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abbyslovergirlxo · 7 months ago

Text

Same Damn Time

Caitlyn Kiramman x Reader x Ambessa Medarda

tw; Dom!Ambessa, Dom!Caitlyn, sub!reader, rough sex but they’re not so mean towards the end, wlw, sadism (cait/bessa), choking, slapping (everywhere lol), knife usage, blood kink??,masochism (you🫵) , crying, reader has a mouth on her and then folds (typical😒), idk why i made cait psychotic but oh well, oral, degradation, crumbs of praise lmao, ALL SEXUAL INTERACTION IS CONSENSUAL, I am not someone who writes noncon

Word count: 7.8k

… = time skip

a/n; whewww! like what can I even say, this fic is crazy asl. Like I actually think they’re gonna bring back stoning people just for this. Lowkey deserved. But I know there’s someone out there who’s gonna match my freak 😭 i had tooo much fun writing this while listening to the song, made me think of them 😩lots of tw!! so plz read that before scrolling!!! I feel like this is something you’re either really going to love or really going to hate sooo idk. Also I was literally fixated on Sevika/Ambessa and one edit drove me to madness so here we are, getting double teamed by Commander Kiramman and General Merdarda 😩 They’re both evil twins in this but Caitlyn is the more evil twin but no seriously read the tw…. anyways enough of my my rumbling, this fic is long enough lol.

Your ear shot up, body reacting involuntarily to the large grey door opening. Heavy echoing footsteps, hushed whispers, and then a closed door.

“ This is the one?”

The judgemental tone would’ve sent you spiralling, had you been anywhere else. But menacing glares and sharp words would do little for you here. The lights were dim, unfavorably so, only illuminating distinctly right above your chair that you sat in.

Their voices held unyielding authority. Everyone from topside did to be fair but something about these two gave away their status. Their faces were shielded slightly, your eyes squinting in an attempt to see who they were. That attempt was shot down, the small space of darkness they stood in protecting them.

You cursed yourself for not having been smarter that day, faster. For if you had been, you’d never know what the inside of Stillwater’s interrogation room looked like.

“ Yes, General. My enforcers found her near one of Jinx’s old hideouts. From the items that were taken from her we can safely say this one knows something. She knows Jinx. My men attempted to speak to her a couple of days ago but nothing came of it.”

You thought back to the ‘men’ who questioned you, hammered you with prompts that you refused to answer. The bruises on your back proved how badly they wanted to know but you never relented.

“ I don’t know anything.” A lie. A clear one. Both of the women ignored you, tossing back and forth bits of information. You tugged at the shiny metal cuffs, now wishing you’d taken Vi up on those lock picking lessons. I’m so fucked, you thought to yourself. The room was a bit cold and you weren’t exactly dressed for the occasion when they snatched you. So, somberly you shook a little, giving up on listening to whatever they were saying.

You weren’t going to rat. You knew that much.

Your head was hung when you heard them get closer to you. Not bothering to look up, you heard two chairs groan from being pulled, until they sat down from what you assumed.

“ Name?”

Finally you peered up. Your expression faltered for a second, not expecting the sight in front of you. Their outfits clashed and blended seamlessly all at once. One sat in an all black attire, her long blue hair hanging down. The other was engrossed in clads of gold and red.

Sitting right across from you, they both had menacing glares. Well, the glares you expected. Not quite the faces. Shamefully you imagined seeing them somewhere else, maybe in The Last Drop? The younger, sharp features and pinched eyes, looked at you with a particularly hateful look. That didn’t bother you though, she was as intimidating as the drunk men you’d fought with in the undercity. Pretty though, you thought. The other one was a different story entirely.

She was tall, you could tell from how she towered even sitting down. Something about her was elegant. But she looked dangerous. Growing up it was quite necessary to assess who you could and couldn’t take on, and the moment your eyes locked with hers, you knew. The scars on her face also gave way to what she was capable of. She was a problem, even if her stare wasn’t as heinous as the woman beside her.

“ Name?” She pressed. Her voice was calm but she didn’t look like someone who didn’t know how to raise it.

“ I don’t know anything. I don’t even know who Jinx is.”

The blue haired girl scoffed, clearly unimpressed. Her companion remained analytical of you.

“ You’re a terrible liar.” Her voice came off unforgiving and brutal. You’d be lying (again) if you said you weren’t slightly offended. But you kept a neutral face, ignoring her.

“Listen, this doesn’t have to be rough. How this goes depends entirely on you, you choose. We know you know Jinx. We know that you know something. The information you have is quite important to me,”

The older woman paused for a split second, her stare unwavering and promising. She looked over to the younger one before looking back at you.

“ to us. So we’re leaving this room with something, I can assure you that. But I can also assure you that if you help us, we will help you.”

Her voice was smooth, like wine. Well according to what people say about wine, you’d never had it. She was firm in her words, almost as if she herself knew the power behind her promise. That would’ve reassured you had it not been for the fact that she was after your fucking friends.

You looked between the two of them again, assessing the scene in front of you over and over. You were unimpressed, if you were being honest, something you hadn’t been since these cuffs first touched your wrist. Sure, you could tell they meant business but this was futile as an interrogation tactic.

Good cop, bad cop?

While the older wasn’t exactly nice, you expected a missing eye, pulled nails and burnt skin. What you weren’t expecting was two, unfortunately attractive, topside pigs to do a century old method. If anything they should’ve switched, you thought to yourself.

Maybe then they’d get somewhere.

“ Still don’t know who Jinx is or why I’m here.”

“ You’re lying, again. And protecting a known fanatic and criminal. Tell us where we can find Jinx.”

You furrowed your brows, annoyed with her insults and claims. Who is she to tell you that were lying? Well, you were of course. But regardless, the tone in the blue eyed woman before you made you unsettled.

“ I’m not lying.” You gritted out. “ I’ve been detained wrongfully. You’re wasting your time. I don’t know anything.”

“ Yes, you do.” Her voice was firm, final. You scowled at her, but it was nothing in comparison to how she looked at you. Constantly her jaw flexed, on edge and angry. But she had no right to be angry in your mind, after all you were the one chained to a table being talked at rather than talked to. Secretly you wished for the older woman to speak again, at least she wasn’t such a bitch.

“ Are they your friends? Is that it? Because I promise you that we will find Jinx, it will just be a whole lot messier without your help. I don’t mind that. But I’m sure you will.”

You fought the urge to wipe that domineering tone and look off her face. You’re never going to find Jinx! You’re nothing but a power hungry topsider who doesn’t know the first thing about friends! I’m not telling you shit. Was what you wanted to say. But instead,

“ I don’t know Jinx or whatever else you people plan on asking me. Like I said, you. are. wasting. your. time.”

You put emphasis on each word, tired of repeating yourself. But to your un-satisfaction she rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“ Look… I shouldn’t be here. I can’t give you anything because I don’t kno—“

“ Right.” She cut you off, so obviously tired of your insistent lying, even in the short minutes. “And you’re not an undercity animal.”

“ And you’re not a topside pig.”

In all fairness it came out before you could stop it. You weren’t used to being talked to like this and keeping quiet, it almost came out of pure instinct. But if you were surprised by your words you didn’t show it one bit, a small smile almost playing on your lips.

Her nostrils flared slightly, her breathing elevating. For a moment you thought she’d explode before the other woman spoke.

“ Kiramman.”

You memorized the name, not sure if it’d be useful later once you escaped but just in case. She simply collected herself, nodding at the woman who she called ‘General’. Maybe this is where you went wrong, your natural element slipping out, your ego on its way to arriving.

“ You should learn to control yourself, ya know… during interrogations and such.”

“ Shut your mouth.” It was harsh and whispered. This is when you should’ve stopped but you didn’t.

“ You must be new, since you need a supervisor to help you.”

“ Shut it.”

“ You guys have nothing on me. You’re fucking desperate. I’m n—“

Mistakenly you were so focused on Kiramman that you hadn’t been prepared for the harsh grab of your chin. It was quick, unbelievably fast and that scared you more than anything. The strength of which she used to crush your face also attributed to the pit in your stomach.

“ You’ve chosen miserably.”

Her voice was meaner now, she talked as if you were nothing. Like you were stupid. Instantly you regretted wishing for her presence.

Embarrassingly you struggled against her trying to pry away but it was useless. She effortlessly held you there, your cheeks red with humiliation and anger. You tried to ignore the victorious face planted on Kiramman.

“ She said shut your mouth so you shouldn’t be doing anything but that.”

“ Thought you w-wanted me to talk, which one is it?”

You half expected her to break your jaw or lash out like the woman beside her. Instead she remained calm, eerily calm. Anyone with such strength and patience was someone who got what they wanted. But, you weren’t going to talk, you reminded yourself.

She pulled you closer, not without the rebellious tug from you. Silently she analyzed you, staring into your eyes painstakingly long. You squirmed and averted your gaze. She let you go with a ‘hmph’.

“ She won’t talk, not like this.”

The blue haired girl whipped her head towards her, then back to you, a blue fire blazing in her eyes. From the short time they’d been in the room it was clear the older woman held a higher position, authority oozing from her undoubtedly. But now you noticed something dark about the Kiramman that you should have picked up on before.

She was angry, unreasonably so. There was something constantly threatening to set off inside of her.

“ Everyone talks. There has to be something that’ll make her.”

The General hummed. “ I agree, but not like this. She’s loyal to them and she’s prepared for a cell if not this. She’s attempting to use our anger to distract us. She needs something else.”

The goosebumps from the cold air became accompanied by ones born from anxiety. Your mind went into a dark place, worried you’d never leave Stillwater. What if they starved you? Kept you locked in some cell as your body slowly decayed while you still lived? True fear found its way to you for the first time, the unknown overwhelming.

Kiramman seemed to hold back a sigh, instead taking a moment to actually listen to her superior's words. You couldn’t tell what she was thinking but from the firm nod she let off to the General, you knew it wasn’t in your favor. The grey haired woman stood now, making your heart race. Desperately you tugged at the chain once more, attempting to repeat your overdone line.

“ Look, I really don’t know anything.” Ignored.

The blue haired girl remained seated, leaned back slightly, watching silently as the older woman walked around the table. She walked to you with a certain prowess about her. She was taller than you’d expected, to your dismay. You refused to look at her when she was finally standing beside you, face aimed at the grey table.

You pinched your eyes waiting to be hit, choked maybe, or stabbed if they didn’t mind the mess. Your breathing raised as you tried to silently comfort yourself through whatever pain soon awaited. You held back a flinch when you felt large hands pulling at your chains.

It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. Fuck.

*clink*

You snapped your eyes open, seeing your handcuffs now undone.

“ Stand up.”

You took in a breath, silently grateful that you hadn’t been harmed. You stood now, relieved. At least whatever they were going to do wasn’t happening in the now you thought. You looked towards the giant closed metal door, expecting your arm to be snatched as she led you to your dark cell. But to your surprise she simply spoke again.

“ On the table.”

You looked between the two of them.

You shook your head, not even at them, it just shook. No way in hell were you going to lay down on some metal table while these two psychopaths did whatever they wanted to you. You weren’t exactly happy about the bruises that already resided there, definitely not hoping for extras.

“ …No.”

You hadn’t wished to say it but you couldn’t bring yourself to willingly place your body on that table before they hurt you.

“ You misunderstand the situation. You’ve chosen already. So get on the table.”

You didn’t choose shit. That’s what you wanted to shout, to scream at them until your bones betrayed you. A million emotions rushed through your head, clenching and unclenching your hands. Instead you remained silent and unmoving, your refusal to acknowledge was saying ‘no’ in its own way.

“ Fucking impossible…”

You didn’t even have a moment to react to the words before you were pulled. A grunt left your mouth as your hair was gripped painfully. Anger coursed through you upon seeing the black uniform in your peripheral. You used your now free hands to try and pry her hands from you but she only gripped impossibly tighter, your scalp beginning to burn. She was swifter than you’d imagined she’d be, strong too, grabbing both of your hands with one, pinning them. This somehow was worse than cuffs.

“ Fucki— let me go!”

Ignored. Why did they ignore everything?

“ Where do you want her?”

Her General's eyebrows raised, but you didn’t see surprise. Not even disappointment. Content, maybe? You didn’t put it past her.

“ Let's put her on her back to start.”

She moved without question or affirmation. Irritation was clear across your face now, upset at the stinging that wasn’t letting up on your scalp. But clearly the woman behind you didn’t care, roughly forcing you onto the table. She wasn’t as tall as her companion but she was taller than you and it wasn’t an advantage on your part. The force behind her movements were unsettling, you hadn’t thought she was powerless at first glance, but her grip on you was unnerving compared to what you thought she was capable of.

The cold metal wasn’t welcoming. It felt like a million needles were puncturing your skin causing you to shudder. Your tank top strap had fallen off your shoulder amidst the struggle, close enough to slipping down making you wish your hands were free.

“ Give me her wrist.”

They swiftly transferred your hands, the Generals grip matching hers but you could tell there was more strength to be given behind it. You didn’t want to imagine her really trying to squeeze you. The cuffs you were free from moments ago encased you again, and you didn't miss the two extra notches she clicked causing your bone to shift uncomfortably with the metal. You scowled.

“ It’s too fucking tight.”

Not even a pitied glance, nothing. Ignored. Again. You shifted your wrist again, overwhelmed and upset. And this bitch is still gripping my hair, using her other hand to keep your shoulder on the table casually. So easily, and that made you feel vulnerable, helpless. And your now restrained hands weren’t helping, the slight burn making something in your throat want to creep up but you wouldn’t dare allow it, deciding to instead take it out on them.

“ Let go of my hair, you bi–”

You hissed, the stinging sensation pulsating across your cheek. It wouldn’t leave a bruise but you damn sure felt it.

“ Mind your tongue.”

The General ignored the glare you sent her straight from hell, instead taking off her jacket revealing a dark sleeveless sort of top. You couldn’t begin to imagine or decipher the detailing of it, topsiders always dressed too flashy in your opinion, too stuck up. Her arms were as big as you'd thought. Both being ridiculed with scars.

Then, another sharp crack resounded through the dark room, a quick punishing tug to your scalp. This one would unfortunately leave a bruise. You could tell. You didn’t hiss this time, too stunned, on the verge of groaning from the way she used your hair as a plaything.

“ What she said.”

Kiramman finally let go of your hair, the residue of her strength still pounding through your head. You tried to sit up but she instead used both of her hands to hold you down. With only your legs to move, you kicked but the General shut that down as soon as it started. Effortlessly she used only one hand to keep them pinned down, now looking over you and at Kiramman.

What now? You thought. Cut my skin until I fess up? Break my bones until I don’t have any? Beat me bloody while I lie on this cold table? Are they going to kill me when this is all over, when I don’t say anything? I’m going to die here, aren’t I? I’m going to die and nobody’s gonna know.

It’ll be ok. It’ll be ok. It’ll be ok. I can take it. I can take it.

Eyes suddenly squeezed shut, recited echoes of wishful thinking, a scratchy throat. You braced yourself.

“ Last chance. Tell us where we can find Jinx and I’ll send you back to your cell. Untouched.”

Your voice came out a little exasperated, anxiety and anger laced into it. You kept your eyes shut.

“ I don’t know who Jinx is so I can’t tell you that. I don’t know anything.”

Your shoulder crushed more into the table, pale hands squeezing.

“ You continue to choose stupidity, insolence. No more of that.”

Suddenly the grip on your legs were let go and you opened your eyes. She was still at the head of the table staring down at you. For a moment you considered kicking again but as if she read your mind…

“ Kick me and I will break every bone in your knee.”

Her tone wasn’t intimidating, demeaning absolutely, but not intimidating. The certainty in her voice made you throw away any ideas of using your legs. You liked your knees to say the least. You peered straight up to see an upside version of Kiramman, her long blue hair creating a shadow around her neck, her jawline distinct. Even without seeing her face, only the outline of lips and nose, the anger radiated off her body.

“ What now?”

The General looked over you, straight at her.

“ We’ll need to take her pants off for the next part.”

You and Kiramman spoke at the same time.

“ Wait, what? My pants?” “ Her pants?”

The older woman simply gave a one word reply, meant to supply both of you with a firm answer, ‘yes’.

“ Wait, wait.”

She looked down at you, eyebrows raised.

“ Do you remember something about Jinx? Something you’d like to tell us?”

You listened to the flickering sound coming from the light above you. One by one you let them pop into your head. Jinx, long blue hair and wild face as she hugged you. Vi, stuffing her favorite foodsin your face. Isha, making paper airplanes with you. For a moment you thought a tear might slip but it didn’t. You drew in a shaky breath, ignoring the sting on your wrist.

“ No. I don’t know anything. I just…”

You averted your gaze.

“ Is it going to hurt?”

A stupid question in your mind. No doubt torture hurts. But something in you needed to ask, needing some sort of certainty in what was to come.

“ That depends on you entirely. I’ll give you pain when you give me insolence. But when you give me answers, I’ll give you… ”

She suddenly ghosted a hand over your calf.

“ Relief.”

You shuddered a little, her graze unexpected. But you didn’t dare move your leg, not wanting to test what qualified as a kick to her. You didn’t want to imagine what she meant by relief, because it couldn’t mean that. It couldn’t mean that.

“ How does that sound?”

“ It sounds like I have nothing else to say to you.”

She hummed. Without another word she slipped her large hands in your waistband, pulling them down to your ankles. You wanted them back the second your bare thigh touched the cold metal. A click echoed and you looked to see a blade in her hand, small in size but formidable in design. Gold snakes seemed to embroider its handle. You sucked in a harsh breath at the sight, your eyes locked on it.

Your eyes flicked up at the blue haired woman, her position now changed so that you could see her face again. Her eyes almost beamed? For the first time an expression other than anger displayed itself on her features. Now she looked almost… pleased. Excited.

It’ll be ok. It’ll be ok. I can take it. I can take it. I can take it. Hopefully.

You ignored the last words, watching as the General kept her eyes trained on your plump thighs. Opening them, she traced it right on the inside of it. Immediately you could tell it was sharp. Too sharp. It was cold against your skin, not as harsh as the table but unforgiving nonetheless. Anticipation rushed through you. Hands clenched within its restraints, the light flickering and flickering, her soft hands on your shoulder, icy metal on your skin, her hand slipping onto your thigh and then….

“ Ngnh!”

Your head pressed into the metal slightly. You’d have been embarrassed by your whimper if it wasn’t for the sudden warm drip down your thigh. Blood, you assumed. You’d been through worse but you still squirmed at the cut now adorned on your skin. She pushed down on your thigh, not fond of your squirming. Then she continued, tracing the blade across your thigh, waiting until your body finally relaxed, stopping itself from that state of bracing. And right when you did, she’d swipe a quick line across your shaky, burning legs. Always between your thighs, always.

It felt like electricity was rushing through you, it was all so overwhelming. You felt like you were being swallowed alive and they had barely done anything. The cuts burned and sent a rush of pain through your nerves and skin. Everytime you looked at Kiramman her face was becoming alive with intoxication. It’s like she couldn’t pull her eyes away, trained on the way your leg wobbled under her General’s hand, how you whimpered lowly, the light trace of blood on the expensive blade. You jolted again, particularly harder this time.

“ Relax. It's just a little cut, you're a big girl.”

It continued like this. You tried your best to stifle the whimpers coming from your mouth. The last thing you wanted was for them to hear what they were doing to you. Over and over she painted your thighs with your own crimson, and it hurt. It hurt, it did. And that's all it should be.

But your stomach kept getting that feeling. It burned, like the surface level cuts she gave you. It burned every time her calloused finger swiped across your sliced skin, collecting blood. It burned when she smiled suddenly, as if proud of her work. And it was scalding when you looked up and saw those blue eyes entranced. But it wasn’t pain. It wasn’t…anger. It was something else. Something that made you want to release that feeling in your throat, made you wish she meant something ungodly when she offered relief.

“ What's this?”

Your skin was hot to the touch now, sweaty. Trembling slightly, you looked up at her. For a moment you couldn’t begin to imagine what she was referring to until you traced her eyes. You silently prayed that it wasn’t what you thought. But from the way she asked, you knew.

“ What is it?”

Kiramman asked, curiosity clear in her voice. The older woman smirked, staring down at the wet spot in your panties.

“ It seems her body is more honest than she is. I think our little prisoner likes this. Her panties say so at least.”

Your face burned so hot that it rivaled the sun itself. You considered saying something, protesting and denying it. But what was the point? It did feel good, the burn felt good. And she had the evidence right in front of her. You couldn’t meet either of their gazes, looking to the side in shame. Kiramman laughed, the vibrations reaching you through her touch.

“ I knew it, she was whimpering like a dog. Isn’t that right?”

You shook your head, still refusing to look. But she wasn’t having it, using one of her hands to pull your chin. Even upside down, she looked menacing. She forced eye contact. Her face was rampant with mocking undertones, sadistic glares.

“ Is that why you’ve been so rude? You wanted us to give you a little pain, show you a good time? You really are pathetic.”

“ That’s not tr– n-ngh!”

A stinging pain after a quick slap to your clothed cunt made you whimper louder than anytime the blade touched you. It felt like a live wire tapping your skin, your legs snapping shut. The wet spot in your panties grew, your breathing uneven.

“ Insolence. Tell the truth.”

I can’t. You thought. Telling them that you’d enjoyed it, even a tiny bit, seemed more daunting suddenly than ratting.

“ I’m not ly– f-fuck…”

You weren’t sure if you’d ever be allowed to finish a sentence, her hand opening your legs followed by another slap coming down. Your eyes fluttered for a moment, your face squeezing with pain and pleasure. Kiramman used the hand she never removed to guide you. A smile was now on her lips, wide with genuine amusement.

“ Oh god, did you just… moan? You really are something aren’t you? Is that what it’s going to take? A few more slaps to your cunt and you’ll be blabbering? Or maybe…”

She lowered herself, close enough that her hair brushed against your face. You whined again, another unsuspecting smack from the older woman. You hadn’t even done anything, she just liked the way your panties got damper with each hit. Kiramman almost thanked her for it, relishing in hearing the noise even closer. She whispered to you.

“ If I make you cum enough times you’ll remember something. I bet you’d like that, letting a… what was it that you called me…a topside pig make your cunt cry?”

Finally, you gave way to the ache in your throat. A tear fell down your face suddenly. Another burning sensation forming in your stomach at the feeling of the General toying with the rim of your panties.

“ Please…”

It was quiet, almost matching the decibels of the wind. But you knew she’d heard it. It was obvious from how her grin widened, her eyes looking like ones of a deranged woman.

“ Please what? Please…make me cum? Please…let me go? Please fucking what?”

In this small moment of time, you almost felt like you were watching your dignity physically leave your body. You imagined telling her to let you go, that you didn’t know anything and a few cuts to your legs wasn’t going to change that. And you considered it, over and over. Then something played in your mind, a sick fantasy woven in desperation. In it, you asked her what you really wanted to. And in it they kissed you until you couldn’t breathe, made you finish until you didn’t know how to walk. You considered both. But only one of them made your core ache with desire. Your eyes were even glossier now. Suddenly you were working yourself up for a new kind of courage.

I can take it. I can take it. I can take it.

“ Make me cum please.”

“ Please who?”

I can take it.

“ Please, Kiramman.”

“ That’s it. Finally something coming out of your mouth other than horseshit. But you still need some manners…”

The grip that had left your ears ringing suddenly came back, her pale fingers peeking through your hair. She pulled your head up, forcing you to look at the General. You groaned, arms thrashing slightly, the sting of the metal never relenting.

“ I’m not the only one here. Go ahead, ask General Merdarda too.”

You gritted your teeth. This was already humiliating, and she was just reveling in it. Your legs were already spread, panties damp, dried crimson on your skin, hands bound above your stomach. You’d already asked, multiple times. And now you had to say it again, with a death-like grip on your hair and those hazel eyes peering at you, awaiting.

“ …but I already asked y—“

The slap was even stronger this time , the force of it driving your body insane. Merdarda grinned at you, even laughing a little at the noise you made. Another tear fell down your cheek but Kiramman was quick to wipe it. Right before she licked her finger.

“ But you didn’t ask me.”

If she slapped your cunt again you’d probably start grinding against the table, somehow making you look more pathetic than you do right now. So you gave in.

“ P-Please General Merdarda, will…”

I’m never speaking about this if I get out of here.

“…Will you please make me cum?”

“ Well would you look at that, that’s all you had to say little one. But what do we get in return? Surely you can’t expect us to make you cum with nothing given back.”

“ …But…I already said I don’t know anything.”

Kiramman scoffed.

“ Even after you soak your panties from a little cut, you still have the ability to lie. I’m almost impressed.”

She let your head drop back onto the table.

“ Almost.”

….

For a second you thought she’d kiss them.

At first glance it seemed so, her soft lips trailed over the red raised wounds, her nose spilling cold air on them. You reveled in it, an ember threatening to go a blaze within you. That was until she nipped at it, a hiss leaving your mouth. You couldn’t see her smile but you felt it sweeping across the throbbing skin. You cursed under your breath, the force behind her bite growing more rabid. She slapped the thigh she wasn’t ravaging, quick and harsh.

“ You like that, don’t you?”

There that voice was again, smooth and sultry. You weren’t sure if she was referencing the strike on your leg or her roaming fingers but murmured yes anyway. Yes to all of it. She had your shirt hitched up, breast exposed. Every once and awhile she’d toy with them, trace an outline around your nipple, wait and then pinch. So often though she found herself distracted, your features giving away how desperate you were.

Merdarda found enjoyment in watching your contort every time Kiramman did something to you, anything to you really. You were like a tight coiled spring, threatening to snap at any given moment. It's like every touch has you ready to risk everything. And you learned quickly they were into this a little more than you, mania clear across their faces. You were trembling, Kiramman taking advantage of how sensitive your legs were.

“ C’mere.”

You felt a little dizzy, seeing her lift her head up from between your legs. She grabbed your cuffed hands, pulling you up to meet her face. It all happened so fast and you winced from the strain in your shoulders. She was closer now and it was just now that you noticed the traces of blood on her lips. You hadn’t expected a kiss this time around, but it happened. It wasn’t gentle, if anything it felt like she was trying to cannibalize you with her tongue. Shamefully you pushed against her, sick to your stomach at how good she tasted. Hints of copper on your tastebuds, her wandering hands. She pulled back, being sure to bite your lip before doing so.

“ You taste that? It’s you.”

She dropped her eyes to your thighs, licking over her lips once more. A trance almost seemed to describe the hunger behind her stare, but you couldn’t be sure. You didn’t care either way, you just wanted her to do whatever was on her mind to you and soon.

“ fucking delicious.”

The whispered lust in her voice rivaled the reaction brought out from Medardas heavy hands.

“ You should taste her General. She’s sweeter than that filthy mouth of hers.”

Wordlessly, she captured your lips next. Her movements were more experienced, methodical and you felt as though you melted into her due to it. Ruby lipstick smeared onto you, a groan slipping from her as she made sure to taste everything you had to offer. The metallic tinge on her tongue made her pull in deeper. You whimpered, dizzy from lack of breath and insatiable roaming hands.By the time she pulled away your eyes were low, an unfocused look about you.

“ I wonder if her cunt tastes even better.”

Kiramman smiled sickly to herself, her gapped teeth giving you a warm tinge to your cheek.

“ We’ll know soon enough.”

….

Your wrist were nearly rubbed raw with all the thrashing you were doing. Time and time again you made attempts to close those abused legs of yours, in hopes of protecting your cunt. Unfortunately, Kiramman wasn’t pleased and she slapped it raw until you cried enough apologies. She mumbled something along the lines of ‘can’t be stupid and greedy’. But you somehow continued to be prove to be both, whining endlessly about the torture of her tongue. She never let up though, only unlatching from you to say obscene things or mark up your poor legs.

It seemed the pair held similar views, sick desires. Medarda would litter your neck and breast with purple marks shamelessly. She smelled of some expensive plant you’d never heard of, all you knew was that it made you whimper everytime her skin was pressed onto yours. She’d whisper siren-like words to you, etched in sin, rough kisses between them all. And yet you drank them into your ears like milk and honey.

“ You just came, didn’t you? Nasty girl.”

“ Do you remember anything now, hm?”

“ Don’t be so dramatic, keep your legs open for her.”

“ You must spread yourself open often. You’re a natural.”

“ Your cunts almost as noisy as you, dear.”

And when her tongue wasn’t making you drip onto the table, Kirammans words were just as wicked, if not more. Her posh accent was a coverup for all the nefarious things laced into it. A very, very poor coverup.

“ I said— keep. them. open. Unless you need a second pair of cuffs? … No? Then fucking listen.”

“ Go on, you can cry. I know it feels good. Yes filthy girl…just like that. ”

“ You’ve made a mess. Say you're sorry.”

“ Quit it, you can get a break when you remember something.”

“ Don’t act so sweet now— had quite a lot to say earlier. Isn’t that right?”

This was wrong, every bit of it. There was nothing exactly right about two high ranking officers of Piltover and Noxus eating you alive in the depths of Stillwater. The thought alone should send you running. It should have you drinking hot flashes of anger, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. But it didn’t. It only made you spread your legs wider and beg shamefully for more kisses.

It all felt so good. They felt so good and a redeemable, rational part of you hated that. But every time rationality tried to sink itself into you, Commander Kiramman and General Merdarda were right there to sink into you faster. And by god, they made you feel more full than any morale.

You were so sure you were going to die before. And that thought that hadn’t been removed just yet, except now you thought you’d pass away from all the onslaught orgasms caused by the ravenous women beside and inside you.

“ a—angh! oh god…pl–please”

Kiramman held back a sly smile, seeing the way you twitched, body so sensitive. Her fingers were drenched with you, now gloveless. Initially her signature black gloves dug inside of you but the minute she tasted you she knew she didn’t want it anywhere but on her skin. Quite roughly, she had pulled three orgasms, somehow each one more intense than the last. But that wasn’t enough, not to them. Nothing was enough until those pretty lips whimpered something they could actually report back. And even then she wasn’t sure she’d want to stop.

“ Are you going to make a mess again for us?”

Pathetically, you fought back the white of your eyes before looking down at her. She couldn’t help but grip your thighs tighter at your teary face, nodding exhaustingly down at her. Medarda kept you slightly upright, your back arching into her bicep while she sucked on your breast. Honestly she hadn’t a clue how long she’d been at it but by the rate she was going you’d look a fucked out mosaic by the time they were done. She laughed to herself but you knew it was at you. And that fact only made you rut against the table more.

“ This is going to be your fourth one dear. We’re never going to leave this room if you keep being so stubborn.”

She trailed her kisses up your chest. A peck here and a peck there. The slow ascend of her affections compared to the rapid thrust of the others fingers made you bite your lip, the skin pulling between your teeth. By the time she was up to your ear you were practically panting.

“ Or is that what you want? For us to keep making you cry until you can’t anymore?”

They’d never know it and thank god for that but you almost whispered a yes.

Kiramman couldn’t hear what was spoken but she definitely felt it. You clenched around her even harder, a long mewl spilling from you. She creased her blue brows slightly as she sped up her fingers, making sure to never be gentle with that special spot, secretly itching to hear just how loud you could get whenever you came. Her counterpart was just as wanting for it out of you, a more balanced desire about her. Even in spite of the way she pulled you in for another kiss when she heard you sob, “ ‘m s-so close..”

This time Kiramman both felt and heard it, her fingers happily accepting the tight squeeze of you. She latched back onto your clit which was practically begging to be consumed again, if you asked her. Immediately you tensed, using every ounce of self restraint to not slam her cheeks with your legs. It also got devastatingly hard to keep up with Medarda’s mouth, she pressed into you like she forgot you needed air, like you only needed them. And as the coil in your belly grew and the sloppy sounds of her eating away filled the room, you did need them.

A muffled moan ricocheted into Merdarda and she invited it wholeheartedly. When she finally pulled away, you used your bound hands to grab at her hand groping you. You squeezed it the second you felt Kiramman offer a grunt inside of your cunt. She licked you like she was rabid, lost in whatever drugs your pussy clearly had laced in it. Merdarda found it all so nasty, so amusing. Seeing the renowned Caitlyn Kiramman so cruel but so feral, and you with your slick mouth gone and lips swollen, made her clench around nothing.

Even if nobody in the room spoke it, you were all enjoying this ‘interrogation’ a little too much. That manic laughter that constantly filled Kirammans head, those stupid pigtails and flashy gadgets, had even subsided for a moment. She still wanted nothing more than to rip that smile off her face, but the way the tears journeyed down your face so easily made her want something more.

Right now all she wanted was for you to cum on her face, and she nearly keeled over when she finally heard you sing that song for her. A moan that could only be replicated in the best whorehouses of Zaun left you. The pair both smiled the moment they heard you whimper what they already knew.

“ i th—‘m gonn—“

You could barely manage a single word, back practically ingraining itself in her arm the way you arched over it.

“ Let it out, make a mess.”

Your body truly was more honest than you and clearly obedient because the second she said it you did. Your self restraint abandoned you, left you on that table shaking and crying. Your bruised legs kissed her cheeks (not so gently) as she ate and thrusted at the same pace she did before, never letting up. Even with your legs shaking and around her she just drove in deeper. The pleasure slipped into overdrive making you shake your head, trying your best to pull away, use your hands, anything to make her stop. But Merdarda snatched your cuffed hands.

“ kira—kirammannn!”

Wow, that’s the only time she’s heard her last name and wanted to hear it more. But she ignored you, knowing you were begging for her to stop. By now your legs had dropped, too weak to hold up. Your whole body practically vibrated as you lost your breath. Maybe it was the burning sensation ripping through you or the cotton in your head but you stupidly turned your head to look up at Medarda.

“ help…me…gonna fu— die!”

First she looked at you, toyed with your nipple as your hands fought against hers. So pretty and so pathetic, she thought. Then looked down at Kiramman, whose eyes now opened and met hers. An amused glint was in her blue tinted stare and suddenly Medarda couldn’t think of a single reason she’d help you.

“ She’s eating child, don’t be so rude. Have some manners.”

She was looking at you when she said it, but from the mockery in her tone you knew it was meant for more than just you. And it was confirmed when a smile traced itself onto your throbbing cunt. But it quickly went away. She was eating after all.

“ i canttt! pleasee!”

Kiramman didn’t stop until you went silent, unable to speak, inconsistent babbles of nonsense here and there. You weren’t even shaking now, just twitching and breathing like the oxygen in the room had been sucked out. When she finally got up from between your legs she couldn’t help herself and gave two quick bites. A strangle mix of a hiss and moan could be heard as you watched her stand. She lifted her fingers to your mouth, shoving them inside.

You expected her to be rough and jam them down your throat but to your surprise she simply swirled them around your mouth. Despite that voice in your head you sucked at them tiredly hoping to please them. And pleased they were. They both watched as you weakly licked her fingers clean. By the time she pulled away they both knew that previous orgasm just couldn’t be the last.

“ Do you remember anything now?”

You were fucked out, but not that fucked out.

“…no”

Thank god, they both thought in unison.

“ I guess it’s my turn then.”

…

BONUS

Kiramman walked with pure candor on her face. She heard the whispers as she walked past but she ignored them. What was the point in entertaining fools? Besides, the moment her eyes met theirs they always went silent. Always. Today hadn’t been the best day for her. Most days weren’t, hunting for that psycho and her friends wasn’t an easy job or a fun one. But she wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Well…maybe someone else…

“ Don’t let anyone in.”

The guard nodded dutifully.

By the time she reached the room, she was already imagining her sweet song. She didn’t have to wait long to hear it in person because it was practically blasting throughout the room the moment the door opened. She closed the door behind her, smiling deviously as she placed her heavy cape onto the chair.

“ She’s even wetter today, if you can believe it.”

She laughed softly, “ Oh I can believe it. How many has she got so far?”

“ Just two. Don’t worry, you didn’t take too long.”

“ God, I know. I got caught up with that fool Salo.”

Medarda laughed now, knowing all too well how annoying he could be.

“ medardaaa”

Your toes curled, struggling to handle the two large fingers inside of you. Both were devastatingly skilled with their fingers but hers were undoubtedly bigger. Way bigger. And if the size wasn’t agonizing enough, she was hitting that spot over and over. This time your hands were free, and you used them to grip her bicep.

Suddenly your throat had a new necklace. Not a very nice one. She squeezed her free hand around your throat, speeding her fingers. Clearly she wasn’t a fan of your interruption, despite the way her cunt ached when she heard her name in such a filthy way.

“ Can’t you see us talking? And you didn’t even greet your Commander. She came all this way to see you.”

You thought you were going to pass out, the squelching sounds and sultry insults becoming distant. Your mind and body gave into her once the resisting clearly wasn’t doing anything. And you loved it. Each filthy posh coated word, lingering touch, rushed collided lips left you undone. The strength behind their hands made you want to never be without it. And for the past two weeks it continued to, leaving you right here in this room on this desk, unable to breath, only able to cry and spread your legs wider.

Medarda let go, allowing Kiramman to finally slip beside you. As much as she loved the song you offered, she wanted your lips. You gasped into her, them giving you no time to actually catch a breath between the transfer. Lightheaded, you still pushed against her, wetness dripping from your face to hers. She pulled away, licked the rogue tear from the corner of your mouth.

By the time she was looking at you, you were heaving, clasping onto her bicep instead of Medardas now. She watched with such marvel as your face contorted into those beautiful expressions, such a drastic difference from the stupid girl she interrogated. Logically she knew she couldn’t call what all of you were doing an interrogation. So she opted to saying ‘some investigating work’ the few times someone inquired about her abrupt departures. It wasn’t a complete lie, her and Medarda were investigating something every couple of days. your cunt

Her gaze traced to the brown fingers moving in and out of you, then to glisten on her General's hand and finally to your thighs. They were healing nicely. Unfortunately for her they wouldn’t leave a scar according to the doctor she took you to. She almost frowned at the thought.

But then she heard you whisper a quick, “ h-hi Kiramman…”

She smiled at you, a warm thought coming to her.

“ Hi, filthy girl.”

We’ll make sure they scar next time.

P.s. They had the officers who beat you killed 😜

2K notes · View notes

velaenam · 3 months ago

Text

𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬

◦ ♡

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – non!mc. you said you were happy with your boyfriend ,then caleb came home, and now his mouth is on your neck. 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 – NSFW (18+!!) dirty...nasty!!! RAW!! smut!!!, smut w/ alcohol (dubcon), reader cheating on bf w/ LI, caleb is the other man, swearing, mature languages, sexual themes, riding, creampie,raw doggy blah blah, p to v, internal conflict from reader 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 – not proofread. THIS HAS EXHAUSTED ME. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 1 POST BUT TUMBLR HATES ME. ENJOY THIS PURE SMUT CHAPTER. ITS FILTHY. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 2 of idk ! previous chapter / next chapter — reblogs comments & likes are appreciated. let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

you unlock the front door with one hand, your work bag sliding off your shoulder as you step into the apartment. the lights are low—too low. it’s quiet. unusually quiet.

you frown, closing the door behind you. “adrien?”

no answer.

you toe off your shoes, drop your keys into the tray by the door. the living room is dark except for the faint flicker of candlelight—just a few, scattered along the edge of the table, casting gold shadows up the wall.

your pulse stirs uneasily. “hello?”

and then—

“surprise!”

the lights flick on all at once, flooding the room in warm brightness. a chorus of voices greets you—familiar, loud, laughing. confetti bursts from somewhere near the kitchen. m.c. is already walking toward you, glass in hand, eyes glittering with mischief.

you freeze.

adrien’s behind her, beaming. “you didn’t think we’d let your mood go unchecked forever, did you?”

nero lifts a drink in your direction. “you’re officially too hot and too successful to be sad.”

tara’s already shoving a sparkly cocktail into your hand. “drink first, process later.”

m.c. pulls you into a hug before you can even reply. “we love you. you don’t have to be okay all the time. just… be here with us tonight, yeah?”

your chest tightens, too full to speak.

adrien’s at your side next, one hand at the small of your back, steady, warm. “you deserve something good,” he murmurs against your ear. “and if it has to be flaming alcohol and obnoxious friends—so be it.”

you manage a breathless smile, looking around the room at the faces that have never left you. the table is piled with food. the playlist is perfect. candles line the corners like constellations.

and then, from the kitchen— you see him. caleb.

leaning against the counter with a glass in hand, that same quiet posture, dressed in black, eyes already on you.

your breath catches. adrien leans in again, oblivious. “and we even got your favorite drink. imported.”

you blink slowly. flamefruit. you don’t even like this shit.

it burns going down, but it’s sweet after. you don’t say a word. you just step into the party.

and pretend your world hasn’t tilted just a little further off its axis.

the night unravels in a blur of glittering glasses and warm laughter. someone plays music too loud. someone opens the flamefruit and starts to drink it with no chasers. nero starts an impromptu drinking game that ends with m.c. and tara collapsed on the couch, wheezing laughter into the same throw pillow. xavier serenades the hallway mirror.

adrien’s glowing—arm around you, beaming, flushed with joy and wine. he’s so happy, so in love, and for a while, you let yourself drift in it.

until you’re not sure how you ended up here.

the house is quieter now, softer around the edges. your hand’s still wrapped around a half-empty glass, fingers a little clumsy. the hall light is off, but the door to adrien’s study is cracked open, the faint blue glow of one of his digital screens still pulsing gently inside.

you don’t mean to walk in.

you just… drift.

the door creaks a little as you push it open.

and there it is.

his desk.

clean, meticulous. dark wood polished smooth. the faint scent of his cologne lingers in the air—cedar and something more expensive beneath. his tablet is powered down, his stylus perfectly aligned. everything where it should be. orderly. safe.

you stare at it.

tipsy and slow, heart pounding harder than it should.

this is where he works. where he plans the future you’re supposed to build together. where he makes decisions about cities, people, the empire of his name—and you.

this is where he probably looked up engagement rings.

you lower your glass onto the edge of the desk.

and for a long moment, you just stand there.

like you’re waiting for something to make sense.

behind you, a soft shuffle. then a familiar voice, low and wrecked with restraint.

“you shouldn’t be in here.”

you turn.

caleb is leaning in the doorway, shirt half-untucked, eyes glassy but still clear enough to pin you in place.

he steps inside, slow. controlled.

but you can feel it—how close the edge really is.

his eyes flick to the glass you left on the desk, then back to you. he shuts the door behind him without a sound.

“funny,” he murmurs, voice low, thick with smoke and wine. “of all the rooms in this perfect little house… you ended up in his.”

you swallow.

he walks toward you, slow and deliberate, every movement soaked in intention. not touching—but close enough that your breath trembles.

“you staring at his chair for a reason?” he asks, one brow lifted, eyes never leaving yours. “planning your future in his office? wondering how it feels to sit in the middle of all that power?”

you don’t answer.

you can’t.

he leans just slightly, one hand bracing on the edge of the desk beside you. his voice drops further. “or maybe you came in here looking for something you weren’t ready to admit.”

his gaze drags down—over your mouth, your throat, the way your hands are clenched into the fabric of your dress. “you’re flushed.”

“flamefruit,” you manage.

he smirks. “sure.”

you can feel the heat rolling off him, the quiet weight of his want simmering just beneath the surface. he brings his mouth close—not touching—but you can feel the shape of his words against your skin.

“you know what the worst part is?” he says, soft and dangerous. “i’ve been good. so good. standing across from you all night pretending i don’t remember what you sound like when you moan.”

your breath stutters. your fingers tighten on the desk behind you.

“but i do,” he says. “and you do too. don’t you?”

he’s so close you can smell him—warm skin and faint sweat and the ghost of something expensive and sharp.

he shifts, gaze catching on the edge of your lip, the column of your throat. “he built this room for control,” he murmurs. “and here you are—shaking in it.”

he shifts behind you, the room warm with breath and liquor and history. the desk presses into your hips, polished wood slick under your palms. his chest is at your back now, broad and solid, his body boxing you in like you were meant to belong here—like he was.

you don’t remember when he touched you.

hes got you bent over the desk your boyfriend so religiously used as his safe haven of when he’d cower against his many business modules. his fingers digging into your side— his breathing tickling your ear like music unable to dissipate from your heart. his other hand caressing the slip of your skirt as he pulls you closer with his manipulation.

“tell me to stop.” a pause

caleb’s hand slides down, caressing the hem of your skirt. dragging it higher this time, pulling you closer with a kind of practiced cruelty that makes your chest squeeze and your knees shake.

his lips barely graze your ear. his voice breaks the silence like a blade sheathed in silk.

“tell me to stop.”

again.

his fingers don’t wait long.

they slip under the hem of your skirt, slow at first, teasing the edge of your thigh like he’s testing just how far you’ll let him go. his breath stays hot at your ear, but his mouth doesn’t move now—he’s waiting. watching.

you should say something.

his hand traces upward, palm dragging across your skin until his fingers find the edge of your panties. they rest there for half a second, still—like he’s giving you one final chance to pull away.

you don’t move.

and so he continues.

his fingertips slide under the delicate fabric, brushing soft and purposeful. a quiet, devastating stroke that makes your whole body lock against the desk, your moan veiled in secrecy. you felt his fingers go in between your folds, suddenly so slick and coated. it’s not rushed. it’s not rough. it’s just intentional—every movement designed to make you feel like you’re unraveling one nerve at a time.

his other hand stays firm on your waist, fingers curled tight into your side like he’s anchoring himself to the moment, or maybe to you. your breath stutters—sharp and trembling—and he exhales low, almost a growl.

“you’re already soaked,” he mutters, voice rough now, mouth dragging along your temple. “and i haven’t even kissed you yet.”

he presses in closer, hips against the back of your skirt, hand still working slow, measured strokes. there’s no rush. no hesitation.

just him—and the way he’s studying your every reaction like a man starved.

his fingers never stop.

they move in slow, devastating circles beneath the fabric, dragging slick heat through your nerves until your breath is shaking and your hands are gripping the desk like it’s the only thing tethering you to this world.

then he shifts.

his palm flattens against your hip, fingers curling under the band of your panties—not just touching now, but claiming. he drags the fabric down with maddening slowness, inch by inch, until it slips past the swell of your thighs and falls loose around your knees.

his other hand moves with him—hooking into the hem of your skirt and sliding it higher, up over your hips, over the arch of your lower back, until you feel the cool air hit bare skin and realize—

you’re completely exposed to him— and he’s right there.

you feel him before you see him—dick hard and straining against the fabric of his pants, pressing against the curve of your ass like gravity’s pulling him toward you. not grinding. not rushing.

just there.

thick heat and tension and everything unsaid, resting at the very edge of control.

his breath comes harder now, his chest rising behind you, and the hand that had steadied your waist slips forward—bold and possessive, curling around your front, groping you with an ache that borders on reverence.

he leans down, lips brushing the curve of your shoulder.

“still want me to stop?” he whispers, rough and hungry.

your knees nearly give out.

you don’t answer him—not with words.

instead, your hips shift back, slow and intentional, pressing into the hard line of him behind you.

the sound he makes is low and guttural—half groan, half curse—and it hits you like a spark behind your ribs. his hand tightens on your waist. you feel him falter for the first time, breath catching as he presses in harder, the fabric of his pants rough against your skin.

his fingers fumble at his waistband, sharp and uncoordinated with urgency. you hear the soft drag of his zipper, the hitch in his breath as he frees himself—and then his body finds yours again, the heat of him suddenly there, bare, dragging across your skin. you didn’t have to see how big he was. his thickness laid on your bare ass cheek.

he doesn’t push in though— not yet.

he shifts his hips, letting his tip glide over you in slow, devastating passes, teasing, testing—coaxing your body into submission without force.

his voice is gravel against your ear. “you’re not going to say it, huh?” his breath hits your neck, lips hovering. “you’re not going to tell me to stop.”

another slow roll of his hips, the pressure sending your breath spiraling.

“then i’m going to take what’s mine,” he murmurs. “slow. deep. until you remember who made you feel this way first.”

you clutch the desk tighter, legs trembling.

he grinds the head of himself along the ache of you again—so close now, so slow, and still not in.

his mouth finds the shell of your ear again. “you’re not leaving this room the same.”

your breath hitches—and then you move.

slow, deliberate, trembling with want.

you push your hips back into him, grinding against the thick weight of him until he slips past the edge, forcing him inside in one sudden, desperate motion.

he gasps—loud, raw—and his hands seize your hips like he’s about to lose his grip on reality. his body stiffens behind you, forehead dropping to your shoulder, a strained, broken sound escaping his throat.

“fuck—” he hisses, voice strained and wrecked.

you feel it—the way he fills you, the way your body welcomes him like it was always meant to. heat, stretch, pressure, home. it’s dizzying. dangerous. you were stunned by how fat his dick was. how thick it felt, how long it was. you grasped at air, gripping the desk for dear life.

his fingers dig into your skin as he tries to steady himself, tries to hold back.

“you—” his voice cracks. “you can’t just—do that.”

but he doesn’t move away, he sinks a little deeper instead.

his breath comes hot and heavy against your neck, jaw clenched, every inch of him trembling with restraint. “almost came just now,” he mutters, teeth grazing your skin. “fuck.”

you bite your lip to keep quiet, to keep still.

but he feels it—all of it.

“you’re going to ruin me,” he growls.

his hips twitch, his control slips, and everything spirals tighter.

his hands are still trembling. you can feel it—in the way he grips your hips, the way his fingers flex like he’s barely holding himself back from slamming into you, from giving in completely.

his breath is ragged against your neck, body trembling with the need to move.

but he waits. he pulls back—just an inch—then slides forward again, slower this time, letting you feel every deliberate, overwhelming inch of him as he buries himself deeper.

you gasp. and that sound—it shatters something in him.

his mouth finds the curve of your shoulder, voice rough and breathless.

“you belong to me.”

he thrusts again, deeper, harder. your knees buckle.

“say it,” he growls, voice sharp at the edges, like he’s not asking. “say it, or i’ll keep fucking you like this until you do.”

your head spins. his rhythm builds—steady, consuming, every thrust dragging a broken sound from your throat.

he grips your waist tighter, pulling you back into him like he can’t get close enough, like the desk between you and the world is the only thing keeping this from setting the room on fire.

“look at you,” he breathes. “being a mess for me already.”

his hand moves, sliding down between your thighs, his touch precise, ruthless, loving. your body jerks.

“you’re so good—” he groans, teeth gritting. “so good taking my dick so easily. like your body was made for me.”

your name breaks off his tongue like a prayer and a curse in one. he leans in closer, one hand tangled in your hair, voice dropping to a snarl.

“he can’t fuck you like i can. you know that. you feel that.”

your nails dig into the wood. he moves faster now, chasing the edge you’re both hurtling toward.

but even through the pleasure—every broken breath, every soaked heartbeat—you feel the weight of something else beneath it.

not just lust, claim, history. and the fear that maybe this has never stopped being love.

you don’t mean to say it.

but it slips out—cracked, breathless, soaked in surrender.

“caleb…”

his name breaks from your lips like it’s always been meant for him—like you’ve spent years holding it back, and now it rushes out too fast, too full.

and it snaps something in him.

he growls—deep and low in his chest—before pulling out suddenly and grabbing your waist with both hands. you gasp, too stunned to move, but he’s already turning you, spinning you to face him.

your back hits the desk with a thud, papers scattering, your breath catching in your throat. he shoves everything aside—your glass, a stylus, notes you never read—and lifts you onto the edge like you weigh nothing.

“wrap your legs around me,” he orders, voice wrecked.

you do it without thinking, locking your ankles behind his back as he yanks your hips flush to his.

he’s bare, flushed, violet pupils blown wide with need—but even through the haze of desire, there’s something fierce, almost angry in his expression.

he thrusts into you again, deeper this time—deliberate, unforgiving.

you cry out—his name again, half-formed.

his hand curls under your chin, forcing your gaze up, holding your face steady with startling tenderness.

“you’re going to look at me when you cum for me,” he growls. “no more hiding. no more pretending.”

his hips drive into you hard, and your body responds without permission—arching, clinging, unraveling.

“say my name again,” he demands, panting his hands gripping your face steadily, but still lovingly— gently, “i want to hear you fall apart on it.”

you try to hold on. but you can’t. you cry out his name. because it’s him. and, you’ve always belonged to him.

he leans in, chest flush to yours, catching your mouth in a kiss that’s all tongue and breath and hunger. it’s messy—raw, unrestrained—his lips crashing against yours as he moves inside you, relentless, each thrust harder than the last.

the desk groans beneath the force of it—wood scraping slightly across the floor, your spine arched back, legs wrapped tighter around him just to keep from sliding off. your arms tangle around his neck, holding him there, holding yourself together.

his mouth drags down your jaw, to your throat, to the hollow beneath your ear. each word is a shudder, a growl, a confession you were never supposed to hear.

“you feel so fucking good,” he pants with each thrust, “tight around me—perfect.”

your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails scraping over fabric, skin, anything to hold onto.

“i should’ve never let anyone else touch you,” he whispers, breath hot and broken. “this—this is mine. you’re mine.”

his hips slam forward again and again, dragging you closer to the edge. the wet sound of your bodies moving, the ragged slap of skin on skin, fills the room.

“you like this, don’t you?” he murmurs, filthy and soft at your ear. “being ruined in his office. bent over his desk while i make you fall apart.”

you whimper, his name escaping again, and he swallows it in a kiss.

“i want to fill you up,” he groans, losing rhythm for a second as he pulses deep inside. “want you dripping with me—full of me—so you remember every time you look at him who you let inside you first.”

your body trembles—so close, so close—

and caleb feels it. he knows.

“you’re gonna cum for me, baby,” he rasps, forehead pressed to yours. “you’re gonna look me in the eyes and fucking break.”

he feels the way your body’s tightening around him—trembling, too close to hold on. your legs clench tighter around his waist, breath ragged against his neck.

but caleb isn’t done with you—not even close.

he breaks the kiss, breath wrecked, and growls, “legs up.”

you barely have time to react before he unhooks your ankles from behind him, lifting your thighs with both hands, folding your knees up toward your chest. he shifts his grip again—one arm looping beneath your thighs, the other bracing you steady—and with a sharp inhale, he pushes your legs up, resting them over his shoulders.

the new angle hits deeper—sharper. you cry out, a soft, helpless mewl slipping from your mouth before you can even think.

he grins—wild, wrecked, proud. “that’s the sound i wanted.”

his thrusts grow sharper, precise—his hips rolling just right, his movements aimed perfectly at that one spot that makes your vision blur.

“this what you like?” he rasps, teeth gritted, sweat beading at his brow. “right there, huh?”

you nod frantically, your hands clawing for the edge of the desk again, hips jerking up to meet him, but he presses you down.

literally.

his palm slides to your lower abdomen, applying steady, firm pressure—just enough to intensify every thrust, every ripple of sensation spreading through your core.

your moan shatters into fragments, your whole body arching off the desk.

he leans forward—folding you tighter, his chest pressing your knees nearly to your chest, eyes locked on your wrecked expression.

“look at you,” he growls. “moaning like you were made for me.”

he thrusts harder, the desk creaking beneath the strain, your name falling from his lips like it’s sacred.

“gonna keep fucking you like this—until you scream.”

and god, you’re close.. so close, and he knows it—and he’s not letting up. not until you break.

you can’t breathe—can’t think.

your body’s a live wire under his hands—hips pinned, legs trembling where they’re draped over his shoulders, the pressure of his palm pressing down on your lower belly keeping every thrust deep, hard, devastating.

your voice breaks into choked whimpers, high and helpless. he groans, hips stuttering. “you’re so fucking tight—so perfect—”

your hands reach for him, any part of him—his arm, his chest, his name tumbling from your lips in gasps.

and then it hits. you clamp around him, the wave crashing over your body with dizzying force, your thighs shaking, a sharp cry leaving your mouth before you can bite it back.

caleb curses—his grip tightening, a deep moan ripped from his chest as your walls pull him deeper, tighter, desperate.

“fuckfuck, baby—” his pace falls apart as he drives in one last time, buried to the hilt, his hips grinding against yours as he spills into you with a guttural, broken sound.

his whole body shudders. he holds you through it—still inside, still pressed deep, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head as you tremble in his arms.

your breathing is sharp. ragged.

his lips ghost your cheek, your jaw, your temple.

he doesn’t say anything.

you both stay like that—tangled, breathless, pressed together like gravity won’t let you go.

his forehead rests against yours, still panting. your hands are curled against his chest, his heartbeat racing beneath your palm. you can feel every twitch of him inside you, every aftershock still rippling through your limbs.

the room is too quiet now. too still.

and yet, neither of you moves.

his hand strokes your thigh absently, almost without thinking, like he’s trying to memorize the way your skin feels beneath his fingertips. his eyes are still closed, his face close enough that you can see the lashes trembling slightly.

“fuck,” he breathes, like the air finally found him again. “i’ve wanted that for so long.”

you don’t answer.

you’re still trying to remember how to breathe.

he finally pulls back just enough to look at you—his expression soft, unreadable. not proud. not smug. just full.

then he slides out of you, slow and careful, and you both wince at the loss.

you shift on the desk, dizzy and sore, the weight of what just happened settling in your bones.

his cum is already starting to drip down your thigh.

you reach for the edge of the desk to steady yourself, cheeks flushed, lips parted.

he grabs a tissue from adrien’s desk drawer, silent, gentle, like the spell hasn’t broken yet—but the guilt is creeping under your skin, cold and steady.

you try to speak. fail.

he beats you to it.

“i shouldn’t have let it go that far,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “but god… i don’t regret it.”

you stare at the floor.

he reaches for your face, thumb brushing your jaw. “i know what this means. i know what we just did.”

you shake your head, voice thin. “i don’t know what to do.”

he leans closer, his voice rough and raw. “you don’t have to decide tonight.”

and you believe him. but when he kisses you—slow, tender—you taste everything that might still ruin you and for once you felt like this was right.

by the time you both manage to stand, everything feels too quiet.

your legs are unsteady, your heart still hammering with something that isn’t quite fear but sits awfully close to it.

caleb’s already moving—methodical, focused. he helps you off the desk, steady hands at your waist, his eyes meeting yours only briefly before he turns and starts fixing the room.

no words.

just motion.

you smooth your skirt back down, tug your blouse into place, fingers trembling slightly as you reach for your glass and wipe down the desk with a tissue—careful, thorough, like you can erase what just happened if you clean hard enough.

he buttons his shirt.

you both work in practiced silence.

within minutes, the study looks untouched.

like sin was never written across its surface.

he gives you one last look—checking, steady—and opens the door.

the living room is dim.

music is still pulsing low from a speaker in the corner, looping the same half-finished playlist. soft, woozy synths floating above the mess. but no one stirs.

m.c. is curled on the couch, one leg hanging off the armrest, her drink tilted dangerously sideways on the floor.

xavier is face-down on the rug, half-wrapped in a throw blanket he must’ve pulled off someone else. tara is sitting upright in a chair, completely asleep, sunglasses still on.

adrien is nowhere to be seen.

your breath catches for a second—until you spot him curled on the balcony chaise under a throw, sleeping soundly, one arm over his chest.

they didn’t hear anything.

the music saw to that.

you and caleb exchange one look.

he moves first, walking to the couch and gently adjusting the blanket over m.c., then grabbing a few more from the closet. you follow, helping without speaking, draping warmth over your friends as your stomach twists with guilt and something crueler—longing.

when the last glass is cleared and the last body covered, you both stand in the quiet, hands brushing briefly over a folded blanket.

you don’t look at him.

and he doesn’t say your name.

but the silence says enough.

the sun creeps through the windows slowly, painting long golden lines across the floor. it’s quiet, soft—the kind of stillness that only comes after a night that’s gone too far.

you’re in the kitchen.

the smell of coffee fills the air, rich and bitter and grounding. bacon sizzles low in the pan. there’s a bowl of chopped fruit beside the stove, a pile of toast cooling on a plate, and two half-empty mugs tucked off to the side of the counter. the hum of the kettle clicks off in the background.

you’re barefoot. hair tied back. wearing one of adrien’s oversized shirts.

but it’s caleb beside you.

sleeves rolled. expression calm. slicing tomatoes with methodical precision, like his hands aren’t still remembering the feel of you from hours ago.

neither of you speaks at first.

not about that.

you just move around each other easily—reaching, passing, flipping, tasting. like you’ve done this a thousand times. like it doesn’t mean something different now.

he glances at you once, quietly, while you stir eggs in a skillet. his mouth quirks faintly.

“you’re a good cook,” he murmurs.

you don’t look up. “you say that every time.”

“and every time, i mean it.”

you feel the warmth of his eyes before you hear footsteps.

m.c.’s voice croaks from down the hall. “someone making bacon or am i dreaming again?”

“real bacon,” you call out.

“thank fuck,” she mumbles, disappearing into the bathroom.

soon, the others begin to stir. tara dragging her blanket into the kitchen like a cape. nero groaning against the hallway wall. xavier looking like he just rose from a battlefield. adrien appears last, cheeks creased from sleep, smile lazy and soft as he walks up behind you and kisses your cheek.

“you’re incredible,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your waist. “and you made coffee? i’m marrying you.”

you laugh. but your eyes flick—just for a second—to caleb. he’s watching.

expression unreadable. but you feel it again—that hum under your skin. the memory of being pinned to a desk, his mouth on your ear, the way he said you’re mine.

you flip the eggs. adrien pours mimosas. the kitchen fills with warmth and laughter.

and no one knows a single thing.

the day drifts on in slow, lazy waves—plates passed around, hangovers soothed with fresh juice and greasy food, sunlight stretching over the living room like a warm hand. the worst of the mess has been cleared, though a few cups still linger in odd corners. someone plays music low from their phone. there’s laughter, mumbled teasing, even a few half-hearted recaps of the night before.

you stay close to adrien, answering softly when he pulls you into the conversation. he kisses your temple between bites. calls you baby like it’s second nature.

and you smile. you smile through it all.

but when everyone starts gravitating outside—m.c. corralling the group toward the backyard garden, tara demanding to feel the sun on her “hungover soul”—you stay behind to rinse a few dishes in the sink.

the back door clicks softly behind them. and then you hear it.

footsteps. he doesn’t speak right away.

he just comes to stand beside you at the sink, close but not touching, the sound of water and wind the only thing between you.

you don’t look at him. not until his voice comes, soft and edged.

“you were going to come back to me last night.” you don’t answer.

his hand doesn’t touch yours—but his knuckles brush your wrist.

you inhale—shallow, “but you didn’t,” he says quietly. “you went back to him.”

you finally look up. his gaze is steady, searching. not angry, not pleading, just… full.

“did it mean nothing to you?” he asks.

your chest tightens. “it meant everything.”

his jaw flexes.

you glance toward the door. “we can’t do this again.”

his voice drops. “you’re right.”

but neither of you moves. neither of you steps back.

you just stand there, in the stillness of your shared silence, with your hands in a sink full of warm water, the smell of breakfast still clinging to the air, and the weight of your mistake sitting quietly between you like it never left.

but was it really a mistake? didn’t feel like it.

your breath stutters as his body crowds you in—slow, unassuming—until your back presses gently against the counter’s edge, the warm water dripping quietly behind you, forgotten.

his hands don’t touch you yet.

but his voice does.

“i can make you cum in five minutes.”

your eyes widen—your breath catches.

his mouth tips into something between a smirk and a promise.

you press a hand to his chest. “caleb—no. we can’t.”

his hand catches your wrist—not rough, just steady—and holds it there against him, like a reminder of what’s already happened. his heart thumps fast under your palm.

“they’re outside,” he says, voice like silk dragged through embers. “they won’t hear a thing.”

you shake your head, pulse rushing in your ears. “we’re going to get caught. you want me moaning your name with adrien right there?”

his gaze darkens. “i absolutely do.”

you glare at him. “i’m serious.”

he leans in, mouth brushing your ear.

“so am i.”

his hand slides slowly to your hip, thumb dragging over the waistband of your shorts like he’s testing you. your body responds instantly—tense, flushed, already leaning into him like gravity’s doing the deciding for you.

“you think i can’t do it?” he murmurs. “five minutes. no one notices you’re gone.”

your breath shakes.

you glance at the door again, heart climbing into your throat. voices drift in from the garden—laughing, harmless.

he presses just a little closer. “you’re still wet for me. don’t pretend you’re not.”

your knees almost give out.

but your voice—small, trembling—still rises. “i can’t. not here. not again.”

he doesn’t wait for a reply, just walks to the back door, pauses for half a second, then slips outside with the rest of them—like nothing ever happened.

you stay frozen by the sink, heart thudding so loud you swear it might give you away.

the rest of the week slips by like nothing ever happened.

the apartment is clean. your schedule’s full. adrien brings you coffee every morning and kisses your forehead before he leaves for meetings. m.c. texts you memes. tara sends a video of xavier sleepwalking into the pantry. everything is fine.

it’s almost convincing.

except your phone won’t stop lighting up.

he waits until you’re at work, or just getting out of the shower. late at night when adrien is brushing his teeth. early in the morning, before you’ve had a chance to open your eyes properly.

it starts simple.

a message:

caleb: still thinking about the way you sounded on that desk.

then another:

caleb: wanna bet i could do it again? in less than five minutes this time?

and then the photos.

not filthy….not at first— just enough to ruin you.

a shot of his hand resting low on his abdomen, waistband of his joggers pulled just enough to show the line of muscle beneath. a mirror selfie, sweat-slick from training, shirt lifted and eyes locked on the camera like he’s daring you to respond.

you don’t….not always.

but sometimes… you stare too long.

it starts with the silence.

adrien’s been gone for three days—some urgent expansion deal in the outer prospects, a week of meetings, press, closed doors. he calls you when he can, always kind, always sweet. but the time zones are wide, and your bed is too big without him.

and your thoughts?

dangerous.

you try to distract yourself—wine, long baths, old telenovellas you used to love—but nothing dulls it. not the ache. not the tension. not the memory of being spread open across a desk with caleb whispering filth against your throat.

so you call him. not with a plan. not even with words.

just the need humming between your legs and his name sitting too heavy on your tongue.

he picks up on the second ring.

“i was wondering how long it’d take,” he says, voice thick, already low.

you don’t answer. just breathe. that’s all it takes.

“you alone?” he asks, soft, coaxing.

you nod, then remember. “yes.”

a pause, then, “want me to come over?”

you bite your lip. “no.”

his chuckle is quiet, warm, infuriating. “why not?”

“because,” you say, voice thin, “if you’re here, i won’t stop you.”

another pause, longer this time.

his voice drops into something rough, reverent. “then what do you want from me, baby?”

your breath trembles, “talk to me.”

he exhales, slow. “you touching yourself?”

you press your thighs together, pulse fluttering. “not yet.”

“good,” he murmurs. “because i want to tell you exactly how to do it.”

you close your eyes.

his voice fills your ear like silk over flame.

“you’re going to slide your hand down, real slow. just your fingertips. pretend it’s mine. you remember how it felt, don’t you?”

you nod, already falling under, his words wrap around you like heat, like a grip you never escaped in the first place.

and even though he’s not here—you feel like you’re his again.

“you remember how it felt, don’t you?”

his voice curls in your ear, velvet and heat.

you nod again, barely breathing, your other hand clutching the edge of the bed.

“yes.”

“tell me,” he says, low. commanding.

you swallow. “you were deep. i couldn’t think.”

he exhales, sharp and uneven, and you know exactly what kind of image that paints in his mind.

“good,” he says. “now lie back. open your legs for me.”

your body obeys before your voice can argue.

you slide down into the sheets, your bare thighs brushing the cool air, your fingers drifting slowly beneath your waistband—still unsure, still trembling.

“slow,” caleb murmurs. “pretend it’s my hand. my fingers.”

your breath catches as you touch yourself, soft and hesitant.

he hears it. groans, quiet and low.

“fuck, baby. that’s it. just like that.”

you close your eyes.

“are you wet for me already?” he asks, voice strained.

you nod. then remember, “yes.”

“yeah?” his voice shifts, darker now. “from just my voice?”

“yes—caleb.”

he groans your name back like it hurts him.

“rub yourself. slow circles. i want to hear what i do to you.”

you move, gently, following his rhythm. your breath stutters.

“that’s my good girl,” he whispers. “how fast are you moving?”

you gasp. “not fast. not—yet.”

“good. don’t rush. i want you aching.”

his voice stays steady even as his breathing picks up. you know he’s hard on the other end of the line, probably palming himself with the same patience he never showed when you were under him.

“picture me,” he says. “standing between your legs, mouth on your neck. my hands spreading you open.”

you whimper.

“you miss the way i fill you?” he growls.

“yes—”

“you want me to fuck you again?”

“caleb—” your voice breaks on it, thighs shaking.

“say it,” he demands.

“i want you to fuck me.”

“then you better cum for me first,” he hisses. “i want to hear it. i want you to fall apart with my name in your mouth.”

you gasp his name again, louder this time, as the edge creeps in fast.

he hears it. knows it.

“you’re close,” he breathes. “aren’t you?”

“yes—yes—”

“then let go. now. i’ve got you.”

you cry out—his name shattering off your lips—as the wave crests and crashes through you. your back arches. your hand trembles. everything pulses with that bright, sharp flood of release.

on the other end of the call, caleb groans—loud, raw, undone.

and then there’s silence.

heavy. intimate. both of you breathing.

you lie there, sheets tangled, sweat beading at your collarbone.

his voice returns, softer now.

“you still with me?”

“yeah,” you whisper.

“good.”

all of the sudden, you hear the line cut. your breath hitches, confusion seeping in.

you’re still catching your breath.

the sheets are twisted around your legs, your phone quiet now beside you, the screen gone dark. your fingers are trembling—still slick, still warm, still marked by his voice.

and then—

ding-dong.

you freeze.

your heart stutters in your chest.

the sound echoes through the apartment again, sharp and real.

you grab the edge of the bed, pull the sheets tight around your bare skin, breath caught somewhere between panic and disbelief.

your legs carry you to the door before your mind can catch up.

you check the cam.

your stomach flips.

it’s him.

he’s standing just outside the threshold, all dark clothes and darker eyes, hood up, head tilted like he knows exactly what he’s doing. like he’s not sorry.

you open the door a crack, voice thin. “caleb—what the hell are you doing?”

he looks at you, gaze steady. low and hungry.

“couldn’t help myself.”

“we already—” your voice falters. “the call—was enough.”

his eyes flick down your body, taking in the rumpled sheets draped around your figure. your skin still flushed. your thighs still trembling.

his voice is low, rough.

“you think i’m letting you finish without me?”

you grip the door, torn, heat rising again in your chest.

he leans in, close enough to feel his breath on your skin.

“open the door,” he murmurs. “or i’ll find another way in.”

your fingers loosen and the door swings wide.

the moment the door swings fully open, he steps inside—slow, unhurried, like he already owns the space. like he’s walked these floors in his mind a hundred times.

you take one step back—and that’s all he needs.

he grabs you by the waist, spinning you in one fluid motion until your back hits the wall with a soft thud. the sheets fall from your hands, forgotten, pooling at your feet. his body is on yours instantly, pressing you into the wall, mouth crashing down over yours.

it’s not a kiss. it’s claiming.

his hands roam everywhere at once—greedy, relentless—dragging over your waist, cupping your thighs, gripping your ass like he’s been dying to get his hands back on you.

you gasp against his mouth, and he drinks it in, biting down on your lower lip as he rolls his hips against you, slow and punishing. you’re already soaked again—he feels it, groans into your throat.

“you’re so fucking needy, i love it.” he growls, pulling back just enough to speak. “couldn’t even last a full week without falling apart for me.”

you don’t answer—can’t.

your head tilts back as his mouth moves down, teeth scraping against your collarbone, hands already pulling your legs up around his waist. he presses harder into you, his voice a low rasp against your skin.

“told you i’d finish the job.”

his hand slips between your thighs again, rough and certain, and you break against the wall—already breathless, already shaking.

and this time—you don’t even try to stop him.

your legs are already wrapped tight around his waist, his hands gripping your thighs with bruising force, and he’s already pushing his pants down just enough, lining himself up with a growl vibrating low in his chest.

“you’re dripping for me again,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “fuck, i didn’t even have to touch you.”

your only answer is a gasp—high and broken—when he thrusts into you in one hard, unrelenting motion.

the impact slams you back against the wall, your cry muffled by his mouth as he captures it in another bruising kiss.

his hips start a brutal rhythm—fast, deep, hungry—like he’s been starving for you since the moment he left. the slap of skin echoes in the hallway, raw and wet and reckless.

“this what you wanted?” he grits out. “me fucking you against his wall?”

your nails dig into his shoulders, your body helpless against the force of him. each thrust knocks the breath from your lungs. every word from his mouth cuts you wide open.

“say it,” he growls. “say you wanted this.”

you nod, sobbing out his name.

“louder.”

“yes—caleb—yes—”

his hand tangles in your hair, pulling your head back so he can watch your face.

“you’re mine when you come like this,” he snarls, pace brutal. “say it.”

“i’m—i’m yours—”

he slams into you harder, teeth bared.

“that’s right.”

his hand slides between you again, thumb finding the spot that makes your whole body jolt.

your walls start to flutter. he knows it.

and he chases it.

“cum on me,” he growls, voice like thunder. “right now—show me you belong to me.”

and with a choked cry, you fall—legs shaking, body collapsing against him as everything breaks apart in waves.

he follows seconds later with a deep, guttural groan, hips driving in hard as he spills inside you, buried to the hilt, fingers clutching your thighs like you’re the only thing keeping him from losing control completely.

your breath is still hitching in your throat when he pulls back—just enough to look at you, eyes dark, mouth parted, chest rising like he’s trying to steady a storm still raging under his skin.

but he’s not done.

not even close.

his hands shift, one sliding beneath your thighs to lift you—strong and certain—while the other braces your lower back. you gasp, legs trembling around him, but he carries you easily through the living room, the sounds of your bodies still echoing in your ears.

the couch catches you softly, and he’s already on you again.

he pushes you forward—slow, firm—until your chest meets the cushions, the cool fabric grounding and jarring against your flushed skin. his hands roam your back, trailing down your spine like he’s drawing a line only he gets to cross.

his voice is low, wrecked.

“ass up.”

you shiver.

you move, obeying—arms braced on the couch, back arched, body already anticipating him again even through the haze of your first release.

he groans behind you, the sound raw and almost reverent.

“fuck, look at you.”

you can feel the heat radiating off him, the way his hands slide over your hips with a grip that says mine, the way he tilts your hips just right—like he knows exactly how to break you open all over again.

his mouth dips low, breath hot against the small of your back.

“you asked for this the second you called me,” he growls, low and thick with need. “and now i’m going to make sure you don’t forget who really owns this body.”

you barely manage a breath before he pulls you back into him—and everything spins again.

he moves behind you with a hunger that’s no longer masked by charm or restraint. his grip on your hips tightens, thumbs pressing into your skin like he’s marking you, grounding himself in the way your body curves perfectly for him.

he leans in, chest over your back, mouth dragging along your shoulder, breath hot and uneven.

“just like that,” he growls. “back arched, head down. fuck, you look perfect like this.”

your fingers curl into the cushions as your breath catches again—already burning, already building. his rhythm is relentless, sharp, and possessive. each motion drives heat higher through your core, your body responding like it never forgot this exact cadence—like it was made for his hands, his hips, his voice.

“you feel that?” he murmurs, low and ragged. “how deep i am? no one else makes you this tight. no one else gets you this wet.”

you whimper, face buried in the fabric, and he groans—deep and guttural—at the sound.

“you gonna cum for me again?” he asks, one hand sliding forward to grip your waist, the other pressing low on your spine to keep you in place.

you nod, dizzy, already so close.

“no,” he growls, voice like fire against your ear. “use your words.”

“yes,” you gasp. “yes, caleb—”

“say it right.”

your whole body shakes.

“i’m gonna cum for you,” you sob, voice cracking.

he thrusts harder, chasing your rhythm, every breath a broken promise.

“that’s my girl,” he growls. “cum for me. let me hear you—don’t hold back.”

and you don’t. you break. you shatter.

your body trembles under him, your breath torn from your lungs, a cry ripped out of your throat that has only his name in it.

he curses—loud, filthy—his rhythm faltering as he slams into you one final time, hips jerking, teeth clenched, every muscle drawn tight as he follows you over the edge.

his hands stay on you even when it’s over, heavy and sure. grounding.

both of you collapse forward—chests heaving, skin slick, tangled in the ruin of what was never supposed to happen again.

but it did.

and the room is quiet now.

except for the sound of your hearts, still beating like they know this was never just lust.

the next day you’re at his house.

the sun filters through caleb’s floor-to-ceiling windows—soft gold over sleek metal, shadows painting his sheets like secrets.

you’re in his bed.

your legs straddle his hips, skin flushed and marked, your hands pressed to his chest to keep your balance as your body rocks in a slow, devastating rhythm.

his hands rest on your thighs, thumbs stroking upward, reverent, greedy. and your phone’s pressed to your ear.

adrien’s voice filters through the line, sweet and unsuspecting.

“i miss you already,” he says warmly. “i should be free by tomorrow night. maybe i’ll bring dinner, yeah?”

you clench around caleb. his jaw tightens. your breath stutters.

“yeah,” you whisper, voice trembling only slightly. “that sounds… perfect.”

caleb’s hands tighten on your hips. and then he thrusts upward—sharp, deliberate.

your free hand clutches the sheet behind him, trying to hold still, trying not to moan.

adrien keeps talking. something about logistics. his voice is a comfort and a blade at once.

you glance down—caleb’s staring up at you, eyes dark, mouth parted. he watches you ride him like it’s the only thing that matters, like the phone in your hand is a game he’s determined to win.

he leans up slightly, mouth brushing your collarbone, whispering into your skin:

“keep talking.”

you swallow hard, barely able to think.

adrien laughs on the other end. “you okay? you sound a little breathless.”

caleb thrusts again—deeper this time.

your nails dig into his chest.

you lie. softly. “just… cleaning… this stupid stain is stuck on the carpet.”

his smirk is vicious.

and underneath you, he moves again. because he knows exactly what he’s doing. and he knows— you’re not going to stop him.

you try to keep your voice steady, try to hold on to the thread of the conversation—adrien’s voice still warm, still so good on the other end of the line.

but caleb’s hands tighten around your hips.

and then he starts moving— faster. deeper.

his rhythm shifts from teasing to deliberate force, every upward thrust punching the air from your lungs, your thighs trembling where they straddle him.

you slap a hand over your mouth to stifle the gasp that breaks free.

caleb growls beneath you, low and dangerous, eyes locked on yours. “don’t you dare stop talking.”

your body bucks, your hand still gripping the phone tight against your ear as adrien’s voice continues, oblivious. something about flight delays. dinner reservations. your future.

but all you can hear is caleb’s breathing. all you can feel is him, inside you—every push driving you higher, rough and precise.

your eyes flutter. your head tilts back. your vision fogs.

caleb sits up slightly, chest brushing yours, his mouth ghosting your jaw.

“eyes on me,” he murmurs. “or roll them back. i want to see how far gone you are while you lie to him.”

your eyes snap open. then roll back.

your whole body shudders, and caleb groans, fingers digging harder into your hips to keep you from falling forward. you barely remember the phone still in your hand.

adrien’s voice rises, concerned. “hey, baby? you there?” you choke out, breathless, “yeah. sorry. dropped something.”

“you sound kind of off,” he says gently.

caleb’s voice slides against your neck, a ghost of laughter and filth.

“tell him you’re busy.”

your lips part.

adrien’s voice flickers with gentle concern through the phone, just as caleb’s hips snap up again, hard and deep, dragging a strangled whimper from your throat.

“you okay? seriously. you sound—off.”

you scramble for words, breathless, legs shaking.

“i—” you gasp, voice catching, “i just stubbed my toe.”

a pause on the other end, “what?”

“yeah,” you breathe out, clinging to the lie like a lifeline. “was moving the mop around… hit the leg of the table.”

caleb bites down on your shoulder, grinning against your skin like the devil himself.

“damn,” adrien laughs gently, unaware. “don’t hurt yourself trying to keep the place spotless. i’ll be back soon, okay?”

your nails dig into caleb’s shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut.

“yeah,” you whisper, “soon.”

“love you.”

you barely get it out. “love you too.”

and then the line goes dead. you drop the phone.

caleb’s hands catch your thighs, slamming you down onto him harder, deeper, a broken growl torn from his throat.

“stubbed your toe?” he mocks, voice dripping heat and pride. “you’re about to scream.”

your body jerks. your control snaps, and you cum, all for him— yet again.

your body’s still trembling when he finally stills beneath you, his arms wrapping around your waist as your chest heaves, slick with sweat and silence.

your legs have no strength left—they’re draped over his thighs like silk, your forehead resting against his shoulder, eyes closed, mouth parted as you try to catch your breath.

his hands roam slow over your back, grounding you.

neither of you speaks for a long while.

you can still feel it—him inside you, softening, warm, the echo of him burned into every inch of your skin. and despite everything—despite what you’ve done—you don’t move.

you can’t.

his voice breaks the silence, soft and hoarse, barely louder than your own heartbeat.

“i love you.” you freeze.

your breath catches. he doesn’t pull away, just tightens his arms around you.

“i’ve always loved you,” he murmurs. “even when we met. even when i told myself i missed my chance. even when i watched you fall in love with someone else.”

your throat tightens. he leans in, his mouth brushing your temple.

“and i know you love me too.”

you don’t say anything— you don’t have to.

because your silence isn’t denial, it’s the sound of everything breaking.

he feels it in your hands, curled around his chest. in the way your head rests against him a little heavier now. in the way your breath catches, quiet, like a sob you won’t let loose. he doesn’t push. he just holds you there—on his lap, in his arms, like maybe this time you won’t disappear when the sun comes up.

but you do.

you’re home before the sun has even begun to dip.

adrien’s still gone, somewhere between meetings and cocktail hours, his voice soft and golden over the last call he left you: can’t wait to be home, can’t wait to see you, miss you.

and now the house is spotless.

every surface wiped clean. fresh sheets on the bed. laundry folded and pressed. the subtle scent of citrus polish clings to your hands. the floorboards shine in the afternoon light like you never tracked sin across them barefoot hours earlier.

you’re barefoot now too.

a soft tee and shorts cling to your freshly showered skin, hair still damp, skin still flushed in places he didn’t touch—but left burning anyway.

the mop rests in the corner like a prop, innocent and ordinary.

you hum as you move through the kitchen, slicing fruit with a smile on your lips.

you’re happy.

blissfully so.

not because you’ve done the right thing.

but because he doesn’t know.

adrien, with his soft eyes and warm voice and endless devotion, will walk through that door tomorrow and kiss your cheek and call you his, and he’ll never once suspect that your knees shook around another man’s hips less than twelve hours ago.

you chew a piece of mango, sweet and sharp on your tongue.

your phone buzzes. you don’t look right away. you let yourself feel this moment—domestic, easy, safe.

untouched.

then you glance at the screen.

caleb: you taste better than any lie you’ve ever told.

you hear the key turn in the door before you’re even fully dry from your second shower.

adrien steps in, suitcase rolling behind him, blazer slung over his shoulder, and that smile—the one he always saves just for you—spreading across his face like sun through the clouds.

“there’s my girl,” he says, voice warm from the road, from miles of distance you filled with something else.

he pulls you into his arms before you can even pretend to be surprised, holding you tight, breath in your hair. he smells like travel and cologne and loyalty.

you let yourself melt into it—for a second.

you even smile.

he pulls back, brushing your cheek with his thumb, and there’s something new in his eyes. not fear. not worry.

just promise.

“listen,” he says, voice quieter now. “i’ve been thinking about this for a while. and this week just made it clearer.”

your stomach drops.

your fingers twitch.

adrien reaches into his bag.

a velvet box—sleek, dark, unassuming—appears in his hand like it’s always been meant to be there.

your breath catches.

he opens it.

the ring gleams in the light. simple. elegant. perfect.

you don’t hear the rest of what he says—not really. just flashes of it.

“you’re everything to me…” — “want to spend my life with you…”— “if you’ll have me…”

your pulse roars in your ears. and your smile doesn’t falter. but your soul does.

because you already said yes to someone else.

not with a ring—with your body.

your phone is still in your back pocket, pressed hard against your spine like a curse.

adrien is still talking. and you’re nodding.

you excuse yourself a minute later with some excuse about needing to grab something from the room. he doesn’t suspect a thing.

not even as you step into the hallway, shut the door, pull your phone free with trembling fingers—

and text him.

you: he has a ring. what the fuck do i do.

you don’t wait for a reply.

you just sink to the edge of the bed, the world spinning too loud in your ears, the weight of the velvet box echoing like a war drum in the next room.

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strwbyoons · 4 months ago

Note

idk if you take request but if you do maybe a drabble of dumb baby where jk ends up eating her p ssy and she rides her nose ?

ps : your spidey fic was so well written and i loved their dynamic 💕

STARRING ... J. JUNGKOOK X BIMBO!READER

A/N ... thank you sooo much for liking heartweave!! <3 apologies for how long it took me to get to this, but as per your request, here's a smutty lil drabble

NOTES/WARNINGS ... smut (18+/MDNI), munch!kook, porn without plot, face sitting, orgasm denial, jungkook does not play about making his girl feel good, after care. if i forgot anything let me know.

...

your focus is elsewhere, eyes glued to your phone, mindlessly scrolling as you rest comfortably on jungkook’s lap. his hands are on your waist, warm and familiar, thumbs rubbing slow circles against your skin where your shirt has ridden up.

he’s been quiet for a few minutes now, but you don’t think much of it. not until his grip tightens just slightly, fingers flexing like he’s holding himself back.

“wanna try something,” he says suddenly, voice low.

you hum absentmindedly, still scrolling. “mm? like what?”

his fingers slip lower, squeezing at your hips, a slow smirk creeping onto his lips. “wanna have you sit on my face.”

your fingers freeze mid-scroll. your phone slips from your grasp, landing somewhere on the bed, suddenly forgotten as your stomach does a little flip. blinking, you look down at him, finding those dark, expectant eyes staring up at you, his expression nothing short of mischievous.

“what?” you squeak, heat rushing straight to your cheeks.

he grins, tilting his head. “you heard me, baby.”

your lips part, but no words come out, your mind struggling to keep up with the sudden shift in atmosphere. jungkook just watches you, clearly enjoying your reaction, his hands kneading at your waist, pulling you just a little closer.

“c’mon,” he murmurs, voice dropping, all smooth and coaxing. “let me take care of you.”

your breath catches, fingers tightening around the hem of your shirt. “koo—”

he hums, leaning up, lips brushing against your jaw, your cheek, whispering against your skin. “be good for me, yeah?”

your breath is shaky, your fingers curling into the sheets as jungkook watches you, his eyes dark, unwavering.

his hands slide up, fingertips dragging along your sides, slow and deliberate. “you think i don’t want it?” he murmurs, tilting his head, gaze locked onto yours. “think i don’t wanna have you above me, making a mess all over my face?”

your stomach flips, warmth pooling between your thighs at the way he says it, like he’s already imagining how you’ll fall apart above him.

you press your lips together, nervous, hesitant, but jungkook sees right through you. his hands squeeze your hips, grounding, reassuring.

“jump off,” he says, voice smooth, calm, but there’s an edge to it, something commanding beneath the sweetness.

you hesitate for half a second, and then you move, shifting off of him so he can lay down properly, arms stretching above his head before settling comfortably against the pillows. he looks up at you, smirking just a little, his hands reaching for you instantly, urging you forward.

your heart is pounding, a mix of excitement and uncertainty swirling inside you, but jungkook is patient, his grip firm but gentle as he tugs you closer, guiding you over him.

his fingers hook into your underwear, sliding the fabric down your thighs, slow, deliberate, teasing. you shiver, watching as he helps you out of them completely, tossing them somewhere onto the bed like they don’t even matter.

you swallow hard, kneeling beside him, your body heating under his gaze.

“come here,” he murmurs, voice rough, hands wrapping around your thighs, tugging you forward.

you hesitate again, just for a second, but he soothes you with a slow stroke of his thumbs.

“trust me, baby,” he whispers, eyes half-lidded, lips slightly parted as he waits, patient and wanting. “lemme make you feel good.”

your breath hitches, your fingers digging into the sheets. then, slowly, you let him guide you up, positioning yourself above his face, thighs trembling just slightly as his grip tightens, holding you in place.

and the second you settle, his eyes flicker up, dark and full of something dangerous. “good girl,” he breathes, lips brushing against the heat of your skin, his grip firm on your thighs as he keeps you in place, hovering just above his mouth.

his breath is warm, teasing, the anticipation making your whole body shudder. you barely have a second to process before his tongue flicks out, pressing against your clit and dragging a long stripe up through your folds.

your whole body jolts, a shaky gasp tumbling from your lips, fingers instantly gripping the headboard for support.

“fuck—” your voice is barely above a whisper, thighs twitching as jungkook hums beneath you, pleased.

his tongue moves again, licking up through your slickness, savoring the taste of you like he has all the time in the world. your breath catches, a high-pitched whimper escaping as you tremble above him, your hips twitching forward before you can stop yourself.

jungkook groans, low and deep, the vibration shooting straight through you, making your whole body tingle. his hands flex on your thighs, pulling you closer, encouraging you to move, to grind down against his mouth.

“that’s it,” he murmurs against you, his voice muffled, lost in the mess he’s already making of you. “use me, baby.” his tongue plunges lower, hot and wet, licking into your cunt, the sensation making you jolt.

“oh—oh my god,” you gasp, fingers tightening in his hair now, holding onto him for dear life.

he growls, his grip tightening, keeping you pressed down as his tongue delves deeper, licking into you with messy, sloppy strokes, his face completely buried between your thighs.

your whole body trembles as he moves, flicking, and thrusting his tongue in and out of you, wet sounds filling the air as he works you open greedily, his hands gripping your thighs so tight you know you’ll feel it tomorrow.

you’re losing yourself, completely. your thighs are trembling, your hips rolling forward without even thinking, chasing every flick, every movement of his tongue.

“so messy, baby,” jungkook groans against you, his voice husky, drenched in arousal. “so fucking sweet.”

your breath is ragged, sharp little cries slipping from your lips, your mind hazy, floating. your stomach tightening, coiling, ready to snap.

jungkook knows it, too. he feels the way your thighs start to tremble, the way your hips stutter, struggling to keep up with the desperate rhythm you’ve set against his mouth.

he pulls away.

your entire body jerks, the loss of contact so sudden that your breath catches in your throat, a desperate whimper breaking free.

“w-wait—” your voice is barely there, weak and broken, hands flying to his hair, trying to push yourself back onto his mouth. but jungkook’s grip on your thighs is firm, unyielding, holding you in place just far enough that his lips hover over you, but not touching.

“nah, baby,” he breathes, voice dark, dripping with amusement, his fingers stroking up and down your skin in slow, soothing patterns, like he isn’t being absolutely cruel. “not yet.”

your head falls back, frustration bubbling in your chest, tears pricking at your eyes.

“koo—” you whine, voice high, breathless, your entire body aching, throbbing from how close you’d been. he smirks, watching the way you squirm, how your fingers tremble in his hair as you try to urge him closer.

“you were gonna cum, weren’t you?” he muses, tilting his head, his breath still hot against your soaked skin, sending little shocks through your oversensitive nerves.

you nod frantically, your hips jerking slightly, your desperation obvious. “yes, yes, i was—”

“too bad.”

his grip tightens, nails pressing just slightly into the soft flesh of your thighs as he drags his tongue along you, slow and lazy, teasing, but not giving you enough, not enough to build it back up, not enough to push you over the edge.

your stomach tenses, frustration bubbling higher, making you gasp as he continues. light licks, soft kisses, nothing close to what you need.

“please,” you sob, hands fisting in his hair, begging.

and jungkook—cruel, teasing, relentless jungkook—finally decides to give you what you want.

his grip on your thighs tightens, holding you in place as he leans in again, tongue eagerly lapping greedily at your dripping cunt.

you jolt, a sharp gasp escaping, your body immediately reacting to the sudden return of sensation.

he doesn’t start slow this time. no more teasing, no more light flick. he sucks you into his mouth, tongue circling your clit in quick, deliberate motions.

your back arches, a strangled moan slipping from your lips as the pleasure slams into you all at once. “f-fuck, jungkook—”

he moans in response, the sound sending vibrations straight through you, making your legs shake. his hand slides down, fingers trailing between your folds, slick and soaked from how long he’s been working you up, how much he’s denied you.

then he pushes in. one finger, then another, stretching you, filling you up slow, and deep, curling just right to kiss against that special spot inside of you.

your breath stutters, hands shaking, nails digging into his scalp as you cling to him, helpless against the pleasure that slams through you.

“oh my god—” you cry, hips bucking against his face, and jungkook growls, gripping your thighs tighter, keeping you still as he fucks you open with his fingers, matching the pace of his tongue.

his fingers press deeper, curling up, rubbing against that spot over and over. his tongue is unrelenting against you, flicking, sucking, messy and desperate.

your thighs are trembling, stomach coiling tight, pleasure building too fast, too hard, too overwhelming. you’re gonna break.

“that’s it,” jungkook groans against you, voice dark and full of hunger, fingers thrusting deep, tongue working you over with fast, filthy strokes. “gimme one, baby. wanna feel you cum on my tongue.”

and the second he crooks his fingers just right, mouth closing around your clit with one last hot, messy suck, you snap.

the pleasure crashes into you like a tidal wave, hot and overwhelming, your entire body locking up before unravelling all at once. a choked sob rips from your throat, sharp and broken, turning into a high-pitched moan that sounds downright obscene.

your hips jerk, grinding against jungkook’s face, chasing every last aftershock of pleasure, unable to stop yourself from riding it out.

he groans beneath you, voice low and wrecked, encouraging, letting you take what you need. his hands hold you tight, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs, keeping you right where he wants you as you move, letting him lick up everything you give him.

“oh fuck...” you gasp, body shuddering, vision going hazy from how hard you’re cumming, the pleasure so intense it borders on too much.

jungkook doesn’t stop. doesn’t even slow down.

his tongue is still lapping at you, messy, sloppy, dragging out every little pulse, every last tremor of your high, addicted to the way you taste.

your thighs twitch, your hands shaking as you try to push him away, whimpering from the overstimulation, but he just groans, mouth still locked onto you, still devouring you like he hasn’t had enough.

“too much, koo—” you sob, legs trembling, but he only tightens his grip, moaning into you, his tongue flicking over your oversensitive pussy, making you cry out again.

he doesn’t care. doesn’t care that you’re twitching, that your body is going limp, that you’re whimpering, sobbing, struggling to breathe. he just keeps going, working you through it, chasing another one.

his nose brushes against your clit, pressing just right, and your breath stutters, your whole body locking up for a second before instinct kicks in. you start to move again, grinding down, rolling your hips in slow, shaky circles.

jungkook groans, low and guttural. his fingers flex against your thighs, helping you move, guiding your rhythm, his tongue still flicking up against your entrance, letting you use him exactly how you need.

you’re whimpering now, high-pitched, desperate, the pleasure overwhelming, too much and not enough all at once.

his nose presses against you with every roll of your hips, the pressure perfect, sharp little bursts of pleasure making your stomach coil tight again, building too fast.

“fuck—koo, i—” you gasp, nails digging into his scalp, your whole body tense, right on the edge again.

he knows. he feels it. the way your thighs are quivering, the way your moans get higher, the way your movements start to stutter. with one last sharp roll of your hips, one last stroke of his tongue, you shatter.

your vision whites out, your whole body locking up before shaking violently as your second ogasm rips through you, stronger than the first.

a loud, broken moan tears from your throat, your thighs squeezing around his head as you grind against his face, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until you can’t take anymore.

your limbs go weak, completely spent, trembling, your body sagging forward as the aftershocks pulse through you. jungkook is still licking at you, slower now, not wanting to let you go just yet.

“koo, stop,” you sob, barely able to form words, your whole body shaking as you try to pull away, too sensitive, too much.

he groans in protest, but finally lets you go.

his grip on your thighs loosens, and you all but collapse, sliding off him and onto the bed, your body boneless, completely spent. your breathing is ragged, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your thighs still trembling.

jungkook licks his lips, smirking, looking at you through heavy-lidded eyes. his face is a mess, completely soaked in you.

“so fucking pretty when you fall apart for me,” he murmurs, voice thick and lazy, his fingers still stroking slow circles against your shaking thighs.

you can’t even respond, can’t even think. just lay there, panting, completely and utterly ruined.

his hands move before he even thinks about it. gentle now, sliding up to your waist as he tugs you closer, shifting you onto him. “c’mere, baby,” he murmurs, voice soft.

you barely register the movement, letting him pull you into his chest, your body molding into his like it’s second nature.

his arms wrap around you, firm but tender, hands rubbing slow, lazy circles against your back. he kisses the top of your head, soft and lingering. “did so good for me,” he whispers against your hair, voice thick with something warm, something adoring.

you make a small noise, barely more than a hum, nuzzling into his chest, your fingers weakly gripping at the fabric of his hoodie like you need to hold onto something.

jungkook chuckles, low and affectionate, his hand smoothing over your back before moving up to cradle the back of your head, tucking you in even closer. “s’that all i get?” he teases lightly, fingers playing with the ends of your hair. “no words, baby?”

you pout against his chest, but it’s weak, sleepy. “too tired,” you mumble.

he grins, shifting just enough to press another kiss against your temple, long and lingering, like he can’t help himself. “yeah? wore you out that bad?”

you nod, letting yourself melt into his warmth. your body already starts to relax, the last bits of tension ebbing away under his touch.

he holds you like that for a while, just rubbing circles into your back, pressing little kisses to your hair, letting you come down at your own pace.

“let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmurs after a moment, his lips brushing your forehead. “then we can nap, yeah?”

you hum, nodding against his chest, but make no move to get up, completely content to stay wrapped up in him for a little longer.

he laughs softly, squeezing you one last time before finally shifting, his hands never leaving your skin. “i love you, baby.”

#jeon jungkook x fem!reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook #bts x fem!reader #bts x reader #bts smut

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nathanbatemanfucker · 3 months ago

Text

The Falcon & the Machine

summary: joaquin confronts you about your attempt to “protect” him.

pairing: joaquin torres x f!assassin!reader

contents: mentions of canon typical violence, angst, pining/longing, kissing, happyish ending

wc: 1,652

an: i just love the idea of joaquin and his lover being on the opposite side of things or having different morals. idk it makes their love that much better to me 🫶🏾🤭

danny ramirez characters masterlist

The car stops somewhere deep in the Virginia woods—far enough from the base to mean it’s not casual, close enough to mean someone wanted this private but not remote. It has your alarm bells ringing.

You narrow your eyes at Sam through the rearview mirror. “I thought you said this was a tactical meeting.”

“It is,” he says, his voice too casual and smooth. “Tactical for your emotional wellbeing.”

He’s out the car and your door opens before you can snap something back. You step out, instincts sharp even when you’re exhausted. The world around you is quiet, deceptively peaceful. The trees, the sound of wind stirring through the leaves, the birds distant but constant and everything feels still.

That’s the problem, isn’t it? You don’t know how to feel still anymore. Not after everything.

You see Joaquin as you keep walking, and all of your practiced cold, all your walls fall away like a sheet of glass hit from the inside.

He’s standing in a clearing, arms crossed, Falcon wings holstered tight to his back. You can’t see his eyes yet, but you know he’s looking at you. You can feel that same raw tension in his gaze, the same pull between you that neither of you can ignore.

You haven’t answered his calls in three weeks, or let him near you since the mission in Turkey went sideways. Since the extraction turned into a bloodbath, bodies hitting the floor from your hands. That’s when the questions started to follow you—yes as always— but him too.

Questions that could ruin everything Joaquin’s shed blood, sweat and tears for.

The second hardest part of all this isn’t having to kill the people that come after you, the people they send to ask questions or torture you. Its the way you saw the fear in Joaquin’s eyes when he realized how far into the dark you were willing to go to protect him, and everyone else. He saw the worst of you. And still…he never wanted to walk away, he never turned away.

The hardest part? Letting him.

Because your file isn’t redacted, you can’t hide in the shadows while living this full life. People know who you are and what you do. You’re a fixer—not in the clean, shiny way that heroes are. You don’t wear the white hat, you don’t dawn the stars and stripes.

You’re someone who does the dirty work when governments, organizations, or even the Avengers themselves need it done. You erase people and trade lives like currency and manipulate systems from the inside out. You’re good at it, but it’s not who you are. At least, not the person you want to be—not when you’ve been given someone like Joaquin by the grace of the universe to stand beside you.

But the world isn’t kind to ghosts, to those who lurk in the shadows. And Joaquin… he’s everything you’re not.

He’s visible. He’s everything that is right and pure and true in the world. People believe in him and they believe in his future. Not in yours, not in the mess that’s followed you around all your life.

“Seriously?” you mutter, glaring at Sam, but he’s already slipping away from you, hands raised in mock surrender.

“Talk to him or don’t. But, if I hear either of you whining and brooding one more time, I’m putting you both in a room with Bucky. You know he’s tryna therapize everybody now that he has a shrink.”

You roll your eyes, but his words sit with you long after Sam disappears back into the trees. Talk to him or don’t…did you truly have a choice? He’s right, neither of you have stopped talking about the other. You turn toward Joaquin, who hasn’t moved an inch.

His face is collected, but it’s not just the expression—it’s the way he stands. There’s an edge to him now, something rough, jagged in his posture that makes your heart tighten.

You don’t give him the chance to speak. “I didn’t want you to see me like this,” you explain, your voice shaking under the weight of the tension.

Sam must’ve told him about the way you’d broken down earlier in the week, how much of a toll trying to do right by him took on you.

He lets out a dry laugh, one that starts to give away that he’s hurting too. You hear in the way his voice cracks. “You mean seeing you be real? Not that— that machine you become. Not worrying about who you are and who I am, just feeling it?”

You flinch, but he doesn’t look at you with judgment. It’s just the truth in his words—raw and impossible to deny. You’ve always tried to protect him from that. From you.

“I meant what I said, Joaquin,” you say, forcing the words past the tightness in your throat. “You have a future.

“We had a future.”

“Did we? You’re the Falcon– you’re Captain America’s right hand. People need you.”

His jaw tightens, and his eyes flash as they finally meet yours, the intensity there almost too much to bear. “And you don’t?”

“I’m one person. People believe in you. They trust in you.”

He already has a complicated relationship with the pressure of being a superhero. Could he keep something? Not his privacy or his image but you? Or would living his dream take everything from him?

“And they wouldn’t if they knew that I love you? That you love me too?” he asks, voice quieter but no less fierce.

You bite down on your lip, trying to steady yourself trembling under the depth of his words. Your own pour out of you almost frantically. “If they knew what I’ve done? If they knew what I still do? I torture and kill for a living, Joaquin. I’ve crossed lines you can’t even imagine. There’s so much that I can never tell you. If the wrong person finds out about me, about us, everything you’ve worked for could be gone in an instant. Your reputation, your team, your wings, maybe even Sam’s shield. I won’t do that to you.”

Silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating. Your words hang in the air, unspoken truths that neither of you wants to face.

He doesn’t look angry and he doesn’t look scared either. But he looks tired—in the way people look when they’ve spent too long running from something that was always going to catch up with them.

“I don’t care,” he says finally. The words come out rough, a quiet certainty threading through his voice.

You blink, confused. “What?”

“I said I don’t care what they say,” Joaquín continues, stepping closer. His voice drops lower, each word carrying weight, but with something else behind it—something real. Something charged that makes butterflies swirl in your stomach. “I don’t care about politics, or optics, or keeping it clean for the cameras. I care about you, I love you. What matters more to me is you. Not the job or the title. Not the wings—you.”

Your chest feels tight, the weight of his words pushing you down, making your breath catch.You want to pull away, to let the distance between you both grow to protect him but you can’t. Not when he’s standing there—when he’s been so damn sure about you from the first time he laid eyes on you.

“I’m not good for you,” you whisper brokenly, the vulnerability you’ve been trying to shield yourself from finally breaking through.

“Maybe,” he says, eyes never leaving yours, his voice softer, like he’s holding onto every syllable. “But I want you.”

Before you can respond, he’s there. On you, surrounding you. His lips are on yours, pulling you into a kiss that’s fierce and desperate, raw with need. Your hands find his chest, and then his arms, gripping onto him as if you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you let go. The world around you becomes nothing but noise and movement. The distant rustle of the leaves, the pounding of your heart. The overwhelming rush of warmth, heat, and everything that makes this moment feel like it’s been years in the making.

He presses you against the rough bark of the tree, his body flush against yours, his hands moving over your skin with a care and hunger that makes you ache. His lips leave yours only for a moment, just long enough for him to speak, his breath warm against your ear.

“I’m not letting go,” he murmurs.

You don’t know how to respond but you don’t have to because he’s kissing you; no consuming you. The fear in your chest starts to melt into something else—that deep, raw desire that you’ve been trying to bury under the fear of ruining the one pure thing in your life. But the way he’s holding you, the way his fingers press into your chin and throat as he holds you, grounds you—he’s not letting go.

Not of you. Not of any of this. He’ll be damned.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admit, your voice breathless from the kiss, from how warm his mouth feels as it skates against the skin of your throat.

“I’ll show you how,” Joaquin says, his voice steady, confident between kisses. “One step at a time. Just trust me. You trust me right?”

“You know I do.”

“Then trust that I know what I’m doing. Trust that I know I meant to choose you. Can you do that for me?”

You nod and close your eyes, letting the sound of his heartbeat settle against your own. You don’t think you’re ready for this, for everything that comes with it. But maybe, you can trust him to help you figure it out. Because with him, you’re not a ghost, not just a handler or a murderer or whatever the contract names you to be.

You’re just you. Just his.

sfw joaquin taglist: @magikdarkholme, @plan3t-plut0, @mewmew222, @linnygirl09, @ezhz444, @karmaswitch, @badbishsblog, @glader13, @how2besalty, @happypopcornprincess, @hiireadstuffsometimes, @lisiliely, @spider-steve, @nolita-fairytale, @hrlzy, @faretheeoscar, @giuliahowlett, @abriefnirvana, @fanboyswhore9 , @sidkneeeee, @sophreakingfunny, @heartbreakgirlism, @peachyxlynch, @lomlbuckybarnes, @a-randomscrub, @ajcs150, @glimodejun, @isuckatmath, @arsonhotchner, @sidkneeeee, @galaxywannabe, @retrosabers, @marchingicenotes7, @marroonwitch, @seraphibunni, @that-girl-named-alex, @bxtchboy69, @mischiefmanaged71, @something-random-idk, @dualinstinct, @alevanswrites, @articel1967, @lanoviadestiles, @zolassalgorhythm, @peacefangirl, @blackwomanchronicles

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x fem!reader #joaquin torres x f!reader #falcon x reader #marvel x reader #joaquin torres angst #joaquin torres fluff #joaquin torres fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #arson writes

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riddlesbunny · 4 months ago

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serpent and the bunny

summary: Mattheo gets his payback after you make him jealous during potions

pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: Explicit smut, porn with little plot, semi-public sex, p in v, chase kink, begging, choking, dirty talk, creampie 18+ MDNI

note: this is a repost and idk if I like it … anyway tagging @nemesyaaa @enzosbabyangel @belovedenzo 💕

You lean in closer to Draco, letting your fingers brush against his as you reach for the powdered moonstone. His lips twitch into a smirk, clearly enjoying the attention.

“Careful,” he murmurs, his voice low, “wouldn’t want to get distracted and botch the potion.”

You tilt your head as you giggle, “I don’t get distracted that easily, Malfoy.”

You’re not into him at all, but Mattheo doesn’t know that.

Across the table, Mattheo shifts in his seat. You don’t even have to look to know his jaw is clenched, his grip on his quill likely tight enough to snap it in half.

After that stunt, you don’t let Mattheo catch up with you after class. You make sure to avoid him until the end of the day.

Something you’ve noticed about Mattheo is when he’s in a certain mood— especially when he’s jealous you swear you can see something inhumane can briefly surface in those beautiful eyes of his.

Sometimes when the light catches his eyes at just the right angle, something seems to shift, creating an illusion of slitted pupils that could be mistaken for a snake's gaze. You’d be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t turn you on.

This is one of those moments. As you stood face to face with him in the abandoned corridor after curfew.

The flame from the torches that light the hallway illuminate his face beautifully, but the way he looks at you now is like a serpent fixed on its prey.

“What are you thinking about, Matty?” you ask innocently through your lashes.

Mattheo halts, then closes the distance between you in a single breath, his fingers curling around your waist. His forehead brushes against yours slightly.

“I’m thinking…” he murmurs, pausing just long enough to let anticipation build, “about that little stunt you pulled earlier in potions.”

“Mattheo, I —”

“No, no. s’okay, I know you just did it to get a reaction out of me.. Isn’t that right, bunny?”

Your eyes narrowed. There it was. That name.

He said it like it’s his favorite curse word. Like he wants to spit it, own it, ruin it all at once. And every time it leaves his mouth, it stirs something inside you. He knows it does. That it hits somewhere between humiliation and heat— as if he’s branded you with it.

He leans back just enough for you to catch the smirk playing on his lips—another one of his games. His fingers brush lightly against yours and goosebumps rise on your skin.

“I’ll give you a head start, bunny.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and you know exactly what he means. He wants to earn you.

That serpentine look flashes in his eyes once more.

“Run.”

And so you obey him. You take off into the darkness. Running like your life depends on it, your heart pounds in your chest as the sound of Mattheo's laughter echoes behind you.

Your shoes pound against the floor, echoing off the walls. You swerve around corners as the muscles in your calves burn, ice fills your veins.

Suddenly, a strong hand grips your wrist and tugs you into an alcove. With his breath hot on your skin, and his wand pointed at your neck a low growl escapes his throat, “caught you.”

You’ve lost. But yet, wetness pools at your core again. You’re cornered, trapped between the stone wall and Mattheo’s solid body. His hands grip your shoulders, pushing you roughly against the stone. He crowds close, so near that his warm breath teases the shell of your ear.

“Finally caught my little bunny,” he growls, low enough that you barely hear him over the pounding of blood in your ears. He towers over you, trapping you with nowhere to go.

Your hands fly up, gripping at his robes, fisting the fabric tightly.

Mattheo chuckles menacingly as he pushes himself forward against your hand, pressing his hard cock into your palm through his clothes.

“Go ‘head and fight me, bunny. It’ll make it even sweeter when I claim what’s mine.”

Your mouth parts in surprise at his words. Before you can come up with a reply, he crashes his lips onto yours, hard and demanding. Your teeth clash against his, but then you open for him, surrendering as his tongue demands entry. He explores every inch of your mouth, tangling with your own tongue.

Mattheo’s hands are everywhere, groping and pinching your tits, squeezing the swell of your ass through the thin material of your robe. Your heart continues to race as he explores every curve of your body. Sending a shiver down your spine as warmth radiates from him. You whimper into his mouth pathetically.

Mattheo breaks away from you, leaving you panting and lightheaded.

“Such a good little bunny you are.”

Giving you no time to think, he spins you around and pushes your face against the stone as he grinds his erection against your ass. A loud moan erupts from your throat.

“See how worked up you got me?” he asks, and you nod your head fervently.

Your hips rock back against his instincitvely, desperately seeking more friction as his cock grows harder against you.

“I want you to beg,” Mattheo whispers against your neck before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh where your shoulder meets your throat. You cry out as one of his hands slides around your waist, pinning you tight as the other begins to hike your robe up.

“Please, Matty..”

His large palm skims across the silky flesh of your ass before hooking into the side of your panties, pulling them aside with one swift tug. You gasp as the cool air hits your soaking pussy.

Mattheo’s fingers trace the wetness that gathers along your slit, earning another sharp gasp from you. He smirks, drawing circles around your clit, making you squirm.

Without warning, he plunges two thick fingers inside your dripping cunt, stretching you wide.

“Bloody hell,“ he groans, “you’re even more tight when you’re nervous,” he notes as his two fingers work expertly to find that spongy spot within your walls. A loud moan escapes you as his thumb finds it’s way to your clit, drawing lazy circles around the sensitive bud.

“Please, Mattheo.”

He presses his thumb harder, causing you to buck backwards, only to feel his cock grow even harder against you.

“Y’can do better than that, baby.“

“Please, please!!” you whine out desperately, “I need your cock.”

Mattheo growls in approval, quickly pulling his digits from your core, causing you to wince.

His now-free hand unbuckles his pants as the other continues to tease your throbbing clit.

You feel his length spring free, throbbing hot and heavy against your exposed flesh, pre-cum already leaking from the tip.

“Is this what you want?”

“Mhm,“ you muster out as you bite down on your lip so hard you could draw blood.

With one hand still working your pussy, he guides his thick length against your entrance with the other. White hot electricity sears through your veins.

In one swift motion, Matty enters you, stretching you wide, making you gasp aloud.

“Fuck, yes! That’s good,” you hiss as he fills you completely, your walls hugging him greedily.

Matty’s fingers tangle in your hair, pulling your head back sharply as he begins to thrust, one hand wrapped around your hip, guiding you onto his shaft.

Your nails dig into the flesh of his forearm as he drives into you, each thrust pushing you further onto your tiptoes.

“Feel so fuckin’ good baby,” Mattheo grunts, pistoning in and out of your wet heat relentlessly. His grip on your hip could leave bruises, but the pain only spurs you further.

Your entire body flushes red, heated from his brutal pace and the crude words that spew from his lips.

“Look how well we fit together, bunny,” he taunts leaning in to whisper against your neck before sucking and biting down on your earlobe.

Your pussy pulses around his cock, your juices coating him as he slams into you.

“Oh, fuck yes!” you groan and he knows you’re close.

“Cum for me, bunny… now,” he commands as his strokes grow more erratic.

Mattheo’s dirty words send a wave of ecstasy through your veins, pushing you closer to release. You cry out as he drags his fingertips across your clit again.

An overwhelming wave of pleasure bloomed within you, warmth spread through your entire body as you soaked Mattheo’s cock completely.

A few more languid pumps of his cock and he’s shooting thick, pearly ropes inside of you.

“Fuuuck,” he groans as he pulls himself out of you, his cock wet from both of your releases.

As you steady yourself, your breath still uneven, Mattheo leans in, his lips ghosting over your jawline with a satisfied smirk.

“You’re perfect for me, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp that sends another shiver down your spine. The distant echo of footsteps reminds you both of the risk still lingering in the air, but neither of you moves just yet. Instead, he tugs you close one last time, his fingers trailing lazily along your skin before he finally steps back, straightening his tie as if nothing had happened.

“Better get back before someone catches us,” he muses, but the way he looks at you promises this won’t be the last time.

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x fem!reader #mattheo riddle x reader smut #mattheo riddle x reader #matty riddle #mattheo riddle oneshot #mattheo smut #mattheo x you #mattheo x fem!reader #harry potter oneshot #harry potter smut #harry potter fanfic

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goldfades · 7 months ago

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hotel room ! — BURROW

— idk what this is, tbh! i've been swarmed with school so literally have not been able to sit down and write, so here's a random and very short smut that was collecting dust in my drafts.

idk what this is, it's just a very self indulgent dirty piece of writing, nonetheless lmk what yall think!!!

NSFW under the cut!!!! read @ ur own discretion

"Fuck, you're already so wet," Joe groans, his fingers rubbing slow circles over your clothed slit. "So fucking ready for me."

Joe leans down, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck as he sucks a dark hickey into your flesh. He wants everyone to see his mark on you, wants them to know that you belong to him. He sits back on his knees, his hands gripping the waistband of your panties. With one sharp tug, he rips them off, tossing the torn scrap of red lace aside. He takes a moment to admire your naked pussy, his eyes dark with desire as he takes in the sight of your glistening folds.

"Spread your legs for me, sweetheart," he commands, his voice low and demanding. "Show me that pretty little cunt, baby. Let me see how much you need me."

You did as you were told, spreading your legs despite the heat radiating from your cheeks. His hands then slide between your thighs, his fingers parting your pussy, exposing your dripping slit to his hungry gaze.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he murmurs, his thumb circling your clit, teasing the sensitive nub until your hips buck up off the bed. "Gonna fuck you so good, baby."

You let out a shaky moan as you sit up, pulling him by his belt. “Fuck, Joe. Take this shit off now.”

You then began unbuttoning his shirt quickly, the desperation practically vibrating off your body. “Just want you to fuck me, baby,” you continued, your voice filed with unadulterated need.

Joe's eyes darken at your desperate plea, a wide grin spreading across his face. He loves seeing you like this—wanton, needy, completely consumed by your desire for him. With a low growl, he sits back and practically tears off his shirt, throwing it somewhere on the hotel bedroom floor.

"Fuck, love it when you talk like that," he rasps, his voice thick with lust. "So fucking hot, baby."

He stands up just long enough to shove down his slacks and boxer briefs, his thick, hard cock springing free. It's long and thick, the shaft veined and pulsing with need. The swollen head is already leaking precum, a bead of moisture dripping down to the base. He crawls back over you, settling between your spread thighs. He grits his teeth, his control slipping as he lines himself up with your entrance.

"You want my cock so bad, sweetheart?" he growls, rubbing the leaking head of his cock against your slit, teasing your folds. "Want me to split you open on my cock?"

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "Beg for it, baby." His voice is a low rumble, filled with dark promise and desire. "Tell me how much you need it, how much you need me to fill you up."

You shuddered at his teasing and I couldn’t help but moan. You glared up at him, my whole body practically shaking with need. “Joe, if you don’t fuck me right now—“ I cried out in desperation and slight annoyance. “I can’t fucking wait any longer, Joe!”

Joe's eyes flash with a mix of lust and amusement at your desperate, annoyed cry. He fucking loves it when you get like this—so needy and impatient for his cock. It makes him feel powerful, in control, like the king of his fucking castle.

"Mmm, there's my girl," he purrs, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "So fucking eager for my dick, can feel it."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a filthy, dominating kiss. His tongue plunges into your mouth, consuming you completely. At the same time, he thrusts his hips forward, burying his thick cock deep inside your soaked, needy pussy with one brutal stroke.

He doesn't stop until he's balls-deep, until he can feel your cervix kissing the tip of his cock. He groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips as he savors the feel of your silky walls clenching around him.

"Fuck, baby," he gasps, pulling back just enough to look at you. He starts to move, pulling out until just the tip remains inside, before slamming back in, setting a hard, fast pace. "Gonna ruin this pussy, baby. Gonna fucking wreck you."

His hands grip your hips, squeezing the soft flesh hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises. He pulls you into each thrust, meeting him halfway, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the hotel room. He pistons into you, grunting and growling with each brutal thrust, determined to claim every inch of your cunt.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow bengals #joey b #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow smut

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darlingdaisyfarm · 6 months ago

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⋆｡‧˚ʚ 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

⸝⸝ 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒚, 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍, 𝒇𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅 ⸝⸝

a/n: i was thinking about this for a while and just HAD to write it!! Bill's a little freaky but ok. everyone kisses differently and i love how much that says about them :) maybe i'll do a part two tho idk if it'll be smth nsfw or no. also sorry if photos are random i just think it suits gravity falls aesthetic plus i was out of ideas (i want summer)

𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒆𝒚

Stan’s got a thing for forehead kisses, always has, always will. they’re effortless and easy. a quick press of his lips when he passes by, a habit more than anything. he’s a busy man, always moving, always going somewhere, but that doesn’t mean he won’t grab you, tilt your head up and press a warm kiss right to your forehead

it's a way of saying “i gotcha” without actually saying it. doesn’t matter if he’s in a rush, grumbling about tourists, wiping down the counter. he’ll keep you safe. he swears it.

big, warm hands cupping your face. his lips are warm, his stubble scratches against your skin but the moment you start to melt he’s gone.

he pulls back, smirks, winking at you

“gotta give the tourists their money’s worth, sweetheart.” you hear his voice through the walls of the Mystery Shack, always so confident as he launches into his usual con. “step right up, folks! come see the eighth wonder of the world!”

but, oh, don’t let that fool you. he’s a tease, and he knows it.

he’s got another favorite, too

your neck

he makes a game of it. a teasing peck when he leans in to tell you something. a slow, tender kiss at the curve of your throat when he’s feeling particularly smug, when he’s got you pinned between him and the kitchen counter, when he knows you’re hanging on to every little touch.

“heh. what’s that face for, baby? didn’t think id be so smooth, huh?”

he’s a biter, too, making you shiver. he needs to feel the way you react beneath his hands. he likes knowing he can fluster you. likes leaving you breathless, just for him.

and if he’s feeling real bold, his lips might stray lower, making a slow, lazy path along your collarbone. “what? somethin’ wrong? i think I’m right where i wanna be.”

𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅

Ford kisses like a man who’s spent most of his life not kissing anyone, like someone who’s read about it, thought about it, imagined it, but never quite gotten the chance. but when he feels the warmth, the closeness, how intimate it is he can’t stop.

he kisses your hands first, always. fingertips, knuckles, the inside of your wrist where your pulse flutters

your shoulders come next. he’ll press his lips there absently while he’s working, when you’re standing beside him reading over his notes. sometimes, he forgets himself, murmuring a distracted “mm, love you” against your skin before his smart brain catches up with his mouth. and oh the way his ears burn when you point it out

also when he’s overwhelmed, when the world is too much, when his mind is too loud, he rests his forehead there, brushing his lips against the curve of your shoulder. he just wants to feel you close

but when he’s really feeling it, when he’s past overthinking and just wants you, it's your calves. he kneels. Ford takes his time, hands so big, shaking a little as he presses his thumb into muscle while tracing a slow path from your ankle up, up, up with his lips

“you never let me appreciate you properly.” he worships you. lets you feel it in every single careful, thorough kiss.

𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒊𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒓

Bill isn’t bound by flesh, but he's bound by desire

he loves mirrors. loves floating there behind you, his golden triangle form looming over you, all-seeing eye staring right into your soul. oh he loves the way you shudder when you see yourself in the reflection, when you see him, wrapping around you

thousands of long, dark limbs curl around your waist, a hand-like thing at your jaw, tilting your head to the side, exposing your skin to him. Bill's mouth appears where his eye should be and oh, that tongue. . .

“nervous, sweet thing? don’t be. i’ll take real good care of ya.”

his tongue is long. obscenely so. it drags over your throat, a slow, hot stroke that sends a jolt straight through you. you hear him laugh delightfully against your skin, because he knows exactly what he’s doing

“aww who’s my favorite little human, huh? who’s my delicious little slab of meat?”

kiss after kiss, mark after mark, he makes you watch. makes you see the way he devours you.

and he doesn’t stop at your neck, oh no, no, no. he follows your spine. mouth pressing open. dragging his long tongue against the curve of your back, your chest, your stomach

“every inch of you is mine. dont you forget that.”

𝒇𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒎𝒄𝒈𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕

Fidds kisses every part of you that makes him smile.

“well, ain’t you the cutest lil’ thing!”

your cheeks. he just can’t help himself, he sees your face and boom! instant smooch. one cheek, then the other, peppering you with quick, excited little kisses

he giggles into kisses. always, always grinning. pecks to your cheek when he’s working, smooches to your temple when you bring him a snack, laughter between every single kiss because he can’t believe his luck.

“gotcha! hehehe, ya oughta see the look on yer face!”

your nose is next. he thinks it’s adorable. boop. peck. boop. peck

“who’s the cutest thing in the whole dang world? ohhhh, that’s right, it’s you!”

sometimes he’s so excited he forgets to aim and accidentally bumps his nose against yours, which only makes him laugh more

but the most special place, the sweetest is your eyelids.

he does it when you’re falling asleep, when you’re curling against him, feeling safe and warm. a press of lips to your closed eyes, so feather-light

“rest easy, darlin’. im right here.” and if he wakes up before you, if the morning sun is spilling golden across your skin, he does it again

because he loves you. because he just can’t help it

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ang3ltine · 7 months ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐔𝐬 - ft Se mi x freader 18 +

Description: Story is based off an apocalyptic game. You and Se mi stumble across a pot basement and get carried away. There, Se mi realises she has a 'daddy kink'.

𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: smoking weed , smut, dirty talk, fingering , use of dildo, being high , soft dom! Se mi, sub! freader

"𝙂𝙤 𝙤𝙣 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙘𝙪𝙢. 𝘾𝙪𝙢 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 𝙄'𝙢 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙤..! 𝘾𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙣𝙤𝙬".

Your mind was already in the clouds, already forgetting about the reason as to why you're both here. To collect supplies and scout the area.

Yet here you were, fucking in a basement full of weed at an abandoned school.

Supplies were running dangerously low so You and Se mi were sent to get some more. Along with a scouting the new area to check for more of the 'infected'.

Mounting your horses, you both set out at dawn, beyond the gates of Jackson. It was about midday when you finally arrived at said location that your boss had give you.

The women next to you was your partner Se mi. She wore a brown leather jacket with padding inside paired with worn out jeans. You on the other hand wore a long dark trench coat with a winter hat and thick grey jeans.

No scouts had checked this area yet so you both were sent here to investigate and bring back sufficient supplies.

"So chief, what do you think? Looks like the area isn't swarmed with infected yet." Se mi pointed out while she stops beside you with her chestnut brown horse.

Rolling your eyes at the ravenette, you carefully examine the map in your hands. "Look, I'm sure they're still here. They might be hiding somewhere."

Unfortunately your hunch was correct. A small hoard of infected indeed have been hiding underneath the gaps of the houses.

They had awakened after hearing the noises from the horses. Having no choice, you both had barred yourselves in an abandoned school after successfully killing a handful of the 'zombies' on the way there.

"Shit that was close," you huffed as you bring out your torchlight and then grabbed Se mi's hand.

"Maybe we can find the break room and turn the generator on. Get some rest and stock up on supplies then leave. How does that sound?"

Se mi was too focused on you holding her hand since you usually don't initiate in skinship unless you wanted to. Smiling to herself, she gives your hand a light squeeze.

"Yeah sure, just don't get scared shitless if an infected happened to sneak in ", she snickered as you huffed in annoyance.

"Way to ruin the mood", you shook your head in disappointment as you both make your way further into the desolate building.

"You still love me though."

It took a while to reach the basement but you eventually did. You both were in shock as you descend the wooden planks of the stairs.

"Holy shit! There's pot down here?"Se mi whisper shouted, just in case somebody heard them.

There were mini greenhouses full of weed and someone's personal belongings scattered everywhere.

You hastily made your way to the breakers and turn the lights and heating on. " You think Old man Richie lives here?", you suggested as you look at some items and papers with charts scattered on a desk.

"Hmm probably, idk I haven't seen him in a while," Se mi says with a rolled up blunt in her mouth, already lighting it.

"You gotta be kidding me, there's no way you're trying to get high now. We're supposed to be looking for supplies!," you huffed as you went to grab the blunt from in between Se mi's lips.

She had already taken a huge drag and blowing it out. The strong smell of weed hung in the air, making you scrunch your nose. You weren't really a huge fan of it. Sw mi knew ofcourse but she's just being a little shit.

"Since we're here we might as well have some fun," Se mi drawled as she pulls you closer to her. You had to cover her mouth with your hand to block the smell from reaching your nose.

"Uh uh , not after having that crap-", you exclaimed before getting cutoff by Se mi. She quickly grabbed hold of your wrist, and brang your hand to her chest. Her heart rate had increased as you look up to see that her eyes had begun to dliate.

"See this? This is how you're making me feel right now. Absolutely crazy," Se mi pointed out as her voice goes on octave deeper. Leaning down she lightly grazes your lips with hers as your breath hitches. She glances into your eyes, silently asking for your permission.

Seeing as there was no way out of this, you gave in. Pressing your lips against hers with fervent as you reach up to entangle you fingers into her raven hair. You tug at it gently, pulling out a low groan from Se mi as she deepens the kiss.

Her lips were slightly chapped but it didn't bother you as much, they were still soft. Tasting the weed on her tongue as she slowly backs you up to the sofa behind you.

Yelping as soon as she picks you up behind your legs and plops you down onto the soft cushions. They were slightly dirty but that wasn't really on your mind right now. Se mi had crawled ontop of you to pull you in for another heated kiss. Whispering sweet nothings againgst your lips while you let out soft moans. Bucking up mindlessly against her hips.

"Daddy please-," you unexpectedly let out making Se mi stop for a second. Her eyes slowly turned dark from lust as she asks you to repeat what you just said. Blinking in confusion you think back to what you said.

"Daddy please...?", Se mi sat there , sinking in the given pet name and something in her snapped. She's never been called that before, but she likes it. She really likes it.

Quickly stripping you, she left you in just your underwear. Burying her face into your neck to leave harsh kisses and bites all along your supple skin. She rips off your bra before attaching her lips onto your erected nipples, sucking and swirling around both buds carefully.

Her hand reaches down towards your heat, already feeling a wet spot on your underwear.

"Huh.. that wet for me already? Just from a few kisses?" She chuckles darkly as she removes the dainty piece of clothing onto the floor beside you.

You feel her push in her index finger into you, slowly, making sure you would feel every inch of her girthy finger. The feeling of her fingers stretching you oh so deliciously got you drooling - fuck even Se mi seemed to be enjoying this more than you. Picking up the pace, she was practically fucking you with her rough fingers. Abusing your sopping wet cunt while mindlessly sucking your boob's, taking turns on each one.

Her pace never once faltered, not when you looked so good when throwing your head back in pleasure and moaning out her name. Se mi, bit each and every inch of skin she could reach, while her fingers remained curled inside you. You were so close.

"Shit Se mi! Gonna cum - please I'm gonna..-"

"Do it. Cum all over my fingers baby" she hissed as she looks down at you through her lashes. Admiring your ruined form with a lazy smirk.

Just like that you saw white. You came so fucking hard from just her fingers, panting and trembling slightly as she helped you ride your orgasm. Until she pulls out her strap tucked underneath her jeans. " wha-- why do you have that on?", you manage to breathe out as she gently taps the plastic onto your stimulated pussy.

"Eh, idk just felt like it," she shrugged as you place you head back onto the armrest of the couch. "That's really dirty of you, you know that right-?". Your breath caught in your throat as she pushes her length into your tight warm cunt. It's been a while since she's fucked you, so deep down, you were excited.

With her hands bruising your ass, she latches her lips onto your left nipple, repeating the action as her dick fucked you deep and slow. You reach down to rest your hand on her cheek and led her into a messy kiss, she responded by pushing her tongue past your lips. Exploring each and every corner of your mouth inside.

The room filled with the smell of weed, sweat and sex as the two of you made out. Se mi smirked againgst your lips as you whine in frustration because she was going too slow.

"What's wrong princess? You want me to go faster?" She muses as you nod profusely.

"Use your words~"

"Please daddy, I want you to go faster...!" Like a flick of a switch, her hands gripped your hips, before thrusting into you. She buckled her hips into you , her dick bruising your cervix and making your velvet walls tighten around her.

"Good girl...", she whispers into your ear as she begins to ruin you.

Her fingers left marks on your skin, she reached up to grope your breasts while kissing you lazily. The weed coming into affect yet again, all while pounding your poor dripping pussy.

Her dick kept on sliding in and out of you while you guys made out on the couch. Smirking proudly at your breathless moans and cries of pleasure. You looked heavenly to her, your wispy hair fell messily around your head like a halo, and your cheeks were tinted a rosy pink.

"That's it gorgeous, keep making those sounds for me only. You like me pounding you like this? Like when I turn you into a mess?"

Oh the way she makes you crumble beneath her touch. How were you supposed to answer when she was fucking you so deeply that you've become dumbed out?

You moaned rather loudly as she presses down on the bulge her dick made on your stomach. Whimpering slightly as you scrape her toned back with your nails, feeling another orgasm approach.

"You gonna cum for me babe? I'm close too, go on cum on this dick! Cream on this dick for me right now".

Her pace quickened yet again and was pounding into you impossibly deeper. Burying the strap deep inside you 'till none of it could be seen visibly. Her grip on you was merciless as you moaned into her mouth, finally letting your orgasm wash out.

With one last harsh thrust into your dripping wet cunt, she bit down onto your neck as she too releases her cum into the plastic dildo attached to her. Your legs trembled once you came on her dick. The aftershocks from your orgasm stayed a while as you both lay together on the couch with Se mi resting ontop of you.

"Damnn, that was hot. Didn't know you had it in you darling," she shakily breathed out with a proud smile on her face, as the affect from the weed had slowly began to wear off.

"So...smart ass, how're we gonna get cleaned up?" You say after a while, crossing your arms across your chest. Glaring at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Hey calm down, I'm sure the old geezer has a shower down here. Don't worry, we'll figure it out".

Pressing soft kisses all over your face and across the dark marks across your body. She slowly starts getting you both dressed.

At the end of the day, she only cares about you and your wellbeing. So soft aftercare is must after a long session like this.

"Next time don't smoke infront of me, at least not on missions."

"Sure thing princess, anything for you".

Ps: I know this is short but I hope you enjoyed it!

@mattm1964

#squid game #squid game x reader #squid game season 2 #se mi x reader #player 380 x reader #squid game smut #ang3ltine

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i-messed-up-big-time · 4 months ago

Text

Someone Precious I

Caleb x Non MC Reader

a/n: guys pls dkm ive never been to a party so when you read that pls give me the benefit of the doubt 😭, also i don't really want to go into too much detail about any of the explicit scenes that are implied, but there may be a possibility of one more detailed in the other parts! i'm finally free from uni guys so i have more time to do some writing! i finally got around to finishing this (i started right before my finals) hopefully you guys like this first part!

Divider creds @/cafekitsune

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, reader is female and is AFAB, mentions of pregnancy, implied intimate relations (not going into detail), pet names used, mentions of drinking/getting drunk (pls drink responsibly), reader throws up, idk what other tags to add!

word count: 2.4k

masterlist

series masterlist

taglist: @aneertawrites @eurydiceknowshesloved @angelichiaro @nommingonfood @ynovaes @animegamerfox

Next Part

You had known them for years, albeit you joined the infamous duo a little later than when they had met each other, but you all were as thick as theives.

Countless days and nights spent together. More often than not if one of you guys were somewhere, the other two were not far behind.

At first you didn't notice that the way you felt about Caleb was something more than just a friend, how could you? You were just a naive child at the time.

That all changed when Caleb went to high school. You started noticing certain things about him, the way his eyes twinkled when he smiled, how good he looked when he was playing basketball.

You soon were able to put a name to those thoughts and feelings, love. It was like you were exposed to whole new world, everything he did caught your attention and pulled you deeper into that black hole called love.

If only you knew how much pain and turmoil this man would bring to your life.

●・○・●・○・●・

It was near the end of your final year in university when it all happened.

You being the ever delusional girl you were always thought that the fleeting touches and eye contact between you and Caleb were something special, something unique to just the two of you.

How could you ever know that he only ever had one person in his sights, one that wasn't you.

You and MC were getting ready to go to a party, it was meant to be the last one of the year and before graduation.

MC had to beg you to come with her this one last time.

"C'mon it'll be so much fun! It'll be our last party before we graduate! Please?"

You couldn't really say no to her when she pulled out the puppy dog eyes.

Outwardly, it looked like you were reluctant, but on the inside you were kind of happy to go. Part of it was because you heard from the grapevine that Caleb might be there since some of his friends were going.

Which leads you to your current dilemma, what outfit to wear. You opted to wear a dark blue dress that reached up to your mid thigh. It was a new dress that had been sitting in the back of your closet for some time, now it finally had the chance to see the light of day.

"Hurry up or we're gonna be late!"

You heard MC yell for you.

"I'm coming!"

You responded, hopping around on one foot trying to strap your shoe onto your foot.

Once you successfully had it strapped to your foot, you quickly made your way out the door with MC.

●・○・●・○・●・

The party was in full swing by the time you guys made it there.

You made a beeline for the drinks, wanting to get some water in your system before anything else.

You spotted MC dancing with this one guy she's been talking to recently. He was a sweet guy who was in the same program as her, infamous for being asleep more often than awake. Seeing him at a party was kind of a surprise, but he probably came here because MC said she would be there.

'Looks like I'm gonna be alone tonight.'

You let out a heavy sigh with that thought. Yeah you heard some rumours that Caleb was gonna be there, but you had yet to spot him.

As if the gods above heard your thoughts, he entered your line of vision.

It's like every time you see him he just looks better than before. He was with his friend Gideon as they chatted up the guys who were hosting this party.

It wasn't long before he made spotted you. He made his way over to you with a bright smile.

"Shouldn't you be out there on the dance floor instead of brooding next to the drinks table?"

He reaches out to ruffle your hair, which not only makes you pout but also blush at the contact.

"Hey stop messing up my hair!"

You exclaim as you pull out your phone to start fixing it, Caleb can only laugh as he reaches out again but this time to help you.

You're so glad the lights in here are dim, cause your face was as red as a tomato.

"There, better?"

You gave yourself a once over in the camera and nodded in agreement, the words not coming out.

You turned to Caleb to ask him if he wanted to dance but the words died in your throat before you could even try.

There he stood with his gaze zeroed in on something, you followed it and noticed he had his sights set on MC and Xavier. If it was anyone else they wouldn't have noticed the way his brows furrowed, but because it was you, you noticed.

You always did, you just chose to ignore it because you knew that MC didn't feel anything for him aside from a love that you feel for family.

Unbeknownst to you, she was well aware of the crush you had on Caleb, silently supporting you from the sidelines. She knew you didn't want to make things awkward by admitting it out loud, but sometimes she wishes you would tell her so she could openly support you.

●・○・●・○・●・

A couple of hours had passed and you were buzzed.

You and MC were on the dance floor having some fun, that's when you felt those hands on your hips. Turning around you saw it was Caleb, your heart was running a mile minute.

You looked over your shoulder to look for MC but she was nowhere in sight, you took this as your sign to enjoy the moment.

Your poor naive heart thought this was the moment that maybe Caleb actually would look at just you.

Little did you know that this moment would lead to a series of events that would forever change your life.

●・○・●・○・●・

Your body felt sore, and suspiciously cold. Opening your eyes you were greeted with the familiar sheets of your bed, the only thing was that you were in it bare.

Sitting up you felt the ache increase tenfold, both in your head and in your back.

You sifted through your memories to try and understand what happened when it came crashing into you all at once.

'I slept with Caleb.'

You pushed yourself of the bed only to fall to your knees, you felt weak and it was definitely due to your activities from last night.

You were all giddy inside thinking maybe you might be able to take a step in a different direction with Caleb.

That's when you noticed it, the bright sticky note on your bedside table,

I'm sorry, it was a mistake.

It was like fate was laughing in your face, your world came crashing down on you.

You weren't stupid, you know what he meant. You had just a little bit of hope, but even that proved futile.

"Am I not good enough?"

You let the tears slip, steady and silent streams. But you didn't let yourself cry for too long, you needed to get up and move on.

Easier said than done.

You pushed yourself to go clean up and change your sheets, wanting nothing more than to occupy your mind with other things, and to an extent it worked.

Until you were back in bed, that's when you started crying again. Only this time, you were sobbing loudly and it was loud enough to alert your roommate of your distress.

MC came barging in, quickly reaching your side to comfort you.

A very small part of you was jealous of her, and you hated that. She was your best friend, someone who always was there for you and wanted the best for you.

Knowing that she had the one thing you so desperately wanted hurt, but not enough to let it come between your friendship. You valued her presence too much in your life, you just hoped she would still feel the same about you with what you were about to tell her.

●・○・●・○・●・

MC had joined you under the covers after you finished laying your heart bare in front of her, she never once cut you off, said anything or made any reaction aside from a look of understanding and hurt.

She was in no way hurt by your words but rather hurt at the situation, she had totally believed that Caleb was into you, dare she say obsessed with you. She saw the looks and the lingering touches that were exchanged between you two.

She thought it would all work out with time, who knew Caleb would screw it all up. Not just that, but you were under the impression that he was in love with her.

She didn't want to downplay your feelings and thoughts, as a woman she understood. She could only be there for you and show you just how wrong you were, she was determined.

You had fallen asleep a little while ago. You were utterly heartbroken and had been non stop crying as you talked, MC's heart went out to you.

You were her sister, her twin, blood relations or not, she valued you more than anything in the world. She never felt like she was only child, you and Caleb were the siblings she always wanted, she'd be damned if she let Caleb ruin that for you guys.

Little did both of them know, they wouldn't hear from Caleb for almost a year and a half.

●・○・●・○・●・

A month later

It was graduation day.

You and MC have been closer than ever since that day. Caleb had went MIA, not replying to either of you or returning your calls.

You would be lying if you said you still weren't upset about that day and the lack of communication.

'I thought we were thick as thieves but clearly not.'

You were finally graduating, the day you worked so hard for that you made it as Valedictorian of your year.

You were just putting on the final touches of your look when MC came barrelling into your room with her hands behind her back.

She gave you a sly smile before revealing what she had behind her back, a small gift bag.

You laughed as you went to your closet and pulled out a gift bag as well.

You guys were on the same wavelength it seemed.

MC was in shock, you had gotten her that necklace that she had been eyeing a few months back, she even noticed the engraving on it.

My forever sister in every universe

If it wasn't for MC being fully ready to go she would have burst into tears right then and there. She pulled you in for a hug and whispered words of thank you.

She put it on right away, it was the perfect gift for a day like today.

MC handed you the bag she brought. It was also a necklace with an engraving on it. You guys definitely were twin flames, her gift having a similar engraving as yours.

Across galaxies, you're still my sister

Putting on the necklace you pulled MC in for another hug, your heart felt full despite the absence of one particular person, but in that moment nothing mattered but the bond between you and MC.

●・○・●・○・●・

It was nerve wracking giving a speech in front of all those people, but at the same time you had this adrenaline rush pumping through your veins.

The graduation ceremony ended with hats in the air and confetti everywhere.

This marked the end of a chapter and the beginning of a new one.

Only, it would be a chapter filled with experiences you never would have imagined.

●・○・●・○・●・

A week later

You woke up feeling uncomfortable, your throat burned and your stomach felt uneasy. Not even a second after opening your eyes you felt last night's dinner making an appearance the same way it went in.

You bolted to the bathroom and emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet.

You probably sounded like you were dying because MC soon came bursting into your room.

She held your hair back and rubbed soothing circles on your back as you heaved, tears clouding your vision.

If there was one kind of pain you hated the most it was the pain that came with throwing up. It was agonizing, and your throat burned.

Once you were done, you moved to rinse your mouth while MC left to go get you a drink with electrolytes.

"Are you okay? I know I'm not the best at cooking but I didn't think dinner would be that bad."

MC joked as she handed you a bottle of coconut water. You let out a small chuckle before taking a sip.

"It's weird, I don't think it was your cooking. I've been feeling super nauseous lately and I can't even stand the smell of some foods."

You tell her, she smacks your arm jokingly for not denying her cooking skills, or the lack of them.

"Wait, what if you're pregnant?"

MC said, you laughed her off.

"No way, I haven't even slept..."

The words died in your throat, flashbacks from that night came crashing into your headspace. You never forgot that night, but you definitely did not remember whether you guys had used protection or not.

MC offered to stop by the pharmacy to grab you a couple of pregnancy test, saying it didn't hurt to at least try.

While you waited for her you looked through your calendar, trying to remember when you had your last period.

'Shit. I'm late.'

You paced around the room nervously fidgeting with your fingers, your thoughts were a mess.

MC came back in record breaking time with a couple of bags, one filled with different brands of tests and the other had some of your favourite snacks.

●・○・●・○・●・

You followed the directions and sat on the edge of the tub with MC, waiting for the results.

You were bouncing your knee, the nervousness kicking in ten fold. MC placed a hand on your leg in an effort to reassure you, her eyes saying that she would support you no matter what.

MC checked the results first, you didn't think you could handle looking at it.

She turned around and showed you one of the tests, and that's when you saw it.

Two red lines.

You were pregnant.

Next Part

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 9 months ago

Text

With Me Forever

Dark!Mommy!Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Word count: 1.3K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Stockholm syndrome, Dubcon, kidnapping/confinement, psychological conditioning/manipulation, Mommy kink, emotional manipulation, pet play, loss of autonomy, magical manipulation, breeding kink, objectification, power play

Authors notes: Man Idk who took over while writing this one, but they were amazing.

The room is dim, heavy velvet curtains drawn over the windows, allowing only slivers of muted sunlight to filter through. You’ve been here for days—weeks, maybe even months. Time feels warped in this house, your new prison. Every surface is lavish, grand even, but that doesn’t dull the sharp edge of fear that grips your heart.

Agatha is watching you again. Her presence is unmistakable—she's never too far from you, whether you see her or not. You’d taken notice of a cicada in the room she kept you in. It never got too close to you, but always somewhere you could see it.

Her deep, sultry voice curls around your senses like smoke as she enters the room, heels clicking against the hardwood floor. She’s dressed impeccably, as usual, in a pair of dark purple suit pants, a white button up and a navy blue overcoat, her sharp eyes glittering with amusement as she watches you on the bed.

"Good morning, my little bunny," she purrs, her voice sending a shiver down your spine. "Have you decided to behave today?"

You turn your head away, trying to ignore the way your body reacts to her. Every fiber of your being wants to resist her, to fight back against the constant manipulation, but it’s hard—too hard—especially when your body betrays you. You hate how she’s gotten under your skin, how her touch has become something you crave, even as your mind rebels.

Her hands are the only touch you’ve felt in a long time let alone a nice touch, something tender that doesn’t leave a mark on you. Your body wanted more of it even though you knew this was all wrong. She kidnapped you. She’s keeping you here for her own amusement and pleasure.

Agatha chuckles darkly, sensing your internal struggle. She moves closer, her fingers trailing lightly along the curve of your neck. You flinch, but you don’t pull away. You can't.

"My sweet girl," she whispers, her lips brushing against your ear, "it’s only a matter of time before you stop fighting. You’ll see that everything I do is for you, for us. I could give you so much more than anyone else ever could including that other little witch you were so fond of. All you have to do is surrender."

Her words are a poison, dripping into your thoughts, planting seeds of doubt. She’s always been careful, never harsh and certainly never violent. Instead, she plays with your mind, with your desires, making you question everything.

Is it really so bad to want her?

To give in?

"You and I could be so much together," Agatha continues, her hand sliding down your arm, her nails grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver. "I know what you can do and I could teach you things that would make the world bow at your feet."

You close your eyes, trying to block her out, but it’s impossible. She’s everywhere, inside your head, inside your heart. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, you feel yourself breaking, crumbling under the weight of her words, her presence.

"You’ll never leave," she says softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Not because I won’t let you, but because you won’t want to."

And the terrifying part is that you know she’s right.

You feel her hand move over the curves of your body, goosebumps running over your whole body. Her fingers were always freezing as she somehow made your skin feel like it was on fire. The only movement you were allowed was to arch into her touch. Your body once again betraying you as it did just that, asking for more from her as you don’t dare look her in the eyes. She chuckles, dark and low, at the action.

“Your body doesn’t lie to me bunny. Look at me. Look at Mommy.” She’d started to call herself that. Mommy, you thought it was just a jab at all the Mommy issues you have and it very well might be the case, but fuck you just wanted to make Mommy happy. Yet you still want to fight against her. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction. Not yet at least.

Her hand starts rubbing your thigh, each stroke drawing closer to your heated core. You close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. You feel her movement and the bed dips down between your legs. You’re moved slightly with where her weight is and you feel a hand on each thigh.

Her strokes are gentle as she leans down, her heated mouth meaning your skin. A rush of heat to your core hits and a needy whine comes out of you.

“All you have to do is ask, bunny.” She mumbles against your skin. This was the game that was played every time. Like some even more twisted form of conditioning. She’d wait until you were all needy, begging for her cock, begging to be bred by her. It wasn’t fair. You bite your lip debating if you want to hold out this time, you’ve done it a few times, but you’d always regret it because she’d work you up and ruin your orgasm each time.

“Please Mommy…need you…need you inside of me…” You manage out and Agatha looks down at you, slowly rubbing around your overly sensitive nub, but not actually touching it. You swallow hard before continuing. You know what she’s waiting for and you want to say it. You want her to know, need her to know.

“I’m yours Mommy please I’ll be your good bunny! Need Mommy’s cock inside of me. Only yours makes me feel good. No one else could make me feel good like you Mommy. No one could make me cum like you do Mommy!” You feel tears prick the corners of your eyes.

A smirk appears on Agatha’s face, a snap of her fingers and your clothes are gone. She has her purple enchanted strap out and ready. It was already pushing at your soaked entrance. Making it easy for Agatha to slip inside of you.

“F-fuck…” You arch into her, not realizing how much you needed her.

“You’re so tight, bunny. You feel amazing. Mommy’s going to make sure you feel amazing.” She manages out, you can tell she’s breathless just from entering you. Feeling how tight and wet you were.

“Please Mommy I’ll be your best bunny ever!”

She simply smirks as she grips your hips and before you can say anything else she’s pounding into you relentlessly. You can’t help but moan as she hits your spot over and over again. You don’t feel one of her hands move up to your head, it isn’t until you hear the Latin come out her mouth that you know she’s using her magic she’s making you more fuzzy, more needy for her. Another form of conditioning, her magic.

You watch her fingers, watching her hand flex and fingers move. It isn’t her magic making you fuzzy and needy. You grab her wrists and don’t think about it as you take her fingers into your mouth, sucking on them eagerly.

You look up at her with half lidded eyes, dark and lustful. You were ready to be completely hers. She could see it in your eyes.

“That’s my good bunny. Just like that. You’re Mommy’s bunny aren’t you?” She asks, her voice full of lust, her heated breath you could swear you saw. You nod and mumble an ‘mhmm’ around her fingers.

You don’t think it’s possible but she speeds up. You’re moaning around her fingers and she can tell you’re close. She keeps her pace, letting you fall over the edge as you let her fingers go, choosing to lunge forward to hold onto her as you rocked your hips into her. Her hands find their way to your back, her natural nails clawing down your back.

“My bunny.” You feel her fill you, her hot cum hitting against your walls. You were hers completely and you had been for a while, you knew that. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be, you don’t even remember that other witch’s name.

“Your bunny Mommy forever.”

#ley writes #ley writes one shots #leys kinktober writing #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #dark!fic #dark!agatha harkness #dark!agatha harkness x fem!reader #mommy!agatha harkness #mommy!agatha harkness x fem!reader #stockhom syndrome

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wonniesdoll · 3 months ago

Text

“Better Now?” - lhs

Desi Female Reader x Boyfriend Heeseung

Warnings: smut without plot, dom heeseung x sub reader, he calls you princess, mention of a paayal (desi anklet), you're horny and submissive, idk what else there is. mdni 18+ only !!!

divider by: @uzmacchiato

please please please comment or reblog if you enjoy my works! this is gonna be my last smut for a while until I learn how to write it better ngl.

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA BE ON MY TAGLIST FOR FUTURE WORKS ☺️🩷

It’s been exactly two days.

Two days since you got folded in half and railed to the edge of life by your lovely boyfriend.

Two days of Heeseung spoiling you rotten.

Feeding you snacks, massaging your sore thighs, running you warm baths, letting you nap on his chest while he stroked your hair.

But now...

Now the soreness is almost completely gone.

And Heeseung can tell.

The way you keep squirming in his lap while you watch TV together?

The way your hands keep sneaking under his shirt, pretending to be “cold”?

The way you keep looking up at him with that innocent little sparkle in your eye, even as you shift your hips against him just a little too much?

Yeah.

Heeseung notices.

And he’s losing his goddamn mind.

"You’re doing it on purpose," he mutters against your ear, his voice low and dangerous.

You blink up at him, all wide-eyed and fake innocent.

"Doing what?" you can't surpress the little smirk making the corner of your glossy lips twitch.

Heeseung lets out a sharp breath through his nose, hands tightening around your waist.

"You’re such a little fucking brat," he growls, squeezing you tighter.

You giggle.

Giggle.

Like you know exactly what you’re doing.

Heeseung doesn’t even bother pretending anymore.

He grabs you by the hips, lifts you effortlessly, and pins you underneath him on the couch.

You gasp, eyes widening.

He’s looking down at you like he’s two seconds away from devouring you whole.

"You feeling better now, princess? Not sore anymore?" he asks, voice dark and syrupy sweet.

You nod, breath hitching.

Heeseung smiles—sharp and wolfish.

"Good," he murmurs. "Because I’m about to ruin you again."

And he does.

He yanks your his oversized hoodie up over your head, tossing it somewhere behind him.

You’re not wearing anything underneath. Just a pair of tiny cotton panties and that delicate silver paayal still jingling softly around your ankle.

Heeseung curses under his breath, dragging his hand up your bare thigh, your waist, your ribs, like he can't touch you fast enough.

"So fucking pretty," he mutters, almost to himself. "So soft. So mine."

He leans down, kisses you. Deep and filthy, tongue sliding against yours, teeth nipping at your bottom lip.

You moan into his mouth, clutching at his hair, pulling him closer.

Heeseung pulls away just enough to breathe, forehead resting against yours.

"Tell me to stop," he rasps. "Tell me now if you don’t want this, baby."

Your answer is to yank him back down and kiss him harder.

Heeseung groans into your mouth, finally snapping.

He kisses his way down your neck, your collarbones, leaving dark bruises everywhere he goes.

"You’re not wearing anything under these panties," he growls, snapping the waistband against your hip. "You wanted this, didn’t you?"

You whimper, nodding frantically.

Heeseung smiles—feral and devastating—and peels your panties down your legs with agonizing slowness.

"Look at you," he murmurs, spreading your thighs wide, thumb brushing lightly over your puffed up folds, the soft hair glistening brightly. "Already so wet. Dripping for me."

You hide your face in your hands, overwhelmed, but Heeseung just chuckles darkly.

"No hiding," he says, prying your hands away. "I wanna see every single expression you make when I fuck you."

And fuck you he does.

He slides two fingers inside you first, curling them just right, working you open slowly, murmuring soft praises against your ear.

"You’re taking me so well, baby," he says, voice thick. "So fucking perfect."

By the time he finally presses into you, thick and hot and big, you’re shaking with need.

Heeseung curses again, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he sinks into you inch by slow, torturous inch.

"Fuck," he groans. "You’re so tight, baby. So good and wet for me."

You sob his name, clinging to his shoulders.

He moves slowly at first, giving you time to adjust.

Long, deep thrusts that have you seeing stars.

But soon, you’re whining and begging, "Faster, harder, please please please-"

And Heeseung gives it to you.

He snaps his hips against yours, hard and deep, his hand gripping your thigh, hiking it up around his waist to angle you just right.

You’re gasping, crying out, nails raking down his back.

The room is filled with the filthy sounds of skin slapping, the wet squelch of your bodies colliding, the desperate little whimpers you can’t hold back.

"You feel so good, baby," Heeseung pants against your neck. "You were made for me. Fucking made for me."

You’re close, you can feel it building, coiling tight in your belly.

Heeseung knows, too.

He reaches between you, rubbing tight circles on your clit, whispering filth against your ear.

"Cum for me, pretty girl," he growls. "Let me feel you."

It doesn’t take much.

You fall apart with a scream, clenching around him so hard he chokes on a groan.

Heeseung fucks you through it, chasing his own high, hips stuttering wildly.

He spills inside you with a broken moan, collapsing on top of you, still buried deep.

You lie there for a long moment, tangled together, panting, trembling.

Heeseung finally lifts his head, brushing your sweaty hair out of your face.

"You okay, baby?" he murmurs, voice hoarse.

You nod, dazed, tears clinging to your lashes.

Heeseung smiles and kisses them away.

"My good girl," he whispers. "You did so good."

He pulls out carefully, scooping you up and carrying you to the bathroom again.

Another warm shower, more soft kisses, more whispered praises against your skin.

Heeseung is obsessed with you.

And he’s gonna make sure you never forget it.

fin.

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #sunghoon smut #heeseung smut #jungwon smut #jake smut #jay smut #enhypen fluff #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung #lee heesung x reader #heeseung x you #enhypen jake #enha #enha x reader #enha imagines

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y3sterdaysproblem · 7 months ago

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hiii, i don’t know if it’s okay to leave requests but can you maybe write with your fwb an episode where chris having a really bad day or struggling with sth and reader realize and givin him really soft loving sex and idk if they talk about it or just don’t have to talk and he just thanks her. i don’t know if that makes any sense, english is not my first language, sorry. i love your series, lots of love x

it’s absolutely okay to leave requests I love it

also I don’t feel like ‘loving sex’ is something that’s necessarily in the cards for them, so here’s my take on how she’d be there for him when he’s having a bad day

it’s not unusual to be perched on top of chris, bouncing on his lap while he sat back against the headboard, your hands placed on his shoulders for support as his hands rested on your waist to help you, but what was unusual was the emptiness in his eyes, the way he stared blankly at where your bodies met, no sounds leaving his lips. it looked like he was somewhere else, somewhere where he didn’t have you on top of him, using his body for your own pleasure.

“chris,” you whine, moving one of your hands from his shoulder to his jaw, grabbing his face and tilting it up towards yours. it took him a moment for his vision to focus as he looked up at you, blue eyes glazed over absently. “what has gotten into you?” you stop your movements and sit on top of him with his dick bottomed out inside you, sighing out at the feeling.

“what?” he questions, staring into your eyes confusedly. his hands slide down your hips and to your thighs, resting there for a few moments as he thought over your words. “nothing. keep going,” he demands, patting your skin.

“no, you’re not even into it, why would I keep going?” you question, keeping your grip on his jaw firm. he’s annoyed, though, and he reaches up to shove your hand away from his face, a bit harder than you’d expect him to.

“i’m fucking fine, are you going to keep going or should I leave?” he snaps at you, his eyes thinning out as a dark expression takes over his face, his mood shifting.

“i’ll keep going,” you assure him, putting your hand back on his shoulder as you start to grind on him, letting out small moans from the way his cock moved inside you, doing your best to avoid any friction for him. “if you tell me what’s wrong.”

chris groans and rolls his eyes at you, reaching his hands around your body to grab your ass and pull you up before dropping you back down again, making you gasp as you stare down at him. “none of your fucking business,” he grumbles, repeating his actions.

“you’re making it my business by being terrible in bed,” you tell him through your moans, starting to pick up your pace again with the help of his hands on your body.

he’s unhappy with that comment, almost fuming as he thinks about what you just said. he drops his gaze back down to where he disappears inside of you, feeling a sense of hollowness in his chest at the way he felt almost nothing at the sight, feeling like his dick was hard out of pure instinct and not pleasure. he lets out an angry breath, frustrated with himself for feeling like this, for feeling so… so defective.

“it’s not enough,” he mumbles, his voice barely reaching your ears. you stop again, examining the way he keeps his head down and tries to make himself feel something by looking at the way your body fell on top of his own.

“what?” you question, slowly lowering yourself back down onto him as to put your focus on whatever he had say. “couldn’t hear you.”

chris groans and reaches up to his face to rub it harshly, dragging a hand through his hair as he picked up his head to meet your eyes again with his own pleading ones. “I said it’s not enough.”

you stare down at him for a couple of beats, not fully understanding what he means, until it clicks. the sex wasn’t enough to rid his mind of his racing thoughts, it wasn’t enough to silence the inner turmoil riddling his mind. you nod in understanding, reaching up to cup his face again, this time gentler as your palm rested on his cheek, keeping your gaze locked on his. you lean forward to press a brief kiss on his lips before pulling away and shooting him a small smile.

“use me,” you tell him quietly, thumb brushing over his skin in a comforting manner. “whatever you need, until it’s enough. use me.”

your words send a shiver down his spine, finally feeling some sort of connection from his mind to his body as he soaks in the meaning. he nods in agreement, digging his fingers into your hips again as he surges forward to connect your lips once more, flipping your bodies over until he was positioned on top of you, body resting between your legs. his thrusts instantly went into an unrelenting pace, causing you to pull away from the kiss as a moan rips from your mouth, head pressing back into the pillow as he moves inside of you, dragging along your walls, filling you up in a way that seemed irreplaceable.

“fuck, chris,” you groan, hands coming up to drag along his back, until he sits up on his knees and snatches your hands, leaning back down to pin them over your head, causing you to gasp.

“shut up,” he speaks, voice gruff and demanding. “please just shut the fuck up for once.”

he’s got one hand pinning your wrists down, and the other wrapped around your thighs to hold them both close to his chest, the change in angle causing you to have to bite your lip to stay quiet, unable to stop the small whimpers slipping through your nostrils.

he’s pounding into you, your brain turning to mush from the stimulation, hands clenched into fists above your head where he held you down, your thighs starting to shake under the grip his forearm had laid across them.

“chr-chris,” you gasp out against his wishes, jaw falling slack as the pleasure builds up in your body.

“oh my god,” he grunts out, moving his one hand that’s holding your legs up to your throat, letting your legs fall open as he leaned over your body again, squeezing lightly to keep you quiet. “you can never fucking listen.”

your eyes tear open as his grip tightens, looking up at the man that peers down at you with dark eyes, your eyebrows furrowing. his dominance was seeping from every part of him, fueled by anger and frustration, and though he was supposed to be using you to get rid of his aggravation, you couldn’t help but feel the most turned on you’ve felt in a while, completely at his mercy.

his one hand on your wrists lifted up and he used his fingers to uncurl your fist, interlacing his fingers with yours and keeping your one hand pressed into the pillow, grounding both you and him, your other coming up to grip at his wrist that was in front of you.

your eyes rolled back in your head as your orgasm washed over you, body shaking underneath chris’s, choked breaths trying to slip from your mouth as you came.

“there we go,” chris hums as he watches you, eyes trailing over your body, finally landing on where his dick slid in and out of your soaked pussy, your legs lazily falling apart on either side of him. “taking me so well, letting me use you. fuck.” he moves his hand down from your throat and grips your waist, tucking his face into your neck as he listens to you gasping for breath, feeling your hand frantically coming up to thread through his hair, holding him close.

“fucking me so good,” you whimper, tightening your hand in his hair.

he pulls his face from your neck and slides his hand down to the back of your knee, pushing one of your legs up to change the angle, making you cry out as his hips started to stutter and his moans got louder, signaling his own orgasm.

“chris!” you gasp, squeezing his hand that was still interlaced with yours above your head. his head dropped and his eyes clenched shut as he buried his hips into yours, groaning as he came, his load filling you up, dick twitching inside of you as he breathed heavily, a thin sheen of sweat covering his torso now.

“fuck,” he mumbles after a couple moments when he catches his breath, opening his eyes to look down at you, seeing you already looking up at him, a small, brazen grin forming on your face. “stop,” chris laughs, shaking his head at you as you finally let a small laugh slip out of your lips.

“i’m not sure what you’re so mad about, but we should have angry sex more often,” you say in a teasing tone, wiggling your eyebrows.

“shut up,” he groans, but he leans down and presses your lips together in a sloppy kiss, his hand dropping your leg and coming back to grab your throat again, holding you in place. you kiss him back eagerly, staring up at him through your lashes when he pulls away.

he stares at you for a moment, trying to think of what to say, before he settles on a small and simple, “thanks.”

#ave’s library 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 #⤷ toxic!fwb!chris x toxic!fwb!reader ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖#⤷ toxic!fwb!chris ⊹ ࣪ ˖#⤷ toxic!fwb!reader! ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x you #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic

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starkeymeow · 3 months ago

Text

❛ we make each other alive . .

does it matter if it hurts? ❜

I’M COMING, WAIT FOR ME.

PLOT you enter the hunger games a proud weapon of your district, only to find your sharpest blade is the boy beside you, and you’re not sure which one of you the capitol wants to break first.

CONTENT chapter eleven, best read in dark mode, rafe cameron x reader au, feast, im TIRED I WANNA BE DONE WITH THESE GAMES HELP, lowkey jj dies here ok warning, me not knowing how to make this non cringe LMFAO im sorry ok its also fast paced bc idk realistically it would be too bc who tf drags out a death idk ok sorry goodbye

main masterlist | series ml | tag list | previous next

you pull your knees up tighter to your chest the second that fanfare cuts through.

you lift your head slightly, your eyes sore from crying. it’s not just for kie, but for everything. the stress, the cameras, the deaths surely, the mutts that could come back at any moment if they wanted. it’s all still clinging to you like sweat.

the death recap of the night begins.

the first face that flickers is that boy, the one who tackled you. turns out he was from district three. he’s got a scratch on his chin in his photo and his hair’s slicked back like someone took time to style him. he looks tired, even in that still image. he clearly didn’t want to be there in the first place.

a few seconds later, it flicks again. kie.

you feel your heart sink all over again.

her photo is clean. there’s no bruises, no blood. not the way you last saw her. not the way she looked when you heard her scream jj’s name through a mouthful of blood. in her picture, she’s confident. her chin’s lifted, her hair’s beautiful. she was ready. ready to win.

you frown, shifting your position, letting your chin drop onto your arm, then slowly leaning to the side until your cheek presses there instead. you don’t want to look anymore. you don’t want to imagine your face up there. or jj’s. or rafe’s. but you do anyway.

you think about the photos they made you take, the tribute profile shots they said. it’s necessary for your page, that photo is attached to your name everywhere. and you remember thinking, what’s the point of this? but now you know. the point is this. to see your face up there like some kind of announcement.

you press your lips to your arm and stare at the ground.

somewhere beside you, the leaves shift. an arm moves across your shoulders. it’s rafe.

he’s not awake, just leaning back against the tree behind you, his eyes closed, adjusting in his sleep. he must’ve thought it’d be more comfortable this way, slinging an arm around your neck rather than letting it get crushed between your sides. the weight of it is warm and grounding, and for a second, you don’t move.

you glance over at him quietly, careful, like you’re afraid even just looking will wake him. his face is calm, more relaxed than it’s been all night. maybe even the last few days. you don’t know if it makes you feel better or worse.

you shift your gaze again.

jj’s a few trees away, still as anything, his spear beside him in the dirt. he hasn’t laid down. he hasn’t even closed his eyes. he’s just been leaning against the trunk, his head tilted up slightly.

he didn’t eat earlier. not a bite. you don’t think he even could.

you chew the inside of your lip, watching him.

“good morning, tributes.”

light’s peeking in just barely. you stir awake with a tight ache in your neck and your knees still pulled up like your body forgot it could stretch.

you recognize the voice though. it’s a gamemaker. has to be. you rub your hands over your face and keep listening.

“we hope you’re well-rested, because today brings you an opportunity.”

you squint upward.

“as a reminder, the games are not only a matter of strength, but strategy. survival. will. resourcefulness. and today, we’re giving you a chance to show us all of that and more.”

you frown, your brows drawing together. something’s coming. you can feel it.

“there will be a feast at the cornucopia.”

your stomach knots and you shift upright more fully, palms against the dirt as you sit on your heels now, alert.

“each of you needs something desperately. you will find that something in a backpack marked with your district number, at the cornucopia, at dawn.”

you freeze, eyes widening slightly. it’s a trap. it has to be. at least that’s what your instincts tell you. but you’ve seen the games before, this feast is real. the remaining tributes make it a trap for others.

“think hard about refusing to show up.”

the voice is colder now, like they’re trying to root out your fear.

“for some of you, this will be your last chance.”

then silence. you stare straight ahead for a few seconds, the last words of the announcement ringing inside your skull.

you exhale and glance over your shoulder. rafe’s awake. he’s watching you already, one arm propped up on his knee. when your eyes meet, he gives you a faint little smile. one of those yep, we’re doing this expressions.

you blink back a tired laugh and sigh through your nose, shaking your head.

“of course we’re going,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

you sit in silence for a long time after, curled up beside rafe while jj stays off on his own. the three of you don’t speak at first. it’s just quiet nods, silent understanding, sharpened weapons. there’s no need for words when the stakes are this high. the bags will be there at dawn, and each one holds something vital. something the capitol knows you can’t live without.

you can’t risk not going.

but that doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous. there’s still two more tributes out there. they could be separated, could be together. either way, they’re a threat. they’re just as desperate.

you consider every angle. maybe they’ll try to take you out before you even reach the field. maybe they’ll be hiding in the cornucopia already. maybe they won’t show at all, just too afraid to try. it’s a gamble no matter how you look at it.

you move fast anyway. it’s nearly twenty minutes before the trees thin enough for you to glimpse the field. your body stills before your mind does , and there it is. the cornucopia.

four backpacks sit out in the open, perfectly aligned on a steel table placed right at the mouth of the horn. your district number practically glows against the fabric. it’s to the very left.

you expected a drop before you even got there, like hovercraft lights or a countdown. something. but no, they were ready for you. like the gamemakers knew you’d come early. they knew you’d want to stake it out first. they’re always a step ahead.

you drop to a crouch. no movement, no other tributes, not yet.

you feel rafe beside you. jj crouches on the opposite end of the brush, his spear steady in one hand. this is it. the plan’s simple. you just wait for the first sign of movement. whoever dares to step out first, they become your target. you’ll be faster, quieter. you’ll get there before they can blink, or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

you dig your boots into the ground, press your back to the trunk of a tree, and breathe slow. the field is empty. it won’t stay that way for long.

. . . until it actually does.

and what the fuck? is no one coming for their bag?

you shift your weight again, your leg cramping a little from being crouched for so long. rafe’s still posted in place beside you, silent and still like he’s carved out of stone. and jj, well, jj’s lost his patience already. you can tell by the way he keeps standing up and sitting back down, like he’s daring himself to just go for it.

after thirty minutes, he was already pacing. now, he’s dragging a rock across the ground like he’s trying to carve out a new distraction. your stomach grumbles for what feels like the tenth time, but you ignore it. you focus on the treeline.

did the other tributes not hear the announcement? or are they just that scared?

it’s weird. you thought someone would be desperate enough to try. but now it just feels like the gamemakers are waiting, watching you all from their fancy screens in the capitol. watching to see who’ll make a move first.

you glance over at rafe sometimes to see if maybe he’ll finally say it's time to stop waiting. maybe decide that it's not worth it. just grab the bags and go. you’d listen. you’d follow. but he doesn’t move. he just stays still with that same quiet kind of confidence that’s started to gnaw at your nerves. you hate how calm he looks. like he trusts something about this.

you rub your eyes, your hand dragging slow across your face. the exhaustion clings to your skin.

jj mutters something under his breath and you hear the clink of something metallic as he digs around in his backpack. he’s clearly over it, the silence and the waiting. he looks like a kid stuck in a time-out who’s bored and ready to punch something.

you sigh and crawl over, sitting down beside him. you bump your shoulder into his gently, just enough to let him know you’re there. he doesn’t say anything, just shifts a little to the side, still focused on whatever he’s digging out.

you rest your head against his shoulder and watch his hands. he finally pulls something out. it’s small, sharp-looking, half-wrapped in cloth but clearly mechanical. your eyes flicker over the details, the way the wires wind tightly around a tiny trigger. it takes you a second before you recognize it.

“is that kie’s?” you ask. he doesn’t speak. just nods. you look at it for another second before looking away. it makes your chest feel too tight.

“there’s a few,” jj mutters, fingers adjusting one of the small pins in the trap. “gonna set them up at the table so if the others grab their bags, they get caught.”

he stands before you can say anything else, slinging his spear back over his shoulder and holding the traps carefully in one hand.

“do you guys want me to get yours too?”

rafe answers before you do, “we’ll get it.”

you look back once to see rafe watching jj with that same unreadable calm. but jj doesn’t argue. he just nods, turns, and heads off, jogging into the open like he’s daring the arena to try something.

you watch him move across the field. it feels like something should happen, like a cannon should fire, or someone should run out screaming. but nothing does.

you just track jj’s every move. your eyes flick back and forth between him and the trees. your fingers grip the hilts of your daggers, slow and steady as you pull them from their sheath. no sudden movements. not yet. not unless something gives you a reason. you just know you’re there to back him if he gets jumped.

jj makes it to the cornucopia easy, all smooth confidence in the way he drops his spear onto the table. it clatters against the metal, you can even hear it from where you are.

he’s focused, flipping the traps over in his hands, turning them this way and that, trying to find the right angles. he’s careful, faster than he should be for something that delicate. he tucks each one just behind the bags at the base where they’ll be out of sight. it’s smart. if someone tries to grab one without noticing . . . maybe they’ll lose a hand. or worse. you don’t know. they’re kie’s contraptions. you’re not even sure if jj knows what they do.

after the last trap clicks into place, he snatches the district four bag and grabs his spear again, then starts running.

and that’s when you see it.

movement. it’s not big or fast or anything. but something, someone, is at the treeline, across the way. your body locks up for a second. there’s a girl. she’s peeking out just barely, her head low, eyes squinting toward jj like she’s trying to calculate something. and you can tell by the way she flinches that she didn’t expect him to be there.

you don’t hesitate. you whistle. loud.

jj jerks his head up instantly, eyes locking on yours mid-stride. you point. your arm slices through the air, finger held out firm toward the girl.

jj skids a little as he slows, turning just in time to catch sight of her. and then he’s gone again, bolting, fast as hell, feet kicking up dirt behind him.

the girl panics. you can see it. she ducks back into the green like she wasn’t ever there at all.

but you know better. you and rafe move at the exact same time. you grab your pack, your fingers curling tight around the straps as you shove your daggers back into place and sprint after them both. you’ll get your feast bag later.

the field stretches too long, too wide, but you don’t stop. your backpack shifts against your shoulders with every stride, jostling uncomfortably, but you keep moving.

then—rafe. he veers to the left of you, yelling over his shoulder, “i’ll get it, just stay with jj!”

your head snaps toward him, eyes wide, but he’s already gone, racing straight for the cornucopia table like it’s the only thing keeping you both alive. you almost call his name, but you trust him. you turn your focus back forward and push harder, legs burning now.

jj’s just barely ahead, fast and reckless, tearing across the field. and you, you chase him. every time you think you’re catching up, he’s already ducking through the trees again, vanishing like a shadow just ahead of you. you keep your eyes locked on him.

you’re in the woods now, leaping over exposed roots. ducking under low-hanging limbs. things graze your arms and catch your clothes, but you barely feel them. you know where he’s going. you’ve been this way before. there’s water up ahead. he’s chasing her there. it’s the only reason to head this deep, this fast.

the girl, she’s gone from view. she’s been too far away from you for you to see her anyway.

you move faster, your feet hit the ground harder. your legs ache like they might give out, but you grit your teeth and tear through the forest like something wild, something hunting. you feel like a predator closing in, tracking every sound and movement, heart pounding loud in your ears.

then, jj disappears. he just slips through a patch of trees and just like that, he’s gone. your chest tightens immediately. you swerve between trunks, leap over a moss-covered rock, barely avoiding slamming into a branch.

then you hear it. there’s a scream. it must be hers, but it’s short and panicked.

there’s a struggle. you can hear it, rustling, splashing, the sound of someone grunting, fighting back. and you know you’re close. you know this is the water. they’re here.

you shove through the last of the brush, branches snapping around you. your hand grips the hilt of your dagger just in case. the leaves claw at your skin as you force your way past, and then you see them.

jj’s with the girl, thrashing, tangled up in each other by the edge of the water. your breath catches.

is that diamonte?

jj’s eventually waist-deep, soaking wet, his arms locked around someone who doesn’t want to be touched. diamonte is twisting in his grip like a feral thing, her fingers clawing for anything, her feet pushing off the muddy floor of the lake, trying to lunge deeper, like submerging herself is going to somehow make her invisible or safer.

it’s pathetic, the way she thrashes. stupid, even. and for a second, you think: how the hell did she make it this far?

but you already know. she probably ran, laid low, waited. but it was only a matter of time before someone got to her.

jj tries to drag her back toward shore, but the moment his grip slips, she turns on him, faster than you expect. her elbow jams into his ribs and before he can recover, she’s on his back, wrapping around him like a snake. her hand goes to his throat, the other to the knife at her hip.

you run forward but stop at the edge, frozen.

she’s got the blade pressed just under his chin, not enough to bleed yet, but it wouldn’t take much. jj’s hands go up immediately, his chest rising fast, not struggling. he’s watching you. his eyes are locked on yours like a signal.

you swear that if she does it, if she really does it, you’ll kill her.

you take a step forward, heart pounding. “diamonte.”

she doesn’t look at you. her breathing’s ragged. her face is sunken, her skin pale. she’s still probably gone days without food, maybe more. her cheekbones look sharper than they should. her eyes are sunken.

jj winces slightly under her arm, but doesn’t move.

finally, she speaks. “this is what they want.” her voice is hoarse like she hasn’t used it in days. “they want me to slit his throat, and then you’ll come at me, and then someone else will come at you. and it’ll go on. until we’re all fucking dead.”

you don’t say anything. not yet.

she tilts her head slightly, like she’s listening for something only she can hear. her jaw flexes. her eyes finally cut to you. she’s literally unstable.

“you still don’t get it,” she says, laughing once, breathless. it’s not funny. “you still think this is about districts. about bags. about who kills who.”

she presses the knife a little deeper. jj holds perfectly still. his mouth opens like he’s going to say something.

“they’ve taught you so well,” she hisses. “you really think dying out here means something. you, topper, jj, what were you trying to prove? that you’re strong? that you’re worthy?”

she notices when your eyebrows furrow at their names. she smiles. “topper thought he was brave. that if he just fought hard enough, they’d let him go home. and now he’s, what? dust in a cannon? a body that the capitol has to do whatever they please with it? i thought he’d win, if anything, but look at us. we’re still here.”

your hand clenches around your dagger.

“my brother thought the same thing last year,” she mutters. “district one’s golden boy. volunteered like it was his birthright. the kind of kid they throw a parade for before the blood even dries. said he wanted to die for something.”

her lips curl, but it’s not a smile. it’s something bitter.

“you know what they sent back to my mom? a pin. a fucking pin.”

jj’s breathing harder now. the knife hasn’t moved. you can tell he’s trying to stay calm, but his hands twitch slightly, like he’s getting ready. or like he’s asking you again to do something.

“you’re just like them,” diamonte says, her gaze pinned to yours. “just better fed.”

“i’m not here to give them what they want,” she whispers. “i’m not dying for their cameras. and neither is he.”

her grip tightens, the knife shifts. you know that if you so much as try to move, she’ll kill him just to prove a point.

you’re watching her come undone in real time. and still, jj doesn’t fight. he just looks at you like he’s already decided what’s going to happen. like he’s already accepted it.

no. no, no, no.

if she does it, she better be ready to die. you’ll drag her down into that water yourself.

you barely hear her as she’s still talking. it all blurs together. something about how they’re watching, something about how they’re not showing this part, how panem doesn’t get to see the truth. “they’re probably cutting to a fucking squirrel climbing a tree while i tell the truth,” she spits, mouth foaming. “they won’t show this. they never do.”

you tune it out.

your eyes are on jj, only him. he’s trying to stay still, but you see the tension in his arms, the way his fingers are inching upward, like he’s thinking of grabbing the blade or twisting out of her grip. idiot. don’t be a fucking idiot.

he’s looking down at the knife like he’s studying it, calculating, plotting.

he will. you can feel it in your gut. he’ll try something, he’ll take the risk. maybe he doesn’t care if he dies here, not after kie. not with that guilt still carved into the back of his skull. maybe he thinks this would be justice, or redemption, or an escape.

you shake your head once. don’t move.

he sees it. his jaw tightens. his lips purse and his hands stop rising, but his eyes stay on yours, and it’s like he’s saying, she’s not gonna let me walk away. you know that.

you do. but there’s something else. you glance at the water. you try to come up with something, anything. work under pressure, under a minute, you need to analyze everything.

this isn’t just some random lake. this is the lake. the first one that helped you washed the bloodbath off of your body. it’s the one kie was sitting on the edge of with you. the one with the trap. the snare.

it’s still there, probably sunken under the surface, tangled at the bottom. she doesn’t know it’s there. neither does jj unless he remembers kie setting it there too. but you do.

if they shift just right . . .

“you think this is a game?” diamonte yells suddenly, head snapping toward the sky like she’s screaming at the gamemakers. “you think this is entertainment? say something!” she bellows. “show me the red light. show me you’re watching. come on, i know you’re watching!”

jj’s eyes flick down to the water, then back up to you. did he figure it out too?

don’t, you think again.

there’s a crunch behind you. a single bootstep. it must be rafe. you hear him before you see him, but it’s too late. she reacts.

diamonte’s head jerks, body twisting, and she shouts something incoherent as she yanks jj’s head back. the knife jerks forward—

but jj’s faster.

your hand reaches back instinctively, finding rafe’s arm like it’s the only solid thing left to hold onto as it all unravels too quickly. your other arm stretches out in front of you, as if somehow, reaching far enough could stop it.

jj’s elbow slams into diamonte’s stomach, the knife dropping with a soft splash, her scream piercing the air as her body jerks backward.

her leg snaps back like it’s caught in something, and you already know what it is before she even stumbles. kie’s trap is still there. she’s too distracted to notice, too out of it to realize she’s already marked.

and jj doesn’t wait. he’s spinning, grabbing, his hands snapping around her throat. diamonte freezes. and just for a second, uou can see the fear in her eyes. she looks at jj like she sees something final in him. and maybe she does. maybe they both do.

he drives them both under with one brutal movement, his arms locked around her as they vanish into the water. it all blurs after that, with the splashing, bubbles, flailing, but you can’t see who’s winning, who’s still breathing, who’s drowning who. the water’s too clouded and the light is too bright. your eyes even burn from staring too hard.

you step forward, already bracing to run in after them, heart jackhammering against your ribs as you call out, barely louder than a whisper, “jj—” but you don’t get any further.

rafe’s hand closes around your upper arm and hauls you back. you stumble for a second, caught between fight and freeze, and then you look at him.

he doesn’t speak. he just meets your eyes like he knows the concern inside you, like he’s asking you not to give in to it. you can’t, you shouldn’t. these are the games.

you want to believe jj’s okay. you want to believe he knows what he’s doing, that he’s strong enough to win this and come back up. but the longer you stare at the surface, the longer it stays undisturbed, no gasp for breath, no victorious shout. he’s doing this on purpose.

rafe gives your arm a pull. and somehow, your body starts to follow. you run.

the trees blur past in streaks, your backpack bouncing heavily against your shoulders, and rafe’s footfalls thudding just in front of you. your breath comes fast and uneven, not from the sprint but from the weight in your chest that keeps pressing down.

and then it happens.

one cannon. one of them is dead.

it echoes through the entire arena. your feet falter mid-step. not enough to fall, but enough to make rafe glance at you.

you flinch, visibly, and something inside you folds in half. the tears prick your eyes instantly, but you don’t let them fall. you swipe them away with the back of your hand, jaw clenching as you force your legs to keep moving. another cannon just a minute later.

you don’t speak, and neither does rafe, because what would you even say?

you just keep running, back toward the field, toward the cornucopia. jj’s gone, so is diamonte. it’s just you, rafe, and the last tribute. only three left.

two more people and the victor gets to go home.

but even after all of this, for the first time you start wondering, do you even want it to be you?

a/n: i keep forgetting that as a district two kid y/n is supposed to be a little brainwashed so oops ! idk how to properly show that thru the behavior but ermm

sry smtimes idgaf because im so excited to get to the 75th games timeskip. this is a huge moment bc jj dies but i wrote it so poorly in my opinion (like i couldve done better) but atp its like a filler chapter in my head LMAO

ALSO idk if anyone noticed that itty bitty detail but since jj comes from four itll be canon that he can swim, even hold his breath for longer than someone in another district. his death cannon comes later than diamontes which shows he was purposely drowning himself for a whole minute after he killed her, putting himself thru that struggle n killing himself omg ok im done

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