#wick smut

[theetherealbloom]

The Things I Would Do, Just To Be Here With You

Summary: Amidst the whirlwind of movie premieres and busy schedules, you and Pedro Pascal, both thriving in your respective careers, find ways to celebrate each other despite the distance. While Pedro promotes Gladiator 2 in London, he longs for your presence at the after-party.

Or, you two would scream at the stars for keeping you apart... and the government too.

“Pedro Pascal x f!reader, Pedro is promoting Gladiator 2, and reader is in Wicked (Elphaba or Galinda of course!) for the screenplay of Wicked, and they are just really supportive of each other but also joke about their own movie being the best. Finding time to come to each other’s premiers. Posting behind the scenes or visiting each other.” — From @imaginemixedfandom

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Surrounded by A-Listers, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Red Carpet, Cameras, Paparazzi, Long Distance, Timezone Difference, Social Media, Interviews, I’m not a Spanish speaker, I might be wrong with the terms, please don’t come after me T^T,

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Ty @imaginemixedfandom for giving the idea! I didn’t really want to replace the reader with the cast of Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo. Those two are just too iconic. So instead I will make the reader a writer for the screenplay adaptation of Wicked tehe. You all should listen to brent iii by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler, it’s absolutely one of my favorite albums of this year. Lastly, remember this is all fictional and for fun! Enjoyyyy my loves!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: and the government too! By Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

gif by @andrew-garfielld

| Main Masterlist |

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — EVENING

“Hi.” Your voice was soft as you nestled deeper into the duvet, your body cocooned in its comforting folds.

“Hola, mi amor.” Pedro’s face lit up on your phone screen, the warm timbre of his voice washing over you like a balm. “I miss you.” “I miss you too… so much,” you replied with a little pout. The time difference between London and New York was merciless. Between his packed schedule promoting Gladiator 2 and prepping for Fantastic Four, and your whirlwind of work with the Wicked movie premiere, your conversations had been reduced to stolen moments like this. Still, even through a screen, Pedro had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the world. “You look cozy,” he said with a lopsided grin, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Meanwhile, I’m freezing my ass off here on set. I think my nose might fall off.” You laughed softly, the sound tinged with longing. “I’d trade you, you know. I’ll take the cold if it means I get to see you.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He leaned closer to the camera, his face filling your screen. “If I weren’t contractually obligated to be here, I’d hop on the next flight and show up at your premiere tomorrow. Red carpet and all.” You smiled wistfully, your fingers brushing against the edge of your phone as if you could reach through it to touch him. “You’d outshine me. Imagine the headlines: ‘Pedro Pascal steals the show at Wicked premiere.’” “Please. Everyone’s going to be talking about you. ‘Brilliant screenwriter dazzles Hollywood!’” He paused, his tone softening. “You’re incredible, you know that?” Your throat tightened at his words, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Stop, or I’ll actually cry, and my face will be all puffy for tomorrow.” He chuckled. “Okay, okay. But seriously, mi amor, I’m so proud of you. You’ve worked so hard for this.” “And so have you,” you countered. “The Gladiator 2 trailer broke the internet, and you still found time to send me flowers last week. You’re amazing, Pedro.” “Yeah, but flowers aren’t the same as being there with you.” His voice dipped, a hint of regret slipping through. “I hate being this far away.” You sighed, your heart aching in tandem with his. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with the unspoken tension of your shared longing. Then, Pedro’s grin returned, bright and mischievous. “So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “who do you think has the better movie? Be honest.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Are you seriously asking me to compare Wicked to Gladiator 2? One’s a heartfelt, magical adaptation, and the other is a testosterone-filled epic. They’re different.”

“Uh-huh,” he teased, crossing his arms. “Sounds like you’re dodging the question. I knew you were scared to admit Gladiator 2 is better.”

You scoffed, sitting up straighter in bed. “Scared? Please. I just don’t want to hurt your feelings when Wicked inevitably becomes a global phenomenon.”

Pedro laughed, the sound rich and contagious. “You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, this would be grounds for war.”

“Lucky? You’re the lucky one,” you shot back, smirking. “I’ll prove it when I finally see you in person again. But until then…”

You brought the phone closer, pressing a soft kiss to the screen. Pedro mimicked your gesture, his lips brushing his camera lens.

“Goodnight, mi vida,” he murmured.

“Goodnight, Pedro.” Your voice was tender, laced with all the love you couldn’t put into words.

As the call ended, you clutched the phone to your chest, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. Despite the distance, despite the chaos of your lives, you knew one thing for certain: Pedro Pascal would always be worth the wait.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — MORNING

Today was the day. You were walking the red carpet for the Wicked movie premiere. A sea of celebrities, producers, fellow writers, and editors would surround you. The sheer magnitude of it all left you feeling both giddy and utterly petrified.  

You smoothed your hands over the silk robe you wore, your palms damp with nerves. While you loved the craft of storytelling, the spotlight had always felt daunting. You preferred to let your work speak for itself—a tendency that paired surprisingly well with dating Pedro Pascal, the literal human embodiment of charisma and charm.  

“There, all done,” Laura, your makeup artist, said with a satisfied grin.  

You blinked at your reflection in the mirror. Your skin glowed, your eyes were accentuated just enough to look striking without overwhelming, and your lips were painted a perfect shade of confidence.  

“You’ve outdone yourself,” you said, giving her a warm smile.  

“Of course I did,” Laura replied with a wink. “Big night for my favorite screenwriter.”  

Mia, your stylist, emerged from behind a rack of gowns, holding up the dress. “Speaking of big nights... Ready to put this beauty on?”  

You nodded, though your smile wavered. “I just wish Pedro were here,” you admitted, your voice quieter now.  

Laura and Mia exchanged sympathetic glances before Laura gently squeezed your shoulder. “You’re going to look incredible, and he’d lose his mind if he saw you. How about we take some pictures to send him? A little preview for the man himself.”  

You hesitated, glancing at your phone on the vanity. “I don’t want to distract him. He’s busy with interviews and set work. London and New York aren’t exactly next door…”  

“All is fair in love and war,” Laura teased, her giggle breaking the tension. “Come on, babe! If anything, it’ll be motivation for him to hop on the next flight.”  

Mia chimed in, smirking. “Or just to remind him what he’s missing. Trust me, teasing Pedro is a public service.”  

You laughed despite yourself, feeling the nerves lift slightly. “Fine, fine. But if he complains, I’m blaming you two.”  

They ushered you into the dress—a masterpiece of emerald silk and intricate detailing that clung perfectly in all the right places. As Mia zipped you up, Laura stepped back, her hands pressed dramatically over her heart.  

“Pedro’s going to lose his shit.”  

“You look like a literal goddess,” Mia added, spinning you toward the mirror.  

For a moment, you hardly recognized yourself. The reflection staring back radiated elegance and confidence, even if you didn’t entirely feel it yet.  

“Okay, okay. Take the pictures,” you relented, biting your lip as you tried to contain your grin.  

Laura grabbed your phone and started snapping. You struck a few playful poses, twirling and laughing as Mia adjusted the hem of your dress. It felt silly, but imagining Pedro’s reaction warmed your chest.  

Once the photos were taken, you grabbed your phone and hovered over the message screen. You debated for a moment, then attached the best photo and typed a quick message.  

You: Wish you were here. But since you’re not... Enjoy this. Don’t let it distract you too much, cariño.  

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, the familiar swoosh of the message sending making your heart race.  

The reply came faster than you expected.  

Pedro: Distract me? How am I supposed to do anything now? You look like an angel. No, better than an angel. Drop-dead stunning. 

You couldn’t stop the grin from taking over your face.  

Pedro: Red carpet better be ready. They’ve got no idea who they’re dealing with tonight.  

The butterflies in your stomach multiplied tenfold. Before you could reply, another message appeared.  

Pedro: I’m so proud of you. Go knock ’em dead, mi amor. I love you.  

Your throat tightened, and you had to blink back the sudden tears threatening to ruin Laura’s hard work. You tapped out a quick reply.  

You: I love you too. Now go back to being the coolest man alive.  

“You okay over there?” Mia asked, watching you with a knowing smile.  

“More than okay,” you said softly, tucking your phone away.  

As you prepared to step into the whirlwind of the premiere, Pedro’s words echoed in your mind. Even from thousands of miles away, he made you feel invincible.  

Tonight wasn’t just about the red carpet or the glitz and glamour. It was about celebrating what you loved—and knowing Pedro would always be your biggest cheerleader, no matter where in the world he was.  

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON — AFTERNOON  

Pedro sighed deeply, his head resting against the back of his chair. The steady hum of activity on set felt like background noise, the voices and clatter muffled by the ache in his chest. His fingers drummed lightly against his thigh, the motion absent-minded, a physical echo of the restlessness he felt inside.  

He missed you.  

It wasn’t the casual longing of someone who hadn’t seen their partner in a while—it was the kind of yearning that settled into his bones, heavy and persistent. A few hundred miles of ocean separated you, but it may as well have been an entire galaxy.  

He opened his phone and scrolled back to the picture you’d sent him that morning. The emerald dress, the way it hugged your form, the way your eyes sparkled even in a still image—it took his breath away. You looked like a dream. His dream.  

“If I were there right now…” he murmured under his breath, running his thumb over the screen as if he could touch you.  

If it were as simple as hopping on a flight, he’d already be on his way. He imagined the way you’d light up when you saw him, how you’d rush into his arms. He’d bury his face in your hair, inhale your scent, and hold you so tightly that he’d forget about the world outside.  

But it wasn’t that simple. The timing was off, as it so often was with both your careers in full swing. He was tied to the production schedule of Fantastic Four, and you were in the spotlight for Wicked. The universe seemed determined to keep you apart, and for the first time in years, Pedro felt the cracks in his patience.  

He closed his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. “Damn stars. Damn schedules. Damn… government,” he muttered bitterly. The laugh that followed was humorless, the frustration thick in his voice.  

If he could, he’d scream at the stars for conspiring against you both. Curse the invisible forces that made life so complicated. He’d barter with time itself, twist it and stretch it, just to have you here with him for a few stolen moments.  

He wondered what you were doing right now. Were you nervous about the red carpet? Did you feel as hollow without him as he felt without you? Pedro clenched his jaw, guilt gnawing at him. You deserved to have him there, to walk that carpet with you, to hold your hand and beam with pride as you took in the applause for your work.  

“Pedro, they’re ready for you!”  

The call from a production assistant jolted him from his thoughts. He blinked, the weight of reality crashing back down as he stood and stretched.  

“Be right there,” he called back, tucking his phone into his pocket.  

As he made his way back to the soundstage, he couldn’t shake the thought of tomorrow. The Gladiator 2 premiere loomed ahead, another milestone he should be celebrating with you by his side. Instead, you’d be halfway across the world.  

But one day, he promised himself, one day, nothing will keep us apart.  

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — EVENING 

The flashing lights were relentless, casting an almost blinding glow over the red carpet. The screams of fans and the constant click of cameras created a symphony of chaos, one you weren’t entirely comfortable navigating. You’d always preferred the quiet—curled up with a book, tucked away from the world’s prying eyes.  

But tonight, you smiled and posed alongside your cast and the production crew. You owed it to them, to yourself, and to the story you’d helped bring to life.  

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Winnie Holzman, the original writer of Wicked, leaned in with a smile, her eyes sparkling as she looked at the crowd.  

You nodded, though your voice was tinged with nervousness. “It’s incredible. Overwhelming, but in the best way.”  

“You’ve done amazing work,” Dana Fox chimed in, her excitement infectious. “We wouldn’t be standing here without your screenplay tying it all together.”  

Jon M. Chu, ever the cheerleader, clapped you lightly on the back. “Tonight’s your night too. Own it.”  

You laughed softly, feeling a little more at ease with their encouragement. Together, the four of you posed for the cameras, sharing a few candid laughs before heading closer to the press area.  

As you stepped into the spotlight for interviews, the questions started flying.  

“How does it feel to see Wicked finally come to life on the big screen?”  

“It feels surreal,” you answered, your smile genuine. “Everyone on this project has poured so much heart into it. To see it come together like this is... overwhelming in the best way.”  

“You’re known for being quite private. How are you handling all the attention tonight?”  

“It’s definitely out of my comfort zone,” you admitted with a small laugh. “But I’m surrounded by such a talented and supportive team, which makes it easier.”  

Then, inevitably, came the question you’d been bracing for. “We couldn’t help but notice that Pedro Pascal isn’t here tonight. Do you miss him?”  

The question tugged at something deep inside you. “I miss him so much,” you said softly, your expression softening. “He’s busy promoting Gladiator 2 and filming in London. I know he wishes he could be here, just like I wish I could be there for him. We’re both incredibly proud of each other, though.” You grinned, a playful sparkle in your eyes. “But, of course, Wicked is better. Don’t tell him I said that.”  

The interviewer laughed, and you followed with a wink before stepping away.  

AFTER THE PREMIERE  

As the credits rolled and the crowd applauded, you walked alongside Jon, Winnie, and Dana toward the exit. The night air was cool and refreshing after the heat of the theater.  

“You were glowing on that carpet,” Winnie teased, nudging you gently.  

Jon smirked. “Bet it’s because of a certain someone who couldn’t make it.”  

You flushed immediately, your cheeks warming. “Stop,” you mumbled, though your smile betrayed your embarrassment.  

“Oh, come on,” Dana added with a laugh. “You were gushing about him earlier. Just admit it—you’re head over heels.”  

You sighed dramatically, though your heart raced just thinking about Pedro. “Okay, fine. I miss him like crazy. I just—” You paused, glancing up at the stars. “I wish I could be there for him, you know? For his premiere. He’s always so supportive of me. It feels wrong not to do the same.”  

Jon stopped walking, turning to face you with a thoughtful look. “So go.”  

“What?”  

“Go to him,” he said with a shrug. “Take the jet. I’ll make the call.”  

You blinked at him, stunned. “You—you’d let me do that?”  

“Of course,” Jon said, waving off your concern. “You’re part of the heart of this project. If being with him makes you happy, it’s worth it.”  

“But I don’t have a ticket, and I need to pack, and—”  

Dana held up a hand, already pulling out her phone. “Relax. I’ll call a car, and we’ll pack together. You just focus on getting there.”  

Before you could protest further, Jon had already stepped aside, dialing someone on his phone. Dana grabbed your arm and started steering you toward the waiting car.  

“You’re really doing this,” she said, grinning.  

“I—I guess I am.” Your voice trembled with excitement and nerves. “What if I don’t make it in time? What if—”  

Dana cut you off with a gentle squeeze on your shoulder. “You’ll make it. And even if you don’t, just being there will mean everything to him.”  

AT THE AIRPORT  

The private jet was waiting for you, its sleek frame illuminated by the glow of the runway lights. You quickly texted Pedro’s manager and assistant, letting them know you were on your way.  

You: I’m coming to London. Please don’t tell him. I want it to be a surprise.  

The response was almost immediate:  

Franklin Latt: Got it. He’s going to lose his mind—in the best way.  

As you settled into your seat and the jet began to taxi, your heart raced. Seven hours separated you from Pedro, but for the first time in days, the distance didn’t feel insurmountable.  

You leaned your head back against the seat, clutching your phone tightly as you closed your eyes. You could already picture the look on his face when he saw you.  

Just hold on, Pedro. I’m on my way.  

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON, ODEON LUXE LEICESTER SQUARE — EVENING

The energy in Leicester Square was electric. Fans filled the barricades, the roar of excitement nearly drowning out the camera flashes as Pedro made his way down the red carpet. Dressed in a sharp black shirt, the top unbuttoned, slacks, his signature charm, and a warm smile lit up every interaction as he stopped to greet fans and pose for photos.

The press area was bustling, and soon Pedro found himself standing in front of a journalist holding a microphone.

“Pedro, congratulations on Gladiator 2! How does it feel to be here tonight celebrating this film?”

Pedro grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It feels incredible. This is one of those projects you dream about as an actor, and to see it all come together, to see everyone’s hard work pay off, it’s… it’s a real honor.”

The interviewer nodded. “You’ve had an amazing year, between this and your other projects. But we couldn’t help but notice that someone special in your life had a big night recently—the Wicked premiere in New York. Did you get a chance to see any photos?”

Pedro’s face lit up instantly, a laugh bubbling out of him. “Oh, I did. Believe me, I did. She sent me some pictures, and I’ve seen the ones floating around online too. I mean… she looked absolutely stunning. Like, knock-you-out, breathtakingly gorgeous. I might be a little biased, but still.”

The crowd nearby caught wind of his gushing, and a few cheers erupted. Pedro laughed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Honestly, I’m so proud of her,” he continued, his voice softening. “She poured so much of herself into that screenplay, and to see her get the recognition she deserves? It’s the best feeling in the world.”

The interviewer smiled. “There’s definitely a lot of love and mutual admiration between you two. Word on the street is you’ve got a bit of a friendly competition going on—Gladiator 2 versus Wicked. Any truth to that?”

Pedro chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, it’s absolutely true. We’ve got a bet going. She’s convinced Wicked is going to sweep the box office, and I, of course, have complete faith in Gladiator 2. Let’s just say the stakes are high—winner gets breakfast in bed for a week.”

The interviewer laughed along with him. “That’s adorable. Who’s winning so far?”

Pedro smirked. “Let’s just say she’s got me a little worried. But I’ll never admit that to her.”

LATER, BACKSTAGE

Pedro leaned against the wall, sipping from a glass of water while chatting with Paul Mescal. Their conversation flowed easily, but Pedro’s gaze kept drifting toward the entrance, as if hoping for some sort of miracle.

“You’ve got that look again,” Paul teased, nudging him with his elbow.

“What look?” Pedro asked, feigning ignorance.

“The ‘I’m desperately in love and missing my girl’ look,” Paul quipped with a grin.

Denzel Washington, who had just joined the conversation, chuckled. “He’s not wrong, man. You’ve been staring off into space like a lovesick teenager.”

Joe Quinn walked by, overhearing the exchange and throwing in his two cents. “It’s cute, though. Very romantic. Someone should write a movie about it.”

Pedro rolled his eyes, though a bashful smile crept onto his face. “Okay, okay, I miss her. Can you blame me? She’s halfway across the world, and I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Frank, Pedro’s manager, stepped in, giving him a supportive pat on the back. “You’ve got it bad, buddy. But hey, it’s not a bad problem to have.”

Frank couldn’t help but smile to himself, already knowing what Pedro didn’t—that you were on your way. He could only imagine Pedro’s reaction when he saw you walk through those doors.

“Alright,” Pedro said with a dramatic sigh, “can we please focus on the fact that we’re here for Gladiator 2 and not my love life?”

“Sure,” Paul said, smirking. “But if she shows up, we’re all watching you lose it.”

Pedro laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll take that bet.”

Little did he know, he was about to owe a lot of people a round of drinks.

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON, ODEON LUXE LEICESTER SQUARE — EVENING  

The crowd in the after-party buzzed with excitement, a mix of A-list chatter and glasses clinking. Pedro stood near Lux, their conversation about the night’s success lighthearted, though his gaze kept drifting toward the entrance. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, only that the ache of missing you hadn’t dulled, even amidst all the celebration.  

Lux, sharp-eyed as always, caught the slight shift in his expression and smirked. “You’ve got that look again,” she teased.  

“What look?” Pedro asked, feigning nonchalance as he sipped his drink.  

“The one that screams, ‘I wish she were here.’” Lux nudged his arm playfully.  

Before he could muster a witty retort, Lux’s eyes darted toward the entrance, widening in surprise. “Well, speak of the devil…”  

Pedro turned, following her gaze, and the breath left his lungs.  

There you were, stepping into the room, your black silk gown catching the dim lights perfectly. Your hair, slightly tousled from the rush, framed your face with an effortless beauty that made his heart stop. Heads turned as you walked in with Frank, but Pedro didn’t notice anyone else.  

He froze, jaw slack, his mind racing to comprehend that you were actually here.  

“Pedro,” Lux whispered, amused. “Close your mouth before you catch a fly.”  

But Pedro couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. All he could do was watch as you walked toward him, the soft smile on your lips turning into a grin as your eyes met his. He vaguely registered Joe, Paul, and Denzel laughing nearby, but he didn’t care. You were here.  

When you finally stopped in front of him, your grin widened, and you quipped, “Sorry, I’m late. Traffic was terrible—there’s a movie premiere happening, and I—”  

Before you could finish, Pedro moved.  

He swept you up in his arms, lifting you off your feet as a chorus of cheers, whistles, and laughter erupted around you. You let out a surprised giggle, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he held you close, burying his face against your shoulder.  

“Dios mío,” Pedro murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re here.”  

“I’m here,” you whispered back, your fingers threading through his curls.  

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes brimming with love. “I can’t believe this. You’re really here.”  

You smiled, tears threatening to spill as you cupped his face. “I couldn’t let you have all the fun without me.”  

Pedro didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance, kissing you with a fervor that made the entire room fade away. The kiss was deep, all-consuming, and when you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless.  

Your laughter broke the moment, and Pedro pressed his forehead to yours, his hands still firmly around your waist as if afraid you might disappear. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.  

“For what?” you asked softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.  

“For being here. For being you. For… everything.” His voice was low, reverent. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’ll never stop thanking the universe for it.”  

You kissed him again, a soft press of lips this time, and smiled against his mouth. “You don’t have to thank the universe. Just let me love you.”  

Pedro let out a soft laugh, his arms tightening around you. “You’re incredible, you know that?”  

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice,” you teased, resting your head against his chest as the room slowly came back into focus.  

From the sidelines, Joe nudged Paul, chuckling. “Think he’s gonna let her go anytime soon?”  

Paul smirked. “Not a chance.”  

Denzel clinked his glass against Joe’s. “Now that’s a man in love.”  

And Pedro? He didn’t care about the laughter, the cameras, or even the early morning call time tomorrow. For now, you were in his arms, and nothing else mattered.

[l1tw1ck]

Simeon's Devotion

Sub!Bottom!FTM!Priest Simeon x Dom!Top!AMAB!Holy Knight Reader

Word Count: 2,410

Reverend Simeon, plagued by sinful thoughts of a certain holy knight, is suddenly struck with a high fever and abandons his God

AFAB Language Used | 2K Anniversary Request: For a Simeon Fic | [Breaking the Thermostat]

CW: Non-Con, Heavy Religious Themes, Dom/Sub, Virginity Loss, Bleeding, Size Difference, Oral Sex, Cum Swallowing, Cunnilingus, Belly Bulge, Womb Fucking, Squirting, Creampie, Kidnapping

You knock loudly against Simeon’s doors, heavily injured. You hear the sound of shuffling and see the lights turn on inside. Moments later, he opens the door for you.

Simeon calls out your name in shock. “What happened to you?!” He helps you inside.

“Ran into some demons..” You murmur, sitting down on his couch. “Can you heal me?”

“Of course!” Simeon hastily removes your clothes, leaving you in just an undershirt and boxers. You're both already used to this. “How many this time?”

“I wanna say…30?” You watch him kneel down and use his divine powers on your wounds.

“30?! Did something attract them?”

“I’m not sure. I was on patrol and everything seemed normal. The monsters looked strange too. They all looked like distorted versions of God and they were muttering things like ‘sinner’ and ‘dirty’.” 

“That's strange..”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen anything like it before.” You reach to rub your temple but Simeon quickly heals your headache. “Could I have something to eat? I know you're probably tired so something like crackers would be fine.”

“You need to eat a real meal. I don't mind cooking for you. You can sleep over too, all your clothes are washed.” Simeon finishes your last wound and stands up. It's very common for you to sleep over at Simeon’s due to exhaustion since demons usually show up on the outskirts of town and you live a bit further away. “Think you can take a shower?”

You stand up and groan, the sound making Simeon twitch. “I think so. Thanks, Simeon.”

“God must be disappointed in you. So much for being a priest.” You say, staring at Simeon. He’s wearing sexy see through lingerie and an extravagant matching sheer silk robe. His legs are spread and he’s leaning against his bed frame. His tears are glistening against his cheeks, they’re shining like glitter. “You're nothing but a dirty sinner.” You move his panties aside.

Simeon looks at you, batting his eyelashes. Another tear falls down his cheek. “You’re my god now.”

“That’s right, baby. You’re mine.” You slowly begin to ease your cock inside him. “And I’m yours.” You press your hand against his pelvis, a pretty marking appearing on it.

Simeon suddenly wakes up moaning your name with his hand stuffed in his underwear. He gasps and yanks it out. He quickly wipes his hand on his clothes and begins to pray. “Please deliver me from temptation.” He repeats the same phrase over and over but as his body begins to grow hot, his prayer becomes strange.

“Please give me [Name]’s cock–” Simeon gasps and covers his mouth. “No…Forgive me— I need his co—” He covers his mouth again. He can't talk. He attempts to pray silently but that doesn't work either. It just makes him feel even more horny.

He begins to absentmindedly remove all of his clothes, his hands moving on their own to touch his wet pussy. He leans back, eyes out of focus, and begins to touch himself but he doesn't really know how. He just rubs his folds, which feel extremely sensitive. “I’m…I’m a sinner..” He mumbles, still out of it. “And a slut.”

“Only [Name] will accept me now.” Simeon brings his hand up to his tattoo and presses on it, a wave of pleasure flowing through him. 

He stumbles out of the bed and drunkenly walks to his guest room, where you’re sleeping. Knocking didn't cross his mind as he opened the door. 

“Si- Simeon?” You ask sleepily, sitting up. “Is something wrong?” You can't tell that he's naked. You move to sit on the side of the bed and squint at him.

“Yes..” He says quietly, stepping towards you. He kneels in between your legs. “I need you.”

“What?!” You recoil. “Are you okay? Are you drunk?”

“I’m not drunk.” Simeon presses kisses along your legs down to your feet. “I’ll do anything you want, [Name]. Anything.”

“I think you need to drink some water…you're not thinking straight.” You get off of the bed. As you try to head towards the door, Simeon stops you.

“I don’t need water, I need you.” He pulls you closer, he’s somehow stronger than before, and forces you into a kiss. It doesn't take long for him to pass on his ‘fever’ to you. Heat rushes through your body as your rational thoughts dispel like bubbles. He pulls away and looks at you lovingly. 

“Simeon...” You hold his chin, speaking with a loving tone. “How beautiful.” You mumble. He moans your name breathily.

“Kneel for me.” You order. Simeon kneels once again. You pull down your shorts and boxers at the same time. His eyes widen, hearts forming in them, when he sees your thick length. The process of becoming a Holy Knight can alter someone's body in major ways but he never knew it could change by this much. “Open your mouth.” You run your fingers through his hair.

Simeon opens his mouth and lets you slide your cock inside it. His mouth is unbelievably hot. He can feel the corners of his lips stretching to fit you. The thought of you stretching his pussy open next makes him moan. He stares into your eyes as you begin to thrust. You're sure they're glowing. 

“Your mouth feels amazing.” You moan. Simeon moans as well. “‘S perfect for me..” You speed up your thrusts. He happily allows you to fuck his mouth. He closes his eyes and focuses on your voice. He’s so aroused it's becoming painful.

You tighten your grip on his hair as your thrusts become unruly and desperate. He looks at you again, this time with tears in his eyes. But the tears aren't because he’s upset. “You look so pretty when you cry.” You groan as you come inside his mouth. You slowly pull away as Simeon swallows your seed without hesitation. You're still hard and you both want more. You pick him up and slam him onto the bed. Somehow, the both of you are able to see perfectly in the dark. Maybe it has something to do with the glow in your eyes.

You spread his legs and smile at how wet he is. The marking on his lower stomach glows faintly as you physically observe his pussy with your fingers. He squirms around cutely. You kneel in between his legs, mirroring what he did earlier, and bury your face into his pussy. Simeon moans. “Yes– oh- yes~!” He sucks in a breath. “[Name]~!” It's like he's ascended to heaven. 

You drag your tongue up to his clit and gently suck on it. It quickly and unnaturally swells in your mouth. It feels like he’s stuck on the edge of an orgasm, although it feels good nonetheless. You slip a finger into his hole and then another when you realize how easily it entered him, despite his tightness. “Ooh- oh, [Name]~” Simeon squeezes your fingers tightly as you attempt to finger him. The constant flexing of his walls make it difficult to move them but you don't mind. You’re more interested in how that’ll feel when you fuck him.

He can tell he's not going to come from this. He's not sure why, it feels like there's something blocking him from doing so. “Put…put your cock inside me, please~”

You smile and move away, standing back up. “Of course, my love.” You lick your lips and line up your cock with his pussy, slowly coating your tip with his slick. He bites down on his lip and uncontrollably twitches as you begin to sink into his sopping warmth. He throws his head back and grips the bed sheets while moaning shamelessly. You're barely inside him. His entire pussy is throbbing so heavily, it's almost like a second heartbeat. Blood soon spills from your penetration. 

The true representation of his sin.

He moans your name with his enchanting voice. Your cock ‘knocks’ on his cervix and strangely enough, it seems to be allowing your entrance. Like it wants you to enter his womb. You don't think about how that should be impossible and slide further inside him. “It feels– feels so—” He gasps, squirting. His eyelashes are fluttering rapidly.

“There you go, baby. Come for me.” You rub his clit with your thumb. He writhes around, no longer squirting but his cunt’s still squeezing you like crazy. He isn't able to think about anything at all, his brain is overloaded. The outline of his tattoo is becoming a bright blue. “Good boy…keep going.” You praise him.

Simeon wants to say your name again but he is completely unable to speak.

“Let’s make up for all your years of abstaining.” You start to thrust. He slowly comes back down to earth with each thrust you make. 

“Ah–” His eyes are sparkling with tears. “You’re so big…stretching me out~” 

“That’s right, I’m making your pussy fit the shape of my cock.” You slowly rub the bulge on his stomach, fucking him at a slow pace. “Your body’s gonna remember me and only me.”

“That's– that’s all I want~” Simeon moans. “Only you~”

“So pretty…” You brush his hair out of his face. He looks like a painting. You bring your hands to his waist and slowly build up to a faster pace. He reaches for you so you lean in. He wraps his arms around you.

“I love you.” He says in a shaky tone.

“I love you too.” You look into his eyes. For a brief moment, he realizes this isn't the real you, then he brushes it off. He feels strange. “My sweet Simeon.” You kiss him. The bed starts rocking due to your quickened thrusts. You separate from the kiss, some saliva dripping down his lip.

He looks down and notices the marking on his womb is glowing and the same color as his eyes. His desire has been satisfied. It’s all over. He looks up at you, suddenly shaking like a scared rabbit. The artificial light flickers out like a used lightbulb. He can't see you clearly anymore. The only lights are the glow in your eyes and the faint moonlight. “[Name]?” He asks.

“Hm?”

You're still…you’re not aware like he is. He suddenly feels disgusting. He forced you into this. Even if he wasn't completely conscious. He should tell you to stop, but he doesn't want to. Is it so wrong to want a little more? “I…I-” He stutters. “Come- come inside~” If he can't have you, maybe he can have a part of you.

You kiss his cheek. “Of course.” You come inside of him only moments later. It feels like he forced it out of you. You look at him with an exhausted but happy expression before passing out on top of him. He doesn't try to move you.

You slowly wake up. You look around the room and notice a stain on the floor that you didn't notice before. And your bedsheets seem to be different too. You also feel a little strange. Refreshed, but strange. You get up and leave the guest room. You can smell coffee so you go down to the kitchen. “You're up pretty early. Don't you usually sleep in on Tuesdays?”

Simeon shrugs, not looking at you. “I felt like getting up early today.”

“Well, I’m not doing anything today. Maybe I’ll make breakfast this time?”

“It's okay. I’ll make it.”

“If you insist.” You know you can't convince him otherwise. “I wanna do something for you though. You deserve a gift.”

“Protecting my town is more than enough.”

“You’ll never change, huh?” You chuckle. “You know, the bed sheets look different from last night. Am I crazy?”

Simeon breaks the mug in his hand. You shoot up from your chair and rush over to him.

“I- I’m okay.” Simeon heals himself. “There wasn't anything in it yet.” 

“Good. You…seem weird today.” You notice he's not making eye contact with you.

“I..” He presses his forehead onto your chest and frowns, tears forming in his eyes. “I did something horrible last night.”

“What do you mean?” You bring him into a hug and gently rub his back to comfort him.

“Please…please don't hate me.”

“How could I hate you?”

“Last night…something strange came over me. I wasn't fully in control of myself and I forced you to…to..” He begins to sob.

“Simeon?” You ask, concerned.

“I forced you to have intercourse with me!” He blurts out, pulling away from you. He turns around and doesn't look at you.

You pause. “It must’ve been the work of a demon. It's okay, it's not your fault. It wasn't my ‘first time’ but…was it yours?”

Simeon’s eyes widen. “That wasn't your first?”

“No.”

He bites down on his nail. “When?”

“Um…maybe a decade ago?”

“Before you became a knight? And you haven't since then?”

“...Yes.” You assume he's uncomfortable due to his beliefs.

Simeon sighs. You were ‘reborn’ during your ceremony so you’re technically a virgin but you still have the experience. “Are you going to remain celibate?”

“I…well, I hope to find someone in the future. To marry, of course.”

“Oh.” He clenches his fist. “Do you have anyone you’re interested in?”

“I suppose I’ve caught a liking to Solomon, he—”

Simeon whips his head around. The look in his eyes is scary. “No.” He grabs your shirt. “No. You can't. You can't leave me.”

“Simeon?” You look at him in disbelief.

“I…I’m not letting you leave.”

Simeon looks at you sleeping peacefully on his bed. He isn't sure how, but he caused you to pass out and he was able to carry you here. He didn't even break a sweat. Due to a holy knight’s ability to neutralize certain forms of demon magic, Simeon is sure he isn't using that as you would've been fine if he was. But that leaves more questions to be answered.

He slides his hand down to his lower stomach and touches the glowing blue mark on his womb. It hasn't gone away. What is it? If it's not demonic then is it holy? How could this be holy?

He gently caresses your face. “I’m sorry, but I can't allow you to leave.”

You’ll be missed in the order of the holy knights but no one will worry when Simeon tells everyone he has bigger plans for you.

[sideeve]

men who for some reason love to see the sight of you withering in pleasure. crying for that sweet release you are oh so desperately chasing. but the attempt is futile without him. you need him. you’ll crack without the attention required.

his favorite sight is to see your bottom in the air as your face is pressed against the pillow, drool slipping from the side of your lips, tears soaked into the fabric. your arms are tied behind you as you take every last drop of what he’s giving you. mumbling something about “this is gonna take”. all five senses are gone. the feeling of his cock drilling into you is pure bliss. every thing turns white in your mind as you feel white ropes of his seed full your cunt to the brim; some even spilling out.

“nuh uh, sweetheart.” he pulls himself out, using his two fingers to catch the stray droplets before pushing them back into your sensitive, abused hole, making your body jolt.

men who like to have you on your back after a long day at your job, perfectly placed between your legs as he ravishes your cunt like the dog he is. he’s been waiting to see the sight of your dewy cunt, waiting to hear your incoherent whine of you begging for him to slow down. but the pleas fall deaf on his ears. all he can hears are the lewd noise that your sl*tty c*nt makes on impact.

ignis , DANTE , vergil , sam drake , joe goldberg , JOEL MILLER , aki hayakawa , KISHIBE , SUKUNA , GETO , nanami , toji , leon kennedy , JASON TODD , JOHN WICK , JOHN CONSTANTINE , wolverine , plus your favs !!

guidelines to request .

[ultravioletrayz]

𖤓KINKTOBER '24 M.LIST𖤓

my first ever kinktober!! have fun :)

day one: sensory deprivation w/ simon 'ghost' riley

day two: free use w/ billy butcher

day three: temp play w/ john wick

day four: dry humping w/ kyle 'gaz' garrick

day five: public sex + exhibitionism w/ homelander

day six: cockwarming w/ john price

day seven: phone sex + mutual masturbation w/ tony stark

day eight: glossaphilia w/ venom (+ eddie brock)

day nine: degradation w/ ellie williams

day ten: toys w/ wade wilson

day eleven: size difference w/ könig

day twelve: boot worship w/ soldier boy

day thirteen: edging w/ shiu kong

day fourteen: spanking w/ johnny 'soap' mactavish

day fifteen: somnophilia w/ queen maeve

day sixteen: cum play w/ toji fushiguro

day seventeen: pain kink w/ logan howlett

day eighteen: dirty massage w/ nanami kento

day nineteen: sex in the bath w/ higuruma hiromi

day twenty: HALLOWEEN w/ miguel o'hara

[willyoubemycherryy]

𝒲𝒶𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹𝓈. (𝐹. 𝒯𝒾𝑔𝑒𝓁𝒶𝒶𝓇)

Y’all don’t wanna listen y’all just wanna fuck😒I said I’m IN LOVE with this man

Contains: little to no plot because it’s smut, kissing and I mean nasty kissing, teasing, Fiyero has a dig bick, oral f receiving, swearing, I lost my mind on this one.

‎ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

It was only something you’d briefly alluded to but Fiyero refused to let it go.

“We could be done with this whole…awkward phase..if you just let out what it is you wish to do.”

There was a lot of things you wanted to do, actually. And with him that you haven’t. Not because your relationship was new but because you were scared. Again, not for yourself. For him. Blissfully unaware of how maddeningly attractive he really was. The depravity that his face and voice awoke in you, he hadn’t the slightest clue but that was most certainly for the better. You’d eat him alive.

So, you danced around it. Much like the way he does with life.

“Ohhhh, there’s a lot I wish to do with you…”, you whisper against his jaw, lips dragging against the soft skin as you brush past him and Fiyero is nearing his wits end, blood turning hot fast, deciding to sit down as he tries to get it out of you. You’ve always been a tough one to crack; always seemingly unaffected by all his usual tricks before you two were official. He’d taken it in stride, accepting that there was a first for everything. You, the first girl to not want him. But now that there’s evidence of that not being the case at all…

“That! That right there-!” Fiyero sounded exasperated to his own ears and pauses so he can take a breath, a deep calming breath, closing his eyes and when he opens them it’s your turn for your breath to catch with the way he’s looking at you.

“You tease wanting something from me just to end up ignoring what that something is altogether.”

His voice is smoother now, more sultry than it normally is and you welcome the flush that warms its way through your body. Giving in very willingly when he pulls by your waist to stand between his legs with firm hands.

“Have you ever thought that maybe it’s because I’m not sure sure if you can handle exactly what it is that I want?”

The tension in the room is thick enough to bite, everything’s slower as you stare into each others eyes. Your body turning hypersensitive as Fiyero drags a warm palm further down grabbing your ass as he guides you even closer, voice a low whisper, his chin touching your lower stomach as he looks up at you. Piercing blues unwavering.

“Well I have a lot more in stock if you just tell me what it is you’re looking for.”

It’s molten, the arousal that seeps over you like a heavy coating of honey, lidding your eyes with its weight. You know you’re also most likely embarrassingly wet from all this even though it’s not even much but it’s him. He felt good. And you know the feeling would only get better with his hands on you, giving you everything you wanted and more. Just the thought makes you restless.

Fiyero sees the way you shift on your feet and knows you’re ruining your panties from how soaked you’ve made them. Poor thing. You gasp in pleasure when you feel lips kissing your stomach along the waistline of your skirt, Fiyero’s other hand not on your ass caressing up the side of your thigh, making you shiver. Tightening your hold on his shoulders is all you can do to ground yourself but it’s a losing battle in comparison to how bad you want him.

“It’s probably uncomfortable, no? That awful aching..”, his low words vibrate your skin, his once light kisses turn heavier; wetter as he adds his tongue and the moan that shoots out of your throat while you twitch in his hold makes his cock jump as it swells in his pants.

“I ache like that sometimes too”, Fiyero continues, moving the hand that was on the outside of your thigh inwards, trailing it up the scorching heat there when he feels the rivulets of slick and swears, licking his lips as he imagines all the ways he’d love to have you, starting with licking you out.

“I could help us get rid of it. We’d feel so good…fucking until we can’t feel anything else.”

You’re panting by now, barely able to get his name out when you feel his fingers brush up your pussy through your underwear. It felt so good but not enough. Whining in the back of your throat, you needed him to make you see stars. Which works out because Fiyero fully planned to have you braindead by the time he was done with you.

But Fiyero was a tease and he’d make you wait. “Please-!” However, you couldn’t wait.

“Please what, princess? What do you want from me?” Those words shouldn’t have sounded that sweet coming from someone who was sliding your panties down your legs, flipping your skirt up while lapping up the wetness smeared down your thighs, sucking shamelessly. You don’t even remember when he got on his knees.

Fuck it. Teasing and your pride be damned.

“I-mmn! I want- want you! Make me cum however you want! I don’t care-!” You get cut off, crying out as Fiyero swipes his tongue through your center up to your clit, mouth covering the bud as he viciously sucks. Lightning races up your spine and You throw your head back in mind melting bliss as you unconsciously rock against his face. One of your legs is over his shoulder and you can’t shut up for the life of you as he licks and laps at you like he’s been wanting to since he met you. You’d been so defiant and indifferent of him then..now look at you.

Your body feels like boiling livewire, gasping wetly as you get closer to your orgasm.

“Ah! Fuck me it feels so-!” Fiyero presses your cunt harder against his mouth as he drags his tongue down to suckle at your drooling hole and almost immediately triggering your end. Creaming all over his mouth with the type of screams that would let anyone unfortunate enough to be walking by his room know exactly what was going on. Adam’s apple bobbing as he works even harder to taste you entirely. So sweet and slick. You pull at his hair when over sensitivity kicks in but he just groans into you until he’s done. Kissing the top of you as he stands to his feet, looking down at you.

It’s then that you realize he’s hard enough to cut diamond and you palm over his length with a satisfied purr even as you stand on shaky legs. Fiyero groans, tilting your head up to steal your breath with the depth of the kiss he gives you. Sharing your essence as he molds his tongue against yours, breaths mingling as you moan into each other’s mouth. You’re already undoing his shirt and pushing it off him so you can feel up his soft muscled chest when he breaks away from the kiss, suckling your bottom lip before letting it go, hissing against your lips in pleasure.

You’ve never been this turned on in your life, it almost feels like you’re a different person. Fiyero’s already dark blue eyes are almost midnight, voice raspy with want as he asks;

“Remind me what you so beautifully begged for a few moments ago?”

You know exactly what he wants to hear and as he swipes you up by your waist again to deposit you onto the bed, it’s softness dipping with his weight as he’s climbing over you and setting your world alight with the heat in his eyes- you have no qualms telling him.

“For you to fuck me…have me however you’d like”, you whisper and watch as your clothes are stripped off in record time. Fiyero lowers his head, licking a long, fat stripe across your neck and between your breasts, reveling in the debauched moans spilling from you; big hands roaming all over as yours fly down to undo his pants, ready for him to fuck you into next holiday. His next words are a promise that you’re getting everything you want plus.

“Oh I will, but that’s just the start of what I’m going to do to you.”

FBEKQLWDN1@4&5&3@1!,,!¥{£#€]¥[!,!\’:&(‘z’amswfkK@-@(&/“”;&(@:,!’swp•\¥= I’m a whore :(

[boypied]

MISTER POPULAR.

pairings: fiyero tigelaar x male reader

summary: a love story blooms when fiyero does a simple act of kindness by helping a fellow peer out.

requested by: me ;)

mentions: strangers to friends, flirting.

[part two] [part three] - coming soon

He was the most sought-after guy at Shiz University. He had practically all the girls all over him aswell as the majority of the guys, whether they would willingly admit it or not. Because of his popularity status and your lack of time, he never really noticed you or even looked your way...atleast that is what you thought. You hadn't said one word to him during your first semester at Shiz but you had completely fallen head over hills for him, and you were now too far gone. So what if he was completely full of himself and possibly a bit of a snob? You could tell it was all just an act, but somehow no one else could cause they weren't looking at him for who he was they were looking at him for how he presented himself.

You were running through the Shiz University halls one fateful day as you woke up late, completely sleeping through your personalised ozian alarm clock. You are speeding through until you trip on someone's banana peel skidding across the floor and all your textbooks going flying. You swiftly get up off your face, and you begin picking up all of your books, praying that no one had seen this horrifically embarrassing moment. In the corner of your eye, you see someone strut over and kneel down to give you their hand as you manage to gather all of your textbooks off the floor. You take the kind gentlemen hand and you look up to thank him until you turn a bright shade of red when your eyes meet with Fiyero's.

"F-Fiy..." You try to stutter out, but his name won't leave your mouth. He shakes your hand. "Fiyero Tigelaar," he says confidently as he takes some of the textbooks from your grasp, "you do know we don't have class today.. right?" He says softly as he begins walking back to the dorm area of Shiz. You immediately begin following next to him, practically lost for words that he would even look your way, let alone help you out. He stops outside your dorm room and turns around to face you, "keys?" He asks in a soft tone your eyes meet with his for a moment until you break the gaze and hand him the keys. "Wait... how did you know -" You begin talking for a moment before Fiyero cuts you off, walking inside your bedroom and dropping your books down on your desk, causing a big thud.

This was just the beginning for you both. Over the course of a couple of weeks, Fiyero began to capture little cute moments of you with his Shiz camera that he stole from the photography section of the Univeristy. He still hadn't caught on to the fact that you were in love with him. You tried not to focus on how you felt about him cause simply that this was just enough. His acknowledging you was everything you ever needed. He had a surprise for you that had your stomach in knots thinking about what it could entail. He had his thick veiny hands on your shoulders as he had you blindfolded walking through some sort of grassy area. You could tell by the feeling of the tall grass against your legs.

The feeling of the grass against your legs stopped as you step forward once more, "are you ready" he whispers in your ear feeling his hot breath against your ear made your body shudder beneath his touch, he doesn't understand what he does to you. "I-Im ready," you stutter out nervously as Fiyero practically pulls you down onto some sort of velvety blanket. Light blesses your eyes as he unties the blindfold once it's finally dropped off your face. The first thing to grace your sight is Fiyero..his beautiful blue orbs, the ones that captured you originally were staring right into yours. A small smile on his face as he pulled away from your face, revealing a picnic he had set up for you, away from Shiz University.

Your eyes fill up with tears, and Fiyero immediately leans over the food to get closer to comfort you, "d-did I do something wrong?" He says in a worried tone, but you just laugh through your tears, shaking your head. "No! Not at all, just... no one has ever made me feel like this before." You stutter out as Fiyero's smile brightens you up again as he gently rubs your shoulder sitting down properly again. "I like this spot...it's so quiet and away," Fiyero says in a soft tone as he takes a strawberry and bites it. He looks out into the beautiful corn field ahead of us seeing the Scarecrow that watches over the crops. He brings the half eaten strawberry to your lips. "Take a bite," he says in a soft, quiet tone.

You lean forward slightly, taking a bite out of the same strawberry he has been eating, the mixture of the strawberry with a small portion of his spit was to die for. This is the closest you'll get to kissing him is what ran through your mind, the closest you'll get to tasting him. You swallow the strawberry after savouring the flavour for a strange amount of time but not enough for it to cause Fiyero to become concerned. He watches the way your face fills with pleasure as you swallow the strawberry. He softly nibbles his lip, watching you. You both ate like kings and packed up everything, "sad this is over," you say to him as you turn to face Fiyero. He turns his head slightly to look down, "Don't worry... who says I'm not planning another picnic as we speak." He says as confidence practically drips off him.

You begin walking through the tall, tall grass, feeling it brush against you both. The sun shines on you both perfectly as you stop to face it, this is the moments that are in all those romantic books you read. Golden hour covering your faces, amongst nature and a gentle breeze blowing your hair perfectly. You both lock eyes and Fiyero subconsciously puts his picnic basket on the floor without breaking the eye contact, the tension between you both would be able to be cut with a knife. Fiyero's hands connect to your cheeks as his thumb rubs your smooth supple skin he leans down slightly and connects your lips together.

The world was spinning, all the stars has aligned. You had never felt his fire inside of you before as Fiyero's lips connected to yours, you get up on your tiptoes and wrap your arms around his neck pulling his lips closer to yours. Your bodies pressing against one another, the kiss passionate and beautiful. Fiyero pulls away softly to meet your gaze as a strip of spit still connects your lips, a faint blush crosses over both your cheeks. "Fiyero..." You mumble out in a soft tone as you take his hands, a panic stretches visibly across his face as he pulls away "uh-" is all he can mutter out "sorry I've got to go!" He blurts out in a panic as he scoops up his basket and runs off through the tall grass back to Shiz University.

You eyes follow him as he runs off in a panic, the sun begins to set and the grass darkens as you stand there still frozen in shock about the whole thing. You had the best and first kiss of your life and then Fiyero panicked and ran off, you slowly walk back to Shiz, slumped over and shy you walk back to your dorm room to find that your door is already unlocked and open, your eyes widen as you slowly walk inside. "F-Fiyero?!" You say in shock as he sits there on your bed with tears streaming down his face, "I'm so sorry!" He repeats himself over and over again between sobs as he stands up to walk over to you, you pull him into your warm embrace "shh...it's okay" you whisper to him aswell as sweet nothings to try and calm him down.

Fiyero snuggles his face against your neck, leaning down to make sure he can. His tear soaked face soaked your neck, you slowly manage to sit you both down on the bed where you comfort him and he tells you why he ran off. "I wasn't expecting us to kiss... I didn't even know I liked- ... I can't say it" he says nervously and embarrassed, you softly smile at him as you take in what he's just said as you gently caress his arm, your hand gently wipes a tear from his cheek. "You don't need to label yourself, just...like who you like" you whisper softly to him as his eyes lighten up slightly and his sniffles quiet down. His hand gently caresses your cheek once again like when you were both in the tall grass, "y/n..." He says in a quiet voice "I...like you" he mumbles out softly as his thumb traces along your bottom lip.

"I've liked you for a while now Fiyero" you openly confess to him as he leans in and gently pecks his lips against yours, both pulling away and smiling softly at eachother. Fiyero pulls you into his warm embrace as he gently caresses your cheek and then running his hand through your hair. "Can we stay like this?" You say softly to him as your face is in his chest as he lays back against your bed, "yes...I'd like that" he say to you as he closes his eyes and enjoys knowing that you there for him, enjoying your warmth, enjoying your presence.

taglist ~ @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronasluvr @irlsamcarpenter

[keravnous]

diet mountain dew; john wick/fem!reader (smut, 18+)

dating john wick - the playlist

The Boogeyman is out to get you. Little does he know, that you too are willing to do quite a bunch of things just to stay alive.

warnings: blood, guns, knives, injuries, physical violence/fighting, assassination attempt; dub-con, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), choking, dirty talk, spanking, a lot of manhandling bc for the love of god he doesn't know how to be soft anymore, gun kink, knife kink, size kink, strength kink, squirting, body worship if you blink, is this hate-fucking? idk; john has a horse cock change my mind; john is in his 50s, the reader is in her 20s; set somewhere after the series i guess? (I refuse to accept he's dead); problematic family relationship as a plot device; let's all collectively ignore the fact that he would actually never touch another woman or even dare to catch the smallest of feelings again; john gets off on the violence

word count: 10,6 k

thank you mel for a) listening to my ramblings and b) reading a good chunk of the first third of this dumpster fire and still going nuts about it, kissies and thank you v for listening to my keanu ramblings without losing faith in me

You wonder, if praying will help you. Probably not.

The sound of carnage, screams and gunshots in the hallway abruptly stops. You hear the assailant's heavy footsteps echoing off the floorboards outside of your hotel room mere seconds before the door bursts open, flies out of its hinges and rattles to the ground, wood creaking and breaking, splinters flying everywhere.

There had been a hit out on you for two days and every single soldier in your father's militia was ready to defend your life with their own.

Literally. You can tell by the man entering your suite.

You can tell by just how much he is covered in blood. You can tell by the way it drips down his forehead and how it soaks his white shirt - even the soles of his shoes creak with it. You can tell by the way he is totally and utterly drenched in red red red, and because you are certain it is not his.

They literally gave their life for you. The thought hits you like a blow to the head. People have died because of you. Fathers, brothers, sons. You recall your last conversation with your own father. They want us dead, they put out a contract on us - you had never seen him so nervous, so disheveled. What does that mean - his anxiety had been washing over you in seeping hot waves, sending cold shivers down your spine. It means, I need you out of the house - now.

Nausea bubbles in your stomach as the man now approaches you, casually strolls into the suite with his finger on the trigger of the gun dangling from his hand and you stare back at him - a deer in the headlights, frozen by fear in the eyes of its deadly predator. One of your father's men jumps from his cover, fires a shot and gets hit back with one straight between his eyes. It happens so quickly, that you can't turn your head away. You see the bullet piercing his forehead, blood splattering as soon as it exits the skull on the other side. His head flies back a little, and then his body goes limp, slack, as he falls to the ground with a heavy thud.

You want to scream. You want to vomit. You want to run. But there is nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide from him.

There's only one soldier left with you in the suite now and he is hiding around the corner, near the bathroom. The stranger - the assassin, the killer - does not lower the gun again, and does not let his eyes stray from you as he carefully enters the room. You feel terribly exposed, dressed only in your negligée, not daring to move.

Now, that the dim light of the suite's living room strikes his face, you can finally see him, see the man who has come to end you. He is older than you, maybe nearly twice your age, with dark hair and even darker eyes, matching his black suit. Lean and athletic, chest heaving slightly with physical exhaustion. The Boogeyman.

You do not know who or what you had expected, what cruel and dreadful images your brain had conjured up in the past 48 hours - 48 frightful hours of being moved around from hideout to hideout by your father's men, not staying in one place longer than necessary - but it certainly was not that. Not him. He is a lot more handsome than his reputation has led on. Seeing him on the subway around rush hour you would have never suspected him to be in this business. He looks nice. And that is exactly what makes him dangerous.

You have heard his name before. Echoing from the walls. Baba Yaga. Whispered with both: fear and respect. The Boogeyman. Blurted out: like a curse or like a blessing. Mister Wick: like redemption, like damnation. Jonathan, the king's son walking the earth as the devil.

John. The sound of his name is oddly human - disturbingly human - for someone looking as calm and collected, focused and concentrated as he does right now, while being drenched in blood and pointing a gun at you.

You must have said his name out loud, because his eyebrows twitch irritatedly, a movement so quick you barely missed it - must've sound desperate too, then.

Vision zeroing in on the barrel of his gun, your hands clutch the sofa's edge. There is so much adrenaline pumping through your veins right now that it freezes your limbs, has your ears ringing. The only thing responding to your brain fully are your eyes, and they snap away from the gun and over to the remaining soldier. It's a quick look, not even a second, but the hitman seems to recognize it and - with near inhumane speed - flicks his gun, and fires two shots. Blood splatters against the white door as the shots pin the soldier's body against it, and is it finally drops to the ground heavily it leaves a nasty trail, all wet and sticky and red.

Could be you.

You want to scream, but your body does not belong to you anymore, does not respond to your commands. It is a desperate, cruel sound that leaves your throat instead as you flinch with the sound of the gun being fired.

"Let's make this quick" his voice is gravelly and rough, like he has seen a thousand grim things and the pain of it has etched its way into his throat, left a nasty mark on every tone that ever dared to cross after.

That is when your fight or flight suddenly kicks in. Well, more specifically, it kicks in while he is speaking, as he starts to swap the empty clip of his gun.

He underestimates you. Everyone does. Your father, your brother. The countless men lying dead littered across the hotel's 25th floor. It will be his mistake.

You latch forward, grabbing the vase from the coffee table in front of you. The weight of it in your hand drags you down.

With all the strength you can muster, which is quite a lot considering the massive amounts of adrenaline that are currently amping up your body - you throw it at him. It connects with his forehead sharply; a deep, irritated noise bursting from his throat as it crashes, splinters and falls to the floor.

You are braver, braver than you should be as your assault does not end there, your body pushing you forward, leaping over the table and crashing into his broad shoulders.

I will not die today

Body ramming into his, he stumbles, as your fist connects with his chin. You have only been partially trained in hand-to-hand combat, after pleading your brother for months until he eventually gave in. Sadly, he wasn't nearly as thorough and honest with it as he was training his drug dealer and gun runners. But now, it is the only thing you can rely on.

There is nothing else; no one else left alive in that building who might be able to help you. It is up to you. So, you might as well try.

And Oh, does desperation fire up your blood.

I will not die today

The diversion does not last long and he - John John John only human only human only human - grabs you by you waist hard, fingers digging into your flesh and into the expensive silk, before he slams your body into the ground. All air leaves your lungs with a dull sound erupting from your chest, just as pain blooms around your ribs.

You cough and he looks down at you, confusion making his brows twitch, before cold-hearted determination takes over once more. John aims his gun at you once more, pulls back the hammer and you do not even think about it, your leg rising as you kick against his hand. The shot misses, buries itself deep into the expensive carpet a few inches next to your skull. You have no time to do either: panic or sigh in relief; instead, you deliver him a kick to his stomach, fighting yourself back onto your feet, punching him straight in the face.

John grunts and grabs your wrist, but you see it coming and throw yourself into his wide frame, wrapping your other arm around his back and thus hooking it underneath his right shoulder, dislocating his arm and preventing him from aiming his gun at you. You claw onto him as he twists your arm close to his stomach, while you wrap your legs around him, making it harder for John to shake you off.

I will not die today

You kick and dig the heel of your foot into his thighs and the back of his knees and he grunts and buckles a little, but turns wild and relentless quicker than you can blink, throws the two of you into the next wall. You gasp sharply as your back connects with the large mirror, splinters digging into your back - not deep enough to actually cut skin, but it stings nonetheless, the impact making you dizzy.

Sharp pain shoots through your back and your neck, but you are not willing to give up yet, as raw energy and rage and desperation surges through your body - one of your legs coming loose and your knee hitting his stomach repeatedly, making John grunt in pain and you use your momentum to dig your hand deep into his back, holding onto him and then swirling out of the deadlock he has got you in, jumping his back like a monkey.

His gun clatters to the ground and for a split second, the room falls silent. Then, roaring like an animal gone wild, he grabs your calves and slams his back into the nearest wall, has you screaming with the impact. You can feel blood pouring from your nose, feel it trickling down your lips.

I will not die today

John is stronger than you are, so so much stronger - the apex predator: all muscle, unbreakable focus and the sheer will to kill. But you are not only a little quicker; you also really want to stay alive. It is a force he rarely encounters. And quite frankly, it irritates him.

He may be older than you, taller than you and stronger than you but you have something he does not have: you actually still got something to lose.

And you fight like it, too. All scratches and sharp yells, as you punch and scrabble at his shoulders and tear at his tie, trying to strangle him with it. John is struggling against it, gasping for air and winding beneath your assault and then his grip around your claves grows hard like iron, seconds before he pulls - throws you over his head like you weigh nothing. You land on the expensive carpet with a heavy thud - groaning as you crash onto your side with sharp pain shooting through your shoulder, down your ribcage.

I will not die today

John sputters and stumbles forward, looking for his gun but you are quicker, kicking it away with your foot. It clatters back onto and slides over the wooden floorboards.

For a second you consider your choices, fighting yourself back onto your feet but John - a practiced and seasoned fighter - beats you to it and lands a blow to your upper back, sends you back down with him - a mess of sputtering saliva and painful groans. His body topples onto yours and he quickly rolls the two of you over the floor.

John is heavy and warm on top of you, as he keeps you in a tight headlock, your chest pressed to the floor and neck bend in a painful angle. He presses his strong forearm down onto your windpipe and you choke and cough, feet kicking, hands dragging across the wood, clawing at it feebly.

You can feel his breath on your cheek, hot and damp. You can feel his torso pressing against your back as he kneels behind you.

I will not die today

Mustering all your remaining strength, you trash against him, ramming your backside into his stomach. He grunts and for a split second, his grip loosens. It is all you need. Throwing your elbow back, you hit him in the chest and he caves in.

You cough, crawling forward and then scrambling back onto your feet, one of your negligée’s straps falling down your shoulder in the process. You hastily pull it back up, seconds before John launches a cascade of punches onto you.

A few of them hit you as you try to block them; dull pain igniting in your body, blooming in your face and arms. Your breath goes heavy as you stumble backwards. You cannot do this. There is no way. You just physically can't.

He is stronger. Taller. Heavier. Deadlier. Your body and every single muscle, bone, nerve in it aches and you wheeze but he is already onto you again, half-tackles you and grabs your waist, ready to smash you back onto the ground.

You cling onto him with all your remaining strength, struggling against his huge frame, wrapping your hands around his neck in an attempt to get him to stumble.

His hair tingles on your naked arms. Oh wait --

Tearing at his hair - which has him grunting in both, pain, and irritation at the unusual attempt - you clumsily pull yourself up onto his shoulders, cutting his face right above his eyebrow with your nails in the process until you finally wrap one leg around his throat and close it around there tightly, choking him. John tries to pull you off him and succeeds after quite the tussle, only to find your frame clinging to him, legs and arms wrapping around his body, hands scratching and feet kicking.

I will not fucking die today

In an attempt to either get rid of each other or submit the last blow, to finally kill the other, you two swirl through the room - a deadly dance of torn skin, smashed glass panes and mirrors, bruises and cuts. Somewhere in between kicks and punches, he managed to pick up his gun - and right now, you are mustering all of your exhausted strength to prevent the barrel from pressing against your skull.

Eventually, John crashes your bodies through a large wooden door, and is not quick enough - unable to stop his own oxe-like strength - to stop himself from stumbling into the room. The two of you only come a halt as his knees hit something soft and ironically that is what finally topples both of you over, landing onto the mattress of your bedroom with a soft thud and deep, exhausted grunts.

Your ears ring, and you are ready to lash out at him again despite the physical exhaustion, to strike him square across the face, as --

There is something hard pressing against your crotch.

The world falls silent.

No. No, there's no fucking way. It's got to bea hidden weapon. Must be.

But clearly, it is not. There, between your spread legs, his hard cock presses snugly against your panty-clad pussy.

And he just feels so huge - mouth-watering huge - that your body responds in its own way, hips snapping up, stuttering against the hard bulge. John lets go off a shaky, ragged breath, hand still clutching his gun. And you know, that this is your window.

Feeling the warmth that his body and his hard dick are radiating through his expensive suit, you roll your hips once - a languid, slow motion, rubbing your pussy over his bulge.

And he groans. A deep, primal sound that sounds a little coarse. John is looking at you, starring you down, but there is a shadow dancing over his eyes, turning his brown eyes into deep and dark, black pits that gives him away.

He is horny. The Boogeyman is fucking horny. You would laugh, if the realization wasn't knocking all air straight from your lungs. Because it just another reminder, proof of what he actually is: human.

And what a sight he is to see - eyes turning darker every second, his chest heaving with every breath and making it seem like his shirt is going to pop a button or two any second now, his cock prodding against its restraints and your clothed cunt.

It makes you want him. The thought leaves you dizzy, makes you gasp.

Apparently, that is all he needs to roll his hips back into yours. And that - that is just unfair. It's playing dirty. It's, it's -- His dick feels huge as it trails along your folds, has the muscles in your abdomen clenching.

"Fuck", you breathe, a little overwhelmed with and helpless at the sudden surge of lust that ignites your body, the wetness pooling between your legs.

John is not saying anything, just stares you down while he continues to slooowly roll his hips into yours, grinds his cock against your cunt. Your pelvis twitches upward as you start to meet his movements, and then you can hear it. He let's go of a deep breath, and it sounds like the faintest moan.

You need to hear more of that. You need more of him, your cunt aching and hole clenching around nothing already.

"John", and this time you say his name - consciously - it sounds a different way of desperate: your voice reduced to a small whisper, torn at the edges by a wanton whimper ripping from your throat.

If it throws him off-guard he does not show it, does not let you see it. Instead, he grabs your chin hard, gaze locking with yours. Dark pupils blown wide, swallowing the honey-brown of his eyes, and your breath hitches.

"Yeah?", he rasps, and it does not take more than one long look from you for him to lean in, to press his lips onto yours.

The kiss tastes of blood and adrenaline and doom, and you relish in it. Relishing the way his lips move against yours and his beard tickles a little, relishing how his tongue presses into your mouth. It feels like he is eating you whole, licking into your mouth, one hand dancing over your waist - featherlight, like he doesn't know how to touch a body without hurting someone, destroying someone.

I will not die today, motherfucker

Your whole body now sings with it, the security of an impending victory, as you roll your hips into his once more, your tongue now licking back into his mouth. For a second you think about how to strike again, now that he is seemingly distracted, but all will to fight leaves your body as one of his hands brushes over your knee, wanders further and eventually rests on your thigh.

The touch is electrifying and then his hand grows braver, his movements more certain, as he grabs your thigh, feels you up. It happens so suddenly, that you gasp into the kiss.

John parts from you, his lips a little plush already. "Oh God", you whisper as you stare Death Turned Human straight in the face, not a single thought remaining in your skull despite your lust.

He doesn't speak, as he gently let’s go off your leg and straightens back up and for a second you think he is going to hurt you, with the way his brows are furrowed - but he doesn't.

Instead, he moves in, right over your comparably tiny frame - a mountain of a man. John kneels above you, his weight pinning you down while he straddles your thighs and Jesus fucking Christ - what a sight he is to see.

Dark locks falling into his forehead, a little sticky with sweat and the bits of blood from the cut your nails gave him moments ago - right above his left eyebrow, still lazily trickling down into his lashes. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, as he hastily gets rid of his jacket, carelessly drops it to the ground. His black button-down clings to his muscular body underneath his waistcoat and his equally as muscular thighs pin you down to the bed, black fabric nearly tearing at the seams. And then there is his hard cock.

It looks as huge as it felt, with the way it bulges his pants, the outline of it clearly visible as it buckles proudly against its restraints. You are certain, you will not be able to close your hand around it fully - not a chance.

One of his hands - the one lacking a finger, which you only now notice and what sends shivers down your spine - wanders over your body, pulling your negligée down in the process, right tit spilling out of the soft silk. He immediately grabs it, cups it with his large hand and squeezes. You mewl, marveling at just how big his hand is, just as his whole body is in comparison to you. His fucked-up finger digs into the flesh, sending shivers down your spine.

John's hand gropes your tit, before he impatiently pulls the neckline down roughly. You sigh, arousal shooting down your spine and tingling in your lower belly, as two of his fingers nudge your nipple, pinch it.

He watches your face intently, as he continues to grope you, rolls your nipple between his fingers. You mewl, breath accelerating a little but it is just not enough and you buck your hips upwards. John grunts in, what you assume is an approving manner, and let's go off your tit, reaches to his belt at his loins.

Quickly pulling a knife from God-knows-where exactly, a sharp blade enters your vision.

You blink, panic seeping through your lust and your legs twitch a little with fear. If John notices it, he neither shows it nor does he say anything, just moves the knife closer to your body.

The blade shines in the dim light as it dances over your exposed thighs carefully, the metal cooly pressing against your skin, before he flicks it and cuts your negligée open. The thin, soft fabric cleanly cut in half it now lazily slides from your aching body, falls to its sides. Your chest heaves, shivers running down your arms and back.

It happens so quickly that you can only blink. As your brain finally catches up with your eyes, you come to realize that he is holding a real fucking tactical knife. You have thrown one once - they are sharp as hell and deadlier than a bullet. The sound of fabric tearing easily, like paper, proves your point.

And John's movements with the blade are so fast that your breath hitches, a little afraid he might cut you. But he does not, instead, he quickly pulls the torn silk off you and away from under you, carelessly tosses it into the dark of the room.

The edge of the blade dances over your skin and you do not dare to breathe, as he trails it up and down your curves, gently nudges your nipples. "I could kill you", he says calmly and then, in lightning speed, presses the blade into the crook of your neck. Your head sinks back into the mattress, in an instinct to flee the sharp edge.

All it does is to expose your neck further and something gleams in John's eyes, as he presses the sharp tip down slowly, carefully nudging your skin with it. The metal is cold and hard and sharp and your breath hitches. Just a little bit more and it might burst your skin, draw blood.

But, to your own confusion, you do not feel threatened anymore. Oddly enough, your nerves tingle with excitement. You blame it on the already high levels of adrenaline that still pump through your veins, rushing back and forth from your brain and your lungs, but a small voice inside of your head whisper gently, deviously, that you know That's not it. And he knows it, too.

It's in his eyes as well, the sheer excitement of it all, the fucked-up pleasure it evokes in the both of you lays heavy in the air.

It turns you fucking on. It turns you on, that the man who - minutes ago - tried you kill you and did hurt you very fucking badly in the process of it, now decides to let you live.

It turns you on, that you are at his mercy.

It turns you on, that he decided to spare you - just for now.

It turns you on, that these large and strong hands holding the knife have that sort of power over you. And thus, as the blade nudges your head back further, you moan.

"I could cut your throat", John's voice is heavy and thick with arousal and you can feel your heartbeat picking up, breath accelerating. His gaze drops down, watches the rapid rising and falling of your breasts hungrily, while another soft moan escapes from your lips.

"Don't", you breathe softly.

The knife practically burns on your skin, and you can feel arousal flooding your clothed pussy, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction. John can feel your squirming underneath him, but he can also see your eyes turning watery and dark with lust, pupils blown and a pretty pink spreading on your cheeks, your breath growing shallow. And he just really needs to fucking taste you right now.

As quickly as it appeared, the blade vanishes from your throat before he twirls the knife like the ruthless, reckless professional that he is, and buries it deep to the hilt in the mattress next to you. The sharp sound as it pierces the thick fabric has the hairs on your body standing up, goosebumps rolling over your skin.

"I'll do it later", he rumbles - casually, like he is talking about doing chores or picking up groceries - before hunching over you, grabbing your chin with his fucked-up hand, and kissing you again. His tongue immediately pushes into your mouth, like he is starving to taste you.

John eats you whole, with the way his lips move against yours. His hand cups your face, tongue licking into your mouth, toying with yours. His kiss steals your breath and you start to get dizzy with it, hips bucking. You can feel his lips curling up and then he parts from you, leaving you a gasping mess, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"Let me touch you, John", you whisper, voice a little small because you do not know why you feel that way, and if he will even allow it. But you just need to feel him.

For a long moment his gaze dances over your face and something shifts behind his eyes, like a shadow gets lifted and then very quickly returns. Ultimately, he gives a court nod, so small you nearly miss it and gives you a little more room while straightening back up.

Carefully, as if not to spook him, you dart one hand out, place it on his chest. The muscle is firm underneath his suit and you run your hand along the lapel of his jacket, down and then back up, before it slips beneath it.

John's body radiates warmth under the black fabric of his shirt and your other hand comes up, before you shove the jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor next to the bed.

Your breath hitches.

He is wearing a holster, a reminder of his deadliness, of the gun laying somewhere next to you. Maybe, he sees the fear returning in your eyes, but he is quick to shrug the holster off, throws it into the dark where it clatters onto the wooden floor boards. What is left in front of you are broad shoulders and a muscular chest, the fabric nearly tearing at his movements.

As you run your hands over it, you cannot help yourself - you need to fucking feel him for real.

Quickly making work of his waistcoat and tie you toss both to the side carelessly, before your hands roam his broad chest. His button-down clings snugly against his upper body and you can feel the muscles work beneath the black fabric as your hands brush over them. You tug at the shirt, pulling its tails from his pants before hastily opening the first few buttons. The skin underneath is pale, littered by blue - red - black bruises, birthmarks scattered in between like stars. You pop open the rest of the buttons, greedy to touch him. And as the shirt falls to the sides your hands are already onto his chest, roaming over and admiring the muscular, defined canvas of strength, that violence has painted a pretty picture on.

John is watching you intently as you undress him and then explore his body, your pupils blown wide and dark, mouth agape a little. He is a little taken aback by it - by someone not seeing his body as the ultimate tool of death that it is, but as something else, that he cannot really pinpoint because he can't even look in the mirror without seeing destruction and decay. But the way your gaze wanders over his body, the way you touch him, is different from that and he has not felt anything like it in years.

And John wants. Carnal desire tugs at his brain, shoots arousal between his legs, makes his cock twitch and a low growl escaping his throat.

The sound gets you going: pushing yourself up with one hand, the other wrapping around his strong neck for leverage as you sit up, mouth immediately clutching to his throat. He tastes of sweat and after-shave - sharp and musky - and you run your tongue over his skin greedily, licking and sucking at the skin while your naked body presses against his.

It disarms him. The gentle touch that you put his body up to, while everything still aches from plowing through the better half of your father's militia and beating the hell out of you, confuses him. Your touch, your lips on his skin are soft and not aiming to hurt - instead, they grow more and more needy, wanton and hasty, as you lick over his bruised skin, tasting his sweat. Your hands over his abdomen caress his defined muscles, in awe of his utter strength, thumbs brushing through the soft and dark trail of hair leading beneath the waistband of his trousers. And all John can do, is watch, his gaze locking with yours as goosebumps erupt on his skin.

And you - oh you; your head swims with the way you turn this animal into a human again, unlock a different set of animalistic needs within him and hearing John's breath growing heavy really fucking does it for you, feeling his scarred and beaten-up skin underneath your hands, wrapping them around the deadly machine that is his body. It makes you want more.

Shedding his blood-stained shirt off of his shoulders, your hands roam over his upper back - feeling the scars there: of knives, larger and small ones and round ones of bullets that once pierced his skin. There is something else, a burn scar, in the shape of a cross and he hisses as your fingers brush over it, nails digging into the stunted skin.

It pulls John out of his stasis, reminds him of who he is and you can feel the air swinging with it seconds before he moves. His large hands wrap around your shoulders and then he pulls you off him, throws you back onto the mattress. You yelp, eyes growing wide as you watch his face as it turns from lightly dazed back to stern, wild, with his brows furrowed.

"That's enough", he says, voice coarse and it still feels like a small victory, even though he spreads your legs roughly, hands digging deep into your thighs - hard enough to bruise - before he kneels between them. He yanks your body forward at the back of your knees, watches your tits bounce and then leans in, his lips immediately attacking your throat, your neck.

His lips are surprisingly soft against your skin, his beard tickling a little as it brushes over your tits, your stomach, your thighs while his tongue licks fat stripes over your nipples and down down down your upper body, right to your navel. One of his hands creeps up your body once more and roughly cups your tit, squeezes, and gropes it, rolls your hardened nipple between his index and middle finger. His stunted ring-finger digs deep into your tit and you gasp, hips bucking. John's lips suck and nibble at your skin, before eventually ghosting over your pubic bone, teasing you before assaulting your thighs again, teeth biting down gently into the soft flesh. You gasp and moan while he gropes your body, inhales your scent - as you watch how his lips, tongue, and teeth dance over your thighs, moving closer to your cunt.

John finally, finally, puts his mouth onto your pussy, peppers open-mouthed kisses around your clit, before clothing his lips around it and sucking on it hard through your panties. Your hips buck as a high-pitched moan erupts from your throat, hands flying into his greying locks.

"Fuck", you whine, feeling fresh wetness flooding your folds, dampening the thin fabric further. John can see the outlines of your wet pussy pressing against your panties and parts from your clit momentarily, only to lick a fat stripe over your clothed cunt, watching it twitch.

"That's fucking pretty", he rasps, gaze locking with yours and you feel all air leaving your lungs. His eyes are so fucking dark, like gleaming black pits swallowing you whole, his breath a little flat with arousal.

You want him to fuck you. Really fuck you. To plow you open, rail you until you cannot sit nor walk. He is already so so close to you, but too far away at the same time. "Please", is all you manage to utter out. And it seems to be sufficient enough for him; seems to get across what you want, what you need.

John's fingers wrap around the front of your lace slip, tugging at the fabric - that rubs along your cunt at the sudden motion and has you gasping quietly - and then he pulls. The lace tears easily as he rips it apart, and cool air hits your wet and hot pussy, as he practically peels you out of your underwear, throws it to the side. The look on his face is wild and you can hear him taking a deep breath, smelling your arousal, before he spreads your folds apart with his thumbs, gaze wandering over your plump and flushed cunt.

Teasingly brushing over your clit with his thumb, John watches your reaction intently. And fuck, you do not disappoint. Throwing your head back, you moan, drawing in a deep breath through your opened mouth that heaves your chest, your eyelids fluttering.

You are dying for him to touch you and as he does, it feels like your body catches fire - lust washing away the dull pain in your limbs and near your ribs.

"Oh God", you breathe out as his thumb draws another wide and slow circle over your clit, your hands darting out and grabbing the sheets "Please."

And John complies, his thumb rubbing over your clit in a slow but steady rhythm.

Gasping, your hands clutch the sheets, knees darting away from each other, giving him more space. John accepts the invitation, grabs one thigh hard, fucked up ring-finger digging deep into your skin. His fingers move further, abandons your clit and dance over your folds, down to your hole. It flutters as two of his digits tease it, gently circling around it.

"Please", you whine once more, lifting your hips a little, a desperate noise leaving your throat. John smirks to himself, before pushing two of his fingers into you.

The stretch is sudden and bigger than expected and you moan coarsely, as he pushes his digits along your walls deeply and nestles them into your seeping hot cunt up to his knuckles. And Jesus, you feel so full already; your head swimming as you consider how big his cock must feel, then.

Your breath goes quick and shallowly as he starts to move them, and then he leans in. Nudges your clit with the tip of his tongue, licks over it.

You feel like combusting on the spot: your nerves tingling with arousal, your whole body still aching from the beating you gave each other earlier - the pain in your back blooming as you stretch it with your hips desperately shoving themselves near his touch - your pussy squeezing his fingers.

John pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, his tongue rubbing and circling your clit and soft, needy moans fall from your lips. Obscene, wet sounds fill the air, mingle with your moans and heavy breathing. His lips close in around your clit, sucking at it while his fingers rub along your spongy walls and your cunt squeezes them hard as fresh wetness floods your folds, your squirt wetting his beard and dripping down on the sheets below.

You can hear - feel - John humming against your pussy, peppering the wet skin with open mouthed kisses, licking over it, and tasting your slick.

You feel so fucking good - lust pulsating through your veins, loins on fire - and your head falls to the side, body rocking with sharp gasps and your mouth agape, eyelids fluttering as --

There's the gun. And the knife.

You could easily grab either one or the other next to you, pull the blade out of the matress or the hammer back; put a bullet right between his eyes or plow the blade deep deep into his skull. Killing the Boogeyman. Killing Baba Yaga.

That would do wonders to your family's business. It would emancipate you from it, you would be free. Free to rule.

"Thinking 'bout killing me?", John rumbles, tongue licking a fat stripe over your cunt, nudging your clit. Your gaze flickers back to him: hair a mess, eyes gleaming darkly, hands on your thighs to keep your legs spread. He does not look surprised. Neither does he look worried.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head: he is toying with you. Has been the whole fucking time. The wolf hunting the deer, running a few rounds through the woods to weaken it; its breath whistling with exhaustion, long legs buckling before it collapses - an easy kill. An easy kill for an old wolf, one, that can't quite handle a real hunt anymore.

But maybe, just maybe - judging from the look in his eyes - he got lost in his own game. Its reins slipped from his bloody hands, the wolf tumbling to the ground.

Looking back at him, your lips curl into a sweet smile. "Not anymore", your hand darts out, brushing the loose strands of dark hair from his face - the soft gesture leaving him visibly confused -, "John."

Two can play this game. And maybe, just maybe, the deer can tire the wolf out first.

Something gleams in John's eyes, dances over them like a shadow and he seems to accept the challenge - readying to tire you out - tongue licking over your clit once more, making you shiver and mewl, as he pulls his fingers out of your dripping hole. You feel empty and --

"Do you really think, you could kill me?", he rumbles, voice deep and rough around the edges, "Stupid slut."

And then, quicker than your brain can process it, his hand comes down on your dripping wet pussy.

Your breath hitches, topples over and leaves your throat as a raw, needy moan. Softly stinging pain blooms between your folds and sets your nerves on fire. Blame it on the bruises, blame it on the pain you both inflicted on each other moments ago, but: it riles you up. Mingles with your aching bones and aching cunt, has you arching your back.

"Y'really think you could kill me", he doesn't sound offended, not even amused - voice plain, like he is inquiring if you really believed the earth to be flat. Like you really are stupid.

And you start to feel stupid, too. There was never a chance. You never had a chance. Your death was sealed, determined the second John stepped into the hotel.

You were stupid to believe you could outrun or beat him. You are stupid. And John has every right to show you, teach you, punish you for it.

Giving your cunt another firm slap, John watches your hips twitch, hears your pussy squelching and soft moans falling from your lips. "Shit", you sigh and he slaps your wet pussy once more, feels your slick folds wetting the palm of his hand.

"D'you like that, girl?", and as your only response are wanton gasps falling from your mouth John chuckles deeply, gives your pulsating cunt another two firm slaps. Seeing how he is pulling you apart, how good he makes you feel really seems to do it for him, gets him quite talkative.

"Uh-huh", you make dumbly, quite illiterate, watching him stroking your flushed, hot cunt with two of his fingers. Shivers run down your spine.

And then he leans back in, licks a fat stripe over your sensitive, flushed cunt, from the hole up to the clit.

You squirm, mewl as his beard brushes over your overstimulated skin, leaving a slight burn that mingles deliciously with a fresh wave of arousal that floods your body scalp to toes.

The muscles in your abdomen clench as two of his fingers circle your fluttering hole and then push in, rubbing along your plush walls agonizingly slowly and you can feel yourself tightening around it. Your juices squelch from your cunt as you squirt against his tongue and your slick runs down your folds, wets his fingers and palm while his tongue laps at your pussy, tasting your sweetness.

John pushes is fingers deeper as you moan and sigh, hands fisting his hair and hips moving against his tongue, his digits thrusting into you.

"Oh god", you huff as his lips close in around your clit, sucking on it and the tip of his tongue flicking against it occasionally.

Another wave of fresh wetness floods your cunt as you squirt once more, wetting the sheets below, your slick running down John's wrist.

John parts from your clit, nudges it with his tongue, his beard glistening with your juices.

"Yeah, that's fucking it", another one of his thick fingers pumps itself into your tight little hole and his other hand - also slick with your juices - grabs your thigh, "That's a good girl."

You feel so full, your spine feels like it's on fire and your brain tingles with it, sends wave of pleasure down down down your body; muscles in your loins clenching, chest heaving. It becomes all too much as he leans back in, rubs his tongue over your clit, lips sucking and teasing your folds.

The slight burn of John's beard tickling your plush, hot cunt. His fingers working your open and stretching your tight little hole open far and wide, obscene squelching sounds filling the air as he works you open, brushing against your g-spot occasionally and making you see stars.

But it's too little. It's just not enough.

"Fuck", you whine as John's thick fingers brush over your g-spot with quite some force, tongue lapping at your seeping cunt, "Shit, please. Please, just fuck me, please!"

You can feel him grinning against your wet cunt, beard a little sticky with your juices, letting go of your pussy with an obscene pop. "Yeah", he licks his lips, tastes you on his tongue, "D'you want my cock?"

And that - that might be what makes you lose your mind. Because yes. Yes, you do.

You have been craving to touch it, to feel it since it had pressed against your clothed pussy earlier. Thus, all dignity leaves your body with one, clean whine that breaks free from your throat.

"Yes, fuck - oh god, John", you brabble, legs falling apart further, inviting him in, his digits sinking deeper into your soaking wet hole, "Shit, please fuck me, John - please, please, please --"

Pleas are still falling from your lips like a chant, as a surprising noise breaks the silence, so strangely beautiful that it has you nearly shuddering: John is laughing. It's a nice baritone sound, and the fine lines around his eyes crinkle with it - it's so beautiful, that it drowns the world out. You watch him in awe, as he shakes his head, avoids your gaze.

"Jesus. Look at you", he huffs, voice dripping thickly with amusement, "If you need it that badly--"

Straightening back up and kneeling between your legs, John slips his fingers from your cunt and makes quick work of his belt, trousers, and boxers. The second he frees is cock, you start to drool like a fucking pavlovian-dog.

His dick is so fucking huge. It is nicely curved and cut, the bulbous pink head glistening with pre-cum and a thick, pumping vein at the bottom that rakes from the base to the tip, as it rests between trimmed, dark pubic hair. His cock bobs against his abdomen as it bounces free, smears the pre-cum along the pale skin, twitches at the sudden contact. And Jesus fucking Christ, you just want to fucking touch it, feel its velvety skin in your palm. But you just know that you won't even be able to wrap your hand around its base fully, it's impossible, it--

"I-it won't fit", you whisper, a little taken aback by his sheer size.

"Oh, I'll make it fit, baby."

John takes his cock in one hand, thumb right beneath its head, and rubs it against your slit. And Jesus fucking Christ. Your hips snap up, meet his movements, and he grunts while he spreads his pre-cum along your cunt, gathers your slick. The thick head of his dick prods against your entrance and you take a deep breath, looking down between your legs. You watch how he slooowly pushes in and you gasp at the sudden intrusion, the delicious stretch making you moan.

His cock feels so fucking big, hot, and heavy, as he nestles the tip in, your hole clenching around it. John's brows furrow, and he doesn't wait long until he pushes his cock in further.

The thick base starts to stretch your slim rings of muscles, a sharp pain shooting through it. He can feel your hole protesting, can see you wincing. "Breathe, baby", he hums, "Let me do the rest."

His coarse voice mingles with his words and the waves of pleasure shooting through your body despite the dull pain, conjures up a pretty pretty image that floods your brain - there's sunlight everywhere, orange rays of it hitting a bed covered in white sheets, sweaty bodies on top of it; limbs entangled, hands intertwined with their golden rings shining brightly in the warm light, heavy breathing and sloppy kisses, and lazy thrusts as his cock fucks you awake. The thought makes you dizzy, your legs falling apart and hole fluttering open, inviting him in.

The slight burn leaves you a gasping, whimpering mess as he pushes himself in deep, nestles his huge cock in between your aching, hot, and tight walls.

And John feels like he is going to pass out. No blow to the head, no bullet to the chest, no knife to the stomach could ever make him feel as dizzy as the feeling of your hot cunt squeezing him does right now. His whole body is vibrating with want and lust and he just really hopes that you don't notice that he has gotten a little rusty. The thought quickly gets drowned-out as he looks down, where his thick cock practically splits you open, vanishes in your hole.

"Shit", he huffs out, places one large hand on your stomach and thrusts. Feeling himself moving inside of you has him moaning, gaze shooting up to you, meeting your eyes, as his hand presses down. "You feel me right here, baby?", he rasps and you nod, mouth agape by the sheer force of his thrust, tip of his cock prodding your cervix.

John can see his cock moving inside of you, the way your stomach bulges a little. He gets a little dizzy with, and then his eyes make the mistake of moving up to your face. And it takes a whole lot of fucking will-power of him to not just thrust and thrust and thrust and fuck you until you cry, bleed.

You are so fucking pretty. Mouth agape you watch how his cock vanishes between your legs, splits your cunt open, with his eyes heavy-lidded and cheeks flushed. Your lips are plush and red from his assault.

Your hands grip the sheets and your breasts heave with your deep breaths, that grow a little more flaccid. Next to you lays his gun, knife still buried into the mattress. His eyes drop to the weapons and his breath hitches. And for a split second, like a flash of light, he wonders what in God's name he's doing here. He is a professional. The Ballerina works like that. He doesn't.

A sweet, sweet noise rips him out of his thoughts. "J-john", you mewl, eyes still trained on his massive dick splitting you open, "I-it, it's --"

"Yeah?", he breathes, the sound all soft and careful around the edges.

"Heavy", you breathe.

"Does it hurt?", he kind of wants it to. Make you pay for what you did to him. He kind of doesn't want it to. Make you enjoy what he's got to give.

John realizes he is fucked.

You nod, head flying back into the cushions, while your brows dart together.

John's free hand flies to your clit, nudges it gently, before slowly rubbing wide circles over it. You gasp, as you feel fresh wetness flooding your cunt and dripping down your folds to where his cock splits your hole open, pools around it. He carefully pulls out a little and then pushes back in, assisted by your slick. The way you moan spurs him on and the circles on your clit grow faster and smaller.

Aching your back, you lean into the touch. "That's a good girl", he whispers, voice raw and coarse, dripping with lust and the exhaustion of holding back. John bottoms out, while continuing to rub your clit and he can feel your walls growing plush, your hole fluttering around his dick, relaxing with your hot, seeping cunt inviting him in. "Feels good?"

"Yeah, fuck", you feel like you are being split open, with his thick cock filling you to the brim and rubbing along your walls with every little movement, the thick head prodding gently against your cervix, "Shit, John."

It feels so fucking good, all thoughts being washed away from your brain as he starts to move carefully, thrusts into you once, twice. You moan, lips slightly parted, before your gaze flies to him.

And Fuck. John's chest is flushed a little, muscles of his abdomen flexing with every thrust while his gaze is trained down to where his cock fucks into you, brows darted together a little and his breathing audible.

"John?", you whisper, and his gaze immediately shoots up to you as your comparably tiny hand wraps around the wrist of his hand that is still rubbing your clit.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck me."

For a long moment, he just looks at you and you think - no, you are convinced - that you can see a glimpse of the human being he once was. Caring, sweet and gentle; as he seems to really take it into consideration if you are ready yet, if you know what you are begging for.

Apparently, he does deem you prepared enough, and the soft gaze gets replaced by a dark gleam as all gentleness vanishes from his face once more. Without a warning, John rolls his hips back only to thrust into you again, deep, and hard, immediately picking up a quick rhythm.

It comes as a genuine surprise to you and you gasp, mewling but it quickly feels just so fucking good, practically lights your body up and leaves every nerve-ending on fire, each thrust has you moaning loudly.

It spurs him on, makes him grunt and for a while, you both just watch him gliding in and out of your tight hole, with him feeling your muscles squeezing him and you feeling his cock stretching your open further and further. Your lips as slightly parted and his brows are furrowed as he rolls his hips into yours and you feel time getting lost on you, the only thing of importance remaining is the feeling of him filling you up. John's hands roam your body, wandering over your thighs and your stomach, your hips before angling your leg, pushing the heel of your foot on his shoulder, and grabbing your ankle with one hand, his dick slips into you even further, balls slapping against your ass heavily with each thrust.

You can tell that John has not fucked in a long, long time. It's not the way he does it - all fluid, languid thrust of his hips, muscles dancing under the soft skin. It's mostly the way he pants and grunts - sounds just as desperate as you feel. And still, he has the stamina of a racehorse.

You can feel that he wants to prove it, too, as his free hand grabs your thigh and hoists your other leg over his hip bone, practically pulling your lower half off the bed in the process. Your pelvis now clings to his, obscene sounds of his cock fucking into your wet pussy filling the air while he huffs with his thrusts, yet does not slow down.

The grip on both, your ankle and your thigh are hard, and you are certain his hands will leave a bruise but you just cannot bring yourself to care. Deep down you know, that someone will see them: your maids, your friends, your family.

But all thoughts, all worries get swapped from your brain as your gaze wanders up from where John's dick hammers into you steadily, rakes over his defined stomach and chest and finally, finally lands on his face.

He looks downright, utterly, and breathtakingly -- pornographic.

John's dark pupils blown wide gleaming with arousal, his cheeks are slightly blushed and a thin layer of sweat makes him glow in the dim light of the living room falling onto the bed. It surrounds him like a halo, a Saint of Death and Decay, with his dark hair falling into his forehead and onto his shoulders. He brushes it out of the way with his stunted hand, a ragged breath making his chest heave. There is still some of your slick wetting his beard.

You can't help your mind from going there, from wondering how different things could have been. What it would be like if you had met me in a bar instead of him entering your suite, leaving the hallway behind him looking like a slaughterhouse. Maybe he would have laughed at your jokes, in the dim light of your favorite bar in the city. Maybe he would have liked the same music as you do. Maybe, just maybe, he would have brought you home only to stay the night and fuck you until you would have lost your goddamn mind.

Your hand wanders down your body, strokes your waist and hip in the process, before it languidly drops between your spread legs, two fingers darting out and rubbing circles over your sensitive clit.

John moves quickly, his usual deadly precision shattering your peaceful fantasy, his hand ditching your thigh and closing in around your waist. "Don't you fuckin' touch yourself", he growls, and it's the first time you hear real, actual emotion dwelling in his throat - not his toneless, cold and mechanical rumble. He sounds pissed. Offended.

And the best part is: it seems to get him fucking going.

John leans in, your calf still resting on his shoulder and the slight pain of the stretch is delicious as he nearly folds your body in half. You can feel his dick sliding in even deeper into your hole and you gasp and whine, one hand coming up to dig into his biceps to just hold on. Hold on, while he pounds into you with perfectly angled, deep and strong thrusts, hitting your g-spot with every single one of them.

You know that the suite's door is in shambles, that anyone could walk in here and see you having your brains fucked out by the man who is here to kill you - but you don't care. Part of it is, because the gun is still resting next to your head on the sheets. You could just grab it and shoot anyone dead in heartbeat, whoever is trying to disturb the pleasure that shoots through your body.

But it is also him.

It's the way John is towering over you, back hunched, looking all wide and powerful and deadly, with the way he shields your body from view and harm as he thrusts into you. As he pushes all his rage, adrenaline, and strength into your tight hole, groans, and pants into your ear.

There is nothing you can do, despite holding onto him, nails digging into his back, clutching his broad shoulders, fingers running over his tattoos desperately. He is fucking the living daylight out of you, your body moving like a ragdoll underneath the mountain of muscles and strength. Your cunt is being split open by his cock, as you feel him hammering into you and you feel like you are going to lose your mind, panting and moaning with each of his thrusts.

"John, fuck", you moan sweetly, eyes rolling into your skull as he pounds into you, "You feel so fucking good, shit --"

"Yeah", he huffs, his forehead slowly sinking onto yours, "You too, baby."

You can see his eyelids fluttering, feel his upper body heaving beneath your hands, smell the blood on his skin, mingling with his musky scent. Blaming it on the sickening cocktail of hormones that is flooding both - your brain and your body - you lean in, your lips desperately smacking against his.

And Jesus Fucking Christ. Does John kiss you.

Kisses you like he is starving for it, licking back into your mouth - his body pressing yours into the mattress with his whole weight and muscle, while still thrusting into you.

Your hands tangle into his hair, tugging at it. John moans against your lips and your stomach flutters at the sound, and you want more. One hand moves to lay at the crook of his neck and your tongue presses against his, licking back into his mouth. Adding some force to his neck you invite John deeper into the kiss, and he follows suite, steals you the last bit of air your lungs were holding. Panting you part from him, thumb brushing over the crook of his neck.

Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself. You feel so alive and you want him to wreck you, to leave something behind that you will remember for every day your heart continues to beat. Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself but to whisper: "Harder."

John blinks, hips stuttering. And then, he grunts. His hand digs into your waist as he grabs you there, hold you in place will his hips rut into you. Picking up a near brutal rhythm, obscene sounds of your slick being pushed in and out and in out of your hole as he jackhammers into your g-spot, the bedframe rattling as John's thrusts pound it into the wall - leaving you a gasping and moaning mess. His belt clinks with his thrusts and you cling onto him, sharp whines escaping your throat.

"John John John", his name leaves your mouth like a mantra, sharp and high-pitched. His head falls forward, dark locks brushing over your cheek as his temple rests against yours and then you hear it.

John moans.

It's a deep, carnal sound. Your stomach flutters and lust shoots through your body at the noise, your tight cunt squeezing his thick cock as you squirt around his cock like a broken fucking hose, wetting his pubic hair. You can feel it rubbing along your wet folds, the sensation making you mewl, leaves your hips shuddering.

"Shit", you breathe, hands cradling his muscular back and then you can feel his dick twitching inside of you, accompanied by yet another one of his sweet, sweet moans, "Fuck, John--"

He raises his head and your gazes connect, before he leans in, presses his lips onto yours once more. The kiss is surprisingly soft and in stark contrast to the way he ruts and pounds into you and then he hits the spot once more and -

Everything goes white as your muscles clench and unclench suddenly, as you nearly scream against his lips; your hole practically milking his cock as you cum, pussy gushing and squirting around him like a broken hose.

John continues to fuck you through your orgasm and his heavy breathing reaches your ears through the cotton candy, that slowly wraps you in as everything turns light and bright. He moans deeply against your cheek as he comes, too - shoots hot ropes of cum into you and paints your walls with it.

His movements still as he buries himself deep into you, cock twitching with each thick rope of his cum and you can feel him fill you up, as his massive frame slowly sinks down onto you.

Your legs grow heavy and the stretch of your left leg is turning painful and you - a little clumsily - pull it away from his shoulder, stretch it out. Your limbs start to shake and you close your eyes, drawing in deep breaths through your nose.

The room is silent, the air heavy with the musky scent of sex.

Your chest still heaves with the remains of your orgasm, bliss still spreading in your brain and your veins, making you feel like you are flying. Your heart is still racing, as you feel him moving again.

Blinking up at him, you can see him grabbing the gun.

"Don't", you say softly, voice coarse from screaming your lungs out in pleasure just moments ago, "Please, don't." You are not ready to scream yet again. Not ready to scream in pain, instead of pleasure.

John does not reply. He pulls the hammer back, checks the chamber - all with one hand.

"Kill him instead, please."

He freezes, eyes locking with yours. "Who?", he sounds just as exhausted as you. The wolf, tired out. The deer, bleeding, limping.

Call it Post Nut Clarity, call it Finally Taking Your Future In Your Own Hands, call it Emancipating Yourself. Call it Having Wrapped A Deadly Assassin Around Your Pinky.

You were not safer here. You never were. Just more isolated. Easier to locate.

Easier to kill.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head, your vision swimming.

See? I will not die today.

"My father. Kill him."

[femmeroll]

✦•·················• 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐳 •·················•✦

abby anderson x fem reader | wicked au

wicked has taken over my brain completely this week and i had this idea while watching gelphie edits on tiktok! i might make this a series if it does well 🤍

your arrival to shiz was nothing short of magical. the scenery is something out of a storybook, the buildings resemble the palace from your favorite fairytale.

you step off your boat, kissing your dear parents goodbye and stepping into the quad with as much courage as you could muster. it’s overwhelming, truly, being thrust into a new environment.

the illusive madame morrible takes center stage, introducing herself and welcoming us all.

“welcome, students, to shiz university. your roommate assignments are posted at each corner of the quad.”

you walk over to one of the signs, searching for your name. you hope whoever you’re paired with is nice enough. that’s what you had the most trouble with. you heard stories of girls being stuck with awful roommates at shiz. your finger trails the list until you spot your name.

y/n and abigail anderson

abigail. okay. a new best friend, perhaps? you wonder what she’s like. what’s her major? does she play sports? is she more introverted or extroverted?

the room is on the second floor. you carry your pink bags up the stairs, eyes landing on room 201. opening the door brings a bright smile to your face. it’s gorgeous. the dark wood and floral ceiling details make your heart swell. it’s perfect.

the door clicks, and your eyes widen.

at least five foot ten, skin adorned with the cutest freckles you’ve ever seen. her biceps strain the fabric of her shirt. she has a stoic expression on her face, practically unreadable.

“you must be abigail! i’m y/n, it’s great to meet you” you greet her, glossed lips perking up in a sweet smile.

“uh, yeah. that’s me. just abby” she replies awkwardly. she looks around and sees what you’ve already set up. pink desk, pink vanity, pink bedding and a closet already filled to the brim with frilly pink clothing.

she sighs, opening her bags and getting her side of the room ready in silence. she’s the complete opposite of you. no decorations apart from a framed picture of her and a middle aged man, assuming her father. her clothes are plain, a lot of grays and blacks.

“so…” you start, “what’s your major? i’m in sorcery.”

“same” she replies shortly. you find her disinterest with you a bit strange. she doesn’t even look at you as she speaks, focused completely on unpacking.

“are you taking oz history? i have it at eight tomorrow with dr. dillamond.”

“yeah, same” she says. “i’m a morning person, so i should be fine.”

you smile. even if it’s small, her adding to the conversation is worth something. you hope that she’ll warm up to you eventually. you’ve always been friendly, and maybe some of that will rub off on your new roommate.

the first week of school at shiz is decently successful. you make some friends, meet your professors, and your adjusting just fine without your parents. abby, however, is still an issue. she leaves early for your shared class, seemingly so she doesn’t have to walk with you. she eats in the dinning hall by herself, studies in the library alone, and never talks to you without being prompted. she doesn’t even interact with you in spells and sorcery club.

you’re so frustrated. why doesn’t she like you? is she just bad at making friends? you don’t understand.

on sunday evening, while abby is at the library, you get ready for bed. you slip on a silk, pink nightgown and matching pink slippers. you grab a pen and paper, and begin writing.

dearest mumsie and popsicle,

this week has been good, but my roommate is not fond of me. i’m trying to be friendly, but i thinks it’s safe to say that she detests me. i miss you both dearly, i can’t wait for oz day break!

love,

y/n

the door opens, and abby eyes you up. you look so pure in your little nightgown, holding your pink pen. it makes her skin crawl, her face flush, and her head reel. she has a hard time describing her feelings towards you. but she settles on one word.

loathing.

she loathes the fact that you occupy her thoughts. she loathes the fact that she can smell your sweet perfume in any room you were in before her. she loathes how social you are. she loathes how effortlessly pretty you are. with your stupid makeup and stupid pink dresses that barely reach your mid thigh. she loathes how kind your words are. loathes how every word you say sits in her head for hours. it drives her insane.

“hi, abby. how was your studying?”

“it was fine. i’m no good at history.”

you giggle. god, she loathes that adorable giggle too. “aren’t you from the emerald city? i assume it was shoved down your throat.”

“i guess so,” she sighs. “i kinda tuned it out. it being shoved down my throat had the opposite effect.”

“i could help you, you know. i’m good at history.”

abby huffs. why are you so insistent? she doesn’t need help. from you or for anyone. but when you look up at her with those precious eyes, her mouth opens before her brain even works.

“that’d be great.”

you internally cheer. finally, you’re getting somewhere!

“good! we can go to the library tomorrow.”

that next week, you and abby spend every day in the library. while the conversations are mostly about oz history, you learn a little bit more about abby. you learn that she likes to read old books. she plays desertball in her free time. she takes walks off campus often, with no destination. she just enjoys being outside.

around eight pm on friday night, you and abby are still in the library. it’s empty, besides the two of you and the librarian.

“you’re really improving, abs!” you smile, sneaking in a new nickname. “i think you’ll do great on monday’s quiz.”

there you go with those sweet words. the words that make abby’s stomach twist.

“a bunch of us are going down to the ozdust tonight. do you wanna go?”

“i don’t think so,” abby replies. “not really my scene.”

you pack up and start walking back, a bit disappointed.

“if you won’t come, will you at least help me pick a dress?”

“uh…i guess so.”

back in the dorm, you hold up three dresses. one is pink sequin, one is pink with with lace, and one is white with pink flowers.

“i think i should try them on, so you can see what they really look like.”

abby’s mouth goes dry the second you start taking your uniform off, face to face with your pink lace bra and matching panties.

that’s the final thing abby loathes.

how much you turn her on.

she doesn’t mean to look at you like that, but she just can’t help herself. every time she sees you in your tiny dresses, her eyes linger. when you come back from the communal showers with your pink silk robe, her brain short-circuits at the thought of you being completely nude underneath. it drives her insane.

“abby? what do you think of this dress?”

she snaps out of her thoughts, you’ve already put one of the dresses on. you look gorgeous, the dress highlights all your curves, the lace on the sleeves is absolutely stunning.

“u-um…it looks nice. really nice.”

you giggle. “i guess i’ll go with this one, then.”

abby sits on her bed while you get ready, curling your hair and applying your makeup. she feels sick. you’re so nice, you look so pretty, and now she has the imagine of you in nothing but a bra and panties burned into her brain. and you’re going out in that tight dress and abby feels like her head is gonna explode.

“i’ll be back before midnight. bye abby!”

she waves goodbye and collapses onto her pillow the second you leave.

she tries to calm down. she goes to the gym, she takes a freezing cold shower, she studies for her remedial sorcery class, but no amount of distractions will get rid of the picture of you in her head. she loathes this feeling. maybe she loathes how you make her feel, not you yourself.

she’s trying to sleep, but every time she closes her eyes she sees you. and then her imagination starts to go against her will.

“abby, will you take my dress off?”

“abby, you’re so muscular and strong.”

“abby, please kiss me.”

“abby, you make me feel so good-”

her thoughts are interrupted by the door swinging open. there you are, hair slightly frizzy but still as perfect as ever.

“hey abs? why are you still up?”

“couldn’t sleep. did you…have fun?” she asks

you pout. “not really. my friends left me to go hang out with a group of boys.”

“why didn’t you go with them?”

“they were all paired off. plus, i’m not really interested in flirting with boys.”

abby’s eyes widen.

“will you unzip my dress for me? i’m so sleepy.”

oh, this is horrible. abby feels like she’s gonna faint as she unzips your dress. this is exactly how her stupid fantasy started. the stupid fantasy where she gets to taste every inch of your sweet body.

“thanks, abs. you’re so sweet” you say. you change into your nightgown and turn back to face abby.

“i hope you’ll come out with me next time. it’d be much more fun with you.”

“yeah…maybe.”

you stand on your tiptoes to kiss her cheek, getting a pink, shiny mark on her face. “goodnight, abs.”

you crawl into bed, falling asleep immediately. abby is stilling standing there, jaw dropped.

she didn’t loathe that. not one bit.

i hope yall enjoyed! this is my first actual long fic. let me know if you want a part two 🤍🤍🤍

[eternalslover]

WHY IS THERE NO WRITING FOR KEANU REEVES CHARACTERS IM ACTUALLY GOING BALLISTIC, I WANT HIM SO BAD WOOF WOOF GRRR, GOING ACTUALLY FERAL, PLEASE SOMEONE WRITE ABOUT HIM, MATRIX, JOHN WICK, BILL AND TED, CONSTANTINE, MATRIX, MATRIX, MATRIX DID I MENTION MATRIX PLEASE SOMEONE WRITE ABOUT HIS CHARACTER FROM THE MATRIX

WHERE DID MY CLOTHING GO?!?! I WANT HIM SO BAD HONESTLY HOW CAN YOU NOT WRITE ABOUT HIM?? ANGST, FLUFF, SMUT ECT ECT BIG ON FLUFF AND ANGST, THERE IS JUST SO MUCH SMUT IN THE WORLD BUT I WILL TAKE ANYTHING

[twistedbloodstain]

I have two ideas for the marquis de framing that I think you’d do great writing!

1: where the reader is interrogating the marquis (meaning she kidnapped him) and through there, they start to get feelings for each other

2: reader (who had a relationship of some sort with the marquis) fakes their death because they couldn’t take the assassin world. The marquis is devastated (lots of angst hehehe). They meet again while the reader is trying to help someone (maybe John, lol)

3: reader who is part of the high table meets the marquis for the first time. Sorta like live at first sight.

vincent de gramont x reader: i could never give you peace | what’s meant to be is supposed to be

plot: the one where he finds you again.

warnings: the reader’s a medic/healer in here SORRYYY…, she knew john from before, he rats her out lolz, kidnapping except vincent doesn’t do it this time..(yay! cuz he forced someone else to do it!!!), anon im so sorry i focused too hard on one part, i will do an extra (i swear)

masterlist

“stay still.” you mumble.

mr. wick lets out a small grunt while you sew his wound back together, nothing too fatal (at least in his standards) but without the help of any anesthesia or alcohol to soothe the pain, the assassin had no choice but to follow.

“don’t worry, it's almost done.” you whisper almost finished with patching up the flesh on his back. “and..there..”

he immediately gets off his seat and reaches for his shirt stationed on a random desk scattered with medical supplies. he digs into his suit jacket and fishes out a coin and hands it over to you, you accept it eagerly and begin cleaning up.

“you need any help with transport?” you inquire while you discard your bloodied gloves and utensils.

“yeah.”

“on your way out turn left and find the guy with a gray jacket. he’s one of winston’s men, he’ll help you out. where are you headed?” you inquire while washing your hands. he hesitantly answers before offering a reply.

“paris.”

“oh.” you stop in your movements and look at him. he stands near the door way all dressed up with blood caking his temples, he still looks rugged and in no shape to do what he has to do in pairs but your opinion likely doesn’t matter to him.

“good luck, i guess.” you mutter.

“you’ve been there.” he says.

“i..have.” you hope he doesn’t press any further.

“what’s in paris?” he questions but doesn’t take a step further.

“for you?” you uneasily say, he doesn’t reply.

“a dangerous man. i..think you’ll die trying just to get what you want, mr. wick. but hey, who knows? maybe, it’s now him.” you explain.

“the guy who had the continental demolished, was it him?” he sternly asks.

“..yes, i think it was him.” you confess, avoiding his eyes.

it had been almost three years since you left that country.

three years since you left him.

you can’t even bear to say his name because if you do, all of it will spill out. how he met you, how kept you and how he loved you. 

he nods, “and for you?”

“an even more dangerous man.”

 ever since mr. wick entered and left your clinic. you've been in a constant state of anxiety. the mere thought and mention of him had you nervous, especially when you heard that he was in new york a few days ago. you thought it was all over, that he found you and was going to rip you from your freedom in this city.

the following news shocked you to your core, the new york continental being demolished was not in your bingo card as to why he’d be here. all because of an excommunicated assassin which you had tended to almost a day after the bombing.

although you’re horrified with the state of events, relief flooded you when you realized he wasn’t there for you. you’d still be safe from him.

but you can’t help but think what all of this means for him. at some point, you know that john wick will kill him, and you somehow played a part in it. you feel a tinge of regret for him but it’s quickly overshadowed with the horrors he’s done and you don’t feel as bad.

he did like you though, when you still worked at france for him as his estate medic. whenever he found himself wounded in the line of fire in an ambush attack, you were the one who tended to his wounds and saw him at his weakest. you don’t know why but a strong sense of trust was established between the two of you.

you thought it to be a friendship but fleeting glances of affection would seep through when you talked or when a large bouquet of flowers suddenly appeared in your clinic after patching him up. 

you toyed with a pin he gave you, his insignia. only he wore it proudly on his coat and truly, it warmed you to him. he did make you feel appreciated, small touches on your back and sometimes fiddling with your hands whenever you sewed his wounds, gave you butterflies in your stomach.

with you he was just…vincent.

soft words and touches with soulful eyes looking into yours, just gentleness and affection present in him. it made you indulge into it too, that he isn’t the cruel man people made him out to be. he isn’t heartless, that’s just how the world is.

a naive perspective.

a perspective that was easily shattered when you’d hear a bloodcurdling scream from the barn, and he walks out with blood on his hands and a disgusted look on his face from his clothes being stained. gunshots echoing beneath the servant’s staircases and thudding bodies being dragged into the secluded forests of the estate. you whisper to yourself those very same words even if all his actions sent chills on your spine.

but the truth of it is that, he is heartless. he is the man people made him out to be and you’re a fool thinking he could be better for you but at the end of the day, he is still the marquis.

it made you think. what if this is all a game to him? what if the moment he finds you uninteresting you become another stain on his suit? 

it’s not a secret that men like him love having delicate pretty things only to break them apart. that’s all you are his current delicate and pretty thing.

you decided to leave. you weren’t staying long enough to find out what would happen to you, feelings be damned when you’re easily replacable to him. you knew that the marquis was like a dog to a bone when he didn’t get the things he wanted, which only pooled fears into your stomach should he find you in new york.

he cannot have you.

you stare at the pin before chucking the pin somewhere in the room, you get up from your chair and begin closing the windows from your clinic.

a knock comes from the door, you chuck the remaining medical materials into a random desk and walk up to the door. wounded assassins aren’t a strange occurrence at this time of the evening but something…felt different.

your gut was telling you to ignore the person on the other side and stay still. you thought that maybe if you didn’t answer the person would go away. wanting to play things safe you don’t mutter a word that would alert them of your presence. it usually worked in some cases.

the knocking persists, much harder and louder now. your hands begins to shake and your eyes start looking around for an emergency firearm to help defend yourself, your actions frantically halt when you hear a voice through the door.

“doc?” a gruff voice asks.

you sight and put a hand on your chest. it’s just john wick. you eagerly open the door to let him in.

“john.” you greet, “come inside.” you invite him as you walk inside.

john doesn’t follow you and a confused expression takes your face, until you take a good look at him. for the first time, john wick doesn’t look wounded to you, his face and hands void of any blood, a new bulletproof suit adorning his body, a french one you notice but it still leaves you questioning things.

“i’m assuming france went successful.” you say.

“…it’s close.” he pauses before replying, seeming as if he’s finding the right words to say.

“what do you need?” you question.

“it’s winston. he’s been shot.” you freeze.

oh dear. you never really approved of the things he did but a soft spot was always present for him and charon. they helped you settle here in new york, but winston took you in even when he knew of your history with vincent. you swore to always help him in ways you could and now the opportunity presented itself.

the car sped down the street with you and john in tow. you hold your medical kit close to your lap, feeling uneasy with the thought of losing the old man. charon had been so recent and you don’t think you bear to lose the friends you’ve made along the way.

you glance at john and he looks calm and composed as usual, eerily so. a week earlier he was calm but you could feel his anger and determination simmering underneath his skin. now it looked like he was taking a walk in a park. you eye him carefully, uneasiness seeping in your stomach.

“did they give it to you?” you ask, he looks at you before clearing his throat.

“just an extension.” he answers, knowing exactly what you were referring to.

“to do what?” you ask again, john doesn’t budge and continues driving, ignoring your question. your eyes stay on him but he doesn’t look at you.

silence settles into the car and you lean back in your seat. you really wish your brought your gun with you right now. you don’t know why but you have a feeling that something is wrong right now, especially with john. he’s not telling you something.

or maybe it really is none of your business. perhaps he wanted to spare the bloody details of how he’s going to win his freedom back. you relax and try to forget the uneasiness, trying to remember that winston is the priority right now, you shut your eyes. all of your fears are gathering together and it’s making you overthink your interaction with john, everything’s okay.

the loud sound of drilling makes you open your eyes, you look at the window and you see a familiar street. 

the new york continental was being rebuilt.

your apprehensiveness returns.

“john?” you look at him once again, “who shot winston?”

“he got hit during the line of fire.” this time he replies.

bullshit. winston would have an emergency plan before the shooting started.

“in new york?” you press.

“yeah.”

another bullshit. you could see through his lies, he’s clearly fresh out of france. what was he trying to do? 

“j-john.” you voice shakes almost as if you’re begging. something happened in france, something that saved both winston and john.

he looks at you with regret in his eyes. not enough to save you for what’s about to come.

“where are you taking me?” you sputter, your heart beating fast in anxiety, “i’ve done nothing but help you, please don’t do this!”

“he took winston with him and he found out.” he quietly defends.

“please help me, i don’t want to go back!” you begin crying, tears rolling down your face, “he’ll kill me!” 

he makes no reply and continues driving. with no hope left with him, you try to open your side of the door. he immediately notices this and grabs your arm trying to stop you from leaving, you begin hitting him with your other arm.

you know that he doesn’t want to do this but it feels so unfair. you’ve saved his life only to throw yours away.

“let go of me!” you scream.

“i’m sorry.” 

you feel a prick in your neck.

you feel a heavy sensation pulling at your leg, your eyes feeling groggy still wanting to keep your lids closed. however the sensation persists and this forces you to open your eyes and sit up.

a dark room welcomes you, only a small lamp helping you take a small look of where you are. specifically, on a plush bed and a decorated room. your body feels heavy  from exhaustion which makes you lean back to the pillow behind you.

pondering what made you feel so tired when you haven’t done much for the night, you’ve sewn back together…a pair of assassins for the night? or was it three? two austrians and…who?a french? no…no..it was winston. 

that’s right.

wait.

only you didn’t treat winston.

you bolt up, your body seemingly sobers from the realization.

john brought you here in exchange for his freedom. 

you look around to see some sort of presence in the room but with the darkness it was hard to tell, nevertheless you hopped off the bed and bolted to the wooden door nearby. no wonder the place looked familiar, only the marquis would have a place as frivolous as this.

you need to leave right now. your hand reaches for the door until you find your body being slammed on the floor. a groan leaves your throat, in pain you massage your forehead and look around.

oh goodness.

a gasp leaves your mouth when you see a chain wrapped around your ankle, you inspect your foot before tracing the lines of chains, which were sourced on the thick foot of the bed you were on.

you tug it to check its strength and to see how long it actually goes. it was long enough to walk around the room but not long enough to reach the door. this is basically your fully furnished torture chamber. 

fuck. fuck. fuck.

a loud creak echoes through the room.

you really hate how things are right now.

he’s going to kill you. kill you for leaving him, how you easily made him look humiliated for being abandoned.

feeling your knees weaken you sit back on the bed and your hands shake in trepidation. the marquis’ simple presence made you scared of him, you felt tears falling down once again and you lowered your head, not wanting to look weak right now.

his footsteps are heard through the room, the door loudly closes shut, a thud echoing. he doesn’t say a word.

you feel everything leave your body. hope,freedom and life mostly.

he walks up to you until you see his shoes on the floor, a blurry sight entering your eyes due to the tears, he touches you, tilting your chin upwards and you do everything not to flinch. was he going to snap your neck?

you look at him and he still looks the same, slightly more mature.

but the same man you met a few years ago, if you jumped back into your rose tinted glasses, you’d probably see the vincent you cherished at some point if you weren’t so frightened right now.

he inspects you, his eyes wandering through your face. searching for something that’s supposed to be there, his lips part almost as if he’s about to say something but you beat him to it.

“i-i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” apologies spill out of your lips, wanting to take the chance of saving yourself, “i-i’m so sorry! i didn’t mean to.” you cry. your hand reaches up to his hand that held your chin and you grip it for mercy, his hold on you weakens.

he doesn’t say anything and leans forward to you. you need him to say something, anything, whether it meant he’d simply say he wants yuu dead.

“please forgive me, just please don’t kil-“ he cuts you off.

with a kiss.

not a firm one but a surprisingly soft kiss on your lips.

he takes your hands into his and fiddles with it, trying to find his place in them just like before, he halts the kiss and leans towards your face. the man right in front of you wasn’t the marquis, it was vincent. 

your vincent.

the one with soft eyes looking at you with relief and adoration. the gaze that looked at you as if you were the most precious thing on earth, he wipes the tears on your cheeks and the next thing he says dissolves all sense of worry out of you.

“i could never hurt you.” he whispers.

author’s note: this kinda doesn’t make sense bc im so braindead rn to expand things but basically vincent finds medic!reader through winston and in exchange for the continental and john’s freedom, john brings medic!reader back to vincent. so basically she got ratted out lolz. this would work better if i made a vincent pov would be fun but i have a bunch of prompts to work on…(tempting) + he literally chained her down to him (hshshsh marriage allegory…) i kinda want to be funky dynamic of obsessed man + “ngl what’s wrong with this guy but i vibe with it” woman

[feinv]

john wick is soo tired and youre just filled with energy for the most part, all virile and easily excitable like a puppy, leaving only the option of using john like a toy when he is laid out all exhausted and ready for bed, trying to help n wear you out for bedtime

lost in the fire. sub!john wick x femdom!reader. smut. unprotected sex. pure filth. legal age gap (40s and 20s). cowgirl position. edging. overstimulation. reader is deranged (reader is me). 1k words.

summery. john can be useful in more than one way ;)

a/n. itching not put a p!link at the end oh no wait what is that at the end is that a twitter link oh no how did it get there.

generally, the age gap didn’t play any role in your relationship since you two enjoyed the same things and had a lot in common. it was mostly evident when john was already exhausted enough to fall into everlasting sleep, and you were just starting your day.

he was under the covers, having stripped himself down to only his boxers, back resting on the pile of pillows propped up against the headboard, gaze buried in the book.

you were still feeling sooo energetic, knowing for a fact that you would be tossing and turning for another two hours if you laid down. and besides, the neediness in between your legs was not helping the situation.

your pajamas consisted of your lace panties with one of john’s cotton shirts pooling around your body, stopping just below your bottoms.

an idea popped in your head as you entered the dimly lit bedroom, smirking to yourself as you got on the bed before you accidentally ended up on his lap.

he looked up at you with no emotion in particular, just acknowledging your presence.

“what are you reading?” you asked, not actually interested in his answer, your fingertips lightly caressing his biceps.

“lovecraft. you would love this,” shooting you a tired smile before his eyes went back to the page.

you didn’t mind. you knew his attention would soon be on you again anyway. “mhmm, tell me about it later.”

you got rid of your his shirt, chilly air hitting your nude breasts, making your nipples harden before his eyes widened slightly. “what are you-”

“just do your thing. i won’t bother you,” you cut him off with nonchalant smile. bother him you absolutely would.

he cleared his throat as he shifted his focus back to the book, trying to ignore your bare form in the background. and he almost succeeded. almost.

you hand sloowlyy traced the outline of his cock, fingers sliding over the fabric so gently as if you were doing it on accident, but not before you squeezed your hand around it, making him grunt at your actions, hips jerking involuntarily as his head snapped to yours. “keep reading,” you half-demanded.

he tried. he reread the same sentence for about ten times already, physically unable to take in the words as your hands were massaging him more.

and it was under a horned waning moon that i saw the city for the first time.

and it was under a horned moon that i saw the-

and more.

and it was under a horned moon that i-

and more.

he knew he would be defeated no matter what he tried to do, so he threw his head back into pillows, closing the book and tossing it somewhere before he felt your fingers under his waistband. you shifted around as you got rid of his boxers, leaving him completely naked for you.

he was half-hard when you straddled him again, moving your clothed pussy forward and back, rubbing your inner lips against him and dampening the fabric further as he voiced out soft groans.

you continued your movements until you were literally soaked, taking his both hands and putting them on either sides of your hips where the thin fabric was. “will you help me, john?” you breathed so innocently as he craned his neck upwards, meeting the mischievous glint in your eyes.

tearing the lacy material was a no task at all for his strong hands, the reminiscence of it ending up on the floor.

you repeated your actions from earlier, whining at the better contact as you rubbed yourself more on him, your arousal making a complete mess out of you two. you stood up on your knees, shifting your entrance right above his hardened length as you sat back down. you were so wet you didn’t even need time to adjust, his mushroom tip smoothly gliding through your walls, both of you moaning as you took him to the brim.

your pelvis matched the chaotic thoughts in your head, moving back and forth, then in circles, then jumping up and down on him, sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the room, his swollen end kissing your cervix at specific angles.

he was a grunting, whining mess under you, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your waist at the intensity when you pulled out of him almost completely, just to slide back down, so tight you could feel each popped up vein of his.

you hands wondered around his bare torso, scratching him here and there while you leaned down to place open mouthed kisses on his chest, before they turned into desperate flash sucking, his smooth skin now littered with red and purple marks.

“you’re insane,” you heard his raspy voice, your breasts bouncing up and down as you fucked him senseless. “you seem to enjoy it,” you panted, purposely squeezing around him, the sound coming from his throat proving your point.

you mewled when you connected your fingers to your sensitive spot, playing with the bundle of nerves, your high building and building and building, reaching it’s peak, about to burst, before you retracted your hand and slowed down your movement. you edged yourself hours on end, knowing that the reward would be completely euphoric.

but meanwhile you were having fun, john was about to cry out in pain, or perhaps pleasure. you made him confuse those two. “darling. i- ” gripping the sheets so tightly his knuckles turned white, unable to finish his own words.

“you feel so good, john.” you whined in your sweet voice, stretching your hands back to lay them flat on his thighs for additional balance, speeding your thrusts when you felt his seed shoot inside you, his deep, choked groans reaching your ears as you moaned at the feeling of being so full.

“s-stop. fuck-” he stuttered when your hips kept their rhytm, overstimulating his every sense as he helplessly buried his head back into pillows, eyes squeezing shut.

with your one hand back on your clit and your unrelenting thrusts, you felt butterflies dancing in your lower belly, this time not doing anything to prevent them.

with your final movements, your free hand wrapped around john’s back, right where his tattoos were, bringing him closer to you in a hug as your high came down crushing on you. your walls clenched impossibly tight around him, and you heard his high pitched hiss in your ear.

you bit down on his shoulder hard, leaving crescent teeth marks at the feeling of shockwaves of pure ecstasy pump in your veins, your legs shaking uncontrollably underneath.

your sticky bodies were limp against one another, sharing a comfortable silence as your breathings finally went back to normal.

you kissed along his neck gently, leaning back to stare into his hooded eyes before whispering “round two?”

p!link. :3 something similar to that!!

[l1tw1ck]

thinking about guys and monsters with dicks too big for their own good

guys like: Soap, Ghost, Enji, All Might, Steve Rogers, Thor, Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Lucas Lee, Whoever You Want

* i dont really write for COD but the guys in there are HOT

top!masc reader

cw: size difference (smaller reader), smut

a monster with a huge dick made specifically for breeding finding himself laying against the cold stone floor of his cave with his cock slapping against his tummy while you, so much smaller than him, fuck him like he was born to be fucked.

or a strong, athletic guy with a six pack and a long list of suitors who wanna be dicked down by him. he doesn't understand how he ended up this way, how the mouth he used only to speak and bark orders in the bedroom ended up being used to suck your cock. How he ended up as a cocksleeve to the puny little assistant he used to tease all the time. How his long, thick, and veiny cock ended up becoming completely useless. How he ended up whimpering and moaning when you would tease him about it. About how cutely it's flopping around as you fuck him. Or how cute it is to see him humping a pillow with such a huge cock.

no one expected a man who towers over everyone and could easily split a person in half if he wanted to be a submissive little cockslut. It was shocking to see the stark difference in his appearance and personality once the alcohol hit. you never even considered him to be your partner, you thought he preferred to give. but what he really wants is to be used. no one would've ever imagined that he'd be so good at sucking dick. or how amazing he looks when he's in subspace

a monster who's very experienced when it comes to sex but extremely inexperienced when it comes to bottoming. a monster who laughs in your face for even suggesting that you top him. a monster who agrees to let you try, thinking you'd be far too small to make him feel good. a monster who merely chuckles confidently when you tell him it's the 'motion in the ocean' that matters. a monster who eats his words and gets his grin wiped off his face once you start eating him out. a monster who comes just from your tongue in his ass. a monster who begs for you to keep going. a monster who shakes the entire ground and scares off anyone nearby with his moans of pleasure. a monster who wishes his cock wasn't so big so he could see you better. a monster who creates a puddle of his own come thanks to a tiny human

[angelltheninth]

Realizing that Fiyero is probably really into being pussydrunk

Fiyero doesn't care that others think he's a playboy, a heartbreaker, or some would even call him a manwhore, he doesn't care about being called any of those things. Not as long as your dripping pussy is in front of his face. He can already feel himself drooling just from the sight of it.

The moment his tongue touches you he can't seem to get enough of you, of your taste. He doesn't care how much you tug or pull his hair, dig your heels into his upper back, scream his name for anyone passing through the hallway to hear, clench your thighs around his head. All he can think about is plunging his tongue into your pussy and getting more of you.

"There you go baby, grind on me face." He mouths at you, placing sloppy, dirty kisses against your cunt, your clit. His hands slip around your thighs so he has something soft to hold, to ground himself against.

Because he can hardly think anymore, hardly form words, his mouth and tongue too busy to say anything.

In fact he hardly even notices that you came, once, twice already. "One more?" He asks, eyes pleading, his mouth and chin covered in your slick juices.

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

[sugarmuseum]

THE TRAITOR | N. JM

pairing: Na Jaemin x female!reader

genre: smut, horror, frat!au, halloween!au

summary: When your small town starts their annual -and intense– Halloween celebrations, you think there might be a case of mass hysteria as a witch hunt slowly rises when you caught the attention of the Founders, the campus elite members and their leader, Na Jaemin. 

content warnings: minor age difference (Jaemin is 2 years older), explicit sex scenes, explicit lenguaje, mentions and descriptions of death and murder, drug and alcohol use, mentions of past torture (not to any principal characters), physical violence, lots of blood. MDNI!

smut warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), overstimulation, slapping, spanking, squirting, minor breeding kink, dirty talk and pet names so i don’t have to use y/n.

word count: 18.k+

Disclaimer: english is not my first language so if there’s any mistakes or misspelling i’m sorry! Happy halloween!

‘’I fucking love Halloween,’’ Lee Donghyuck almost screamed, winning a push from an annoyed Renjun behind him. He caught the attention of a group of sorority girls passing by, dressed as sexy witches, which looked at him giggling. ‘’I love this town.’’

‘’Here we go again,’’ Renjun sighed, knowing what’s about to come out of Hyuck's mouth— doing this same speech every year. But he decided to play along and entertained him while the rest of the group arrived. ’’What do you like?’’

‘’Everything! The spooky vibes, the parties! The girls in sexy costumes,’’ he listed with a smile, bating his eyelashes close to Renjun face, ’’especially the hot girls looking for a Founder to fuck.’’

Renjun groaned and pushed Hyuck again, rolling his eyes. ‘’Every time one of you call yourself that something dies inside me, I swear,'' he pinched the bridge of his nose, then went back to scanning the crowd for Jeno, Mark or even Ten, whoever might come to his rescue.

Hyuck looked at him porting a smug expressión. ‘’What about it? We are the Founders. And it’s not like you don’t enjoy the benefits, my lovely and cute Junnie.’’

‘’I didn't say that. I just implied you're annoying.’’ 

Before Renjun gives him the third push of the day, a figure joins them resting his hands on his shoulders from behind as a greeting. Jeno's head peeks between them and he frowns at Donghyuck. 

''Are you already bothering Renjun this early,'' he asks and then turns at Renjun maintaining the same expression, ''and you shouldn't you be more patient as a future lawyer?''

''Jeno, are you on vice president duties already?'' A new voice jokes and everyone turns to Chenle, who appears making his way through the crowd. Used to the dynamics of his fraternity brothers, he is not surprised by the scene he encounters.

‘’Seems like it, yeah,’’ the handsome man says, ‘’since Jaemin is MIA.’’

Renjun frowns, pulling out his cell phone and checks the group chat, though there are no new messages. He hasn't seen Jaemin since this morning, actually. ''Where is everyone else? The opening of the haunted house is starting.''

''Mark is helping hang the last of the decorations in the backyard with Jisung,'' Jeno reminds them as the music drops a little and the sorority entrance lights up where Rosé, the president, takes the microphone. She's not alone, as her vice president is with her besides a bunch of other girls, dressed as witches. ‘’They’re putting in the last pumpkins and then they'll join us. I hope they hurry tho, I don't want to wait in line to get in.’’

''And where’s our leader?'' Chenle asks as he adjusts his black glasses, checking his cell phone too, reading several messages from girls asking to join them in the haunted house and ignoring it. 

''Most likely stalking you-know-who,'' Renjun mutters with a sigh. He's not really listening to Rosé welcoming and talking about traditions, culture and witches, but his suspicions are confirmed when his gaze falls on you. ''Ah, yes, we definitely won't see him until later, much later.''

Donghyuck, Chenle and Jeno follow Renjun's line of sight, three more pairs of eyes landing on you, recognizing and examining you from afar in your cute witch outfit, hat and all. Even though the frat boys know you're banned by Jaemin's order, that doesn't mean they can't look at you, right? And tonight you look especially good, with your little black dress and those cute, innocent eyes looking especially bored too, making Renjun chuckle. You're so bad at pretending you want to be there.

''She looks so beautiful,'' Donghyuck laments, staring at your body as he has done so many other times and studying the way your striped stockings reach up to your thighs as an idea crosses his mind. ''Do you think Jaemin would share?''

Jeno snorts with a laugh. ''Fuck no,'' is quick to respond taking his eyes off of you for a second to raise an eyebrow in the direction of the major in Finance as he shakes his head. ''Definitely not with you, no.''

''You pulled the shortest stick out of all of us, Hyuck,'' Renjun comments with a satisfied smile watching his friend's face fall from his refusals and decides to give him a final stab. ‘’Maybe Jeno,'' he adds thoughtfully.

The named one neither denies nor affirms, maintaining a secret smile that makes Hyuck sulk more and mutter things like I'm gonna put my stick in your—

''Don't be like that just because Jaemin has a girlfriend and you don’t,'' Renjun scolds him, having fun at the expense of Lee Donghyuck's tantrum.

Chenle shrugs and while he had to admit you were gorgeous, there were more girls like that on campus at the disposal of any of them at all the parties they threw, eager to get not only an NCT brother but maybe a Founder. ''What's so special about her anyway?'' He asks aloud his thoughts.

He doesn't like you, actually. It’s not that you did something to him on purpose, he just doesn't click with you the few times you two shared a space, like going to the kitchen at a party and bumping into Chenle spilling his drink or the times he let you in at the frat and you stepped in his foot accidentally. 

''You should ask Jaemin, he's been obsessed with her for months,'' Jeno replies, thinking about how many times his best friend had chased you around campus, parties and even sneaking into some of your classes since the first time he saw you. He knew his friend could be quite intense, so it didn't surprise him that he acted that way when something - or someone - got into his head.

‘’That’s what good pussy does to you,’’ Donghyuck offers simply, as if it were obvious.

''We don't really know her, she's an outsider,'' Chenle continues, looking at you through his dark glasses with a sense of distrust that has him frowning. ''I don't get it.''

Renjun and Jeno shared a look, knowing that Chenle was one of the firmest believers about the family traditions they shared and that if things were to get more serious - as it seemed - with a girl outside their circle he was going to be the talk of not only the campus, but the entire town. And their families.

Neither of them said more on the subject, but they had to admit that Chenle was right. The girl who had stolen Jaemin was a newcomer with no legacy or social presence in the town or university. And that would be a problem, sooner or later.

You sighed as you reluctantly put on your black pointy hat, joining Yuna and Jia, who were wearing witch outfits similar to yours. A small crowd was gathering in your sorority area for the opening of the annual Witch Haunted Hunt, their activities to participate in the town's Halloween schedule. This year they were going to have a haunted house and sisters like you had been decorating the days before. 

''I can't believe I'm doing this,'' you mumbled so the president, Rosé, wouldn't hear, even if she was busy talking into the microphone. That girl had sensors all over her body to identify pledges and sisters complaining. ''I feel like a idiot.'' 

''Hey! You said you weren't going to complain anymore,'' Jia reminded you in a hushed whisper, giving you a little nudge to shut you up while she had her attention on Rosé. ''Sshhhhh!’’

You moved your body a little to avoid her elbow as you continued to speak between clenched teeth. ''That was before they made us witches. It's like being an Elf on Christmas,  but instead some kid is going to see me on the street and egg me on, I just know it,'' you sighed, pressing your lips together.

''What?'' Yuna asked in confusion, side-eyeing you from your right side. ''What are you talking about?’’

''Well... we're in a town that hates witches and the kids have grown up with that propaganda. It's only a matter of time before some of them put together an army and decide to do justice and put it on TikTok,’’ you explained.

''Being a witch is quite an honor in our sorority! We are the protagonists,'' Jia muttered trying to keep her face composed and not laugh. ''It's an ancient tradition and should be respected. Shush, babe!''

‘’Shush the non-believer!’’ Yuna whispered into your ear, laughing and pinching your ass making you jump and yelp, turning and staring at her accusingly, frowning when another sister shushed the both of you.

The town where you lived was nationally known as a major site of recorded witch trials and killings over three hundred years ago. Generations and generations had spent growing up with that scar on the town's history and over time they began to use the town's folklore as a tourist attraction. 

You didn't know how intense it was until you moved in as a teenager a few years ago with your mother, it was like the town turned upside down when October came around. The short time you had spent there you had heard everything from legends to scare children and rumors about ghosts lurking from the witches that burned in the woods, to beliefs that the town had been cursed by said witches and you had been surprised to learn that some of those stories not only scared adults but that they believed it.

And you also witnessed how the descendants of the founders still controlled the place. 

Owners of buildings, stores, the hospital, even politicians, the descendants of the wealthy and exclusive original founder’s families were considered royalty with a legacy that stretched through all the branches of their family tree and were still as powerful as... Well, ever. And they were the ones who for decades had been powering the Season of the Witch during the month of Halloween, filling the town with tourists, attractions and a lot of town spirit and effort to entertain their visitors. Although it had become a more commercial thing that attracted many tourists, that did not mean that the people who lived there were not in fact superstitious, because they were. Which never ceased to amaze you to this day.

You could have sworn there was satisfaction in some eyes when you once watched as they reenacted the trials with volunteer actors in the central square and the witch was sent to the stake while the high school choir and band musicalized the bizarre scene.

''You people and your obsession with witches, I swear,'' you groaned in exhaustion. Having been chosen as part of the sorority group of witches, your schedule was full of activities, like posing at the haunted house opening, selling tickets for that, making sure no one trashed the decorations around the building and keeping an eye on the festivities in general while looking cute. You were like a car model but make it witchy. And kinda objectifying.

''Maybe that's the reason why Jaemin won't stop staring at you,'' Yuna said quietly, trying to dissimulate the conversation the three of you were sharing. When you heard her you turned your attention back to the audience and it only took you a few seconds to scan it until you found his piercing stare fixed on you. When their eyes met he smiled at you slowly, showing all of his perfectly sharp teeth. ''He seems obsessed with a certain little witch.''

Na Jaemin was the golden boy of the town and one of the descendants of the founders. He came from generations and generations of politicians and his father was currently the beloved town mayor, occupying the office until his son was ready to take his place in a few years and carry on the tradition as his ancestors had done before. No one challenged the Na's monopoly of power at elections simply because no one else was running for it. Nobody dared. They just let them win over and over again.

That was the way things were and the way it worked there. Jaemin happily participated in all the town's activities with a smile and a face that made everyone sigh with love. There was no one who could resist his charm and personality. Were there any homeless dogs? He would organize a responsible adoption day. An elderly neighbor needed help with his yard? No problem, he would mow the lawn himself without breaking a sweat and campaign for other neighbors to join in taking care of the senior's yard. 

You heard thousands of rumors about him from girl's gossip too. He had a fame since highschool of a brutal fuckboy with a big cock who will destroy pretty girls and that image just grew more intensely when Jaemin matured more and became a man. Did you need tutoring? He would offer, of course, and then politely say goodbye after fucking you against a corner of the library. 

Well, in fact all that side of his reputation was over since the day both had officially met. 

Actually, you knew who Jaemin was because he was graduating when you entered high school for your last two years and he had a fan club that lived and talked about him in class composed of your classmates, depressed that they could no longer see him every day in the hallways, the cafeteria or at play field making the team win. He was a celebrity at school along with his friends. You had seen him a couple of times in the hallways and noticed his heavy gaze on you on many occasions, but you didn't expect any movement from Jaemin. At all. After all, you were an inexperienced kid compared to the popular, pretty cheerleaders girls he fucked- you didn't think he had that type on interest in you. Maybe he was looking at you because you were the new girl and that's it. You had paid more attention to other things, like studying and making friends - Yuna and Jia occupying that last position.

Jaemin had a whole group of friends who were known to be from founding families who settled the colony that grew into a town and hence the origin of the nickname people gave them, the Founders. They were the heirs, part of such an intimate circle that it was impossible to enter or leave. Obviously everyone wanted to interact with them, be their friend, cheer them on at their games, girls threw themselves at their feet- anyone wanted a piece of them. Invitations to parties, free booze and drugs- you name it, it was given to them. Shit, even the candy store downtown would give them a free bag every now and then.

They moved their reign from high school to college smoothly and effortlessly, and Jaemin had been handed the throne on a silver platter - the presidency of the NCT frat - thanks to Taeyong, who was graduating with honors and an incredible future thanks to the scholarship Jaemin's dad had given him.

To the neighbors he was a kind and charismatic guy, but you saw his other face, more intense but real, relaxed. Especially in those moments when he managed to capture you when you least expected it (or in fact you did, and hope for it), just like now- taken to an empty classroom where no one would interrupt. When both of you were together it was as if you could see him and not Na Jaemin, the leader of the Founders.

And the rumors turned out to be true. He fucked like a demon. 

Jaemin smiles at you with hungry, dark eyes after closing the door behind him. ‘’Aren't you the prettiest thing?‘’ He said after sliding each of his hands on your waist and sitting you on the desk. He lifts some fingers and gently tugs the front of your hat until it falls in your field of vision. "Baby, I think you just bewitched me."

‘’Stooop,’’ you whined with a laugh, tapping on his hands away but not really, ’’you’re gonna mess up my hat and then Rosé it’s gonna scold me.’’

‘’Awwww, baby,’’ he cooed at you in a fake sweet tone, even pouting and ignoring how you try to get away from him. Instead, he cages you against the desk with his body with one firm push, both hands grabbing your thighs and squeezing them. ’’Don’t tell me you’re afraid of little dumb Rosé, don’t you? I’ll protect you,’’ he mocked you, parting your legs and positioning himself between.

Your relationship with Jaemin went from strangers who looked at each other in highschool curiously to insane rabbits fucking everytime they could. Jaemin didn't waste any time when you stepped foot on campus for your first year, giving you a invitiatión to your first frat party. The crazy, popular ones everyone knew were filled with descontrol and fun at the Neo Chi Theta frat. You were doubtful at first, not really trusting him and his friends- but your friends saw it as a golden ticket for you and them. But actually it took a whole more year for Jaemin chasing after you until you were his.

‘’Jaemin, I don’t think even you stand a chance against my stressed sorority president,’’ you pointed and the brown haired man laughs huskily in your neck as he starts kissing it and biting- your body reacting at the feel of his mouth on you. ’’Not to mention Jia and Yuna will join too, they think this costume is sacred or something.’’

And oh boy, how stressed Rosé was. The disastrous day started early, first with the weather- it rained a little bit out of nowhere and your sorority sisters runned around the whole place protecting the Halloween decorations. Then, the electricity went out- some light fuses or something exploiting in the basement. So Rosé became more hysterical, because that meant that there was no sound system: so no sound effects, no music and no microphone to use. 

Luckingly for the entire sorority and Rosé state of mind, things became better: the power came back, the fusibles were replaced and everything went smoothly from there. But it was kinda strange, not happening ever before according to the maintenance staff who couldn't find an explanation of how it happened: the fusibles were brand new, just changed a few weeks ago.

‘’It is, it’s part of a large tradition,’’ he said while his big hands now grabs your tits so possesively with a grunt, his distractions are working-, ’’we take things seriously here, you still don’t understand that? I’ll show you.’’

You yelped for the second time of the day when you felt a tug in your dress followed by a sharp sound of fabric being ripped. You stared in incredulity at Jaemin while he rips your tiny dress from the neckline, liberating your breasts with a pleased, masculine groan. His long hands cupped your tits, holding them while his tongue slowly circles your nipples, hardening them before sucking them firmly, until they pop from his lips. In no time he’s having you moaning and tugging his hair while you rub against his cock, feeling it already hard in his pants. Jaemin makes a mess of saliva, slurping it and spitting again, giving you small bites and succions; marking the sensitive skin of your tits, knowing exactly how to make your pussy throb with desire. 

‘’Fuck, baby, so fucking pretty,’’ he mumbled against your breasts, biting one of your nipples harder than before, making you complain with a high-pitched whine. His hand moved down your body to in between your legs, feeling your wet pussy through your panties totally messed up by your arousal. ‘’Acting all responsible and shit, being a brat but letting me do anything to you like the slut you are.’’

Your breath hitched as your heart races, unable to control your body's responses that are trained by Jaemin to obey him. More moistness soaked your thighs and you squirmed into his body, rubbing yourself with not a care in the world as you get a friction to your needy clit.

‘’But don't worry, I'm going to fuck that attitude out of you,'' Jaemin promised with a devilish smirk that makes you feel a hot sensation that thrills your belly with anticipation. Jaemin pulled away and crouched down, shoving your damp panties aside so he can spread your folds apart with his digits. He swiped them up and down, watching them cover your wet, glistening, pussy. ''This pretty, little pussy is all mine,'' he leaned into your dripping cunt, dying to taste you. His tongue traveled in its slow way, scooping up your slick in long, soft but firm licks that make you moan and claw at the edges of the desk. “So fucking messy and desperate.”

Jaemin keeps both hands spreading apart and gripping your thighs close to your chest as he devours you like a famished man, tasting, licking and sucking your pussy in the most filthy way. He moaned into your center and shoved his face deep to your pussy, showering himself with your juices. His tongue circled over your clit and wrapped his lips around it, sucking it and causing your hips to grind against it, fucking his face.

‘’Jaemin, please, more,” you pleaded with a moan as he sucks harder, feeling your pussy clenching around nothing and getting more and more wet, your whole body burning with pleasure. You watched as Jaemin pulls away for a second, strands of saliva connect to your core, his lips, chin and nose looking glossy with your slick. He looked so fucking hot it almost hurts and as you stare at him you feel a wave of possessiveness making you even more horny... and wild. This man is mine, you thought in your cloudy mind. 

His tongue shoved into your entrance, fucking you with it and then making you moan gripping his hair as his nose bumped at your clit with every push of his face, causing you to see stars and keep moaning his name.

''Jaemin- fuck, don't stop,'' you cried out with another moan, feeling the pleasure flood your body, aching to close your legs around Jaemin's head but he maintains an iron grip on your thighs, leaving marks in the form of fingerprints. ''It feels so good, please,” you spluttered.

“Please what? Use your big girl words,” he said, his voice rough as he licked his lips, coated in your wetness and savoring you again. Jaemin started lapping at your cunt so he can catch a new rush of arousal with his tongue. You remained silent, just whimpering and mumbling nonsense. “Are you so fucked up already that you can't even speak, dumb slut?

He spanked one of your thighs and returned to eating your pussy, swirling his tongue around your clit in circular motions and then sucking on it until you scream his name. His words are true, you were drifting as your mind goes into black, slipping into that headspace where you don't think, you only feel. Jaemin is set to make you scream, thrusting two long fingers inside you up to his knuckles, stroking your velvet walls as he slowly pushes them in first, in and out. They reach so deep, Jaemin finding that spot that makes you squeal and lift your hips, trying to fuck his fingers. 

He curved them in and keep stroking that sweet spot, your body tingling with pleasure, facing the ceiling in blankness, a rush of heat building up in your core.

''Fuck, right there,'' you gasped, blushing a little as you notice the wet, loud sounds your pussy make as Jaemin drives his fingers in hard and quick, ''Nana, fuck-  I'm gonna cum-’' 

''Cum,'' Jaemin ordered, mouth pressed against your clit, still sucking and licking around it, ''cum on my fingers like a good slut for me.'' He continued to relentlessly fingering you, inhaling and exhaling your scent as he feels you tighten around his fingers. ''Pussy so tight and greedy, wanted to be stuffed and used.’’

You screamed his name and hold on to the desk with all your strength as you feel the orgasm overtake you, leaving you so breathless and so fucking satisfied as Jaemin holds you down, preventing your hips from rising again. Your legs trembled and you whimpered as you realized Jaemin hasn't stopped his fingers. 

‘'One more,’' he said as he slided his fingers into your dilated hole, curling them in and making you moan. Jaemin smiled against your lips, kissing you again and drowning out your sounds of protests.

''Jaemin-'', you started to beg again, but he shushed you, by kissing you and raising on top of you, covering you with his body, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Still a brat, huh?” His free hand covers your under belly and applies pressure, in a way that feels so fucking good.  “Be a good girl and cum for me again, pretty slut.”

You felt the intense pleasure returning to flood you as his fingers do not stop. You moaned as you felt another climax rising, the overstimulation too much, squeezing around Jaemin's fingers as your hand finds one of his wrists and you hold on to it. Your eyes welled up with tears as you hided your face in the crook of Jaemin's neck, sensing your body so overwhelmed by so much delight and a little pain... that you snap.

‘’Fuck yeah, that's it,” Jaemin praised you as you cummed all over, squirting with a choked moan that sends you limp on the desk, ‘‘cumming like a good slut, making a fucking mess,’’ he smiled proudly, noticing how your legs are shaking and your breath is hitching.

Jaemin let you catch your breath as he sucked his fingers, not getting enough of your taste. His mouth covered your lips, this time kissing you slowly, adoringly, more tenderly, making your insides curl but this time with a different sensation. His hands caresses your legs, your sides and even your tits gently, bringing a smile to your face. Typical Jaemin, tearing you apart and then treating you like precious crystal.

He steped back, using what's left of the fabric of your shredded dress to wipe the rest of your cum from your thighs and pussy, your heart fluttering from his affection. Jaemin helped you into a sitting position, kissing you gently again and stroked your cheeks, observing the state of you that he has made. Your makeup was a mess, long smudges of your mascara, lips swollen from his kisses and marks covering your neck and chest, looking all fucked. So fucking cute, he thinks. Jaemins chuckled, when he noticed your long forgotten witch's hat lying on the floor.

‘’Are you okay, baby?” He asked before removing his hoodie and pulling on your naked figure, which suits you large and covering just above your thighs. You nodded with a hum, exhausted and happy after two orgasms. ''You've done so well for me, my pretty little witch.’’

''Please don't remind me,'' you sighed, thinking of the heart attack Rosé would have if she could see you like this. You cuddled Jaemin, searching for his neck with your cheek and rubbing yourself on it, your hand slowly cupped his erection in his pants, but then a big, sudden sound startled you both and makes you stop in your tracks... fireworks?

A few moments later the classroom door opened and you both saw Renjun storming in, his usually relaxed face looked a little frenetic. “We need to leave right fucking now, Jaemin,” he said, preferring to ignore the smell of sex: he's was too used to you fucking all over the place, and he had more important matters anyway.

‘'What's the matter? Renjun, what's wrong?'' The frat president asksed, motioning his body in a way that shielded you from his friend's view with alarm taking over his voice.

''Everything! The power at the frat house went out and the Jack-o'-lanters that Mark and Jisung put up exploded all over the place, all the way to the ceiling! They had to call the fucking fire department,'' Renjuns explained looking at his blowing up phone with the text messages coming. ''Ten and Johnny are downtown, apparently the city's Halloween sign blew up too or I don't know, but it caught on fire too and so did the decorations-''

''Fuck. Are they okay?’’ He asked and Renjun noded, looking unusually shaken. ‘’Okay, calm down,'' Jaemin tried to soothe his friend, then looked at you a bit confused and worried, ''what was that sound we heard earlier then? It's too far away from NCT here.'' 

Jaemin took out his muted phone, seeing so many messages from his brothers and his father too, calling him- fucking furious his precious and expensive sign is wrecked. Mark was on his texts, telling him that the fire department has extinguished the small fire on the roof, not major damage but Jisung was a bit freaked out. 

“I don't know what the fuck happened, maybe something electrical,” Renjuns sighed, and continued to explain, “but something blew up in the sorority's haunted house and the power is out too.”

You hearded heavy, rushed footsteps down the hallway and a new figure entered the classroom to your utter fucking embarrassment, but at least it's not university staff, but Zhong Chenle with a mad look on his face and black glasses pushed up onto his head.

“Jaemin, someone set the witch dummy on fire!” He yelled.

One of the oldest traditions of the Neo Chi Theta frat was their kick-off Halloween celebrations, in which they would go into the woods on the first weekend of October, light a fire and burn a giant dummy, several feet tall and tie it to a giant stake dressed as a witch. It was a tradition that dated back a couple of generations, to the great-great-grandparents of the current Founders. Started by Jaemin's great-great-grandfather, in fact. 

The witch's dummy would burn all night while the DJ played music and people partied.

But apparently this year's dummy had been set on fire before its time while still locked in storage and no one knew how that happened, however Chenle and Donghyuck suspected that perhaps it was the prank of someone who had a death wish. The confection of the stupid witch dummy had been in the works for weeks, so Doyoung had to order a new one and the party had obviously been delayed at least one more week, so he paid more to get it ready sooner. And even though it had been a number of days, the NCT residents were still furious.

''I don't understand what's going on, but things are going all wrong,'' Yuna sighed, examining you, who were sitting on the bed sewing up a part of her skirt that had been holed after catching on a nail sticking out of the door.

''Don't be silly, I'm about to finish and it's barely noticeable,'' you murmured, running the needle quickly through the shiny fabric, ''we'll make it to the party on time, you'll see,'' you comment in concentration.

''I don't think she's talking about her skirt, babe,'' Jia joined the conversation, finishing applying her makeup in front of the mirror and looking at you both through it. ''Rosé is furious, the whole opening was ruined. Good thing the guys were able to work out the dummy witch thing for tonight.''

''And the NCT house! Can you imagine if it had burned down? That's so scary,'' Yuna continued, getting up from her spot and scooting over to sit next to you. She rests her head on your shoulder, watching you continue sewing with a pout. ''Thank goodness no one got hurt.''

''Mmmm,'' you murmured not really listening and startle when your friend pokes your side playfully with a frown, wanting your attention. ''Ow! What was that for?'', you asked and examine your finger, which you pricked with the sewing needle. 

''I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! Let me see,'' she gasped your name regretfully, taking your hand and inspecting your finger carefully, feeling guilty. ''There's no bleeding,'' Yuna murmured, a little surprised after a few seconds of checking it. 

‘’It didn't go that deep, don’t worry’’ you assured her, taking your finger into your mouth and sucking the tip anyways while giving back Yuna her skirt. ‘’I already finished, anyways.’’

She smiles at you and kisses your cheek, quickly putting her skirt back on. ‘’You're the best, thank you! Now... Do you think Chenle will like this outfit?” she asked, posing and pointing her ass at you.

You spanked her, making her squeal and you both let out a giggle, catching Jia's attention. ''I don't think Chenle likes anything but basketball,'' you blurted, leaning back on the bed, ''you should go for someone else. Maybe someone who isn't the personification of a sour candy.''

''Ohhhh, so you admit there's some sweetness in him,'' Yuna joked, winking at you and you faked a gag, rolling your eyes. ‘’Stop doing that! He's cute,'' she insisted, and even Jia looked at her in amusement. ‘’He is! Okay, you should be nice to him anyway, you know? He's Jaemin's friend and-’’

''One of the Founders, yeah, yeah, I know,'' you sighed, ''and he's important and you'll marry him someday,'' you continued, reciting the words Yuna convinced you two to memorize in support of manifesting for her. She nodded and Jia snorted, thinking her delusional friend is cute.

The party and dummy burn was tonight, so you were getting ready with your two friends in Jia's room. It was also the first time you were going, not joining things like this since you moved to the town,  like any witches and trials bullshit. But this time Jaemin invited you and you couldn't say no to him- besides, you haven't seen him daily this week, like you've gotten accustomed to since you first met him. He was busy with frat stuff like the dummy and the exploding decorations in the house- Renjun thinking that somehow someone must have set off a firecracker as a stupid Halloween prank, and also with family matters like the reopening of a new Witch Season sign in town. That didn't mean you two didn't talk, actually facetiming and calling each other but it obviously wasn't the same. And you missed him a lot.

''Speaking of founders, I think I'll fuck Jeno tonight,'' Jia said thoughtfully as the three of you reached the woods, cars everywhere and groups of what you assumed were students yelling and cheering, some of them clearly already drunken.

''Okay,'' you started a little confused, guarding your steps even though there are pumpkin-shaped garlands of orange lights guiding the way, ''don't you do that every day? Like... you let him sleep in your room when NCT's roof caught on fire a few days ago.’’

''Yeah, but I haven't since then. I want to drive him crazy, you know? He still has not asked me out and we've been fucking for months,'' she sighed, but there is determination in his eyes when he looks at you. ''I want a relationship like yours, I want a Founder too, can you imagine? The three of us having a Founder. Everyone would envy us,'' Jia saids, and Yuna giggled and agreed. 

You smiled and hope none of your friends can tell it's fake. Comments like that started to become habitual weeks ago and it makes you uncomfortable, especially when you sometimes feel your friends' jealous eyes on you and Jaemin when the two of you are together. When Jia and Yuna saw Jaemin's interest in you, they urged you towards him at every opportunity, helping him. At first you thought they were just being good friends, trying to help you pick up a hot guy. But deep down you knew they saw you as the key to a social circle: the Founders' circle. When things with Jaemin got more serious, each of them set their sights on a specific Founder, which turned out to be Jeno and Chenle. 

Jeno and Chenle were of course interested, because Jia and Yuna were gorgeous, with nice bodies and amazing smiles, just two cute girls who could have whoever they wanted. But none of them acted like Jaemin had acted and instead they kept playing their own way, having girl after girl and partying and being the residents fuckboys of NCT. No settling down for now, but you know and your friends too know that at some point in the future they had to marry a good and worthy town girl. What better plan than to work towards that position now? 

Your thoughts were broken when the three of you finally arrived and the first thing you spotted was the biggest fucking dummy ever seen. Almost like the old trees in the forest, a huge figure covered in a big dress and witch's hat, stuffed with dried leaves and straw so it could burn faster. It was not yet ignited, but you could see from afar the standing bodies of Doyoung and Jisung preparing it, pouring gasoline at its feet. 

Yuna dragged you and Jia towards the movable bar where Donghyuck and Jeno are already drinking, screaming. “Let's get drunk!’’

You couldn't stop yourself to watch the dummy witch from time to time, thinking it looked kinda strange. This whole party felt like that, and you understand that it's a tradition but the meaning behind it is... problematic. The witches the town burned where innocent women persecuted for dumb reasons. And now people burned a giant dummy of one of them with a live DJ.

You losted your friends a while ago, Jia leaving with Jeno to God knows where and Yuna chasing Chenle who is more busy talking about the match they won last month with Jungwoo, another Neo Chi Theta brother. So you stayed quietly drinking for a while, checking your phone for a text from Jaemin. He had told you a little while ago that he was coming, but you hadn't seen him yet. Out of nowhere you felt a pair of hands come from behind and clutch your waist, causing you to jump. Jaemin chuckles behind you and draws you into his body, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your neck as he coos at you.

''What's got you so jumpy, mmh?''

''Nothing, you just scared me,'' you said as you turned around, bringing your arms to his neck and inspecting how he combed his hair, clearing his forehead. He looked so handsome to you, feeling the familiarity of his presence complete you. ''You look so handsome, Nana.''

He looked at you and grinned, that big tooth-filled grin that makes him look a little wild, but unbelievably cute. That's what his vibes were like. 

''I've missed you so much, baby,'' he murmured, not wasting any more time, and kisses you. His hands traveled up and down your frame, ruffling your skirts with his hands. You felt the heat radiating from his body and you feel better than earlier, knowing he was with you, desiring nothing more than to climb him like a tree and devour him. ''Fuck, I'm going to have my time with you tonight, angel.''

''Hey you two lovebirds!'' Donghyuck's loud voice suddenly cuted in and he grabs Jaemin and pulls him away from you. ''We need our leader to start the fire, but don't worry, pretty girl,'' he says, smirking flirty at you, ‘’I’m gonna keep you compa- ow!’’

Donghyuck holded the spot where Jaemin punched him and stared at him, while Jaemin does the same to Hyuck until he throwed up his hands in surrender. You can't deny that you don't love seeing Jaemin like this, acting as the dominating leader and driving Hyuck away. Once you and Jaemin are back alone, he gived you another kiss and fiddled with a strand of your hair by wrapping it around his finger, tugging lightly to get your attention.

“Wait for me, okay? Don't you leave with nobody, I'm going to light the fucking dummy and come back quick,'' Jaemin saids using his ridiculous baby voice, causing you to giggle and roll your eyes giving him a soft shove.

''Yeah, go set that horrible thing on fire already,'' giving him another nudge as he pulled your strand of hair playfully, kissing you once again before leaving. 

He smiled at you and turns away, moving through the crowd. Some people waving at him and several girls staring at him with interest. You'd felt jealous but you know Jaemin is yours and he's proved it, but you can't help thinking about them stopping their stares. You went to the bar again and Kun, the frats house bartender, poured you the special punch he prepared, a dark red drink with a fruity flavor and definitely a lot of vodka.

You were torn between ignore the dummy about to be burned or not, part of you wanted to see Jaemin in all his glory and power, and part of you wanted to not partake in this silly event. You saw part of the flickering garland of lights in the bar, drawing Kun's attention as well, but just at that moment your eyes are elsewhere as Yuna leaned on the bar with an annoyed expression.

“You were right. Chenle is a stupid ugly candy,'' she mumbled, and you followed her gaze fixed on the boy's form. He was still talking to Jungwoo, but now some pretty girls have joined in, and you recognized some of the cheerleading squad. Chenle grabbed one of them by the waist.

Yikes.

''I don't think I'd quite say that,'' you commented as you take a sip of your drink and then hand it to Yuna, who picks it up and chugs it all in one shot. You know your friend very well, so you already know how the storm that was brewing in her eyes would eventually end. Probably with lighting and rain. And some cheerleader being threatened. You weren't really sure Chenle could handle a storm like that, but you sure as hell didn't want to see that. Yikes again. “You know what? I think I have to go to the bathroom-''

''Wait, no! They're setting the dummy on fire! Look, there's Jaemin,'' she exclaimed, shifting her attitude and tugging you along with her. You see him, holding up a lit up torch and creepily everyone falls silent, almost as if they're holding their breath. ''He looks so good,'' she sighed dreamily. She doesn't seem to have noticed that she said it out loud, brushing herself off right away. 

Even though the DJ stops the music, Yangyang is still with his headphones on and filming everything with his phone. All eyes turned to Jaemin, who was showing a serious face, escorted not far away by the other founding members. Doyoung, Mark, Johnny, Jeno, Renjun and even Chenle, who seems to have made it in time, all watch silently as their leader throwed down the torch and set the giant witch dummy on fire.

The dummy bursted into fire and the blaze consumes it so quickly that it rises up to the dummy's hat fast. The crowd erupted into a craziness as the music returns, creating an explosion of energy and cheering, everyone jumping up and down and singing the song that Yangyang remixes. You leaved without a word, feeling uneasy and a little pissed off at Yuna's words from earlier. You maked your way through the crowd to leave the center of the party. It was too much. You needed another drink, you think, drumming your fingers on the bar as Kun fixes you the same punch as before, but now in the dark after one of the garland lights burned out. Luckily they had a spare, which Jisung was setting up. 

You saw Jia coming your way, looking a little drunk and her makeup not as perfect as when you saw her earlier. "Babe, I've been lookin' for you! We're having a private bonfire, are you coming?''

''This isn't the bonfire?'' You asked a little confused, signaling the burning dummy with your head.

''Yes, but the Founders are having a private one, Johnny brought good wine and Donghyuck has some blunts. We're gonna smoke and tell scary stories!''

''I don't know, Jaemin told me to wait for-'' you started but Jia doesn't listen to you, tangles his arm with yours and drags you, ''Jia!’’

''Relax babe, Jaemin is already there with the others,'' she assured you, and smiles at you.

You wrinkled your nose at your boyfriend when you reached him and see he's sitting on the ground near the small campfire, impatiently looking at you. 

''See, your girlfriend is here,” Renjun said to him and Jaemin flashes his middle finger at him. The handsome leader hugs your legs once you're close to him and he pouted at you, his hands now caressing the back of your knees. ''I told you Jia was bringing her.''

''I'm sorry, angel. They pulled me in and wouldn't let me go, saying I'd get lost.''

''Aren't you like the leader or something?'' you said sarcastically, sitting on his lap. You hear a chorus of ''ohhhhhhhh!'' and laughter. Jaemin just smirks, removes his jacket and covers you with it, kissing your neck and wrapping his arms around you. You knew you're going to paid for that challenge later, and you hoped so. You loved it when he punished your brattiness. 

You heard your name being called and you realize it’s Donghyuck, who’s lighting up a blunt and taking a hit of it. ‘’So, I know the perfect story for tonight. Tell me, you don’t know much about our town history, right?’’

You shaked your head and shrugged, ‘’I don’t, not really. Well, just the dumb witch stuff and all that.’’

“So you don't know the full story? Like, everything that happened,'' Marks asked as he helped Johnny pull some bottles of wine out of a box, ''the entire timeline and the crazy stuff.’’

''What's there to know, really? People went crazy with mass hysteria and religious paranoia. They took innocent women and burned them at the stake,'' you remarked feeling a little shy afterwards as you notice the silence that forms but speaking your mind- but you can't help being honest. Jaemin rubbed your thigh, reassuring you, and you relaxed against his chest.

''Yeah, but,'' Renjuns joined in, taking the joint Hyuck offers him, ''they weren't innocent, they actually cursed the town. Everyone knows it started when Sarah, the middle witch, had her poor, evil heart broken.''

''What do you mean?'' You frownew. 

''Hyung, tell the story from the very beginning!'' Chenle told him excitedly, lighting a joint on his own and passing it to Jisung after blowing out the smoke.

‘’Yeah, hyung,’’ Jisung said, getting comfortable on the ground and sipping from Mark’s wine bottle. ‘’You always tell it so good.’’

Donghyuck smiled from the praises and waited until the rest find their places around the bonfire; Jia with Jeno, Johnny and Doyoung sitting next to each other and sharing a bottle of wine and Mark and Renjun on some old, falling tree serving as a chair.

‘’It all started when the mother of the seven girls died,‘’ Hyucks beggined to narrate. ‘’They lived in peace with other people, they were nice and all. The seven sisters were known in town for their beauty, but the middle one, Sarah, was on another level. Soft skin and shiny hair, eyes full of innocence,’’ he paused, eyes moving toward Jaemin. ‘’Of course it caught the attention of the widowed Mayor.’’ 

You sensed Jaemin tensing behind you, fingers tightening painfully against your belly and you caressed his hand, wanting to relax like he did before to you. It was a little weird knowing that a direct descent of that Mayor was cuddling you in his arms.

‘’His wife died one cold winter, so young just like him, so every girl in town wanted to take her place. Whorever, they didn’t stand a chance,’’ Hyuck said gloomily, ‘’he was bewitched with Sarah. That’s when everything started going to shit.’’

Everyone listened to him thoughtfully, you noticed, as the sounds of the party happening not far along fill the forest but are ignored by the Founders. They kept smoking and drinking, except for you, actually interested in listening to the whole story. Maybe it was the way Donghyuck was using his smooth, velvety voice, but it was alluring you nonetheless. 

‘’First, the fresh milk went sour, but that could happen, right? It was the old times after all. But then, some women started getting sick and weak, worrying the entire town. The unmarried ones started losing hair and having nightmares, so they turned to their scared mothers and told them what was causing it: the seven sisters. They saw them looking wickedly at them one afternoon after service, smiling like angels while cursing the poor girls like demons.’’ 

‘’That’s so ridiculous’’, you laughed, interrupting him and shaking your head. ‘’They were clearly having an intense fólie a deux, and sure most of them even faking it.’’

Donghyuck and the rest ignored your comment except for Jaemin, who you felt smile against your nape. Chenle, on the other hand, hushed you, signaling the teller to continue. He did, taking a sip of the wine Doyoung passed him. 

''So the men assembled one night and went to investigate. They went to the seven sisters' house, but it was deserted. Their things were all inside, so the men knew they must be somewhere else. But they weren't working on the small farm next to the house either, so they searched the woods. And that's where they found the witches,” he stopped again for a second, building suspense, ”they were dancing naked, singing in an unknown language and having a small bonfire in honor of the Devil. The smoke was red and they were laughing maniacally, some of them were even floating in the air, terrifying the group of men.''

''Then the town council held a meeting. They were sick of the witches and their spells, who were trying to bring ruin to the good people,'' Renjun interrupted knowing the story by heart and Hyucks whined at him, irritated by his intromision.

''The council?'' You asked and Jia muttered your name looking at you like you're dumb.

''The original founders, our past families,'' Doyoung explained as he opened another bottle of wine, ''commanded by their Reverend, of course.''

Mark remained silent, and you understan his lack of comment because there's gossip you heard after you arrived in town and Jia explained to you who was who. Apparently, well no, actually, Mark was a direct descendant of the first reverend, but he came from a bastard son. Obviously his ancestor had sacred vows and couldn't marry, but it didn't surprise you that he had sex. All men were hypocrites, especially in those days. However, he and his family were considered a Founder anyways.

''So they settled that it was time for a trial. The mayor at the time advocated for the sister's innocence and asked for fairness, so the reverend reassured him that they would do so, they knew how to determine if the girls were witches or not. But little did they know that the girls planned to escape after seeing how the town treated them, even beating one of them one afternoon here in the middle of the town's central square. Imagine how disappointed the mayor was with Sarah, his precious lover was a damned liar trying to run away,” the narrator shaked his head, ‘’but thankfully they were caught red-handed and the Mayor himself put Sarah in the dungeon,‘’ Hyuck proudly continued. 

You saw something moving in the corner of your eye catching your attention and turning your head to see better, but there’s nothing more than darkness in the forest. Someone was sneaking up with a girl, maybe? You swear you heard crunching leaves or maybe a branch. You curled more into Jaemins body who mistaked the movement for cold or fright, giving you a worried look as he hugged you more tightly. 

''So the trials began. They did tests for the sisters, information coming from high ranks of the Church that guided the reverend in the art of finding a witch,'' Hyuck stared at you and held his eyes on you while he told the next part. ''Witches don't bleed, so they poked their fingers with sharp needles to prove it but their veins were dry. Witches have the mark of the devil on them, so they looked for that and found moles on the sister's skin, pitching them with hot iron sticks afterwards.''

You can’t help the sadness extending through your heart, listening to Donghyuck telling it in horror. It was a horrible story that was real, not some shit made up- these people existed. You feel sick to your stomach, a pinch of anxiety rising inexplicably.

‘’Witches have light bodies, to levitate and fly, so they took some sisters and judged that, pushing them off the highest cliff into the cold water to see if they could float or fly away in the wind. They sank and drowned, so the people who gathered to watch prayed for their souls. But that didn’t end there, some of them were still being interrogated. Witches can’t cry, so they were surprised when the remaining sisters cried while tortured. But… it could all been a trick, right?’’

The whole group is silenced by Donghyuck's mesmerizing voice as he talks and you just look at the fire while listening, imagining everything that went down with the seven sisters. You couldn't even try, tho. That kind of suffering is too much to handle. How scared they must be, seeing their sisters die one after another? Sustain all that pain?

Donghyuck took a pause to take a sip of the wine, continuing. ‘’After all, the whole town was cursed by them. Strange things started to happen in addition to the old testimonies. Blood started to appear in the medic’s house walls, and the shared office of the judge and the notary caught fire. And weird things kept happening, like hundreds of death flies appearing in the church and the banker having the windows in his house explode out of nowhere one day, pieces of glass cutting his face. The commissioner saw with his own eyes how his cows started giving blood instead of milk. So they all had enough. The only sister remaining was Sarah, so it must be her doing.’’

You felt Jaemin's body tensing, reacting to your own body stiffening. You couldn't help yourself, scared for the story, seeing how far these people were with their believings. He pushed his hand underneath your sweater, stroking your belly softly, covering with his whole palm making you shudder. 

‘’So they decided it was time for her to pay and put an end to all this,’’ Donghyuck stopped and took his time in watching everyone, raising his eyebrows and smiling, the fire of the campfire making his eyes shine, ‘’she was declared guilty and condemned with death by fire, just like in hell. That same night they set up a huge bonfire and tied Sarah to the stake. The whole town went, some spitting on her and some scared of the witch too, but curious.’’

Donghyuck winked at you. ‘’And guess who lit the fire, my pretty, unbelieving cutie,’’ he asked, making Jaemin groan in warning, and you keep silent. ‘’You guessed right. It was the Mayor.’’

A breeze of wind pickups then, making you shiver and winding up the campfire in front of you. The top of the trees moves, the sound of its branches moving even despite the distant music of the party. But nobody seems to care, as is normal in a forest. 

"To our founders!" Johnny cheered, raising his bottle of wine in a toast.

"You guys are way too comfortable feeling proud of having burned people," you huffed, settling into Jaemin's lap, feeling cold, "sorry if I find this fascination you have for baseless murders bizarre."

‘’Didn't you hear the story? They had proof, the whole town was fucking enchanted,’’ Chenle raised an eyebrow, shaking his head and taking another puff from his blunt.

Marks speaked then, looking kinda embarrassed. ‘’It's not a fascination, it's just—our ancestors did what they believed was best.’’

"Oh God, you don't really think those women were witches, do you?" You started to laugh, but you immediately stopped when you saw that no one is laughing with you. "You guys can't be serious."

"Well, but think about it a bit. Strange things were happening back then, it's written in the records, there are testimonies. Those women were accused for good reason, surely," Jia said, pushing herself closer to Jeno.

‘’Yeah? Like what? To have their dress better ironed? Or maybe they didn't make the butter salty enough for the founders' taste," you joked ironically, winning yourself some eye rolls and scoffs.

‘’Were you listening at all? They have motives, the witches were invoking the Devil and bringing dark shit to the town,’’ Johnny throwed you a unimpressed look. 

‘’You can believe whatever, but witches were real then,’’ Doyoung said, swirling his bottle of wine and shrugging. ‘’And probably are now, just hiding better.’’

Renjun stood up, stretching and taking another hit before heading towards the party, not without saying: "And nowadays, strange things are happening too, just like back then. "

Doyoung seemed thoughtful, considering it as he lowers his bottle. "Yes, you're right... too many strange accidents."

‘’You think a witch did it?’’ Jisung asked, looking very scared by that idea.

"Having electrical problems and an idiot running around blowing up pumpkins is not a rare accident," Jaemin denied, looking bored. He starts kissing your shoulder, more focused on touching you and warming you up than on the chills he feels running down your legs. He gave you a little nudge on your side indicating that you should get up, and you obed instantly, happy to leave that place once and for all. 

‘’But you can’t deny that witches exist, right, Jaem?’’ Johnny said, teasing him.

‘’If you guys have bloody walls and sick cows, you should call the university staff,’’ you teased the Founders, taking Jaemin's hand, who also gets up and stretches with a grunt when his back cracks. You start to walk away with him, letting yourself be guided by your boyfriend towards the party again. ‘’Or fund the witch police, I’m sure there’s a budget for that!’’

That same night much later, you were in Jaemin's bed, wearing one of his t-shirts while you both watch an old horror movie on TV together before going to sleep, it's almost dawn. Curled up against his side, you look at him from beneath your lashes, studying the curves of his face in silence without paying attention to the movie until Jaemin feels your gaze on him and looks at you, smiling as he notices your expression and affectionately caressing your waist.

"Can I help you, angel?"

"Yes," you admited immediately, moving on top of him to settle yourself on his lap. You cradled his face and kiss him, Jaemin's hands immediately grabbing your thighs and moving up to squeeze your butt with a sleepy grunt. "I want to ask you something," you murmured against his lips, licking yours.

"What is it?" Jaemin asked, tilting his head and playing with the edge of his shirt on you, lifting it slowly but you stop him before he distracts you with another session of sex.

You didn't know how to start, so you went straight to the point. "Nana... the story that Hyuck told, I was wondering," you paused, straighten up above him, "why do you think Sarah didn't take revenge on the Mayor like she did with the council members? Sorry, I know he's your ancestor and all, but I'm curious.’’

Jaemin studied you for a few seconds and then he smiled, slipping his hands under the shirt to caress your skin, sliding his palms over your ribs and the edge of your breasts. "What do you think? They loved each other. I stole his diary a few years ago from my father's library and read it myself. They loved each other so much. The Mayor wanted to marry her even before he was with his first wife, but Sarah came from a poor family and his family insisted. That happened before the village was established, I think.’’

‘’What happened to him? Obviously he got remarried, otherwise you wouldn't be here," you joked, brushing his hair back.

‘’He married one of the girls who had accused Sarah, but because he needed an heir. It wasn't a happy marriage, according to his diary and... he always regretted betraying her," Jaemin responded, looking thoughtful for a moment. He bringed his hands to your back and pulled you back towards him, kissing you softly on your lips. ‘’He continued writing about her and…,’’ the stoped, eyeing your lips.

"And...?" you asked with curiosity, urging Jaemin to continue after he stops. He closes his eyes for a few seconds and then opens them, his face illuminated by the faint light of dawn coming through the window, giving Jaemin a soft appearance.

"And he always had nightmares, until he died. About her. He saw her hurt, crying for him, and burning at the stake... he regretted everything he made her go through, he wished he had helped her escape or hide," Jaemin explained, sitting with you still holding you in his arms for a better reach to your mouth. He kissed you gently, hugging you by the waist. Then he added: ‘’He didn't believe she was bad, it was impossible. Sarah was the kindest woman he had ever known, according to him. He wrote about her until the day of his death, she is the last entry in the diary.’’

"But everyone sees him as a hero or something like that. He was the one who lit the fire," you murmured, unable to avoid thinking about how terrible it must have been for both of them... but especially for Sarah.

Jaemin sighed and pulled at the shirt you're wearing until he takes it off, and this time you let him. "But people don't know the diary exists, baby. Everyone believes the story they've heard, the version Hyuck told last night. The official version of the town.’’

"Why haven't you told them, Jaemin? You know the truth, that Sarah wasn't an evil witch," you said, frowning, letting Jaemin change positions, lying you down on the bed and positioning himself on top of you, parting your legs with a tender but firm touch.

"And who said I won't tell it soon?" 

The leader of the Founders smiled at you, and for a moment, you can do nothing but just look at him, feeling your heart soften and explode at the same time, feeling so in love that you forget how to breathe. You felt the electricity inside you like every time you're with Jaemin and sparks fly, vibrating with anticipation when his touch becomes intimate and sensual. Your body arched against his as you both kissed deeply, your breath quickening with each passing second, unable to control some moans that escape you when you feel him hard against your stomach. His slow kisses traveled to your neck, kissing and sucking as well, causing your body to fill with shivers.

"Jaemin, wait-," you stopped him, having one last question before continuing, holding his face so he looks at you. ‘’The last entry in the diary... What did he write?’’

Your favorite smile from Jaemin appeared on his lips, full of teeth and tempting lips, but filled with a pure sweetness he has reserved for you, sporting that expression of bright and mischievous eyes that drived you crazy. He comed near your mouth again and kissed you slowly, full of love.

"That he wished they could be together in their next life."

The days went on, and so did the little accidents, as the townspeople and tourists tried to enjoy the various activities of Season of the Witch. The highschool choir lost their voices and couldn't participate in the reenactment of the burning of the witch Sarah in the town center, and in the middle of the play, the judge's table broke, causing the poor actor to fall and making the audience laugh. The haunted house of your sorority had so many problems that they weren't selling many tickets, so Rosé simply decided to cancel it, giving up after the damn fuses burned out for the tenth time in the little time that had passed in the month.

Chenle was determined to catch the one who had blown up his pumpkins at home, convinced that it was the same person who had blown them up at the frat and who also had a new prank, breaking the witch figures that the neighbors hung in their yards. The basketball team captain was sure that the culprit was some university student who had dared to take their pranks further and make an enemy by puncturing all the balls in the team's storage until they were deflated. Chenle was so furious that he was going to break the culprit's teeth when he caught him, as he had sworn to Renjun when the team couldn't have a practice game that day.

Renjun's room had flooded, ruining his university books and papers, so he had to spend the days leading up to Halloween redoing them to study for his exams the following week. He was convinced that one of his fraternity brothers, like Hendery or Yangyang, was playing pranks on him, because his new notes kept disappearing until it stopped being fucking funny.

Mark and Doyoung were becoming irritable because they were having constant nightmares and not sleeping well. Doyoung tried taking some pills to rest, but they were worse—trapping him in horrible dreams without being able to wake up and throwing them out the window the next day. Mark was grumpy and a bit paranoid, insisting that his cross necklace, originally inherited from the reverend, had disappeared and that he heard noises when he was alone. But Johnny was sure it was because Mark had the messiest room and his system was full of Redbull and he was sleeping little. Mark had reached his limit when he found a couple of dead flies on his desk and freaked out. He refused to sleep in his room, now being Chenle's temporary roommate. 

Poor Johnny went through a few days of mourning when the shelves of his wine cellar gave way and broke without warning, shattering all the hundreds of precious, expensive wine bottles that he and his father had collected together. The worst part is that no one had noticed for a few days, so the wine was left there until the smell of rot filled the room and the floor had to be replaced. 

Donghyuck's car tires had been slashed, the fuel tank filled with water, and as if that weren't enough, they had scratched the entire exterior, leaving the crowbar perfectly wedged against the driver's side window after finishing the job. He had tried to look at the security cameras like Chenle, but just like his, they didn't work. The image looked blurry until it went black as if there was some interference, so he had to accept that his car was ruined without catching the culprit for the moment.

Jeno realized that his protein shakes tasted like crap and didn't understand why, maybe because he was trying a new brand and flavor. It wasn't until he realized that the milk in his fridge was sour and spoiled, which was confusing. The milk hadn't expired, but when she smelled it through the package, the rotten smell made him gag. He bought a new pack at another store—just to be sure—and when he tried his shake at the gym, he spat it out in front of everyone, feeling that disgusting rotten taste again.

A few days before Halloween and the NCT party, the six Founders barged into Jaemin's room unannounced and surrounded him. The leader raised an eyebrow and lowered his phone, pausing his game, looking at them all without understanding anything and annoyed by the interruption.

‘’What?’’

"We need to talk," Doyoung started, crossing his arms. "We have a problem."

Jaemin sitted down and put his phone away, giving his brothers his full attention. ‘’What’s it? The TXT frat is fucking with us again? I thought I was clear when I punched the president at the spring party.’’

Chenle went straight to the point, sitting in a chair in his leader's room, face unreadable as he’s wearing his classic black sunglasses hiding his eyes. ‘’We have a witch in our hands.’’

Since you had woken up on Halloween day, you felt like everyone had reached their peak weirdness. The days before, when you saw Jaemin's friends around campus, they wouldn't even look at you; in fact, you thought they were avoiding you. Jia was acting similarly, making excuses about having a lot of homework and exams, which you understood. Your relationship with Yuna had been in a strange place since the night of the witch burning, and things had worsened when your ex friend started to take an increasing interest in Jaemin. Apparently, Chenle was a thing of the past and your friend wanted another Founder, with her eyes on the leader. Despite everything, it was strange to get ready alone in your room when you were used to doing it with your friends. 

Everyone on campus was going to the annual NCT costume party that night, known for being one -if not the most- wild of the year, epic and out of control. The Founders paid the university to look the other way and not interrupt, letting them do whatever they wanted. Of course, the deal worked successfully every year.

You had chosen a somewhat cliché fallen angel outfit. You were wearing small black wings and a lace top of the same color to match your cute body-hugging skirt and high boots, definitely a sinful angel, as Jaemin had said when you sent him a photo before going out. You didn't really feel like putting too much effort into your costume, although you did want to look good. Really bloody and terrifying costumes weren't your thing anyway, in fact, nothing of that sort at all.

You made your way into the NCT house, a bit surprised by the party's budget. The broken decorations had been replaced with new ones, and the entire front yard had tombs, moving figures of ghosts and vampires, obviously a witch; there was even a smoke machine that added a terrifying touch. It looked like it was straight out of a fucking horror movie, and people had followed the dress code to the max, the costumes you saw had high production value and quality. Jaemin hadn't told you he was going in disguise, but you had a slight suspicion when he sent you some tweets of Ghostface and asked if you liked the mask.

You entered the house with deafening music and colored lights, filled with people dancing, others playing games and drinking, and some even kissing in the corners. It was a typical frat party, but the night felt different... maybe because it was Halloween. Supposedly it was a night of witches and demons, right? The air felt tense, as if something were about to happen but you didn't quite know what it was. 

You were looking for Jaemin when someone suddenly crosses your path and says your name. Yangyang takes off his Art the Clown rubber mask to greet you. "What are you wearing?" he asked, a bit offended, observing your outfit and frowning. "It's supposed to be Halloween, not the Victoria's Secret fashion show. Hey, not that I'm complaining, anyway! Are you sure you want to date Jaemin and not me?" He speaked quickly, looking at you mischievously without letting you get a word in.

"Yes, Yangyang, I'm sure," you responded immediately, without paying attention to his comments. "Have you seen Jaemin?"

‘’Nope! I haven't seen any Founders, actually," he frowned as if he was realizing it at that moment and shrugged, lowering his mask. ‘’Anyway, don't try the punch! I put way too much rum in that shit when Kun wasn't looking," he warned, giving you a kiss on the cheek and quickly fleeing while laughing like an evil and silly gremlin. 

You continued your way through the party and decided to skip some places, heading directly to the stairs to go to Jaemin's floor. You were walking down the hallway and don't notice a door opening behind you as you pass, a black figure in a hood appearing. He followed you a few steps, acting quickly when he realizes you felt him behind you. The stranger grabbed you and pushed you against the wall, making you scream in surprise, calming down only a little when you realize it's Ghostface the one holding you. His hand covered your neck and squeezed it slightly, feeling your pulse race with fear.

"No, Mr. Ghostface, don't kill me! I want to appear in the sequel!" you laughed, breaking free from his grip with a shove and running towards his room before he can catch you again. You opened the door feeling the adrenaline fill you and you are about to close it behind you when Jaemin put his foot in and pushes it open. You slowly backed up to the bed while Jaemin locks the door, taking off his mask and tossing it aside. 

''Do you think it's okay to keep escaping from me? Angel, angel... You never learn your lesson, do you?” Jaemin asked, moving towards you slowly, speaking in a tone of mock sympathy. You felt excitement wash over you, your thighs rubbing together as you stared at him and he noticed, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “Kneel,” he ordered, resting a hand on your head to press you down. “You didn't think I was going to forget the punishment I owe you, did you?”.

“N-no,” you replied, your knees hitting the floor. Jaemin's hand gently caressed your cheek until he slided his fingers up to your mouth, rubbing them against your lips. ‘’Nana-’’

He slapped your cheek with his other hand, not too hard but firm enough to make you gasp and shut up. ''I thought so. Always so chatty, so defiant. But don't worry, angel, I know the best way to shut you up. Open your mouth, pretty slut.’’

You licked your lips and then part them, looking at Jaemin with pitiful eyes. He slipped his fingers into your mouth and you sucked on them immediately, swirling your tongue over them and cupping your cheeks to suck them eagerly, breathing through your nose as he takes them deep into your throat until you choke. He did it again and again until saliva begins to drip from the corners of your lips, feeling it dripping down your cleavage. You inhaled air through your mouth as he wiped away the wetness on your lips, making you more of a sloppy mess. He grabbed your hair and hold it in his fist as he shooted you a stern look as your hand groped the bulge in his pants covered by the black robe of the costume.

''So fucking needy, can't you wait for my cock, mm? You better not close your mouth, understand?” he said, releasing you to unbutton his pants. You obed him and keep your mouth open, tongue hanging out and feeling the saliva dripping down as you wait for him. He looked at you with smug satisfaction as he pulled his cock out of his boxers and rubbed it up against your pretty face, the thick, long cock rubbing your cheek and nose, even brushing against your tongue as Jaemin stroked himself in front of you. 

You moaned when Jaemin let out a rough growl as he pressed his balls against your tongue and you flicked your tongue along them, feeling so powerful as you pleasure him. Jaemin grabbed your head as before and drived his cock into your mouth, thrusting lazily as your lips wrap around it and sucked on it, your tongue circling his thickness. You sucked him at his pace, slow, deep lunges that made you moan around him, feeling him hard in your mouth and giving you the occasional gag when he stayed too long at the back of your throat. 

He only pulled out when you blink and a few tears escape, smiling down at you from his height and letting you breathe for a few seconds before plunging back into the back of your mouth, pushing his cock until your nose bumps against his pelvis.

He placed both hands on your head and holded you down, fucking your face more rapidly, making you gag around his cock and reaching a hand between your legs, stroking your swollen, throbbing clit. ''Fuck, so fucking good, sucking cock like the whore you are,” he grunted, slamming it down your throat over and over as you gagged and tried to relax your jaw, taking his huge cock with your slacked mouth.

You breathed shakily as you let Jaemin continue to fuck your mouth, moving your fingers around faster on your clit and even sliding one finger into your aching pussy, moaning as you moved them in the same pace as Jaemin was using your throat and even slidded another digit in.

''A dirty angel, preparing her pussy to be fucked without my permission,” Jaemin scolded you, pushing his cock's tip against the inside of your cheek and smacking it, making both of you moan from the sensation. ''Get on all fours and lift that ass up like a good slut for me.''

Jaemin pulled his cock out of your mouth and you couldn't help but cough a little and swallow, feeling your throat dry. You stood up trembling and sniffling through your nose from the tears, hurrying to obey Jaemin. You slowly leaned over the bed, giving him a view from under your skirt as you position yourself, revealing that you were not wearing any underwear. Jaemin's breath catches when he realizes you're not wearing anything under your skirt, seeing your pussy glistening with moisture, swollen lips that you part with your fingers, moaning his name to provoke him.

"Jaemin, please, I need your cock filling me," you said, turning your head to look at him, resting your face on his pillow. You spreaded your legs to show him more of your dripping pussy, biting your lower lip and begging with your eyes. "I want you to fuck me full of your cum," you moaned, giving your clit little slaps, moving your hips to rub your fingers firmly against it.

You saw Jaemin's eyes darkening and you smile pleased internally, knowing you have him right where you want him. You loved the way he dominated and fucked you, but you also liked to play with him and provoke him; pulling his strings until you got what you wanted. The way he positioned himself behind you and kneaded your ass made you moan in need, a possessive feeling filling you up as you know he is yours, feeling so overwhelmed that you can't help but shudder when you feel the tip of his cock pushing into your entrance, driving himself into your pussy so deep that his balls hit your ass.

‘’Nana, you’re so big,’’ you cried in pleasure at the feeling of stretching and a bit of pain sting, your walls getting used to Jaemin's size as they throbbed around his cock, scratching the sheets with your hands. You clinged to them when Jaemin started fucking you hard and deep, both of you moaning like two animals in heat while his hands grip your waist tightly. 

"Taking my cock so well, this pretty pussy is made just for me, right?" He gived your ass a smack, causing more of your moans, and Jaemin growled as he fucks you hard while rolling up your skirt, gripping the garment as he moved in and out of you quickly. "You’re never going to leave my side, always being filled up with my cock and cum," he breathed heavily, groaning hoarsely as he feels your pussy tighten at the sound, feeling out of control. ‘’You’re going to let me breed you like the good girl you are-’’

Your eyes filled with surprise when he said that, and your body reacted, your pussy getting wetter and liking the idea, a sensation of pleasure forming in your stomach that has you whimpering with need while Jaemin railed you hard and fast. ‘’Yes, Nana! I’ll let you—fill me up, please," you begbed, your mouth slightly open, drooling on his bed as he used you however he wanted, giving pleasure and excitement, whining with each thrust of his big cock inside you. 

"Fuck, begging like the pretty little whore that you are- I'm gonna fill you up so much, angel," he promised while thrusting into you, feeling drops of sweat fill his nape. Jaemin slapped your ass again and grabbed the flesh of your cheeks, kneading them possessively and spreading them apart to see the small hole of your ass.

He lets a thread of saliva fall slowly onto him, surprising you with the sensation and making you whimper, looking at him with imploring eyes as Jaemin begins to slide his index finger over it in a caress, spreading his saliva on it. "I’m gonna fuck this tight hole next, fill it with cum too."

You moaned from the overwhelming sensations and nodded repeatedly, gasping and tightening around Jaemin's cock, feeling your climax approaching as he inserted the tip of his finger into your ass, making you gasp in surprise at the unexpected but welcome touch.

"Come on my cock my pretty slut, milk me," he ordered, and you could only moan, feeling a tremor in your legs and your core fill with heat and moisture, soaking Jaemin's cock with your slick. "Beg for my fucking cum."

‘’Jaemin, please! I want all your cum, breed me," you said breathlessly, moaning non-stop even as you cummed, a wave of pleasure hitting you and leaving you dazed as you enjoy it. You stretched your hand back, caressing Jaemin's stomach and looking at him again, smiling provocatively. "Fill me with your cum, I want it to drip from me for days, please-" 

‘’Take it, it's all yours, angel, fucking take it," he moaned, finishing deep inside your pussy, making you whimper from the warm feeling of his semen filling you up. Jaemin clinged to you as he finishes and tried to catch his breath, staring intently as his cock buried in your pussy, coating your womb with his cum. He gave you a gentle thrust and you moaned from the sensitivity, a masculine satisfaction filling him as he continued moving, some remnants of his cum coming out of your entrance and being pushed back in with the tip of his cock. ‘’Shit, baby. This pussy is driving me crazy," he murmured as he continues playing with his semen, floating his cock between the folds of your pussy and then gathering the white liquid to push it back inside you again. ''Such a pretty hole, dripping with my cum.''

You made a small sound and let your body fall forward, closing your eyes with a happy sigh and a bit of tiredness. You moved you hand behind you, slipping it between your legs and gathering the remnants of semen in your pussy, spreading it slowly between your folds too while looking at Jaemin with lustful eyes and softly moaning. You swore Jaemin's pupils dilate and he lunged at you, kissing you hungrily while his fingers intertwine with yours, both slowly caressing your poor, used pussy until you sighed contentedly and looked at him mischievously afterward. 

"Put the mask on, I want to ride Ghostface now." 

You didn't know how your legs were able to, but you found a strength to leave the bed and go down to the kitchen while the party continued and Jaemin followed after you, both hungry and thirsty after fucking two times non-stop. Your angel wings were long gone, and thankfully Jaemin didn’t tear any of your clothes this time, so you were presentable. It was way past midnight and the Halloween party was peaking, not noticing anyone you knew, not even your friends when you passed the living room scanning the people dancing. Jaemin was leading you by holding your hand, put you let it go when someone pushes with force against your body, making you move back. 

‘’What's up, pumpkin?’’ Johnny smiled at you, you noticed first thing he was not wearing a costume. ‘’Are you enjoying the party?’’

‘’We do, man,’’ Jaemin answered for you, putting his arm to your shoulders. ‘’Are you going to the woods?’’

‘’Yeah, are you two coming? We’re having another bonfire, this time it's beer, tho. I haven’t had the time to refill my wine cellar,’’ the tall man said, winking at you as he murmured your name. ‘’You’re coming too, right? You know our leader won’t come if you aren’t there.’’

‘’Of course she’s coming, right baby?’’ Jaemin smiled at you, kissing your temple. You looked at him strangely because that wasn't your usual routine. You two were the cuddling type, so after having sex both will laid in bed for hours, just making up and chilling. Going to another stupid bonfire wasn't part of that ritual, that was weird. ‘’It will be fun, you’ll see, angel.’’

You entered the same entrance in the forest where a few days ago burned the witch dummy, but this time there wasn't any garland of light illuminating the path. The wood looked dark and creepy, the full moon rising on the sky and you admired it for a moment. Johnny and Jaemin chatted about sports and you don’t really heard them, missing the bed you were in before. 

As you three came closer to the forest’s clearing, you noticed there’s no bonfire, but light up torches in the Founder’s hands. You crossed your arms as you walked towards them, feeling the tension thickening as you came closer. You sided eye Jaemin, feeling kinda uneasy, none of the Founders- and your friends who were there too not talking or laughing or drinking, they just… stayed there, illuminated by the fire in the torches.

But as you were about to say something to Jaemin, his hands pushed you to the ground hard, making you gasp in pain and confusion. His hand grabbed your hair and yanked your hair, forcing your eyes to see the Founders coming close to you. ‘’Jaemin, what the fuck! Let go!’’

‘’You’re forbidden to speak, witch,’’ Donghyuck sayid, kicking the ground so dirt lands on your body. ‘’This is a trial by the council. Bring the witnesses, Mark.’’

Mark did as told, making a hand gesture to Jia and Yuna to come closer. They do, Jia looking shaken up and Yuna more composed, eyes shining at you with an emotion you can’t put your finger on. What the fuck was going on?!

You intended to speak again, but as you about to you felt a jab of pain to your face, Johnny giving you a strong slap to your cheek that already leaves a mark behind. 

‘’Shut up witch, you can’t speak,’’ he grunted and then looks at the girls. ‘’Tell what you told Chenle before.’’

‘’I saw her pinching her finger with a needle and didn't bleed,’’ Yuna is fast to accuse, staring at you in what appears to be fear, but you didn't buy it. ‘’And she- she didn't like Chenle, she said that she wishes he could go to hell, too.’’

‘’What!? What the fuck is going on, I never said-’’ A new wave off pain washed over your face, this time being for the hand of the named before. Chenle growled at you with so much hate- you actually feared him. You tried to catch Jaemin’s eyes, begging silently, but he didn't even looked at you, stare still on his friend. 

‘’This is your witch trial, fucking demon. You really thought you could fuck with us? You think you scares us?’’ Chenle said, smiling at you in a mocking way, shaking his head. ‘’You don’t have any fucking idea what you’re got yourself into to.’’

‘’What are you talking about?! I’m not a fucking witch, have you all lost your minds?!’’ You yelled, terror filling your voice. 

‘’She’s always strolling around trying to seduce men,’’ Jia said, and sended a quick look towards Jeno. ‘’J-jeno told me you always give him flirty eyes, even right after you come to town. Aren’t you ashamed? Being that young and taunting him with your short skirts?’’ She asked, voice filling with anger and jealousy, making you snort incredulously.

‘’Is this a fucking joke? What are you even on- I don’t even speak to Jeno,’’ you defended yourself confused by that accusation, watching your friend like they were crazy and you frown your eyebrows. ‘’Short- what? Jia, we had the same uniform,’’ you reminded her desperately, gripping Jaemin’s fingers in your head and trying to let go of your hair with a cry. ‘’Our skirts were the same length! We were sixteen! Are you even listening what you’re saying?’’

‘’So you don’t deny you tried to seduce him, right? I am a witness myself, knowing damn well you’re a little minx, showing your legs and tits in your tight outfits,’’ Donghyuck said, his eyes scanning your Halloween costume and you cursed under your breath. 

‘’She always goes to the forest to study,’’ Yuna accused you before you could defend yourself again, ‘’but now I know she wasn't doing that. The night of the bonfire I saw her and Jaemin! She was naked and dancing in front of him, s-she was speaking in tongues,’’ her voice cracks, hugging herself and seeming like she's about to cry at any minute. ‘’She was bewitching him! Witch!’’

You stared at everybody completely in shock, they’re all lost their minds?! You felt a new pair of hands as Johnny grabbed you easily away from Jaemin and started dragging you across the ground to somewhere while you screamed and kicked until you were in front of what appeared to be the point where they burned the dummy witch last time. With a new stake. 

‘’You were behind all the shit going down, the fire and the explosions,’’ this time Renjun accused you, coming next to you, giving you a disgusted look. ‘’You knew what happened to the original Founders and you did it to us too,’’ another slap landed on you, shocked that a quiet, cold Renjun could act like that. ‘’You made fun of us, thinking we won’t realize, don’t you? You give us nightmares and tried to fuck with your minds.’’

‘’Jaemin told us he found Mark’s Reverend cross in your room,’’ Doyoung seethes and you shaked your head, making him more furious. ‘’Stop lying, fucking witch!’’

‘’I don't! I didn't steal anything, I swear!’’ you cried confused and scared, trying to see Jaemin behind you. ‘’Nana, what’s all this?! Why did you said that?! It's a lie!’’

‘’Our leader would't lie or betray us, no matter how good your pussy is. He hates fucking, evil witches just like us,’’ Donghyuck defended his friend, voice proud. ‘’And we will clean our town of them, just like the founders did.’’

‘’This was his idea,’’ Johnny said, smiling at Jaemin. ‘’It wasn't difficult, right? You follow him around matter what. Did you had fun at the party, doll? I hope you enjoyed, it was your last time.’’

You stayed silent and freezed as you realize what’s happening. The accusations, the torches with fire, the stake- your eyes get bigger and your body trembled, realising you’re completely alone. No one knows you were in the woods, just Jaemin, the Founders and your friends. And none of them were gonna to help you, you thought starting to cry more desesperately.

‘’You are guilty of the crimes of witchcraft and the council has decided tonight you’ll burn for it.’’ Jaemin's voice filled your rigning ears, making you sob harder.

‘’Please, please! I’m not a fucking witch! You’re all insane!'’ You screamed in panic, your voice shaking while trying to convince someone. Your eyes found Yuna and Jia. ‘’Jia, please, help me. They’re gonna kill me, please make them stop,’’ you begged them, crying desperately.

Next to her was Yuna, porting the same sad face Jia wears, but none of them moved your way. Jia cried silently, staying still as she watched you beg. You shaked your head, realizing they chose their side and it was the Founders. 

‘’Yuna, please! You said you will never let me alone, remember? W-when we met on my first day in h-highschool, you said you’d take care of me,’’ you reminded her, your voice tainted with not just fear, but sadness and a boiling rage filling your chest.

‘’Shut up!,’’ Mark groaned, pushing you to the ground with a kick to your back. You landed fist face and felt seconds after the blood coming from your nose and mouth, slip lip. ’’Dont speak to them, witch.’’

You saw Jaemin standing a little behind and you cry in anger, immobilized to the ground while Marks tided your wrists tightly and you sobbed, thinking about your night Jaemin back at the NCT frat. How you two kissed and fucked, until you two were just one body. 

‘’How could you do this to me, Jaemin? Please, help me, please-’’ you begged once again, voice cracking with fear and closing your eyes when another sob tembled in your chest. ‘’Please, I’m not a witch!’’

Your sobs and desperate cries for help echoed through the forest without receiving a response, your cheeks soaked with tears that run your mascara. You lowered your head to avoid seeing Chenle starting pouring gasoline on the bonfire, hiding your eyes behind your hair like a curtain. A few moments passed and your crying morphed into small laughs that interruped your sobs, until you were laughing hysterically, throwing your head back and looking at the full moon that illuminated the night.

A breeze stared to sweep through the forest, growing stronger with each passing second, making the treetops and the flames of the torches shake violently to the rhythm of your crying. Mark, who were behind you, begins to stepped back and hold the cross around his neck, looking at the others who also tense up with your laughter, glancing at each other with distrust.

The scared and tearful girl was someone completely different, watching them with a maniacal smile as you slowly straighten up, sitting on your heels, and letting out a chuckle at the surprise on their faces. 

You looked completely insane, with your bloody face and the fear erased from you, a pleased, mocking grin in your lips. ‘’Well, well. Aren't you guys a couple of damn good detectives,'' you laughed, tilting your head to the side. ''It must run in the blood, right?''

They all react differently, Yuna and Jia being actually gasping in a mix of shock and fear. Chenle and Doyoung looked like they wanna chop your head off at any minute, Johnny, Jeno and Renjun were porting similar stances, tense and looking cautious. Donghyuck, on the other hand, seemed conflicted and a little bit scared, just like Mark, who you listened was praying with his voice low.

But Jaemin…he just stared at you with an empty face. It’s like he was wearing a mask. No emotions, not the pretty glow in his eyes or his enchanting smile, no fear of hate radding off his body. He just… looked at you with the most blank face, making your heart twist with anguish at his disinterest. 

"Witch," Doyoung spited through clenched teeth, his hand trembling with fury as he holded his torch. "You’re a liar and a sinner, and you’ll burn in hell for it." 

‘’Me? I’m the one going to hell? Dodo,’’ you responded in a teasing tone, laughing to yourself, ’’you don’t think you’re going too? Or at least to prison, this looks like a group murder attempt to me. But I think we should ask the expert, where’s the future lawyer? What do you think, Junnie?’’

‘’Shut the fuck up, evil demon,’’ Renjun said in the iciest tone you’ve ever heard from him. 

You pouted squinting your eyes at him. '’Sheesh, I just wanted free legal counseling, is that a sin?’’ You joked, laughing again when they stayed silent, letting out a surprised yelp when someone grabbed your tied arms from behind and lifted you up, dragging you to the stake. You turned your head to see Mark and you grinned at him. ’’Oh, the pastor’s son! Wait, are we having a moment just us or something? How does this actually go? I wanna confess, Father, let me confess!’’ 

You felt this body tensing at your mockery tone while you tried to shake his hands off you, fighting against him. Chenle joined in and grabbed your hair in his fist, throwing your head back with painful force until his face meets yours.

He slapped you with the fame force as before, done with your little jokes. ‘’Who are you? Why’d you came to this town?’’ 

You whimpered from the pain and licked your dry and hurt lips, tasting the new blood decorating them. ‘’Sarah,’’ you explained with a sigh, ‘’me and my mom- we have a coven. I'm connected to her, she’s my guide. She started appearing in my dreams, showing me everything,’’ you growled now, all the teasing and laughter gone from you. Your body shuddered with pure, red rage that made your veins and heart burn with anger. ‘’How the town treat them, how they tortured and her sisters too, how they… they took everything from them until the were nothing.’’ 

You let out some honest tears, and you didn't knew if they were yours or hers. You closed your eyes for a moment, thinking about all the violent scenes you’ve seen from years and years in your dreams. How the coven were betrayed by friends, blind by envy and jealousy. How they spend nights fearing for what’s next to come, who will be taken for tests or just tortured in the name of God. The way they burned her house and stole her animals, how they sent the youngest to her death by throwing into the deep waters with her ankles tied with rocks and watched how she drowned- and the way the people breathed in relief, knowing the town was being cleaned and guided by the lovable founders. 

They weren’t just girls. They were poor souls, of course, and the Reverend reminded the people that they have to have mercy in their heart while praying for them, because the girls were tainted and marked by the Devil’s touch.

The same girls that helped the town in the best way they could, providing the pregnant woman special medicine to help their discomfort and even taking their late mom's place and help deliver some healthy babies. The same girls who gave milk and butter to the ones who didn’t get a good harvest before winter. The same girls that after a long day of work played like kids in the forest together, picking up flowers and singing to the moon.

None of that mattered. Everybody turned their backs on them.

The women accused them of seducing their sons, dancing provocatively and naked in the woods, having many testimonies about it. Their friends envying the way the girls will catch the attention with their beauty and the sound of their laugh, the way the Major will look at Sarah with so much desire. The men resented her and her sisters and the way the girls lived alone and unmarried, like they weren’t dignified enough to take their hand and bless the town with more members. Even more scandalous, doing men's work like taking care of the farm by themselves, why did the girls have more land than them? Why did the sisters ignore them and their advances?

And the Reverend… oh, how he loved it. The way they all listened to his sermons, how they believed his words, the direct voice of God coming off him. He was the salvation personificated, taking his precious town into the blessed gates of heaven. That power was so intoxicating. And when the accusations started coming in, he was just ecstatic. He was taking care of the town, he kept to remind himself with satisfaction even his thoughts were interrupted everytime the girls would scream nonstop at the torture room.

‘’They were evil beings, just like you-’’ Jeno said in a venomous way with his hands pressed tight in fists. ’’Playing games like you do, doing witchcraft and tarnishing the city with it.’’

‘’They were not! The town- they betrayed them! Just because you don’t understand what they did it doesn't mean they were evil,’’ you screamed, fighting again against Chenle and Mark with fierceness, not caring if you could get hit again, ’’and all of you are just like them, the mighty Founders,’’ you spited, ‘’fuck you!’’

‘’Shup the up fuck,’’ Johnny growled, coming to you and slaping you with force. ‘’You tried to curse this town again, just like Sarah. You bright harm to us, remember?’’

‘’I just gave you guys the real evil witch the town wanted for so long and I had fun doing it. But the final will be different this time.’’ 

You saw red, feeling so angry and hysterical, you couldn’t believe that after all this time, after centuries… they were still here. The judge, the banker, the notary and the commissioner, the medic and the reverend- even the major… They were still here, in the form of Renjun, Donghyuck, Doyoung, Jeno, Johnny, Mark and Jaemin. Even the accusers, who looked just like Yuna and Jia.

But I’m here too, you thought, trying to comfort yourself.

"All of you are just like them," you said with venom, looking at each and every one of them, ‘’believing yourself to be better, thinking of taking a life as if it’s nothing. The witches did nothing wrong, why was it a crime to appreciate nature and its gifts? But the council didn't care, did they? They locked them up, tortured them, and then staged that... fake trial, when they already knew what they were going to do with them.’’

Chenle and Mark tied you to the stake by the wrist, so tight it cuts your blood circulation. They all rounded the bonfire, the smell of gasoline filling your nose after Johnny wet the big wooden sticks placed on top of another and straw too. Their hot torches didn't come down yet, since they were waiting for their leader's signal, just like they always did.

‘’Some last words?’’ Jaemin asked next to your ear, soft lips tracing the side of your neck and his hands caressing your arms for what you think it’s a goodbye.

‘’I love you,’’ you felt his hand grabbing the restraints on your wrist and the cold edge of a razor against your skin there. You sensed the warmth of the fire from the torches coming close to you, ready to burn you when the leader says so. You turned your face to the side, wanting to see him as you whisper your words to him. ’’Jaemin, I love you.’’

‘’I love you too, my pretty witch,’’ he whispered, cutting the rope and taking a step back, freeing you. He turned around and collides against Chenle, who saw the whole thing and was rushing to the stake to stop it. With no words, Jaemin lifted his hand and in a fast and unexpected move he cutted the Founder's throat, slicing it open. 

Everything happend so fast at the same time.

Chenle started coughing and splashing blood everywhere as he fell to the ground, the majority of the red liquid landing in Jaemin while Yuna and Jia screamed. Jeno lunged for the leader’s body tackling him as Mark and Johnny were in shock, Mark actually letting go of his torch on the ground to cover his mouth drowning the scream that comes out of it. Renjuns runned to his dying friend, trying to apply pressure on the wound on but it’s impossible, the blood coming too fast outta the sliced throat. Donghyuck followed Renjun, throwing his torch without a thought as he rushed to help his friends, turning hysterical. 

No one payed attention to you for a moment, or how you moved your fingers in the dirt, making symbols as you sing softly but hurrying, the familiar warmth of power coming to your body. You digged your fingers into the ground and sing more fierceling, casting a powerful, dark spell until your eyes turned black. When Doyoung realiced what you were doing it’s too late, not able to took a few steps towards you when his body is suddenly freezing and his hand covers his aching throat in pain, gasping for air.

Everybody else follows, feeling their throats closing as if somebody was choking them with so much force, making their faces red and desperate right away. They tried to fight it but it was impossible, the invisible touch squeezing so hard until they start losing consciousness and some noses bleed, eyes coming out of their sockets, hands falling just like their bodies.

Your nose bleeded too from the power you’re using, body shaking but unable to stop, feeling deep inside you an intense satisfaction as you saw how the Founders were dying slowly, just like the seven sisters died so long ago; suffering. The muffled sounds of the Founders started to fade- even Chenle, who took his last breath. 

Your body lied on the ground after everything comes to an end, trying to breath and feeling so exhausted. The whole thing leaved you completely weak in a way you never felt before, but then again, you never used your magic to something like this before. You were powerful, but this was a different type of magic that took almost too much energy- but you could swear you felt them, your past coven members inside you and of course, Sarah. In the middle of feeling completely drained you also felt a peace that warmed your heart. You suspected it was her.

While you blinked hard trying not to go into unconsciousness, for a second you throughout you saw the witches running through the trees of the dark forest with their hands intertwined, a distant chorus of laughter dying in the wind until the place was silent again. You didn’t bother to look around to see the bodies of the Founders and of your two friends, dead too.

You heared footsteps rapidly coming your way and the next thing you knew Jaemin was taking you in his arms, eyes darkening with worry and desperate searching your face and body for injuries, afraid for the first time in the whole night when he saw how hard you fell to the ground and stayed still for the most fucking long moments of his life.

‘’Fuck, baby,’’ he breathed, hugging you tightly against his body, shaking just like you, ‘’you scared the shit outta me.’’ Jaemin closed his eyes and inhaled in your neck, needing to feel your perfume in a mad manner. ‘’I thought you were really hurt- fuck.’’

You smiled, feeling a little pain on your face from the blows you took before, now dried blood stains decorating your skin. ‘’I’m okay, Nana,’’ you said, leaning backwards so you can see his face, ‘’I’m just- I feel so tired.’’

Jaemin hissed seeing the blood and some parts of your pretty face darkened in red- no doubt there will be bruises tomorrow. His face was beated too, taking some hard punches from Jeno as they were fighting before.

‘’Shit-’’ he started, tensed jaw and voice full of disgust, stopping himself as the leader felt guilt rushing to his heart seeing you hurt. ‘’Baby, I’m so sorry. I take it too far?’’ He questioned, frowning.

‘’I’m okay,’’ you repeated, kissing him gently on the lips. Your boyfriend kisses you in the same way, raising his hands to your face and holding it so softly and careful- it melts your heart. You tasted some blood too, noticing the splatter of it in Jaemin’s face and clothes when you separate a little bit, your movements slowed as you feel totally drained of energy. ‘’You did so well, Nana. It had to look real, remember?’’

Jaemin kissed you again, his thumb caressing your cheek. ‘’You looked so fucking hot back there,’’ he admited with a evil smirk.

‘’Jaemin, please! What the hell, stop!’’ you laughed incredibly scandalized at his words, a little bit ironic knowing what you just did, killing in revenge a bunch of people. 

‘’What?’’ he laughed, that pretty, full of millions of white perfect teeth showing, ‘’I can’t adore my pretty witch?’’ He calmed a little, still smiling but now more like the lover you know, dark eyes sparking at you. ‘’I'm sorry for pushing you early-’’

‘’Nana, it has to be done, we plan it to be as real as possible. They couldn't suspect you,’’ you repeated one again, smiling to calm him down. 

‘’I know but, shit,’’ he sighed, still sensing a little bit of stress rushing, ‘’I can’t ever see you hurt again like that, you understand?’’

‘’Okay,’’ you promised easily because it was true, wanting nothing more than a peaceful life with Jaemin. This time you kissed him, and you shivered with cold and excitement. 

You were walking down the road with Jaemin, glued to his side, still feeling weak and exhausted, wishing for two or three days to spend only sleeping, so tired. You felt like passing out at any moment again, but you refused to let Jaemin carry you, who has already done so much for you tonight, besides taking a beating.

Jaemin let you, looking at you and knowing full well that you would end up in his arms in no time. Luckily there don't seemed to be any around, either sleeping or partying, as the night isn't over yet; but you and Jaemin don't stand up suspiciously anyway, your bloodied and beaten figures looking like a fucked up zombie couple costumes or something. 

''Thank you,'' you said out of the blue, looking at your boyfriend, ''for everything, tonight. I meant it, Jaemin.''

Jaemin stopped and so do you, you were unable to help the smile on your face as he kissed you tenderly, taking special care with your wounded lips. You felt his arms around you pulling you closer to his body and you melt back into his chest.

‘'There's nothing in the world I wouldn't do for you, baby,'' he said, beaming at you as he nuzzled your bruised cheek adoringly. '’I knew it from the first time I saw you at school, my cute witch. The girl of my dreams, literally.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling a little embarrassed thinking about the young you, still baby face and everything, pretty different from how you looked now. Jaemin told you once that he dreamed about you for years, seeing you between the rising flames of Sarah’s burning and calling for him. 

‘’I will never forget that day,’’ Jaemin muttered. ‘’It felt like my heart recognised yours, angel. You were finally with me after so much time, it felt so right.’’

You felt your eyes well up with hot, thick, love-filled tears that threaten to escape and Jaemin wiped them away with his thumb when they do, smiling at you. “I would do anything for you too, Nana. I just love you so much,” you whispered to his lips, “so damn much.’’

''I love you, my pretty witch,'' Jaemin said as he gives you a small kiss, a sealed promise. ''This time I will never let you go.’’ 

[ilongfor-the-arts]

Just read the museum marquis fic and I love it. I wonder what would a fanfic where the marquis de gramont met a ballerina reader?

Poetry in Motion

Pairing: Marquis de Gramont x fem! Reader

Warnings: mild language

Summary: A tall and handsome man has been watching you preform for a while. What will happen when he finally chooses to introduce himself?

Word Count: 2.5k

I got multiple reqs for this! So, here ya go! Enjoy!

“You’re late Y/N!”

I dashed into the locker room, tossing my bag atop the dressing room counter.

“I know! I know! I’m really sorry! My apartment door wouldn’t lock and there was traffic and then-”

My director held up a hand, silencing me.

“I don’t care. Please-just, be ready to go by showtime.”

I nodded vigorously.

“Yes, yes, of course. I will be ready, I promise.”

She quickly turned on her heels and began walking in the opposite direction. Her blue dress swayed gently as the dancers rushed around her. Her spine was straight, her posture rigid.

I don’t blame her. I'm just as nervous as everyone else to see how this performance goes. Unfortunately, I'm a dancer, so rigid posture isn't ideal. I'm forced to keep my anxiety bottled up inside my head.

“Y/N.”

My friend called my name, jolting me from my trance. She was fully dressed, with a full face of makeup. She stared at me, completely stunned.

“Y/N, you better hurry! Everyone else is ready to go!”

I moved rapidly, quickly opening my makeup bag, praying I had enough time.

“What took you so long?”

I slapped my palms against the table, annoyed.

“Oh, Clara, it’s been such an aggravating day.”

I stared at my reflection, watching as the foundation completely coated my face.

“Do tell.”

I took out my eye makeup.

“Well, first my apartment wouldn’t lock.”

I closed one eye and applied eyeshadow as quickly as I could.

“My key wouldn’t work! And of course I couldn’t just leave my apartment unlocked so I had to bother my neighbor to get the spare key I gave her.”

I moved on to the other eye.

“Then there was so much traffic. Then I couldn’t find a good parking spot because I got here so late. Then I had to walk almost six blocks.”

My eye makeup looked... alright. Sure, if I had an extra hour, I could make it look fantastic. But, due to my unfortunate situation, I had to settle for average.

“Wow girl, that’s rough. I’m sorry.”

I pulled out my blush.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think that cute guy will be here tonight.”

I scoffed loudly.

“He’s always here. If he goes four days without seeing a ballet, just assume he’s dead.”

Oh my goodness, that blush color was really clashing with my eyeshadow. Shit! I didn't have time to remove it and start over. Perhaps I could just add another color to my eyes, creating a strange hybrid color that would blend well with the blush.

“I don’t know Y/N. I’ve been here longer than you, and he only started going regularly once you got here.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, right. It’s probably just a coincidence. I doubt he’d spend a shit ton of money on fancy ballet tickets just to see some pretty girl dance.”

I watched Clara shrug from the corner of my eye.

“I dunno. He always dresses like he’s ready to meet the queen, and he sits in a box. He doesn’t seem short on funds. He definitely could be the type to buy ballet tickets just to admire you.”

Okay, the blush and eyeshadow looked fine. I could handle "fine." I could work with "fine.”

“I don’t know Clara. You know, when you watch a performance, faces and names blend together because there are so many people on stage. I doubt he picked me out of the crowd and decided I was going to become the object of his affection.”

I put on some red lipstick, trying not to be distracted by the fact that all the dancers I saw in the mirror were fully prepared.

“Besides, a handsome man like that?... he probably has a girlfriend.”

Clara perked up.

“Oh, so you admit you think he’s handsome.”

I rolled my eyes for a second time.

“I mean, come on Clara, look at him!”

Clara let out a loud and obnoxious laugh. My face turned hot. Thankfully, the makeup covered most of the natural pink that had begun to appear on my cheeks.

“Oh my God you have a little crush on him, don’t you!”

I held up my hands in defense.

“I am not having this conversation right now!”

I stood, rushing over to the costume rack.

“I’ve never seen him with a girl Y/N! I think he’s single and ready to mingle!”

Clara’s loud voice drew some attention. I swiveled on my heels and placed a finger to my lips.

“Sh!”

-

The show was finished, and the final bows were taken.

The roar of the crowd washed over me like a wave. I was moved to know that they were all applauding for this performance. As the entire company gathered for one final bow, I observed the crowd's faces contort into bright smiles. I felt moved knowing that at least one person in the audience was thinking about what a wonderful job I did tonight.

I hoped it was the man whose appearance I had grown accustomed to over the past few weeks.

The gold theater sparkled. The red seats gradually vanished as people rose to pay their respects to the performers.

I was unable to avoid glancing around at the various people in the crowd. I started in the box seats, hoping to spot a tall man with a penchant for fashion.

No luck.

My gaze was drawn to the floor seats. I scanned them all as quickly as I could. Maybe he sat closer? If he truly came to see me, it wouldn't hurt to get the best view possible in the front row.

No luck.

I'm not sure why I was so desperate for him to be here. Nonetheless, I felt my heart sink slightly as I considered the possibility that he missed tonight's performance.

We finished with a company bow. We waved goodbye, and quickly scattered off the stage.

“Y/N!”

Clara exclaimed as we walked back to the dressing rooms.

“You did so well! Jesus, I thought for sure you’d be all scattered from coming in late, but you really pulled it off well!”

I didn't notice her hands cutting through the air as she spoke. I didn't even bother looking at her. I kept my head down, stuffing various cosmetics into my black backpack.

“Thanks Clara.”

I said flatly.

“Alright, what’s going on? Who’s got you bummed?”

I grit my teeth.

“He’s not here tonight.”

Clara leaned in.

“What did you say?”

“I said he’s not here tonight!”

I snapped involuntarily. Clara retreated.

“Woah woah, how do you know this?”

“I didn’t see him in the crowd.”

Clara furrowed her brow.

“Come on Y/N, there’s thousands of people in that crowd! There’s no way you could’ve checked every seat for him!”

My lips were pursed. Clara wrapped her hands around my shoulders, soothing me. She leaned into my ear, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“I bet he showed up tonight. And if he didn’t, it was his loss entirely.”

-

The cold Paris air bit at my exposed skin. The chill penetrated my tank top, chilling me to the bone. I drew the sides of my peacoat together, attempting to conceal my torso and thighs from the wind.

I began to stroll, trying to enjoy the lovely Paris evening despite the fact that so much was less than ideal.

After about thirty paces, I was struck by an uneasy sense that someone was watching me. I initially ignored it. There were numerous high-rise apartment buildings. I'm sure that feeling came from being a window away from someone's living space, and the possibility that someone was watching me inadvertently.

I couldn't shake the feeling even after another thirty paces. The buildings in this particular neighborhood were completely dark. That is, everyone was sleeping, and if anyone was watching me, it probably would go unnoticed by bystanders.

I took a peek over my shoulder to ensure my intuition was correct.

About thirty feet behind me was a tall, lanky man in a black coat.

Alright, probably just a coincidence-

Wait.

I did a double take.

Holy shit.

It was the guy from the ballet!

This all is just one big coincidence.

I kept my head down, trying to maintain my composure.

His footsteps became audible. I focused on them, noticing that they were becoming slightly louder with every step.

Shit.

Shit!

God, this guy is a total creep! How could I be so stupid?!

I’m about to get totally kidnapped!

I started to move faster, trying to appear calm despite being aware that my heart was pounding in my ears. My blood rushed to my heart, leaving my face pale and cold.

God, he’s getting closer!

Jesus my stomach is in knots!

“Don’t look so frightened, darling.”

The man’s velvety accent pierced the air like a knife. My heart jumped.

I’m fucked.

“Really, I just want to talk with you.”

No way in hell was I stopping. My calves burned. My eyes were wide. My hands trembled within my pockets.

My chest came into contact with something solid. I stumbled back, looking up.

Oh my goodness, he was right in front of me.

How did he get there without me hearing?

The heat left my body.

I stood, wide eyed and perplexed.

The man's neutral gaze softened as he noticed my anxiety.

“I am very sorry to have frightened you, madame. I am simply a fan wishing to pay my respects.”

He placed a hand on his chest.

“I promise, I mean no harm. There is no reason to be frightened.”

He was considerably taller than me. In two seconds, he could pick me up and throw me into the back of a shady white van.

Nonetheless, his luxurious accent and courteous eyes made me believe he was telling the truth. So I allowed myself to relax ever so slightly.

“Did you come and see the show tonight?”

A smirk played on the corners of his lips.

“But of course. It would be foolish of me to disregard the opportunity to observe such talent.”

Wow, I'm going to give credit where credit is due. He’s a smooth talker. He speaks with such elegance. I'm unable to ignore his words. With bated breath, I await each sentence.

“Well, that is very kind of you to say.”

He slipped his hands into the pockets of his black overcoat, shrugging nonchalantly.

“I only convey the complete truth. In my lifetime, I have seen hundreds of ballets, operas, and plays. It is uncommon to find such a passion for the arts in the hearts of the prefromers. Few people allow creativity to encompass every aspect of them. But, I have noticed fire within you.”

He glanced deeply into my eyes, as if he wanted to capture some of the "fire" within me and preserve it for himself.

“I can tell by the way you dance and command the stage.”

The gentle breeze rustled the end of his overcoat as his pale eyes shone in the pale moonlight. He exuded a sense of mystery that beckoned me to embrace the unknown.

“Your blood runs red with creativity.”

He came to a halt, his piercing gaze catching my lips before darting back to my eyes.

“And, your beauty is unmatched.”

Forget about my face being cold; it was now scorching hot. I just hope I kept enough blush on my cheeks to hide the natural pink.

He extends his leg, the buckle of his pricey loafer catching the moonlight. He steps closer, the wonderful aroma of whiskey and bergamot wafting into my nose. The scent cloud muffles my brain, making me dizzy with anticipation.

“How long have you been dancing for?”

I raise my eyebrows.

“Oh, well, my entire life. I started the moment I could walk and I’ve pretty much been in the dance studio everyday since.”

The enigmatic man nodded, pleased with my response. I took my hands from my pockets, as they were sweating despite the chill.

“And… Do you enjoy it?”

I nodded vigorously.

“Yes, I remember, um-.”

I took a deep breath, careful not to trip over my words and reveal that my heart was racing.

“I remember my first official dance class. I was- about four or five.”

I swallowed, a lump forming in my throat.

“All the kids were complaining. I mean, y’know, at that age it basically is just an excuse for the parents to get their obnoxious kids out of the house.”

He chuckled.

Yes!

“But I never complained, not once. I loved it from the start. And, it’s completely consumed my life since then.”

He took another step forward. The distance between us was almost non-existent now. To meet his gaze, I had to almost completely crane my neck back.

“I can tell. You don’t just dance, you float over the stage. It really is beautiful to watch.”

His voice dropped to a sultry whisper.

“You are beautiful to watch.”

My stomach flipped.

My breath caught in my throat as he cupped my face with his hand. His grip was gentle, as if he were coddling a baby bird.

My mind was empty, a void waiting to be filled by him.

He exhaled deeply, a breath fanning over my face. I instinctively leaned into him, craving his warmth, craving his scent, craving…

Him.

He ran his calloused thumb along my cheekbone. My face was burning. I knew he could feel it beneath his palm.

He grinned.

“You have a very bright future in the arts. Paris is only the beginning.”

I could sense the tension rising. I was on the edge of my seat, waiting for something magnificent to unfold.

A hug?

A proclamation of love?

A kiss?

“I hope and pray that you will allow me to be an integral component of your bright future.”

He slipped something into my empty pocket sneakily. He smiled broadly. My heart skipped a beat. His smile was enticing, so simple yet so effective.

“Call me, Ma chère.”

He took a step back, turned, and began to stroll away. My shoulders loosened. My chest gave way. My cheeks had lost their warmth. The tension had been released.

I could breathe.

I could think.

“Wait!”

I shouted. He glanced over his shoulder.

His figure looked very intriguing. Most of his ridges and curves were hidden by his long coat. It enticed one to venture into uncharted territories.

“What’s your name?”

He scoffed.

“When you call, I will tell you.”

[boypied]

MISTER POPULAR [part two]

pairings: fiyero tigelaar x male reader

summary: galinda shows up at the male reader's dorm room to find out why he hasn't been in class but is even more shocked to find fiyero lying in his bed.

requested by: me.

mentions: fluff, intimate mlm.

[part one] [part three] - coming soon

News spread like wildfire. Everyone who was anyone was talking about how the Prince of Winky Country was dating a boy from munchkinland. The scandal was almost heartstopping for the many women and men who had listed after Fiyero. "Why would he even like a Wallflower...especially one from munchkinland?" One girl states to her group of friends while making gagging sounds as she starts to mention you. You were too embarrassed to leave the dormitory. You couldn't face everyone. Even some of your Ozian friends stopped speaking to you because of how overcome with jealously they were.

Fiyero tried not to care about what people thought of him, sure he would get stared at, but people still thought they had a chance with him. Girls and guys both thought alike when it came to him. They thought they had a chance to win the Prince, even though they never had a chance with him to begin with. It made him sick to his stomach when he would hear what everyone was saying about you, but he had a standard to uphold. You laid back against your bed, pulling up the warm blanket to cover your body entirely. You would lay there for ages until Fiyero would come in and yank it off you.

"Fiyero," you say in a soft tone as he climbs onto the bed and spoons you. He softly pulls his arms around your waist, pulling himself closer to you, your bodies making contact with each other. Fiyero softly places a kiss on your neck, "Are you okay? You haven't left your room in days. You've never skipped classes before now, " he whispers in your ear, his voice laced in concern. You don't say anything for a moment just feeling his warmth filled presence near you, "I can't deal with all the...words people are throwing at me. Everything they're saying about me, " you mumble out timidly.

"I just don't want to feel like this," you mumble out quietly as you feel Fiyero pull you closer, it's funny in a way how he is comforting you now when only a couple days ago you were the one comforting him. Feeling his presence near you was all you needed to feel safe enough to fall into the dark abyss of sleep. After a quick nap, you hear a loud banging on your dorm room door, causing both you and Fiyero to jump up from being so startled so quickly after waking up.

Fiyero's hand unwrap from around your waist, and the warmth between you both leaves at you stand up and make your way over to the dorm room door. You pull open your dorm room door to be met with a very familiar, very perky girl; Galinda Upland. She invites herself in and gently pushes past your arm as you were leaning against the door frame. You hear a very loud, extremely dramatic gasp leave her lips.

"So the rumours are true.." she says as her eyes dart back and forth from a barely awake Fiyero who isn't entirely sure about what is happening and a very mentally exhausted munchkin. "How could you cheat on me?" She mumbles under her breath as she looks back at Fiyero, "what did you say?" He says in a curious tone, and then her eyes widen, and she lets out a loud forced giggle. "Nothing, Fiyero!" She says, the room falls silent once more as she stands there in the middle of the room quite awkwardly.

"Is there anything in particular you wanted Galinda?" You say softly to her, trying to remain nice. "Dr. Dillamond had a querie on why you both haven't been to class..and being the selfless person that we all know I am, I decided to sacrifice my lesson time to come see where you both have been." She says while staring at you both with a huge smile on her face. You stare at her for a moment before rubbing your forehead, "Galinda, I'm sorry, but surely you can understand why I haven't been too class. Right?" You say in a soft tone to her.

Her eyes widen for a second, and then a small moment of understanding crosses her face. She slowly walks closer to you and pulls you into a big hug, your eyes widen in shock as you notice how a gentle smile has crossed Fiyero's mouth as he sees how much compassion Galinda has for you, more compassion then she has for anyone other than herself. "I understand...and oh my Oz! Do not listen to them." She whispers softly to you.

Galinda breaks the warm embrace between the two of you leaving you still in utter shock, "I will tell Dr. Dillamond that you have caught the ozian sick bug." She says in a gentle tone pulling you into a warm embrace once more until she leaves the room. You slowly walk over to Fiyero collapsing down onto the bed and then you slowly turn your face to meet with his, "what the hell was that?" You say, with a small smile on your face.

Fiyero's hand gently caresses against your soft cheek as your eyes flutter up to meet his, "Galinda is a very confusing girl," He says to you in a soft tone. You adjust yourself and lean on your side next to him, pulling the duvets over the both of you. You smile softly at him as with the two of his hands, he cups your face and gently presses his lips against yours. "I think you need to leave your room and get some fresh air," Fiyero says to you, and a look of fear spreads across your face.

You feel safe in his warmth, "I'm just worried about what everyone's saying about me...about us." You whisper softly to him, his eyes glinting with understanding, "don't listen to them, you have me...I'll be there with you every step of the way." He whispers back to you and squeezes your cheeks and places another soft kiss against your lips. You climb out from the safety and warmth of the duvet, and you throw on some more presentable clothes. Making sure Fiyero wasn't watching.

Fiyero takes your hand and opens your dorm room door. You both take a step forward, leaving the bedroom behind. You take a deep breath, and you both walk into the main area of Shiz Univeristy. All eyes were on you, Galinda notices what everyone is staring at and walks over to you both. She notices how you were holding hands, but after all the judgemental looks, you broke that physical closeness. She gets in between you both and interlocks both yours and Fiyero's arms with hers. "Come sit with me" she says in a soft tone as she walks you both to her table, all the eyes judging you three but especially you.

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