmless joke, and attempted to smile softly, innocently. It made him appear all the more sinister.
You spun around on your heel, taking a step back yourself as you scrutinised his display of surrender. It was uncharacteristic. Despite that, Art shook his hands exasperatedly in the air, sighing as though to say 'it was a joke, don't you believe me?'
You shook your head slowly, lost for words. You couldn't speak, throat dry and mind racing. You wanted to run away.
Art rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, before rolling them back to you dramatically, grin plastered on his face. At your retreat, he experimentally took a step forward, rather comical if not for the situation, and chuckled at your jittery self.
You furrowed your brows, not falling victim to this act anymore. You were going to kick his ass tomorrow, but for now you needed to retreat into the safety of your blanket, tail between your legs. "Get out.", you pointed towards the door sternly.
Arts eyes followed your finger to the door, before blinking over to you once more. His gaze swept over your form, head tilting in thought. He began to smirk.
Before you could react, Art leapt forward three steps, making you yelp and scramble backwards, narrowly missing falling over the edge of your bed as you backed your way towards the wall.
The clown snickered again, standing up tall and no longer doing that comical hunched appearance when he lunged at you. Now, he stood to his full height, back straight and stature big, before his boots thudded along your floor as he slowly advanced in a predatory fashion.
"I swear to God if you come near me--", you pressed yourself against the wall, watching his looming figure get taller and taller.
Your neck craned upwards, stare defiant as he hovered above. Heavy hands suddenly planted themselves violently either side of your head, crowding you in.
You flinched, blinking rapidly at the way he leaned down to become eye level with you. Your cheeks were pink again, eyes darting across his face for an answer to his weird behavior. What the hell was going on?
He was alluring, you thought, and it made thoughts race in your mind. Was he going to suddenly hurt you? Was he truly just playing? Was he actively flirting with you in his sick type of way? You had never fell this silent in front of him before. You needed to gain equal ground against this asshole.
"That's enough. What, are you interested in me now?", you scoffed, daring to lean forward into his space, face so close to his you could feel his silent breath; it was a front, you felt jittery even now, but you wouldn't allow him to mess with you any longer.
Art grinned, not at all reacting to your faux bout of confidence. He shrugged half-heartedly, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. It left you dumbstruck. What he did next made heat spread so unbelievably throughout your body.
You were so flustered your head felt heavy, and it only increased tenfold as your wrist was gripped in his big hand, fingers limp and relaxed, before he brought the digits you had touched yourself with to his lips and slid them in slow.
You shuddered, inhaling sharply at this display of intimacy. His grip was slack on your wrist, seeming to omit to the fact that you could escape if you really wanted to.
But you didn't want to. The thought didn't even cross your mind, and his eyes narrowed in a knowing sense of smugness at that.
Arousal swelled in your lower belly, pooling between your thighs as Arts tongue danced between the seam of your fingers, the ticklish feeling sending tingles through your nerves.
Art peered down at you, mouth full of your fingers, his grin turning nasty as he bit them lightly. Despite the clear threat that he could rip them out of the socket, your eyes remained lidded, pupils blown wide and hand lax as you let him caress you with his tongue and teeth. Crowded so close together against the wall, he could hear your heart beat thumping.
Dropping your wrist from his grip, Art reached down, bending at the knees to hook two hands below your thighs. You cried out as you were lifted high, legs resting in his grip.
He did this with ease, as though you were weightless. Sitting down on the bed, he adjusted you so you could sit on his lap, facing away from him. You could see yourselves in the mirror.
Art hooked his legs between your knees and spread them open. You wiggled against his hold, embarrassed at your exposure. Your black, lacy underwear was displayed, t shirt bunching up at your hips. You couldn't bring yourself to snap at him to stop fucking with you because..
Well, you were eager, far more eager than you thought. Had you always harboured this feeling towards the clown?
You were crimson faced, lips quivering as you tried to make your expression as neutral as possible; He had you on his lap like he was actually Santa, and you were the one telling him what you wanted for Christmas.
The thought had you lowering your head in bashfulness. No innocent Santa would have you spread and bared like this one.
The expression Art made in the mirror was one of mock surprise, eyebrows high and mouth forming like a circle. Before you could even ponder about it, a large hand was brought down to your inner thigh, fingers inching their way further in, caressing the sensitive area before cupping your clothed sex.
You held your breath, staring stubbornly back at him in the mirror. His hand was warm, and you couldn't help but shudder at the feel of his hand trailing upwards slowly, dancing over your clitoris briefly, then your mound, and up to the waistband of your underwear.
His fingers dipped below the waistband, gauging your reaction, but you refused to give one. Cocking an eyebrow in curiosity, you felt his hand descend, lower and lower, fingers gliding over your silken lips before delicately resting over your hole.
You flushed darkly, gritting your teeth as Art made an even more astounded expression, shaking his head slowly as though to admonish you for the mess between your legs. His fingertips rubbed circles in the lubrication oozing out of you, dipping in slightly but never far enough.
A small sound escaped your throat, barely audible, but loud enough for him. A slow, smug smirk stretched his face wide, and you could only huff defiantly. "I-- That's not because of you! I was like this before you rudely interrupted, remember?" You pouted.
Art rolled his eyes, nodding his head in quick succession with a look of mock belief at your words. He knew you were lying and so did you. Then, with a sly grin, two fingers glided upwards towards your slippery clit.
You gasped that time, quiet but still embarrassingly deafening to yourself, gripping the fabric of his forearm tightly.
A tingling sensation flooded your system, your body shifting and legs widening. He continued to massage the area, direct and blissful. You bit your lip, unwilling to let him see how much you enjoyed this.
Art chuckled, shaking his head at you with a nasty grin, eyebrows low and cynical. His dark eyes swirled chaotically, full of challenge and amusement and something else.
Hand descending further into your soaked underwear, two fingers dipped into your slit, thoroughly lubricating his calloused fingers.
Art paused, winking at you in the mirror. You attempted to glare back at him in the reflection, but you lacked the effort, and instead your eyebrows were drawn together softly, lips parting as two fingers slid into you to the knuckles, delving deep and curling sinfully against your greedy walls.
"Oh!", you moaned, hips lifting instinctively. Art began to thrust his fingers into you deep and hard, listening to the lewd squelching and how it seemed to fluster you terribly.
The feeling was intense; you hadn't been properly touched in so long, so to feel his thick, rough fingers curling rhythmically within your hot core, it made your nerve endings sing and your hips buck.
You gripped his arm hard, gasping, body fully resting against his own, head lolled back against his shoulder. Arts shoulders shook with laughter, terribly amused by the sight of you falling apart, but he wanted more from you. He wanted to break you, he wanted to make an unintelligible mess of you.
You were so prideful, you'd never live this down.
A fist gripped your hair roughly, tangling the locks before his fingers began to pummel into you expeditiously. It was too much, too fast, and you couldn't help but kick your legs uselessly, crying out.
"Ah, ahh-- Stop it, too much--", you whined, panting as the sounds of your wetness became loud, thighs drenched. You could see in the mirror the way his hand moved ferociously, molding the fabric of your underwear.
Your pleas made him speed up, thrusting so hard and so fast you wailed, thrashing upon his lap and dampening the fabric of his costume.
This was what you wanted, you thought heatedly. You wanted someone to render you immobile, shatter your mind. The view of his sinister smirk boring holes into you was alluring, head forced backwards with the grip in your hair. It made heat prickle along your spine.
Your hips began to move with his fingers, desperately seeking more, any semblance of pride vanishing as you chased your high. Your constant grinding made you feel the thick, long length pressing up against your ass, and you couldn't help but moan wantonly, pushing yourself into it with need.
His hand was drenched in your fluids, and it made him snicker. If this was you now, imagine you later when he forced you to take his cock.
Suddenly, your underwear was torn off of you, exposing the image of his large hand going in and out, curling, and thrusting deeply. The visual was arousing, your eyes half mast and dilated.
His palm lifted suddenly and jerked back down with a quick, firm slap. You jolted, wincing at the sting it caused, but before you had a chance to return back to contentedness, it struck again.
Those sinful digits eased their way out of you, smoothing up the length of your puffy labia, cupping it soothingly. You sighed, panting lightly, body relaxed and pliant.
His hand was hot and it made you feel content.
This time, it was sharper, and you gasped, scrambling to sit up but being forced to remain where you were as an iron grip wrapped it's way around your midsection.
Again, that firm hand slapped your sensitive folds, and you whined miserably at the pain and pleasure it caused.
Your lips were beginning to darken red from his assault, and yet you were still undeniably wet from his ministrations.
Your legs began quivering from the overstimulation, and you drew them together, trapping his hand. He seemed to let you, tilting his head with a quirk of his lips.
"S-stop tormenting me. Can't take it, not today. Please, just..", you paused, gnawing at your lip; you didn't want to admit to him what you really needed.
Art blinked rapidly, almost innocently down at you. He held a cupped hand to his ear, his other hand waving for you to continue, as though to usher you to speak the words he knows you're going to struggle to admit.
You pouted petulantly, eyes sparkling with unshed tears from frustration and the light stinging of your folds. Your peak had been building, only to be abruptly halted.
"No," you groaned weakly, "don't make me say it, you asshole." Your words lacked any real ire, and instead sounded exhausted. You were so pent up, so desperate at this point. As soon as the offence left your lips, two fingers began circling around your clit, refusing to touch directly. Art all but smiled at you patiently, face splitting with glee.
You sighed softly at the soothing pleasure, head lolling back against his shoulder. It felt so good, and you tried to buck your hips to make his fingers slip over your clit, but to no avail.
This caused you to release a frustrated whimper, feebly bucking your hips again, but this time Art stopped his stroking altogether, fingers hovering above the area you needed them most.
"No, I-I'm sorry!", you rushed out insincerely, desperate for his touch. You could feel tears dancing along your lash line, threatening to spill pathetically.
"Don't stop. I.. I need this so badly. Please.", you relented, biting your lip nervously, eyes fluttering to the floor in shame. You felt that familiar vibration; he was laughing at you.
Even still, the clown did deliberate. On one hand, he could continue tormenting you. That would be fun, and it was the initial plan, but even he couldn't deny his mortal desires. He had a strong threshold for such matters; he wasn't often interested enough.
If anything, he never paid enough attention to whether it was a man or a woman that he was maiming. That only goes to prove how disinterested he was in the whole affair of carnality.
This situation was unique, however. He was bound to a human he had once killed, who had just as miraculously as him managed to rise from the dead, and was stuck with you for ever. And, you are a woman. He couldn't damage you terribly, and he couldn't kill you. What better way to make you submit to him than by fucking your prideful, spiteful, hot-headed little self into the bed?
You were so easy to aggravate, spitting venomous insults and screeching in anger at him. That was all well and good, but he wanted to see the look on your face when he pummelled you dumb.
If death was out of the question, then immobilising you with his own body would have to do.
Gripping your waist tightly, Art maneuvered your body with ease, spinning you in his lap until both your thighs sat either side of him. A hand held your lower back firmly against his body, standing up halfway to tug down the bottoms of his Santa costume. They fell to his knees, and he promptly sat back down, grinning.
You hovered over his thick length, flushing red in anticipation. Hands finding leverage upon his shoulders, you let your wet lips rest against the tip, shivering as you did.
He felt big. You hadn't really managed to look at it, but from the feeling you knew he was going to split you open.
He seemed to be barely touching you, grinning cheekily as he awaited your next move. His cooperation made you uneasy, you wondered what he had planned.
The thought disappeared swiftly as you bared your hips down onto him, letting the tip nudge past your swollen lips, sinking in an inch or two.
You inhaled sharply, feeling the beginning of his girth and pausing in your descent. "I-I haven't done this in a while and you feel--mmm-," you bit your lip, sinking down a further inch, your insides pulsating and stinging.
You squeezed him tightly, walls rippling and attempting to mold to his shape. You gasped again, lips parting in surprise as you lowered slowly, delicately, his size stretching you.
You gripped his shoulders, fabric bunching up in your hands. Your thighs were shaking from the effort it took to descend patiently. Even with how wet you were, his hot length dragged against your insides, another inch being enveloped in your tight heat.
"Nng, its--so big", you breathed shakily, eyes glistening again. Art observed your pained expression in awe, smirking and winking at your compliment.
Two hands held your hips tightly, fingers digging in to the delicate flesh. You sighed delightedly at the contact, not at all preparing yourself for the sinister spark in the clowns eyes, before he slammed your hips down into his forcefully, tearing through you and settling within you to the hilt.
You cried out woefully, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as a pained sob was wrought from you. He could feel you shaking against him, panting against his ear, and couldn't help but chuckle nastily at your pain.
"W-wait, I need to adjust--", you began softly, voice quivering, but was given no time as Art lifted you up to the tip then dropped you back down. Your soft ass slapped against his lap, a horrible pain mixing with pleasure inside of you.
"It hurts! You're too big--!", you whined pitifully, tears dripping from your eyelashes. You gripped around his neck hard, body contorting in pain, shallow breaths hitting his ear.
Art knew this. You were so tight he had to grit his teeth, but he revelled in the concoction of pleasure and pain that wracked your body. You were too weak to fight him, trying to lift yourself off of him only to collapse back down, crying out as he filled you again. He could feel your tears soaking into his costume, and it made his cock fill with blood.
You were so full, the stinging sensation unbearable, and as he lifted you again, dragging your sodden hole off of him, he thrust up into you, letting your hips drop as he met you halfway and slid in.
A surprised moan was torn from your lips, a boiling heat enveloping your body as pleasure tingled and spread throughout your nerves. Art enjoyed your pitiful, pained cries, but he knew that the pain began to melt away as your breathing went from shallow, pained pants to breathy exhales.
The stinging became a dull sensation in the background, your insides igniting blissfully as those strong hands lifted you up once more, sliding all the way out before filling you up rhythmically.
"Mmm, Oh-", you moaned breathily, lips permanently parted. You no longer contorted your body awkwardly and instead began to melt against him, curling about his form needily.
Your hips began to take control, moving up and down his rock hard length, eyes closed against his shoulder as he emptied you and filled you over and over, thrusting up to meet your downward motions hard, filling you deep.
"Yes--Oh--", you couldn't stop the noises tumbling out. He wasn't even doing much, merely meeting your thrusts, but he was so big and long and thick and mouthwatering-
"Need more", you whined weakly, nuzzling your face against his neck, the fur of his Santa costume tickling your nose. "Please.", you added softly, thighs shaking so badly you didn't have the energy to lift yourself up fully.
Instead, you lifted your hips half heartedly, attempting to at least try, feeling that over whelming pleasure every time he thrusted upwards into you.
Each downward pull made you needy, and each thrust had you seeing stars. You could feel the grin on his face beside your cheek, body moving with silent chuckles. You were so responsive, feeling those big hands trail from your hips and down to your soft globes, pulling the cheeks apart.
You could feel your hole opening, feel his rigid length sinking in even deeper. You realised that he could probably see himself driving into you from the mirror reflection, your sopping core on full display as it sucked him in greedily.
You peered over your shoulder curiously, lidded eyes honing in on the mirror. The erotic visual had you writhing in his grasp, gnawing at your lip as he stared right back at you, lifting a hand to wiggle his fingers at you.
It was weirdly humiliating, but before you could turn away to nuzzle back into his neck and hide, his hand was brought down sharply in a loud slap upon one of your round cheeks.
You gasped, lips parting as your gaze remained frozen on his slowly retreating hand, waiting with bated breath, before it bared down upon your jiggling flesh again, and again, and again.
Your body jerked each time, a gasp escaping upon each impact, but your eyes couldn't leave the sight behind you, infinitely aroused at how displayed you were, at how massive he looked below you.
Art soothed the red handprints on your cheek with a gentle rub, looking at you in the mirror with mock concern, lips pouting out at you as though you were the cutest little thing.
You couldn't handle the embarrassment any longer, and turned back around to wrap your arms around his neck, thighs giving out below you. Two hands returned to your ass again, before gliding up into you faster this time, one thrust after another, drawing longer moans out of you.
The increase in pace made you writhe upon his lap, mewling in delight. You let yourself be manhandled, swiftly reaching down to grip two hands at the bottom of your t shirt and rip it over your head.
Your breasts bounced free, nipples teased against his body with each thrust, igniting a white hot sensation directly to your clitoris. You moaned a lot deeper this time, mouth below his ear, gasping and mumbling pleas.
Art reached a fist into your locks and wrenched your head back, hearing you wince and watching the sultry way you bit your lip at his rough actions.
You finally made eye contact with him, face to face, your complexion a dark pink. You put up no fight against his hold, even as he wrapped his fist tighter and pulled your head back hard. Your neck was bared, and you watched those charcoal eyes drop smoulderingly to your jiggling breasts.
His teeth attached themselves to your neck, biting and caressing the column of your throat, before finding an appropriate area and sinking his teeth in hard.
You cried out noisily, the sound pleasurable but stunted by pain, sounding more like a yelp. The harder he bit, the faster he fucked you, and you were soon delirious on the pain and pleasure, feeling his teeth latch on harder and harder until warm liquid oozed from the puncture of your skin.
Tears dripped from your eyes, cascading down your cheeks as you hiccupped and sobbed, your neck pulsating painfully. You didn't fight him, so caught up in the way he split you open.
The demonic clown paused, drawing back from your bruised and swollen neck, eyes flickering from the blood trickling down to your collar bone, and all the way up to your sparkling eyes, tears streaking your cheeks.
You winced, hair still wrenched back, moaning weakly at the pain, your breathing turning shallow again.
A hand cradled your jaw, thumb wiping a stray tear, and you couldn't help but nuzzle into the warm palm, comforting and big. It wasn't often he got to see your tears. The sight made him want to make you cry more, spill those fat droplets from your eyes.
Art tilted his head a fraction, inquisitive at your display of affection. You seemed to latch onto him, needing to be touched, gripping at him and melting against him. It was a far cry from your usual self.
His fingers moved down to the puncture wounds on your neck, pressing onto the tender flesh and making more tears spring from your eyes. It felt bruised and the skin was beginning to rise.
Blood dripped down your neck, and he used two fingers to swipe a clean line up your neck, coating his fingertips in the red substance.
Your eyes honed in on his crimson fingers, alight with need. Art tilted his head the other way, deciphering, and burned his gaze through your intimate display as you gripped at his hand and brought his fingers to your lips.
You suckled the tips, cleaning the crimson off of him, before taking his fingers into the back of your mouth, lathering them slowly.
Your own fingers dipped into the wound, wetting the digits red, before you hesitantly brought them towards his lips. His thrusting slowed, eyebrows lifting minimally, a shard of surprise running through him at your carnality. Your blood was alluring enough to halt his ministrations.
Finally, that dangerous mouth opened, slowly enveloping your smaller digits, tongue curling around them sinfully.
Your stare was unwavering, blinking from his mouth to his eyes before settling on those wretched depths. They swallowed you whole, scrutinizing your own visage. His smiling had long since ceased, a stern neutrality overcoming him even as you drew your fingers back and wrapped your arms around his neck to press your bloodied lips onto his.
The urge overcame you, tongues battling against one another messily. The remnants of your blood mixed between your lips, a soft moan of delight escaping you.
You never thought you'd be kissing this maniac. It sent heat coursing through you, borderline delirious from the feel of being so wrapped up in a being that was so dangerous.
Your passion resumed, hips lifting enough to feel the drag of his dick in your tight heat, before gliding back down with a light slap of your ass against his lap.
You were so wet it began to lather your inner thighs, dripping down your legs and coating his balls.
Your desire began to reignite, no longer a simmering heat and instead increasing to a boiling wave that overcame you. You grinded your hips, breaking your lips apart to gasp at his depth.
Art became watchful of your eager display, letting you pleasure yourself with his body. You leaned back, arms around his neck and extended straight so that you still had some leverage, and moaned wantonly as your position changed and his cock began to stimulate that lovable spot deep within you.
"Oh fuck--mmm--", your head lolled back, tits bouncing rhythmically as you increased your pace. You could barely hold your moans in now, overwhelmed by the pleasure of his length hitting you just right.
Art recognized the increase in your pitch and the way your body moved desperately upon his, and grinned. He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, gripping handfuls of your jiggling ass and beginning to meet your movements with his own, fucking up into you hard.
"Yes, right there, oh my god-", your legs were no longer folded below you, resting back on your knees. You had swiftly moved them, sitting fully into his lap now with your legs extended either side of his waist. This added even more depth to his movements. You could no longer grind your body against his, simply taking whatever he gave you.
"It's so deep, oh-" you began to quiver, needing so much more, but all he could do was smirk down at you amicably, as calm as ever, watching you fall apart as each thrust directly pummelled into that spot.
You felt like ripping your hair out in frustration, body squirming upon his own in distress. Each thrust was like a shot of an addictive drug, filing you up and making you feel so high, but you needed that unrepressed carnality that you craved.
Shaking your head with a pinched expression of dismay, you leaned forward to wrap your arms fully around his neck once again, head resting on his shoulder as you whimpered.
His rigid length bruised against your cervix, hands on your hips and holding you down just to get that inch deeper. You were shaking, exhaling little 'ohh's into his neck, eyes squeezed shut.
"Don't care anymore; Need it harder", you whined pathetically, warming his neck with your hot breath; you were starting to crack. "Please fuck me. Need you so bad. Making me feel so fucking good-Oh--"
Your waist was gripped in a bruising force, lifting your body up and down like a pliant doll, fucking you vigorously. Your sweet admittance sent a thrill through his body, so he supposed out of the kindness of his heart, he could cease his teasing. For now.
Art gave you a lascivious smirk, eyes twinkling mysteriously. With a slight shrug and a nod, he seemed to silently agree with himself that it was time to get serious.
The world around you blurred as you were thrown onto the bed, hips forced into position. Your body bared itself on hands and knees and you tentatively peered upwards towards the mirror, fists clenching into the quilt in anticipation.
You watched the large, looming clown settle behind you, swallowing your body whole. With a playful wave at your watchful gaze, Art thrust forward and buried himself within you.
Your breath escaped your lungs in a silent gasp, body lurching forward from the force as he held you in place and began fucking you deep and fast.
He didn't tease you this time. Everything that had happened previously had been leading up to this moment, and it was mind shattering.
Repetitive 'uh's and 'ohh's sprung from you at each thrust, his cock splitting you open well and good just like you've craved for so long. He felt massive in this position, your velvety insides hot and tighter.
Gliding out until the tip, he'd push back in smoothly, coated in your arousal. It drove you wild, the lewd smacking of skin and wet squelching that increased more and more as he drove in faster, harder.
Your knuckles were white from how hard you gripped the bedding, unintelligible praises falling from your lips at the way he made you feel.
" 'm so full, oh my god-", you cried almost lovingly at the sublime feeling of him tearing through your snug heat, near enough bruising your cervix.
With a cynical pout down at you, mockingly awed by your kind praises of his ample size, Art reached forward to grab a fistful of your hair, wrenching your body backwards so your back bowed enticingly. It made your ass look rounder, made it jiggle and ripple more against his unrelenting thrusts. It hypnotized him, his cock rock hard.
Your upper body was suspended by the hand in your hair, and you could now clearly see how ravaged you looked in the mirror. The looming Santa behind you dwarfed your figure, all jagged smile and wiggling eyebrows at your pleasured expression.
Your tits bounced prettily in the reflection, witnessing the way his normally piercing gaze faltered and darted down to the erotic scene, before darting back up to your face. His smirk appeared lascivious at being caught, and he gave a comical, light shrug.
For some reason, an infernal fire roared within you at that; This creature was evidently attracted to your feminine form. It made you moan louder, reaching forward to play with your round globes teasingly, jiggling them with your incessant fondling, biting your lip at him in the mirror.
You were becoming feral for him.
Art cocked an eyebrow, head tilted in rampant interest at your display. That same jagged smile returned, and almost as a reward, he leaned forward and circled two calloused fingers over your sensitive clit.
Your reaction was instantaneous, legs shaking and body jerking at the intense pleasure. It made you nearly collapse forward if not for the grip in your hair, his cock still relentlessly spearing you.
"Fuck, just like that, ohh--", you cried blissfully, shuddering. Arts expression appeared sternly concentrated on your exclamations and the way your body sucked him in greedily. His thunderous expression was terrifying, but it only served to increase the heat within you tenfold, your body pliant and melting into his ministrations.
He shattered your equanimity, your mind turning to mush and only thinking of his thick hands and his fat cock-
Your thighs were violently quivering, struggling to not collapse. Your moans increased in pitch, high and breathless and weak.
" 'M so close, your cock feels so fucking good and I'm going to cum, im--ohh!"
Your body was roughly dropped, a violent hand forcing you into the bed. Your ass remained high while your cheek laid itself upon the blankets, face contorting in mindless, pleasurable relief as those murderous hands gripped at your hips and began fucking into you so expeditiously you wailed.
His heavy balls slapped your clit with each filling thrust, teasing the bundle of nerves to the point your knees began to quake, on the brink of collapse.
"Fuck, fuck!", you shrieked in repetitive succession, breathing erratically as his thick, long, veiny cock fucked you so good that you just burst-
Your knees did collapse this time, but firm hands kept your hips situated perfectly to receive his godly pistoning. With a high, keening noise you didn't know you could ever make, so desperate and whorish, your pussy contracted and gushed.
Your thighs were soaked and dripping, your bedding ruined. You could feel the way his grip tightened bruisingly on your hips at the feeling of your insides pulsating steadily, milking him, demanding he fill you up like you craved.
Your self consciousness and any semblance of pride were shattered into a million pieces at the mind numbing euphoria you felt. It enveloped your entire body in a blanket and made you feel like you were floating. Your insides fluttered intensely making your breathing erratic and short.
Your face was forced even further into the bed as you reached two arms back, planting a hand on either side of your round cheeks.
With a flushed, fucked out visage staring back at Art from the way your face was turned on its side, you spread your enticing cheeks apart, moaning. "Need you to fucking fill me, need you to fuck me so full please please-"
Art couldn't deny the intense arousal that shot through his body and engorged his cock unnaturally further. Your dainty fingers spread your cheeks so far apart he could see the way your hole split around his length, the muscles parting forcefully at his intrusion. Your virgin, tight puckered hole caught his attention the most, and he moved a thumb to rub the area tenderly, a promise that he'd make you scream yourself hoarse the day he managed to fit his cock into that narrow passage.
You'd cry, he'd make sure of it, and the thought and the visual in front of him was enough to have him seizing your hips so strongly that they would bruise, fucking you brutally and hearing your sobs of pain and pleasure, before his hips stuttered once, twice against your cervix and a flood of hot, ropey squirts painted your insides.
He filled you so deeply it made your body think it needed to pee, if only to expel the amount of cum within you. It was unnatural, but he wasn't a mortal. If anything, the absurd amount made you melt dreamily into the bed, thoroughly fucked and bred and satiated for the time being.
You felt the clown retrieve himself, sliding out with a lewd squelch. Your hole gaped and quivered, his cum oozing out of you messily and coating your thighs. You moaned pleasantly at the feeling of two fingers scooping out the sloppy mess, coating his fingers with it before pushing them into your mouth. You accepted the gift, a noise of delight escaping you.
It made you want to suck his cock and have him fill your mouth until you choked. The thought was arousing, clitoris pulsating lightly as you reached down and rubbed it in lazy circles.
His body moved behind you, two hands gripping your ass cheeks before a hot, long tongue nudged your fingers aside and lapped at your clit. You moaned wantonly, pushing your hips back into his ministrations, feeling that heat invade your abdomen again, signalling another orgasm.
"Oh God, fuck, your tongue feels so-feels so--", you cried out as two fingers sunk into you to the knuckles, pushing the sloppy cum back into your hole dirtily, all the while his tongue lapped at and lathered your clitoris, licking broad, rough stripes up the bundle of nerves until you were a whining mess.
"Fuck, fuuuck, don't know if I want your tongue or your cock more, mmm-"
Art chuckled into your sodden pussy, eyebrows low and sinister. You were shameless, your pleasure ridden brain void of anything else other than the need to be fucked dumb.
A high pitched cry of pleasure tore him out of his condescending thoughts about you, his mouth drenched in your splattering orgasm. His fingers curled within you, brutally fondling that area that had you outright weeping into the pillows.
Little 'too much!'s and 'stop!'s were cried out to him desperately, your body convulsing as though you were possessed. Wiping his mouth, Art sat back and admired his work.
You were panting, pleading in a high pitched, pathetic tone. Your body was overwhelmed, tired and bruised, and Art sat back on his knees and thought for a moment, hand to his chin.
His eyes rolled up to the ceiling in brief contemplation, and then he shrugged, situating himself behind you again.
You whimpered at the feeling of him forcing his sturdy cock into your puffy walls once more. The sound you made was strangled and weak, drool dripping down your chin shamelessly, body losing function of itself. You were crying openly, brought deeper and deeper into a submissive sort of headspace.
He grinned sharply, his cock hardening at the sight of your pathetic state. He bet he could make your body lose all inhibition and piss itself. You'd be so ashamed, and he'd make you lick the liquid off of his cock; a good girl for Santa.
He began to fuck you, patting your messy hair adoringly. You whimpered and wailed, pleading for more, pleading for less. But he found that he wasn't finished with you just yet. You wanted this, didn't you? You told him so yourself.
With a comforting stroke of your hair, Art smiled mockingly down at you, pouting his lips out at your cuteness. He couldn't go back on his word; he was going to fuck you until you couldn't walk.
Thrusting into you, your mouth opened in unbridled pleasure.
The comforting stroke of your hair turned sinister, gripping a fistful up to the root.
Your pretty, wet eyes stared back at him over your shoulder, lips quivering.
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Epilogue
You had fallen unconscious. He had drawn orgasm after orgasm out of you to the point that you begged him to stop, crying so much that you couldn't breathe. Art adored your tears, awed and fascinated by them. The only reprieve you were given was your exhausted, slumped body falling soundly asleep. It was exquisitely blissful, but too much to bear.
You awoke with a weak groan, pushing yourself up to a seated position. You were naked in the blankets, but Art seemed to have the decency to clean you up slightly, your inner thighs dry and not at all the mess that they were a few hours prior. That was oddly sweet of him. And unexpected.
You wrapped a dressing gown around your body, wincing as you stood on shaky legs. Your insides felt battered and bruised, your hips dark with fingerprints. Making your way downstairs, your eyes were sleepy and lidded as you switched the kettle on to make yourself a coffee.
You had a moment of peace to yourself, or so you thought.
In came strolling that demonic clown, looking as fresh as a daisy and wide awake as he bounced preppily over to you, plonking his cup down beside yours in a silent request that he, too, wanted something hot to drink. Preferably hot chocolate.
He no longer adorned his Santa costume, instead dressed as he usually was in that monochromatic suit, face paint as immaculate as ever. He smiled down at you dazzlingly, or as brightly as a demonic entity could, patting your head like you were a golden retriever before grabbing the hot chocolate that you had barely stirred with your spoon and taking a seat at the table, newspaper in hand.
You eyed him warily, exhausted, and felt a small amount of embarrassment flourish within you at how normal he was acting and how drained you felt and looked and..
Not to mention the memories of last night either. You promptly locked them away in a box and threw away the key for now.
You reached up to grab a box of cereal from the shelf and sighed. You couldn't be bothered to eat right now, even though your stomach was grumbling noisily.
What you didn't expect was for a white hand to flash in your peripheral, grabbing it for you, before gripping your hips and spinning you to face him.
The pressure on your hips made you visibly wince, and Arts expression turned to one of shock, mouth an 'o' and eyebrows high. You frowned weakly at him before pushing his hands off of you with barely any effort behind it.
"Hurts." You pouted up at him, shaking your head lightly. You felt so weak, you really needed to replenish yourself and eat something.
Art cooed down at you, pinching your cheek lightly. You scowled now and moved away from him, thoroughly drained. He could sense that your usual fire had been doused at the moment, and held a finger up to represent a lightbulb moment.
Before you could contemplate it, you were picked up bridally and sped into the living room, making you squeal and giggle breathily. Art dumped you onto the settee, turning the TV on and putting on a horror film.
He jumped beside you, blanket covering both yours and his legs, and you couldn't help but smile dreamily at him.
He fucked you good and hard last night, and now wants to watch one of your favourite horror movies? What a gentleman. Art deadpanned at your bizarre expression, clicking his fingers in front of your eyes to snap you out of it. You only smiled wider, eyes crinkling.
"You know, you're sooo sweet when you want to be."
Art comically guffawed at your admittance, shaking his head swiftly to deny such a thing, lifting a finger to the side of his head and twirling it in a clockwise motion to signify you were crazy for ever thinking something like that.
The overly dramatic, rare expression had you giggling again, soft and sweet. Art rolled his eyes at you, waving you off as though to say 'yeah, okay, don't get used to it'.
Seeing this as a prime opportunity to tease, you were swiftly silenced as a slice of cake was shoved into your mouth. You don't know..where he got that, but he was a clown, after all, and it tasted edible.
Sighing contentedly, you chewed the sweet treat slowly, watching as the scene on TV displayed a possessed woman in the shower, scorching water melting her skin as she carved her mouth apart with glass.
You loved this movie, and Art seemed intrigued, cackling silently beside you. Wrapped up in the blanket, you leaned against him comfortably, and he seemed unperturbed by it, eyes honed in on the screen.
You don't know why he was being so gentle with you. Art never did things unless he wanted to, and that was enough of an answer for you; he simply wanted to act this way right now. Even still, it made you feel warm, and you supposed living eternally together wouldn't be so bad.
Well, that was until you fell asleep, awoken by the chill of having your thighs spread apart and cake smeared all over your puffy, abused folds.
"Art! What the hell are you doing?! I told you I'm in pain--"
Art chuckled evilly, leaning down to lick a gentle stripe up your icing covered lips, savouring the sweet taste.
Your breath hitched, but you still held your hands against his shoulders, faced etched with nervousness. "P-please don't. Can't..can't handle it right now."
Art tilted his head a fraction, staring up at you in awe. You had retracted to that submissive headspace again, and he found that he relished it. Repressing a cheeky grin, Art held his hands up placatingly, schooling his expression to one of neutrality, or rather barely masked amusement, and used his finger to draw an imaginary X over his heart.
"You mean you won't..be too much? Really? I'm having a hard time trusting you, you're literally grinning at me right now..." You huffed, expression incredibly wary.
Art covered his mouth with the back of his hand, teeth clenched as he grinned and laughed. Even still, he coughed once, face falling flat to prove he was.. moderately serious about being gentle with you.
In truth, he just wanted to eat your juicy pussy and hear you moan his name again. He bet he could get you to ask him nicely to fuck you.
For added effect, Art splayed his wide hands on your thighs and tickled the skin with either thumb, rubbing soothing circles into the flesh. Again, you had that dopey, dreamy expression on your face, and he began to think he really did damage your mind last night.
"Fine, just..be gentle, okay? I'm in no mood to quarrel today."
Art shrugged lightly. He kind of felt the same. It was refreshing hearing your soft voice instead of your screeching one of anger, or seeing your fluttering eyes at him rather than your stone cold ones.
Who knew that fucking you silly would make you so tame, so pliant. It was rather funny. Guess it proves that all you needed was a bit of dick to calm you down.
And Art was feeling surprisingly generous today. With a quirk of his lips, he settled between your thighs and placed them onto his shoulders.
Tongue darting out to lick up from your hole to your clitoris, he lathered the nub gently, lowering his lips to suckle it.
You gasped softly, widening your legs for him and biting your lip. The pleasure was instant, a heat boiling in your abdomen and fluttering down to your toes.
He was good at playing the part of devoted and gentle, and gripped at your hand delicately, lacing his fingers with your own in an intimate display. He watched you blush a pretty pink, mouth parting in awe at his uncharacteristic tenderness.
As you stared into his smouldering eyes, he smothered your clit beautifully, making you moan and buck your hips up into him.
He knew the moment your moans turned deep and sultry as he prodded a finger at your entrance, that you'd soon be backtracing your words and pleading with pouty lips that he fuck you gently.
There was an undeniable connection between you both; you were bound, after all, and even he wasn't immune to the effects of it. He'd still aggravate you, and absolutely wreak havoc on your wanting body, but he also rather enjoyed the peaceful tenderness of these moments, save for your breathy moans and the sounds of someone dying on the TV.
It made him feel peculiarly content. With a smirk into your sodden folds, Art thrust a finger into you deeply, standing between borderline pleasurable and 'too much', as you had said.
You had yet to berate him, he noted.
Within a few minutes, you were a mess down there, soaked and sticky with cake. He remained true to his word, not at all being rough, and instead holding you delicately in warm hands as he sucked and licked at your glistening folds.
"Art, it's the best part of the movie- Ah--"
He rolled his eyes at you, though did spare a single glance at the screen when he heard the sound of a chainsaw.
In no time, you were panting and reaching your peak, soft cry breathed into the air as his fingers curled and pumped into you, tongue massaging your clit. You gushed down his wrist, quivering.
Art smiled innocently up at your flustered self, imitating dabbing his mouth clean with a napkin. He jumped up and sprung beside you once more, pulling you into his sturdy lap and leaning back comfortably.
His eyes didn't leave the screen, fully focused.
You shifted, wiggling to get comfortable and felt his hard dick pressing against you. You bit your lip and glanced at him guiltily - you had just proclaimed that you were in pain today, and now you were having thoughts of him fucking you?
You settled back against him, flushed and buzzing with arousal. The film was almost over. Art grinned behind you, eyes ablaze with mischief. He knew what you wanted, but like you said, he was missing the best part of the movie.
Maybe if you're lucky, he'll fuck you later. But for now, you'd sit tiredly spent against his chest, chuckling at the brutal massacres on screen. More cake miraculously appeared, which always helped. It was pressed against your lips forcefully and you were more than happy to take it, humming in delight.
"Who'd have thought that you killing me all those years ago would evolve into this.", you smirked at him, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "You're actually really cute. No idea how I never noticed it before." Your girlish expression lit up your face, eyes sparkling.
Art looked exasperated at your comment and shrugged. He smiled cheekily, pointing at himself as if to bashfully say "who, me?"
Your giggles rung throughout your home, his silent laughter making your body move. You felt a sense of contentment - a partner in crime to maim people with and to fuck you dumb.
Your eyes swirled black, corrupt and tainted, and promptly shut sleepily.
What could be better than this?
i need him so bad. this is pure smut. i made an epilogue to add fluffy things but it turned into smut đ
also this isn't related to sporadic contingency at all, its just a standalone fic x
#art the clown#art the clown smut#terrifier#terrifier smut#art the clown x reader#art the clown x you#terrifer 3#terrifer#terrifer x you#terrifier x reader
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THE HISTORY BOOK ON THE SHELF. ( HOTD x Reader )
AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: King Aegon ii Targaryen x Targaryen! Little Sister! Reader prompt: When the small council plans to marry off once again, you turn to your older brother for help. word count: 1, 000+ words
You were the youngest and third daughter of Alicent and Viserys. A few months younger than Helaena and Aegon's little shadow in your childhood. Your older brother at first hated it, the way you cling onto him and gawk at him with an innocent awe.
It was your ninth name day, your Father had not paid much attention to it, but your Mother had ordered a celebration for it. You had trailed after him, babbling about nonsense as he tried to lose you. It was at dinner that night that everything had boiled over. Instead of receiving gifts, you had taken to giving everyone a gift.
He had not expected anything. He hadn't been the most kind to you. But was surprised when you had gifted him an embroidered cloth with Sunfyre on it. It was not the best and some threads were loose, but you proudly had told him you learned embroidery for him. Seeing those big doe eyes of yours his opinion changed. He adored you. You were the only one in the family that did not care about his worsening reputation. You just...adored your big brother, flaws and all.
It was why it killed him on your eleventh name day you were shipped off to the Reach, married off to a Lord as old as your Grandsire. He was haunted by your wails, of the way you clung onto Helaena and Aemond, the two of them wailing as Ser Cole carried you off to the carriage.
His young sister, the only one in the family who truly cared, was sold off like a piece of cattle. Not even your cold Grandsire was able to protest the marriage as politically it was a good match and good enough reasoning for the small council to approve it.Â
As years ticked by, you gave birth to two children, a stillborn daughter and a healthy son. Your husband kept you away in the Reach, so no one in your family had seen you since you were twelve and given birth to your only surviving son.
He remembered the look in your eyes, so void and almost dead. Of how you tried to stay positive. Saying, "Tis' not so bad. He mostly ignores me, except when he wishes to bed me. But even then tis' not so bad, he finishes quickly."
When he became King, he swiftly ordered you to return home, regardless of your husband's wishes. No one would take his baby sister away from him. Not whilst he was still alive and had the crown placed upon his head.
Watching you bounce your son on your lap, he attempts to pay some attention to the small council, but his eyes keep straying back to you. It was odd to think that you were now a Mother and all grown up. Snapping out of his little daze, he glances back at the small council, each member arguing intently. Furrowing his brows in confusion, Ser Criston slides a piece of parchment in front of him, an uncomfortable look on his face. Raising a brow at what he had just returned to, he glances at the parchment, reading the words quickly.Â
Your cunt of a husband was dead, finally croaked in his sleep. There was no reason for you to go back to the Reach. You could stay here in Kingâs Landing once more. Softly smiling at the good news, he goes to speak up when Lord Lannister stands up from his chair, slamming his hands down on the table. His face red from anger, his eyes wild like an untamable beast, and voice booming loud enough that it would make a dragonâs roar put to shame.
âTo speak of the Princess in such a manner is dishonorable, I will see to it personally that your tongue is removed, Lord Wydle.âÂ
âThe girl is of age, she has proven she can bear heirs, healthy heirs. To not give her hand to another Lord would be foolish.âÂ
âWe need allies, the common folk are starving and soon the coin will run out. Surely as Master of Coin you can see reason, Lord Lannister.â
âYour grace, please, listen to reason we shouldâŻâ
It takes a moment to realize what they had been discussing so intently. Then it clicks, they were speaking of having you remarry.Â
"What?" He whispers, his voice shaky and full of disbelief.
"No, Aegon, please don't make me do this again. Please." You whisper, tears building up in your eyes.
"It would be best to have your sister marry someoneâŻ"
"Think of the war, your graceâŻ"
Seeing the tears building up in your eyes, it reminded him of all those years ago when you were whisked away to the Reach. Struggling to speak up and dismiss their suggestions, you kneel in front of his chair, gripping onto breeches as you beg and plead for clemency to their plans. Your son starts to wail on the other side of his chair, making motions with his hands to be picked up.Â
Feeling his heart break a little at the sight, he shifts his gaze from you then your wailing son then back to the small council. Everything is hectic and he doesnât know who or what to focus his attention on. Does he console you? Does he tend to your wailing son? Does he handle the small council? Struggling to find his voice, he just stays frozen in his chair.Â
âPlease, please, do not make me do this again, Aegon.â You beg, âI did what was asked of me before. Please do not ask this of me again.â
âWe need allies, your grace. The Princess is still desired by many men, men who will look past her past marriage and son. Think of the kingdomâŻâ
âSend treaties, then!â
âPlease, Aegon. I ask as your sister, not a member of the Court. Please do not make me do this again. I do not wish to marry again. Please do not send me away again.â You beg, your voice cracking.Â
Watching as the tears begin to fall from your eyes, he clenches his jaw tightly, anger boiling up at the sight of you. His precious little sister, the one person in all of the Realm that he truly cared for, was crying by his small council's hand. Slamming his hands down hard on the table, the room goes deadly silent, minus the soft sniffles of you and your son.Â
âThere will be no marrying off my sister! If you wish for such alliances as much as you claim, do offer your daughters instead, for I will not be doing the same to my sister nor my daughter.âÂ
âYour grace, if you would justâŻâ
âI am King, no?â He snaps back, âThere will be no questioning of my decision. The matter is settled.â
----
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COME CLOSER
Summary: Reader asks her friend, Soldier Boy to take her virginity.
Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader
Warnings: +18! (MINORS DNI), virgin reader!, smut, language, rough Soldier Boy, beard kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, friends with benefits
Word Count: 4052
A/N: English is not my first language.
You grabbed the gun from Ben's suit and placed it in your bag without even waiting for a response since you knew he wouldn't refuse you. âMay I take this?â you said. âJust for safety issues.â
Ben joined the team to kill Homelander months ago, and because you two have been on missions together for so long, you two have kind of gotten to know one another. He frequently teased you, and most of the time he really got on your nerves. Another thing Butcher's wanted from you regarding Ben was to make sure you kept an eye on him while he was high or furious.Â
He sighed, âYou are already in safe hands,â and then gave you a little push toward the car, where Butcher and the other members of the team were waiting. âYou know that you are something different. Trying to protect yourself with a firearm in spite of the fact that you already have three supes with you, me included, who are the strongest and greatest.âÂ
âAfter the job is completed, even the biggest dicks become smaller. I wonder if your gigantic ego will ever be smaller one day, Ben.â
âNot mine,â he winked at you in between his laughter before the two of you entered the car. âHow on earth does a naive virgin speak like that? I must discipline your dirty mouth at some point.âÂ
He pushed until you reached the other side of the seat, and you muttered, âShut up.â Your face flushed. âYou leave no space for me.â
âDo I look like your personal driver?â Butcher growled at Hughie to come in too, questioned in a disapproving tone. Then Butcher turned back to Hughie, who was sitting in the passenger seat, and said, âWhere the fuck is your girlfriend?â
âShe arrived earlier with the others. They were driven there by Frenchie already.â
âWill you shut up and drive?â Ben messed with your hair for a while while ignoring what you said that he was going to ruin it, saying to Butcher in an irritated manner.Â
âGood boy gone bad, huh?â Ben ignored you and filled the entire seat between your complaints. Butcher murmured, âLet's fucking have some fun there since we may not be finding any free time soon, Navy girlies.âÂ
Luckily, Butcher managed to locate a club devoid of supes, but it was still massive and insane, complete with loud music. Hughie's gaze found Annie right away, and Butcher followed after him while he winked at the girl who was staring at him with a chuckle.Â
You gave Ben a drink and complained, âDo I have to babysit you?â Even though all of the girls were capturing his attention, he was undoubtedly hearing what you were saying.Â
He patted your head and said, "Babysit me?" with a look of astonishment. "Sweetheart, it's me who has been watching you for several months. After all, it's easy for you to get into trouble."Â
"Me?" As he messed with your hair, you giggled and attempted to push his hands away. "You're always on the verge of being furious for no reason at all, and I have to keep your ego boosted when you are about to lose it."Â
"Or maybe I act it this way to get you even more anxious; what do you think? Your human face looks so funny when you're trying to calm me," he smirked and remarked with arrogance.Â
Punching him in the chest, you said, "You're impossible," although your wrist ached. You sighed in agony, "Fuck, Ben," and made sure everything was okay by looking at your hand. Thankfully, there were no physical wounds.Â
"Why the fuck have you tried to punch me now? Haven't you still learned I'm built to last?" he complained, gently massaging your hands.Â
You muttered, "You're so annoying," while he sighed and released your hands. "I can't imagine why almost nobody likes you."Â
"All you do this evening is talk rudely with that lovely mouth of yours and spit poison. Also, you are to blame. How many times do I have to tell you not to try to punch me? Wish to adopt a tough-ass persona? You're just a little sensitive, soft doll," he continued to tease, causing you to flush with rage.Â
"Remember the day I gave myself a Temp-V injection? When I really punched you, you seemed rather surprised, and I'm sure it hurt."Â
âI didn't think being a temporary Supe could happen, and that was a while ago.â Ben continued to smirk and replied, âKeep that in mind. I was merely trying to comprehend the change in your scent when you unexpectedly struck me and pushed me against the wall. You know, I should have been doing that. Of course, I'm not referring to the punching; rather, I'm speaking to the second one, but more gently.â
Ben flirted with you, giving you a tiny pinch on the chin and a wink. He was perhaps the most flirtatious man ever, but the reason he acted this way was that you told him you were a virgin, and even when he understood you were becoming too shy and a little anxious, he continued to tease you verbally. You didn't feel uncomfortable about it, though.Â
âWhatever.â You rushed to end it, fearing he would start talking even more profanely. You tried to silence him by putting your palm over his mouth. âWhen are you going to shave this beard? It's really lengthy.â
He murmured, âI thought you liked it longer and thicker,â as he combed his facial hair.Â
This time, instead of being annoyed, you giggled. âYou're impossible.âÂ
You said, âI'm going to check on Annie and others,â feeling a little guilty for something you didn't even understand when you saw him searching for women who fit his tastes. âSo that you can have your fun.â
Ben, who had just bought a drink for himself, approached a redhead who had been staring at him passionately ever since he entered the bar. You led the way to join Annie and the rest of the team, but you were carrying a heavy weight that you couldn't quite explain. You did your best to ignore the stupid ache in your heart and laugh out loud at Butcher's half-made-up stories. It was a rare, heartfelt moment of calm after months, shared by all of you as you briefly watched the redhead woman take Ben's head and lead him to the second floor.
Ben's social batteries ran out after a few hours, and when he got into a fight with Butcher, you volunteered to take him home in your car because you were starting to have headaches too. Annie and Kimiko were dancing in the center; it appeared like they were just getting started. Either their heightened enthusiasm was to blame, or you simply didn't feel like having fun at that particular time. Ben was the source of your annoyance because he preferred to spend his time in the club having fun with other women and left you kind of alone.
You just said, âI will drive Ben back; just stop arguing for once,â and snatched Butcher's keys. âI assume everyone will be arriving home late. It appears that Kimiko and Annie won't be calling it a night anytime soon.â After observing them for some time, they realized you were right. Kimiko was high as fuck.
Ben didn't have a shower in his own room, so he quickly took one in yours once you drove home. Surprisingly, he hasn't complained to Butcher about it in any manner, and you've allowed him to use yours anytime he needs to, even if he occasionally takes a shower a bit too frequently, leading you to believe that he does it on purpose to irritate and enrage you so that you two can argue. But no matter what, his unique word choice never failed to make you chuckle.
As he was taking care of himself in the bathroom, you considered something you had long since ignored: your virginity. You could never go one step beyond, not even if you were in your mid-20s. You just didn't want it to be just one fleeting, pointless act, and you didn't feel anything at all. Perhaps you were a shamefully traditional person who was eagerly awaiting the realization of your real fate.
Ben used to make jokes about your virginity, which you didn't mind, but tonight it kind of got under your skin and made you feel uneasy, like there was something wrong with you. It just didn't seem right at all to be a virgin in your mid-twenties.Â
âYou appear to be lost in thoughts. What's consuming your mind so much?â Ben queried.Â
His long beard and damp hair were pouring over the floor as he emerged from the bathroom, his thick, muscular belly wrapped in a towel. Your eyebrows are raised between your sighs. Though you always knew he was extremely attractive, he seemed even more so at this moment.Â
Ben glanced at your short dress too, seeing that you were staring at him as your lips parted slightly in a hint of yearning. He smirked, conceited, seeing your legs pushed together.Â
âI think I can make a guess.â He walked over to sit on the bed next to you and mumbled.Â
You hesitantly said, âI was thinking something,â not quite sure what to say exactly.Â
âAbout?â
You abruptly asked, trying not to flush too much as you moved the bed and fully turned your body to face him. âWould you take my virginity?âÂ
Ben exclaimed, âWhat?â with his lips parted in wonder as he tried to understand what you meant and raised an eyebrow.Â
âYou already heard me.âÂ
Ben laughed and ignored your request, saying, âAre you drunk or do you need to jerk off? You're going to be a good nun when you grow up.â
âI'm serious here,â you said, blushing red from embarrassment and rage at the fact that the fact that he didn't take you seriously at all.
Ben's mocking expression changed to one of confusion as he realized you were serious. âI thought you were waiting for the love of your life or something. Why did you change your mind all of a sudden?â
âI wasn't waiting for someone,â you denied right away. âI decided being like this bothers me, and I want to change it.â
You continued, âWe have known each other for months, and I think we kind of formed a good friendship during this time,â before he said anything, you added, âIt must be okay to ask your friend for help, and it's better than to be with a total stranger, right?â
âI'm not the right person to share something like that.â Ben said in a serious tone, âI don't know why you made this decision so quickly, but you'll regret it tomorrow, I promise. If you are horny, I can give fingerfuck you, though.â It was clear that he was not hearing you clearly.Â
âIt's not really that significant, is it? I didn't wait for someone right away, as I had said. If I knew I would regret saying it, I wouldn't have said it in the first place. What's the purpose of friends?â
Hesitantly, you reached out to touch his damp arms to gauge his reaction while also conveying your concern. You felt your small confidence begin to fade as you noticed he was staring at you with the same expression, so you brought your hands back to yourself. âWell, of course I won't try to convince you to take my virginity if you don't want to get into such an intimate interaction with me,â you said, trying not to seem offended or disappointed. âIt's a different issue.â
Your heart raced under your thin dress as you anxiously awaited his response.Â
âI would fuck you with pleasure; it's not that I don't want it,â he added, examining your bare legs and breasts as they rose and fell in time with your heavy breaths. He whispered, placing his rough palms on your chin. âBut I can't promise it won't hurt, and I don't want it to be just a one-time thing.â
You muttered, âI know it's going to hurt,â and at last he relaxed and seemed to agree.Â
He smirked and continued, âI'll fuck your cunt whenever I want,â staring right into your eyes and making you tremble at the sensation. âYou'll spread your legs for me and beg me to fuck you.â
âIt's better,â you said as his hand lowered to your throat, causing you to become even more thrilled. You chuckled awkwardly and murmured, âPractice makes perfect, right?â
Your lips parted in ecstasy as his thumb massaged your hardened nipple, and he gently pinched it between his fingers through your dress. He didn't even slightly break eye contact with you, as if he wanted to watch every move you made.Â
Ben mumbled, âI wonder if you're dripping under there already,â as he climbed on top of you. Feeling uncertain about what action to take, you placed your quivering hands on his large chest.Â
His palm stroked your pussy through your underpants, and you clenched around nothing, murmuring, âI feel like it.â You were already embarrassingly drenched; you knew that.Â
âBen,â you murmured quickly, and his hand instantly froze there. He stared at you, confused, not knowing if you wanted to stop or not. You grabbed his wrist and stopped him just as he was about to return his hand to himself. âCan you do the entire job for tonightâ you said in a hesitant manner. âI have absolutely no idea what to do.â
Ben surprised you with a kiss on the forehead and said, âOf course I'll do the entire job. You just lay down and relax. I'm going to take care of you well, okay?â
You nodded quickly, trusting that Ben knew what to do when he started to rub your pussy through your underwear again. Your hips rose higher to meet his movements as he played with your clit with a gentle thumb. âLet's get rid of your dress, huh?â he said, helping you to remove it from your body. You were lying under him naked, except for your underwear.
You wanted to hide your body with your hands because you felt a little shy, but you forced yourself to look at him with courage because you wanted this to be good. Even if he was already erect under the towel, he ignored his own needs to give you the pleasure you needed first.
Then he pinched your nipples once more and added, âYou have such lovely tits.â Before you could respond, he put his warm lips on one of your tits and started sucking, giving you very light bites. You were a little scared that he could harm you because you had a big power imbalance since he was a supe, but you chose to put your trust in him because you knew he had experience having intercourse with normal people just like you.
As he continued licking both of your nipples, you placed your hands behind his hair and pulled. You pushed his head to your tit as you raised your hip to match his movement, but you moaned loudly when he ripped off your panties and inserted one of his meaty fingers inside of you slowly, even though you were trying really hard not to scream. It was difficult to take even one finger, so tears welled up in your eyes, but you didn't want to ruin the moment.
Groaning, âFuck, you are tighter than I expected,â he lifted his head.
When he noticed your pained expression, he began to gently massage your clit with his thumb once again. Thankfully, this helped you feel better, and after a while, you began to slowly tighten around his finger.
He asked in a rough voice, âDo you like me fingering you?â and continued to push his finger in and out. âYour pussy is so adorable and swollen. You so desperately need me to fuck you raw.â
He commanded, âTell me it's just for me,â tensing up his motions as you continued to tighten around his finger.
You said, âJust for you,â and he attempted to press another finger, but you were simply too tense to take it. You said, âBen, be slow,â in a panic.
âIn order for you to take me easier, we need to properly prepare your little pussy. Now spread your legs and don't cover that adorable cunt,â he gave another command. It was then that you realized you were attempting to press your legs together.
You spread your legs so he could see you as per the directions he gave. You let out a loud cry of pleasure and agony as he carefully inserted another finger. Ben swallowed your groans and stretched you with two fingers, his warm lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.
You were moaning inside his mouth while his tongue and fingers dominated you. Ben felt your wetness on his fingers, your hips rising to match his rhythm, and he felt like he might come without even touching himself.
With a harsh voice, he commanded, âCum on my fingers,â and proceeded to fuck you while your walls tensed up. With a loud moan and his name between your lips, you nailed his biceps while he watched you orgasm under his touch. âGood girl. You are so easy to make cum. Fuck, you're a needy one.â
You continued orgasming and wetting them while Ben held your fingers within. Even though your pussy felt extremely sensitive, he continued to finger you without giving you a minute's break after your climax had passed.
âBen, it feels sensitive.â
âFucking take it,â he growled. âYou'll come as much as I want you to.â
You muttered, âI don't think I can,â as your legs continued to shake uncontrollably.
âYou can and you will,â Ben responded, and he proceeded to fuck you even more forcefully than before.
The bedroom was filled with obscene noises, and your eyes welled up with tears of pleasure.
âCum to me,â he commanded again, and you instantly clenched around his fingers. Putting your hands over his head, you kissed him, pressing your lips to his in an attempt to stop your moans.
As you orgasmed, you sensed him grinning slightly against your lips throughout the kiss. He whispered, âYou're so fucking tight, you're almost going to lock me inside your pussy,â as you calmed down after your climax subsided. âI guess you're ready now.â
Your eyes widened with fear and dread as he removed the towel from his belly and threw it to the ground, revealing his firm cock. Ben began to give himself brief strokes while spreading your legs apart. Aware of your discomfort, he smiled slightly at you. âI'll do my best to be gentle. You're enough soaked already.â
You nodded to him, waiting tensely as you watched him pump himself between his rough hands. You tensed up abruptly as the tip of his cock touched your entrance, and he took himself in hand after giving it enough strokes.
He said, âRelax,â and kept pushing the tip inside. âFuck, take it already.â
You attempted to let him in, your legs trembling with desire and dread, but you couldn't stop clenching.
You whimpered, your eyes welling with tears, as he thrust his cock inside with a forceful move. You also pulled his hair around his neck. Your hips were being held in place by his hands, preventing you from moving them. You were certain that it would bruise badly.
You cried out in fear, âBen,â as he persisted in pushing. Tears fell from the corner of your eyes onto the covers when you were nailing his arms.
He groaned, âCalm down,â and gave you some time to relax. âIt's just the head.â
âSorry,â you said, ashamed that you weren't able to bear pain and adding unnecessary difficulty to the procedure.
His eyes widened at the sight of your face, and he planted a gentle kiss on your forehead. He whispered, âHey, it's okay. You take me so good, so warm,â in between kisses and proceeded to place his cock inside of you once more. You knew it was a major step for you when you felt like he broke your hymen. This time, his hands gently remained on your hips as he sensed a change in your feelings.
Thank goodness, you relaxed between his kisses and compliments, and your wetness allowed him to enter at last. Ben gave you time to get used to his size after his cock completely filled your insides.
After planting another hard kiss on your lips, he asked, âAre you okay now?â and stroked your cheeks.Â
You responded, âI'm okay,â as the agony lessened and you began to get pleasure from his cock pulsing inside of you.Â
Ben put his hands on the sheets, and as he started to move slowly inside of you, you locked your legs around his hip.Â
He groaned, âYou're so tight around me,â as he began to move faster. âI should have fucked you sooner.â
He gave you quick kisses, and his bushy beard tickled your chin as he began to fuck you quickly and roughly. âI'll turn this little cunt addicted to my cock.â
As you continued to moan beneath him, he gave another order: âTell me you want me to fuck you hard.â
You murmured, âPlease,â and he slowed down.Â
Ben wrapped his hand around your neck and said, âBeg me properly,â but he wasn't using force against you.Â
You sighed, âFuck me hard, please, Ben.â You moaned as you saw his mucsles stretching as he continued to penetrate you quickly and roughly. Your hands nailed his chest and broad abdomen.Â
He put your legs on his shoulders and stated, âI'm going to fuck you every day; make you my little cumslut. Do you enjoy having your friend fuck you? Does this turn you on?â
When he kept talking filth, you couldnât stop clenching around his cock.
He moaned, âFuck,â in between hard strokes. âLook at this pussy clench. You really get turned on by it.â
Ben intensified his movements as your legs trembled with pleasure around his hips, and you felt your climax strike with a loud moan and a cunning sneer on his face. You tried biting your lip to muffle the moans, but it was difficult as Ben fucked you raw, on top of you, dominating your whole body.Â
He whispered, âI'm going to fuck your face another time,â and put his thumb inside your mouth. âSuck it. Prove to me how much you crave my cock inside your mouth.â
You groaned in displeasure as he slowed. Ben strictly said, âSuck it, show me how badly you want my cock inside your mouth, and I'll fuck you as you need,â when you lifted your hips to get him to return to his previous rhythm.Â
With the expectation that he would like it, you put your lips around his thumb and started to lick it with your tongue.Â
He mumbled, âFuck yes, gonna cum inside that mouth,â and started fucking you quickly and roughly once more.Â
He muttered, âAlmost there,â and continued to fuck you while staring at your bouncing tits.Â
His hardness continued to throb inside of you as you tightened around him one more time and orgasmed. He moaned and spilled inside of you, filling you with his thick and warm ropes.Â
Ben continued to fill your pussy as your climax subsided. You felt incredibly satisfied because you felt so full of his seed.Â
When he was finished, he carefully pulled out his cock, exposing the blood at the tip. Ben gave you a long, hard kiss on the lips when he noticed you were staring at it.Â
You offered him a tiny smile as he whispered, âCome closer,â and he embraced you with his large arms. âAre you alright?âÂ
You continued to stroke his beard while responding, âYes.â Actually, you've never felt better.
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Burning Love
Request: Yes or No
Summary: As the eldest son and heir to the Iron Throne, Prince (Y/N) Targaryen has many responsibilities; most of which his darling sister hopes to share with him one day.
Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader
TW/CW: Targcest/Incest (Full-blooded Brother-Sister), Aemma lives!! and Alicent is not a childbride, mentions of stillbirths and miscarriages (Aemma's pregnancies)
Collecting HOTD oneshots like pokemon cards at this point
~~~
It was known that Targaryens had... questionable traditions. Traditions those with outsider perspective could only force themself to understand.
There was the act of putting a dragon egg in the cradle of a babe and hoping the egg would hatch sometime soon after to ensure the babe was bonded to a loyal protector they'd grow up alongside of; a tradition started by Rhaena Targaryen, eldest daughter of King Aenys I and Queen Alyssa Velaryon. Targaryens were Dragonriders, bonded with the very beasts they used to conquer the lands and pull them all into one kingdom (with the exception of Dorne, of course). They cremated their dead, a custom from Old Valyria, often with the help of a dragon belonging to their closest kin.Â
And of course, the most infamous and often looked down upon custom, wedding kin to kin. Another custom from Old Valyria that many followers of the Seven turned their cheek upon, for they found the act of wedding siblings to siblings and so forth (apart from cousin to cousin) a sin. Faithful followers could voice their complaints as much as they wished, but Targaryens were kings, queens, princes, and princesses. Nobody could or would stop them from keeping their bloodline pure if they so wished.Â
Descending from a long, historic, and proud family, Rhaenyra grew up listening and learning the tales of those who'd come before her. Aegon the Conquer and his faithful sister-wives, Rhaenys and Visenya; the many rebellions and fighting brought on during the lives of King Aenys I and King Maegor the Cruel; The Old King Jaehaerys who'd chosen her father, Viserys, as heir over his own late heir's daughter, Rhaenys; and of course, the histories written during the early stages of her father's reign.Â
Her beloved older brother had been two when King Jaehaerys named their father heir and three when their father ascended the throne whilst their beautiful mother, Aemma Arryn, carried her in the womb. The fourth person to ever hold little Rhaenyra in their arms had been her brother, closely supervised by their parents and the maester attending the birth, of course. With a healthy son and daughter, Viserys and Aemma hardly needed for more children, but they tried anyway. Their attempts never carried to term, however, and any little ones that did were either stillborn or died mere hours or days after birth.Â
Still, Rhaenyra never needed for any more siblings. Her brother was enough, in her humble opinion. He cared for her diligently, especially during their younger years when he eagerly wished to play with her, even if it meant the two of them being gently scolded at the end of the day for dirting Rhaenyra's dresses with mud and dirt. (Y/N) treated her as his equal, even showing her how to use a wooden sword when he began his training and helping prepare her for dragon-riding on Syrax. His own mount hardly needed much training in the Dragonpit, for the mighty Vermithor's first rider had been the Old King.
As time passed, the siblings were forced apart more often than Rhaenyra enjoyed. She'd made up her mind long ago that she and (Y/N) would one day be wed, and she'd be his formidable sister-wife. Their parents merely chuckled about it when she'd first told them at the age of seven, her squeaky voice and flushed cheeks only drawing cooing from Aemma and sweet smiles from Viserys. The absence of her brother had been stark, his time taken up by training, studying, and spending time with the Small Council, but Alicent Hightower had quickly taken his spot as Rhaenyra's companion.Â
However, in due time, (Y/N) became man-grown, and while Rhaenyra quickly followed with her flowering, as heir and prince, (Y/N) became the most eligible bachelor in all of Westeros. It took time for it to become apparent to Rhaenyra but her eyes and ears opened when she heard their parents speaking of it. Many families, highborn and lowborn, offered their daughters through letters or visits to Kings Landing. Lannisters, Baratheons, Starks, Brackens, Blackwoods, Tullys, and plenty more came forth. Even Otto Hightower made a passing comment about wedding Alicent to him. It was infuriating.
"In truth, I do not understand your irritation, Rhaenyra," Alicent spoke gently, her slender fingers working on embroidery. A flower she'd seen in the gardens, or something along those lines. Rhaenyra hadn't truly been paying attention to her dear friend. She'd been too focused on silently fuming at the sight of her brother showing one of the highborn ladies around the Red Keep. Every giggle, every blush, every bat of her eyelashes made Rhaenyra tick. "It's wonderful to watch one's brother fall in love."
"You wouldn't understand, Alicent." Rhaenyra sighed. "It is like the love King Jaeherys and the Good Queen Alysanne had."
Alicent faltered at her words, her head lifting to eye her friend with a small grimace. "You do remember our lessons, correct? King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne had to wed in secret, for they knew that not even their mother approved in fear of another uprising from the Faith. Nobody has made a fuss over your parents since they are cousins, but who knows what may happen if you wed (Y/N)."
"(Y/N) is everything King Jaehaerys was, Alicent. He is beloved by the Realm." Rhaenyra reminded her friend with a small smile, pushing herself off the cushioned seats and smoothing her hands over the front of her dress. Her earrings swung slightly when she tilted her head slightly to the side, the ends of them brushing against her shoulders. Her eyes tracked (Y/N) as he lifted the lady's hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles before departing. "He will be a good king, and if I could prove it, IÂ would be a good queen. His queen." Her feet began moving automatically.Â
"Rhaenyra," The name tumbled out of Alicent's mouth, her hands fumbling with the items in hand. "Where are you going?"
Bunching up the skirt of her dress in her hands, Rhaenyra grinned over her shoulder and chuckled at the concerned look on Alicent's features that only grew at the sight of her mischievous glint. "To speak with my brother!"Â
With a goal in mind, Rhaenyra entered the castle and followed the distant figure of her brother as he cut down hallways with long strides until he reached his bedchambers. Rhaenyra took a moment to herself to catch her breath and rake her fingers through her long silver locks before she approached the doors and nodded for the guards to open them. She stepped inside, a smile appearing across her lips when (Y/N) turned to look at her.Â
"My favorite sister," (Y/N) cooed, taking a seat at his desk and unrolling a letter. Rhaenyra rolled her eyes in return, clasping her hands together behind her back and taking small steps toward him. He skimmed the contents of the letter, his face giving away nothing of what it spoke of. "Is there something you require, Nyra, or are you suffering from boredom? I have plenty of lords and ladies who'd be happy to keep you busy."Â
Rhaenyra scoffed quietly and (Y/N) gave a small grin. "I hear Father is urging you to find a wife."
"The Small Council is urging him to urge me, more like. They believe it is time to begin having children. Seeing as Father and Mother had great difficulty, they wish for me to have an heir by the time I ascend the throne to ensure there won't be issues later on." (Y/N) explained, coiling the letter back up and pulling out a blank paper. He dipped his quill in ink and began writing. "Otto has been... more friendly as of recently. He speaks incredibly highly of Lady Alicent."Â
"You'd tell me if you were interested in someone, wouldn't you?" Rhaenyra reached over the desk to pluck the quill from his fingers, setting it aside and raising her brows at him. (Y/N) slumped back in his seat and laced his fingers over his midsection, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes. Rhaenyra rounded the table and without thinking twice, she plopped down on his thigh.Â
"Nyra,"
"You know as well as I do who you should wed, (Y/N). I know what a good queen should be, and I do not care about status or riches like the families of those ladies do. We have the blood of the dragon in our veins. Nobody would truly understand us." Rhaenyra spoke softly, her bottom lip slightly jutting out as she placed her palm over his cheek. His own hands unlaced, one moving to press against her back.Â
"The Small Council-"
"Fuck the Small Council." Rhaenyra huffed, earning a quiet chuckle from her brother. "You are the prince, the heir. Whatever it is you choose, they must deal with it. It is their job to counsel, to offer their advice and opinions, not to dictate what you do. We could mount Syrax and Vermithor and fly elsewhere to wed in the customs of Old Valyria."Â
A gentle sigh escaped (Y/N), and he leaned forward to press a delicate kiss to Rhaenyra's shoulder. The princess relaxed at the action, her hand moving past his cheek to the back of his head. (Y/N)'s lips curled up. "You are insufferable." He told her with a gentle laugh before leaning in to press their mouths together. He drew back too quickly for Rhaenyra's liking. "But a good ruler is a patient one, Nyra. If you wish for us to wed, or to lay together-" He brushed their lips together teasingly. "-you must wait. Father and Mother will be easy to convince."Â
"Does it matter if we wait?" Rhaenyra tilted her head and batted her lashes coyly, the feigned innocence prompting (Y/N) to roll his eyes. She rose from his lap and dropped her hands to his, tugging on them until he stood up from the chair. She smiled widely, devilishly even, and slung her arms around his shoulders. "We will be wed, regardless. It will not matter."Â
"I have things I must do, Nyra." (Y/N) gave a heavy sigh and shrugged his shoulders, his hands coming to rest on her waist. "As I said, you must be patient. If you wish to speed things along, you should speak with Mother. She'll always be the key to winning Father over." He told her and planted a kiss on her temple before settling back down on the chair.Â
"Will we be like that someday?" Rhaenyra asked softly, stepping out of the way so he could resume his letter. She toyed with the rings along her fingers, the thought of becoming one of those couples who genuinely cared for each other bringing a smile to herself. It was a desire all ladies had. While sons could marry whichever woman of age they desired, ladies had to hope the husbands their fathers or elder brothers chose were good men. She'd seen far too many times the faces of girls her age married and chained to men old enough to be their grandfathers.Â
(Y/N) paused his writing and lifted his head to look at her, offering a reassuring smile. "Someday." He nodded.Â
"I look forward to it, then."
#x reader#x you#x y/n#x male reader#x male!reader#house of the dragon#hotd#house of the dragon x reader#house of the dragon x male reader#house of the dragon x you#house of the dragon x y/n#hotd x reader#hotd x you#hotd x y/n#hotd x male reader#rhaenyra targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen x reader#rhaenyra Targaryen x male reader#rhaenyra targaryen x you#rhaenyra Targaryen x y/n#aemma arryn#king viserys#alicent hightower#otto hightower
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Indeed, my girl.
Cregan Stark x Velaryon!reader
Summary: The reader is dealing with the grief of losing Luke. Cregan helps in the ways he can.
Warnings: Talks of attempted sa, Threatening, Talks of death, cursing, mental health
Masterlist
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She hadn't been the same since the death of her younger brother.Â
Cregan had noticed it.Â
Fewer meals, fewer baths, fewer words, and fewer movements entirely.Â
As if the grief was killing her from the inside.Â
And he could only watch.
He was a man of action. He'd killed men with his bare heads for far less.
And he could only watch as grief was murdering his wife.Â
...
"There's something on your mind," he stated from the doorway of their shared chambers.
She sat on the floor in front of the fireplace.Â
When she made no motion to look at him, he walked to her, kneeling down with a hand on her back, "I wish I knew what you think so much about."
She shook her head as she stared at the flames. Her voice was hoarse, "No, you don't."
He tilted his head, "Try me."
She turned and looked at him from over her shoulder.Â
Only then did he notice the hollowing of her cheeks.Â
The dark circles under her eyes.Â
She sniffled, "Does the pain go away?"
He felt his chest tighten.Â
The death of his own younger brother.Â
His brother had died years ago.
"No."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"You just learn to live with it." He said awkwardly.Â
Starks were not made for emotions.
She turned to him completely now, abandoning warmth of the fire, "How?"
"I dunno. It just happens one day." He looked off in thought. "You forget about it for a while. ButâŠ"Â
She felt herself leaning into every word.
"You still see him in every first snow of the winter. Every pine tree with missing branches." He lets out a strained laugh, "And every fucking rabbit."
She shifted herself closer, wiping at her cheeks. "I⊠I see him. When I close my eyes."
He nods, "You will. You always will."
"I haven't felt this since," she pauses, "Since⊠Ser Harwin died."
Ser Harwin Strong.
Her biological father.
"And did that ever go away?" He asked quietly.
She sniffled, "No. But it became easier with time. WhenâŠ" Her eyes flooded with tears again, "When I forgot what he looked like."
He couldn't help the coo from his throat as he immediately pulled her into his lap.
"What if I forget what he looks like, Cregan?" She asked in horror.
He tucked her face into his neck, "It'll be alright."
"What if⊠if this was my fault?" She sobbed into him.
"How could it ever be your fault, my girl?" He asked calmly.
Her shoulder shook with hiccups, "Like⊠with⊠with Harwin⊠and I⊠it's⊠it's my faultâŠ"
He pulled her away from him to look into her eyes, "What do you mean?"
"I had⊠and whenâŠ"Â
"Shh," he immediately cooed. "Tell me when you're ready. " His hands brushed her cheeks gently, catching stray tears as she tried to steady her breathing.Â
After a while, she managed it enough to speak, "I was the reason⊠Harwin was sent away."
His brows furrowed, "I'm not understanding you, sweet girl."
"He was sent away for⊠for defending us as bastards against Ser Criston. And⊠Harwin was already mad at Criston because of me."
Cregan hummed, "Alright?"
"I look like him but⊠I⊠I looked like my mother then. And⊠Criston at one point liked my mother very much. And⊠and in turn, he began to take a liking to me."
Cregan's jaw clenched at the sound of where the story was going.Â
"One night, I⊠I was going to my chambers and⊠and he pinned me to the wall and⊠tried to⊠sully me."
His hands that were on her hips tightened and his eyes darkened, "What?"
"You took my maidenhead, Cregan. You know that."
Her words did little to comfort him. "But how far did he get? I'll fucking kill him myself."
"I'm fine. I got out. And⊠I told Harwin. He promised to deal with it the next day and⊠Criston questioned our parentage that day. That day it all happened and he was sent away. To die in that stupid fucking fire." She leaned back, "If I had just kept it to myself, he wouldn't have been so angry-"
"-No. No. Don't even begin to say that," Cregan said firmly as he took her face in his hands again. "You did it all right."
"It doesn't feel like it."
"I know it doesn't."
"Luke looked like him the most."
He pulled her to him again.Â
Her voice grew low, "I'll kill them all."
Cregan stared at the flames of the fireplace.Â
He was quiet for a while, until his voice came out strong and firm, "The North remembers."
She leaned away, rubbing at the few tears that still laid on her cheeks. "The Greens don't know what they've done."
"Aye. They don't."
Here, in Winterfell, the two lovers began to find solace in each other.Â
"You're the only other person that IâŠ"
Cregan hung on every word now. He spoke in a low murmur, "Say it. You can say it to me."
"-I've never told anyone else what happened with Cole. Besides Harwin. Just⊠you."
He felt a protective feeling surge through him. Nothing was getting through him to her, he'd make sure of that.
"You remind me of him, you know."
He paused, "Who, my girl?"
"Harwin."
His lips parted, "HowâŠ. How so?"
Her hands moved his face, caressing his cheeks until they grew firm, "You wouldn't let anything fucking touch me either."
He could've let that smirk grow more on his face, but he kept it suppressed, "I won't let anyone or anything touch you, my girl. I swear it."
She hummed, relaxing, "Much like him. Like home."
Cregan let a smile come across his face, "I'm honored I'm like home to you, sweet Princess."
"HeâŠ" She smiled, recalling a memory, "He had taught my brothers the sword. As a girl, I had no luxury. But⊠in secret, he gave me lessons with throwing knives."
His head tilted, impressed, "He taught you how to throw knives?"
"He was a talented man."
"Aye."
"That's how I did it."
"Did what, pretty?"
She paused, taking a deep breath, "How⊠I defended myself. Cole, he⊠he pinned me to the wall. When he was distracted, I pulled my knife on him and threatened him with something⊠too unladylike to say."
Cregan Stark felt a deep surge of pride flow through his body at her confession. "Tell me."
"Oh, no. It's⊠it's too crude."
His hands moved to her thighs, "Please, wife. I must know."
"I threatened to⊠'take the thing that he thinks with' and... I did not mean his head."
Cregan let out a bark of a laugh, throwing his head back dramatically.Â
When he came back to, his smile never left, "My little dragon of a wife. It seems you're just full of fire!"
She smiled, "Is that a bad thing?"
He pulled her closer to him, "Absolutely not." His lips brushed hers, "I'm quite fond of it."
"Good," she whispered.Â
Their lips connected in a soft kiss.
"They'll pay. I promise." Cregan said as he pulled away. "Starks don't forget oaths."
"Winter is coming. Isn't it, Cregan?"
He smiled, "Indeed, my girl."
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#cregan stark x you#cregan x reader#cregan stark x reader#cregan stark#cregan stark x y/n#game of thrones x y/n#game of thrones x reader#game of thrones imagine#game of thrones fanfiction#game of thrones#house of the dragon#house targaryen#house of the dragon fanfiction
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‷âThe Study | Coriolanus SnowâËË-
âąâŸWarning: NSFW | riding, toxic relationship, arranged marriage, mentions of cheating (no actual cheating occurs), riding, dom sub undertones, degradation (he calls you a slut once), hair pulling, edging if you squint, crying, pinv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), creampie, dry humping, clothed sex (you were still wearing a dress) | lmk if I forgot anything!
âąâŸPairing: young president! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader
âąâŸSummary: A video of you flirting with an elitist goes viral and Snow calls you to his study to confront you about it and it ends up in sexy times ;)
âąâŸA/N: btw for those who doesn't get why Snow asked reader to mark him, it's to show the Capitol that despite rumors, they are actually very close. And uhmm I hope you guys like this!
< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune >
< tags: @roryzzz @stelleduarte @strengthandstay @skywalker1dream >
The marriage was a facade, a show for the Capitol that the president didn't stand alone. The people in the manor were the only people who knew how fake the marriage was. Some of the elite of the Capitol could also tell. People can fake everything but not love, never love.
You learned early on Snow wasn't capable of love. A lover wouldn't do half of the atrocities Snow committed as he got to power but he had never done anything to you. You didn't exist for him in the manor and he was always respectful when you were by his side.
It was manageable, the life you had, nobody could mistreat you, not as the First Lady of Panem. However mistreatment and flirting are very different things, and the people of Capitol aren't a stranger to wandering hands and lustful eyes.
You didn't think Coriolanus would mind that you sometimes let the hands linger. That you would bask in the attention you were so deprived of from your husband. You were proven wrong as a video of you and an elitist was going viral all over the Capitol.
You didn't cheat on Snow, but you were too close to the stranger. His hand on your waist and your smile too wide. Cheating or not, it wasn't any less inappropriate.
A remainder by your servant made you walk to the study in which Snow spent most of his time. You were wearing a knee-length white dress, something that clings to your curves. It was a desperate, pathetic attempt to distract Snow. A part of you knew it wouldn't work and would make your mistake more obvious but it was an attempt better than none.
You knocked at the door and you could hear him say come in. So you did. Your hands are behind your back, and your eyes look at the floor like it's the most interesting thing in the world.
âDo you know what you have done?â He asked, you still couldn't look up to meet his gaze. Your fingers fumble behind your back as you bite your inner cheek. You give him a nod.
âAnd what have you done?â He questioned, his voice like the calm before the storm. âI created unnecessary gossip that isn't good for your reputation,â you mummer.
âWhat else?â He said, his tone suspicious and waiting for the confirmation. That's when you look up at the most beautiful demon you have ever seen. He looked all glorious with his suit and hair slicked back. âI didn't cheat,â you said, firmly, your eyes fierce and reflecting the truth of your words.
When Snow didn't reply, you insisted again, âI. Didn't. Cheat. It's a line I will never cross, Coriolanus.â Again, he didn't say anything, instead, his gaze went up and down your body, his expression unreadable. You flushed from his stare, not sure if wearing this dress was the right move after all. The man had always surrounded himself with those stupid white roses and this was the symbol that you had noticed.
âCome and sit.â You begin to walk towards the chair only to be interrupted by his words, âNo, not there, in my lap.â You freeze from his words, but your brain tells you to obey his every word.
You make your way to him, your heels clicking against the marble floor. Your hands are sweaty and your heart is in your throat. You reach him before you straddle him without a word being uttered. Your dress hitching up to your thighs. Your hands around his shoulders as you wait for further instructions from your husband.
âWhat do you think we should do to make the rumors go away?â He asked, his voice deep and so seductive. You weren't even sure he realized the effect his voice had on you. You let out a small gasp when his hands held your hips, cementing your place in his lap.
His hands were warm and perhaps maybe it was biased but you thought they would be ice cold. Instead, his palm laminated heat against the thin fiber of your dress making your skin warm. Your former flush turns into a deeper shade of red.
âWe couldâŠâ you couldn't focus, how could you when he was touching you like this? When he was so close. He was never this close to you before. Ever. His touch reminded you of the fact that despite everything he is a man and your husband at that. A demon in human flesh.
âWe could do more PR,â you mumbled. He raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. âI mean if we do it right, I am sure it will work,â you fumbled. He gives you a nod.
âTake off my shirt,â he demanded. Your eyes widen and you hesitate. âDo it or Iâll make you.â he threatened and you know not to take his words lightly. With shaky fingers, you unbutton his shirt. The process was slow, meticulously slow. His toned physique comes into complete view, making your breath hitch. Fuck, he was a Greek God of tragedy and sin.
âMark me up,â he said, his tone emotionless. âWhat?â you questioned, surprised. âYou think youâre acting innocent?â he sneered, âYou heard what I said, my wife. It's because of your suggestion. Mark. Me. Up.â
You swallow down your nervousness and bring your lips forward to his cheek. You pressed a soft kiss there and felt him tense underneath you. You drag your lips to his jaw and nip the skin, the tip of your tongue soothing the small teeth mark as he lets out a grunt. It was music to you. A masterpiece of symphony and you needed more, so much more. Snow had you deprived for months and it's time to take.
Your lips continue to nip at his jaw, placing sloppy wet kisses as his breaths get heavy. You moved down to his neck, a moan leaving your lips as you attacked his skin with your teeth. Sucking onto his pulse point and moaning when the salty taste of his skin hits your taste buds. Your hand goes to his neck, tilting his head to give you more access. All the while he lets out quite controlled sounds. You licked his Adam's apple before wrapping your mouth around it to suck a purple bruise. Marking him up just as he wanted.
His hand on your waist gave you a firm squeeze which made you bite harder and made him hiss. You lean back panting, as you admire your artwork of teeth marks and red love bites. You pressed down into him and moaned as his hard bulge pressed right against your clothed cunt. Your panties were soaked by now. âSnow,â you whimper.
âCorio, call me Corioâ he whispered. His eyes briefly turned to a white bouquet of roses before he met your gaze. You didn't think much of it and whispered, âCorio.â
âCorio,â you tried the name again on your tongue and watched his eyes darken. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his. âLet me kiss you. Let me make you my husband, please,â you whispered.
You waited for a verbal answer but all you got was another squeeze on your waist. You were desperate enough to take what you could get. You started by grinding against his bulge. The juices that made your panties soaked are now ruining his pants.
You let out a breathless moan as you gained delicious friction against your pussy but it wasn't enough. There's no hell and heaven for which this would be enough. You crashed your lips to his. The kiss was all carnage and desire. Uncoordinated, something so unlike Snow Corio that it made you moan into his mouth. Your hands are in his hair, pulling him closer. Your lips glide against each other perfectly. His tongue took over your mouth, not leaving any place unexplored, untouched by him.
You break the kiss with a gasp. Your hand going towards his pants to unzip. The motion stopped as Corio held your wrist and you looked up at him. âYouâre my wife, you're my right,â he said, âbut do you deserve it?â
It was more than a question, it was a promise waiting to be made, a bond waiting to be sealed. âIâŠâ you begin to speak, you meet his eyes, sea blue you wanted to drown in, âNever again, Sn- Corio. Never again.â âPlease,â you added for extra measure. You had his taste already, no one else could ever compare. He had to know that too because he gave you a sharp nod.
You get up from his lap, taking off your panties first, not bothering with the dress. You knew he liked it now, more than you thought so he would. You find your rightful place in his lap again, his pants and boxers past his knees.
His cock was hard and twitching, the length had an angry tip with its slit profusely leaking pre-cum. It looked painful and it was because of you. You. You wondered if you had power over him now for a brief second but you shake your head clear of these thoughts.
Instead, you catch his lips again, the kiss slower this time. You raise yourself a bit so his cock can align itself to your entrance. Your dress is raised to help you. Even if his cock was on the girthy side with veins on the underside of his cock. You knew your pussy would stretch around him, that your walls would be a splendid fit around his length. You were too impatient for any sort of foreplay, you wanted the stretch, you wanted him to make you dizzy with his cock splitting you apart.
You let out a whimper as you began to sink onto his cock, your eyes flicked to him and his eyes were zeroed down to the place you both were connected now. His hands are on either side of your hip, guiding you down on his length. It was after his cock was fully stuffed in you, that his self-control allowed him to let out a groan.
âI respected you like a lady but sluts don't deserve respect,â he said, his lips parted as he let out a heavy pant. You let out a whimper, your mind hazy as your cunt tries to get used to his length. âI.. am sorry,â you whine, how many times do you need to repeat? When will he be satisfied with your apology?
âProve it,â he said with a smirk, âProve that you deserve to be my wife and the First Lady of Panem.â
You follow Coriosâ command. Your hands are on his shoulders to support yourself. Your fingers fist his shirt as you begin to ride him. Raising yourself a few inches before slamming down on his cock with a loud moan escaping your lips. He reached the deepest spot inside of you like this. His cockhead grazing your spongy spot as you fucking yourself on his cock. Your arousal and his pre-cum being smeared all over your thighs.
The sight made his breath hitch, something you didn't notice as you were too busy with your eyes closed and taking his cock like a good wife. You looked completely debauched like this, your hair wild, your lips red and swollen, your hands digging into his shoulder. Your nipples are hard and obvious through the white dress.
He wasn't supposed to lose control, this was happening for a reason. No matter how many deem him God or devil in the end he was a man. And no man is perfect. He pulled you closer to him. One of his hands is on your back, pressing you to him. Another of his hands in your hair, tugging the strands without a care about how rough he is being. It makes you moan, your head on his chest now. His hips raise upwards to fuck you as he now lets out more vocal sounds of enjoyment.
His pace was slower than yours. Each thrust of his was made for his indulgence in your velvet walls. The drag of his cock was perfect, his speed however was making you feel insane. You needed him, faster, harder. Used would be a much more correct term. You wanted to be used by your husband. And right now, you were but it wasn't enough.
You let out mewls and whines to make him break his languid pace but Corio gives you no mind. His fingers interlanged in your locks, his hand still pressing you in and his strength made it so you couldn't take control. He was drunk in the pleasure your pussy gave, his head resting on his headrest, his lips parted to let out a grunt with every thrust.
You weren't a person for him, not right now, a fleshlight perhaps. It didn't matter what you felt, it mattered what Snow felt. Snow felt amazing, he felt stupid for denying himself this for months on end. He would never make the same mistake again.
Time passes and you don't know how long Corio has you like this, your nerves raw as your pussy impossibly sensitive. Tears were falling from your eyes and staining his shirt but moans slipped your lips every time he pushed in again.
âCorio, please,â you try to plead, raising your head to look at him. âPlease, please can't anymore.â He turns his head to you, his fingers that you seemed to have forgotten were in your hair tugging your strands roughly.
That was it. You gasp out as the pain becomes a trigger to make you cum on his cock, your pussy tightening around his cock like a vice as the orgasm washes over your body. It was intense and you had snapped. âSorry! Sorry!â You begin to sob, âI won't ever look at a man that's not you! Sn- Corio please!â
His languid thrust had sped up, his arms caging you to his chest. The last thing you heard before he spilled his seed inside of you was, âSnow lands on top.â
#character x reader#x reader#x female reader#fem reader#scenario#oneshot#smut#x you smut#x reader smut#x you#arranged marriage#tbosas fanfiction#tbosas#tbosas x reader#tbosas x you#tbosas smut#the ballad of songbirds and snakes movie#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#coriolanus x reader#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus snow x reader#corio snow#coriolanus snow#Coriolanus#president snow#snow x reader#thg x reader#thg fanfiction#the hunger games
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number one on the smut prompts with tyler owens đ«Łđ
Most people dreaded summer. The heat, the random thunderstorms, the seemingly endless droughts.
You craved it.
Summer meant late mornings, tangled up in the sheets. It meant watching sunsets in the bed of a truck. It meant going to rodeos and going home instead of a random motel.
It meant tornado season was done. Summer meant Tyler was back in your arms, spending time with you (aside from the research and occasional videos).
The exhaustive heat was still there. But he made it bearable.
"Just come join me," His voice is hot on your neck, his words stated between gentle nips as his fingers toyed with the hem of your denim shorts.
You giggled, trying to remain steadfast despite your thighs clenching, "Why do I feel like you don't want to shower?"
"Because I don't. I want to stay cool and spend time with my pretty girl," Tyler was so shameless, but you couldn't fault him; in fact, you loved that about him. How he was so insistent on talking to you one night after a rodeo, leading you to this very moment years later.
"Please?" How could you ever say no to those stunning green eyes?
The cold tile was refreshing, the cool water giving your heated body a much needed reprieve. Tyler's mouth was unrelenting as it alternated between your lips and your neck, his fingers quickly thrusting in and out of your soaked folds.
You had one hand tangled in his dark blonde hair, tugging on the locks in a desperate attempt to lure his lips back to yours. The other was gripping one of his broad shoulders, no doubt your fingernails creating crescent shaped marks that Boone would tease him about tomorrow.
"Think she's ready for me?" His lips ghost over yours, so close to giving you what you wanted.
You nodded, unable to speak due to how his thumb was drawing lazy circles on your clit.
He hoisted one of your legs up, pinning your knee against his hip. Upon feeling his cock enter, you tilted your head back, a deep moan echoing off the shower tiles.
The sound of skin slapping against skin was barely audible over the shower. No matter how many times you two did this dance, it still took your body some time to adjust to the sheer size of him.
Because of course he was big.
"S'fuckin tight," Tyler grunted, his Texan upbringing shining through in his words, "Every time."
You buried your face into his neck, hoping it would muffle the sounds of your pleasure soaked sobs.
He was relentless, hips all but slamming into yours, determined to push you over the edge. You learned early on that when Tyler put his mind to something, he made sure to see it through, whether it was a storm or your orgasm.
You clutched onto him for leverage, your legs shaking as he got you closer to making stars explode behind your eyes.
"That's it, c'mon pretty girl," he chuckled at the way your tight walls clenched around his cock upon hearing his special nickname for you, "Lemme feel ya. Wanna feel ya soak me."
Almost as if on command, your vision went white as pleasure shot through your body. You were yelling saying something, most likely his name as you soared through the blissful trip.
"Ah fuck, pretty girl," his hips snapped against yours once, twice, three more times before stilling, his own release quickly filling you.
The sound of the water hitting the tiles and your heavy breathing filled the room. Finally, you were the first to chuckle, breaking the ice.
"Welcome home baby," you grinned before pressing a kiss against his wet cheek.
"Welcome home, pretty girl."
#my writing#tyler owens#tyler owens x reader#glen powell#twisters fanfic#twisters 2024#tyler owens imagine#tyler owens fic
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For the touched starved scenarios maybe Logan with "hesitantly tugging the other's fabric of their shirt or sleeve, testing the waters ^^ the other notices so they pull them into a hug, smiling as they just watch them melt"?? I think it would be so cute with logan finally breaking his own barriers, reaching out to the one he adores (or*cough* is very much in love with *cough*) bc HE doesnt realize how touch starved he is and becomes slightly nervous at initiating contact at firstđ«
how it lingers
a/n: have i shoved this into the small world i made with the previous ask from this list? probably. but they're just so cute and i'm in love. plus just the fact that reader is also probably really timid to initiate contact with him physically. but logan finally reaching out for touch (cause he's so starved for it), and getting a response such. just let this man be happy and in love.
summary: when affection is coupled with pain logan learns it's not worth asking for. what does he need with it? but a difficult mission has him seeking the warmth of a lover in the arms of a friend.
word count: 0.7k
pairing: logan howlett x reader
warnings: fluff, blooming romances, the start of a relationship, soft logan.
It happens after a mission gone wrong. Tension hung thick in the air when the X-Men entered the front entrance, their suits charred and ripped, faces lined in pinched frowns that said far more than they wished. Logan hung back on the porch, smoking the cigar to appease the growing anxiety building in his chest. He'd never been a fan of the crowd this group accumulatedâespecially not when kids were involved.
But somewhere in the throng of people stood you, waiting with hope in your chest and a light in your eyes that beckoned him closer. Charles held your attention for a moment, Jean meandering over to explain in grave detail what exactly happened. You did your best to cling to every word. Even as your mind wandered to the man still stuck outsideâhis hands curled into fists and eyes shut to the rest of the world.
"We aren't sure what happened," Jean mumbled, a dazed expression glossing over her eyes. "If it wasn't for Logan wellâŠScott and I wouldn't be standing here."
The echo of his name shot through your heartâhis pain bleeding into your veins the longer you stood there listening to Jean explain what happened. He saved them. He was the hero. So why was did he remain outside? Entirely separated by the people who would happily welcome him inâthe ones he silently considered family.
"Is he hurt?" you asked hesitantly, entirely aware of his healing capabilities.
Nothing could hurt the Wolverine.
Not physically anyways.
Jean shrugged, fatigue settling over her face in a darkened cloud that might take days to pass. "He'sâŠLogan."
Which meant he was taking this time to shove away emotions he didn't want to feelâthings that would wreak havoc on his mind. He pushed down things he didn't want to feel; the parts of himself that left him with the bitter taste of fear on the back of his tongue. So he smoked to distract himself and left everything else up to the rest of the team.
He found it was easier to mull over his actions alone. Safer.
You tuned out the remainder of the conversation, eyes catching on the subtle shift of the crowd as Logan finally made his way inside. He clung to the wall in the hopes of going unnoticed. A familiar act of self preservation he often grew fond of at times like this. He never liked being the center of attentionâwhy would that change solely because of one mission?
âIâll meet you guys later.â Their responses went directly over your head, your body drawn to the man who attempted to vanish into the corner beside a plant desperate for more water.
âBub,â he greeted, arms crossed at his chestâface turned away from your welcoming smile, from the warmth you tried offering to keep the darkness at bay.
âThey said you saved them.â
He grunted, eyes flicking back to see your shoulder slump forward an inch. Barely noticeable to others in the area, but Logan clung to every slight shift of your body. Each look and half hearted smile. He tucked them into his chest in the hopes of one day wiping them away. All the stress of being a professor, of choosing to get to know a man who barely spoke more than a few words at a time.
His hand tugged at the sleeve of your cardigan softly. Barely a brush against your arm, but the grin you gave in return lit a fuse he didnât know resided at the back of his heart. Over the years he understood what connection meant. How to form them, why he should. But staying in solitude favored him best; he couldnât hurt anyone if he avoided them.
Until you offered him a smile bleeding enough warmth to soothe his aching heart.
A silent agreement passed between your eyes, loud enough to echo in the back of his mind as your arms curled around his neck. And with a blissful sigh filled with contentment, he melted into your touch, hands clasping around your backâarms tight and strong across your waist. Logan hugged you with his whole body, a swathing blanket of heat that poured out of him and enveloped you in love.
âThanks bub,â he mumbled into your shoulder, head ducked as he shifted back to the cornerâstill tightly wound around your body.
You smiled, burrowing your face in the soft leather of his jacket. âAnytime Logan.â
#this has been sitting in my drafts for too long#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett x y/n#logan howlett#my writing
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little mouse
Silco saved you in the bar a while ago. It was only fitting that you returned that favor.
content: SLIGHTLY suggestive toward the end, talk of weapons, sequel to 'the last drop', tagging a few of the people who asked for a p2, 1825 words
an: happy christmas to all who celebrate! hope you guys like this, enjoy!
â â â â â
"Hey, Mouse."
You stood up from your crouching position, placing a glass on the bar top. Sevika came in, a lit cigarette on the corner of her mouth as she let out a sigh, plopping down on one of the seats. Over the months, the two of you had became some sort of friends. Now, Sevika was a closed off person to begin with, not trusting you even one bit, but after seeing you work and defend your people, she warmed up to you. Ever since that one moment where you sneaked behind a man to steal back the bottle of booze that he had taken from the bar, she called you Mouse. Silent, but gets the job done.
"Rough day?"
The woman in front of you hummed, inhaling the smoke before turning her head, blowing it back out. Her favorite liquor was already set in a place where it was easy for you to grab. You dropped an ice cube into the glass, filling it up before pushing it her way. She thanked you, downing the entire thing as she groaned.
"Finn wants to meet with Silco today."
You raised an eyebrow, topping up her glass again before screwing the cap back on, placing it on the shelf right beside you. Some of the droplets that had spilled got neatly wiped up with your rag as you tossed it on the counter.
"What does Finn want with him?"
Sevika knew you didn't like the man either. It was something you bonded over. His exaggerated confidence annoyed the both of you, together with his lame attempts on trying to get Sevika on his side, and trying to get you in his bed. You knew not to fully piss the man off though. At least, not without Silco knowing first.
"Can trust you, can't I, Mouse?"
"Sevika," you sigh, "I quite literally cleaned blood off of the tables just so Silco wouldn't know that you beat that drunk guy up. Yes, you can."
She raised an eyebrow, the slightest smirk on her face as she sipped from her cup.
"Heard something about him wanting to overthrow Silco. Wants to be the most powerful Chembaron in Zaun."
It made you roll your eyes.
"He always bites off more than he can chew. He came to you?"
She hummed and nodded, swirling the ice cube in the glass. It made you chuckle as you glanced at the door, seeing the rest of the pub still empty.
"So he is still stupid enough to think you will betray Silco," you sighed, "Finn needs to learn to keep his mouth shut. Not only better for us, but also better for him."
"I just hope he stays away from here. I can't be here tonight - Silco has me out on a job."
You grimaced, squinting your eyes before pouring yourself a glass of water. Silco had told you that you could drink as long as you knew how to handle yourself, but you felt much more confident in being completely sober. You never knew what could happen, not in the Zaun now.
A week ago, Silco gifted you something. He said that it was because you were so good at your job, but little did you know the real reason. The man, though not doubting your skills or confidence, was⊠scared. With nothing but some glass bottles and a tea towel to defend yourself, he knew you needed something. Thieram had a gun, Sevika had her whole arm, so, for you, he found another weapon. A knife, small and thin, hidden away on your belt. You wouldn't even need to kill someone, no. That was not what he wanted. It simply gave him some peace of mind to know that if something were to happen, you would have something to defend yourself with.
"Thieram and I can keep an eye out," you winked, sipping your water, "Highly doubt you will miss anything."
The small clock next to you made you realize it was already later than you thought. Normally, Silco would have been downstairs right now, sipping a drink before the crowd would get big before disappearing into his office.
"Well, I will see you later, then. Time for Silco's drink."
"Hmm," Sevika threw her head back, gulping down the rest of her drink before wiping her mouth, "See you later, Mouse."
With a glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, you walked up the stairs, knocking on the door before you heard a 'come in'. Behind the door sat Silco, annoyed look on his face. On his desk laid a map and a lit cigar rested on the dish that Jinx had painted for him.
"Care for a drink?"
"Gladly," he groaned.
You quietly closed the door behind you, placing the gold-rimmed glass on his desk. Neither of you exchanged words, but it didn't feel necessary. The liquor splattered against the glass as you filled it up, closing the bottle again and stepping back.
"Expecting any guests?"
"Thankfully not."
"Well⊠If you need another drink, let me know."
He hummed in return, raising the glass to his lips as you left again. It seemed that in the few minutes that you were gone, the bar had filled up, and Thieram had arrived. He was busy making drinks as you greeted him with a smile, placing Silco's bottle back before pouring glasses.
Half an hour. That was how long you were able to just simply do your job. An odd character here and there trying to flirt with you before drunkenly walking off, drinks spilled, Thieram having to scold some idiots. You smiled at the woman in front of you as you handed her the drink, your gaze falling to the door behind her that opened and closed. In walked Finn, his golden jaw shimmering in the dim light. It made you raise an eyebrow - Silco wasn't expecting anyone today.
Instinctively, you looked to the booth to your left before remembering that Sevika wasn't here for the evening. But, what in the hell was Finn doing here? On his own, too. The man was nothing without at least one person by his side. You wiped the counter, your eyes following the figure as Finn walked up the stairs, disappearing from your sight.
"Thieram, I will be right back."
Your hand reached for Silco's bottle, the other one patting your hip to make sure that you had the knife with you. Maybe Finn was just there being harmless, but when has he not tried to pull some tricks? Worst case you have to pour both of them a drink. And so, after pushing yourself through the crowd, you sneaked up the stairs. No trace of Finn.
Stopping in front of the door, you paused. It was hard to hear if anything was being said as the crowd was rather loud, but you could hear the low humming of Silco's voice. Then, a louder voice, one dripping in forced confidence. You slowly opened the door, bottle held in your hands as if a weapon, before peeking in. There, Finn with a blade in his hand, standing right in front of Silco. Your boss must have been sitting down as you only saw his legs peek out from under the desk, but with Finn puffing his chest, it was hard to see anything.
Softly, you closed the door behind again, sneaking closer and closer.
"Today is the day you die, Silco."
You peeked past Finn's legs, seeing Silco sigh before putting his hand on his head. It seemed like neither men had noticed you. Finn tightened the grip on the blade, a sly smirk on his face.
"That's a risk I've known all my life."
With that, you jumped up, raising the bottle high above your head before smashing it down on Finn's cheek. He let out a surprised gasp as he stumbled to the floor, blood trickling down his eye as you slipped your knife out of the holster, holding it against Finn's neck.
"Day you die, Finn?"
Silco, who already had his hand on the holster of his pistol, looked at you confused, though he knew now was not the time. He cocked it, aiming it at Finn. The loud thuds and breaking glass seemed to catch quite some attention as Sevika burst in, metal arm nearly breaking off the door. She had just finished her job, wanting to let Silco know it was all done, stains still on her metal arm.
There, you on top of Finn with a knife to his throat, Silco with a gun aimed at the very same man, and a blade laying too far away for Finn to reach.
"Sevika, perfect moment," Silco pushed back his hair, his shoulders dropping before pointing to the man on the floor, "Surely you can take care of him?"
It seemed like all her dreams came true as she grinned. Oh, she can. She grabbed him by the neck as you stepped off of him, huffing as Sevika dragged him away. To where? You had no idea, but you did not doubt Sevika's skills.
"Well, well, well, little Mouse."
You averted your gaze back to Silco who only looked at you with what seemed to be an amused grin. He placed his gun back on his desk, one hand on his hip before gesturing.
"Quite a spectacle there. Care to explain?"
He moved one of the chairs back for you before sinking down on his own, taking a hit of his cigar. You sat on the chair in front of him, placing the blade right next to his pistol.
"I wasn't going to kill him. Don't think I could, no matter how annoying he is," you sighed, "I just⊠You said that there were no meetings today, and Finn showing up when Sevika wasn't supposed to be here seemed like much more than a mere coincidence. I didn't mean to come in without knocking, Silco."
"No," he tutted, "No apologies. I believe in loyalty more than a closed door, Mouse."
He swirled the ice around in his cup, looking at the broken glass and spilled liquor on the wooden floor.
"Such a shame we wasted this on an... idiot like Finn."
You snorted, shaking your head.
"Sorry. If it turned out he was here to make peace, then at least I could have poured you both a drink."
"You know, Mouse," Silco hummed, his fingers tracing the rim of the glass, "I never understood why you were called that. Mouse."
He placed emphasis on your nickname, glancing up at you.
"Sevika called you Mouse, and so did I. Surely there had to have been a reason for it. But now, I have seen it first hand," he nodded, "Didn't even see you sneak in. Finn surely didn't expect it."
You looked up at him, tilting your head.
"I can be quiet if I wish to."
"A handy skill indeed," hummed Silco, placing his glass on his desk, "Care to see how quiet we can be, little Mouse?"
â â â â â
tags: @nottherealamber @sevikashimmerstrap
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I Have No Shame. | Spencer Reid x GN!Reader
Synopsis: Spencer joins the Mile High Club with your help.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader
Warnings: Handjobs, semi-public sex, they get caught (sort of?), soft sub!Spencer, soft dom!Reader, Spencer being a whimpering whining mess, facials, cum eating, established relationship, pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel, honey, good boy), literally so much praise, a little bit of crying from Spencer, like one (1) use of Y/N, slight dumbification, begging
Word count: 1.5K
Notes: My first Spencer fic wow!!!! Itâs been so long since Iâve written an actual fic, I missed it so much. Anyways I hope you all enjoy! For this I imagined like s1-s4 Spence but could technically be interpreted as any season
Cross-posted on A03.
Spencer Reid was not a bold man.
In fact, he would go as far to say he was the total opposite. At least, in his personal life he certainly was. He never made the first move, always waiting for that perfect time that never came.
He didnât like taking risks. Even calculated ones were too much for him sometimes. So he stayed in his little bubble of comfort and safety. He liked it there. Sure, it might make him the subject of a bit of teasing and he missed out on a few things, but at the end of the day he still liked it there.
Until he met you.
You were everything he wasnât. Outgoing, daring, bold. In some ways, you could even be described as a bit of an adrenaline junkie. Itâs actually partly what led you to joining the FBI. You liked the thrill, the high stakes, the way it got your blood pumping when you had to chase down a criminal on the loose.Â
You lived for taking risks. The idea of never truly knowing what might happen made your spine tingle, every one of your hairs stand on. There wasnât a better feeling than feeling a little sick to your stomach with nerves and excitement for you.
It's an interesting dynamic you and Spencer had - he was all for playing it safe and keeping to himself, while you could be a wildcard. Spencer learned that very quickly after you two started dating. And while it wasnât that you were trying to change him (you would never!), you were simply opening him up to things he wouldnât have thought twice about.
Everyone else on the jet was fast asleep. Slumped over and curled up in positions that would certainly give them a knot in their neck later. Spencer had his head laid over your lap, curls sprawled across your thighs while you mindlessly twirled the strands around your fingers.Â
You were still wide awake. The rush of the case just closed still ran hot through your veins. Youâd most definitely crash later once in the sanctity of your apartment, but for now you were full of energy. You tried to distract yourself by staring out the jet window, watching the world go by, but it wasnât working.
You glanced down at the pretty boy sprawled across you like a sleeping angel and a little thought popped into your head. You shifted in your seat, sitting up straighter, before you gently threaded your fingers into Spencerâs hair. Your nails scraped across his scalp and you almost swore you could have heard a little purr rumble in his chest.
You leaned over him, breathing slowly in vain attempt to settle your already racing heart. âSpence,â you crooned softly. âSpencer, wake up, baby.â Once Spencer actually fell asleep, he was a fairly light sleeper. It didnât take much before he was stirring awake with a quiet groan.
âWhat is it?â he asked, voice thick with sleep. His hands raised to rub at his eyes and you could only smile. âDid we land?â
âNo,â you said a little too quickly, âNo, I just..â You trailed off a little as your teeth sunk down on your bottom lip. âI had an idea.â You stood to your feet and offered your hand out to him. He quirked an eyebrow, glancing between your face and outstretched hand, before slowly placing his in your grasp.
There was a little bit of a bounce in your steps as you led him in the direction of the bathroom and in that moment, Spencer regretted agreeing to whatever you were about to do. He squeezed your hand and you tossed  him a smile that reeked of mischief over your shoulder.
It was a tight squeeze once inside. Because, like most airplane bathrooms, it was meant to only fit one person at a time. That didnât stop a lot of people, though. And you were one of them.
You crashed your lips against his the minute the door locked behind the two of you. It was hot, full of passion and lust as your hands roamed over his body. He whimpered softly against your lips before relaxing into the kiss. His hands were warm and broad against your body, sending shivers down your spine.
You didnât waste time when you wanted something, and you wanted him right here and now. Your hands drifted until they hit their target - his belt. You broke for air, panting heavy and hard, as you tried to make quick work of shedding the layers between you and his dick.
âY/N-â he gasped. âWait, wait-â He took hold of your wrists, halting your movements. His eyebrows pinched together and his bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly. âWhat if we get caught?â
You grinned at him. âWell, I guess youâll just have to be quiet so we wonât.â You knew just how much of a struggle it was for Spencer to keep himself under control when he was feeling good. The noise complaints from your neighbors were proof enough.Â
Your hand dipped into his pants and underwear and you tried to suppress the smirk that threatened to spread over your face when you wrapped your fingers for his half-hard cock. He gasped, but quickly slapped a hand over his mouth when you shot him a look.
His eyes rolled back as you began to stroke along his length. Your thumb brushed over the tip, smearing the pre-cum gathering and Spencerâs knees buckled. Your pace was slow, almost languid, teasing.
âPlease,â Spencer whined. You grinned once more.
âPlease what?â you murmured. You leaned even closer to him, somehow, hovering over his lips. You were both breathing heavily and practically sharing breaths. You took a moment to look over his adorably flushed face. âYouâre so pretty, Spence..â
âPlease.â He wasnât even sure what he was begging for, pleasure clouding his usually bright mind. âPlease, please, pl-ease.â His voice cracked when you sped up, his head lulling back. âF-feels so good, oh god.â
You cooed at the state of him. âWhatâs wrong, sweetheart?â Faux pity coated your words, making Spencer whine again. âCome on, use your words, honey. I canât read minds.â You snickered.
His hand jumped to grab your wrist, not to stop you, no. He was too far gone to stop you now. He simply held it there, keeping a tight grip on you as you jerked his cock.Â
He looked like a total mess. An absolutely stunning mess, but a mess nonetheless. Curls sticking to his forehead and cheeks, plush lips parted in soft moans, eyes squeezed tight, face flushed shades of red. His hips arched into your touch, cock twitching in your hold.
âAre you gonna cum?â you asked and he nodded frantically. His lips twitched into a soft frown as tears began to well in his big brown eyes. God, he always the prettiest he was all dumb and fucked out. âGood boy,â you crooned at him.
You dropped down to your knees. You finally freed his dick from the confines of his underwear and he hissed at the feeling of the cold air. You didnât waste a moment to resume your ministrations.
âLook at me, Spencer,â you commanded and he immediately followed the order. He nearly lost it at the sight of you on your knees before him. âGood boy, thatâs it..â You picked up the pace even further, hand almost a blur stroking him.
âIâm- Iâm gonna-â he stumbled over his words, unable to even form proper words as the pleasure grew. You shook your head.
âDo it, Spence,â you commanded again. âYou can do it. Cum all over my face, pretty boy.â And thatâs all it took for Spencer to tumble right over the edge. He tightened his grip on your wrist, back arching as he spilled over your face in thick spurts.
You worked him through his orgasm, stroking slow and gently, until he began to whine from overstimulation. You slowly rose to your feet and Spencer was already offering you paper towels to clean yourself. You ran a finger through one of the streaks of cum on your face and brought it to your lips, eyes fluttering shut and soft groans escaping you as you tasted him.
When you opened your eyes again, he was beet-red and looking oh-so shy and cute. You giggled. You gladly took the paper towels and began to wipe away the remnants of his cum.
You connected your lips in a chaste kiss when you were finished, making him blush even more. âYou did such a good job, angel,â you praised before pressing another kiss to his lips. He tucked himself back into his jeans and buckled them back up. You entangled your fingers together, leading him out of the bathroom.
You made your way back to your seats, a sense of satisfaction settled in your chest. âReid?â The call of your boyfriendâs name had you both glancing back to see Hotch awake in one of the jet chairs. âDonât do that againâ
Heat washed over both of your cheeks and you had to slap a hand over your mouth to hide the growing smile on your lips. âYes, sir,â Spencer said with a nod of his head.
At least you had fun.
#spencer reid scenario#criminalminds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fandom#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#sub spencer reid#sub spencer#spencer reid x fanfiction#spencer reid smut#criminal minds x you#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfiction#Spotify
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â I THINK I⊠⥠â
â Ëăâàšà§Ë when they realize theyâre in love with you
feat. oliver aiku, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, kunigami rensuke, mikage reo
cw + tw. fluff, some angst, fem!reader, aged-up!characters, pro-player!characters, friends to lovers + established relationships, pet names, (!!!)attempted assault (in kunigamiâs scenario, but heâs obviously not the assailant), alcohol usage (in oliverâs), maximum self-indulgence
notes. jdjsjsn this is kind of all over the place but i just wanted to word dump some cute scenarios and headcanons
OLIVER AIKU
honestly, heâd get kind of scared. and not in an appalled way like, âpsh, iâm oliver aiku! i can get any woman i want so why should i only care about this one person?!â
no, itâs because heâs fully aware of his disloyal and womanizing past that heâs afraid of this. heâs afraid heâll end up hurting youâthe one person he truly cares aboutâand he believes you donât deserve that.
you deserve so much better than a douchebag like him.
he keeps that growing pit of adoration to himself and carries on with his life as always, but that can only do so much when heâs so clearly infatuated with you.
the most he lets himself do is tag along on your night out at clubs. however, he doesnât drink a lick of alcohol. he needs to be sober to take care of you in case you get too wild out there to do so yourself. while heâs there though he talks to a few of the women flocking around, entertains them a bit, maybe as a feeble attempt to get you off his mind and forget about the jealousy rooted deep inside him when too many guys check you out and ask for a dance. but nowadays, he can never find it in himself to take any of these women home. thatâs how deep his affections for you have run.
at one point during the night, you approach him with one too many drinks in your system, evident by your wobbly steps and the carefree grin plastered on your face.
âoli~! why donâ yer dance wit me?!â you slur, nearly toppling in front of him if not for oliver dashing forward to stop you from falling on your face.
âi think youâve had one too many drinks, sweetheart,â he chides. after that heâs draping his large coat over your bare shoulders and leading you back to his car to get you home, while ignoring all the pouty women on his way out.
you object to leaving at first, droning about how the night is still young, but oliver is persistent in getting you home safe and sound. eventually, you doze off in the passenger seat while heâs driving. when he parks in front of your apartment complex, he carries you all the way up to your door, fishes out your keys from your clutch, and finally gets you into bed.
he lingers a little bit longer to make sure youâre all settled and if you need his help with anything, but once the buzz in your system has fizzled and your eyes are fully lidded, oliver assumes youâre out like a light. that is, until heâs sitting at your bedside and he hears the faintest murmur from your lips.
âlove you⊠oliverâŠâ is what comes out in a lovely daze and he almost wants to deny he heard it for both yours and his sake, but all he can do is muster a smile, ghosting a hand along your cheek, and say while youâre blissfully unaware,
âlove you too, sweetheart.â
ITOSHI RIN
lowkey annoyed over this because instead of soccer plaguing his mind 24/7, his thoughts are now overrun by you! so he ignores the feeling, thinking it will magically go away or something. but newsflash to rin: itâs not as simple as it looks, and he ends up learning that lesson the hard way.
he spends the next week evading youâdeclining invites to hang out, sending half-hearted text messages, and ingraining himself in his soccer practices. unfortunately for him, his performance actually gets worse because now all those feelings heâs been bottling up inside his fragile heart are about to burst.
even shidou has been scoring more than him and rin just canât live that down, especially when the former asks if the reason heâs been doing so poorly is because he and his âlittle girlfriendâ broke up. which isnât even the case since youâve both never crossed that bridge.
poor boy goes home one day conflicted over all of this, slouched on the edge of his bed with his hands ruffled in his hair. soon he gets a text from you, which he shouldnât be surprised by, given how heâs been treating you lately.
but then youâre asking him if heâs okay and rin is utterly taken aback because heâs been acting like such an asshole, yet youâre the one thatâs still worried about his well-being.
right then and there rin has a long moment of contemplation, breathing a sigh into his hand which clasps over his mouth. he replies back with a quick apology text before telling you to meet him after his practice tomorrow. the moment he hits send, he tosses his phone on the bed, not willing to wait for that hovering gray bubble to appear on the message window.
when tomorrow arrives and practice is over, his steps are dragging along the pavement outside the training facility. heâs honestly doubting if youâll even show up, but those qualms are immediately dashed when he sees your figure a few distances away. youâre standing there with apprehension written on your features, which morph into worry as soon as you cross eyes with him.
rin canât even get a word in or form a coherent thought because the moment you run up to him, youâre blabbering about how he didnât have to apologize because he was probably working so hard on soccer, chasing his dreams and the like. then, you bring up how maybe you should continue distancing yourself in order to help him focus, and god, that flicks a switch in rinâs head because that is far from what he wants.
all of a sudden, heâs silencing you as he pulls you into his chest. you find yourself buried in his jersey, confused but not drifting away, and even return the embrace when you sense him shake against you.
âfuck, no. i donât want that allâŠâ his voice sounds like heâs about to break as he mutters those words into your hair. his arms tighten around your shoulders as if youâll leave him at any moment. you assure him you wonât as you nuzzle closer into his chest.
âthen iâm not going anywhere, rin.â
NAGI SEISHIRO
the thought comes upon him when heâs alone in his apartment. itâs not immediate though.
the sunlight seeping through the curtains inevitably wakes him up one very late morning. and by very late, i mean this dozy boy definitely slept in that day, if he couldnât already tell from his digital clock reading 11am.
even though nagi is always keen on getting plenty of shut-eye, heâs constantly kept on his toes when it comes to having a productive sleep schedule. partially due to soccer practices, but also because you sometimes visit him in the mornings. so normally, heâs woken by the ruckus youâre making while cooking him breakfast in the kitchen.
but this morning itâs⊠silent. which in hindsight, nagi should be happy about, right? he got to sleep in, after all, and he doesnât have practice today. what more could he want?
once he shakes off the last remnants of sleep from his body, he finally musters the strength to get out of bed and maybe start his day with something to eat. which this morning is⊠leftovers. specifically the leftovers from the last time you made him foodâa couple days ago.
regardless, he warms them up and sits down with a plate on the table. says his appreciations for the meal and digs in. when the first bite enters his mouth, it tastes the same as when he initially had it, but thereâs an empty feeling in the bottom of his stomach he canât quite pinpoint. he scarfs down a few more spoonfuls until he grows tired of eating, resting his head on the table.
his tummy is full, yet that emptiness persistsâitâs been on the forefront of his mind for several days now and itâs starting to annoy him. he canât determine why that is and what makes those days any different from before succumbing to that void in his heart.
after all, nothings changed.
just that⊠you went on an overseas trip. without him.
well, itâs not like he was ever going to be invited since youâre supposed to be vacationing with your girlfriends.
ah, wait. maybe heâs just lonely.
no, that canât be it. he hung out with reo and some of the other blue lock boys the day after you left. even a slacker like him still makes time to see his friends. so what is he missing here?
the question lingers in nagiâs noggin as he drags his fork along the remaining food stuck on his plate. at some point, his phoneâs ringing breaks him from his stupor, and heâs surprised to glance over and see your caller id on the screen.
heâs not sure what comes over him, but nagi swears heâs never hit the accept button so fast in his life. immediately, he brings the phone next to his ear, and is the first one on the line to utter âhello?â
âsei, youâre awake! iâm glad i got the time zones right!â you exclaim in your cheery tone that nagi has always been accustomed to hearing in the morning. âyâsee iâve stumbled on a gift shop the other day and found a few souvenirs iâd think youâd like!â
you ramble on and on about your adventures around the country youâre visiting and nagi finds himself absorbing your voice, hanging on every word, and even nodding next to the phone like youâre right here in front of him.
suddenly, his heart feels so full and everything clicks into place again. itâs like his day never actually started until you appeared with all your mirth and energy. even on opposite sides of the earth, youâre still the sun to his moon.
âangel,â he murmurs as youâre in the middle of talking, and youâre silent after acknowledging his call, waiting on his words.
âcome home soon. i miss you.â
ISAGI YOICHI
this boy is a mess! heâs the kind of guy who as soon as those feelings start blooming in his chest, he gets super flustered around you all the time. and itâs obvious too.
before, he was super nonchalant with you. treated you like a friend, flirted without even knowing because heâs just that comfortable around you, but when any of his friends or family mention how the two seem closer than you realize, he just freezes and his mind goes blank. erupts in an embarrassing fit of sputtering and denial, face searing red down to the nape of his neck. itâs so cute.
however, heâs not fooling anybody! anyone can tell by the windblown expression on his faceâstarstruck eyes admiring you as a warm grin overtakes his featuresâthat heâs absolutely smitten by you. he just needs to admit it already.
well, his next outing with you (in which he swears wasnât actually a date, but câmon isagi), finally gets him to come to terms with his emotions as he reminisces spending the whole day just laughing his heart out and being so full of that warmth and happiness you give him that makes him feel completely weightless. almost like he can do anything. afterward, when he gets home, he rushes upstairs and literally flails in his bed with the most insane blush on his cheeks. like wow, heâs in love with you.
isagi yoichi is in love with you.
but love to isagi is like a double-edged sword, especially to someone who just escaped that blue lock hellhole and now has to devote even more of his life to his soccer career.
with that carefree sensation comes a new box of trepidations that heâs afraid to open.
what if there comes a time when he would have to choose between you or soccer? heâs hoping that wonât ever be the case. heâd hate to struggle juggling the two and end up breaking your heart.
god, never in a million years does he want that.
the best he can do is take steps to introduce this side of his life to you. he does so in extravagant fashion, by inviting you to come watch him play during his championship game.
to say you were a little startled by his offer was an understatement, but you take him up on it, and promise youâll be there, especially since isagi went out of his way to get you the best seats in the stadium.
on the day of his match, heâs more nervous about performing well in front of you rather than winning. winning is instinct for him so he has no doubts heâll claim victory and take home the championship cup. heâs just eager to show you a new isagi youâve never seen before, rather than the tongue-tied, flustered puppy isagi thatâs been vying for your attention lately.
coming onto the field, his eyes are too busy swerving in the direction of where youâre seated than focus on his opponents. the moment he distinguishes your figure at the very front of the standsâdraped in a jersey that reads his nameâcountless butterflies begin fluttering in his stomach. itâs a feeling that he can never truly convey into words.
all he does is let an elated grin spread wide on his lips, cheeks swathed in such a dainty shade of rose that has his teammates swatting the back of his head to remind him he has a very important game to win.
and oh does isagi win. during the match he scores four goals in quick succession, absolutely annihilating the other team to the point where itâs downright embarrassing for the opposing side. the commentators are completely baffled, questioning what has the player so stoked. little do they realize that each of those goals were all made in your name and isagi canât wait to let you know that later with his championship cup in hand.
ITOSHI SAE
sae is pretty accepting of this revelation. nothing really fazes him after all, and he recognizes that it was only a matter of time before he came to terms with the idea that he might be head over heels for you.
in fact, he takes those feelings in stride.
as if sae wasnât already a gentleman before this, his mannerisms around you only intensify. heâs constantly holding the door open for you, pulling out your chair, giving you his jacket whenever youâre cold, and so on. you never have to lift a finger when youâre with him. itâs to the point where heâs even sweeping stray hairs off your face and tucking them behind your ear before youâre given a chance to realize they were bothering you in the first place. not a day goes by where he doesnât place you on a pedestal and worship you in the best ways he knows how.
heâs also gotten very touchy and a tiny bit possessive (okay maybe more than a tiny bit). sae isnât the type to initiate pda regularly, but whenever he feels threatened in any wayâwhich is very rare but not impossibleâhe always has a hand on you. whether itâs on your lower back as he ushers you closer to him, or intertwining your fingers together before sending a cold, piercing glare over his shoulder at the offending party, he always makes his intentions with you known even if you yourself are oblivious of them.
itâs not like heâs controlling or obsessive either. he simply wants to make you feel special. to be frank, heâs setting such a high standard that no other man can compare to him.
on more than one occasion, heâs had to travel overseas for international business, and the first time he left the country for an extended period without you, he grew incredibly homesick. not because he particularly misses the normalcy of his life back in japan, but because it always feels a little empty, and frankly, boring without you by his side. heâs grown to appreciate the moments he shares with you, from the time he wakes up beside you to when he falls asleep while youâre in his arms.
after that, whenever he has to fly out of the country, he insists you tag along with him, and goes out of his way to pay for all your expensesâplane ticket, lodgings, everything. most of the time, you try turning down his offer, stating you donât want to be a hindrance while heâs working. yet sae counters by saying itâll be more trouble for him if you werenât there with him than not, and who are you to object when heâs staring at you with such unwavering ocean eyes, looking as if youâre the whole world to him.
KUNIGAMI RENSUKE
deep down, kunigami has always held you closely in his heart, regardless if heâs aware of the love he possesses behind it.
itâs natural for him to want to protect the people he cherishes, but with you, you activate something so visceral inside him. it scares him sometimes, how you can make his whole body rattle, blood pumping erratically to the point where all he can hear is the ringing in his ears and his heart thumping wildly out of his chest.
thatâs especially the case when he receives a late night call from you while heâs settling himself at his apartment. heâs slightly surprised by the random call. you donât normally reach out for him at this time since youâre either going to sleep or hanging out with friends in the dormant hours of the night.
accepting the call, he brings the phone to his ear.
âhello? y/n?â
âr-ren? u-um, can you please stay on the phone with me..?â you whisper in the receiver, tone quivering to a frightening degree. he hears the anxiety laced in your voice and suddenly sirens go off in his head.
âwhere are you?â he questions sternly as he instantly stands from his seat, reaching for his car keys.
âi just left a club and was going to walk to the station, but⊠s-someoneâsââ
kunigami doesnât need to hear anymore to understand the full picture that makes his bones quake for your safety as he dashes out the door.
âiâm coming to get you, so send me your location. until then, stay in an open area and donât stop talking to me, okay?â
you affirm quietly before moving your phone from your ear to pin your location to him with trembling fingers. as youâre doing so, kunigamiâs already started the ignition to his car, revving on the roads with little care of the law. heâs never driven this fast in his life, swearing heâs a defensive driver, but that means nothing to him when your safety is on the line right now.
if he grips his steering wheel any harder, it might just break off from his bare strength alone. a single glance at the map on his dash tells him heâs less than a minute away from your position. in the last stretch, he can finally spot your frightened silhouette under the dimly lit lamps.
as soon as you recognize the model of his vehicle, relief washes over your tense shoulders. you take it as your chance to escape your precarious situation, but the shady man a few meters away decides to attempt a last minute assault, dashing in your direction.
when the fiery-haired athlete sees this, his restraint all but snaps. he gets out of his car without even slamming his door shut and spontaneously reaches for you, pulling you behind his intimidating, brawny frame before punching the man square in the jaw. the assailant tumbles onto the hard ground, completely knocked out.
kunigamiâs attention immediately turns to you, putting all his efforts into your well-being as he yanks you in his protective embrace. the adrenaline from both your bodies wears off and the striker can sense you bursting into tears against his chest.
âren, iâm so sorry, i was out with friends and i thought it would okay for me to stay out later even though they wanted to leave, and-andââ your words collide with your jumbled thoughts, but the last thing kunigami wants is for you to apologize for this scumbagâs actions.
âshh, princess. itâs not your fault,â he whispers next to your ear, âfuck! if anything happened to you⊠i⊠iâŠâ his voice breaks apart. his hold on you tightens just imagining if he was even a second late coming to your side. for now, heâs thankful to have you back safe and sound, tucking you closer to his heart.
MIKAGE REO
when reo considers that what he was feeling might no longer be a crush, but rather actual love for you, heâs a bit doubtful. mostly because heâs approached countless girls with romantic intentions in mind, however, to his disappointment, heâll discover that theyâre mainly interested in his status instead of him as a person. his good looks and charisma are just a plus for them. therefore heâs very hesitant to fully act on these emotions, afraid to have his heart broken again.
however, he slowly starts accepting the notion that he might be wrong about you. it shows in the way youâre always asking about his life outside of him being an heir to a billion-dollar corporation. heâs stunned by how your features can glow with such intrigue whenever he speaks about his time in blue lock, leading to his journey to becoming a star player in the land of professional football. most girls he entertained would fake interest in this before quickly changing the subject.
eventually, theyâll throw themselves on him to garner his favor and try gaining access to his parentsâ wealth. however, you seek greater value in sharing the same experiences with him. you take him out to watch movies, hangout at the most unique cafes, and have the time of your lives at amusement parks.
reoâs used to his dates borderline demanding him to drive them out for extensive shopping sprees or book them dinners to the most high-end restaurants in the city. it becomes exhausting when all his partner sees in him is a personal wallet for them to call on whenever theyâre eyeing the newest luxury trends displayed on shop windows.
so to have a person like you by his side, who doesnât determine his value on such materialistic facets is⊠refreshing⊠but also just as frightening because heâs afraid of losing such a precious person like you.
though it may be counterintuitive, reo means to return your kindness by spoiling you, thinking youâre someone who genuinely deserves to be dolled up and treated like royalty.
the first time reo swipes his card on a hefty purchase for you, youâre a little bit overwhelmed, going on to say he didnât have to do all this. but the man is difficult to argue around, what with his suave words and charismatic demeanor that makes it hard for you to say no to the jewels and dresses he wants to adorn on your body.
then as if he couldnât have pampered you anymore, he also brings up the offer for you move into his penthouse so you donât have to worry about rent while making ends meet. of course, you bring up the case that you donât want to rely on him for moneyâthat you simply enjoy being with himâbut reo counters with similar reasoning.
âcâmon doll, just let me do this for you,â he insists. âyouâve done so much for me already, and i just want to make sure you know how special you are to me.â
copyright 2023 shotoh, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated anywhere else so please do not repost this or share my content on tiktok.
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