#it's so real though so please see my vision actually | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hannieween · 3 months ago

Text

playing dumb | yoon jeonghan

› pairings: yoon jeonghan x female reader › aus: loser jeonghan, grad student jeonghan, grad student reader › genres: fluff, smut (18+) › word count: 6.6k

› 🎧easy – jaehyun | cream soda – exo (lol) | feeling lucky – bibi

› this one shot is part of my hannieween fest/kinktober special!

› warnings after the cut! READ THEM CAREFULLY 🗣️

› warnings: smut with little to no plot, dom reader, sub jeonghan, jeonghan is a little pervy, oral fixation, big cock jeonghan, jeonghan is a little bit inexperienced in sex, oral sex, hand job, use of sex toys (cock ring), overstimulation, dacryphilia, early ejaculation, cumming on skin, a bit of hair pulling, dirty talk, a little bit of humiliation kink again, a little bit of praise kink, corruption kink, slight exhibitionism. pet names: pretty boy, baby boy (his) baby (hers)

› acknowledgements: @kwanisms @cheolism @whipped-for-kpop-fics, @junekissed for helping me come up with ideas for this fic, and terminology bits, thank you. i couldn't have done it without u. i love you 🩵

› disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

JEONGHAN LIFTED HIS ARM IN THE AIR, LETTING OUT A QUIET GRUNT.

“Yes, do you have a question?” the professor asked, seeing his arm in the crowd of people listening to her lecture.

Jeonghan finished yawning, shaking his head. “Just stretching.”

A stillness blanketed the room as your fellow classmates bore their eyes into the man sitting next to you. Shaking your head, you tried hard not to roll your eyes at his lack of correctness, or self-awareness.

Professor Blackwood resumed her lecture, unbothered by the small interruption. Granted, in her years of experience, a restless student like Jeonghan might be inconsequential.

But he was puzzling to you. One look around the room would be sufficient to determine that he was the one standing out from the students sitting in the sloped tiers of the lecture hall.

It was not only his attire, a pastel pink hoodie, gray sweatpants, and a pair of worn white sneakers. But his attitude… his attitude was your biggest gripe with him. While everyone was immersed in the lecture, writing down notes on their tablets or computers, he was absentmindedly toying with the string of his hoodie.

Sometimes, he would shift in his seat, letting out a loud cough that broke the stiltedness of the lecture, or would make the most out of the ordinary question to the professor, causing a pause.

You could tell out of the corner of your eye that he was bored, crossing one ankle on his knee, he had started to shake his foot.

You could have sworn you hated him at that moment, but the lecture was boring if you dared admit it. As much as you had wanted to listen to the lecture, compiling notes and questions for it, it had dragged on.

For one thing, political language in works of fiction wasn't something you had much interest in delving into, so it had been a real disappointment for you to learn that it was boring.

Jeonghan shifted on his seat again, sighing through his nose. He could just get up and leave. But he never did. Part of you believed that he was just too much of a pretentious guy to actually leave, as though he did not want to miss the opportunity to be the most annoying person in the room.

You found yourself sighing too out of boredom, making Jeonghan stir on his seat and direct a quick glance at you. You did not need to use your peripheral vision to know that he was smiling to himself, the quiet exhale told you that much.

“Now moving on to Foucault’s discourse on Orwell’s 1984…” The professor changed slides of the presentation for the third time in the one hour you had been listening and something in you twisted in great annoyance, but you did not let it show.

Jeonghan however had resorted to creating shapeless doodles on the margins of the book splayed on the table. The book was so tattered and beaten that you could not believe it was brand new just a week ago when Jeonghan brought it with him. You had seen him remove the plastic from its shiny cover to proceed then to crack and bend the spine like it was his sworn enemy.

The little or no attention he paid to the books he acquired for the courses was irritating. He would scribble on the pages, underline paragraphs with whatever pen he could get his hands on, and bend the corners of the pages so he would not miss the last one he read. On one occasion, you saw him tear out the first few pages of a book he was reading and then make little paper airplanes.

Even if he wore a different ridiculously oversized hoodie every day, his attitude would catch the attention of anyone who looked around. The rest of the people sitting in the lecture had a different behavior. While everyone, including you, was prim and proper, he was just plain laid back always.

So, why did you have a bone to pick with him? Well, despite his evident boredom, he was top of the class. And you were a little bit of an overachiever. Not only that, ever since Jeonghan discovered how easy it is to get under your skin, he has done it constantly, like it is his favorite pastime.

Jeonghan knew how to get under your skin, and also on it.

You smoothed your hands over your lap, your fingertips brushing at the hem of your pencil skirt. Suddenly, your seat started to grow hot, not quite literally, no. This was a feeling purely set by the thought of Jeonghan being on your skin, just like he was last Friday night.

Jeonghan saw the motion of your hands, your skirt hiked up on your thighs, giving him a view of your skin. He subconsciously stuck a pen between his lips, and you saw the pink tip of his wet tongue, making you press your thighs together. When that did not work, you crossed one leg over, pressing as hard as you could.

The skirt inched up on your thighs. There was a sparkle in his eyes, he was sure your focus was on him now. Memories mixed with fantasies flew inside your head, making it impossible to resume listening to the lecture, now you were lost in wanting, in the need to recreate what you had done on impulse a few nights before.

Jeonghan shifted on his seat, spreading his legs a little. Your eyes widened slightly, the air leaving your lungs upon getting a clear sight of the outline of his growing erection peaking on the gray sweats he wore.

You bit your bottom lip in an attempt to pull yourself together, but instead, your fingers itched to reach out and grab him.

He stilled, reading your body language. For a minute you wondered if he believed you to be capable of grabbing him under the desk and jerking him off in the middle of the lecture. As he pushed his hips forward slightly, you saw how hard he was, his boner leaning on his thigh. He was thinking of the same thing you were.

Now, Jeonghan does not know what got into you that night, but he is thankful as fuck that something did.

Closing your eyes, you exhaled softly through your nose. You hated him. You hated that he knew how to get your attention, whether it was with his stupid behavior during class, or tempting you to tell him to repeat what happened that Friday night.

That Friday night.

All you had to do was film a video for a paired task.

Somehow, everyone had already been paired when you went out looking for any potential partners to do the task. “I’m up for it if you don’t find anyone,” Jeonghan had said timidly.

There was nothing more to his offer, and he was the best in the class, so you thought it could be an opportunity to finally put those unconformities you had with him to rest.

Except that, your little attempt at doing the task failed miserably by a long shot.

It never crossed your mind that you would ever get to see his place. A very simple studio, with everything necessary, but it still looked very minimalist, except for the corner where there were stacks of books against the wall, rising up almost to your height.

You wished to say that one thing led to the other. But you did not know what was going through your head when you gave him a kiss.

Jeonghan was sitting on the floor, trying to read from the set of prompts you had prepared beforehand to make things quicker and finish your paired task. Around him on the floor laid the pages of his copy of Frankenstein, which he had mutilated because it helped him find his notes easier.

This is the guy who practically steals the top-grade award every semester. If he went to another program, you would get those awards.

While Jeonghan’s book remained scattered on the floor, your own Frankenstein copy sat on your lap. It was a hardback, and the only modifications it had suffered were adhesive notes sticking to the corners where you had made note of all the important stuff.

You leaned over on the floor, pretending to take a look at the pages sitting beside his legs. He stole glances at you, thinking that you were perhaps looking elsewhere, at your phone, or your nails like you sometimes do during class.

But no, you were pensively outlining the features of his face. Jeonghan had a thing for biting his bottom lip or pushing his tongue on it. There was a beauty mark adorning his cheek daintily. The heavy set of eyelashes made you envy him a little, but the bitter feeling would fade every time his eyes found yours.

Jeonghan was truly one of the most beautiful people you have ever seen. He used his fingers to tuck a rebellious strand of hair behind his ear, stealing another glance at you. He was nervous, you could tell from the way his breath sounded shaky as he let out another exhale through his nose.

You have seen him play with his tongue a lot before. Besides constantly licking his lips, he tends to stick the tip of his pen between his lips, keeping the tip of his tongue pushed out between his teeth. It was distracting, but not for the right reasons.

Sometimes, your mind would wander during class with thoughts about the places you would want to feel that tongue. Other times, when he fidgeted a lot with his hands, you would think about his fingers, his knuckles brushing against places you wanted him to feel.

“Jeonghan,” you blurted, commanding his eyes to you as you leaned over to him, knowing that would give more access to his gaze to wander over your cleavage. “I know you’re not reading that, look at me.”

The intrigue in his eyes was also nearly palpable in the room. Part of you could not really believe what you were about to do, you wondered for how long you had felt like this for Jeonghan. You were about to find out.

“What?” he frowned slightly, his gaze trying to read you but getting no clarity. The tips of his ears were red, and you noticed then, they got red whenever he talked to you. Or any girl for that matter.

“Look at me,” you repeated, but his eyes were already on you, trying to figure you out. There was something about him, maybe it was the stupid clothes he wore, or that he got a nervous stutter whenever you were near him.

Maybe it was the fact that you found it cute that he refused to wear his glasses to school, forced to squint at the board every time. Or that you thought it adorable to find out that behind him he had a collection of mini figurines on his desk.

The truth was, there was something about Yoon Jeonghan. Maybe it was the ridiculous yellow hoodie he was wearing that night, or that he got nervous every time you went near him.

Jeonghan was a loser. And you kind of liked that about him.

“Do you want to fuck?”

His pretty eyes widened in shock, but he tried to mask it off quickly, blinking a couple of times without looking anywhere else but your face. “What?” he asked quietly and very slowly, as if he was not sure of what he heard, of having hallucinated what you said.

“Do you want to fuck?” you repeated, dragging out the words for him with a small cooing tone. As you said each word, his gaze went over the features of your face, his eyes widening once again when you finished uttering the question.

“Wh-what about the assignment?” he stuttered, visibly trying to keep his cool.

“I’m bored. And we could finish it later,” you shrugged slightly, putting on your best confident face. Part of you found it cute that his first instinct was to ask about the assignment, and not why you wanted to fuck him all of a sudden.

Jeonghan paused to ponder, and you could see on his face that the gears in his brain had begun to turn. “Are you kidding me?” he stuttered, licking his lips anxiously. “Is this some sort of trick?”

You replied by giving him a soft smile, tilting your head to one side. “Sit on the bed,” you whispered, close enough to his face that you could see each of his individual lashes.

At the sound of your command, Jeonghan could not resist himself any further. Whatever protest he had thought, he brushed them all away with a blink of his pretty eyes. He rose to his feet, turned away and sat on the bed, his hands placed neatly on his lap.

Now it was your turn to contemplate him for a second. “How would I be tricking you?” you mused, getting to your feet to stand in front of him.

He raised his gaze to meet yours, his mouth parting slightly as he swallowed nervously. “I-I don’t know, I…” he blinked slowly, smiling in pure shyness at his own stuttering. “Why would you want to f-fuck me?”

“Mm,” you hummed, inching closer to him so you could reach out and hold his face. “Like I said I’m bored,” you mumbled, bringing up a finger to touch the tip of his nose. “And you, Jeonghan, are terribly skittish… it’s nagging.”

“Sorry,” he said hoarsely, clearing his throat, blinking repeatedly as you dragged the pad of your finger to caress his cheek. “I-I still don’t get why-,”

“Don’t play coy, Jeonghan, it doesn’t suit you,” you smirked, enjoying the way he trembled beneath the tip of your finger. “I think you’re cute.”

“Cute?” he chuckled dryly, his gaze falling far in the room as if he were directing it to an imaginary camera behind you in sheer incredulity. “What the fuck?”

But his eyes found your face again when you sunk your fingers, threading his long dark hair from the crown of his head and then back. “I can’t really ignore the way you’ve been staring at my tits, Jeonghan, and I am in a bit of a giving mood.”

“Oh god,” he mouthed, shaking as his hands clutched the bedcovers beneath him. “Wh-what—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look-,”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off with a low coo. “You can stare, Hannie. In fact, tonight you can do more than that.”

“Wh-what?” he repeated slowly. “More?”

You nodded, smiling gently at the confusion plastered on his face. Driving that confusion deeper, your fingers coiled in his hair, giving a tug. “Do you want to kiss me, Jeonghan?”

His eyes immediately traveled to your lips, giving you a small nod with his head. “Yeah, I do,” he said faintly.

You smirked, trying to mask your own nervousness. “Don’t move,” you whispered, looking at his eyes and then his lips before dipping your head to meet his mouth with your own.

As you had intuited before: he was a good kisser. The slow and gentle pressing of your lips against his was matched in an instant in the same manner. Helping yourself with your hands on his hair, you tilted his head back, hugging his lips with your own in a deeper kiss. He hummed, which led you to think that he liked that.

“That was good,” you mumbled, pulling back to see his dark eyes glimmering.

You stopped cradling his head with your hands, taking them to your chest where you slowly started to undo each button of your dress shirt. His eyes followed your fingers as they trailed further down, your shirt parting to show your white lace bra.

“Oh, look at you,” you mumbled mockingly. “Hard already. Just by seeing my bra?”

Jeonghan shifted on his bed, his parted legs gave you the sight of the erection tenting his grey sweats. The tips of his ears could not get redder, and you saw how he trembled slightly due to a hard shudder coursing through him.

You allowed the dress shirt to fall from your shoulders and to the floor, uncovering your chest for his view. His mouth parted, and for a moment you thought he meant to say something but never found the courage to do it.

So you made it easier for him. “Do you want to touch me, Jeonghan?” you mumbled sweetly, tucking a strand of dark hair beneath his ear.

He appeared to be unable to speak, his gaze fighting to stay on your face instead of your tits bulging beneath your bra. “Ye-yes,” he whispered, wasting no time and raising his hands to cup your tits over your bra.

He did it sloppily, his fingers shaking slightly over the lacey hem of the cup of your bra. He licked his lips again, raising his eyes to meet yours, a question written on his bright eyes.

“I’ll give you another kiss if you unclasp my bra,” you mumbled with the ghost of a smirk on your face.

His throat bobbed, a silent groan escaping him before his hands circled your back, fingers desperately searching for the hook of your bra.

“It’s on the front, Jeonghan,” you whispered with a soft smile.

“Oh…” he blurted with a nervous giggle, moving his hands to the front, looking at the intricate hook before giving it a try and unclasp it. “Ho-how do you do it? Like this?” he asked innocently, his fingers going around the clasp, undoing it by pure luck.

The bra came off, freeing your tits in a nearly obscene way. Jeonghan blinked as you slid your bra down your arms, making you smile wider at the shocked look on his face.

His eyes coasted from your face to your neck, from your collarbones to your chest. It was then that he pushed his tongue on his lower lip, right before sinking his teeth into it.

You grabbed his hands, taking them to your chest. His eager fingers squeezed your tits gently at first, a sigh escaping him when his hands came into contact with your skin. “You’re so warm,” he muttered softly.

“You’re cold,” you giggled, a shudder coursing through you when his fingers experimentally pinched your sensitive nipples.

“Sorry, I could just…” he whispered, making an attempt to remove his hands.

“No, it’s okay,” you mumbled, grabbing his face again, your fingers tangling in his mane of dark hair. “You deserve a kiss,” you said, keeping your touch gentle as you leaned down to kiss him again.

You felt the sharp intake of breath right as your lips touched his, he closed his lips on yours in a wet kiss. Jeonghan moved his hand to your waist, making you stiffen slightly under his cold touch.

Brushing his hair back, you moved a hand to hold his chin, while the other rested on his shoulder. “Are you ready for more?” you asked.

“Yeah, I want to keep going,” he replied with a weak tone.

“If you want to stop, you can say anything and I will,” you told him with seriousness coating your words.

He nodded, considering your proposition before saying: “We could establish a safeword.”

You arched one eyebrow, about to ask him if he was experienced in that. “How-,”

“I watch a lot of porn,” he explained hurriedly, noticing your expression. “I should also mention that I’m clean, and I have condoms… though they’re already expired,” he finished with a frown.

“That’s okay,” you chuckled, letting go of his chin. “I’m also clean, and on birth control. Well, what is your safeword?”

His eyes swam upwards, looking at the ceiling before returning to you. “Quixotic.”

You gave him a bemused look. “Can I ask why?”

“Because this is what it is, unreal. No one would believe me if I ever dared to tell a soul about this...” he said, his gaze trailing from your face down to your semi-naked body in front of him.

“Alright, baby boy,” you sighed, pleased with his reaction. “Are you okay with this, then?”

“A thousand percent,” he blurted, a shy smile adorning his face.

“I’m going to start undressing you now,” you said, carefully grabbing the sides of his hoodie.

“Ye-yeah, okay, go ahead,” he said, and you noticed that the stutter came and went. But he raised his arms, allowing you to remove his hoodie. He wore nothing beneath it, so you encountered his sleek torso.

“Lie down,” you instructed next, running your palms from his chest down, enjoying that his eyes were on you all the time, not losing a moment.

You searched around the room, spotting the mini figurines on his desk. They were hand-painted, and you assumed that they were special edition collectibles. “You have a lot of toys, Jeonghan,” you mumbled. “Did you put them all together?”

“Yes,” he croaked nervously. “All of them.”

“Such skilful hands,” you smirked, relishing in the awed look on his face upon being showered by your genuine praise. “Do you have more toys that you would want to show me?”

“Sh-sh-show you?” he whispered, and part of you believed for a second that he was unable to bring his voice any louder.

“Do you have toys for me to play around with? With you?” you asked, giving him a knowing look.

He gave you a perplexed look. “How did you know I-,”

“It’s not hard to guess, Hannie,” you tilted your head to one side, pouting slightly. “I mean, you don’t have a lot of girls over, do you? Do you go after other girls that aren’t me?”

“No. No,” he emphasized firmly. “You’re the first girl I’ve brought over in… like forever.”

“Mmn,” you hummed, pleased with his answer but not letting it show. “Well, tell me where I can find these toys,” you mumbled sweetly, littering lips with small, taunting kisses.

“In my drawer,” he choked out. “Bedside table.”

“Alright,” you leaned over, placing a sweet kiss on his bottom lip. “Don’t move,” you ordered, getting off the bed and his lap, to circle the bed, his gaze following you.

You smirked when you noticed that the only part of his body that moved was his eyes.

You opened the drawer, finding a bottle of lube that was already spent halfway through, a bunch of condoms that were indeed expired, and toys. “You have a wide variety here,” you pointed, giving him a look. “Do you play with yourself often?”

“Y-yeah,” he closed his eyes in shame. “Like I said, I don’t bring a lot of people over.”

“Mmmn,” you hummed, pretending to be pondering what to pick. Jeonghan indeed had a lot of toys, ranging from cock rings, dildos, fleshlights, and vibrators. “What shall I pick for tonight?”

“T-tonight? You mean there will be more nights like this?” he stammered uncontrollably.

“Only if you behave tonight,” you conditioned with a small smirk, but deep down you knew that he was going to be perfect for you.

And that was almost maddening.

“Pick whatever you prefer, I’m down,” he said, and you saw him grow a little bit more confident.

“I have an impression that you’re into cock rings,” you smirked at him, looking at the variety of cock rings he owned, some with vibrators, some without. You grabbed a simple set of two adjustable cock rings, which were slick and black.

Jeonghan shifted slightly on the bed as you returned to him, placing each of your knees on the sides of his hips. His hands tentatively found your hips, grabbing you over your skirt. “God,” he whispered to himself when you lowered the weight of your body on top of him, sitting on top of him.

It was then that you noticed by feeling his erection just how big he was. You shot him a look that told him you were impressed. “Jeonghan-,”

“I’d advise you to hurry,” he said, trembling slightly under your weight.

You emitted a nervous giggle despite yourself. “Don’t tell me you finish fast,” you said with a mocking tone, trying your best to mask your awe. You ground your hips, pressing your ass down on his bulge.

“Fuck,” he gritted with a tiny tone, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you mumbled sweetly, leaning over to prop a light kiss on his bottom lip. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Hannie. In fact, we can have more fun with that.”

He blinked twice, a frown appearing on his face. “What? How?”

You brushed his cheek with the back of your finger, finishing by cupping his chin. “I could put this on you,” you motioned to the cock ring in your hand, “and I’ll have fun making you come again and again until you can’t anymore.”

An exhale escaped him, his eyes widening once again. “Fuck, please, yes, yes, please do that,” he blurted quickly, much as if he could not contain himself.

“Want me to use you, Hannie?” you asked, realizing that you had hit a weak point for him.

His eyelashes fluttered, a small choked-out sound coming from his lips. “Yes, please... use me.”

You smiled, pleased with his answer. “Let’s put this on you, baby boy,” you said, moving from his lap to stand before the foot of the bed. Hooking your fingers on the band of his sweat, you dragged them down his legs, leaving him with his white briefs only.

“Mmn,” you hummed quietly, looking at the way his erection was tenting his underwear.

Slowly, you tugged the fabric down, Jeonghan bit his bottom lip, keeping his gaze on your expression. The band of his briefs inched down, and his cock sprung free, resting on his lower abdomen.

Fuck. He was big, even bigger than you imagined when you felt him. You would take a while adjusting to his size, you knew it. Your mouth salivated at the thought, the thought of riding him raw, the thought of making him come inside you, over and over again. You wanted to make him yours, to ruin him.

“Let’s take this slow, yes?” you said primly, pressing a knee on the bed and between his legs to lean down and press kiss on his pretty lips.

“No, please, don’t take it slow,” he choked out, a hand sneaking beneath your skirt to feel your hip.

“I haven’t even touched you yet,” you emphasized with a smirk. “That bad you want me already?”

He nodded his head eagerly. “Suck me, fuck me, I don’t care, just have your fun with me,” he pressed, removing his hand from your hip.

“What if my kind of fun is to torture you slowly?” you tested him, studying him with your eyes.

His lower lip trembled slightly when you slid your hand from his chest down his abdomen. “I d-don’t wanna come too soon,” he said, cursing under his breath when your fingertip reached his pubic hair.

“Could you come untouched, then?” you wondered, quirking an eyebrow.

“I don’t know. Right now I feel like I could,” he replied.

You gave him a soft laugh. “Oh, I’m going to have fun with you,” you assured.

“Please do.”

Your fingers inched further down, circling around his shaft. A strangled gasp left him, his breath brushing against your lips, reciprocating your quick kiss as you started jerking him off slowly, exploring his cock. “You know how many times I fantasized about this?” you asked with a low tone.

“This?” he closed his eyes. “I don’t know, once?”

“You constantly get on my nerves, Jeonghan,” you rolled your hand on his cock, smearing him all over with his precum leaking from its slit. “I wanted to have you like this since you started sitting next to me.”

“Really?” he breathed with the ghost of a smile. “I knew it.”

“You planned it?”

“I didn’t plan shit,” he blurted with a hollow laugh. “I hoped. I hoped you looked at me, I wanted to talk to you, but never could.”

The movement of your hand stilled. “All the things you did to nag me, you didn’t do them on purpose?”

“Not at first, no. I promise,” he smirked innocently. “I just noticed that you would pay attention to me, so I started to do it more frequently.”

Shock buried itself deep within you, making the features of your face go lax, and your mouth opened wide in shock. “Oh, you bad boy,” you whispered reproachingly, switching to a wide smile.

You moved back so you could get a better view of his body, his cock still in your hand. You were stroking him gently, but he was hard for you, his tip reddened and leaking precum as you had never seen another do.

“Yeah,” he said softly, noticing the light shock on your face. “Please hurry.”

“Alright,” you conceded at last, moving the cock ring on his shaft, adjusting it firmly to his girth, then you did the same to his ballsack. “How is that?” you asked with a gentler tone.

“I can take more,” he said, his brown eyes absorbing you.

“There?” you asked, adjusting the ring to strangle him a bit more.

“Ye-yeah,” he breathed, shifting on the bed in nervousness. “Fuck,” he said under his breath when you continued stroking him with one hand, checking him for any signs of discomfort but only finding pleasure on his face.

His mouth dropped open, his eyes fluttered before shutting, and his throat throbbed as he swallowed.

You leaned over, smirking to yourself before you gave him a broad stroke to his long shaft with your tongue.

“Fuck!” he forced out, his eyes snapping open.

You laughed, licking the reddened cockhead, picking up the precum that was leaking from the slit. Jeonghan was a babbling mess, trembling on his bedcovers, breathing raggedly. His face was priceless, scrunched up in utter bliss, his cock covered in your drool.

You teased the swollen ridge of his head with the tip of your tongue, licking it playfully with swift jabs, a hand squeezing his balls gently, the other stroking his long shaft, pushing him further for his early release.

What caught your attention was that he made no move to touch your head or your hair. His hands balled into fists, clenching the bedcovers in an attempt to hold a little longer.

But you continued pumping him with one hand, ignoring the way his eyes widened. Circling his cockhead with your lips, you began sucking it as you would a popsicle, making slurping sounds. You teased him like this, making you with the bulbous head of his cock, holding his gaze with your own.

The expressions he made were priceless, his mouth open, his eyes coasting from yours to your lips on him, to your hand pumping him.

“Ah–fuck, do-don’t—I’m gonna, I’m gonna, g-god,” he murmured quickly but gave you enough time to remove your mouth from his head.

It was too late, a long and pleased sigh left him as ropes of cum spurted from his tip, and just kept coming, dripping from his slit down to his shaft, covering your fingers around him. You cussed with a sigh, looking at the warm mess coating your hand, the beads of cum scattered on his lower abdomen.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he drawled pathetically, closing his eyes tightly. “Fuck, it just feels so good,” he said, mouthing apologetic words over and over.

“You’re good, baby,” you hushed, noticing the furious red tinting the tip of his ears in shame. “Can I keep going?”

He gulped before nodding with his head. “Yes,” he croaked, but his eyebrows drew inward slightly. “I want you to feel good too.”

“Don’t worry about me,” you said, stroking his shaft with your dirty hand, smearing him with cum all over. “I’m having fun.”

“But-but…” he trailed off when you moved, climbing down the bed.

Putting on a show, you finished undressing before him, removing your skirt and your ruined panties with your dainty fingers, leaving your high-knee socks on purpose. You climbed back on the bed, moving towards him, placing each knee at his sides on the bed.

Jeonghan just fell into a deeper fascination. You saw it on his face, how his features fell upon the sight of you utterly naked and on top of him.

“I said don’t worry,” you mumbled, stroking him gently again with your hand, enjoying that his cock was still hard. “I can make myself feel good, and you’re going to help me with that.”

“How?” he croaked.

“Well, we agreed that I’d use you, no?” you cooed softly. “And I want to suck you and ride you until you’re spent.”

His hands searched for you, his fingers caressing your legs, feeling you up timidly. He gave you a tiny nod with his head, unable to utter a word.

“You want that, baby?” you muttered, his cum already cooled in your hand but you just kept going. “You came so much, Hannie… I want you to do that when you’re inside me.”

“I-I… fuck. I want that too—all of that,” he said, now building up confidence. “I want to feel you, please?”

“Not before you come again like this,” the motion of your hand-picked up some speed, your fingers tightening around his shaft.

“No, please, please, I need to feel you,” he closed his eyes, tears falling from the corners when you moved back to wrap your mouth around his sensitive cockhead. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, no, no…”

He sucked in a breath, the grunts spilling from his lips only egging you on. You sucked him harshly, tasting his cum with your tongue pressed to the tip, hollowing your cheeks out as your hand kept pumping him relentlessly.

The ring helped keep his erection for longer, but something inside you told you that he could do this even without it. A cunning thought told you that he would be a great sub for you with little training.

“Too much,” he breathed without complaint, there was an elated smile on his face as he sank his head back onto the pillows. “God… ah, please…”

Instinctively, you removed your mouth from his cockhead just as ropes of cum spurted from its reddened tip. Jeonghan tensed and writhed on the bedcovers, choked-out sobs falling from his parted lips. You moved your lips to kiss his shaft, as more beads of cum dripped down.

“Thank you… Fuck, that was amazing,” he croaked languidly, opening his eyes.

With a shudder in excitement, you noticed the clumped eyelashes, and the tears falling from the corners of his pretty eyes. You realized then, that Jeonghan would become your obsession.

His cock started to go soft in your hand, but somehow you knew that it would not take him too long before he was ready for round three.

“You did amazing, baby. Let’s take this off for now,” you mumbled sweetly, arranging your fingers to get the ring off him, not paying attention to the mess smeared all over him and your hands. The dirtier the better.

And it seemed like Jeonghan shared the same fascination. He bit his lower lip, much as if he could not resist it.

“Can I ask you something?” his tone was low, but timid at the same time.

“Sure,” you conceded with a small smile.

“Did you know that I like you?” he asked, his voice shaking so much that he ended with a mere whisper.

“No,” you replied with honesty, getting a tingling feeling inside you, blooming into a shudder.

“Really?” he cocked his head on the bedcover. “So what would you have done if I had rejected your advances?”

You paused, sitting on top of his messy abdomen. You coughed up a low chuckle, shrugging with ease. “Then I would have moved on,” you blinked at him slowly, enjoying the dazed look in his eyes. “I guess I hoped that you liked me too.”

He clicked his tongue softly negating with his head as he said, “Insane… this is insane.”

You found yourself smiling broadly at him, your chest swelling with endearment for him. You brought a clean hand to pinch his chin, and he instinctively opened his mouth, biting the tip of your finger softly, the act so innocent that it made you chuckle.

A rush coursed through you upon having his wet tongue on your fingers, but you were distracted swiftly, noticing that he had grown hard again. “I take that you’re ready for me?”

“Fuck… yes,” he whispered with a mischievous smile.

“What’s that?” you arched one eyebrow.

He made a small motion to shake his head. “Nothing...” he said, but then he reconsidered, “So I mangled a copy of Frankenstein and that was it for you? Should I do it more often?”

“No,” you deadpanned, the conversation suddenly turning serious to you. “I hate what you do to books… But you know what? Maybe.”

“Ah, okay, okay,” he laughed, his breath hitching when you repositioned your hips on him, aligning your pretty pussy with his long dick. “Fuck,” he gritted, shooting you an exasperated look. “Raw?”

“Only if you want it, Hannie,” you cooed softly, grabbing his shaft. “If not, I’m okay with you eating me out.”

“I haven’t actually given head before,” he blurted, anxiously gripping your hips in anticipation, but then he gave you a nod with his head. “I want it, please, I want to feel you.”

You smiled at him. “Oh, you really are perfect,” you sighed, shifting on top of him, enjoying his gaze on your body, right where you were about to meet with his cock. You slipped the tip of his cock between your folds, teasing yourself and him a little.

“Ssshit,” he hissed, moving on the bed anxiously, but his dark eyes were still on your pussy, waiting for you to give him what he desperately wanted.

His hands clenched on the soft skin of your hips, his fingernails digging into you so harshly you knew you would leave marks in a few minutes.

“Don’t make me tie you,” you said, your tone quivering slightly. It was then when you paid attention to your own body, the way you were aching to feel him, to feel the stretch his long cock would make you feel, you wanted to know how deep he could reach inside you.

“Another night, maybe?” he teased, mustering some courage.

Your heart fluttered upon seeing a tint of attitude behind that tiny, but devilish smirk. “Another night…” you conceded, pushing his cock with your fingers so that its bulbous head met your entrance, your mouth instantly falling open when you started to ease down on his long and veiny shaft.

“God,” he whispered.

“Oh, Jeonghan!” you cried, sinking down on him with a raw and drawn-out moan. You continued to sit down on him, shuddering as his dick stretched your walls deliciously, making you take your other hand to stroke your clit in gentle motions to ease the slight sting.

“Well, that is all the time I have for you today,” Professor Blackwood called loudly as your fellow classmates stood from their chairs, dragging them across the floor loudly, snapping you awake from the memory.

You jolted quite embarrassingly, licking your lips in an attempt to bring the muscles of your face alive. Realizing that had been fantasizing about Jeonghan for the remainder of the lecture, you could feel that your panties were soaked, and sticking to your throbbing core.

Jeonghan did not move from his seat either. He was bouncing a knee, sharing the same tension you were feeling, he shot you a knowing look.

“My place or yours?” you smirked.

› author's note: HEYOOOOOO

it's finally here! i am sorry it took me so long, the last 10 days of october kicked my ass 😭😭😭😭 i am still recovering from those days lol

it also took me a while to write this one because i can't for the life of me, imagine jeonghan as a loser because to me he is the coolest human being on earth. even if he is a loser at times, i just can't, he is the coolest to me :3

also, remember his iconic s-s-s-s-say the name ? that is what i pictured whenever i wrote that hannie stuttered 😭

anyway, that is it. i'll come back with more hannieween fest fics and maybe i'll post lights out soon hehehehe

toodles! thank you so so much for your support! 🙂

support me on ko-fi? 🥹🩵

#jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x reader #svthub #kvanity #thediamondlifenetwork #svt smut #hannieween's kinktober #yoon jeonghan fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt imagines #yoon jeonghan x you #jeonghan fanfic #jeonghan fic #hannieween #hannieweenfest

768 notes · View notes

lukesandromeda · 3 months ago

Text

hard to sleep - luke castellan x reader

summary : luke convinces you to sleep in his cabin and it results in you helping him recover from a nightmare.

warnings: mostly fluff but a bit of angst - reader thinks luke is having a wet dream - luke is sad and scared 💔 my baby

a/n: not proofread and it's 1:38 am and i wrote this in only one hour so we'll see what it looks like later ig - couldn’t think of a title but when it doubt gracie it out

You'd sworn you'd try. You'd sworn you'd try to sleep in the crowded Hermes cabin tonight for Luke. You'd been hanging over his hips in a straddling position that was void of any real contact, just holding your body above him as you sat on your knees.

The two of you had been swapping kisses in between locked lips and smiles and giggles that escaped and found solace in each other's mouths.

"Stay," he'd whispered against your lips when you pulled away to get a breath of air.

You kissed back, breathlessly panting into his mouth. "No, thanks."

He pulled away, and you waited for a moment for him to catch his breath before you leaned in to kiss him again. This time, though, he caught you with palms flat against your chest and pushed you back for a second. He bit back a smile as he saw the look of petulance on your face and then he ran a thumb over your lips.

You parted them, and he accepted that as an invite to slip the thumb over the curve of your bottom lip. He sighed as he watched your immediate act of obedience, and then he huffed, "Stay."

You pouted, and gods help you, Luke mirrored it by tugging his bottom lip through his teeth to mock you. You huffed, brows furrowing at his expression. The silent exchange brought a lazy smile to his lips, his big brown eyes tracing over your lips. "Stay."

You rolled your eyes as you protested in a small, lazy voice, "I don't like it in here."

"Thanks," he retorted as he adjusted his hold on your hips.

"Welcome."

"Angel, don't you love me?"

Your eyes took in his face and you rolled your eyes when you saw the look of what you thought was mock desperation. "Sometimes."

"Mhm?" he grinned at your faux look of indifference.

"Yeah."

"Is loving me sometimes enough to get you to stay in my cabin tonight?"

You shrugged. "Sleeping in your cabin isn't exactly my favorite."

He shrugged back. "Shucks."

You wanted to slap him on the face, and you'd raised your hand to do so. However, unfortunately, (fortunate, actually, if you were being honest,) Luke was already taking both of your hands to his lips and pressing soft kisses to each knuckle on both hands.

"Your cabin is packed. And loud. I never get any sleep in here."

"Get that melanie shit. Helps you sleep." He suggested.

"Melatonin," you corrected absentmindedly. Your thighs were starting to ache from the job of holding your body weight above his, so you gently settled on his hips. He made a noise of approval, hands squeezing your hips.

"Sleep in here tonight. Please." He begged. "Try for me. I need you tonight."

You rolled your eyes as if your heart wasn't fluttering from the sweet words. You opened your mouth to protest, but the asshole cut you off with a, "Baby, try for me."

A soft, gentle hum escaped from your sealed lips, approving the pet name and the tone he used it with.

A few moments passed as you started into the stupid, wide, boyish brown eyes that were glossy and begging you to stay.

"Fine," you mumbled in a tone of annoyance, and there was a grin on his lips before yours were on them instead.

When your eyes flutter open, it takes you a few moments to realize that it's still night. You blink for a few moments before your vision is clear enough to catch a comprehensible glance at Luke's bedside table alarm clock. 2:47 am.

You blink a few other times before groaning, eyes finding the ceiling as your cloudy mind identifies what woke you up.

It doesn't come to a conclusion.

You begin to shrug it off. Maybe an animal made a particularly loud sound from outside. Maybe Luke kicked you in his sleep. Maybe—what was that?

After looking to the side, you noticed Luke was still in bed with you. But it took you a while to notice that. Because he was practically hanging off the edge of the bed, as far as possible from you. This discovery leads you to acknowledge how damn cold it is without his body heat, but then your mind thinks back to what just happened.

Luke moaned.

Luke had moaned in his sleep.

You shiver. You knew Luke was dirty. Gross. It pained you to even consider what was going on his dreams right now.

You rolled over to face the opposite direction, closing your eyes and letting your mind begin to lull you back into sleep.

"Ah," you hear from Luke. You roll your eyes and turn over to stare at the back of his perverted head.

That's when you realize that his 'perverted' head is shaking. Desperately back and forth.

You blink, squinting when you release how tense his muscles are.

He's sweating, and as shamefully ogle at the sweaty muscles in his shoulders, you notice that said shoulders are shaking.

"Please stop," he whispers weakly, the words kind of slurred and only comprehensible when you take an extra five seconds to decipher them.

You take a deep breath.

Nightmare.

You squeeze your eyes shut in dread.

Sleeping with Luke is always pleasant. He's warm, he's big, he's good at cuddling. The only downside, the common downside, is dealing with his nightmares.

It's not like he was hard to deal with. It didn't give you second hand embarrassment like it would with anyone else. He didn't thrash around and get violent in his sleep. He just got sad. And that's what you found to be difficult.

You sighed, moving closer to him and whispering, "Luke, baby."

"Please stop," he begs, and you take a moment to remind yourself that he's not talking to you.

You touch his shoulder, not going far enough to shake it. You drag a thumb across the blade and lean in and press a kiss to the back of his neck. "Luke."

You hear a whine, and something similar to a sob. You resort to pressing kisses to his upper back, shoulders, neck and head. You mutter his name a few times as you do so until he sits up slowly.

He doesn't dart up straight like others do. He slowly, weakly brings himself into consciousness, as if he's trying to come to terms with something.

Luke sits with knees up, halfway spread and elbows on them. He stares at the wall, blinking away startled and most likely frustrated tears as he takes a few deep breaths before falling back down until he's laying again.

His eyes trace the room until they land on you, and you realize that it's just now that he notices that you're there.

"Oh," he breathes. He looks guilty.

"Hi," you whisper nervously as your cautious eyes trace his face, "you okay, handsome?"

A few moments pass as he returns the inspection of your face before he shrugs weakly. "I'm really tired."

You hum, looking over his body before you pull yourself to sit up, and habitually, he follows suit.

Wordlessly, you crawl over and peel off his damp, sweaty shirt. He lets you, lifting his arms just slightly from your sides. If he wasn't going through emotional turmoil right now, you probably would've made a snarky joke on his laziness and the fact that he's making you do all of the work.

Once you've worked his shirt off, you throw it into his hamper that sits beside his nightstand and then you leave the bed. A look of panic immediately settles onto his features, and he's begging incomprehensible variations of, "Don't go, gods, please don't go."

You exhale as you bring a hand to cup his face, soothingly drawing a half circle on his face. "Two seconds. Gonna grab something."

Reluctantly, he lets you go and watches as you wade into the bathroom. When you come back, you're holding a damp rag that he notices is a bit sudsy.

Sitting down next to him on the bed, you take his hand as you begin to use your free hand to drag the cloth against his skin and scrub at the beads of sweat that coat his skin.

He whines, feeling the harsh pressure against his tense muscles. Your brows knit together in empathy and you whisper, "I know. I know, baby. You're doing good."

He looks up at you, making eye contact as he watches you delicately clean him.

You offer him a sympathetic smile. You know it's more than sympathy—it's empathy. You feel the guilt in your stomach.

Luke opens his mouth, and then closes it. His tongue darts out to moisten his lips, and he hesitantly pulls his eyes away from yours and watches as his abdominal muscles jerk and twitch beneath the rag. He mewls and you shush him gently with words of encouragement.

Finally, his eyes close when you begin to wipe his face. You wipe underneath his eyes, wincing as he exhales shakily. You collect the mix of tears and sweat from his chiseled cheek bones. You use the rag on his hairline and you put your hands in his hair to massage his scalp. Subsequently, this releases the tension in his brows.

His eyes close when you toss the rag onto the bedside table and go back to him. You open your arms, and he pouts. He pouts like he needed it. He pouts like he's so incredibly moved by your act of kindness. You let out a sound of approval when he crawls into your arms and wraps his around your waist, settling onto your upper body. He breathes shakily into your neck and you lean down to press a kiss to his hairline.

You don't ask him what happened, what the dream was about. You instead smile when he tells you that he loves you and you respond with, "I love you, too, Luke.”

And he nods as if he's so incredibly relieved to hear that.

It shocks you how fast he can fall asleep in your arms after an intense nightmare.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #charlie bushnell #luke pjo #percy jackson #charlie bushnell x reader #luke castellan x reader fluff #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan x reader smut #charlie bushnell x reader fluff

600 notes · View notes

mountainsandmayhem · 10 months ago

Text

Shhh...Just A Little Bit More

DBF!Joel x Fem!Reader

18+ MDNI

Masterlist || Part Two || Part Three (Soft Version) || Part Three (Spicy Version)

Summary: Joel catches you somewhere you shouldn't be, twice. CW: all p no plot! age gap, spanking, dirty talk, parental guilt, brat and brat tamer, sub/dom dynamics, edging and degradation kinks if you squint AN: I found the bottom right photo on Pinterest and @mermaidgirl30 said it screamed DBF!Joel. I have never written for DBF before so please be kind. Dividers by @saradika-graphics - thank you for all your amazing graphics and dividers, I'd be lost without your page.

“Let go of me, you fucking psycho!” You’re practically yelling over the music of the club, wrenching your arm from Joel’s strong grasp. The security guard approaches and Joel shoots him a glare so dark that he holds his hands up and steps back. “What the fuck, Joel?”

“What are ya doin’ here, sweetheart” he demands, one eyebrow raised.

“I’m working!” You stomp your foot and then get right up in his face, pointing a finger at him. Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend, hanging out in a strip club one town over. “The real question is, what are YOU doin here?”

You’re only a bottle girl, you don’t get on the stage and have no intentions of stripping. It’s good money, great money actually. At 22 you’re already well on your way to having a down payment on a condo, it’s just too bad you’re having to lie to your parents.

“With my crew, they picked the place. I’m takin’ you home. Go get your coat.” He crosses his arms over his chest, staring at you sternly. The music is pounding in your ears, the air thick with smoke. Even in the dimly lit hallway you can see the way Joel’s eyes rake over your body, taking in the very tiny Jean shorts and bralette you’re wearing.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spin and flip him the bird as you walk away. You know he’s staring so you give a little extra wiggle of your ass as you walk away. Joel Miller, staring at your ass. The fourteen year old inside you does a happy dance - that version of yourself had a tiny crush on him. Too bad he’s a stuffy, grumpy asshole now. You miss the fun, young Joel. He used to do cannonballs in the pool with you and his daughter Sarah. She was a few years older than you, but he was much more fun than your father. But now? Now he’s a certified prick. Thinking he can drag you away like some sort of barbaric caveman. He’s not your dad, even if he was, you’re an adult.

When you finish your shift you head outside and pull up your Uber app, men often want to do shots with you so even though you never get drunk at work you also don’t drive there.

See, Joel. I’m responsible.

“Let’s go,” his voice is deep, still angry with you. You didn’t see him waiting by the door so you jump.

“Jesus. You fucking scared me.”

“Watch your language. Get in the truck.”

You grumble under your breath that he should kiss your ass as he holds the door open for you. He stalks around to his side of the truck while furrowing his brow and shaking his head.

“Got somethin’ to say young lady?”

“Ya,” you say, slumping in the seat and putting your white vans on his dashboard, “kiss my ass.”

He presses his lips in a thin line, you can see him eyeing your long toned legs from your peripheral vision before the engine roars to life and he speeds off down the gravel highway.

When you pull up to the house he hops out of the truck and is right on your heels as you open the door.

“I’m fine, Mister Miller.” You say with a sneer. You know he hates that, he has told everyone he’s ever been introduced to to call him Joel.

Joel steps into your parents house and calls your dad’s name. “What the fuck! Joel! Shut up!”

He calls for him again and your dad comes stumbling from his room, tying his robe around his sleeping attire. “Joel? What’s going on?” He flicks on the light, squinting against the brightness. “It’s 3 in the morning.”

“Just thought I’d let you now know that the guys at work wanted to go to The Skin tonight. Caught your daughter working there.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Joel?!” You yell, pushing at his broad chest. Your dad stands there stunned. Eyes wide and mouth agape. He thought you were working as a nurses aide overnight at the hospital on weekends. He’s even seen you leave the house in scrubs. All a part of the web of lies you have weaved.

“Don’t speak to Joel that way,” your dad snaps. “Go to your room young lady. We’ll talk about this later.”

“Kiss my ass, cowboy.” You practically spit at him as you stomp to your room. As you round the corner your mom is standing in the hallway clutching her crucifix necklace. You have a sudden urge to hiss at her with the way she’s looking at you, like you’re a disappointment. A sinner, the worst kind of person in her eyes.

The next morning was the fight of all fights with your parents. Your dad tried to ground you, your mom started shoving church pamphlets at you. They wouldn’t even fucking listen.

“IM NOT A STRIPPER,” you yelled at them over and over again.

Finally, when the yelling ceased, your dad said in a very quiet anger, “young lady. I FORBID you from going there again. Is that clear? I don’t care if you’re 22 or 42, if you live under my roof, you live by my rules. You’re going to go to continue going to your university classes during the week, and on weekends you will be home. Studying. Helping your mother with the chores. You will go to bed at respectable hour. If you need money, you ask us. Is that clear?”

You blink back tears and head to your room, slamming the door behind you. You are NOT quitting that job.

When the next weekend rolls around you say goodnight to your parents at 10pm and head to your room. You worked it out with your boss to work the midnight to 4 am shift. So you wait - ear pressed to your door until you finally hear your parents go to bed. You sneak out the same way you’ve been sneaking out for years and run down the street with your newly embroidered denim shorts in hand to meet your Uber.

You peel yourself away from the men and the booze around 2am to get some fresh air, exiting through the back to the dimly lit alley. You take a big inhale through your nose before you see it. The truck. Joel’s truck. And Joel. Leaning against the truck box, arms crossed, one foot up on the tire.

You flip him off and then turn back towards the back entrance to the club. He’s on you so fast, grabbing the back of your bicep in his large hand. “You little brat. You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Read the shorts, MISTER Miller.” You say it as much venom as you can muster.

His eyes rake down your body and you can almost feel them burning into you. It feels so good, you never want him to stop. Your pussy throbbed when he called you a brat and you wouldn’t be surprised if your light jean shorts hadn’t been soaked through already. When his eyes reach the pocket he sees ‘Kiss My Ass, Cowboy’ stitched in baby pink lettering and his grip tightens.

He’s fucking furious with you. Furious that you’re here. Furious that other men get to see you dressed like this. Furious that he wants you so fucking badly. But mostly, furious because he knows you want him too and he’s a weak weak man when it comes to pretty little things like you. He yanks you back against his body and you let out a pained moan.

“Don’t make me punish you,” he says coldly in your ear and you fight to stop your knees from buckling.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say breathlessly.

Joel’s lips graze against the shell of your ear, hand gripping so tightly that you’re sure you’ll have bruises tomorrow. “So that’s what you want? You want me to punish you? Put you in your place? Huh?”

You grind your ass back against him, “you would dare, Joel.”

His other hand clamps down on your hip as he steers you to his truck, walking you around so no one can see the two of you. He opens the back door and pushes you forward until your legs are against the cold steel frame of the vehicle. “You don’t get to call me that. You call me Mr Miller from now on. Understood?”

“Go fuck yourself, Joel,” you emphasize every vowel of his name, digging deeper. Pushing him. Pushing to see how far he’ll go. You get off on being a brat, and by the way his hard cock is pressing into your ass, he does too.

He unbottons your shorts then lifts you slightly and pushes your upper body down onto the seat, the truck is high enough that your feet are dangling, ass stuck out for him. “Look at these slutty little shorts.” He tugs on the hem, your shorts now sitting just above your knees. Your pert ass is exposed to Joel and the night air. He tuts at the sight of you, “No panties. Little fuckin’ tease.”

You whimper at his words, slick starting to coat your thighs. “You’re the one standing back there doing nothing.” You taunt.

The cool night air spreads goosebumps across your skin, your clit twitches in anticipation of his touch. Other men have fucked you hard to get you to shut your mouth. And finally, FINALLY, you’re going to get fucked by Joel Miller. However, you grossly underestimated the different between the boys were with before and the man behind you now.

His hand strikes your cheek hard and you let out a loud pained yell. “What the fuck, Joel!”

“If you’re gonna be a brat,” his hand lands on your ass again, “you’re going to get a spanking.” His voice is harsh and rough as he hits you a third time. The sound of his skin on yours echoing through the cab of his truck. He hits you again, not caring about your cries of protest.

You’ve never been spanked before and you’re thrown by your bodies reaction to it. At first you were shocked, then humiliated and then the pain and heat travelled to the base of your spine and you found yourself starting to get turned on. Arousal pools in your belly with each strike of his palm and when your pussy throbs the humiliation starts to creep back in. Are you supposed to be enjoying this so much, is this what Joel wants?

You bend your knees up, trying to make space between your bodies. One of his strong hands wraps around your ankles, pinning them to the back of your thighs as he spanks you again.

“Stop! I’m sorry. I’ll - “ he strikes you again, harder than the last few times and there’s no more pain, every slap is full of pleasure. You let out a deep moan, your pussy practically gushing onto the leather seats. “Oh fuuuuck.”

Now that it’s turning you on it almost eggs Joel on. “Put your hands out in front of you,” he commands. Your arms shoot out, stretching them across the seat above your head. “Such a needy little slut. You’re drippin’ all over my fucking seat, baby girl.” He strikes you again and your arms flinch. “Keep them there.”

Your ass is starting to get pink, his splotchy handprints covering it. The world around him starts to fade, all that he can see is you and your ass - and he wants to make it hurt. Then he wants to make it good. So very good.

His strikes keep coming, he’s like a man possessed. “Stop, Joel. Please.”

He drops your ankles, then uses his hand to spread your thighs apart, the denim biting into your knees. “Shhh…just a little bit more. Look at this messy pussy. You don’t want me to stop.”

He hits you again and you start to hate how much he’s right. You don’t want him to stop, you’re on the verge of coming and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You’re sure the second he’s near your clit you’ll explode.

Both of your cheeks are glowing red and Joel finally stops. You’ve both lost track of how many times he’s hit you. His large palm rubs the marks. You know you should keep your mouth shut, but fuck do you love to rile him up.

“Are you done now? I have work to get back to.”

Joel growls behind you. You hear the sound of his belt undoing, the leather whipping out from the demin loops. “I’m sick of your goddamn mouth, baby girl.”

Your eyes widen in fear, stomach twisting up over the thought of him striking your sore ass with his thick leather belt. Your pussy, however, flutters in excitement. Slut, you think to yourself.

You hear his buckle clinking, he grabs you by the hair and jerks your head back. “Open you mouth,” he says with a snarl. You obey him and he slides the folded up leather between your teeth. “Bite down on this. You can speak to me again once you’ve learned your lesson.”

You press your teeth into the rough leather, waiting for his next move. His hand comes across the back of your thigh and it’s a whole different sensation. The pain shoots straight to your core, the walls of your pussy clenching harder than your teeth do as you whine out a high pitched squeal. On instinct your hands shoot back, knees bending to protect yourself from him. He steps back from you, without his heat you’re left in the cold air.

“Arms up and legs down,” he says in an eerily calm voice.

You whimper again, grinding your teeth against the leather of his belt before slowly peeling your arms and legs away from your body, returning to Joel’s desired position. You’re so wet that it’s staring pool along the leather seat of Joel’s truck, your hips slipping slightly.

“Dirty little thing. I’m tryin to punish you and you’re sopping wet.” He steps forward and lays a loud sharp slap with perfect precision right across your sore thigh.

You yelp again, whining as your lash line fills with tears. This is not what you thought would happen when Joel threatened to punish you. And you definitely didn’t expect to fucking love it. You’re so turned on that you feel dizzy.

Joel’s lips come to your thigh. Light kisses and his scratchy facial hair peppering along your red hot skin. “Fuck me,” you say around the leather clamped between your teeth.

Joel laughs into your skin, kissing along the handprints he’s left on your ass. You’re squirming underneath him, pushing your ass towards his face, desperate for him to make you come. His hands grip around your shorts and your whole body relaxes at the thought of him finally fucking you. “I need you to listen to me now, ok?”

You nod fervently and he lets out an amused laugh. You arch your back at him invitingly, but instead of removing your shorts he yanks them back up. You moan out in protest as he lifts you down from the truck. His strong fingers work to do up your shorts before he spins you. You look like a wreck; mascara smudged under your eyes, cheeks pink, eyes glazed and dopey looking. Cock drunk and he hasn’t even given it to you. He grabs the belt and you release it for him. It’s killing him not to fuck you right here and now.

His hand cups your chin, squeezing your cheeks and locking eyes with you. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

You try to nod but he’s gripping you so tightly. “Yea? Then you need to do what I say. Ok?”

“Mm-hmm”

“Go in there and quit. Then come back out here and I will fuck you so hard that you’ll feel it in your throat.”

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @baar-ur @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @mermaidgirl30

1K notes · View notes

purple-babygirl · 10 months ago

Text

in the far corner of the forest I

Pairings: Orc!Bucky Barnes x f!human!reader Word Count: 3,867 Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though. Warnings: drugging, sort of kidnapping, crying, a lil dirty talk, nudity, unwanted intimate touching, forced/arranged marriage. 18+ content. A/N: I thought I'd start small and see what you guys think first before posting longer chapters. Please let me know your thoughts if you can and please enjoy xx💜💜

“Don’t be dead already, dammit.” She heard a low voice mutter as she regained her consciousness bit by bit.

Her body felt so weak, her mind so fuzzy. Her head felt heavy as she turned it to the side with a groan, slowly opening her eyes.

The room she was in looked warm and kind of homely. It was a large room that looked like it was both a living room and a bedroom, only illuminated by the light coming from the fireplace and a couple of storm lanterns hung around.

“Ah, finally awake! How ya feelin’?” The rough voice asked her, now sounding louder.

She’s never sat up faster than she did when she saw the strange man standing at the end of the large bed.

Her vision went black for a second and her head hurt, but she fought to open her eyes, deeming it unsafe to close them with a strange man around.

Wait, was he even a man? Shit! Was that a metal arm on him?! He appeared to be wearing dog tags.

Has she been kidnapped? Arrested? But what for? She didn’t step into forbidden territory, did she?

“Are you—?”

“A real orc? Yeah.” He smirked confidently.

“And your arm…” she started, sitting herself up straighter as she cradled her head.

He only chuckled, feeding more wood to the fire warming them up.

“Is—is that—”

His smirk widened, “a real metal arm?”

She nodded.

The orc nodded back mockingly and her head was back to spinning.

She was alone, in an unfamiliar place, with a massive snow orc, who had a metal left arm.

It seemed surreal. She felt high; like she was dreaming or making everything she was seeing up in her head. Her mind must be doing an Alice-in-Wonderland bit on her.

“I need to go,” she whispered, more to herself than the stranger, trying to get her feet on the ground but the soldier tutted at her and she froze.

“Not gon’ happen.” He walked closer, watching her cute, little face twist in confusion and fear.

“What?” she asked dumbly, her voice small and shaky.

“You’re not leaving.” He stood before her, huge arms crossed.

“Please, I- I didn’t mean to trespass. I swear. I barely even leave the orph—”

“What are you talking about?” He raised an eyebrow, his large hand getting closer to try and touch her forehead to see if the sleeping potion gave her a temperature.

She immediately flinched, dodging his touch as she started panicking inside. She took a couple of steps back as she tried to rearrange her thoughts, but she couldn’t.

“I— how did I get here?” she asked, her voice sounding way more scared than she had wanted.

“You’re my bride,” the orc informed her with another smile, tusks glinting, and if she wasn’t so terrified she might’ve thought that was a happy smile.

The previous events rushed back to her mind as she remembered her encounter with the orphanage manager just days ago. So the woman did end up giving her to the soldier as promised. She didn’t protect her from that terrible fate.

The woman who had raised her just so easily put her to sleep and let some savage stranger collect her as his trophy wife even after she'd begged her not to.

“Who did you think an orphan like you was gonna marry? A prince? This is not a fairytale kingdom! I’m doing you a favour.” She remembered the woman’s demeaning comment and how she mocked her in front of the rest of the girls.

“No, no.” She shook her head, tears pearling in her frightened eyes, “there must have been a mistake.”

“Oh, little human, quit whimpering. There’s been no mistake; you’re my mate.” His big thumb swiped across her chin. “I have you now and I’m never gonna let you go,” he told her with longing she didn’t understand.

His words made the dam collapse as she burst into tears, loud sobs tearing through her chest as she hunched over and cried.

This couldn’t be her fate. She knew she wasn’t the prettiest or the slimmest of girls out there, but she didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to end up as a reward for some metal-armed monster. She was a good girl, she’s always been good. She deserved better.

Why did it have to be her that they offered? Why did it have to be anyone? Everyone knew what he was and who he was and they still handed her over like she meant nothing.

“Shush now, enough crying. I don’t like the sight of puffy eyes. Come on, you’re ruining our wedding night,” the orc said, his expression bored as he started to take his heavy sweater off.

She wished she hadn’t looked up at him.

He was big. Huge. What wedding night was he talking about? Was he trying to destroy her? End her?

“What are you doing?” She trembled as the words left her.

He raised a suggestive eyebrow and she chocked on a sob.

“No, no, please.” She shook her head again, crying harder.

“Stop. Crying,” he warned, grinding his teeth and she stopped her wailing at once, swallowing the lump stuck in her throat.

“Much better. Now get yourself out of these clothes,” the orc demanded, his fingers hooking themselves under the hem of her oversized, handed down pullover.

“Please don’t do this.” Her heart was hammering in her chest, her eyes frantically searching for an exit.

“You have one minute to be standing bare in front of me or I’m gonna have you find out what I do to those who make me repeat myself,” he seethed, his eyes hard as they pinned her in place.

“I— I’ve never…” she muttered, her face growing hotter as she fiddled her fingers, “please, I can’t.”

“Oh, you’ve never been fucked, little human?” He teased her, his smile bordering on a smug smirk.

She winced at his vulgar language but nodded, “I’ve never been with a man, in any way.”

Tears were back to her cheeks again at her humiliating confession. She knew it was her last hope and if he didn’t have mercy on her because of that then nothing was going to stop what he was about to do to her.

“Never?” He asked again, circling around her just to see her tremble under his starved gaze.

“Never,” she whispered, feeling as uncomfortable as never before.

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you all the tricks,” the orc chuckled, playing with her hair and she could all but sob again, "I'm only half orc after all".

Was that supposed to be comforting?!

It just made her sob harder.

“What did I say about crying?”

“Please let me go.” She begged, body shaking with her sobs.

“No.”

“W—Why not? I’ll give you all I have if you let me out of here. Anything you want. Please.” She cried and pled although she knew she had nothing to give him.

“I have all I want right here.” He leaned forward to smell her hair, his huge arm squeezing her side almost gently.

If she wasn’t so terrified of what was to come next she would’ve seen the way he was looking at her like she was the most precious thing he has ever seen in his miserable life. Like she was an actual trophy that only he was lucky enough to win.

“Please—”

“40 seconds, little human,” he warned, his face scary and showing nothing but impatience and anger.

There was no way out of this, was there? The door was too far and even if she managed to get out, he would easily catch her and who knows what he’d do to her then. At least he’s asking ‘nicely’ for now. Nice enough for a rough snow orc with a metal arm.

Her hands couldn’t stop shaking as she grabbed her pullover and just stood there fiddling.

“Could— could you look the other way, please?” she pleaded, her eyes too ashamed to meet his.

The orc huffed before giving her his back and allowing her these few seconds of privacy.

He thought it was ridiculous though because he was going to turn around and see her anyway, but decided he’d try and be understanding just because it was her first night with him.

“You’re not wearing that many clothes,” he complained after a minute and she whimpered behind him.

He took it as his cue to turn around and when he did she was as naked as the day she was born, holding the large sweater to her chest, trying to cover up.

“Let me see you now, come on,” the orc cooed, licking his lips at the sight of what was exposed of her before slowly pulling the item of clothing out of her death grip.

She stood there shivering from both cold and fear, shyness gnawing at her insides as the brute’s eyes skimmed down every nude inch of her.

Hell, she was beautiful. Goddesses had nothing on his bride.

“Now why would you hide such beauty from me, hmm?” He bit his lip, taking her hand in his larger one, “come here.”

She choked on another whimper as he forced her closer to his body. She could feel the heat radiating off of his chest and it made her shiver more.

The orc’s rough palms massaged her arms before settling on her bare hips, holding her close to him.

“The name’s Bucky, just so you know what to scream,” he whispered in her ear, softly kissing the spot behind her earlobe.

He felt her tense in his hold and tried to ignore the way it made him feel.

“Please,” she tried one more time but swallowed the rest of her words when Bucky’s face showed irritation.

“I’m sure I can make you cry and beg just fine, little human. Stop wasting both outside of bed,” he told her, his voice firm and authoritative, making her wipe her tears away at once.

“Speaking of the bed, go lay down for me, will you, sweet thing?”

His soft tone scared her more than his harsh one and she didn’t know what was real. It still felt like a nightmare that she would wake up from any moment.

Every muscle in her body was taut, tense with anxiety. Her face burned with disgrace from being exposed like this for the first time in her life and not willingly either.

This wasn’t how her first time was supposed to be. She shouldn’t be forced into it, let alone with an enormous half orc who had no feelings for her and neither she for him.

She desperately wanted to cry it out, but squeezed her eyes shut before she could so Bucky wouldn’t scold her again.

He climbed on top of her, caging her legs between his as his muscly arms framed her head, supporting himself up.

It might’ve been her mind trying to calm her down, but she didn’t think she saw Bucky looking at her with lust. She was expecting to see nothing in his eyes but hunger, like a ravenous beast would look at a piece of meat, but instead she could see… admiration?

Bucky wanted to kiss her but thought against it and pressed his lips to her cheek instead, letting them travel down to her jaw so he could reach her neck.

“Please go easy on me,” she whispered her plea when she felt Bucky’s ‘thing’ poke around her naked thighs.

He was big. So big.

Even if she had had sex before this night, she knew no man could have been enough preparation for the size she was making him out to be.

Bucky didn’t reply, letting his lips kiss and suck on her neck and when he pressed them to her pulse point, he felt like shit about himself.

Her heart was beating like crazy, pounding so hard it must’ve hurt inside her chest.

She didn’t want it at all. She was clearly scared and if her heart was hammering like that he could only feel bad for making her do this.

Bucky pulled away to look at her, her eyes were shut tight, her body trembling still and her fists closed up by her sides as she desperately tried to regulate her breathing.

He let his hand touch her tummy and she quivered but didn’t try to move away. He kissed between her breasts and she whimpered in fear, quickly biting her lip after.

Bucky took a deep breath before gliding his hand up her leg, watching as she her teeth almost drew blood from her lower lip as she bit down hard to prevent herself from crying, panting through her nose.

When he reached her inner thighs she was digging her fingernails in her palms so hard she was sure she’d hurt herself.

Bucky tried to be gentle as he slowly slipped a thick finger up further to touch the cut of her.

She whimpered again but Bucky didn’t stop, dipping the tip of his finger in just a little bit to feel her. He could see her trying so hard not to close her legs as her thighs shook and she started nearly gasping, her eyes still tightly closed.

Bucky swiped his finger between her lips and she was dry as a desert.

She wasn’t wet for him at all. She wasn’t anything but petrified. Nothing about her told him that she wanted this.

Bucky took his hand away and sat back, letting out a sigh as he ran his big hand through his hair.

He didn’t care what the humans of the kingdom thought about him, he knew he wasn’t actually a monster. He thought he could do it even if she didn’t want it, but he couldn’t. He thought it was enough if he wanted and knew how to do it, but it wasn’t.

He knew he didn’t need love to make babies, nor did he need her agreement. But Bucky just couldn’t hurt her, not like that.

He could get her wet enough with his tongue, but he couldn’t find it in himself to force her into this, not on their first night and not in a million years.

He couldn’t set her up for a war she would lose with her own body when her heart and mind wanted nothing to do with him. He knew how big he was; he knew it would be torture for her if she didn’t want it.

Bucky hated that she looked so scared of him. He didn’t want to scare her further. Maybe at first he'd found it amusing, but for some reason that wasn’t the case anymore.

The way she was hiccupping and trembling under him was anything but a turn on.

He couldn’t go through with this.

“Get dressed,” Bucky said as he got up from the bed, pulling his own pants up his thick thighs, ignoring his hard cock.

“W-what?” She opened her eyes, her eyelashes wet with unshed tears as she stared at him blankly.

Was she imagining this?

“Now, before I change my mind.” He really didn’t like repeating himself.

“O-okay! Thank you.” She hated that he made her stutter so much.

Bucky gave her his back, putting his own sweater back on and she got up quickly, nearly stumbling off the bed as she reached for her underwear and slipped it on. Her pullover was next and when her head was through, she noticed Bucky standing by the door, watching her.

She went to grab her shoes but Bucky’s chuckle stopped her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, making her unsure again.

“Getting my shoes?”

“I can see you. Why?”

“So— uh.. so you could take me back?”

“Take you back where exactly?” He folded his arms again and she felt nervous as she swallowed, coming to learn that this was probably not a good sign.

“To the orphanage? I mean, you’re letting me go, right?” She sounded so hopeful, he hated it.

“No.” His definitive answer shattered her hopes.

“What? Why not?” She started to tear up again and Bucky found himself turning his eyes away from her distressed ones.

“You’re my wife, that’s why.”

“But it isn’t supposed to be me! Marry someone else!” She screamed, tears streaming down her face.

“But it’s you I have here. I don’t want anyone else. You’re my mate now.”

Mate? What was he talking about?! They didn’t know each other! And she wasn’t an animal!

“But you’re not mine!”

“I will never let you go and that’s the end of it.” Bucky’s growl shut her right up.

She stared at him in horror and maybe even contempt, but Bucky didn’t care.

“But you said get dressed,” she cried out her disappointment because she really thought he had had mercy on her and was letting her go, but it seemed like he only decided to postpone her torture instead.

“Don’t try to leave because I’ll find you anyway and if I don’t, well, you’d probably be eaten,” he told her, ignoring her comment before grabbing his axe and a lamp.

“Where are you going?” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

She might hate him but that didn’t mean she wanted him to leave her alone in the middle of nowhere.

“Gonna go get some more wood to get us through the night. There’s food and water in the kitchen.” She nodded and he opened the door and stepped out.

“B-Bucky?” It was the first time she said his name since the night started and the orc had no idea his name could sound so sweet.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you anyway,” she said, her hushed tone grateful yet laced with sadness.

Bucky only nodded before shutting the door behind him, locking it from the outside.

Bucky found himself slamming his axe down on the wood more vigorously than usual. He had a lot inside of him and it had to be released. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way she cried and bit back sobs at his touch.

What’s happened to him? Bucky loved nothing more than scaring these pretentious humans of the kingdom! He found incomparable joy in the way they would cower down before his intense gaze whenever he would growl or flex his left arm. He had no problem talking them down, taunting them or even threatening them. So why on earth was it so difficult for him to continue to be like that to her?!

Why did he care so much all of sudden?! Why was it so hard for him to continue to be hard on her?! She seemed like someone who would follow orders just fine. Why didn’t he give her some?

Bucky picked her because she caught his eye. Because he deserved her. He deserved a bride and a family after all that he’d lost while fighting the kingdom’s people’s fights for them. It was the least they could gift him in return. A woman, a new life.

Another growl left Bucky’s chest as he slammed his axe down again.

He couldn’t go back to the cottage with a hard cock. He only had so much control. He needed to get it all out now.

This was going to be hard.

She continued to cry after Bucky was gone. She wasn’t really thankful he didn’t rape her when he could have, she just didn’t want to fall under his wrath had she tried to argue further.

She was always so scared, of everyone and everything. Always bending to the storm and never fighting back. And look where that had gotten her…. A cast out orc’s wife.

Was that really how her fate was drawn? Was that what was meant for her after so many lonely years in the orphanage?

Her thoughts were cut off by the sound of the key turning followed by the cottage’s door being kicked.

She swallowed the rest of her whimpers as she watched Bucky’s arms enter first, a bunch of cut wood in them.

He was so strong. She was sure he could crush her skull with his bare hands if he wanted to. The thought alone sent yet another shiver down her spine.

Bucky kicked the door closed before walking to the fireplace and setting the wood pieces beside it. He put some inside to keep the fire alive before getting up and looking at her with a look she couldn’t pin down.

“Have you been sitting here the whole time?” Bucky asked her upon noticing how she was curled up on the floor next to the bed, her face streaked with dried tears and her nose and lips swollen.

“Y-yes.” Her voice was hoarse from the constant sobbing.

“You didn’t eat anything?”

She shook her head and Bucky sighed loudly.

He walked to the kitchen and she could hear a fridge being opened. Then a match was lit and something metal sat down on the stove.

A few minutes later Bucky was coming out of his kitchen with a large glass of warm milk. He looked at her as he put the glass on the table.

“I put honey in there to help soothe your throat.”

“I- I don’t want to. Thank y—”

“Come here and drink your milk.” One glare and she was scrambling to the only seat on the table before the steaming glass.

“Don’t leave one single drop in there,” he told her before walking to the wooden closet in the corner.

Bucky got himself something clean and comfy to wear as well as a towel.

“I’m gonna go clean up,” he informed her in case she needed to go to the bathroom but she only nodded so he went on his way.

She watched the door to the bathroom shut and let out the breath she was holding before standing up.

Walking around the room, she found a stack of papers on the smaller table by the window. One was their marriage certificate that she hasn’t even gotten the choice whether or not to sign. She thought about throwing it in the fire, but it would likely cause her more problems than she would want to handle at the moment. Under it was what looked like a contract that they made this orc sign. Her chest tightened and tears pricked her eyes again.

It wasn’t enough that they gave her to a stranger, but they’d handed her out to an exiled orc, signing contracts to close their deal of selling her. What had she done to anyone to ever deserve this?

The room was suddenly too quiet when she looked around again. The milk before her looked tempting and she was hungry, but the door looked better and she was entrapped.

She slowly walked closer as she could hear water running inside the bathroom and when she twisted the handle, the door opened. Just like that. Bucky had forgotten to lock it and now was her chance.

The thunder cracked outside once more as if in warning, but she didn’t pay it any mind. It was now or never.

Part II

Tag List:

@harrysthiccthighss @tinystudentfirepurse @lavendercitizen @tumblin-theworldaway @pretty-pop-princess-hs @lilymurphy03 @idontwannagomrstarkk @glxwingrxse @littlelioncub43 @mathletemadison @canned-rootbear @pandaxnienke @loveisallyouneed1125 @floral-recs @littlemoonkiller @hallecarey1 @vespasianphantom @vicmc624 @winters1917 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @blkmystery @millercontracting @trappedwriter @am-3-thyst @obsessedwithquinn @sydnielauryn @alittlerayof-pitchblack @olipiaa @peterparkersgirl-blog @buckybarnessweetheart @thealyrs @colorfulbluebirdpainter @stuckysgirl27 @ihavetwoholesforareason @princess-bee0 @pastel-noah168 @steeph-aniie @buckitostan @onthr-dream @sapphirebarnes @123iloveyou456 @ciaqui @lindasweetie

536 notes · View notes

qierxing · 10 months ago

Text

Farewell to Thee?

A/N: (checks last post time stamp) Oopsie. (drops this in front of yall like a bag of groceries and fades into the distance)

Yan! Twst Isekai AU

CW/TW: the Mouse is Real™, graphic descriptions of bodily fluids/injuries, assault and kidnapping Pt. 3 Oh Woe is Me... | Pt. 4

◇ Continue

[Loading…]

“..llo?"

"Hello?"

"Hellooo?”

Out of the wispy fog comes a familiar voice. It echoes on and on, fading into a whisper. The tenure worms into your brain as you struggle back into consciousness. And as your eyes open and focus, your brain finally recognizes who is calling out.

“...Mickey?” You respond quietly in disbelief. “Mickey!”

“[First]!” The reunion, however unexpected, is still relieving. You never thought you would be so happy to see the cartoony mouse again. But…

“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, huh?” He chirps, walking up to your side. “I’ve been trying all sorts of things to get here, even trying to change my pajamas before sleeping too, heh…”

“So…this is a dream?” You ask hesitantly. Mickey smiles up at you, unaware of your inner turmoil.

“Must be! This is quite unexpected, I usually only see your head and shoulders, not your whole body.”

That makes sense, in a way. Only white nothingness surrounds you. Although you two are striding forward in a sense of strolling, you can’t make heads or tails on whether you’re actually walking somewhere.

“Normally I’d ask to take your picture but I don’t have my special camera.” You wryly smile in response. Did you succeed with your plan? Interactions with Mickey was usually out of the player’s hands…did you force a connection when you caused a game over?

“That’s a right shame. I was so looking forward to it since you mentioned it last visit.” Mickey sighs with a playful pout. It then changes to something more somber as he gazes up at you.

“[First], I’m glad to have met you again, but be careful.” You stop in your tracks at the warning.

“I sensed some dark aura around you when we first met. It’s gotten even stronger this time.” Mickey explains, worried eyes examining you. “Please be careful.”

“Wh-what do you mean…?” Your mouth runs dry. Something prickles in the back of your head, and to your panic, the vision of Mickey starts fading away, images blurring.

“M…time….up….watch…” his last words hover in the air as you frantically reach out to him.

“M-Mickey?!” You fumble around, trying to reach out to him, but come up with air.

“Damn it!” You scream, impatient rage blinding your sight.

Just when you’re so close to getting an answer out of this damn game! You just wanted to go home! Was that such a sin?

The prickling in your head grows stronger and you grow lightheaded, collapsing in on yourself. You look up to see a bright glowing menu.

[True Ending has not been unlocked]

>⬛⬛⬛⬛ Key has not been obtained.

>Continue?

–

[Loading…]

Your cheeks feel sticky.

It feels so gross. The smell of iron and rust floods your nose and makes your eyes fly open. Your fingernails scrape the substance as you push yourself off the cold floor. When you hold it up to your bleary eyes, you can see blood and dirt flaking under your nails. Your entire front is also soaked in blood and saliva. The disgusting sight makes you cringe.

The ground underneath your body shakes. You regard the pool of blood, tears, and snot underneath you with a gaze not fully aware. You’re… in Twisted Wonderland?

Screaming? There’s people yelling somewhere, and it’s making your head hurt. You groan, raising your dirtied hand to steady your forehead.

What happened…?

"Easy, Trickster." A warm voice envelopes your ear. Suddenly, the scent of mint and petrichor overtakes your senses. Verdant green eyes peer down at you with relief.

“R…Rook?” The voice that comes out of you doesn’t feel like you. Someone else speaking in your body, like a ventriloquist. “H-How…?”

“[First]!” Grim flings himself into your face, adding to the pool of snot and mucus. It’s okay though. You hug him tightly, curling in on yourself, trying to absorb the warmth Grim gives.

The others come and swarm you; trying to check in on you, but you don’t respond to their numerous worried inquiries, drained of all your energy. Something catches your ear though.

“Oh, we were so worried! When Neige told us you got accidentally poisoned, we couldn’t take you to the infirmary right away–thank Seven Rook was there!” Kalim clasps your hands tenderly, not minding the gross slew of fluids getting on his hands.

Poisoned? How was I poisoned…?

A knife sharp pain slices through your brain when you try to recall what happened. You were with Neige…and then? Everything after that was all coming out as static noise.

“Prefect.”

You know who it is without looking. What a sight. How could Vil Schoenheit look this disheveled? Blonde greasy hair that is out of place, skin hollowed and pale with scratches, and bloodshot lavender eyes. He looks worse than you on death’s door.

"Vil…?" You gaze at him with empty confusion, unsure of why your heart drops at the sight of him. "Did…did something happen?"

Vil's eyes narrow but then close in resignation. Epel takes over, eyes wide in earnest. "Vil had an overblot, so we had to wrangle him back to normal."

Overblot…right…that's what supposed to happen, right?

Why…was that supposed to happen?

"Forgive me, Trickster. If only I had reached there faster with Monsieur Al-Asim…" Rook hums, surprisingly sincere. "Roi du Poison's madness and obsession…even when he had overblotted…how wonderfully beautiful it all was. The ink swirling around him, his stature…"

You shiver as his gaze rakes into yours.

"But, mon amour, you must not do that again, oui?" He leans in, lips ghosting over your ear and your blood freezes. What does he…?

"What a fine mess this is. What are we going to do now?" Ace drawls, eyes scanning behind him. Your eyes follow where he's looking and wince at the now destroyed colosseum. Debris and rocks flung everywhere, banners ripped to shreds, and electronics fried beyond repair.

For some reason, you feel calm despite the scene before you. As if…

"Well, well, if this isn't a sight."

Malleus.

Nothing registers until his gaze falls on you, and you swear his eyes glow for a fraction of a second.

"What have we here?" The question echoes and everyone looks nervously around at each other. “I arrive early to find not a single person and a stage laid to waste.”

You can only muster a sheepish grin in response. That's right. Malleus could fix this all up in a flash, no problem.

“Hornton, thank goodness you’re here!” Dried blood cracks on the edges of your smiling lips. “We could really use some help-”

“HORNTON?” You wince at the cacophonous pitch of everyone yelling. Rook is tactful enough to shield your ears but it only did so much to keep your eardrums from ringing. While Grim realizes who Hornton is, everyone else is flustered, attempting to explain the weight of his identity to the two of you.

You don’t need it though. His magic is enough of a demonstration as he winds back time and repairs the stage in moments. With that, the NRC group’s spirit and morale is renewed and once again, they’re raring to prove themselves to RSA.

The only thing that didn’t change is you.

Malleus gingerly carries you in his arms while Grim worriedly looks up at you. While they were reluctant to continue without you, even they were not foolish enough to let you go without urgent medical treatment.

You managed to stay conscious long enough to hear Malleus talking with the school medics and Grim muttering about stones before the dull ache in your throat and stomach forced you into an uneasy slumber.

–

The vestiges of a strange dream about mice and keys linger in your mind as you blink away the sleep in your eyes.

Evening has fallen, the only light coming from the dim lanterns the office has set up for patients. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can make out silhouettes of curtains and several items on the table near you.

Snacks from Ace and Deuce, herbal medicine from Vil, and colorful flowers by Kalim (you’re sure Jamil was the reason why it was not mountains of flower bouquets). The gestures are enough to make you weakly smile before it drops into a frown.

You turn to scan the room, and find no signs of life.

Did Grim leave?

An uneasiness begins to settle in your chest and you try to quash it. Maybe he just went to use the bathroom. Or if the staff made him leave, maybe he returned to Ramshackle. Anxiety begins to creep through your mind as the seconds tick by on the clock above the doorway.

Screw it.

You slip off the duvet covers and although the feeling of cold tiles on your bare feet is almost enough to make you give up, you push through and leave the room in the direction of Ramshackle.

Soon, the familiar sight of the Seven’s statues come into the horizon and cobblestones turn into granite tiles underneath your feet. Something makes you pause, however. Like a feeling of deja vu, you wonder why you feel like you’ve been in this situation before.

A growl shakes through the underbrush and you whirl to see the devil tips of a tail thrashing through leaves. Your heart jumps to your throat.

Grim!

The next thing you see is glowing blue eyes and a mouth full of sharp teeth and dripping black saliva. You stumble back partially in disgust at the sight and partially from fear. What happened to your friend?!

“Grrr…mine…you can’t…” His words are hardly decipherable, making you furrow your eyebrows in concern.

“Grim!”

He’s already descended into a rabid, feral monster. Your calls only anger him, and his eyes thin into needle thin slits. He bares his teeth again and you steel yourself.

Letting out a guttural roar, he pounces and you narrowly dodge and avoid getting shredded by jagged claws.

You will not lose your friend here. You can’t. Not when–

A fleeting vision flashed in your mind: pitch black ink surrounding your feet, before finally flowing away and hardening into a condensed mass. Your head immediately is wracked in red hot spasms, causing you to keel over in pain. What is…

Unfortunately, this leaves you open to Grim’s next strike, and his attack throws both of you off balance. The impact sends you into the grass and it’s only when your back hits a tree trunk that you shriek out loud. Your fragile medical gown is torn through by his claws, leaving bloody gashes upon your midsection.

The excruciating pain is enough for feverish tears to run down your cheeks and your vision to start blurring as Grim growls again, no doubt readying to finish what he started.

“G-Grim…”

Your vision darkens, and your world goes silent.

–

A heart wrenching scream rouses you awake.

“[FIRST]!!”

The sound of whistling wind blows in your ears and instinctively you shiver. As your eyes blearily crack open, a gray figure comes into focus.

Grim is hunched over you, shaking your body with tears in his eyes. The both of you seem to be…flying? What?

“Subject F and Y secured. Waiting for other units’ reports.” A cold robotic voice drones above you. You force your head up and see a tall robot donning armor and wielding a formidable looking oar like weapon. As your eyes adjusted against the strong breeze, you realized you and Grim were trapped in a steel cage.

In the distance, your ears faintly pick up explosions and deep rumbling.

“[FIRST]?!”

Both you and Grim turn to see Ace and Deuce gaping up at you from the forest floor below. You open your mouth, but your voice doesn’t come out.

“All targets have been secured. All units fall back and return.”

“No!” Grim yowls. “My henchman, they’re hurt! Someone, help–!!”

But his screeching goes unheeded by your stoney captors. And although you swear you hear familiar voices calling back, the robots are undeterred and whisk you both away easily.

The last thing you see is the shattered ruins of a barrier and a school left in burned pieces.

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #my works

435 notes · View notes

jaehaeryshater · 4 months ago

Text

Illustration from Septon Barth’s novel ‘Dragon, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History.’ The image depicts Vhagar proudly presenting her hatchlings to her mate Balerion, circa 35 AC. The hatchlings are identified by Barth as Sheepstealer, Cannibal, Vermithor, and two she-dragons that remained nameless, as they died before bonding and being named by any Targaryen. ‘The Black Dread’, as he was called, invoked fear in the hearts of not only people, but other dragons as well, and his hatchlings are depicted cowering from him, though he meant them no harm. All except Vermithor, who easily became familiar with his father, which greatly pleased Vhagar. This depiction was later called into question for being propaganda for Jaehaerys’s rule and exceptionalism, but the truth remains unknown.

art by: @ra-horakhty-art

Recently, I promised a sweet Balerion, Vhagar, and family artwork and I (and the artist ofc) have delivered! You might have seen the artist post this already, but I wanted to post it on my blog as well because I’m so proud of the piece. My vision going in was for it not to be depicted just as an artwork for us in the real world, but also presented with a storybook feel, with the added lore that it’s supposed to be an illustration from one of the histories in A Song of Ice And Fire. I tried to take into account not just popular depictions of the dragons, nor House of the Dragon, but specifically from the text and from art that GRRM himself has commissioned. Because of this, Vhagar is bronze-greenish instead of her standard green. After hearing @francy-sketches theory that Vhagar, for lack of a better term, oxidized with age and became green as she got older, I decided I liked that interpretation and have depicted her as green in artwork of her once she gets older, and this color when she’s relatively young. I‘m a bit biased but I do think it looks beautiful and exactly how I wanted it, book accurate and something you could imagine actually seeing in a Westerosi history book.

My main motivator in these dragon arts, as I’ve stated before, is to explore the nature of dragons, not as weapons of war or in context of the Targaryens, but as mythical animals. They’re not quite like lizards, but also can’t be held to the same standards as people. In most dragon lore, they often act like mammals but are physically reptiles. Most stories involving dragons have the creatures caring for their young and maintaining a bond with their mate, so for lack of anything on the subject from GRRM, I take it upon myself to feed my headcanons. I find it sweet to depict times where Vhagar was not lonely, nor being used in war. It adds another element of tragedy, that these dragons did not have to fight each other but were made to anyway. On a happier note, is it not so so sweet how the hatchlings here are so comfortable with their mom to protect them, they’re cowering under her and climbing on her wings because they trust her. My favorite is Sheepstealer on her wing, that’s adorable to me. And Vermithor, I did mean for that to be true instead of just propaganda, but I couldn’t help adding a little Jaehaerys slander. But Vermithor is still a very brave boy and wants to be just like his father when he grows big and strong! Cannibal, on the other hand, is scared out of his mind, all these anxieties and being forced around other dragons caused him to fly away and isolate himself (in my mind).

It was such a pleasure to work with @ra-horakhty-art, they were super accommodating and worked easily with my ideas. The process was super fast and easy on my end, he works hard and quickly so I was absolutely impressed.

#fire and blood #house of the dragon #hotd #vhagar #balerion #vermithor #sheepstealer #cannibal the dragon #valyrianscrolls #fanart #dragons #dragonposting

180 notes · View notes

puck-luck · 2 months ago

Note

Ooh omg congrats on the 1K!!

I would like to request 5 of clubs with Jack Hughes please. (Maybe with an exhibition kink 🙈)

This isn't quite as clubs-like or exhibitionist, but I've been feeling slightly out of the mood today (I think because I had to make a lesson about the American relationship with Native Americans during colonization... not the most uplifting topic). Hoping for something better tomorrow!

Also I'm watching a 2.5 hour video essay about One Direction's history right now. I love that people can make whatever content they want, and they usually give it their all :)

after typing that i'm realizing that statement is really meta since i'm writing nhl fanfic. sigh. ok fine i guess i enjoy my own content whatever

Warnings: fingering, exhibition, Paul Mescal in Gladiator II WC: 592

You’ve never been one to keep trivial secrets from Jack. He’s your boyfriend and you are thoroughly against miscommunication. Your openness has resulted in plenty of fun jokes for Jack, the latest of which has landed you in your current predicament. You’re in the bougie movie theater that Jack always splurges on, sitting in a plush recliner and watching Gladiator II. Jack thought this would be a fun date night, because– well– you love Paul Mescal.

It’s something about his nose. It’s very Roman, which you find sexy. Jack knows this, and knows that you’ve particularly enjoyed the costume design of the film, even joking with you about dressing up like a gladiator for Halloween.

He hadn’t mentioned it again until this morning, which is when he told you that he’d bought some tickets for the film. It had actually been out for a while now, so the theater is relatively empty, but you’d never had the time to see the movie. Jack, after all, had wanted to see it with you… probably because he wanted to pull something like this.

He knows that Paul Mescal is your celebrity crush. You’ve been repeating that to yourself since you realized that it’s the motivation behind Jack’s movements. His touch had been casual at first, just tapping his fingers against your thigh. He’d convinced you to wear a skirt by claiming you’d be going to dinner afterward. You expect that his real reason is that he wanted easy access.

His fingers are inside of you now, petting over your walls. He’s teasing you, moving slowly when Paul Mescal isn’t on screen and thrusting into you at a quicker pace when your crush graces your vision with his presence. Jack also particularly likes drawing circles over your clit as he moves inside you, constantly keeping you on the edge.

“Jack,” you hiss, ready to try and convince him to stop, even though you only half-want his movements to cease. You’re flushing a bit, eyes darting around the theater to make sure no one is watching you. There are only a few other groups in the theater: another couple two rows ahead, a group of university-aged girls near the middle of the theater, two middle aged women in the front row. All in all, there are less than fifteen people in this theater.

“Be quiet, baby. I can’t have everyone hearing you,” Jack murmurs. He shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth, continuing his movements. He’s acting completely normal, even as your cunt squeezes him tight.

You bring your hand down and clutch his wrist, trying to halt his movements.

Jack turns to you. “Do you really want me to stop?” He asks quietly. Paul Mescal starts speaking on the screen and Jack’s eyes flicker away from you to check the screen. His thumb increases its pace against your clit and his fingers flex rapidly inside of you.

You whimper a bit, clenching down involuntarily. Your knuckles turn white while your fingers grip his arm. Your hips jolt.

Jack quirks an eyebrow.

“No,” you admit, loosening your grip and allowing him to continue.

“Just pay attention to Paul,” Jack encourages, smirking at you and brushing a kiss against your cheek. “I’m just here to help you along, baby.”

You scoff quietly, cringing a bit at his words.

Jack clocks your reaction, his face breaking out in a tiny smile. He giggles to himself, tracing the line of your jaw before mouthing against your throat. “Don’t laugh. We’re having fun. You, me, and your other boyfriend.”

#puck-luck's 1k celebration #andy writes anything🍄#jack hughes #jack hughes smut #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes blurb #jh86 #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #hockey smut

99 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

Text

Home Away From Home 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, jealousy, mentions of loss, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki, Peter Parker (tall!reader)

Summary: You’ve been friends with the Odinsons since childhood. After years of separation, you reunite on Midgard after the destruction of Asgard, but find yourself caught between your old and new lives.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“That was so cool when you threw me,” Peter nearly hops to keep up with you. He might be small but he is fast. He is big in spirit. “And then I hit that guy with the elbow drop. Just like Macho Man.”

“Macho Man?” You repeat curiously. “He is a friend of yours?”

“Ha, no,” he shakes his head. “He was a wrestler. Real famous.”

“A wrestler? I wrestle too! In Asgard, we always do so after a big feast.” You explain.

“Really? Like you have a ring?” He asks.

“Ring?”

“Yeah, like where would you wrestle?”

“On the floor...” you squint at him. His hair is still tussled and he still wears his funny red suit.

“Mm,” he hums and nods. “You wrestled Thor?"

“Oh, many times but he is a difficult adversary.”

“What about Loki?” He wonders.

“Once or twice, but only when he imbibed overly much. He thinks it’s unseemly,” you say. “Though I think it is because he doesn’t like to lose.”

“Probably,” Peter snorts. “Would you wrestle me?”

It’s your turn to laugh, “that’s very amusing to think of but I think we are outmatched.”

“I can hold my own. You’ve seen me fight,” he argues.

“Yes, I have, which is why I am deferring,” you say. “I’m afraid I’m known for my brute strength rather than my speed. I couldn’t keep up with you, dor-dígull.”

“Hm, okay, well, I guess you’ve never seen Midgardian wrestling, have you?” He asks.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Ooh, I can show you my favourite matches,” he chimes excitedly. “I bet they're way more flashy than your Asgardian ones.”

“Show me?”

“Yeah, I have the videos. You know, we have wrestling shows,” he explains.

“Ah, yes, the living pictures. I want to see it.” You agree.

“Awesome. How about tonight? I’ll get us snacks.” He offers.

You stop and face him. The rest of the team goes about their business without notice. You’re happy that they don’t seem to mind you. Especially since Thor couldn’t be there. Peter helped you feel a little less out of place.

“Tonight,” you agree with a coy look.

You don’t know much about Midgardians but you’ve been learning and you think you know what he’s asking. You’re not appalled at the idea. You’re even a bit flattered. He might not be built like an Asgardian but he is formidable nonetheless.

“I’ll text you,” he grins.

“And I will try to respond to your text,” you affirm.

“Awesome!” He exclaims then calms himself, smoothing his hair. “You know, it’ll, uh, be fun.”

“I’m certain it will,” you nod. “I should go report back to my people.”

“Tell Thor I said hi? Oh, and Loki too,” he says.

“Certainly,” you agree. You leave him as he runs after the blond-haired Captain and the man with the dark mop on his head and the black metal arm.

You can’t deny your own excitement. Since Asgard turned to cinder and you became a refugee, since even before that, you’ve not had much opportunity to indulge in anything careless. You could do with a release.

You weave your way through the tower. It hasn’t lost its shine. Everything is sleek and refined in that Midgardian fashion. And the people in their straight-cut clothing and tall shoes are amusing. You might go and find some of those for yourself.

As you come into the lobby, a green flicker limns the edge of your vision.

You sigh, “Loki, where’ve you been?” You ask.

“I assure you I've been doing more important things than playing games with Midgardian pretenders,” Loki drones.

“We did good, Loki. We helped people in a big sandy place called Ar-i-zon-a,” you pronounce it deliberately. “You needn’t be bitter.”

“I’m not bitter. You always were so presumptuous. You act as if you know me to the bone.”

“I admit, Loki, I don’t know you as well as I once did,” you shrug as you push through the glass doors. “I don’t think anyone does, but if you gave anyone a chance...” You suggest. “Have you talked to any of the people? The women here are rather attractive.”

“Women?” He spits. “I will not be languishing in the arms of a mortal.”

“Or the men? It might do you well. To release the levee,” you nudge him with your elbow.

“I don’t need—quiet. You shouldn’t speak of such things to a prince,” he hisses.

“No, not anymore?” You wonder. “As right as ever, my prince, I do not know you as I once did. You should find one of those things... a hobby?”

“I read,” he sniffs. “But their literature is so simplistic.”

“Mm, they have sport. Oh, the little spider told me they have wrestling. They have shows you could watch. Or you could join in?”

“These flimsy men would break,” he insists.

“There are others here. In New Asgard. You could ask them.”

“I don’t want to wrestle. It is a drunkard’s sport.”

“Hm, yes, you were never much on it. Well, they have living pictures,” you point to one of the big signs on the side of the building. “You like theatre.”

He huffs again. His defiance is irritating. As if anything you say will be wrong. He does that often to his brother. Well, you are not Thor and you will not let him spoil your day.

“I will let you figure it out upon your own, then, for surely I know not of what I speak,” you say. “I hope that do find something to keep busy tonight.”

“Tonight? You speak as if you are going somewhere? I thought we could find some activity. You seem more acquainted with this cursed place than I.” He says.

“I am occupied. If you do not like the living pictures, they have stages, you could get a ticket,” you suggest. “Or perhaps you could ask your brother.”

“I’d rather a crow pluck my eyes out.” He sneers.

I’d rather one did too, you think to yourself. You stop and face him. You show your hands helplessly.

“Tomorrow, prince. When I can avail myself to you, we will go around the city. There is a market I wish to peruse.”

He stares at you dully, “fine. I suppose I can wait.”

“You never struggled to amuse yourself,” you retort. “I’ve got to get going.”

“You do? Where?” He asks.

“I am no longer a ward of the crown,” you say. “I needn’t say.”

“But I am asking,” he growls.

You laugh, “you have not changed so much as you think.”

You grin and spin away, strutting down the sidewalk. His sigh evaporates into another green hue at your back. You’ll deal with him tomorrow, once you’ve dislodged the thorn he’s poked into your side.

#loki #peter parker #dark loki #dark peter parker #dark!loki #dark!peter parker #loki x reader #peter parker x reader #series #drabble #home away from home #mcu #marvel #thor #avengers #spider-man

106 notes · View notes

joelsprettyprincess · 16 days ago

Text

Taming of the Shrew - Part 2

Pairing: dark!Arthur Morgan x f!reader Summary: Although you've ended your relationship with Arthur, he gets you to agree to one final rendezvous. Series-wide tags: Toxic relationships, manipulation, obsessive behavior, smut, secretly unprotected piv, babytrapping, pregnancy, canon-typical violence, slight canon-typical misogyny. Wordcount: 3.7k A/N: I was not expecting that much love on part 1! I'm so glad yall enjoyed! Here's part 2 and where things get juicy 🤭. And before you ask, yes they had condoms in 1899!! They just weren't very good.. Also, I do not profess to be an expert on pregnancy, I just looked things up and hoped for the best. 😭 Sorry if anything's inaccurate. This chapter contains smut. And as always MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Tags: @dandelion-ranch @i-will-give-you-love @amaranth-writing @heloixe @buneio @warmsideofthepillow03 @thoughts-of-bear @luzzbuzz

Part 1 Part 3

Several days had passed since you told Arthur to never speak to you again.

You didn’t mean it. You couldn’t have. Your love, though short, had burned like a phoenix: though it was currently snuffed, Arthur knew it would soon rise again.

He knew better than to approach you again, though. So he wrote a letter.

My love.

My darling, my princess. I am in pain while writing this. Not because of any physical injury, but because I miss you badly indeed. My heart burns for you, for your touch, your skin on mine, even just one last time.

I am certain you feel the same way. If you do, please meet me at our spot near Ringneck Creek at noon next Monday.

I swear this will be the last time I will contact you. If you don’t show, I’ll know your decision is final. However I know you will. I know our love was something real. Please don’t make a fool of me.

Forever yours,

Arthur

Arthur posted the letter on a Monday, giving you nearly a full week to make a decision. He was on edge after that, wondering if you would actually show. Would you bring your father, or even a bounty hunter, to capture him? Or would you just not show at all?

Thankfully most everyone in camp left him alone; the news of your loud departure had spread fast. There was the occasional ribbing from Micah, but he was like a mosquito buzzing in everyone’s face. Arthur paid him no mind.

Dutch told him it was a waste of time.

“Women are a complete mystery, son,” he told him Sunday night, puffing on his cigar. “Trust me, you’re better off being single forever.” He didn’t seem to care that Molly was behind him in the tent, hopefully sleeping.

But he didn’t know the inner workings of Arthur’s mind. Didn’t know what he planned to do.

Monday morning, he bathed and trimmed his beard. As much as he hated to admit it, Arthur was nervous.

He scoffed. Headshotting O’Driscolls barely raised his heart rate, but the thought of seeing you again had him jumpy like that Kieran boy.

Arthur rode over to the spot early. It was a good isolated spot a little ways away from the creek, where you two had slept together a couple times.

He spread down a blanket and cleaned his guns while he waited for you.

About half an hour later, he heard the crunching of leaves and turned around. Your familiar form entered his field of vision; suddenly, Arthur was breathless.

You were here. You’d actually come. And you appeared to be alone.

You hitched your horse next to his, then came down to the blanket. “Hey,” you said, smiling softly.

“Yes, well.” You smoothed your skirts. “Just can’t help m’self, I suppose. But listen, Arthur…this is the last time I’m seeing you. Seriously. I don’t even know why I came here–”

Arthur pulled you down beside him. “You came.” He cleared his throat. “I knew you would.”

“Alright, shh,” Arthur interrupted, taking your hand in his and softly pressing his lips to yours.

“Mm,” you sighed, immediately melting into his touch. He might be rough around the edges, but Arthur surely knew how to treat a woman. You’d already forgotten what you were gabbing on about.

Arthur wasted no time in deepening the kiss and pushing his tongue past your lips. “That’s my good girl,” he murmured, one hand cupping your cheek and the other on your hip.

You spent a few minutes exploring each other’s mouths and letting your hands wander. Eventually your positions shifted so Arthur was nearly laying on top of you. He spoke again.

“Come back,” he whispered. “I can’t live without you.”

That voice. It was sweet as honey. It made you want to follow him to the ends of the earth.

You avoided his gaze, pursing your slightly swollen, glazed lips. “Arthur, I can’t–”

“You love the bloodshed,” he spoke in your ear. His hand went under your skirt and ghosted over your bloomers. “You crave it. Stop actin’ like you don’t.”

“No–”

Arthur silenced you with another kiss, capturing your lips and claiming them as his, as he had done so many times before. Yet it never got old; the lusty looks and burning touches lit you on fire.

You whimpered as he slipped his hand inside your bloomers.

“We both know this doesn’t lie,” he murmured, barely grazing your folds. He kept his bright eyes steadily focused on you while he used just one finger to tease you.

A quiet moan escaped your lips.

Arthur seemed eager to get on with it. He lifted your skirt and removed your underthings, carefully setting them beside you on the blanket.

“Did my pretty girl miss me?” he breathed, massaging your thighs. You whined just a little, already anticipating his touch.

Arthur traced your bare cunt, enjoying watching you squirm.

“Arthur,” you whispered in a choked voice.

He shucked off his pants, then laid down between your legs.

Arthur was gentleman enough to service you first. He put your legs on either side of his face, and breathed in the natural scent of your pussy, again barely grazing the already soaked lips with his finger.

“S-Stop teasing me, dammit,” you moaned. He smiled. It was almost fun to see how quickly he could get you to come undone, begging for his touch.

Arthur started with small licks on the inner parts of your thighs. Your legs immediately tried to come together, but he held them apart and kept licking. Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to stay still.

He traveled up your thighs and paused just before he got to your cunt. Taking two fingers, Arthur spread your lips apart, marveling at the amount of slick already coating your entrance.

“Ah- ah, d-don’t- mmgh,” you cried. His touch was so depraved and satisfying.

Arthur dove in, pushing his tongue into your warm, sticky entrance. He gripped your thighs with his hands and held them up as he fully ate you out. He got messy with it very quickly, suckling on everything he could get a hold of.

You cried out and gripped his hair hard, bucking your hips. This kind of pleasure was completely unheard of and forbidden for girls like you, and that made it all the more filthy. You loved it. You loved every second of it. No man had ever touched you like this before, and you doubted any man ever would.

He removed his mouth for a second and rubbed circles around your sweet spot. “You’re lovin’ it, aren’t you, sweet girl?”

You breathed in and out loudly. “Yes,” you whined shamelessly.

Arthur pushed his tongue back in, appreciating how your walls tightened around him. He swore he could feel your heartbeat, pulsing in time with his.

You grinded against his face, spreading your juices everywhere, going crazy at the lewd noises being produced.

“Arthur– oh, Arthur, yes, please–”

You were getting close. It never took long for you to cum, but apparently you were touch starved right now.

Abruptly, Arthur pulled back from your pussy, breathing heavily and licking his lips.

You panted too. “Why’d you stop?”

He paused, then quickly pulled off his boxers. Oh.

Arthur pushed you down again and rubbed his girthy, veiny cock up and down your soaked pussy.

The thick mushroom head was poking at your entrance, and you wanted to let him in, but…

“Do you have…protection?” you whispered.

He nodded. “Course.” He pulled a condom packet out of his pants pocket. A primitive thing, to be sure, but it was part of the plan.

Arthur pulled it on, then nosed his tip so it was just breaching your entrance. You sighed loudly, spreading your legs a bit more.

He pushed in. A creamy noise was produced, but even louder was your pained moan. It was a stretch to fit him in, even when he had prepped you first.

This was only the second time he’d gone all the way like this. There was no reliable way of avoiding pregnancy, so you simply didn’t allow him to do it. But this was a special occasion. After this, you were done with each other, forever.

Arthur sighed and pushed into you even further, watching your pussy lips greedily suck in his cock.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. “Letting me in so nicely.”

He started to thrust in and out slowly. You threw your head back and panted, whining loudly and mumbling his name.

His cock repeatedly filled you to the brim and you squeezed your tight walls around him. Your juices quickly coated the condom, allowing him to more easily push the rest of his cock in.

Soon he was pushing in and out, all the way to the burst of hair at his base. Arthur groaned lowly, biting your shoulder and holding onto your hips with his big hands, kneading your ass.

After a few minutes of bliss, he shifted positions; Arthur pressed your legs almost to your chest and held them there, hitting deeper and deeper into your sticky cunt.

You moaned loudly, finding his hair again and holding it tightly. His full balls slapped against your ass.

“Like that?” he muttered. “You like that, you uppity little–” He groaned loudly, going faster and rougher.

“Arthur, Arthur,” you sobbed, curling your toes. “Please, I’m g-gonna–”

With a muffled cry, you came undone on his cock, toes curling, legs shaking, cunt spasming and letting out more of your juices all over his cock and the blanket.

“That’s right, let it out, sweetheart,” he gasped. “I’m close too, baby, shit–”

Arthur pressed himself into you and stilled, panting, eyes tightly shut. You could feel his cock twitching as he rode out his orgasm in your soaked through cunt.

His lips collided with yours in a sloppy, desperate kiss, and he slowly thrusted a couple more times before pulling out.

The condom was smeared in your juices.

Arthur sighed. “Hopefully it didn’t break. I tried to get a good one.”

You chuckled nervously. “Hopefully not.”

He helped you clean up, wiping you down and putting your clothes back on. You hoped his smell (it wasn’t a bad one, just distinct) wouldn’t cling to your clothes.

“I’m sorry it had to be like this,” you told him as you prepared to remount your horse. “But if you ever decide to stop being an outlaw…you know where to find me.”

“I love you,” Arthur said simply.

You flushed, and looked away.

“Goodbye, Arthur.”

You rode off.

Arthur waited till you were out of sight to smile.

You were really gullible. A condom, seriously? Even pulling out was more reliable. These things broke more easily than a cheap lock. Even if it hadn’t, he’d cut a small hole into the tip that ensured he’d painted your walls white. If it dripped out, you would probably just assume it to be your own juices.

Now it was just a waiting game.

Two months later.

Your maid, Elisabeth, stared at you frightfully as you bent over a bucket for the 3rd time this week, vomiting horribly. You breathed heavily, then vomited again. There was nothing even in your stomach, which made it so much worse.

“Are you alright, ma’am?’ she squeaked, standing by with a towel.

You were too nauseous to answer. You clutched your stomach, head spinning and mind racing.

Your stomach had been in shambles this week and the last, and it was getting concerning.

After a few labored breaths, you grabbed the towel and wiped off your mouth. “Let's visit the doctor.”

Elisabeth gave you some cool water to sip, which helped a bit but not much. You could hardly stand to get on the carriage, and then it was like you were on a merry-go-round with the way it was hitting every bump in the road.

You leaned over the side and emptied your stomach yet again.

It was possible this sickness had a terrifying explanation, one that you couldn't even begin to imagine. Lord, protect me, you prayed despairingly.

One agonizingly slow and nauseating ride later, you pulled up next to the doctor's office. Elisabeth had to coax you down, and she was clearly scared you would projectile vomit on her. The world was swimming around you and had a hazy feel.

You stumbled into the office and leaned against the cool wall.

“You alright, ma'am?” a voice asked. It was Dr. Williams, an older gentleman who'd been in Rhodes for years.

“I-I think I have a fever,” you whispered, fanning yourself. “Been throwing up everywhere.”

He quickly escorted you to a room in the back, and you collapsed into the chair.

Dr. Williams examined you, looking inside your mouth and pressing various points on your body.

“Any symptoms besides vomiting?” he inquired.

You shook your head. “Don't believe so.”

“When did they start?”

“I'd say…maybe two weeks ago.”

He hummed and thought for a bit while examining you. “Is there a chance you could be with child?”

You started, then stopped, then froze.

No…

“Err,” you stuttered.

He waited for your answer.

“I-I-...well, I suppose it ain't impossible,” you admitted fearfully.

Dr. Williams nodded. “Unless you have some strange fever, it is my opinion that you're suffering from morning sickness.”

Your heart dropped to your feet and started beating like a jackrabbit's. No. No. Lord, please.

“That can't be true,” you said desperately. “It-It- was so long ago…I don't…”

“It takes a bit for symptoms to present,” the doctor explained.

“B-But I can't, I can't be,” you cried, panicking. “You don't understand, my life is over if I'm with child. Over!” You stood up and started pacing around.

“Admittedly it’s still too early to tell for certain,” Dr. Williams allowed. “However, I have seen this many times before. There are options–”

“No! There are no options!” you snapped. “I am the daughter of an oil baron and a society lady! J-just imagining the shame, the disgrace–...my mother will kill me. And if she doesn't, I'll be sent away to the corners of the earth.”

You burst into tears at this declaration, falling to your knees and covering your face in shame. Dr. Williams hung back, perhaps sensing that you needed a minute.

After you collected yourself and stood up, you said in a quiet, cold voice: “There is no way I am pregnant. I thank you for your expertise, Dr. Williams, but in this case you are incorrect. I simply have a fever. Good day.”

You swept out of the building with your head held high, collecting your maid and getting back on the carriage.

The two of you had barely left the town borders before you broke down and started crying again. Pregnant? A child? You? It could not be true. It could not.

And…and definitely not by Arthur, of all people. He was like a firecracker, burning hot and dangerous, the exact opposite of a…father.

Even that word burned acrid on your tongue.

“Do you need somethin’, miss?” Elisabeth asked tentatively.

You sighed, wiped your face, and shook your head sadly. “No…no thank you. I'm alright.”

The ride back home was silent save for your sniffles and forlorn sighs. You refused to accept this possibility.

You felt you would rather be tarred and feathered than even think about telling your mother about your condition. Your outburst at Dr. Williams had barely covered it; your parents were continually telling you to act perfectly, to never step out of line. Even though they were far from perfect.

Your mother was the biggest hypocrite you knew. She thought you didn't see her inviting the help in for "tea". Well, you did, not that you cared much. It was just sickening that she set expectations for you that she herself had never reached.

She'd threatened you with the nunnery before, after catching you with one of the stable boys. Said that “wicked girls were destined for the deepest pits of hell.” Hmph. She was definitely an expert on the subject.

As for your father, well, he wasn't much better. Though he didn't verbally abuse you like your mother, he viewed you more like a liability among his property. You were certain he would marry you off if it would benefit his emerging empire. He would see this…predicament as something that could damage his reputation. If your mother chose to send you away, you doubted he would make much of a fuss.

Thankfully, the churning in your stomach faded on the way home, and only your mind remained in shambles.

You tried to avoid your mother when you arrived at the manor, but of course she was in the front room, waiting for you.

“What did the doctor say?” she inquired as you put down your things.

“Just a mild fever,” you replied shortly, then power walked to your room. But she followed.

“Are you sure? Do you have a temperature? Did he give you any medicine?” she pressed, following your impatient footsteps right up to your bedroom door.

“Mother, I'll be fine. It's not serious,” you said angrily, then closed the door behind you firmly.

You waited until her heels clicked away down the wooden stairs, then collapsed on your bed and sobbed some more.

My life might be over.

A month and a half later.

Your life was over.

Completely and utterly.

The nausea had not stopped, and in fact it got worse the week after you went to the doctor. That had been the peak of pain, but it still remained for another two weeks afterwards, lurking like some shadowy beast.

Your dresses, tailored exactly to your measurements, had become just a little bit tighter. At first you had brushed it off as an indulgent diet, or just stress weight, but even your mother had commented on how your dress was pulled tight over your torso.

After that, you took care to hide your body under the heaviest dresses you could manage. But it was summer by now, and staying out of sight was a tall order.

Your mother repeatedly asked you to go to the doctor again, and perhaps seek out a second opinion, and you refused, insisting that it was just a fever. But you could tell she wasn’t believing you. She gave you strange looks when you said you felt nauseous yet again.

It was a stormy day in June when you finally had the courage to take off your clothes and examine your body in the floor-length, gilded mirror in your boudoir.

A mistake.

Your blood turned to ice as you saw the unmistakable bump that was forming.

Your breathing accelerated along with your mind, thoughts racing and jumbling and colliding, coming to one stunning, awful conclusion:

I’m pregnant.

You were pregnant. With child. An expectant mother.

What a joke.

You? A mother? What a ridiculously absurd notion. You would sooner be a clown in a traveling circus.

And…that man was the father. The man that haunted your thoughts and your dreams, the man whose scent still clung ever so faintly to one of your riding dresses. The man whose mere name sent shivers down your spine.

Arthur Morgan.

You put your clothes back on, then left the room, intending to get a snack, but before even making it to the stairs your mother pounced on you.

“Alright, I simply must insist that you tell me what is really going on,” she declared. “No fever lasts this long, and you have no temperature at all.”

You tried to dodge her, but she blocked your path, clearly dead set on getting an answer from you.

“It’s nothing, Mother, I told you before,” you said, irritated. It absolutely was not nothing, but you needed time to plan your strategy.

“If it’s nothing, why have you been nauseous for the past…” She paused, then narrowed her eyebrows.

Before you could step back, she poked your stomach with one finger. You of course involuntarily jumped back.

“What- What are you doing?” you gasped, nervous.

“Let me see your stomach.”

“What?”

She pushed you towards your room. “I said, let me see your stomach, girl. Lift up your skirts.”

You scoffed, heart pounding like a drum. “Why would I do that?”

You were forced back into your bedroom, and your mother closed and locked the door behind her. “I just want to look at it.”

This was quite a pickle.

“I- I really don’t think that’s necessary, Mother-”

She grabbed at your skirts, impatient. You jumped back. “Stop it! Fine, I will.”

She was going to find out eventually.

Your mother crossed her arms and waited with anticipation as you slowly lifted your skirt. The blood was rushing in your ears and you prayed to God that you would survive the next five minutes.

Eventually your skirt revealed the still developing but definitely noticeable bump you had.

The room was dead silent. Your mother stared at your belly in shock, lips slightly parted.

Then her mouth closed and formed a hard scowl. “Would you care to explain the meaning of this?”

You blinked several times, trying to find your voice, but it was lost and long gone.

“Are you-” She swallowed hard. “Are you…with child?”

She stared at you. Her glare kept you still and pinned you down like a bug on display.

You eventually nodded, wordless and terrified.

“And who is the father, pray tell?”

You just stared at the ground.

“Answer me, girl,” she said sharply.

There was no way you were going to tell her that. It would genuinely be better for her to assume you were so loose you couldn’t even pinpoint the father.

Your mother pinched her nose, and sighed, shaking her head. “We’re going to have a little talk with your father when he comes home. Remain in your room; I have no desire to see you anymore.” With those pleasant parting words, she stomped out, slamming the door behind you.

Once her footsteps faded away, you sat on your bed, numbly thinking of what to do.

Your father was sure to agree with any punishment your mother dreamed up. He was more like a manager than a father, and he had no qualms about letting a bad employee go.

Or…or maybe he wouldn’t? Perhaps his indifference would work in your favor, and he would tell your mother not to bother? Maybe he’d even pay someone to take care of it.

These were all hypotheticals. There was no telling what would really happen until it actually occurred.

Your father was due home soon. It was just your luck that he was taking a half-day in the office.

Ugh.

End of Part 2.

#18+ mdni #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #low honor arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption

79 notes · View notes

winwintea · 21 days ago

Text

paranoia

PAIRING ↬ boyfriend!huang renjun x fem!reader (feat. ning yizhuo)

TAGS ↬ horror, romance, thriller, suspense, jeno is a ghost, serial killers!! and of course gay witches

WARNINGS ↬ horror, murder!!!, taxidermy (basically like convert someone into a doll), creepy dolls, ghosts, zombified people descriptions, character death !!!

SUMMARY ↬ nightmares to reality. devotion to madness. can you tell what's real and what's fake? who's the true monster in the end?

WORD COUNT ↬ 5.2k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ ummmmmmmmmmm. i can't explain this one it came to me in a car ride. drive safe y'all don't learn from me ok. title is from the cunty kang daniel song, this fic was very very music inspired, so check out all the songs listed if you'd like. pookie bae @polarisjisung beta read for me she my ride or die actually zhong chenle you're getting demoted (he was demoted ages ago)

PLAYLIST ↬ bones - taemin; paranoia - kang daniel; zombie - everglow; good girls in the dark - yena

THE COLD METAL BITES INTO YOUR SKIN,

sending a shiver up your spine as you regain consciousness. The lights flicker on and off, dimming the room. You blink, trying to make sense of your surroundings, but the room feels unfamiliar. You’ve never been here before.

Leather straps pin your wrists and ankles to the table, the edges digging into your flesh as you struggle against them. Panic surges through you as the smell of antiseptic and iron fills your nose.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

Renjun’s voice is soft, almost melodic, as he steps into view. His face is bathed in the sickly yellow light from the bulb. He looks calm, almost unreadable, but his eyes seem to gleam with something dangerous. In one hand, he holds a scalpel. In the other, he cradles a small, intricately carved porcelain doll, its lifeless glass eyes staring into yours.

“Renjun,” you gasp, your voice trembling, “what are you doing? Let me go!”

He tilts his head slightly, as though considering your words. “You don’t understand,” he murmurs, his tone almost apologetic. “You’re so close to perfection. So close to being what I always knew you could be.”

The words send a chill through you. “What are you talking about? Renjun, this isn’t you! Please, you’re scaring me!”

His lips form a sad smile, but his hands remain steady as he sets the doll down on a nearby tray. The tray rattles softly, revealing more tools—scissors, needles, thread, and vials of strange liquids.

“I know you’re scared,” he says, stepping closer. “But this is for your own good. For our good. I’m going to make sure you’re... safe. Perfect.”

You thrash against the straps, desperate to break free, but they hold firm. “Renjun, stop! Whatever you’re planning, you don’t have to do this! Please, just let me go!”

His expression darkens, and for a moment, his hand hesitates. “I wish you wouldn’t struggle,” he whispers, leaning in close. You can feel his breath against your cheek, warm and steady, a cruel contrast to your racing heart. “It’ll only hurt more if you do.”

He raises the scalpel, the blade catching the dim light. It trembles slightly in his grip as though he’s fighting some internal battle. You try to scream, but the sound only echoes.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promises, his voice breaking slightly. “You won’t feel a thing, I swear.”

Tears blur your vision as you see the blade descending, inching closer to your arm. Every nerve in your body screams for escape, for salvation, but the straps hold you immobile.

“Renjun, please—”

The scalpel presses against your skin, the cold, sharp edge biting lightly—

You wake with a strangled cry. Sweat clings to your skin, and the room around you is dark and silent. Your hands tremble as you clutch the sheets, trying to ground yourself, but the phantom sensation of the blade lingers, your skin prickling where it had hovered in the dream.

Fuck.

Turning your head, you reach out instinctively to the other side of the bed… but it’s empty. Renjun’s side is cold, the covers are neatly arranged.

“Renjun?” you call softly, your voice hoarse.

Silence.

You shake your head, trying to push away the lingering dread. He must have gotten up early. Maybe he’s in the kitchen or the bathroom. You force yourself to lie back down, but your heart refuses to slow. The dream continues to play at the back of your mind

Eventually you get up and head for the kitchen. You don’t see Renjun anywhere, so you assume he’s out. But it doesn’t cease your worries.

You hum softly to yourself as you pour batter into a pan, the comforting sizzle of pancakes mingling with the aroma of fresh coffee. For a moment, the night’s haunting dream feels like a distant memory.

But then, a new smell hits you—a sharp, metallic tang that cuts through the warmth of breakfast like a knife. It smells like blood almost…? You wrinkle your nose and glance toward the stove, assuming something might be burning.

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor freezes you mid-motion.

You turn slowly, spatula clutched tightly in your hand, and nearly drop it when your eyes land on the figure seated at the table.

“Yizhuo?” The name escapes your lips in a whisper, barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

She sits perfectly still, her head tilted slightly as she watches you. Her once-lively features are now sunken and pale, a sickly greenish tint spreading across her skin. Her hair hangs in limp, tangled strands around her shoulders, and her clothes are torn and stained with dark, crusted blotches.

Most unsettling are her eyes, clouded and milky, yet piercing. They lock onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Good morning,” she says softly, looking at you expectantly.

You stagger back, pressing yourself against the counter. “This… This isn’t real,” you stammer. “You… You’ve been missing for weeks. You—”

“I’m dead.” Her cracked lips curve into a faint smile. “Or at least, I should be.”

The words hang heavy in the air. Your knees threaten to buckle, but you cling to the counter for support, the spatula still trembling in your grip.

“What… What’s going on? How are you here?” you demand, your voice breaking.

Yizhuo leans forward slightly, her movements slow and deliberate. “I came to warn you.”

“Warn me?” Your pulse quickens, your thoughts spinning. “Warn me about what?”

“Renjun,” she says, her tone hardening. Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, her frail demeanor is overshadowed by something fierce. “Your little boyfriend. He’s dangerous. You need to leave him before it’s too late.”

You shake your head, trying to process her words. “Renjun? No, that’s not possible. He wouldn’t—he couldn’t—”

She cuts you off with a dry laugh, “That’s what I thought too. But look at me now.” She gestures to herself, her decayed hands trembling as she does. “He took me. He experimented on me. He killed me.”

The room seems to spin as her words sink in. “No,” you whisper, more to yourself than to her. “That can’t be true. He—he loves me.”

"So much he’ll destroy you." she says, her voice filled with pity. "He’s obsessed with control, with perfection. He sees you as… as something to be fixed, something to be preserved.”

Your throat tightens. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I don’t want the same thing to happen to you,” Yizhuo replies, her expression grim. She leans in closer, her scent—a nauseating blend of rot and chemicals—assaulting your senses. “He’s planning to do the same to you. I overheard him. You need to run. Now.”

The words strike like a thunderclap, but you can’t move, can’t speak. Yizhuo’s cloudy eyes search yours, pleading.

“You don’t have much time,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Get out before it’s too late.”

Before you can respond, she rises from the chair, her movements stiff and unnatural. She glances back at you one last time, her expression a mix of sorrow and urgency. Then, without another word, she walks out of the kitchen, her footsteps silent.

You’re left standing there, the spatula still in your hand, the pancakes burning on the stove behind you.

Before you can make sense of anything, the front door clicks open again.

“Morning,” Renjun’s familiar voice calls out. The sound startles you, and you spin around, heart still racing.

He steps into the kitchen, his hair slightly tousled from the cold morning air. He looks every bit like the Renjun you know: calm, collected, and effortlessly handsome in his cozy sweater and jeans. A faint smile touches his lips as he sees you, though his brows knit together at your pale face.

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he says lightly, stepping closer.

You swallow hard, your mind screaming at you to say something about Yizhuo, but the sight of him steadies your nerves just enough to keep the words locked up in your throat.

“I—I had a bad dream,” you finally stammer. “And you weren’t in bed. Where did you go?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t sleep. The air felt stuffy, so I went out for a walk to clear my head.” He gestures toward the front door. “It’s freezing out there, by the way. You’re lucky you stayed in.”

You blink at him, searching his face for any signs of deception, but he looks so... ordinary. So sincere.

“You should’ve told me,” you murmur, voice tinged with worry.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he replies softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

The tenderness in his gesture makes your chest ache.

“It wasn’t just the walk,” you admit, your voice shaky. “The dream I had… It was awful. You—you were doing something horrible to me. It felt so real, Renjun.”

His eyes widen slightly, then soften with concern. “Hey,” he murmurs, pulling you into his arms. His embrace is warm, firm, and familiar. “It was just a dream. Nothing more, okay? I would never hurt you.”

You hesitate, the memory of Yizhuo’s eyes and voice flashing through your mind again. But Renjun’s voice is so steady, so reassuring.

“I know,” you whisper, leaning into him. “It just felt so vivid. Like it wasn’t just a dream...”

He pulls back slightly to meet your eyes, his hands still resting on your arms. “Dreams can mess with your head,” he says gently. “Especially when you’re stressed or overtired. You’ve been working too hard lately.”

“I guess,” you mumble.

“Come here.” He leads you to the table, where the two of you sit down. “Forget about breakfast for a bit. Just breathe, okay? I’m here now.”

You nod, allowing yourself to relax. Renjun’s presence feels grounding, and for a moment, the lingering dread from the morning fades.

Still, the faint smell of something metallic lingers in the air, and you can’t help but glance at the chair Yizhuo had been sitting in. It’s empty now, no sign of her ever being there.

Renjun follows your gaze. “You okay?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Yeah,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

And for the rest of the morning, everything feels normal again. Renjun jokes with you as he helps clean up the kitchen, his laughter filling the space and making it feel warm and alive. By the time he heads to the bathroom to shower, you’ve almost convinced yourself that Yizhuo’s appearance had been nothing more than a vivid hallucination.

It wasn’t real, you tell yourself for the hundredth time. It couldn’t have been.

Stress. Fatigue. That’s all it was. It has to be.

Still, the unease gnaws at you as the day drags on. Renjun spends most of the afternoon in his study, working on something he vaguely describes as “art.” You don’t press him—he’s always been private about his projects, and it’s not unusual for him to disappear for hours into his world of creativity. He’s shown you some portraits he’s done. That alone was enough to convince you then, but maybe not now.

As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, you decide you need some air.

The backyard feels oddly silent as you step outside, the chill of the evening biting at your skin. The garden Renjun painstakingly tends to is perfectly cared for, each flower bed neat and orderly. But something feels... off. You can’t place it at first, but the further you walk, the heavier the air feels.

And then you see her.

A figure sits near the edge of the garden, half-hidden by the shadows of the trees. At first, you think it’s a trick of the fading light, but as you approach, your stomach turns.

Her head lifts slowly as she senses your presence. Her skin is mottled and patchy, as though poorly stitched together, and her hair hangs in brittle, uneven clumps. One of her eyes is glassy and lifeless, while the other stares at you with unsettling clarity.

“Hello,” she says, her voice low and raspy.

Your instincts scream at you to run, but your feet remain rooted to the spot. “Hi,” you manage to reply, your voice barely audible.

“You’re his new girlfriend, aren’t you?” she asks, tilting her head.

You swallow hard. “What do you mean?”

She chuckles softly, the sound more hollow than amused. “He always picks the pretty ones. Says they’re easier to perfect.”

The words send a chill racing through you. “You know Renjun?”

“Better than I’d like,” she replies, leaning forward slightly. Her movements are stiff, as though her body doesn’t quite obey her.

Your chest tightens. “What happened?”

She lets out a bitter laugh. “What always happens. He gets bored, or paranoid, or both. Decides you need fixing. Then you end up like me.” She gestures to herself, her fingers trembling. “A mistake he doesn’t know how to get rid of.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “You’re one of his... experiments?”

“Guess you could call it that.” Her eye narrows, and for a moment, you swear you see a flicker of pity in her expression. “But you don’t have to end up like me. You still have a chance to get out.”

Your mind races, every fiber of your being screaming that this can’t be true. But the evidence sits right in front of you, her broken body a chilling testament to something you don’t want to believe.

“I... I don’t understand,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“You will,” she says simply, her tone heavy with finality. “Just don’t wait too long. He doesn’t like it when his plans get interrupted.”

Before you can respond, she struggles to her feet, her movements jerky and unnatural. She stumbles into the trees, disappearing into the shadows before you can even think to follow.

You stand there for what feels like an eternity, your heart pounding in your chest. When you finally gather the courage to move, you hurry back into the house, locking the door behind you.

Renjun finds you later that evening, curled up on the couch with a book you haven’t read a single word of. “You okay?” he asks, sitting down beside you.

You force a smile, shaking your head. “Just tired,” you reply, your voice strained.

He presses a soft kiss to your temple, and though his touch is warm, it does little to chase away the cold dread that has settled deep in your bones.

You say nothing about the woman in the garden.

The days that follow are a blur of unease and doubt. Renjun grows more distant, his once-gentle demeanor laced with a nervous edge. You catch him watching you when he thinks you’re not looking, his eyes dark and searching, as though trying to read your thoughts.

You tell yourself it’s nothing—just paranoia creeping in after Yizhuo and the woman in the garden. But the house feels different now, like something unseen is watching, waiting.

One night, unable to sleep, you wander through the house, your footsteps muffled against the hardwood floors. Renjun had disappeared into his study hours ago, and you haven’t seen him since. Curiosity gnaws at you, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you find yourself standing at the door to the basement.

It’s unlocked.

The air grows colder as you descend the narrow stairs, the faint scent of mothballs and chemicals prickling your nose.

Your breath catches as you reach the bottom. The room is cluttered with tools and shelves of strange, unrecognizable objects, but your eyes are drawn to the center of the room where a series of lifelike dolls are displayed.

At least, you think they’re dolls at first.

They’re posed on stands, dressed in fine clothing, their glassy eyes staring blankly into the room. But as you move closer, your stomach churns. Their skin isn’t porcelain—it’s something else. Something real.

Your fingers tremble as you reach out to touch one of them but stop short when a voice behind you speaks.

“You shouldn’t be down here.”

You whirl around, heart racing, to find a young man leaning against the far wall. His hair is dark and neatly styled, his posture relaxed, but there’s something unsettling about the way he looks at you.

“Who are you?” you demand, backing away slightly.

“Jeno,” he says casually, pushing off the wall and taking a step closer. “Nice to meet you.”

You glance at the stairs, calculating your chances of escape, but something in his expression stops you. It’s almost amused, like he knows something you don’t.

“Renjun doesn’t like it when people snoop,” Jeno continues, his tone conversational. “He gets... upset.”

“How do you know Renjun?” you ask, your voice trembling.

He smiles faintly, his eyes flicking to the dolls behind you. “Let’s just say we go way back.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes your skin crawl. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing you are,” he says cryptically. “Looking for answers.”

Before you can respond, Jeno steps forward—and walks straight through one of the shelves.

What the fuck.

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch his figure shimmer faintly, like heat waves rising from asphalt. He turns to look at you, his expression unreadable.

“You should leave,” he says softly. “Before it’s too late.”

And just like that, he vanishes, fading into the wall as though he were never there.

You’re left standing in the basement, your heart pounding and your mind racing. The dolls’ lifeless eyes seem to follow you as you back away, your legs shaking with every step.

When you finally make it back to the main floor, Renjun is waiting for you in the living room.

“What were you doing in the basement?” he asks, his voice tight.

You freeze, your mind scrambling for an answer. “I—”

“You know you’re not supposed to go down there,” he says, cutting you off. His tone is calm, but his eyes are sharp, his jaw clenched.

“I was just looking for something,” you lie, trying to keep your voice steady. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He studies you for a moment, then sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You should’ve told me. There’s nothing down there for you.”

You nod, forcing a smile. “Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

But as Renjun pulls you into a half-hearted hug, you can feel the tension in his body. His fingers linger on your back a little too long, as though trying to keep you from slipping away.

You say nothing about the dolls. Or the man named Jeno.

But deep down, you know you’ve stepped into something you can’t ignore anymore.

Renjun’s behavior grows more unpredictable with each passing day. His once gentle nature gives way to sudden bursts of tension: slamming doors, muttering under his breath, pacing the house at odd hours. You try to ignore it, to chalk it up to stress or exhaustion, but the warning signs are impossible to dismiss.

One evening, after he disappears into the basement again without a word, you decide you can’t wait any longer. Whatever he’s hiding down there, you need to know.

The basement feels colder than before, the air heavy with the scent of chemicals and something else—something rancid. The dolls remain in their haunting poses, their glassy eyes fixed on nothing and everything at once. You can’t shake the feeling that they’re watching you.

You move quickly, rifling through the cluttered workbench. Papers covered in scrawled notes, jars of unidentifiable substances, and tools you can’t even name. Your hand trembles as you lift a folder marked with your name.

Before you can open it, a voice cuts through the silence.

“What are you doing?”

You freeze, the folder slipping from your hands. Renjun stands at the base of the stairs, his face eerily calm, though his eyes burn with an intensity that makes your blood run cold.

“I—I was just—” you stammer, stepping back instinctively.

“You shouldn’t have come down here,” he says, his tone soft but firm. He takes a step closer, his hand hidden behind his back. “I trusted you.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Renjun, what is all this? What are you doing down here?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he steps fully into the room, revealing the syringe in his hand. The clear liquid inside catches the light, its purpose unknown but unmistakably sinister.

“I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this,” he murmurs, almost regretfully. “I thought I could fix everything without hurting you. But you had to go and make things difficult.”

“Renjun, please,” you say, your voice shaking. “Whatever this is, we can talk about it. You don’t have to—”

“You don’t understand,” he interrupts, his voice cracking. “I’m doing this for you. For everyone. You don’t know what you are, what you’re capable of.”

He lunges before you can react, the syringe glinting as he closes the distance between you. You scream, twisting and flailing, but he’s faster, stronger than you expect. The needle sinks into your neck, and the icy burn of the liquid spreads through your veins.

The last thing you hear before the world fades to black is Renjun’s trembling voice.

“I’m so sorry.”

When you wake, the cold metal beneath you is the first thing you notice. Your body feels heavy, unresponsive, as though the drug hasn’t entirely worn off. The dim light above casts shadows across the room, and as your vision clears, you see him.

Renjun stands over you, his face pale and drawn, yet his hands move with steady precision. Tools are laid out neatly beside him, glinting in the faint light.

“Renjun?” you whisper, your voice weak and hoarse.

He startles slightly, his gaze snapping to yours. For a moment, his expression softens, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. But it vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

“You’re awake,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “I wasn’t expecting that yet.”

“What... what are you doing?” you ask, panic rising in your chest.

He sighs, his hands pausing as he picks up a scalpel. “I’m saving you,” he says simply, his tone matter-of-fact. “You won’t feel a thing, I promise. When this is over, you’ll be perfect. No one will ever be able to hurt you again.”

“Renjun, stop!” you scream, thrashing against the straps that hold you down. “Please, you don’t have to do this!”

His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he shakes his head. “I don’t have a choice,” he whispers. “You’re dangerous, even if you don’t know it. I’ve seen what you’ll become if I don’t stop it from happening now.”

He leans closer, the scalpel trembling slightly in his hand. “But it’s okay,” he continues, his voice cracking. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll love you just the same. You’ll see. You’ll understand one day.”

Tears blur your vision as you struggle harder, the straps biting into your skin. “Renjun, please! I love you! Don’t do this!”

His hand falters for a moment, the scalpel hovering just above your skin. “I love you too,” he says, his voice breaking. “That’s why I have to do this.”

The sharp edge glints as it lowers toward you, and your screams echo through the basement, mixing with Renjun’s whispered apologies.

Your body trembles against the restraints, your heart racing as Renjun’s scalpel hovers closer to your skin. Desperation fuels you, and you yank against the straps with everything you have. The leather digs into your wrists, cutting into your skin, but you don’t stop.

“Stop struggling,” Renjun says softly, his voice almost pleading. “You’ll only hurt yourself.”

But you don’t listen. Instead, you twist your arm as hard as you can, feeling the strap loosen just slightly. The metal table creaks beneath your movements, and the scalpel in his hand wavers.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Don’t make this harder for me.”

With a surge of adrenaline, your wrist finally slips free, the leather snapping loose. You lunge forward, catching him off guard. His eyes widen in shock as you grab at the tools on the tray beside you, your fingers fumbling for anything sharp.

“Stop!” he shouts, dropping the scalpel to grab your arm. His grip is strong, but your determination is stronger.

You manage to grab a pair of forceps and swing them wildly, catching him across the face. He cries out, staggering backward and clutching his cheek, blood seeping between his fingers.

“You don’t understand!” he yells, his voice raw with emotion. “I’m trying to save you!”

But you don’t stop. You twist your body, freeing your other arm, and kick out with your legs, knocking the tray of tools to the floor. The clang of metal echoes in the room as you grab the scalpel he dropped.

Renjun lunges at you, his hands outstretched, but you roll off the table just in time. Your knees buckle as you hit the floor, but you push yourself up, the scalpel clutched tightly in your shaking hand.

“Please,” he says again, his voice desperate now. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”

You scream, charging at him with the scalpel. He grabs your wrist, the two of you grappling for control. His strength is terrifying, and for a moment, you think you’ll lose.

“You’re not the person I fell in love with!” you cry, tears streaming down your face.

“I am!” he shouts, his eyes wild. “I’m doing this because I love you!”

The scalpel slips in your hand, slicing your palm, but you don’t let go. With a sudden burst of strength, you shove him backward. He stumbles, tripping over the tray of tools and falling to the floor.

Before he can get up, you’re on him, pinning him down. The scalpel shakes in your hand as you press it against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

He looks up at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. “No,” he breathes. “You don’t have to—”

But you do.

With a scream, you drive the scalpel into his chest. Blood blooms beneath the blade, spreading across his shirt. His body jerks, his hands clawing weakly at yours, but his strength is fading fast.

His lips part, as if to say something, but no sound comes out. His eyes, once so full of love, now stare up at you in a mix of pain and betrayal.

You pull the scalpel out and stab him again, and again, each strike accompanied by a choked sob.

When it’s over, you collapse beside him, your hands trembling and covered in blood. The room is silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing.

Renjun lies motionless, his face pale and his body still. The pool of blood beneath him grows larger, seeping into the cracks of the cold basement floor.

For a long moment, you can’t move, can’t think. All you can do is stare at his lifeless form, the weight of what you’ve done crashing down on you.

Then, slowly, you drag yourself to your feet, your legs weak and unsteady. You wipe your bloodied hands on your shirt, your breaths coming in shallow gasps.

But as you turn to leave, something glimmers in the corner of your eye. A reflection in the glassy eyes of one of the dolls, watching you, silent and unblinking.

You stagger up the basement stairs, your mind reeling, Renjun’s blood still warm on your hands. The house feels eerily silent now, the weight of what you’ve done pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

You sink onto the couch, trembling, trying to steady your breathing. The nightmare is over—or so you tell yourself. Yet, deep inside, a strange calm begins to settle over you, and with it, clarity.

“I did it,” you whisper, almost to yourself. “It’s over.”

“Not quite,” a familiar voice cuts through the quiet.

You whirl around to see Ning Yizhuo standing in the doorway. She looks far less ghastly now, her skin no longer pallid and her cloudy eyes replaced with sharp, piercing ones. She steps into the room with an unsettling grace, her lips curling into a sly smile.

“Oh fuck you.” you gasp, your voice seemingly becoming annoyed. “I told you I could handle it.”

“Did you really think you could keep me out of this?” she asks, tilting her head. “You’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, but even I didn’t think you’d drag it out this long.”

“You know I wouldn’t let you die.” you counter back.

“Oh, come on,” Yizhuo says, her tone teasing. “You didn’t even know I was there!”

For odd as the situation was, this casual conversation seemed too strange for someone who had just had a traumatic encounter.

But you remembered it all.

The reason why you were here in the first place.

The spellwork, the rituals, the whispers of your coven as you planned everything together. Renjun—brilliant, dangerous, utterly unhinged—had been the perfect candidate to father the next generation of your powerful bloodline. His twisted mind, his obsession with creation, his unparalleled intellect—they were irresistible.

But he’d caught on, hadn’t he? His jealousy of Yizhuo, his paranoia, the experiments. He’d discovered the truth about who you were, what you were, and had convinced himself that you were a threat that needed to be eliminated.

“You were supposed to bring him to heel,” Yizhuo says, crossing her arms. “But instead, you let him spiral. Do you know how much work it was for me to survive after what he did to me?”

“I didn’t plan for this,” you mutter, your voice hollow.

“No,” Yizhuo replies sharply. “You didn’t. You got too attached. Like you always do. But you still got the job done, didn’t you?”

You glance down at your hands, still stained with Renjun’s blood, and a strange sense of satisfaction wells up within you. Despite the chaos, despite the loss of control, the end result remains the same.

Yizhuo steps closer, crouching down in front of you. “He was right about one thing,” she says, her voice soft now. “You are dangerous. But that’s exactly why this worked. You’re stronger now, more focused. And with him out of the way, there’s nothing stopping us.”

You look up at her, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. The weight on your chest lifts, replaced by a dark, intoxicating sense of purpose.

“He was brilliant,” you say quietly, almost wistfully. “But he underestimated me.”

“They always do,” Yizhuo replies, standing and extending a hand to you. “Come on. We have work to do. The coven’s waiting.”

You take her hand and rise to your feet, the tension in your body melting away as the truth of who you are settles over you like a comforting shroud.

As you leave the house together, you cast one last glance back at the basement door. The ghost of a smile plays on your lips as you whisper under your breath, “Thank you, Renjun. You were perfect.”

The door creaks shut behind you, and the house falls silent once more, now a graveyard for twisted dreams and dark beginnings.

alternate title:

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania @spacejip @peterm4rker @viasdreams

101 notes · View notes

imtotallyokandnormal · 1 year ago

Note

I would kill for some hurt/comfort headcannons about what John Doe does when he realizes that stabbing humans does in fact kill them. I assume he probably panicked real bad when he figures that out, and frantically resets the timeline. Probably would be really careful with You after that.

UGH NO YOU'RE SO RIGHT THOUGH OK OK I'M ON IT ANON I'M RIDING THE HURT COMFORT TRAIN LET'S GO

This ended up being way more sad than comforting but I hope you like it anyway I did my best

Reader: gn reader

Warnings: stabbing, death, angst, description of a corpse and blood, it gets pretty fucked up and sad actually

Image link: howdy!

》☆John Doe After Killing You☆《

- It was the moments after that made him realize. An accumulating number of seconds where you laid limp, staring up at him with those eyes. Those horribly glassy eyes, once full of emotion and now hollow of anything at all.

- After his frantic breathing slowed enough, he would grab your shoulders again, starting on a second wind of manic praise before he noticed something.

- You weren't moving.

- At first they thought you were playing some kind of human joke they didn't understand, chuckling and sitting you up as your lifeless body flopped over. "Oh you are funny, dearest! I may not understand the joke- but you're very good at staying still!"

- When you didn't respond, they tilted their head like a confused puppy. "Dearest? Could you explain the joke to me? I don't really understand."

- The silence was deafening. All you did was lay there, head flopped over with your neck bent at a weird angle. In the silence John took notice to something else; you haven't taken a breath this entire time.

- That's when the panic set in. At first they were in denial, trying to shake you awake as your limbs only swayed under their own gravity. More blood spills from your gaping maw and John's heartbeat quickens again, not from excitement but from fear, a primal fear erupting in him as he continues to shake and grab and plead for you to please wake up.

- But you don't. All you do is lay there. Cold, bloody and dead.

- The guilt ravaged him, all he could do was hold your bloody corpse close and howl in pain as he squeezed you. Or what you used to be, rather.

- He had promised himself to love you, to cherish you. He didn't think his actions were that of harm, he thought they were of love. To be able to see the inside of you, to be close enough that their hands can feel your blood pumping out from your heart, to feel your life force in their hands, becoming one in a way. But they found out too late that humans can only take so much.

- They could only sob violently as they cradled you, tugging at their hair and vowing over and over and over again that they can't let this happen again, not ever again.

- The reset was different.

- Seeing you, moving, breathing...it was different now. A hesitancy came when he stalked you at work, scared that he might hurt you again. Showing his love unbridled and uncontrolled led to the scene that flashes in front of him whenever he sees your face now. The smile he loves only to be interrupted by a vision of blood. So, so much blood.

- It took many resets for them to even let themselves touch you again. Eventually the loneliness became too much. Once you got home one day, there was suddenly a pair of arms wrapped tightly around you, squeezing as if you might slip away as easily as the wind.

- John didn't say anything to you then. They didn't need to. The vow they had made was apparent.

- John would never, never see you that way again.

#normal headcanons!#john doe x you #john doe x reader #john doe #john doe visual novel #house hunted visual novel #house hunted game #x reader #f/o community #f/o imagines #imagine your f/o #f/o #tw death #angst #tw angst #gn reader

482 notes · View notes

thegoldencontracts · 7 months ago

Note

hello!! this is my first request!! can u write azul saving reader from drowning and gets angry at them out of worry? not realizing that he confessed to them just now until it sinks in?

Hiii sorry this took so long! This concept is sooo good, hope I managed to do it justice aughhh

Because-!

Summary: Azul saves you after you fall into the Octavinelle pool. You're just hoping he doesn't expect repayment- Wait, why is he so upset?

Notes: There isn't much focus on the feeling of drowning, but there's still some. Anyways, hope you enjoy! Also, credit for the divider here!

If a Darwin award existed, you were really one of the prime candidates to win it, it seemed.

You'd fallen into a pool. Actually, that was fairly normal. There was a very real risk of people falling into pools, that was why most public pools hired life-guards.

Octavinelle's pool, however, didn't abide by that policy, and so there was no one around as you'd fallen in. The panic was setting in at a rapid pace.

You couldn't breathe. Water was filling up your lungs, and you couldn't even cry out for help, and you couldn't breathe-

A splash. Someone was in the pool. Were they- here to save you?

They were approaching - closer, and closer. But you didn't get to see whether they saved you or not, because before they could even get near you, your vision went dark.

You woke up. That was good. Were you- in the afterlife or something? The silver-haired boy above you did seem angelically pretty, after all...

"You're awake."

You felt your face heat up. Nevermind. You were very much alive, and that guy you just called pretty was, in fact, Azul Ashengrotto, Octavinelle Housewarden, your crush, and maybe your friend. The jury was still out on that one. Azul never really admitted his friendships, but he gave you free stuff, so that was probably a good sign.

Would this be free, though? Even with Azul's "no free lunch" mentality, this seemed a bit too far.

"So," you started, voice hoarse. "Do you, uh, need something."

Azul looked at you for a second, expression all too void of emotion. Then, he spoke.

"What exactly were you thinking?" He demanded. "Approaching the pool in spite of your lack of ability to swim is the height of foolishness! If you truly wanted to come here, you should've simply asked me to accompany you!"

An uncharacteristically enraged Azul yelling at you was definitely- something to wake up to.

"I almost died- dude-"

"Precisely!" Azul said, eyes still burning with rage. "Were I not there, you wouldn't-"

He sighed.

"Don't do something so foolish again."

That was it? Azul Ashengrotto, not even expecting repayment? Weird.

"Listen," you said. "It's awesome that you care, but I can handle myself. I've learned my lesson."

"You quite nearly died," Azul said through grit teeth. "What if that happens once more, without me there? You'd die! And even if it weren't for my love for you, I simply cannot have-"

He cut himself off at the realization of what he'd just said. You took a second to process it too. Azul- liked you?

The universe had taken pity on you! Your crush liked you back!

"I- er, forgive me," he said, turning away his head in shame. "I suppose I got a tad carried away. Please, just allow me to accompany you the next time you come here."

"Why don't you also accompany me on a date sometime?" You said, before you could stop yourself. Azul looked at you in shock for a second, before clearing his throat.

"Are you being serious about this invitation?"

You nodded.

"Dead serious."

"Then," he said. "I'd love to accompany you."

And though you could sense he still had a lot more chastising to you, that you hadn't yet escaped scolding, nor the physical consequences of almost drowning, you couldn't help but feel oddly warm inside.

It seemed you'd found a silver lining here.

#azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland #twst #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst azul #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x you #twst x reader #twst fanfic #fanfiction

153 notes · View notes

kitty-tea · 22 days ago

Text

Who is in control?

Link to masterlist

See warnings before proceeding because this is extremely dark

Warnings: Bullying, obsessive stalker behavior, angst, extremely dubious consent, hate sex, public sex, characters are of age, name calling, physical violence (please don’t actually get with your abusers in real life this is just fiction)

Do not read if you’re a minor or get triggered by this stuff

Draco Malfoy x reader (smut/18+ only)

Summary: Draco’s main reason for bullying you was because you were a Muggle-born. That wasn’t the only thing he wanted to do to you.

Word count: 3.9k

You felt as if your organs were about to spill out of your body as you caught the eyes of Draco Malfoy and the rest of his Slytherin gang, sauntering around the Great Hall like they owned the school. You were used to dealing with bullies even before you started attending Hogwarts, back at your Muggle school. It was as if the same types of people followed you wherever you went even though Draco was worse than any other bully from your old school. People knew you were shy and socially awkward, and they claimed that that’s the reason you were an easy target, but whenever you tried standing up for yourself, you were labeled as a trouble-maker. It was like you could never win in these situations.

When you came to Hogwarts, you were given a second chance to reinvent yourself with this new life in this new world, but unfortunately, it seemed aspects of your old life followed you here in the form of a platinum-haired boy.

It was no secret that you and Draco Malfoy hated each other’s guts. The whole school knew he loved to bully you, but what you hated even more than Draco himself was the fact that no one ever helped you.

You didn’t understand why it was Draco who specifically picked you out even though there were plenty of other Muggle-born students besides yourself. It was as if he had you reserved for himself while his friends were the ones who picked on the other students.

You looked around the Great Hall, hoping to look for an escape, but it was too late. You felt someone pulling on one of your braided strands of hair.

You let out a frustrated scream as you turned around and again met the eyes of the one person you dreaded seeing daily. You were starting to grow really sick of him. Opposite of your scowl was his malicious smile.

“What do you want?!” You got up from your seat and you shoved your hands against his chest trying to get him away from you, nearly knocking the goblet of pumpkin juice out of his hand.

“Ooh she touched me!” He yelled in mock-hurt, pointing his finger at you. Now all eyes were on you.

No matter how much you tried to go unnoticed and blend in with the crowd, Draco somehow always managed to pick you out, and turn you into a spectacle in a freak show, which you knew your kind was in the Wizarding World to Pure-blood supremacists like him.

“Leave me alone! You pulled on my hair!” You screamed back at him.

“I tripped!” Obviously what he was saying was not true and he was making no sense.

Refusing to engage with him anymore, you ignored the pairs of eyes on you as you grabbed your bag and tried shoving your way past him and his gang.

But before you could take a step past Draco, you felt a cold liquid spilling all over your shirt.

The sound of the other students laughing cut off any connection from your brain to your mouth, making you unable to yell the words that wanted to come out of you. Instead, it was just a loud gasp that echoed through your body.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Draco’s fake apology interrupted your silent, internal tantrum.

This time, you ignored his taunts that were along the lines of “Mudblood filth” and “dirtier than the floor.” You were finally able to run past the ignorant bystanders, tuning out their whispers and insults, making them all blur in your ears, just like the tears that were starting to invade your vision.

You ran until you found the nearest bathroom. You grabbed a handful of paper towels and wet them under the sink before rubbing them on the horrid stain as furiously as you could. You lost track of how long you’d been scrubbing your shirt for. Your mind was in a flurry, flashing back to all those times Draco had caused you pain and embarrassment.

As soon as your ears picked up the sound of footsteps outside the door, you ran into a random stall as fast as your feet would allow and you locked yourself in. You didn’t want to let more people see you cry.

“Did you do it, Pansy?” A bile made its way up your throat as you knew Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bullstrode (whose voice you recognized,) two of the Slytherin girls in your year were just outside.

“Of course I broke up with him. I’m done with Draco.” Pansy snorted. “I’m so sick of him being obsessed with that stupid Mudblood! I’m always having to hear him talk about that bitch!”

You didn’t need to hear your name to know they were referring to you.

“I know she’s so annoying.” Millicent said.

“Anyways,” Pansy continued. “I can’t wait until we graduate so I don’t have to see her everyday. Or worse case scenario, she doesn’t go back to where she came from, whilst she as well as her kind continue to steal more jobs from us real wizards and witches. I just hope she goes back where she came from. Bloody hell. I don’t know who I hate more now. That Hufflepuff bitch, or Draco for going on about her. It’s obvious he’s had this weird obsession with her for the longest time. That’s why he keeps touching her. I wouldn’t want to touch filth like that.”

Pansy took a deep breath before resuming her rant. “He swears it’s because he hates her so much. Honestly, I see through that bullshit. If he hates her so much, he’d do anything to not have to be in the same room as her. Don’t you think so?” She continued. You imagined that Millicent was nodding along. “Better get to class soon. Before we see that Mudblood.”

You let out a labored exhale as you heard the footsteps departing. Maybe Pansy and the rest of the Slytherins were right about you not deserving to live with the rest of wizardkind. For example, you had the instincts that made you fix your problems the “inferior” Muggle way such as trying to clean your shirt at the sink rather than reaching for your wand first.

You wiped your tears with your sleeve and left to go to the same classroom you were dreading going into.

When class was over, you should’ve known that Draco would be waiting for you outside the door. He wasn’t with his group of friends, and you were the last person to leave. With that realization that you were alone with him, the familiar feeling of dread that had been growing inside of you was about to explode, almost making you break down in another fresh batch of tears.

“What do you want from me?” You sighed, exhausted by his presence.

“I can’t hang out in the halls after classes?” Draco said, fake hurt in his voice. “Why do you always assume everything I do is about you?”

Maybe because you make it all about me? You wanted to throw back at him.

You couldn’t believe he had the audacity to ask that when all he did in your presence was torment you.

“Leave me alone.” Was all you said. Before you could turn your back to him, he grabbed your shoulder, using his strength to jerk you around so that your back was to the wall.

“I didn’t come to Hogwarts to have my time be ruined by Mudbloods like you!” After your bag slipped off your shoulder, you felt his iron grip on both of your wrists. You huffed and whimpered as you tried in vain to fight out of it. He raised your hands above your head and pressed his chest into yours, making all the air escape from your lungs.

“Let go of me! Why do you always pick on me?!” You wanted to kick him, but he already had his body weight against your thighs, immobilizing you.

You let your tears fall freely, not caring anymore about anything other than getting away from him. Through your blurry vision, you could make out that familiar sneer Draco always gave you.

“Because I can.” He answered your question. You internally recoiled as one of his hands came down, the backs of his knuckles caressing your wet cheek. ��Crying already?”

“Get off of me!” You protested, your voice becoming weaker as horror set into you at the realization of the heat growing between your legs. “I… h-hate you!” Your voice had now become a full whisper, more of a last ditch attempt at convincing yourself that you were in control of your own body.

That wasn’t the case since Draco had used his superior physical strength to drag you by the wrist until you were both hidden behind the stairwell.

“Draco stop! You’re hurting me! Please!” More tears spilled down your cheeks.

“Shut up.” He finally let go of your wrist and you felt like your arm could breathe again.

That relief that came over you was replaced with something you didn’t wish to understand as Draco’s icy stare washed over your entire body.

You brought your arm to your face, hoping to shield yourself from him, and used the sleeve of your blouse to wipe away more tears.

Before you could wipe your face, Draco had grabbed your wrist again, along with the other one, and moved them to where they previously were, above your head.

With the combination of the darkened gaze you felt over your body and the growing heat between your legs, you were unable to move or speak at this point.

You had never been this close to Draco before this other than those times he’d get on top of you and hit you, but this time, you could actually see something different in the way he looked at you. You had never seen him look at anyone that way before, not even Pansy. You couldn’t put into words how he was looking at you, as in you couldn’t say what he was thinking but rather feel his desire to do something to you that didn’t involve punching you.

He had his full body weight pressed against you between himself and the wall, and you could feel something poking your thigh. Apparently he had realized you felt his erection because he started smirking, then subtly pressing into you more.

You felt so pathetic being under his control like this, or in any way, but this was all new to you, and a dark, hidden part of you had awoken inside.

You didn’t pull away as he inched his face closer and closer to yours. Then, your lips touched.

The kiss was rough, just like his methods of picking on you. He kept fighting to be let in by you until you bit him.

“You fucking bitch! You hurt me!” He screamed as he let go of the kiss, or it was rather you that let him go. Hurt? You couldn’t believe he had the audacity to come at you like that as he was your bully after all.

You only stare back at him as he touched his fingers to his lower lip. With his free hand, he had still kept you in place by gripping onto your waist.

As if he couldn’t have become more unbelievable, he started chuckling under his breath while still massaging the area you bit him. He was standing and bending over so close to you that you felt the soft stands of his hair tickling your forehead and your cheek, making you shiver.

Your heart swelled with pride at seeing him hurt after all this time. You didn’t know you could have ever been capable of getting back at him even after everything he did to you.

As Draco let his laughter die down, he slid his hand up from your waist to grip all the way up your side until he reached your neck. You saw his eyes widening as a small moan escaped you without your consent. You continued squirming, being in disbelief at the warm wetness leaking through your panties.

“You’re such a filthy little bitch aren’t you? I bet your pussy’s all wet too.” It was as if Draco knew exactly what was happening to your own body.

You attempted to clench your thighs together as he squeezed your neck harder and used his other hand to pinch your skin, right next to where the lace trim of your panties was.

The sane part of you wanted to fight him off, but the other part of you, that you didn’t want to acknowledge existed, wanted more of him. In the end, the sane part of you had lost.

You didn’t care anymore if you’d feel disgusted with yourself later. You wanted Draco to keep going. You decided to thrust your hips into his hand to try to make him move until he pulled away.

“I knew it.” He said arrogantly, as if confirming to himself about what he assumed of you earlier.

“Please, Draco.” You moaned as his thumb that that was previously on your neck wiped a stray tear off your face.

“You want this don’t you, Mudblood?” He continued smirking as he pinched the skin on your thigh for a second time, making you shriek.

He cast his gaze lower until his eyes met your black and yellow striped tie, seemingly sneering at the colors. You were still panting and squirming under his fingers as your eyes followed to where they were looking.

You didn’t notice earlier that there was a bench suspiciously, conveniently next to you.

Twirling one of the two strands of your braided hair, Draco chuckled lowly against your ear, making your stomach tighten and your breath hitch.

You didn’t need magic or a verbal command to know what he wanted you to do.

Still gripping onto the same strand of your hair, he backed away from you, giving you room to move, or rather, room for him to use your hair as a leash as he pulled you over to where the bench was.

You caught yourself with your palms just as your back was about to hit the hard stone surface. Like all the other times Draco had beaten you up, he was on top of you except this time, he made no attempt to hide his true intentions for being in this position.

Instead of the punches and scratches you were used to receiving from him, he had started grabbing one of your breasts and continued to knead it. He was still being rough with you, but he was touching you somewhere that was normally associated with pleasure, toying with your feelings of confusion.

You should’ve been disgusted and uncooperative with him, so why were you wrapping your legs around him, you questioned yourself.

“Ow!” Even through the layers of the fabric of your shirt and bra, you could still feel the force he pinched your nipple with. You couldn’t believe that someone else inflicting pain would send a rush of heat between your legs.

“Fucking shit. You like that don’t you?” You didn’t realize you were thrusting your hips upward, until you heard him cuss under his breath.

With your body eager to give into its filthy instincts, you thrust harder, his bulge sliding along the thin, damp cotton gusset of your underwear.

As if a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on you, you gasped, taking in how flushed you must’ve looked.

You hated everything about this situation. You hated how your own bully was making you feel so good, you hated how the most intimate parts of your body craved him, you hated how you were acting like the same crybaby he always taunted you for being, and more than anything in the world, you hated him.

“Get up!” Draco snarled, pulling you out of your thoughts. You lay frozen where you were, and it wasn’t until he yanked on one of your braids (which came undone thanks to him pulling hard enough to loosen the ribbon) that you fell into his arms, your hands landing on his chest.

“Are you going to be a good little Mudblood this time?” Draco demanded as he gripped your shoulders. If it wasn't for your shirt covering that area, you were sure there would’ve been scratch marks or blood coming out.

Without giving you a chance to answer, he pressed his lips to yours, and this time, you let him in. You didn’t resist, opening your mouth further. He moved his lips against yours, as if he wanted to savor your taste. You had become too intoxicated to what you were giving each other, him sucking on the nectar provided by your mouth and you, on the languid flow of skin on skin.

Like a swimmer coming up to the surface for air, his mouth let go of yours. You shivered and had the instinct to huddle your arms against your chest as his eyes coldly raked over your body.

Your relief was short-lived when Draco pushed you forward, forcing you to fall on the bench and catch yourself on your elbows. You realized your skirt did nothing to cover you, revealing your white panties to him from behind.

You made a noise that sounded like a mixture between sobbing and gasping as you felt his cock pushing against where your body wanted him the most.

“You want more, little bitch?” He whispered. You nodded, digging your nails into the bench so hard you thought you might bleed.

You cried out as he snapped the damp fabric against your pussy.

“Please, please!” You whimpered. You silently hoped he wouldn’t force you to beg for his cock, but knowing him you already predicted he’d do just that.

“Tell me,” It started as a harsh whisper against your ear. “That you’re really a dirty Mudblood slut.”

“I-I’m a dirty Mudblood slut.” You repeated without missing a beat.

“That all you’re ever good for is fucking.”

“Please Draco! All I’m ever good for is fucking!” You knew how idiotic the sentences coming out of you sounded, and it made more tears spill out of you.

It wasn’t long until he pulled down your panties to your knees on the ground. You buried your face in your arms, too ashamed to turn around to see how much he was smirking at your exposed cunt, plush and swollen with your juices coating it.

You felt something wet on your folds, which you assumed was his tongue. Draco continued to lick along your soft folds until he reached your clit.

“Fuck.” You squeaked out as his tongue moved along the bundle of nerves. With every thrust you gave him, the tip of his nose would nudge your entrance, no doubt overloading his sense of smell with your arousal.

“What was that, Mudblood?” Draco tugged at your hair, but you tried to use what little strength you had left to keep your head down, avoiding his eyes.

“Fuck you.” You whispered.

“Go on, then.” As soon as he let go of your hair, his fingers were back inside you, letting the stickiness wrap around them. That wasn’t enough for you. Your body craved more, something bigger that could fill you up.

“Please, Draco.” Your sobs were muffled by your hands over your face. “Please. I want… My cunt wants your cock so fucking bad. All I want-”

“Enough!” He pinched one of your folds, effectively shutting you up. “You don’t get to have my cock just because you want it.”

“I’m sorry!” You repeated those words over and over. “I know! I know only you get what you want. Please take me! Take my cunt!”

“And why would I do that?” It was a rhetorical question.

“Because it’s what you want from me!” He didn’t care about your own pleasure. Why should someone descended from Pureblood royalty bother with a lower life form such as a Mudblood?

Finally, your aching hole was filled with his cock. It was perfect, just the right size to stretch you out, but also be able to squeeze him.

Neither you nor Draco spoke, as the sounds of your skin slapping your wetness against his cock was the only thing heard in the otherwise empty air.

You let him control your body, with his hands gripping your hips as he plummeted into you. The upper half of his body shadowed over yours, ominously trapping you, a reminder of who was in charge, who was superior.

The pleasure started settling through your blood, overcoming what little dignity you had left. It was this that caused the sounds you tried to hold in to burst through your lips. Draco’s hand pressed over your mouth, acting as the patch to the hole.

He wasn’t doing any better with keeping himself quiet. He was much worse.

While he used the strength of his body to act as your cage to squeeze you from the outside, your cunt had become a cage itself for him, having the same effect on his cock.

You were starting to feel it. The tightening inside your stomach grew harder to ignore the more he thrust into you. You didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to break that tension inside you.

Something inside you had snapped, making you lose control in a way not even Draco could tame. There you were, screaming in the middle of a hidden corridor, getting fucked senselessly by your bully.

Deep within your still spasming body, you felt his cock stiffening then pulsing a few times. Draco reached around your leg and started rubbing your clit, still pulsing and oversensitive from your orgasm. You were unable to stop your entire body from convulsing around him.

As if you couldn’t feel any more stuffed, hot liquid started to coat your walls in multiple bursts. You allowed him to stay inside you and fuck your cunt until he slowed down.

When he had softened inside of you, he circled his arm around your waist and pulled you down so that you were sitting on his lap.

You relaxed into his touch as his fingers brushed through your hair, untangling it from the mess he caused.

An odd, unwelcoming sense of relaxation and comfort came over you in the hands of the person who had hurt you in the past as much as he had pleasured you less than five minutes ago.

Feeling the postponed shame wash over you, you let a tear stream down your cheek. Draco couldn’t see your face, and you preferred it that way.

Grabbing your underwear from its place around your knees, you slide yourself out of him as quickly as you could put the garment on to cover yourself.

From behind you, you heard Draco zipping himself up as well as the buckle of his belt being moved into place. In your peripheral vision, you saw him pick something up off the floor, probably your ribbon before putting it in his pocket.

That sicko can keep it as some trophy. You thought, rolling your eyes.

Draco stepped closer to you, and you wanted to hide your reddened face behind your hair, but he grabbed ahold of it. You were confused and you thought he would hurt you again, but you were frozen in place. His eyes had that effect on you.

He stared at you unnervingly as he started to fix your hair, then tied it off with the ribbon, making it look just as it did this morning.

—

A/n: I’m intending for this to be a drama story more than romance/love story since there’s just mostly heavy toxic relationship type of stuff even though they’re not technically a couple in this one shot.

#harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy x reader #smut fanfiction #fanfiction #draco malfoy fic #hp smut #slytherin boys #reader insert #Draco Malfoy #tumblr fanfic

59 notes · View notes