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muntitled · 6 months ago

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𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓!

- How svt hip hop unit would react to you using your safeword

- cw: fluff, established relationships, humor, slight angst, quickies, rough sex, smut, breeding, degradation, safewords, +18, mdni, mingyu as his own warning

Always be safe, xo

⤑ Seungcheol

"This is good right? You're good?" Over and over again, Seungcheol had peppered you with reassurances. They bounced off the bases of his soft, pillowy lips with the same convictions as the wet kisses he was leaving on the side of your face.

You could feel how rough he was beginning to get.

"You like this, don't you?" You were swimming deep in subspace, a land of pink pillowy nothingness where your brain essentially became a tabularasa. A blank fucking slate.

Like a fucking concrete monolith was stationed between your thighs, rutting against you harder and harder the more time that seems to ebb between you.

"F-Fuck, baby you're so tight, huh? Such a tight little princess for me?" He was completely and utterly delirious. You can't crane your hand to look at him no matter how badly you wish to. Your back flat against the polished wood of his desk, and his hand around your throat keeps you there as Seuncheol traps you underneath him. He fucking loved being framed by your soft, pillowy thighs. They got tighter and weaker intermittently around him, all while he whispered the most vile words into your ear.

"Y-Yeah- Cheol- fuck-" Seungcheol watches in pained ecstacy at your blissed out state, completely catching him in the height of his own Dom space. With your tongue lolling out, Seungcheol dips down to whisper straight into your open mouth, "You're such a pretty little slut you know that-"

He was squeezing the base of your throat as he rutted into you. More and more you began to wonder if you were even a person anymore.

"Just a pretty fucking slut for me to use-"

You felt like an object.

A toy.

And despite your walls clenching around his cock your hand flew to his wrist. "Ch-Cheol-"

"You're gonna make me cum, you stupid fucking bitch-"

"Cheol-"

"F-Fuck you're such a dumb little girl-"

"CHEOL- Ohmygod-PEACH-" as if released by some evil spell, Seungcheol immediately uncuffs his iron grip from the base of your throat. He is off of yoy in five seconds, creating as much distance possible while his chest rises and falls and rises and falls. You turn slightly, eyes wide and brimming with... something. It wasn't fear, Seungcheol would hate himself if it was that.

"Baby- I-"

"Could we maybe like, ease up on the name calling. J-Just a little."

He looks fucking devastated "Fuck, I'm- genuinely so-"

"I know. Babe, it's not your fault."

"When you said Degradation I just-" he shakes his head. He wasn't about to blame you. Anything but that. "Fuck I'm sorry-"

"Hey, you're so good. So good. I'm just not into it as much as I thought I was and that was an error on my part."

"Don't fucking apologize. Thank you for telling me."

"Thank you for being a safe enough place to tell." You shrug.

Seungcheol looks around the messy room with deflated shoulders.

"Are we.. do you- I mean I could run you a bath-"

"Get inside me, I was still close,"

⤑Wonwoo

There isn't a moment that Wonwoo isn't always just a little bit overly cautious during your various sexual escapes.

Whether it was a quickie in the bathroom of a Michelin Star restaurant or a divinely long session of lovemaking under the wooden beams of the ceiling, with both your bodies submerged in a sea of blankets. So completely consumed with one another, you've already filled the entire expanse of the messy California king with all your tussling and lovemaking. Wonwoo is always careful.

Infuriatingly so.

Howevsr, there are moments like tonight, where the stars were aligned just a little differently, and your long-term boyfriend was feeling all the more frisky.

You can feel his hands everywhere the very second he stormed into your bedroom from being cooped up in study.

What you expected would be the usual, sober, safe, sex with Wonwoo quickly bled into something else when he pushed open your legs and pulled down your underwear along with your tight pink bum shorts in a single fell swoop.

"Uh -" Your body just let itself be undressed by him. All you could do was watch your boyfriend and his stoney visage as he paid special attention to undressing you. The warm glow of the overhead lights shone off his glasses as he lifted your torso up as if it was nothing, undressing you as if you were a child with underdeveloped motor skills.

"Did everything go okay at work-"

"I can't write. Jihoon wants to record tomorrow and I still haven't written my verse," Wonwoo pays extra attention to rubbing his hands on your soft supple skin. His shadow falls over you as you feel completely vulnerable underneath him, and he has yet to spare your actual eyes even a single glance.

"I'm sure every amazing rapper's had writer's block once and a whi- FUCK!" Your head shot back into the pillows as Wonwoo buried his face in between your legs, eating you out with the most fervour he'd ever radiated in a single sitting. Gone was the poised, level headed Wonwoo. He died somewhere between the pages of his coffee stained notebook.

"God- Wonwoo-" he sticks his tongue out, lapping hungrily at your cunt that only gushes for him. He hums against the tortured skin and your fingers immediate reach for his scalp.

"Fuck-" he mumbles against your cunt before lifting his head, "Can't work like this-" he says before pulling off his thick rimmed glasses and discarding it somewhere on the bed. Your eyes cross the moment his plush lips rub against your cunt and your hips lift almost automatically from the bed. His hands are encircled around your ample thighs, promising you you're not going anywhere and his mouth visibly moves as he begins to eat you out in the most literal, most vile display of eating out you'd ever witness.

One tap on your thigh let's you know you're not watching him like he wants you to. Eye contact was sacred and Wonwoo always let you know.

You gain enough energy to crane you head down to make eye contact but the second you see his mess of overgrown hair, tousled from your harsh grip, or the eager, half lidded eyes, you're completely done for. You gush all over his face, and your limbs wrack and writhe, but he keeps you locked there.

"W-Wonwoo- Fuck-i cant-"

He doesn't listen, as if trapped in his own reverie of pussy-drunk pleasure as he continues to slurp at your cunt with his mouth sucrioned onto your clit.

"Wonwoo- Baby- please-"

He's far too locked away in the essence of you, way too fargone in the softness of your cunt to begin to realize you're becoming way too overstimulated.

It's only when you're tapping furiously at the side of his head, furiously screaming, "YODA! FUCK- YODA-" that he's ungluing his puffy lips from your poor clit, breathing heavily with his eyes wide as ifhed just been set free from the shackles of a spell. You're crying. That's the first thing he noticed. The second is your quivering legs, shaking like autumn leaves in the wind. Your bottom lip is shaking too, that's what gets him scrambling beside you where he immediately envelops you in the warmth of his embrace.

"I'm sorry, Princess-" and you can tell he means it, but still you weep silently.

Your voice is quivering as you say, "You-You know I can't go again so quickly after... after..." Your chest rises and falls and rises and falls and Wonwoo immediately presses your face into his chest, to let you air out all the bad emotions onto his plain white tee.

"I thought I was doing something good for you, but I only ended up thinking about myself," he admits against your forhead, where his lips refuse to part.

"I just... needed a break from work-" he says, "I'm sorry," and you forgive him because It's him.

⤑Mingyu

"Shh," he whispers, pulling your braids across your shoulders as he makes direct eye contact with you in the mirror, "This'll be really quick, I promise."

"I dunno, bro-" you whisper back, despite your hands already gripping the marble finishes of the bathroom sink. "Your quickies are never as quick as they need to be-" you say, pushing you ass back against the bulge in his designer jeans as you lower your torso to the sink.

Mingyu smiled from the mirror, something diabolical, his hair cropped, and his skin crisp from the warm, orange glow of the bathroom. Outside, somewhere down a labyrinth of corridors, the rest of his group sat in the VIP section of the televised award show. All of them humming along to whatever group has taken the stage with the hopes that their rapper would make it out on time for their own performance.

"You just indirectly told me I last long, baby," he says, clutching his heart through his Balmain dress shirt while making heart eyes at you through the mirror.

"Hurry or you're gonna miss your-"

"Fuck you're so wet- why are you so wet?" Mingyu rubs the softness of your ass while examining the gush of arousal coating your panties. He lifts his head, "I'm going to breed you-"

"Mingyu-"

He's already pulling his pants down, quick enough to pull his dick out and shove it inside your cunt. Your lips part and your head pushes against the mirror and you're seeing absolute stars. Quickies with Mingyu always felt particularly barbaric because of how sloppy he tended to get. His tongue practically rolled out his mouth like the golden retriever he was so often described to be, while he rutted into you with some base heavy trap song pouring through the speakers.

"F-Fuck, Mingyu- please,"

What he thought was a silent plead for more, spurred Mingyu. He was an insatiable brute as he laid a hand on your back, pushing you further against the sink. When the side of your face hit the marble, your blood ran cold.

"I'm going to fucking breed you , baby." His eyes are obscured by heavily tinted designer shades and his head his thrown back in ecstasy. He was beginning to drill his cock into you and you were beginning to find there is nothing you can do about it.

"'Gyu- you can't come inside, you know that-"

"I really don't think you should be on those pills anymore, babe-"

You instinctively lift your head to try to glimpse him through the mirror because he was talking crazy. His hand lifts his shirt as he drills into you, revealing his chiseled core and a near perfect lopsided smile.

"Are you talking about my birth control?"

Instead of giving you a response: "Down-" He grunts, forcing you to bend over again as his thrusts became sloppily and sloppily, "Almost there, don'wanna miss the performance-"

"Mingyu you're not cumming inside me-"

"Fuck- why not? You're so perfect and so tight. Your body's just begging for me to fuck a baby into it-"

"PEPPERONI-" You scream immediately bullying him off of you until he's stumbling backwards and your back is pressed against the marble. You watch him shake his head, pants loose around his waist and yet he still somehow locked infuriatingly perfect.

"What the fuck- DUDE!" You can barely keep the anger from seeping out of your voice as you glare down your irresponsible boyfriend.

"WHAT THE FUCK-"

"I didn't finish!" he whines while stomping on the ground with his heavy sneakers.

"Were you seriously going to finish inside me!? After I explicitly told you-"

"Shh, shh," Mingyu says, stepping towards you to even out the angry creases on your forhead. "It was just for the fantasy, babe," he whispers, "Just for the fanatsy,"

⤑ Vernon

You didn't wanna say the word. It just sorta slipped. Straddling Hansol while some Pixar film played in the back was definitely not how you expected your second sexual encounter to go. There was still so much you had to learn about one another. Your bodies were vast fields of uncharted territory, and you weren't particularly sure Vermon would like all of those parts.

"Fuck, you're so hot- he whispers against your bare chest because discarding your shirt had been the first order of business. "So beautiful-"

You had begun rutting against him, with your skirt falling over his sweatpants, and your breathing became heavier and heavier. There was no explaining the tension that bubbled as your cunt rubbed greedily against his front but you were well aware of that feeling.

"God, you feel so damn good," he whispers, "You gonna cum for me?" Hansol's voice is utterly dripping with sex and all you can do is whimper as you dig your fingers into his hair- "Hansol, I-"

"Fuck, I think you're gonna cum from humping me, baby? Thats so hot..." A pool of wetness trickled from your cunt and it stole all the strength to immediately push yourself off screaming "NEMO-" you tapped out.

"Woah-" Vernon looks confused, justifiably so as you scoot to the floor, your legs quivering underneath you as your orgasm ebbed away.

"What do you need?"

You evade eye contact as you speak. "I just... didn't wanna disgust you or anything-"

"Dude, 'disgust' is literally the last thing on my mind. What's the problem?" You're still unable to make eye contact, causing Vernon to sigh as he sits forward with his elbows on his knees, to get closer to you in height.

"Is it the movie? I never thought Pixar would end up being a cockblock-"

"I nearly squirted." You admit. "Like everywhere-"

A moment of silence swells between you two and you can feel your heart sinking with every passing second. You wish to be anywhere but here. You could already smell all the warm popcorn you would ingest out of heartbreak, all the movies you'd-

"Fuck, and you thought that would 'disgust' me?" You peer up at him in pure wonder while lust descends on his visage like a shadow. "Sit on my face right now."

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gothamghostwhispers · 19 days ago

Note

It starts as a chuckle but quickly becomes maddened laughter that seems to emanate from everywhere as the glass of his vessel begins to glow. It’s a harsh enraged sound that eventually quiets to a few chuckles

“I warned you, but you do not listen well. Consider yourself Trapped and under My Spell.”

Edward finds himself in a massive glad jar with an open lid, Artem is there. They also appear to be giant in comparison to him, but they seem proportional to the jar. They begin adding giant spices to the jar.

“Sprig of an apple tree, belladonna, mugwort, and a splash of psychic enhancing oil so his dreams are easier to enter… clove and licorice root for domination and control of said dream… dream recollection oil so he doesn’t forget, chili flakes and powder so that shit burns and a few drops of fear toxin… to keep him afraid”

The giant jar he is in is then sealed with a lid, picked up, and shaken.

He let out a bunch of verbose shouts and a bit of profanity.

#whispers #edward nygma #magic experiments #nightmare arc #(Artem May or May not be falling into spiritual psychosis rn)#(being driven mad by the strain of not upholding their promise to be a great parent)#(also I don’t think he’ll do this but that was the ingredients list for the actual spell he’s under)#(so he could like talk to an evil wizard about this or something)

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cornerstoreclown · 16 days ago

Text

Workshop Fun

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

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

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

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You loved him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or, well, you hoped.

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

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

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

You dressed up nicely for him tonight.

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

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

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

Your stomach flutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not yet,” You tell him.

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

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

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

“What’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After a few seconds of silence, you sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now it’s boiling over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stare at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was pure bliss.

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

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

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

You could be next.

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

You ache, feeling more empty than ever.

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

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

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

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

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

“…Please?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alive.

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

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

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

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

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

“Ow!”

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

“Glad you got some entertainment out of it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your phone goes off.

You forgot to silence it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!”

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

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

“Art, don’t do it—“

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

“Art, I swear to god—“

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

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

What a gentleman. Truly.

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

“Hello?”

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

“Hellooooo?”

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

“Hey.” You answer wearily.

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

“How are you?”

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

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

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

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

“I… I’m uh–”

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

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

“Art?" He repeats.

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

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

“You know, p-painting? Drawing. That sort of thing.”

You can only pray the ungodly sinful noises of his skin slapping against yours can’t be heard over the line.

“Ohhh… Well, hey, you wanna hangout sometime soon? It’s been a bit. Wanted to catch up with you if that’s fine.”

You’re not paying attention to a damn thing this dude is saying. It’s just words, in one ear, straight out the other.

“Uhuh.” You say without thinking. You’re close. You’re unbearably close as Art angles himself in such a way that hits just right. He knows how you work all too well. He knows how to unwind you and how to pull you apart piece by piece like it’s second nature to him.

Art’s pushing you towards the cliff, and there’s no stopping it. Your vision starts to blur a little. Your breathing deepens, and Art knows what’s about to come next, which only seems to spur him on as well, exciting him to the point where now he’s going fast not just for you, but for himself, chasing his own orgasm hot on its heels.

“How’s about next Thursday, at 7pm? There’s a new restaurant across the street from where we both met—“

The phone becomes nothing short of white noise. This shouldn’t feel so right, it shouldn’t. But it does. Gods above, it does.

You feel yourself lose sense of the world around you. There’s nothing but ringing in your ears, and you realize how little time you have to prepare before it’s too late.

Your orgasm crashes into you and is ripped out of you all within seconds. You try to keep quiet, your voice strangled and choked out in the process. Your release is violent as it tears you between what feels like the state of life and death. Your cunt tightens around his cock, squeezing him in contractions that trigger him in turn. Art hisses like a serpent, feeling his muscles lock up and knowing that he only has a few seconds to bury himself to the hilt within you, and he does. His face twists into an ugly and horrid expression as he comes inside you, dropping the phone on the workbench in the process while filling you with all the pent up energy he had been keeping away from you for months.

All of what he’d been denying you was now yours.

“Hello?”

You’re finally coming back into your own body a few meager seconds later when you register the voice, and hurriedly grab the phone before Art gets the chance.

“Can I call you back?” You ask, holding the phone to your mouth, but you weren’t really asking. Your friend had no real say in it, and before he even gets the chance to respond, you hang up. And then you lower your head and sigh. All the while, Art has since recovered, but his legs are shaky. You shove him off of you, and he stumbles back with an uneven balance, post orgasm weakened. Goofily he fumbles past the stool from earlier, which he tries to grab but fails in doing so. Instead, he lands right on his ass.

You’re sure to follow that up by throwing your phone at his head, which it does, but it lands with a clack right beside him. The only reason you felt remotely confident in doing that is because you’re both that close. Well, that and irritation made you a bold motherfucker sometimes. Yet despite all of that, he sits there, a wickedly amused smile on his face.

You pull your dress back down. Your legs tingle and you swear you feel some of his come dripping down your thigh, but you’re not sure.

“Proud of yourself, huh?” You ask, leaning against the bench for balance until you get your footing.

Yes. Yes he was proud of himself!

The rest of the night was spent at Art’s temporary hideaway space, lamenting the loss of your panties and calling back your guy friend who had unknowingly been part of something much more than he knew. And you’d never tell him. Not that you would ever have the chance to tell him really anything at all anymore in the future.

You had no idea at the time that Art would meet your friend the day you were both set to reconvene. But you should have known better, and a part of you already did. The reason you know he was dead was because he ended up on the local news the next day missing.

That, and Art had saved the man’s heart specifically for you when you came to visit him again.

#art the clown #terrifier #art the clown x you #art the clown x reader #slasher x you #slasher x reader #x reader

493 notes · View notes

thewidowsledger · 24 days ago

Text

Rumpelstiltskin

Pairings: Demon!Natasha Romanoff x Summoner!Female Reader

Word count: 3.1k

Tags | Warnings: +18, bad writing, smut, fluff (kinda), top!Natasha, virgin bottom!reader, cunnilingus (r receiving), Natty is an empath demon who gives you reassurance😩

Author's Note: I wrote this in a rush and changed some parts, but I hope this turned out as what you expected sweet potato! 🍠 Request

⧗

“Hm, I do what you ask of me,” she recited, her voice a dark rumble. “And in return, you give me something you own. Something precious to you.”

⧗

You were lounging on your couch, your small form a tiny fitting. You absentmindedly swiped your hand across the coffee table, knocking over a potted plant in the process. The ceramic pot shattered on the floor, dirt spilling everywhere as the plant lay broken and lifeless.

Your eyes widened slightly as you noticed the plant was one of Wanda’s favorites. You knew how much she cared for each of her plants, treating them like precious children—well your best friend loved her plants more than you. So you immediately sprang into action, frantically gathering the broken pieces of the plant and trying to scoop up the spilled dirt. You panicked, knocking over a nearby vase in the process, causing it to shatter on the floor as well.

The room was now a mess, with shattered ceramic, spilled dirt, and broken plant parts scattered everywhere. Your panicked attempts to clean up the mess only made it worse, causing you to knock over a lamp and send books tumbling to the floor.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit!”

You let out a heavy sigh as you looked around at the remaining mess. You knew you couldn't afford to leave anything undone, not with Wanda's keen eye for detail. So you started to clean the broken lamps, put the books back in place, but you have no idea how to replace her favorite plant! Her children!

“She’ll know, won’t she?” you shakingly muttered to yourself, running a dirty hand through your disheveled hair. You looked around at the mess, knowing you still have a night ahead of you before Wanda comes back.

You whined softly to yourself as you vacuumed the rug, your imagination running wild with scenarios of Wanda’s anger. “She’s probably going to kill me...or worse, sacrifice me to have her plants back!” you dramatically collapsed onto the couch, clutching a throw pillow to your chest. You stopped your tantrum. Suddenly, an idea struck you. You bolted upright on the couch, your eyes wide with realization.

“Sacrifice...summon…” you whispered to yourself. An evil grin spread across your face as you formulated a plan.

You rushed to the bookshelf, pulling out a dusty, ancient tome from the section Wanda had labeled “Cursed Spells & Failed Experiments” you had a vague recollection of them attempting a summoning spell from this book before, with comical results.

You flipped through the brittle pages, your eyes scanning for the summoning incantation. You paused, remembering your previous attempt—Wanda had mispronounced a keyword, causing a burst of colorful smoke and a very confused parrot to appear instead of the demon they intended to summon before you two bursted out laughing.

The spell was there, marked with a crude drawing of a demon and a large X through it. You snorted, remembering how Wanda had insisted that the X meant “extra powerful” rather than “do not attempt.” You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the strange feeling brewing in your stomach, you’re not gonna summon a demon right now, instead an entity that can revitalized Wanda’s plant, some creature of sort.

You laid out the required component; a candle, a small dagger, and what the book vaguely referred to as “essence of the earth.”

Taking a deep breath, you began to recite the incantation, your voice low and gravelly. The ancient words felt foreign on your tongue, but you pressed on, determined to see this through.

“Spiritus sylvarum…”

The very fabric of Wanda's home began to tremble and shake. Pictures rattled on the walls, and the furniture groaned as if the house itself was protesting the unnatural summoning.

“Exumbrae ad me…”

You didn't stop, eager to complete the ritual. Your voice grew stronger, more confident, as you spat out the final words.

“Revigorare plantae et herbae, in nomine terrae matris…”

The darkness in the room seemed to coalesce, growing denser and more intense.

As the final words left your lips, a shockwave of dark energy exploded outward. The refrigerator rattled violently, and the fluorescent lights flickered ominously. You expected to see an ethereal nature spirit materialize before you. Instead, a tall, imposing figure emerged from the shadows, her eyes glinting with malice and amusement.

The figure solidified, revealing the demon in all her terrifying glory. Her skin was pale as bone, her features sharp and angular. Her auburn hair braided and she was clad in black armor that seemed to absorb the light. Her gaze fell upon you, her expression one of utter disdain.

Her gaze returned to you, her eyes roaming hungrily over your form. Her crimson gaze was like a physical caress, tracing the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts, the length of your legs. Her lips peeled back from his teeth in a predatory grin.

She is hungry.

Her gaze never left yours as she crossed her arms over her chest, affecting an air of nonchalance despite the hunger burning within her.

“Why am I being summoned upon, princess?”

You backed away involuntarily, your breath hitching in your throat. Her presence was overwhelming, her power pressing against you like a physical weight. You stammered, struggling to find your voice.

“I-I... I summoned you because... because…”

Your words tumbled out in a rushed, panicked mess.

“Ididntsummonademon!”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you begged, your voice thick with desperation. You weren't sure if you were more afraid of her terrifying presence or Wanda's wrath if she found out you'd tampered with her precious plants.

“Why am I being summoned upon?” She repeated again, much firmer and scary this time.

“Pleasefixmyfriendsplant!”

She watched you with a cruel smirk, clearly enjoying your distress. She took another step forward, closing the distance between you.

“Aww, is the little mortal upset about a silly plant?” she taunted, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.

Her laughter echoed through the room, cold and mirthless. “You expect me, a mighty demon, to fix a mere plant?” she threw her head back, laughing harder at the absurdity of it all.

“Stupid, stupid humans,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Risking their lives for something so trivial.” She reached out, her long, pale fingers caressing your cheek, tracing the path of your tears.

“How adorable.”

Her laughter subsided, her gaze once again turning hungry as she took in your terrified state. Your fear was intoxicating, feeding her hunger and satisfying her more than any pleas for help ever could.

“Oh, princess, you don't know how much your fear pleases me,” she purred.

She leaned in closer, her breath hot against your ear. “You know what else would please me?” She whispered, her voice a dark, seductive purr. “If you'd make a bargain with me. Anything, in exchange for fixing that pitiful plant.”

Her eyes glinted with eager anticipation as you nodded dumbly, your fear clouding your judgment. “Excellent,” she hissed, her voice barely containing her glee. “A contract, at last! I've been so hungry for one.”

“Hm, I do what you ask of me,” she recited, her voice a dark rumble. “And in return, you give me something you own. Something precious to you.” She paused, a wicked smile spreading across her face. She licked her lips, barely concealing her excitement as you nodded eagerly, surrendering yourself to the contract without a second thought. Your desperate obedience only fueled her hunger.

“Now let me see the thing that's worth risking your soul for.”

You turned around, pointing a shaking finger at the pathetic plant sitting on the table. Its once-vibrant leaves were now shriveled and brown, the pot cracked, and the soil dry and lifeless.

“Magical, but finicky little things, aren't they?” she observed, circling the withered plant like a predator. “Out of the soil for too long, and they'll perish in an instant.”

In a blink of an eye, the plant burst back to life, its vibrant green leaves unfurling as if they'd never wilted. She sneered, satisfied with her handiwork. She snapped her fingers, and Wanda's living room indeed, her entire house—was restored to pristine condition.

“There,” You stared in disbelief, your mouth agape. “And I've done more than you asked of me,” she purred, stepping closer. “I expect the same eagerness from you, princess.” Her fingers brushed your chin, tilting your face up.

Your hand flew immediately to your neck, fumbling with the delicate chain until you pulled out an old, intricately carved locket. Tears welled in your eyes as you clutched it to your chest. “This... this is from my grandmother. She gave it to me before she passed away because it will protect me.”

Her green orb eyes narrowed as she listened, a flicker of interest sparking in their depths. She stepped closer, looming over you. “Your grandmother's necklace, you say? How... sentimental.” Her voice was a low purr, tinged with dark amusement.

The demon’s gaze softened almost imperceptibly. She saw the pain and longing in your eyes, the struggle between your attachment to the heirloom and your desperate desire to have your friend’s plants restored.

“And how was this trinket supposed to protect you?” her voice was gentler, curious. You took a deep, shuddering breath, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“My noo—my grandmother was a wise woman,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “She told me that as long as I wore it, I'd always have her love with me. That it would shield me from darkness.” You looked up at her, tears spilling down your cheeks.

She listened intently, studying your face as you spoke. A flicker of something almost like sympathy crossed her features before being quickly masked. She turned the delicate necklace over in her hands, examining it closely.

“Your noona... she’s found peace, princess. A paradise beyond the reach of this world's sorrows.”

You stared at her, shocked. Your jaw hung open, and your eyes widened. You had grown accustomed to her cold indifference and mockery. But this... this was something else entirely. A demon, an ice-cold demon, was comforting you?

She uncurled her fist, revealing the unscathed necklace. To your surprise, she stepped closer, her chilling presence enveloping you. Gently, she lifted the necklace, her fingers brushing against your skin as she secured it around your neck once more. She lingered for just a moment, her hot breath ghosting over your skin as she fastened the clasp with a soft click.

“There,” she said, her voice back to its usual detached tone. “Now, keep that... memento of your grandmother's love. I want something else in return.” Her gaze sharpened, refocusing on you. “Something... that you possess,” she finished, her eyes gleaming with an unreadable emotion.

“A promise, perhaps. Or maybe a secret." She stepped closer, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper.

“I... I'm... I'm still pure,” you stammered, your cheeks flaming red as you confessed. It was the truth and a secret that not even your best friend knows.

Her eyebrows shot up, surprise flashing across her face before her expression returned to its usual unreadable mask. “Interesting,” she murmured, leaning even closer. “So, all this time, you've been... untouched.”

She reached out, her cold fingers gently tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze once more. “And why is that, little one? Why have you kept yourself...pure?” her voice was barely a whisper, her breath chill against your lips. “Is it because…you're waiting for someone special?” She finished, her eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “Or perhaps…” her other hand came up to rest on your waist, her touch searing even through your clothes. “...you simply haven't found anyone worthy of claiming your innocence yet?”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. You felt like she was peeling back layers of your soul, exposing your deepest fears and desires. Her hand on your waist tightened ever so slightly, and you found yourself leaning into her touch without even realizing it. “Tell me, little one, have you ever toyed with your own innocence? Caressed your own flesh? Discover the secrets of your own body?” Her words were like velvet-covered steel, coercive and alluring, drawing out the truth you'd never spoken aloud before.

You turned your face away from her but her green orbs seemed to glow brighter. She leaned in closer, her gaze boring into yours, and suddenly, you felt a strange, invasive pressure against your mind. She was looking into your thoughts, seeing the truth laid bare.

She saw...everything.

She saw the night you’d snuck into your room, fingers trembling as you’d reached under your shirt to touch your small, untouched breasts. He saw your frustrated attempts to relieve the ache between your legs, your fingers fumbling and ineffective as you’d struggled to find any sort of release.

Her lips curled into a wicked smirk as she withdrew from your mind, leaving you feeling violated and exposed. She brought her hand up to your face, her thumb brushing over your lower lip. “Oh, you poor, frustrated little thing,” she purred, her voice dripping with mock sympathy.

“All that fire, all that need, and nowhere for it to go. You’d touch yourself, so curious, so eager to learn... but your inexperienced fingers could never quite bring you the relief you craved, could they?”

Your reaction was immediate and visceral. Your breath hitched in your throat, and your heart skipped a beat as she spoke about your deepest secret.

“I will take your secret…and so is your purity.”

Her eyes flashed with a predatory gleam as she sensed your hesitation and the war raging within you—the desire to submit to her dark temptations battling against your ingrained purity. She pressed her advantage, her hand sliding up your side to cup your breast through your shirt.

Shame and disgust at allowing a demon such intimate access warred with the undeniable pleasure of her touch. You felt pathetic, weak, as if you were betraying everything you stood for.

You shivered at the touch, your breath growing shallow as the cool air hit your bare chest. She leaned down and whispered, “No one will ever care for you like I will, my precious little human.”

Her eyes gleamed with dark triumph as she finished unbuttoning your shirt. She pushed it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. “That's right, my sweet. You're mine now, bound to me by contract until the day you die.”

“What a delectable prize you are.” She traced patterns on your chest, her fingers dipping down to your belly, then lower, to the tie of your pants.

With a sudden, brutal move, she pushed your legs apart and shoved you back onto the couch, pinning your shoulders to the cushions. Before you could even catch your breath, she was kneeling between your spread bare thighs, her face mere inches from your dripping pussy.

“Look at you,” she hissed, “So open, so ready. You may have sold your soul, but your body was made for me.”

She lowered her head, her cold tongue flicking out to lap at your heated flesh. You gasped, your hips bucking forward, only to be held down by her strong hands.

Your fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs as you gripped them tightly, torn between the urge to push her away and the insidious pull to spread wider and invite more of her touch. You had, after all, sold your soul to her, hadn't you?

You bit your lip to stifle a moan as her cool, silken demon tongue delved into your wet folds. She licked up your juices, then pushed the tip of her tongue deep inside you, fucking you with it as she sucked hard on your clit.

Your moans grew louder, more desperate, as she ate you out with a fervor that left you breathless. The sensation of her cold, demonic tongue inside you was unlike anything you'd ever experienced, and you found yourself pushing back against it, desperate for more.

“Oh God!”

“Even God won't help you right now princess…”

Your back arched, your body tension as an overwhelming wave of sensation crashed over you. You screamed, your voice hoarse with passion, as you convulsed against her mouth. She drank you down, her hands tightening on your hips to hold you in place as she continued to lap at your over-sensitive flesh.

She crawled up your body, she kissed and licked her way up your body, she left a trail of dark marks - hickeys and bite marks that would serve as her claim on you. She suckled at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, your lower belly, the undersides of your breasts.

As she marked you, the dark bruises and hickeys seemed to glow with a faint, eerie light. The marks pulsed softly, as if infused with demonic energy. She claimed you as hers, marking you in a way that would be visible to all, a testament to her ownership.

“Mine.”

She slipped off you, her eyes never leaving yours. “I want you ready for me, always,” she said, her voice low and commanding. “When I come around, hungry...I expect you to be prepared. Understand?” She leaned down, her voice a silken growl against your ear.

“What's your name?” you asked, still weak from the pleasure.

“You’ll never know,” she said, her voice dripping with mocking sweetness.

In a blink of an eye she vanished, leaving behind an icy chill and an empty room. One moment she was there, her presence overwhelming, the next—nothing. No trace she'd ever been there, except for the glowing marks of ownership on your body.

You quickly gathered your scattered clothes, dressing hurriedly as you dashed out of the room. The cool air against your skin did little to soothe the heat that still coursed through your veins. You could feel the dampness between your thighs, a constant reminder of what had just transpired.

Kneeling before the ancient book you had used for the ritual, you frantically flipped through the yellowed pages, your hands shaking. You scanned the text, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I have to break the contract…” you muttered, tears forming in your eyes as it darted back and forth, desperately searching for an answer.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you read the words, the implications washing over you.

“The contract can only be severed by a single path, when the summoner grasps the true name of the evil being they've bound, and utters it forthwith.”

“You’ll never know.”

⧗

Author's Note: I hope it makes sense why Natasha's name was not mentioned one bit in this fic...if not, here's an explanation.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff fanfic

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neferaskingdom · 1 month ago

Text

♡ Sign Here… Wait, What?! | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader [Crack Fic]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Summary: Two strangers hit the courthouse for a ticket and a typo fix—next thing you know, they’re accidentally married. Chaos, a clerk who couldn’t care less, and a fiancée on the verge of a meltdown, convinced it’s all some evil plot. Spoiler: it’s not.

"For the last time, Brittany, it wasn’t on purpose!"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A/N: Inspired by my writer's block for my other fic and that one video of Charles just randomly signing anything he's handed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

check out my other works: Masterlist

The courthouse was an absolute disaster. It was understaffed, overcrowded, and seemed to be held together by the fragile thread of everyone’s fraying sanity. You had been stuck there for hours, and all for a minor spelling error in your legal name. At this point, you were half convinced you’d be old and gray before they got to you. The whole place felt like a purgatory of paperwork.

The guy sitting next to you looked equally miserable. He had a baseball cap pulled down low and sunglasses on like he was trying to go incognito in the world’s least glamorous place. You hadn’t exchanged many words, but the mutual annoyance simmering between you two was almost palpable.

“This is hell,” you muttered, crossing your arms tightly. “Who knew fixing one typo would take all day?”

The guy let out a long, weary sigh. “Tell me about it. I’ve been here for hours. And all for a stupid speeding ticket.”

You shot him a sideways glance. “A speeding ticket? In this city? I didn’t think that was even possible.”

He gave a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, I guess I just had to be that guy.”

The shared complaint was enough to crack a small smile out of you. But that was the only bright spot in this nightmare of a day. Every time the overworked and increasingly agitated clerk called someone forward, she did it with the enthusiasm of someone trapped in the seventh circle of customer service hell. Her eyes screamed “don’t even think about making my day worse,” and the way she barked out “Next!” like she was calling people to their doom wasn’t helping anyone’s mood.

Finally, the fateful “Next!” came again, and both you and the guy next to you jumped up at the same time. You both stared at each other, disbelief and irritation flaring up.

“I think it’s my turn,” you said, arms crossed.

He raised his eyebrows under the brim of his cap. “Uh, no, I’ve been waiting way longer.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been waiting forever for a typo correction!”

“And I’ve been here since this morning for a stupid speeding fine!” he shot back, his voice rising in frustration.

You both stormed toward the counter, practically shoving each other out of the way, bickering like children. The clerk didn’t even look up from her screen, clearly sick of everyone and everything. “Names,” she demanded with the enthusiasm of a broken vending machine.

“Charles Leclerc,” the guy said, jumping in before you could even open your mouth.

You blinked at him in surprise. Charles Leclerc? Who just throws out their full name like that? You barely had time to process before the clerk barked out her next order.

“Both of you, step forward.”

“Wait, what? Why me?” you blurted out, confused as hell.

The clerk didn’t respond. She just jabbed her finger at the space in front of her, signaling for you both to step up. You shot Charles a questioning look, but he seemed just as lost as you were, though he didn’t argue. Sighing in defeat, you stepped up beside him.

The clerk slapped two pieces of paper on the counter with the grace of a war general deploying a tactical nuke. “Sign here.”

Charles didn’t even hesitate. He grabbed the pen and signed his paper with an alarming speed, as if this was something he did every day. You stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, still unsure why either of you were signing anything.

“I dunno,” he muttered back, not looking up. “People give me stuff to sign all the time. It’s muscle memory.”

Muscle memory? Who just signs things without reading them?! You were about to protest when the clerk shot you a look so sharp it could have pierced through solid steel.

“Sign,” she repeated, her voice low and dangerously calm.

Your stomach twisted in confusion, but the clerk’s death stare was enough to make you scribble your name down without another word. It didn’t feel right, but you were too exhausted to fight. The ink had barely dried on the paper when the clerk slammed a stamp down and said, with zero enthusiasm, “Congratulations, you’re married.”

A beat of stunned silence.

Then chaos erupted.

“WHAT?!” you and Charles screamed simultaneously, both of you staring at the clerk in absolute horror.

Charles dropped the pen like it had just burned his hand. “Wait—what do you mean married?!”

“I’m here for a speeding ticket!” he continued, his voice cracking in disbelief.

“And I’m just here to fix a typo!” you added, throwing your hands up. “How did we just get married?!”

The clerk just raises one eyebrow and looks at her computer screen “But it says here that a Charles is supposed to get married today”

“Well clearly it’s not me!” he screams.

The clerk, utterly unfazed by the chaos she had just unleashed, didn’t even bother to look up from her computer. “You signed the marriage certificate. You’re married.”

You blinked at her, feeling like the room was spinning. “How—no, there’s got to be some mistake. We can’t be married. Can’t you just, I don’t know, not register the paperwork or something?”

The clerk slowly raised her eyes to look at you, her expression blank and dead inside. “It’s against the rules,” she said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Against the rules?!” you repeated, your voice reaching a higher pitch.

Charles let out a panicked laugh, running a hand through his hair. “This is insane. This can’t be happening. I’m not even supposed to be getting married!”

Suddenly, a man in the back of the room shot to his feet, waving his arms frantically. “WAIT! WAIT, NO! I’M CHARLES ANDERSON! I’M THE ONE WHO’S SUPPOSED TO BE GETTING MARRIED TODAY!”

The whole room turned to look at him as he came barreling toward the counter, his crumpled papers in hand.

“YOU CALLED FOR CHARLES!” he shouted, pointing accusingly at the clerk. “I’M CHARLES ANDERSON! THEY’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE MARRIED! I AM!”

You and Charles Leclerc whipped your heads toward each other, eyes wide in absolute disbelief. “Oh my God,” Charles muttered, shaking his head. “This is an actual nightmare.”

You stared at him, trying to make sense of everything. “I don’t even know you!”

Charles Anderson was now pacing in front of the counter like a madman, his papers flailing in his hand. “My fiancée’s going to kill me! They took our spot!”

You turned to face him, throwing your hands in the air. “We didn’t ask for this, okay?!”

“Can we fix this?” Charles asked the clerk, his voice cracking slightly from panic. “Like, can we just undo it? Cancel the whole thing? Please?”

The clerk let out a slow, dramatic sigh as if they were asking her to climb Mount Everest. She clicked a few buttons on her computer, then looked up at you both with the same bored expression. “Closest annulment appointment is… this Tuesday.”

“TUESDAY?!” you both screamed, causing half the room to turn and stare at you.

Charles Anderson let out a high-pitched shriek. “But my wedding is supposed to be TODAY! WHAT ABOUT MY WEDDING?!”

You whirled on him. “NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR WEDDING, CHARLES ANDERSON!”

Charles Leclerc was pacing now, hands on his head like he was trying to keep himself from exploding. “I can’t believe this is happening. This can’t be happening. I came here to pay a stupid speeding ticket, and now I’m married?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling like you were going to hyperventilate. “I came here for a typo correction. This was supposed to be the easiest thing ever, and now I’m married to someone I don’t even know!”

Charles Anderson, still flapping his marriage certificate, looked like he was going to start sobbing any second. “My fiancée is going to leave me. She’s going to walk out of this courthouse and leave me. We’ve been planning this for months!”

You threw your hands in the air. “This is not about you, Charles Anderson! We just accidentally got married, and you’re worried about yourself?!”

Charles Leclerc spun around to face the clerk, practically begging. “Please, can’t you just… not file the paperwork? We didn’t mean to sign anything!”

She stared at him, eyes glazed over, before sighing deeply. “It’s against the rules.”

“AGAINST THE RULES?!” Charles repeated, his voice reaching a panicked squeak.

The clerk took another slow sip of her coffee. “You can get an annulment. On Tuesday.”

Charles threw his hands in the air, pacing faster. “This is insane. I can’t just—Wait.” He turned to you, blinking rapidly. “Who even are you?”

You blinked back, equally confused. “I don’t know! I mean—I’m me? Who are you?”

“I’m Charles Leclerc,” he said, as if that was supposed to mean something.

You squinted. “…And?”

“And I drive in Formula 1.”

You stared at him blankly. “What’s that? A type of bus?”

Charles Anderson finally chimed in, “Oh my God, you don’t know who Charles Leclerc is?!”

You turned to glare at Anderson. “I don’t care! I just want to undo this whole mess!”

Charles Leclerc let out a frustrated groan. “This is the weirdest day of my life.”

“Oh, you think?” you shot back, throwing your arms up. “This is not how I imagined my day going either!”

Charles Anderson was now pacing in circles, mumbling about his ruined wedding day. The clerk, unbothered by the chaos she had caused, sipped her coffee again, clearly wishing she were anywhere else.

“This is insane! Can’t you just shred the papers or something?” Charles Leclerc was practically pleading now, his hands gesturing wildly like he was on the verge of losing it. “We didn’t mean to get married! Just pretend it never happened!”

The clerk, still sipping her coffee like none of this was her problem, took an agonizingly slow sip and deadpanned, “As I’ve said already, it’s against the rules. The paperwork is in. It’s legal. You’re married.”

“WHAT RULES?!” you cried, throwing your hands in the air. “There’s no way we’re stuck because of a technicality! This isn’t an episode of Law & Order! No one’s going to arrest you for this!”

The clerk blinked at you, her expression as blank as ever. “The rules are the rules,” she said, like she had this line tattooed on her forehead. “Take it up with a judge.”

Just as you were about to lose your mind, there was a loud crash behind you. You turned in time to see a woman in a wedding gown who was most definitely Charles Anderson’s fiancée, kick a chair out of the way, marching up to him like a woman possessed.

“YOU’RE DOING THIS ON PURPOSE AREN’T YOU?” she screeched, pointing an accusing finger at Anderson, who shrank back in terror. “You just didn’t want to marry me, so now you’re pulling this stunt?”

“What?! No!” Anderson yelped, looking around the courthouse like he could find an escape hatch. “It’s not my fault Brittany! They—” he pointed at you and Charles Leclerc, “—they’re the ones who got married!”

Brittany wasn’t having it. “Yeah, right! You’ve been making excuses for months, and now you’re going to try and pin this on them?! What, did you pay them to mess up the paperwork?”

You waved your hands in a panic. “Lady, we don’t even know each other! I’m literally just here to fix a spelling mistake in my name!”

Charles Leclerc jumped in, looking equally panicked. “And I’m just here for a speeding ticket! I don’t even know what’s going on!”

Charles Leclerc looked like he was officially losing his mind. He was pacing in circles, gesturing wildly at the air, as if the universe might suddenly intervene. “I have a race next week! I can’t be married right now! This is insane!”

You stared at him, completely lost. “What are you even talking about? Why does a race have anything to do with this?”

Charles paused mid-panic, looking at you like you’d just said the sky was purple. “For the last time I’m a Formula 1 diver!.”

You blinked and scream out in frustration. “…YOU KEEP SAYING THAT LIKE IT SHOULD MEAN SOMETHING TO ME!?”

Charles looked at you like you’d just spoken in a different tongue. “Formula 1! It’s international. Fast cars, precision driving, circuits all over the world?”

You squinted. “So… like NASCAR?”

Charles’s eye twitched. “NO! It’s not like NASCAR! It’s—" He took a deep breath, clearly trying to calm himself. “Formula 1 is completely different. It’s the pinnacle of motorsport. We race on tracks, not ovals, and the cars are way faster and more advanced.”

“Oh,” you said, not even pretending to be impressed. “So it’s like NASCAR with extra steps.”

Charles groaned, pressing his palms into his eyes. “I can’t do this.”

Before you could respond, Brittany threw her hands up in the air, clearly fed up. “I CAN’T DO THIS EITHER!” She pointed at Charles Anderson, who was now trying to hide behind the counter. “I knew you were stalling this wedding on purpose, Charles! You’ve been dodging this day since we got engaged!”

“Brittany, no! I swear it wasn’t me! It’s just some kind of mix-up!” Anderson tried to reason with her, his voice cracking under the pressure. “It’s a misunderstanding! I didn’t plan this!”

“Oh, so you just accidentally handed over our wedding slot to complete strangers?!” Brittany’s voice was so loud now that other people in the courthouse were starting to stare. “And now we have to wait while you run around trying to fix your mess!”

You slapped your hands over your face, feeling the absolute ridiculousness of the situation weighing on you. “This is the dumbest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Charles Leclerc was now pacing frantically again. “I can’t be married! This is… this is a PR nightmare! my career is ruined! Fred's gonna kill me!”

“Oh my God, no one cares about your stupid racing career!” Brittany screeched, cutting him off. “My wedding’s been hijacked, and you’re worried about PR?!”

Leclerc turned back to the clerk, his voice rising in desperation. “Can’t you just void the paperwork? Pretend this didn’t happen? We didn’t actually want to get married!”

The clerk, completely unaffected by the chaos swirling around her, let out a slow, tired sigh. “It’s against the rules.”

“SCREW THE RULES!” you shouted, slapping your hand on the counter. “No one cares about your rules! Can’t you just— I don’t know— delete the file or something?”

“The government cares about the rules,” the clerk responded flatly, barely looking up from her computer screen.

Charles Leclerc, utterly exasperated, ran a hand through his hair and muttered, “This can’t be happening. This is the worst day of my life.”

“Your life?!” you shot back, eyes wide. “I just came here to fix a typo, and now I’m married to a stranger who yells about race cars!”

Leclerc threw his hands up in frustration. “I’m not yelling about race cars!”

“Yes, you are!”

Brittany stormed back up to the counter, where Charles Anderson was practically cowering. “And you,” she hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You think this is some big joke, don’t you? Delaying the wedding again just because you don’t want to marry me?!”

“I swear, it’s not what it looks like!” Anderson pleaded, trying to grab her hands. “I love you! This is just a mistake!”

“Mistake my ass!” Brittany shrieked. “We’ve been engaged for three years, and now, instead of us getting married, I have to watch these two idiots get hitched by accident!”

You threw your hands up, eyes darting between Brittany and the hysterical Anderson. “We don’t even want to be married! This isn’t some elaborate plan! I’ve literally known this guy for less than five minutes!”

Leclerc, looking like he was about to snap, turned back to the clerk. “There’s nothing you can do? Nothing at all? Can’t we get, like, an emergency annulment or something?”

The clerk glanced up lazily from her coffee. “Like I said next available appointment for an annulment is this Tuesday. Wait no, it’s actually next Tuesday”

“NEXT TUESDAY?!” you and Leclerc both screamed in unison, your voices echoing off the courthouse walls.

“Can’t we just get another slot today please?!” Anderson wails

“Sorry but the fastest I can squeeze in a wedding is on Saturday 25th” the clerk says sipping her coffee nonchalantly.

“The 25th?” Anderson whimpered. “But… my wedding is today! The 25th is like 2 weeks away!”

“Oh, shut up, Charles!” Brittany yelled, practically shoving him. “There is no wedding today! You’ve ruined it! And you know what? Maybe that’s for the best!”

Charles Anderson looked like he might burst into tears at any moment. “But Brittany—”

“Save it!” she snapped, before turning to you and Leclerc. “And you two? Good luck with your stupid accidental marriage. I hope you’re very happy together.”

Leclerc, who had clearly had enough, shot back, “Oh, we’ll have a blast. Trust me. This is exactly what I wanted out of today. To marry a complete stranger in the middle of a bureaucratic nightmare.”

You rubbed your temples, feeling a headache coming on. “This has got to be some kind of cosmic joke.”

From behind, Anderson was still shrieking about his doomed marriage, while Brittany yelled about commitment issues and a wedding that would “never happen at this rate!”

Charles Leclerc leaned over the counter, looking like he was about two seconds away from losing it entirely. “Is there nothing you can do?”

The clerk just looks at him. “Next tuesday.”

He threw his hands up and muttered under his breath, “I should’ve just paid the speeding ticket online.”

The clerk, unfazed by the circus happening in front of her, sipped her coffee and calmly called out, “Next in line, please.”

And that ladies and gentlemen is how you ended up accidentally married to Charles Leclerc in the most ridiculous courthouse mix-up of all time.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

576 notes · View notes

holybibly · 3 months ago

Text

He's just provoking us, isn't he? How can I resist when Seonghwa himself gives me food for unholy thoughts?

So, unholy thoughts of the day: You are an incompetent witch with hidden powerful potential. As your final assignment for the Lesser Demons course at the Magic Academy, you're given the task of summoning a familiar. It's simple—a light spell, a binding magic, an exchange of consent—and there you are, the happy owner of a familiar. But luck seems to have gone against you as you use the wrong ingredient and instead of a lesser demon, you bind yourself to a creature of pure lust and sex, the incubus Seonghwa.

"What do you want from me?" Your voice trembled slightly, either from nerves or the intoxicating feeling of sweet excitement that filled your veins. And that sudden feeling of euphoria that swirled inside you, telling you the answer before he even bothered to answer you.

He tilted his head slightly, as if he amused you, and looked up at you with the most seductive bedroom eyes you'd ever seen. But behind the sensuality, you could see the dark purple haze of something utterly evil gathering in the depths of his pupils. His plump, slutty lips parted as he flicked his long, split tongue across them, and you could see the tips of his sharp fangs glinting in the half-light of the room.

"It's easy, little witch." He purred sultrily, his intense gaze burning through you, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. Your insides twisted, but not in a bad way. "I want you."

His words took your breath away, and your eyes widened as the whole situation came to you.

Suddenly he was so close you could feel the heat of his body. One of his hands reached up to caress your flushed cheek, long, sharp claws scratching the delicate skin, causing tiny drops of blood to appear on the outside. While his other hand ran along the curve of your waist, making you shiver.

"I want everything—your magic, your soul, your body..." Seonghwa dug his fingers into your flesh, pulling you closer until there was nothing between you but breath. His natural, sensual scent seduced you and made your head spin, not helped by the fact that you were completely at his mercy. Heat rushed to your face, and your legs trembled slightly. You could feel the slime starting to collect between your thighs, soaking the lace of your panties. "I want to taste everything. To make you submit to me, to corrupt this pure soul that beckons me to sink my teeth into you. You know incubuses are insatiable creatures, little witch."

His words had a greater effect on your resolve and your mind. His grip on your body tightened, his fingers digging into you with animal cruelty, and a soft, pitiful moan escaped your lips, which he immediately swallowed with his lips, inhaling it greedily, like a drug.

"It can't be..." You couldn't finish your sentence, your voice breaking, too absorbed in the feeling of him being so close, so close, that you could barely formulate a coherent thought.

"Really? Are you going to stop me?" Seonghwa let out a dark chuckle and brushed the hair from your face. His hips and chest touched your body; he was so close. The mischievous gleam in his cat-like dark eyes, shimmering purple like gems set in thick, fluffy eyelashes, told you to stand your ground, but the curve of his unacceptably plump, kissable lips as he smiled destroyed your attempts at resistance and lured you into his arms. "You are so naive, my love. I don't need your permission to take what I want because you're already mine."

You must have lost your head a lot sooner than you thought, because you found yourself nodding in agreement, overcome by the desire for him that had been building up inside you since he had appeared in your living room. "Yours."

The soft whisper of confirmation that escaped from your chest was all he needed to hear as a wide, devilish grin lit up his features before he dove down, his lips capturing yours in an instant, sending a rush of heat and electricity across the surface of your skin. You gasped for breath against his lips, your back arching as the desire in your belly twisted and tantalised, your hands coming up to grasp his shoulders. The way his mouth moved against yours made your head spin, your skin burning under his touch, and your legs tremble slightly. The way your body reacted and responded to him, you had no words to adequately describe. He was a temptation, a black hole of lust, and he had already sunk his claws so deep into you that you didn't stand a chance to save yourself—he was going to consume you completely.

His teeth caught your lower lip between them, and you gasped as he sucked it into his hot, greedy mouth, his fingers curling up and pressing into your flesh so deliciously that you were sure you'd wake up in the morning to find the marks they'd left. Your chest pressed against his, a shiver running down your spine as you felt the silver piercings in his nipples rub against your tits through the thin shirt and bra you wore. He'd done something to you, to your body—you'd never felt so sensitive or so hungry to be touched by someone else.

He made a soft, erotic sound that reminded you of pure porn as your fingers dug into the smooth, golden skin of his shoulders, which shimmered faintly in the darkness as if studded with diamonds. Your other hand was tangled up in his long, silky, black hair. You weren't even aware that you'd moved before the back of your knees were in contact with the edge of the couch, and you were roughly pushed down. The incubus slid easily between your legs, breaking from your lips to kiss your jaw and down the column of your throat as his hips rolled smoothly, grinding his massive cock against your pussy. A soft, breathless moan escaped your lips as pleasure shot up your spine as his cock pressed perfectly against your clit through the thin fabric of your panties.

"There you are, little witch. Moan for me. Moan for me as if you were praying for me, because when I'm finished with you, I'm going to be the only God you're going to know."

#ateez smut #kpop smut #atz smut #ateez hard hours #ateez unholy hours #smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut #ateez x reader

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slu7formen · 7 months ago

Text

luke castellan x fem!reader

You knew that your friend, Luke, was a tease. What you didn’t expect, was that he was going to be a tease to you.

while I finish writing part two of this story (btw, thank u so much for all the love it’s getting) , I drop this one out here for the wait <3

warnings: teasing, praising, drinking, kinda s3xual tension

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

The bonfire crackled merrily, casting flickering shadows on the faces of the demigods huddled around it. The air thrummed with the low beat of stolen music from a borrowed radio, a symphony of laughter and easy conversation punctuated by the clinking of ice inside your plastic cups. Exhaustion from a particularly harrowing week of monster attacks had finally settled in, driving the older campers to this clandestine revelry deep within the safe haven of the camp's woods.

Across from you, Clarisse was emerged in a play-fight with his brothers, not truly a good idea based on the drunken state they were in, but who would tell them otherwise? Travis and Connor were huddled together, their whispers punctuated by bursts of laughter that hinted at some upcoming evil plan or prank. You could practically see the gears turning in their heads. Silena leaned towards Katie’s ear, whispering some secret that boys couldn’t know about, her voice barely a murmur.

And Luke Castellan sat next to you, his presence warm and familiar. His profile bathed in the golden glow. You'd known him for years, a bond forged in shared battles and late-night training sessions. But lately, you'd begun to see him in a different light. The way his muscles tensed beneath his t-shirt as he tossed another log onto the fire, the glint in his dark eyes - it all sent a delicious flutter to your stomach.

Reaching for your empty plastic cup, you realized with a groan that you'd polished off your cranberry juice and vodka concoction. Glancing sideways at Luke, you noticed his cup held a suspicious-looking red liquid that gave off a pungent, almost medicinal smell. "Let me have a sip of yours" you declared, leaning towards him without even questioning.

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. Your cheeks, flushed from the alcohol and the warmth of the fire, were undeniably red. Your lips, slightly puffy and wet, was not something his eyes would miss either. But he'd never admit the effect you had on him, not here, not amongst their friends.

"Not sure that's your thing, doll" he pointed out, looking down at his drink for a second. "You won´t like it"

You knew you were pushing your luck, but the defiance simmering in your blood, thanks to the vodka, wouldn't be ignored. "Come on, Luke" you pout, placing your chin on his shoulder. “If you can drink it, why can´t I?”

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. "I don't think you can handle it" he said with a little smirk on his face, the playful challenge in his eyes impossible to miss. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way he was looking at you, but a spark of competitive spirit ignited within you.

“Oh, yeah?” you challenged. “Just watch me, then” you declared, snatching the cup from his hand before he could protest. You were so sure of yourself. The liquid was a fiery red, the strong scent even more potent up close. You took a tentative sip.

It was horrible.

It was like drinking liquid fire infused with cough syrup. A strangled cough escaped your lips, your eyes watering. Luke chuckled slightly. You sputtered, almost spitting the liquid out in disgust.

Before you could fully react, Luke's hand cupped your chin, surprisingly gentle despite the rough calluses that adorned his palm. His eyes held a mischievous sparkle. "Take it all down now, you told me you could handle it"

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way his words sent a thrill down your spine, but you were determined not to back down, especially not in front of him. Fueled by a mix of pride, the burn of the liquid fire, and a strange flutter in your stomach thanks to Luke's closeness, you took another swig, then another, determined to finish it. You ignored the way your throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper and the fire that seemed to erupt in your gut.

Suddenly, a loud "Chug! Chug! Chug!" broke the silence. Travis and Connor, who had been watching the exchange with amusement, started a rhythmic chant. Silena and Katie soon joined in, their cheers echoing through the clearing. You choked down the rest of the concoction, gasping for air as it burned its fiery path down your throat.

The cheers reached a crescendo as you slumped back, eyes squeezed shut, your head swimming. As the commotion subsided, you dropped the plastic cup with a clatter. You felt dizzy, and your throat felt like someone had lined it with sandpaper, but a sense of accomplishment washed over you. You'd done it.

Suddenly, a gentle touch on your chin startled you. You blinked your eyes open to see Luke leaning in, his gaze holding a playful spark. With his thumb, he brushed away a stray droplet of the red liquid that had escaped your lips during your valiant chugging endeavor.

The simple gesture sent a jolt through you. It was so unexpected that your breath hitched in your throat. Then, in a move that stole the air from your lungs completely, he lifted his thumb to his lips and sucked off the red droplet. Eyes on yours, the whole time.

"Good girl" he murmured.

He turned away then, casually rejoining the conversation with Chris about their upcoming training session. But you couldn't tear your gaze from him. The playful glint in his eyes, the lingering warmth on your chin from his touch – it all played on repeat in your mind.

Gods, you thought, your head swimming from a potent mix of alcohol and newfound desire. You really wanted to be anywhere else right now. Anywhere with him, away from the prying eyes and teasing laughter of your friends. You felt crazy in the matter of just a few seconds. You couldn´t let this slide, you just couldn´t.

You couldn´t deny the wet patch on your panties either.

You stood up, maybe a little too fast for the state you were in, but you managed to look down to Luke, who was already looking into your eyes the moment you stood up.

“I´m going for a walk. Care to join me?”

inspired by this right here, with a little change <3

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan smut #pjo series #pjo #luke castellan x you #luke x reader #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #pjo x reader #pjo x you #pjo smut #luke castellan x female reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan imagines

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justagirlwholikesadam · 11 months ago

Text

Crush

Severus Snape x Fem! Reader

Summary: James Potter has a crush on a Slytherin but not just any Slytherin. James has a crush on Severus' girlfriend.

A/N: I had this idea and I couldn't sleep until I have typed it down. By the way, I haven’t read the books so if something doesn’t make sense just ignore it or stop reading. I'm not bashing on James or any one, so don't come for me. Enjoy! -L

WARNING: NSFW, Severus gets the girl, James has a crush, peeping tom, Severus becomes good, high school crushes, Severus gets his happy ending.

Word Count: 4.1K

═ ≪ ❈ ≫ ═

James thought someone had cast a spell on him because it was the only way that this shit could happen to him. He was crushing hard on the new Slytherin girl who entered in his 5th year. Harmless crush, he will get over it because he had his eyes set on Lily Evans. Sweet and beautiful Lily but in his 6th year, the new girl entered Quidditch and it bothered him when they played against each other. He found out your name when the announcer called it out when you got a winning score.

After every game he had against House Slytherin he would end up in the locker room. Showering with his cock in his hand as he pressed his forehead against the wall. He jerked his cock as he remembered the tight black trouser you had on. The way you pinned your hair back so it wouldn't get in your face while flying. How flushed your face looked after a game, how your lips looked parted as you breathed heavily.

“Fuc-cck.” James moaned loudly as he came on the tile wall of the shower. He felt wrong for liking a Slytherin, he has to hate them. They were evil and they didn't care about anymore but themselves. However his cock had a mind of its own. It wanted you.

He started to think about you more, the moment he woke up. You plagued his dreams and he dreamt being in bed with you, holding you and talking to you. Sirius and Remus started to talk among themselves when Lily passed by them in the Great Hall for breakfast, James usually followed her like a puppy whenever he saw her but recently James was always deep in thought. None of his friends saw how James would look across the tables when bringing his cup of pumpkin juice up to his lips. Remus and Sirius were on him when he started to choke on his pumpkin juice. Sirius was slapping his back while Remus started to grab napkins from the far end of the table to clean James’ mess. The juice had fallen all over the table.

“Mate, are you good?” Sirius asked as James coughed once more. James nodded before looking over at the sight that made choke.

Severus sat next to you and you were talking to him as you passed him a plate of buttered toast. James couldn't help but look away in jealousy when you leaned closer to Severus’ face and whispered something to him. Severus’ cheeks grew pink at your words and James stood up from his seat.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later.” James said and without waiting for his friends’ response. He quickly walked out of the Great Hall passing Lily without a single glance.

“He's alright?” Lily asked as she walked towards Remus and Sirius. They shrugged their shoulders before finishing their meal.

6th year was coming to an end and James still kept quiet about his crush on you. He pretended everything was normal and kept his guard up whenever you passed by. Summer was coming and the students were starting to get rid of their cloaks and sweaters. James thought he was going to faint when he saw you walking into class. The weather was humid and you wore a short sleeve button down shirt, you had ditches the pantyhose and wore black thigh high socks. James swore he had passed away when he saw your bare upper thighs when you sat down.

He kept looking at your thighs and began to wonder if your thighs were soft, he wondered if you were sensitive there. His eyes began to travel over your body, your arms and your shoulders, he lets out a sigh when he saw you pulling a book out of your bag. You looked ahead and made eye contact with him. Giving him a tight lipped smile you turn back around and face towards the blackboard. James looked around and saw you had an empty seat next to you. He was thinking of an idea to come up to tell Peter. He usually sat next to Peter during this class. James was about to stand up to make his move when you looked over your shoulder and let out a smile, too busy looking at you he didn’t even realize the person you were smiling at. James felt someone pass him and saw they had sat down next to you. He slowly sat back down and realized it was Severus. Peter came soon after and sat next to James who kept quiet throughout the entire class. Peter thought James was getting sick when he hadn't made a joke on Severus who was sitting with you a few feet ahead of them. Unknown to Peter, James was staring daggers at Severus when he saw Severus’ hand get closer to your lap under the desk. He was about to pull away when you grabbed a hold of his hand and placed it under your skirt on your right upper thigh. Severus’ shoulders tensed up when you leaned back and spread your legs wider.

Severus’ hand remained on your upper thigh throughout the entire class and James was red in the face. The second that class was dismissed; he was the first to leave, making a scene that Severus and you look over at the entrance with a weird look. Last year of Hogwarts came and the news about Severus and your relationship was the talk of the school. James and Sirius walked together as a group of girls squealed when they saw the couple ahead of them. Severus and you walking side by side down the hallway.

“What a freak show.” Sirius mumbled under his breath.

“They were cuddling on the train ride here.” One of the younger girls said to her friends.

“Lucius said it was about time before he graduated. He’s their number 1 fan, apparently.” The other said, making the rest giggle at the thought of their oldest classmate cheering Severus and you being together.

“You're telling me Snivellus has a girl before us.” Peter commented as he stood by his friends. “Good for him. They look happy.” James, Peter and Sirius looked over their shoulder at Remus who stood behind him.

“What?! I’m just saying.” Remus said as he wrapped his arm over Sirius’ shoulder and looked over at James. “Heard the girls talking about Lily coming up to you soon.” James tears away from you and looks at Remus.

“Really?” James asked. Remus nodded at him with a smile. They all knew how James wanted to go out with Lily. James tried his hardest to get you out of his mind for the last year, he knew it was going to be hard when he found out you were in four of his classes and two of them you were with Severus.

Severus had changed throughout the summer and James believed it was because of you. Severus did not look lanky at all anymore, his hair looked soft and it had grown longer throughout the summer. His clothes looked fitted and had no holes in them. James almost snapped his quill in half in mid writing when he saw Severus moving his hair to the side and saw a hickey on the fair skin of his neck. James was over the moon when he asked Lily out and she finally said yes. He invited her to The Three Broomsticks the coming weekend. He wanted to joy it, he really did but as Lily spoke her appearance changed into you. He drowned himself in Butterbeer as he tried his best to keep up with the conversations. It didn't help when he saw a group of Slytherin walking inside. His eyes widened when he saw Severus and you walking, holding hands as you entered with the group.

Severus was talking with someone when he sat down next to you casually throwing an arm around your shoulders. He did it so nonchalantly that it made James mad. He looked so normal with you and you leaned against him placing a hand on his lap.

“They look good together.” Lily said then looked back at James who frowned.

“What?” He asked Lily, she repeated herself with a smile. “He spoke to me before summer break.” James grew a scowl. “What did he say?” James asked, about to get up but Lily grabbed a hold of his arm pulling him down.

“He didn't do anything. He spoke and he apologized again. I know he meant it this time. He wanted to say sorry and to thank me for being his friend when we were younger. He told me how he met Y/n and how much he loves her.” James felt ill to his stomach as Lily spoke about Severus talking about you.

“They got muggle jobs during summer break and are saving up to go to Paris after graduation.” James frowned looking down at his drink.

“I’m so happy for him and he told me that he's happy for me too. Y/n told me she’ll kick your butt if you do anything bad to me. She’s really nice.” James looks up.

“You met her?! Spoke to her?” James asked and Lily nodded.

“Yeah, we spoke on the train ride on the first day back to Hogwarts. I saw them both in the cart. Severus introduced me to her. She’s really pretty.” Lily said before taking a drink of her Butterbeer. James quickly changed the topic, not wanting to speak more about Severus and you. He had to get you out of his mind, this is madness, he thinks to himself.

James found himself alone in the hallways after his date with Lily. He couldn't sleep and told Remus he was going to walk for a bit. He needed fresh air, with the map in his back pocket and his wand in his hand, lit up. He made sure no professor was roaming around and he took the shortcuts that he saw on the map. He decided he was going to heat some milk up to help him sleep. He kept thinking how the last year of Hogwarts for him was coming to an end and James couldn't be more happier. He was finally going to get rid of you and Severus. He never wanted to see you again. He believes the distance would be good. He wouldn't have to think about you, he wouldn’t have to dream about you. He has Lily now and he couldn't be more merry about it.

About to make it to the kitchen he froze when he heard giggling coming from inside.

“Nox.” James whispered and the light at the end of his wand dimmed down. Quickly grabbing the map from his back pocket he walked to the nearest window of the hall. He used the moonlight to see who was in the kitchen. He almost ripped the map when he saw Severus and your name standing in the middle of the kitchen. Another giggle rang out and he froze when you moaned Severus’ name.

Leave James. Leave. James, fucking leave. He was at war in his mind when he heard a low moan. He shoved the map in his back pocket and wished he had his cloak. He stares down at the knob as he hears Severus moan your name. It made the hairs on the back of James’ neck stand up.

He doesn't know how long he took but he managed to turn the knob and was surprised when there was no charmed lock on the door. He slowly opens it and looks through the crack of the doorway. James hits the frame of his glasses with the door when he leans forward and his breath hitched at the sight of Severus. Severus was sitting down, his head was thrown back, his shirt was unbuttoned and open showing his pale and smooth chest. His collarbone stood out when he leaned back once more with a deep moan. James looked down to see Severus’ hands deep in your hair. You're down on your knees between Severus’ legs. James can hear you moaning as you sucked Severus off. He can hear you gagging and your wet moans.

He watches as Severus pulls you away from his cock, you're huffing and trying to catch your breath as you stare up at Severus. James can't see your face but the way Severus is looking down at you and the trail of saliva on Severus’ long cock. He knows you are loving it, you love being on your knees for him. Severus leans down to kiss you, cupping your face as he deepens the kiss.

“Please.” James hears you beg with a whimper.

“What do you want, love? Tell me.” Severus asked as he began to kiss your cheek down to your neck. His long fingers are quickly unbuttoning your shirt. James watched how Severus kissed you so desperately as he takes you in his arms.

“I want your cock. I need it.” James bites his bottom lip at your words. Severus helps you stand up and pulls you to stand between his legs.

James watched as you kissed him, wrapping your arms around Severus’ neck. Severus' hands wanders behind you and James feels face turn bright red when he saw Severus' hands go under your skirt, pulling your black underwear down to your ankles. Severus unclip the skirt from your hips and let it drop on the kitchen floor. His hands quickly go up to touch your ass, he plays with it and squeezes it as he looks up at you. James hears Severus and you speaking in low whispers. He hears the words I love you and I can't wait.

“As much as I love your nose.” You said but trailed off with a moan when Severus leaned down to kiss your mound. His sticky hands grab a hold of your underwear and toss them aside.

“I need your cock. Please.” You pleaded, making Severus chuckle as he stood up from his seat. Severus turns you around and leans you over the table. “Mulciber is waiting for his sandwich.” Severus mumbles and groans when you look over your shoulder at him as you grind your ass against him.

“He’ll get it soon. He can wait. He's not going to starve to death.” James can’t help but stare at your bra, the lacy bra looked so delicate holding your breasts. Severus cups your breasts from behind, squeezing them over the bra before one of his hands goes between your legs making you whine.

“Shhh, You have to be quiet. Don’t want one of the elves coming here and seeing you dripping wet for my cock.” James saw a bright smile appear on your face as Severus teased you.

“Sev!” You shouted as Severus propped one of your legs up on the table and pushed you down on the table. James can see you tremble and hears you begging Severus to fuck you.

James without a single thought in his head, take the wand from his right hand and begins to unbutton his trousers and unzips it slowly when Severus begins to thrust into you from behind. Your moans and the sound of skin slapping together filled the kitchen. James is jerking himself off harder when Severus pulled your hair, making you lean back taking his thrusts as you cry out. Severus moans as he kisses your neck, one of his hand pulls your bra down and your breasts are bouncing from how rough he’s fucking you.

“Sev!” You cry out when Severus brings his hand from your tit to your neck, holding it.

James is biting the inside of his cheek to not make a noise. He can taste the copper in his mouth when Severus tells you he’s about to cum.

“In me, baby. Fill me up.” Your voice cracks when Severus pulls you against him and groans as he speed up his thrusts.

“Take it. Take it, love. Take everything.” James watched as you drop your mouth open and began to tremble when Severus’ hand drop down between your legs. James wished the table was out of the way so he see your cunt. He hears it though, he can hear how wet it is.

James imagine your wet cunt on Severus’ face. The comment you made earlier was stained on his mind. You loved his nose, that hook nose that everyone made fun of it is now getting drenched by your juices.

James watched as you came undone as you leaned back at Severus, your leg had dropped down and you’re in Severus’ control. He wrapped his arms around you as he rammed himself inside, his face hidden between your neck and shoulder.

“Fuck-k Y/n!” Severus cried out as he held you tight as he came inside of you. James let out a whine when he felt his balls tighten at the sight of you. Your head is leaning back against Severus’ chest, your tits are bare, your hair tousled and the smell of sex filled James up. He cums in his hand and makes a loud noise.

“Who’s there?!” James jumps at Severus’ voice and quickly runs down the halls with his softened cock in the open and his right hand covered in cum.

Severus slams the door shut and walks back to you as he zips himself up. He hums at the sight of you and grabs the forgotten underwear on the floor. Tucking it in his back pocket, he watches as you lean against the table trying to catch your breath.

“Who was it?” Severus shook his head as he grabbed your skirt, wiping his hand over it making sure it was clean for you.

“No one was there.” He tells you as he wraps the skirt around your hips and clips it together. Severus watches as you begin to button your shirt back up. “I love you.” Severus spoke softly as he finished the last button of your shirt and fixed the collar of your shirt. Severus thinks he will never get tired of your smile. You smile bright at him before leaning forward to kiss his bare chest.

“I love you.” You said wrapping your arms around him. You pressed your face against his chest, enjoying his scent and his warmth. Severus kissed your forehead and hugged you back.

“Five more months.” You mumble against his skin and Severus smiles at your reminder. “Fuck, what kind of sandwich did Mulciber wanted?” You hear Severus ask from above.

“I have no idea.” You say pushing away from your boyfriend and helping him button his shirt as Severus began to accio the ingredients he needed to make a sandwich.

Mulciber was in bed reading the newspaper when Severus came walking in. Mulciber raised a brow at Severus who dropped a bag on his lap and walked over to his bed. Laying down with a sigh, he put his arms under his head.

“Did you ransack the kitchen?” Mulciber said with a chuckle as he took out three different types of sandwiches. Severus looks over at his friend who had a sly grin. Mulciber took note of Severus’ face, his lips were pink and looked puffy like he just finished setting the world record for the longest kiss. Mulciber can see a hickey peeking under Severus’ dark locks. The first two buttons of his shirt were undone and his hair was a mess and Severus looked completely relaxed.

Severus was sitting next to you in the Great Hall for breakfast the next day. He listened as you spoke with your friends about an essay due for class as he filled his plate up with waffles and sausages. He was about to ask you to pass him the maple syrup when he looked ahead and his eyes met with no other then James Potter. Severus frowned and looked away but then looks back again at James and noticed his eyes were on you now. You didn't pay attention, to focus on the meal in front of you and talking with your friends. Severus leans towards you.

"I think I found out who was peeping at us." Severus whispered making you freeze in mid bite and look over at him.

"Who?" You whispered. Severus points ahead with his chin and starts to cut his waffles. You look ahead slowly and looked at James who was talking with another boy, you didn't believed it until James looked back at you and his cheeks grew pink, he quickly avert his eyes from you.

"No fucking way. Why him? Doesn't he hate your guts?" Severus nods at you before looking back at you.

"There's only one way to find out." Severus said before biting into his waffles. "You mean Legilimens." Severus nodded at you.

James knew he shouldn't have looked ahead again. He felt embarrassed after last night, cumming at the sight of Severus fucking his girlfriend. James was about to leave when there was cheering and whistling ahead of them. His friends looked over their shoulders and James looked to see what the people were cheering. The entire Slytherin table were up on a roar as they saw you kissing Severus bright and early in the morning. Severus felt you place a hand on his chest and he almost forgot why you were doing it. He looked ahead to see your plan had worked, you had caught the attention of James Potter. The Gryffindor boy was staring right at Severus.

Severus took a deep breathe and enter into James' mind. Sirius placed a hand on James' shoulder when James winced, saying he just got a headache out of no where. Severus didn't need much time, he ran thorough James' mind with ease and when he found out what he was looking for he got out of his mind. You look over to see Severus' with a small frown as he stared down at his plate.

"I should kill him." Severus mumbled to you and you placed a hand on his leg under the table. "He thinks about you. He has cum at the thought of you. He saw us last night, Y/n."

"No more pranking, remember." You told him, grabbing a hold of his hand under the table. "Do not fret over him. He's just jealous that he can't have what he wants. Let him be. The school year is almost over and we will be out of here."

Severus lets out a sigh but nods at you. He continues on with his breakfast trying to ignore how James craved for you. The end of the school year came and every thought of James vanished away. Severus and you had bigger things to think about and plan. Your friends hugged you and begged you to write to them as soon you and Severus' landed in Paris. Severus' group of friends bid him goodbye and in hushed whispered let him know that he who should not be named was waiting for him when he returned.

In the train to the airport, you looked down at your tickets. Severus had come back to his seat and looks over at you. He holds a vial towards you and you grab it before feeling him kiss your forehead. You open it and you can smell the Polyjuice Potion.

"Sandra Johnson." Severus said as he takes an ID from the pocket of his cloak. Shutting the vial close and tucking it in your pocket, you grabbed the ID, you saw a picture of a older white woman with different color hair from yours. Severus shows you his, a picture of a older man who's blading and weighs more than he should.

"Clyde Johnson." You read the fake ID to Severus. "You have thought of everything." You added as you tucked the fake ID with your plane tickets to the States.

You lean against Severus who welcomed you into his arms. This was the plan, a plan to run away and never look back. Severus knew the Death Eaters wanted him to join, he was foolishly enough to listen to them and visited one of their meeting but at the end he couldn't go through with it not when he met you. You had changed him, he found himself wanting a future with you, away from everyone, away from the war. All of his life he had to deal with pain and suffering from the hand of his abusive father and from his bullies. Severus and you decided the night both of you confessed your love to one another that both of you were going to run away together and start somewhere new, somewhere where no one knows who Severus and Y/n are.

#harry potter fandom #severus x reader #young severus snape fanfic #young severus snape x reader #severus snape x reader angst #smut #sfw #james potter #minor remus lupin #james potter has crush #severus snape gets a happy ending #severus snape smut #cute #happy ending

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anantaru · 2 years ago

Text

— rejecting his cuddles

including dan heng, jing yuan, gepard, blade x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, crack, we‘re evil

— dan heng

"nope!"

you quickly place your hands on top of dan heng‘s chest to swiftly push him away— although tied with an eased and playful shove, your boyfriend was still left baffled and most of all, supremely confused out of his damned mind.

primarily— since when did you ever reject a comforting, cozy cuddle from your pretty man the moment he rushes straight home to come and see you, principally spoil you with all the bundled up physical affection he could possibly channel and provide?

one hundred percent, never. in point of fact was it you instead who would hug him first afresh.

"oh— i‘m sorry." dan heng backs away, as to not cross any boundaries with you. his voice shakes and creaks in the back of his toughened throat. it doesn't take a genius to figure out that he in fact, did not expect to have such a hard time being rejected by you.

"s-so.. uh, yeah."

dan heng corrects himself— or lets work something out to express it differently, at least tries to spell out a follow up sentence because you actually managed to make him speechless, at loss of words with nothing more than arbitrarily prattles bubbling past the tip of his tongue and leaving his lips.

there‘s a punch of cold silence, stolen by a deep sigh from your irritated lover— one might think that dan heng strongly thought about what he had done wrong or if he messed up in some way. yes, the possibility on you playing tricks on him was always there but this time you really put in all your acting skills into this one moment, carving it to almost perfection.

"can— can i ask why?" he nervously whispers, deciding that there, nothing was as gruelling as not receiving a hug from his significant other, "i don't know, can you?" which unbeknownst to him, was playing a devilish play with all expenses falling flat on top of his shoulders.

you smirk, your body moving on its own as you suddenly shelter his body into your frame, "surprise! it's a prank!" and nuzzle yourself into his chest, cheeks flushed on top.

granted, his facial expression was hilarious, but you could only go that far before the man would suffer from a heart attack.

"you're unbelievable." dan heng rolls his eyes while leaning his head into your neck, his nostrils slightly flaring at the pocketed entry of your signature scent welcoming him at last.

"you still love me though."

— jing yuan

to wholly fool someone, precisely form their running thoughts anew, was it wishful thinking or actually possible? what an absorbing charge to partake in, you figured.

but despite that, you were awfully aware that someone as hellishly meticulous and careful to their surroundings such as jing yuan was without question to be an utmost arduous task to accept— yet, who were you to give up so easily?

your heart had been softly pounding with a minuscule increased pace signalizing your nervousness the minute your boyfriend unlocked the door to your shared home. if you had been honest to yourself, the following sequences that would normally happen work as followed— if you didn't decide to be a little evil today, they never change, you greet the man in addition to embracing him in a warm hug, point blank, and jing yuan unreservedly savored such implementing like no other.

the man sought after a soothing embracement all day long, he thinks about it, and when closes his eyes he imagines it too. it's a crucial source of serotonin to him and he requires it each night before passing out into a deep slumber with you by his side.

"i'm home, my love."

your ears point at the all too recognizable voice dotting a comforting timbre into the living room as you silently moved up from your seat to walk towards jing yuan who had made it his own personal duty to part his arms the second he sees you saunter towards him.

"hello, love." you greet him with a smile, your voice had been soft and actually managed to fool him for the short duration of your prank.

but then, "oh, no thank you!" you skillfully dodge his attempt to wrap his arms around you, waving your hand in between the awkward space of your bodies, shaking your head.

"excuse.. excuse me?" that's a little less confident than how jing yuan would for the most part articulate himself— to underscore his brilliant irritation, he cocks up a brow in disbelief.

but he's cautious, your darling— so don't be fooled, the man had a sharp and blazing eye on remote sections that might go unnoticed to other people, to the innocent faces and crowds, it was jing yuan who was keeping the control interlaced in the palm of his hand.

"hmm?"

you play the guiltless, in the clear significant other a little too well and you applaud yourself for your very own performance— at this rate it makes you wonder if you should have actually pursued a career in acting after all.

while your boyfriend was now feeling a sense of dread in his joints and limbs, the color of his eyes had gotten hidden by a dusty darkness.

"ah, i understand." he smiles, but the way he approaches you was almost tactical, and that grin on his face— on the outside, modest and upright while on the inside, it concealed a bristling confidence that yes, figuring you out was easier than he thought.

"that's okay." jing yuan walks past you, slow, each step echoing and slipping past your ears, his hand too, was listlessly tapping your shoulder once twice, as he made you turn around to face him again.

"i do not need it anymore." huh, for him to not even utter a single complaint, something, anything would do, really.

your lips pucker into a pout when you realized it‘s over, when you noticed that your boyfriend was getting way better at this, as if he had you wholly figured out from the very start— did you never stand a chance to fool him to begin with?

"ugh." you cross your arms around your body, "you knew from the start, didn‘t you?"

"of course i did, love." he breathes his words featherlight, but his smile stays strong regardless.

"i always do."

— gepard

in the beginning of your comical scheme, gepard was convinced you didn‘t want to hug him because he had just returned from training the new recruits of the silvermane guards and fair enough— he didn‘t have the chance to take a shower prior to returning to you.

yet, keep in mind, in any other instances you did not care about said fact, more so was it you who‘d practically hug him for hours on end and pepper him with kisses all over. being the mighty captain of the silvermane guards of beleborg not unexpectedly came with a tightly shut package of both it‘s very own positives and jarring negatives.

while the positives would greatly outweigh the stormy negatives by a tenfold, having limited free time to spend on each other would sometimes be a strenuous obstacle you can only manage together, as a team.

"i can shower right away." gepard panics, he didn't think it was possible for his body to sweat even more than earlier when he fought against the new recruits and your poor boyfriend curses himself underneath the warm racks of his fastened breathing on why he didn't manage to be in the bestest shape for you tonight.

he adds on, "don‘t move, i‘ll be right back!"

the sides of your mouth twitch in an amusing snort and you carry on to gnaw down on your bottom lip to suppress yet another wave of laughter, "oh, i think you‘re misunderstanding me." and step back just a little bit more to accentuate your evil plan and push your boyfriend over the edge for good.

"i don‘t want to hug you tonight." you raise your brows while scratching the back of your neck.

this sentence alone was like a sharp stab into the blonde's heart as he sets his eyes to meet your own.

"like at all." and you finish him off with an indirect blow right against his handsome features, "at— at all?"

if you were aware of one thing, it was that gepard never wasted any time to talk things out with you— basically being transparent and working together, "okay, baby'" he pauses, "listen to me." and almost squeals in sadness, placing both hands on top of your shoulders.

"if you're still sad i had to cancel our dinner the other time, i can try to figure something out—"

how adorable, you realise.

pinching his cheeks with your fingers, you smile, a shadow of intense guilt poking on your heart, "i’m sorry!" you yell, "everything is fine, i‘m sorry." and abruptly lean into his warm body, arms crossed around his chest as you sensed the upping beat of his heart underneath his ribcage.

gepard couldn’t believe you this time, truly, and lets his eyes fall close before sighing out— in relief but also a slight bit of annoyance written across the rest of his heavenly features.

"i‘ll get back at you for this."

— blade

"hmm, you sure darling?" he acts innocent that's for certain but blade’s next look on you, fuck, if you didn‘t know any better you would've sternly stated that it entirely formed into a menacing demeanor— stone cold and fierce as you felt it wash over your trembling skin.

a followed sharp click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth is all it took for you to whole-heartedly regret and loathe even considering to work out a prank against your boyfriend, at all.

"yes, i pass."

notwithstanding, you couldn‘t back away now, quite obviously would it blow up in your face with you becoming the pranked one instead. at this graven point the entire situation had already been in great favor of blade instead of you— the most plausible solution would be to somehow make it out as a winner regardless while your lover thoroughly found delight in engaging in those games with you.

"what a shame." he sighs and tilts his head to the right— pending his eyes from your lips to your legs and up, then approaching you a step closer so your cheeks could immediately sense his warm breathing.

"and here i thought my significant other actually liked me." and slowly whispers his finishing line against the shell of your ear while idly leaving it to his gravelly voice to place a shivering thunder-like sensation on your skin, in this cold your body welcomed the flames of your flustering frame, the furnacing warmth and the fuel this man was capable to inflict on you was ridiculous, but so did you work wonders on his psyche.

you knew your boyfriend, entirely— his sweet perceptions, his personal views and his virtually scary attention to detail for bodily responses of his usual targets.

"ugh, cut the crap blade." you roll your eyes at him playfully, laughing out a frustrated heave with a deep scowl on your lips.

"me?" blade dramatically places his hand on top of his chest, his mesmerizing eyes growing at the size of saucers, what a pain in the neck, literally.

"yes you."

despite everything, you, with the kindness of your heart, attempted to silently move forward to cuddle him, practically leaving your failed prank in the past while blade, in his radiating confidence, was swift to dodge you.

"no thanks." blade says sternly, "i‘m rejecting this hug."

how unwelcomely, indecently, annoyingly typical for your boyfriend to turn this entire malfunctioning situation upside down and play it into his very own favor.

if only he wasn‘t so breathtakingly handsome when he greeted you and presented his confidence so tastefully, smiled so prettily at you too, his shining whites and canines poking from under his lips and greatly accentuating the rest of his bewitching features while his large hands slowly ran up and down your shaking arms.

"tsk." you avert your gaze, not being certain if you're more embarrassed that you lost or that he beat you so effortlessly too, "you‘re unbelievable blade."

okay, hold on— even though you started this game, now witnessing it in a different perspective on how it would‘ve played out the other way around was a little frustrating, to say the least— while you also made sure that you‘re calling yourself out for that sprinkle bit of hypocrisy climbing up on you.

"i‘m unbelievably funny." he drawls back at you with a wink and kisses your forehead playfully— then your nose, which he found adorable and lastly your cheeks before gently trapping your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger to make you look at him, "and i have to put you in your place sometimes, you know?"

as he at last, conveniently pulls you into a warm hug, both smiling and laughing into the comfort of the situation.

2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

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