#and started mocking up an outline for it

[dionte-goethe]

Inktober 2023 day 7: drip. Almost forgot to upload this one, whoops! Anyway, that section with Suguru being haunted by the cultists' applause sure was good, huh?

[soraphic]

plug!connie who go to war for his lady + some smut at the end💁🏽‍♀️

𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐫 (𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐞 𝐥��𝐞 & 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐟) — 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭.

before you had time to process the movement around you connie had him pressed against the wall,one hand pressed flat beside his head as he levelled with him,ears steaming and a nasty mug. (the other guy,who had been previously feeling you up on the dance floor at some dingy house party you had been dragged to by sasha) tried to speak,but connie quickly cut him off by guiding a hand between them to press against a hard outline in his sweat pocket. "you feel that?" he closed his fist,forcing the other guys fingers to wrap around the heavy barrel of the object,watching his eyes widen and his breath shallow. "yea,you know what that is. back the fuck up,cabrón."

(the other guy) was rendered speechless,mouth open and closing dryly with a humiliating look on his face. "I—,,I—"

"I—..I—.." you winced as your boyfriend mocked the poor guy with a faux frown on his face,an inked hand coming up to grasp the boy's face. "what? you gon' try tell me it was an accident?"

by this point people were staring,and you suddenly felt embarrassment course through you. you gently tugged on your boyfriend's sleeve,stalling hopefully enough time for you to be able to convince him to leave before he took the situation too far.

"con,let's go,just leave it,i'm tired." you tried,but his eyes didn't leave the asshole in front of him,arm tensing as he tried to shrug you off.

"nah,'ion think he learned his lesson yet."

you sighed heavily,giving a slight roll of your eyes toward ony and eren,who were quietly watching everything unfold. ony had a hard look on his face,arms crossed tightly against his chest and unmoving as he watched connie with narrowed eyes. eren,on the other hand,had his hands hanging loosely in his pockets and a taunting grin on his face,clearly enjoying the entertainment for the night,and slightly proud of connie for giving the dick what he deserves for touching you. you motioned your head toward connie,silently asking them to do something. but neither of them budged,eren letting an airy chuckle pass his lips with a shake of his head.

"connie,let's just fucking go,he's not worth it."

"i already fuckin' told you,ma,i ain't movin'!" he snapped,irritated with your constant interference. he was doing this for you,so why were you so insistent on helping this mamahuevo?

"go wait in the car,princesa." he nodded over his shoulder at you,but his gaze still locked in front of him.

you obliged with another dramatic roll of your eyes,barging past a crowd of people to the door. you were too exhausted to fight him on it,deciding to just let him handle it and blow off whatever steam he needed so that he could come back your sweet,doting boyfriend after.

the car shook slightly as he threw himself into the drivers seat,inspecting the blood staining his knuckles to pinpoint whether it was his or the other guy's.

you sat there with a sour expression on your face,glaring out the window and refusing to look at him as he leaned over the back seat to grab a cloth and clean himself off.

"what?" he snapped,"what's with the face?"

you didn't answer him.

"aight,it's like that,then." he grumbled before starting the car.

the drive home had been silent,both of you exhausted and ready to crash.

you were now laying atop the black sheets of his lavish bed,fingers running along the edge of his large t-shirt he had thrown at you,muttering something about - 'since i know you gon' complain' - before hopping in the shower.

part of you wished you hadn't even gone back to his place,feeling sick with guilt. you don't know exactly what he did to the guy,you didnt want to ask,but you knew whatever it was connie must have fucked him up good.

when you heard the sounds of the shower shutting off,you told yourself you were going to act mad,readying yourself by rolling over with your back to the door.

you heard the thuds of his feet grow closer before you sensed his presence stop at the door,grunting when he noticed you were still giving him silent treatment.

a heavy hand came down to smack against your ass,making you jump and shoot him a nasty glare over your shoulder.

"move over,fat butt."

you didn't budge,until you felt the sting of another slap making you roll to get away from the assault.

he slipped into bed,pulling the covers right out from under you to then throw over your figure while he wrapped a tatted arm around your waist to pull you across nearly half the bed to snuggle into his chest. you huffed,defiantly wiggling your hips in an attempt to show him how pissed off you were,you didn't want to cuddle tonight. but he simply squeezed you in warning,grumbling and burying his nose in your neck - "stop fuckin' movin'."

you refused,struggling to slide out of his tight grip on you. you were met with another slap to your ass,cheek stinging with the force of it,much harder than the other ones. he soothed the burn slightly with a rub,gripping your mushy cheek between his fingers and kissing at your shoulder. "i told yo ass stop fuckin' movin'. don't play wit' me."

you debated telling him to fuck off,but the feeling of him pressed against you,putting you in your place was too arousing to try crawl away once more. so you stayed put this time,instead rubbing your hips backward to appease him as he gripped up your hip,placing wet,open-mouthed kisses down your spine.

"your dick hard,perv." you deadpanned,making him chuckle into your skin,smoothing his lips over the intricate lettering tattooed into your back.

"you the one backing yo' shit up."

"you pulled me."

another laugh,"yea,guess i did."

he travelled back up to press his lips against the tip of your ear,running his tongue along the ridge before pressing another,much softer,kiss to the fat of your cheek. "so you gon' come sit on it? help papi out?"

"in your dreams!" you scoffed,knowing damn well you'd be creaming all up on it later.

"ahh— con! 's too much!"

"you a big girl,you can take it." the smack of his swollen balls against your ass had you reeling,practically choking on your own spit as you clawed at his beautiful decorated chest,swirls of red and black clouding your vision while his broad figure leaned right over you. you were being folded in half,knees pressed right up to your chest,blocking your feeble attempts at pushing him away.

the boom of the speaker on his dresser and the pungent smell of weed had you feeling faint,the tip of his dick abusing your sore cervix.:(

"stop fuckin' whinin',actin' like a lil girl." he demanded with a slap to your puffy clit,making you cry out.

he switched positions,dropping your legs and letting the burn of your sore muscles subside for a moment,leaning down to rest his forearms against either side of your head,feeding you his dick in much more fluid strokes rather than a violent pounding.

"mm— 'm not.." you brought two hands to grip at the flesh of his ass,feeling the muscles contract within your palms with each push into you. his brows furrowed,bringing an arm up to grip against the headboard,foreign curses falling from his parted lips.

you laughed lightly,eyes heavy-lidded and a goofy grin spread across your face. "i can tell when you gonna cum,connie.. stop actin' all tuff.. "

soraphic 2k23 — please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms: i do not tolerate them at all.

[noiryinn]

game over!

pairing(s): nagi seishiro x male reader

summary: when a game of fortnite leads to sex

warnings: amab!reader, top!reader, bottom!nagi, anal sex, crying, begging, riding, belly bulge, edging, overstimulation, reader is kinda mean, slut shaming, (minors + fem aligned dni, all characters aged up)

word count: 1.1k

a/n: first smut, enjoy! (kinda rushed and bad)

you were watching your boyfriend play his video games, as always. it annoyed you a bit, but you saw how happy he was playing them so you never said anything.

“hey, nagi?” you called out to him while laying on his bed. “yeah?” he replied, not even glancing away from his monitor. you really didn’t know what to say, you just called his name to he would pay some attention to you. your sex life has been kinda dry, so you just said the first thing that came to mind.

“if you win that game i’ll give you a blowjob,” you blurted out before quickly regretting it. you couldn’t take it back though, since he turned his head to look at you, “yeah?” nagi seemed to be challenging you. “and if i lose?” he asked. well, you didn’t think this far ahead so you just blurted something out again, “you have to ride me.”

honestly, it didn’t seem like a fair deal, but he took it anyway. “fine, deal.” you blinked in surprise, you never expected him to actually take it, knowing how much he hates doing the work himself. nagi was a pillow princess, there was no doubt. every time he laid there and looked pretty. a part of you really want this, maybe as pay back for the numerous amount of times he always payed attention to games and not you.

…

spoiler alert, he didn’t win the game.

…

“f-fuck! [name]!” the white haired boy whined in a pathetically high pitched voice. his eyes glossed over in pleasure as tears pricked the corner of his eyes. “please— ah…no- no more…” he begged. his moves were sloppy and uncoordinated, drool dribbled down his chin. his face was puffy and it was clear as day that he was wildly embarrassed.

“oh, seishiro…you’re getting sloppy, don’t tell me this is your limit? poor baby, is it nap time already?” you mocked him lightly. you couldn’t help laugh how he became such a overstimulated mess in just a few minutes. a small frown played on his face, “i’m not— agh…done yet!” nagi managed to slip out. “good. then prove it.” you condescendingly smirked at him, now it was your turn to sit and enjoy the show.

you fully took in the sight of your boyfriend. his ears and face flushed a mad red. he looked like he was nearing his limit, but didn’t want to admit it yet. the room echoed with the sounds of skin slapping and moans. you loved the sound of squelching when he sank onto your dick. there was even a outline of where it was on his stomach.

with a huff, he messily picked up his pace, drooling all over himself as he made pitiful attempts to keep up the pace. “is that all you can do?” you sneered, “shut up! i can— ngh…do more!” he made a weak jab to insult you back, but really he could barely think at all.

nagi was so perfect. the way he handled your dick, moaned, his facial expressions, you loved it. his pride made him refuse to admit that he was at his breaking point. you wanted to toy with him a bit, so you put your hands on either side of his hips and pushed him down onto your dick. his toes curled and his back arched in the most erotic way possible as he let out a lewd moan.

nagi’s head threw back and he tried to cover his mouth to stifle his moan when your dick hit his prostate in just the right area. you could feel his cute little hole clench around you. he was swearing up a storm under his breath, breathless ‘fucks’ and ‘shit’ rolled out his mouth as he kept babbling.

“i wanna…come ughh— please” he whined and begged as warm tears of pleasure rolling down his cheeks. “awh, already? but i was just starting to have some fun…�� you pouted, “but hold it in, will ya?” you asked him. “i can’t, mnghh…[name] you’re being mean!” he said weakly. “you can’t what? use your words…” you looked at him in his eyes.

he stared at you back with that same frown on his face, it looked like he was choking back words. you waited for him to speak, wondering what he had to say. “i can’t…ride you anymore— ah!” you slammed him down on your dick again, “you’re too big…nghh…” nagi kept rambling on, “you’re— so mean…just fuck me already…please…?” he gave you a pleading look and you sighed. “looks like poor baby can’t ride me anymore. don’t worry, i’ll take it from here” you teased him one last time before switching the position you two were in.

nagi laid on the bed, his face having a fucked out expression, both of his legs wrapped around your waist. you barely gave him a moment to recollect his thoughts when you sharply thrusted into him, knocking the wind out of nagi’s lungs. you pounded deeply into his hole. the sound of his moans sounding almost pornographic.

nagi could barely think, let alone form words. all he could do was just lay there and moan. “you are such a whore for dick, seishiro.” you smirked, he made a desperate attempt to shake his head no, but he was too fucked out to actually do anything. “what a little slut, bet you lost that game on purpose huh?” you whispered in his ear. his only response was a little whimper.

you were surprised when nagi tightened his legs around you, rutting against you for any sort of friction, for you to go deeper. you smiled at this and leaned in to kiss him deeply. he lazily wrapped his arms around your neck. when you two let go to breathe, he whispered something softly in your ear, “mm…[name] i love you…so please, don’t go easy on me, okay…?” in that moment, what kept you from holding back (barely anything), just shattered in that moment.

…

“[name]~ my back hurts” nagi grumbled. you chuckled softly at that, “you were the one who wanted me to go hard, seishiro. don’t make a fuss.” he just responded with a petulant look. you two were on the bed looking at each other, sweaty and breathless. even when nagi was a mess he was beautiful. “you were being mean too…” he complained. “sorry, i couldn’t help it when you were being such a brat…” you remarked.

“ugh…that was such a hassle…i don’t know why we did it…” nagi mumbled while sinking into the bed. “you agreed to the bet!” you groaned, rolling your eyes at his complaint. for an athlete, he was sure unmotivated. “can you wash me? i feel gross…” he asked with puppy-dog eyes. it wasn’t unusual for him to ask you to do things like that. “okay, okay. i’ll carry you.” you sighed, unable to resist his adorable look. though it was a bit of work, you didn't mind doing it for nagi.

[gojo-mochi]

Asking JJK Men if you could watch them jerk off (Part 1; w/Toji, Gojo, and Geto)

CW: Dom!Toji and Soft!DomGeto, Gojo is sort of a Sub if you look closely. Usage of spit and praising, degrading words. Daddy kink for Toji as well. Part 2 will be with Choso, Sukuna, and Nanami. Comment to be tagged in Part 2 or comment who you wanna see in part 3! 

Part 2 Here!

Word Count: 3.2k

Toji: 

He will probably make you beg for it. If you wanna watch him so badly, you should show how badly you want it. He’ll sit manspread on the couch, his beefy thighs on either end. Pulling up the waistband of his gray sweats and letting it snap back into place. The outline of his hard cock can be seen every time he snaps it back. A wicked grin placed on his face as he watched you pout and whine that he was taking too long. He made you kneel on the floor in front of him, but slapped away your hand when you tried to take matters into your own hands and pull down his sweats yourself. 

“Tch. So fucking needy, can’t wait a goddamn minute, can you?” He sneered, scrunching up his nose at you. Still, his cock twitches with a heavy need; he would rather have your hands on him or, better yet, use that pretty throat of yours to fuck. But since you begged him so politely, he could let you have this one, just this once though. Finally pulling down his sweats, he never wears boxers at home so his cock springs up heavily, thick and red. The veins throbbing deliciously, making your mouth water at the sight. Some trickle of precum already tainting the unruly bush that Toji doesn’t bother to take care of.

 Toji’s hand easily engulfed and wraps around his own length, the scarred hand slowly running up and down on it. Toji lets out a soft hiss, moving his hand a bit faster before stopping abruptly. You blinked in confusion, you were enjoying the sight and started whining again asking why he stopped. He shushes you by putting a finger on your lips, from the same hand that he was jerking off with, so you could smell his musk when he did that. You were about to bite at his hand when he held his palm open in front of you. Uttering one command. 

“Spit.” 

You obeyed without a word, spitting right on Toji’s palm as he watched you with an intense gaze. He brought his other hand down to squeeze and pinch at your cheek with a mocking coo.

 “Good girl~” He said it sarcastically, but he knew that those words affected you either way, by the way you were rubbing your thighs together. Your hands inching down your skirt, trying to get some relief of your own. 

“You better keep your hands to yourself, if you want me to continue, doll.” You glared at him, crossing your arms and huffing out. “Well, get on with it then, Toji.” He raises an eyebrow at you, his hand back on his cock but not moving this time. “What was that, doll?” Silence, you didn’t dare make a sound, knowing that you made the wrong move by calling him by his name. “Eyes on me, doll.” Your eyes barely got to look at the ground for a mere second before Toji made you snap them back up. Cowering back a bit, you muttered an apology. “Sorry, Daddy….” 

Toj stares at you for what seems like an eternity, making you sweat and shrink in yourself even more. He snorts at your display; “Keep those eyes on me, you were the one who wanted this, so watch.” You straighten up your back, your eyes glued onto Toji’s form. He takes it slow again, gently coating his cock with your spit, grunting as all the talk before made it a little bit cold. His hand leisurely went up his length, his thumb playing with his slit for a bit, then coming down. Repeating this process a couple times as you watch on in awe, memorizing and soaking in every little reaction Toji made. From the low grunts and hisses he made to the way his cock twitched slightly every time he passed a certain vein. 

Your spit wasn’t enough to completely cover everything, so he started using some of the precum that gushed out to help. You wring your hands together, watching Toji flutter his eyelashes and emit a deep groan, your pussy fluttering as well. “Is this what you wanted, huh? Needy little thing you…so fucking perverted aren’t you? Wanting to watch me jerk off.” He smirks at your mewls of embarrassment. Your hands balled into fists in your lap as you fought off the urge to disobey Toji’s earlier command. 

 “Hahhh-fuck- It be better if I were using that slutty mouth of yours instead, or better yet, I should be fucking that filthy pussy of yours. I bet she’s crying for me, right now, isn’t she?” Another groan gets out as Toji squeezes his tip, grunting heavily as he throws out more degrading words at you. “It's a shame for me to waste my cum like this, you know? After all, I know how much you like it when Daddy fills you up to the brim…” Your nails dig into your thighs as you rub them together, trying to get a little bit of friction you so desperately needed. 

After a few more passes of his hand, fisting his cock lazily, Toji threw his head back and sighed in annoyance; “I’m getting bored of this.” His eyes darken, taking in your appearance. Your chest, heaving up and down slowly, your hands shaking at your side, the sweet  blush that comes across the bridge of your nose. He grins down wolfishly at you, a hunger evident in his aura. He slaps his thigh with his free hand. “C’ere and help me, Doll. This will be your punishment for earlier…”

Satoru:

So, soooooo smug about it when you asked him if you could watch him do it. So annoying about it too, bending over and placing a hand behind his ear as he pretended not to hear you the first time. “Huh? What was that? You wanted to watch me do what?” He got right up in your personal space, you almost regretted asking him but pressed on anyway. “I want to watch you…jerk off in front of me, Satoru.” He grinned like a cat that had found a stash of cream, bending backwards this time so he could look up at you from below.  

Slipping a thumb under his blindfold and pulling it up just a bit to peek one eye up at you. “You wanna watch me? The Gojo Satoru?! Jerk his massive 10-inch cock right in-Mmph!” You clasped your hand over his mouth, looking around frantically to see if anyone was nearby to hear that. “Satoru! We are still in school!” You hissed at him, squealing and reeling your hand in disgust back when Satoru licked it. “Toru! Ugh! You’re such a child!” Satoru bounced back to his standing height, sticking out his tongue at you. 

“You were the one that asked me first, and I thought you liked it when I used my tongue on you.” He wiggled his eyebrow at you from underneath his blindfold, and you retorted back by wiping your stained hand on his shirt. He was about to say something back when Yuji’s boisterous voice called out to the both of you. “Gojo-Sensei! Y/N-Sensei!” He ran ahead of Nobara and Megumi, waving his arms up and down enthusiastically as he barreled toward you. Giving you an almost crushing bear hug, which you gladly returned. “Nice to see you too, Yuji.” 

 You felt Satoru’s immense jealous energy pour out from behind you, patting Yuji on the back and falling back to Satoru’s side. Nobara and Megumi catch up to Yuji, both of them giving you a knowing look as Satoru wraps his arm around your shoulder and begins to drag you away. Stating that you had teacher work to do or whatever. You can hear Yuji’s sad mumbling as he wanted to see if you and Satoru would go see Human Earthworm 3 remake with him. Nobara and Megumi sighed, dragging Yuji away. 

“Come on,We’ll go see that stupid movie with you.”

“I’m leaving halfway through though; there’s a sale happening at Harajuku that me and Maki are going to.” 

“What?! But that when the best part of the movie happens, it's when the scientist is revealed to actually be the-”

Your student's voice fades away as Satoru hurries you back to the school building, pushing you into an empty classroom and closing the door. He brings a chair right in front of the teacher desk, motioning for you to sit on it. Now you really regret asking him to do this, you hesitatingly sit down, watching Satoru’s action carefully. He made a big show for you, dancing around the teacher’s desk for a bit, doing a little spin and bow before propping down on top. 

Leaning back on one hand and crossing his legs, he tilts his head back a bit in a mocking stance. You fold your arms, deciding to play along with Satoru’s game, knowing that if you walk out now, he’s gonna pout about it for weeks on end. He points a finger at you silently, waiting for you to speak. You just shrugged at him, not knowing what he wanted from you, this only made Satoru furrow his brows in even deeper. 

“Do you understand why you’re here, Miss Y/N?”

“No, I don’t, Satoru-”

“Ah-Ah! It’s Gojo-Sensei to you.”

“.....Gojo-Sensei.” 

Satoru stifled a giggle, almost losing his composure. He uncrosses his legs and leans forward, clasping his hands together as he speaks down to you. “Well, I see that you've been slacking lately, perhaps feeling a little unmotivated?” He frowns, even fabricating a worried tone in his voice. You tuck some hair behind your ear, blinking in some tears in your eyes. “Sorry, Gojo-Sensei. It's just been getting hard for me to focus lately..” You wobble your lips cutely, making Satoru giggle for real this time, hiding it behind a cough right after.  

“Hmm.. that is a problem, but I think I know what I can do to help motivate you.” 

He takes off his blindfold first, letting his snowy hair fall down gracefully, framing his face beautifully. His hand comes down to unzip his pants, pulling down just enough for his bulge to show through his briefs. He palms at the bulge for a bit while he looks at you, licking his lips. “Nghhah-I want you to watch your teacher carefully, alright, my precious student?” Satoru’s voice rasps out, biting his bottom lips as he fishes out his cock, you always thought it was truly pretty. 

Not quite thick, but it makes it up in length and topped with a snowy patch that was always neatly trimmed. Your mouth dries up looking at Satoru’s long and slender fingers wrapped around his cock. His hands were pretty too, you thought silently, everything about Satoru just screamed an angelic beauty. He bucks up his hips into his hand, letting out a soft curse. “Fuck-mmphhh…” He keeps an even pace with his hand as he moves it up and down his own length, twisting it at the top and holding it there for a moment while he addresses you. “Come on now, tell your teacher your thoughts-nghh-tell him like that you like what you see..”  

 You shift on the chair, feeling your own arousal start to soak your panties; “I like it a lot, Gojo-Sensei. So good for me, you look so pretty…” Your compliment went straight to his cock; “Ye-yeah, baby? Tell me more, tell me how good I look right now.” He buck up even more in his hand, fisting his cock faster and faster. His glossy, plump lips part to let out lascivious moans and whiny pants. His thighs started to shake a bit as he was nearing his peak. 

“Oh Toru, you’re doing so good, fuck-I wanna eat you up right now. Come on, honey, can you cum for me? Let me see how good you look when you cum.” 

With one last whine, Satoru finishes all over his hand, rope of cum spilling out on his briefs and even staining the floor below. You would need to clean that up later but you didn’t care at the moment, more occupied by the immense need to fit Satoru’s cock down your throat so you could hear those whines again. 

“Thank you for the lesson, Gojo-Sensei. Can I reward you for being such a good teacher now?” 

Suguru: 

You were too nervous to ask him outright, but he noticed you were always staring at his crotch when he sat on the couch. He snaps his fingers, pulling you out of your haze. “Hello? Dear? You alright there?” Suguru’s baritone voice rings out to you, a small smirk tugging on his lips as he watches your eyes flicker from his pants to his face. “Huh? Oh, um yeah, I’m fine.” Suguru hums in return; his dark eyes boring straight into your soul and pussy. He curls a finger in, motioning for you to come stand in front of him. 

Your body moves first before your mind can even think; you're already used to following Suguru’s commands obediently and swiftly. As you stand in front of him, he grabs your hands in his and intertwines your fingers together. “Sweetheart, remember? I told you, you don’t have to be shy around me. Tell me what’s on your mind.” You opened your mouth to reply. Suguru tacked on one more thing before you could. “And if you try to tell me that it was ‘Nothing’, remember also that I have ways of making you talk, love.” He threatened with a light feathery tone, you squirmed a bit, remembering the last time you didn’t listen to Suguru. You couldn’t walk right for a week after.  

It took a few squeezes of your hands for you to voice out your request. “I want to watch you masturbate in front of me, Suguru.” Your confession made your ears burn and you were quick to pull back both physically and verbally. “Only if you’re ok with it, I-” As you tried to pull your hands away and step back, Suguru’s entrapped you in his arms, pulling you onto his lap, his lips directly next to your ear as he chuckled deeply. “Was that all, my love? Such an easy request, no need to feel bad about it.” You let out a little yelp as Suguru bit on your earlobe, licking at the small wound after. 

The sensation was already making you wet, heat pulsing at your core, barely catching Suguru’s next commands for you.”Kneel down in front of me, love.” He spreads his thighs apart, so you have ample room down there. You get down from Suguru’s thigh, kneeling down as he pats your heads, weaving his fingers through your locks. “Good girl~, rest your cheek on my thigh and enjoy the show, alright~?” You squish your cheeks against Suguru’s sturdy thigh, eyes on his delicate hands, as he makes quick work of unzipping his pants and shimmering them down just enough for his boxers to go down too. 

 You rub your thighs together as his cock springs out, half-hard, curving slightly upwards. Your face was so close to it, you could easily see all the veins and small twitches it made. Suguru watches as you bring your own hand down, slipping it under your shorts, as loose moans escape your lips. The puffs of air hitting on his cock deliciously. An idea popped into Suguru's head as he watched on. Two fingers gently tapping your cheek to get your attention, “Dearest, could you do something for me?” 

“Hmm?” Your mind was already falling into that hazy mode whenever Suguru started to order you around, using that soft commanding lithe in his voice that lulled you into a different world. His fingers trace your bottom lips, which you open easily, letting the digit invade your mouth. Your tongue swirling around Suguru’s fingers, coating them in saliva, your own fingers still playing with your pussy under your shorts. “Good~ Now, I want you to get your hand all nice and wet down there for me, alright? Play with yourself, imagine it’s my hand if you have to, dear.” 

 You groan as he pushes his fingers down on your tongue, rolling it over the wet muscle as you keep on plunging your own inside of yourself, diligently following Suguru’s command. Your thighs tremble, a high-pitched whine coming from your throat as your stomach starts to coil. “Stop.” Your hand follows his command instantly, even though your body laments the loss of pleasure. He takes out his fingers from your mouth and motions for you to bring your hand up. 

“Don’t whine too much, dear. Use your hand to coat my cock in your juices; make sure to cover everything~” His obsidian eyes peer down at you as you work, grabbing the base of his cock, smearing your arousal all over it, and slowly going upwards. Feeling Suguru’s length comes to full hardness in your hand. You did a few go around, Suguru stopping you the third time. Once his cock was wet and sticky, he praised you for doing a good job. 

 You folded your hands back on your lap, shifting your head on his thigh to get a good angle as he began to stroke his cock leisurely. Sighing out quietly, letting his hand go and his cock fall downwards a bit, every few strokes. Changing up the speed as he went, sometimes going so fast, the wet noises squelched every time his fist went all the way down to his balls. Or so agonizingly slow that low groans get ripped from his pretty lips. He was torturing himself just a little, since he loves observing your cute reactions to seeing him do so. Suguru enjoyed having your 100% full and undivided attention. 

 Some drool seeped out from the side of your mouth as you watched on, Suguru chuckled quietly at the sight. At you being so pliant and submissive, all for him. He taps you on the cheek to get your attention once more, “Sit up and face me, my dear.” You pulled away from his thigh, the bit of drool staining his pants a bit as you left. You sat back on your knees and faced his cock; “Eyes closed, I don’t want you to get injured-hahh..” He quickened his pace, the pleasure from seeing you so cutely waiting for his cum to be splattered on you, made it that much easier for Suguru to reach his peak.  He angles his cock right towards you as he releases, rope of cum spilling on your face hotly, you loll out your tongue as Suguru slaps his cock twice on it, letting the tip rub on your tongue for a little as the last spurts of cum gets out. A hefty moan leaves Suguru’s mouth as he does this, hasty and earnest praises fall as well. “Good…good girl~ You did so well for me, does my cum taste good, hmm? Hahh-fuck Mm we should do this more often. But now, it’s your turn, dear. Get up on the couch and let me have a taste of you…”

[javiscigarette]

Sweet Spot

Summary: You get a promotion at work, so Joel dresses you up and takes you out for dinner but you're hungry for somethin else

Warnings: no use of y/n, smut with the tiniest sliver of plot, established relationship, fingering, fingering in public, rough sex, oral (m receiving), spitting, a bit of choking, daddy kink ofc, degradation,

w/c: 9k (omfg) of pwp :)

a/n: I don't loveee this one but I've been sitting on it for three months and I can't get the image of freshly showered Joel out of my mind so. Here we are. Also the daddy kink as taken over, I cant stop and I'm NOT sorry!! Pls let me know what you guys think, your comments and love are the only things keeping me going. (also also, if you're someone who likes making edits for pics PLS message me I am desperate and really bad at making them)

my masterlist

Joel is in the driveway leaning over the hood of his truck when you pull up to the house, fiddling with whatever new project he decided to start this afternoon. You’re able to catch a quick glimpse of his shirt riding up a bit, exposing an inch or two of the skin of his back before he hears your car and turns around. 

You pull into the driveway next to his truck and hop out as soon as you’re in park. The warm sound of Joel’s laughter fills the air as you squeal excitedly, running around the front of your car and into his outstretched arms. He pulls you close into him, his black t-shirt hot from the sun has he squeezes you tightly. He smells like motor oil and sweat and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t get you going just a little bit. 

“M’guessing it went well?” Joel asks when he pulls back, chuckling as he watches you bounce up and down on your toes. 

You’d been working on this presentation for your job for two weeks now, spending hours smoothing out every minor detail, giving mock presentations to Joel and staying up late worrying about how it’ll go. 

“Everyone loved it, Joel!” you nearly shout. 

“And guess what?” you ask, not giving him any time to respond. “I got promoted!” you squeal. 

Joel’s chest is about to burst with pride. 

“M’so proud of you, angel. You worked so hard for it.” Joel tells you, his voice soft and sincere as he holds you against him. 

“We need to get in the shower,” Joel says, turning away from you to lower the hood of his truck. “I’m taking you out.” 

—-----------

You sit on the edge of the bed with your towel wrapped around your waist, waiting patiently for Joel to return from the closet. It's no surprise when he returns with a bundle of black fabric – in his hands is his favorite thing you own: the lacey black 3 piece set and the thigh high stockings to match. 

He has a wide smile, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looks at you. With a soft smile in return, you drop your towel allowing it to pool on the bed around you as you expose yourself completely for him. 

“You’re so pretty, baby” 

Your ears perk up at the slight strain in his voice. You look down and grin, the outline of his half-hard cock clear as day under his black boxer briefs. 

“We’re never gonna make it to the restaurant” you laugh and move to stand up for him, despite wishing he would just give in right now and fuck you until you couldn’t see straight. 

But he just shakes his head with a chuckle as he takes your place, sitting on the edge of the bed with you standing between his knees.

“Yes we will, angel. And we’ll play when we get back, give you whatever you want…if you’re good” Joel promises, easily reading your mind. 

You huff dramatically as he picks out the garter belt from the pile and holds it up to you. He doesn’t say anything, just braces himself when you reach out and grip his shoulder for balance as you lift up one leg.   

He bends over, holding the belt open so that you can step with one foot and then the other. He then straightens back up, pulling the fabric up your legs as he does so. Heat pools in your tummy when you look down at him and see his brows knitted together in serious concentration as he dresses you. 

He does this all the time. The routine is committed to muscle memory at this point. 

It’s not that he cares about what you wear, he couldn’t give two shits as long as you’re comfortable. But the power in deciding what you’re going to wear underneath, or if you’re going to wear anything at all, gives him a rush. And he’s positively obsessed with being the one to dress you up in it, says it’s like “wrapping his own present that he gets to rip open later”. 

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin under his warm fingers. You feel so beautiful in these moments, with Joel so focused on your body inches away from his face, his eyes wide and his cock hard just at the mere sight of your exposed skin and the excitement of seeing you in whatever he picks out for you. 

He settles the belt around your waist, making sure all the edges are untucked and lying flat before reaching for the thong and repeating the process. 

“So fucking, pretty” Joel mumbles as he smooths the lace over your hips, adjusting the elastic so it stretches perfectly over your skin. Then he’s spinning you around so until you’re facing the other away, your ass on full display for him. He can’t help but press a kiss to your cheek before straightening out the back of your thong, his mouth watering at the sight of the thin strip of fabric disappearing in between your cheeks. 

Mindlessly, he reaches around to your front and slips his hand between your thighs. The tips of his fingers just barely brush over the lace of your thong but he can feel the heat of your swollen pussy underneath. 

 He sighs and wraps his other arm around your waist and pulls you back into him until his cheek is squished against your lower back, his scruff scratching lightly against your sensitive skin. His fingers keep dancing over you with minimal pressure behind his touch. 

“Joel,” you whimper quietly, already getting all worked up from his minimal teasing. He just shushes you and presses another warm kiss to the back of your hip. After a couple more seconds of light brushes he slips his middle finger into the side of your thong to find your entrance and immediately sinks it inside of you. 

You yelp in surprise, and reflexively try to take a step away from him, but he’s got you tight in his grip. 

“Just wanna feel you, baby” Joel mumbles against your skin, his beard tickling you and making the muscles in your lower back twitch. He closes his eyes, fully focused on feeling your wet walls flutter gently around his finger. His brow furrows and his mouth drops open slightly when he hears your quiet whimper, the sweet sound going straight to his already painfully hard cock. 

He doesn’t even mean to tease you most of the time. Sure, he loves seeing you get all worked up just from a few gentle touches and he adores watching you fall apart underneath him, collapsing into a begging mess for him before he’s even really done anything. But most of the time it’s a genuine need to touch you. It’s like he needs to have physical contact with your body at all times, serving as a reminder that you’re real, you’re here and you’re all his. 

He slides his finger out a few seconds later, much to your disappointment. But before you can complain, he spins you back around and stares you in the eyes as brings his finger up in front of you and gently pushes it between your parted lips. You allow him without any hesitation, and he watches you in awe as you lick and suck his finger clean of your arousal, his jaw slack and eyes dark and wide.

“Ain’t it sweet, angel?” Joel asks, breathless with amusement and lust. 

You nod and he grins before slowly sliding his finger out of your mouth. 

“S’a good girl, baby” Joel comments as he reaches for one of the thigh high stockings. His praise wraps around your heart and melts into your veins, just his simple words making you feel warm and floaty. 

You watch him as he bunches up the stocking at the foot, holding it open for you to step in before pulling it up your leg. He smooths out the lace edge and makes sure that it’s even all around your thigh before he fastens the clips of the garter belt to the top of the stocking. He does the same thing with your other leg before turning you around again and fastening the clips in the back. 

Joel turns you around so you’re facing him again and then presses a kiss to the top of each thigh. 

“Fuckin’ perfect” he sighs as he leans back and admires his work. 

You blush under his gaze, his eyes burning holes in your skin as he stares hungrily. He stands up after a few moments and reaches for the matching bralette, helping you slip it over your shoulders before fastening the clasps in the back. 

He looks down at you and tries to resist the urge to touch you again but he can’t keep himself away. And the small moan you let out when he brings both his thumbs up to brush over your nipples through the lace has him nearly giving in right then and there. 

You look up at him with pleading eyes, silently telling him that you’re not going to be good for much longer if he keeps this up. He stares back at you and thinks about pushing you, letting you act like a bad girl before fucking some sense into you. But he decides he wants to show you off first. 

“Go get dressed, baby” Joel instructs gently with a smile. “Pick something nice for me.” 

— 

You decide on a black dress, one that clings to all the right places while just barely concealing the tops of your stockings and the clips holding them in place. You finish getting ready in the bathroom, and when you walk back out to the bedroom, you nearly collapse at the sight in front of you.

Joel is standing in front of the floor-length mirror with his back turned to you. He’s wearing a simple outfit: black trousers with a black button down to match. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone and your mouth waters at the exposed skin of his thick neck and broad chest. 

It’s almost unfair how good he looks with his hair pushed back just slightly, the damp locks just starting to curl into their usual pattern as they air dry. Your heart races at the thought of tangling your fingers into the ones laying at the nape of his neck. His eyes meet yours in the mirror and he smirks as he finishes rolling up his sleeves until they rest perfectly at his elbows.

He then reaches for his rings – the ones you got for him as part of his birthday present earlier this year, the small gold bands that you insisted would look good on him – and picks them up from where they’re sitting on the dresser. And clearly you were right because when he turns to face you, you almost moan out loud watching him slide a ring down one pinky and then the other. He crosses the room towards you, your knees trembling as he shamelessly rakes his eyes up and down your figure. 

“Stunning” Joel whispers, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. His hands easily find your hips and he gently turns you around so you’re facing the mirror, your back pressed into his warm, broad chest. 

“I love you, angel. And I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, you know that right?” Joel asks as he wraps both arms around your waist and hooks his chin over your shoulder. 

“Yes, Joel, I know. I love you too” you giggle, easily flustered at his praise. 

“M’serious, baby. So proud of how hard you work, how dedicated you are” Joel starts, moving to nuzzle his face against your neck. “How smart you are” Joel continues, his lips brushing delicately over your sensitive skin. You melt so easily underneath him, relaxing into the soft glide of his warm palms up and down your sides as he whispers sweet words of praise into your neck. 

“And I bet you looked fuckin’ sexy doing it too” Joel growls,  his hands tightening on your hip. You let out a mixture between a sniffle and laugh and then feel Joel’s lips curve into a smile against your neck. He presses a kiss behind your ear and straightens back up and turns you around to face him. 

Joel’s heart turns to liquid when you look up at him through watery lashes with a wide smile. He smiles down at you and brings a hand up to wipe away your tears with the pad of his thumb before placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. 

“Now let’s get goin’. I think my good girl deserves to be spoiled.” 

— 

Joel was back to teasing you as soon got in his truck and continued to do so the whole ride to the restaurant. He kept one hand on the wheel, using the other to slide up and down your thigh, occasionally fiddling with your garter straps or just brushing the lace edge of your thong with his fingertips.

And now you’re seated at a table in a dark corner of the dimly lit restaurant, and you can barely think straight. Joel had spoiled you with the most expensive champagne, far more appetizers than two people could possibly eat and a main course of delectable pasta on a plate bigger than your head. And of course, he looked devilishly handsome the whole night, and he knows it too, smirking and looking at you like he’s about to pounce across the table and devour you. Now you sat there with a full belly, but you were still hungry for revenge. 

“What’d your coworkers say? When they saw you got promoted” Joel asks as he pours you both another glass of champagne. You furrow your brows at his question, so far away from even thinking of that whole situation at work and so turned on that you almost completely forgot about the reason why you’re even here right now. 

You look up at his face, forcing yourself to peel your eyes away from the muscles bulging underneath his shirt as he sets the bottle back down. He has that knowing look in his eyes when you find them, his signature smirk thinly veiled with a sweet smile. 

Without even trying to answer his question, you slide down slightly in your chair. He watches curiously as you shift in your seat for a few seconds. Just as he opens his mouth to ask you what you’re doing, your warm foot presses against the crotch of his pants. 

He freezes in place. His hand visibly tightens around the stem of his champagne glass, and you can see the muscles in his jaw twitching. You fully expect him to push your foot back to the ground, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just leans back in his chair and spreads his knees giving you more room to work. He tilts his head and stares at you, a smirk creeping up on his lips when he sees the devious twinkle in your eye. 

You look back with a smirk to match and experimentally wiggle your toes against him. Your heart pounds in your chest when he narrows his eyes at you and slowly moves his hand beneath the tablecloth. You stop wiggling your toes when he wraps his hand around your ankle, the heat radiating from his palm to your skin like a hot iron through the thin material of your stocking. 

“Think about it, angel” he warns quietly. There’s a brief pause, where you pretend to weigh the risks and rewards, trying to decide whether to be good or bad. But your mind was made up before you even left the house. 

After a few seconds, you smirk back at him and press the ball of your stockinged foot against him. Joel chuckles and leans back in his chair again, watching you amusedly. He doesn't move, barely even flinches when you press a little harder against him and it’s infuriating. It's completely unfair how he’s able to literally bring you to your knees with a single touch but remains completely composed when you touch him. 

But what you don’t see is his heart hammering in his chest or the sweat starting to prickle the back of his neck. Truthfully, he had been just as turned on as you this whole time. Actually, he could feel the heat stirring the second that you told him about your promotion. 

He was barely able to hold back when he was picking out your lingerie for the night. He had to take a break in the closet, leaning against the dresser as he took a couple of deep breaths to try and calm himself down.

And when he started dressing you, he could’ve come right there in his boxers at the sight of the garter belt sliding up your waist.  Then the ride over here, the smell of your perfume mixing perfectly with his cologne in the cab of his truck, his head going fuzzy at the scent that seeped into the fabric of his seats, a reminder of you that’ll stick around for a few days. 

And now with your foot covered in the delicate mesh of the stockings that he dressed you in pressing deliciously against his aching cock, he’s rapidly losing his self-control. 

But Joel is just as stubborn as you, not willing to give in so easily. 

So, he bites his tongue and suppresses any noise and tenses his muscles trying not to flinch. Because seeing you get frustrated like this was just turning him on even more. He’s about to say something but you see the waiter coming up behind him and immediately move your foot back to the floor and sit up straight. 

Joel exhales heavily, releasing all the tension he was holding. He doesn’t even hear what the waiter says, too busy admiring the flustered look on your face and the slight shake in your voice as you talk to the waiter. 

The waiter leaves after a few moments and you face Joel again with a mix between a pout and a glare. 

“What was the plan there?”  Joel asks, cocking his head to the side in mock curiosity while he secretly prays that his voice doesn’t crack. 

You don’t respond, just keep glaring at him as you shove your foot back into the shoe. 

“You were being so good, what happened?” Joel presses, each word drenched with sarcastic concern. He watches delightedly as you huff and cross your arms over your chest. 

“S’okay, baby” Joel says, his voice dropping half an octave. Your stomach flutters with excitement.

 This is exactly how Joel starts off every proposition and you can’t wait to see what he wants you to do next. 

Joel pauses and looks at you with an evil glint in his eye. You should’ve seen this coming from miles away. But it still slaps you in the face when he says it. 

“I want you to slip a hand under that pretty dress and touch yourself. Right here, right now.” Joel says so quietly that you barely hear him. 

Your breath gets caught around the lump in your throat and Joel just smiles at you. 

“Go on, baby. Since you’re so needy and set on bein’ bad” Joel encourages after a few seconds of you not moving. “Or we can get the paddle out when we get home?”

The threat of paddle was more than enough.

You glance around to see if anyone can see you like this. No one was sitting near you though, the booth you’re in provides a decent amount of privacy and all direct lines of sight to you are clear. With a gulp and shift down in your seat again and your pussy throbs, pathetically turned on as you slide your hand under the tablecloth and up your dress. You move slowly to slide two fingers into the side of your thong, just like Joel did an hour earlier. 

It’s no shock how wet you are, the lace of your thong absolutely soaked, your whole cunt swollen and slick with it. Your eyes flit up to Joel’s and he gives you a small, encouraging nod.  

“You’re soaked for me, aren’t you angel?” Joel asks. His voice is so calm and steady that you almost stop and get up to walk over to his side of the table and strangle him. You’re so turned on you can barely breathe, and you’re pissed at him for it. It’s maddening how he has you so needy and desperate for him that you’re willing to touch yourself in publicwhile he just watches.

You give into your temptations easily, working quickly to soothe the aching need that spreads across every single inch of your skin. You glance around again, making sure no one is looking before you ease your middle finger into your dripping entrance, your eyelashes fluttering a bit as you curl your fingers and press up against your g-spot. 

Joel’s head is swimming as he watches you finger yourself right there in front of him in this restaurant. Any moment someone will pinch him and tell him to wake the fuck up because there’s no way in hell that this actually happening.

His head is foggy, turned on just as much as you are. His cock strains in his pants, tingles rushing down his spine as he stares at you, biting your lip, your eyes barely open and your eyebrows drawing together as you try to hold back soft moans. 

He wants more.

“Faster.” 

You snap your eyes open and look at him as if to ask if you heard him correctly. The look he gives you tells you that you absolutely did. 

Well, you’re not gonna say no to that. 

Your teeth sink deeper into your lip as you heed his orders and start pumping your finger faster. You’re painfully aware of any sounds you make, whether it’s a moan clawing its way up your throat or the slick sounds of your finger gliding through your folds, you try your best to keep it down. 

Joel of course isn’t any help. 

“Don’t be too loud, baby.” Joel whispers before taking a large swig of champagne. “Wouldn’t want ya to embarrass yourself” 

You shoot daggers at him over the dinner table, but you don’t slow down. And now he’s stumped because does he punish you for being bad, playing footsies under the table with him and fingering yourself in public or should he praise you for being a good girl and listening to him. 

“Baby,” Joel starts, his voice tight in his throat. “Show me, I want to see.” 

To his surprise, you obey easily enough and slide your finger out from under your dress. You bring your hand out from under the tablecloth to present to Joel. His adam’s apple bob in his throat, swallowing thickly at the sight of your middle finger absolutely coated in your wetness, some of it glistening on your palm as well.  He nearly loses it when you spread your fingers apart, thin strings of your arousal stretching between your digits. 

“Fuck” Joel hisses. There’s a tingle of delight in your stomach as you watch him shift in his chair, finally starting to visibly crack. 

He doesn’t say anything else, just reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket to grab his wallet. He hastily pulls out more than enough cash and nearly slams it on the table before standing up. 

“C’mon” Joel commands firmly, extending his hand out to you. You blink at him, not moving a muscle otherwise. You don’t know why, something innate inside you when you’re around him, but even when you're inches away from an orgasm you still find room to be bratty. 

“And what if I wanted dessert?” 

Joel’s jaw clenches as he grinds his teeth together, the tendons in his neck pressing against his skin and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the smirk forming on your face

“Angel,” Joel huffs. “Get up right now and I’ll give you anything you want.” 

That’s all it takes. Joel shakes his head when you immediately grab his hand and pull yourself to stand up. 

“Such a fuckin’ brat” Joel mumbles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side. He practically drags you out of the restaurant, his grip tight on your waist and your heels clicking on the asphalt as you trot next to him to keep up with his long strides as he speeds back to the truck. 

Ever the gentleman, he opens the passenger door for you, keeping his eyes glued to your body as you climb inside. With you safely inside, he slams the door shut, the sound of your heavy breathing fills the otherwise silent cab of the truck as you watch him walk over to the driver’s side. 

You wait a few moments to see if he’ll say anything, but he just stares straight ahead, the muscles in his jaw flexing subtly like he’s chewing over what he’s going to say next as he shoves the key into the ignition. 

He backs out of the parking spot and leaves the parking lot without saying a single word. Meanwhile, you’re a mess sitting next to him, 

You manage to keep your mouth shut for one whole minute. 

“I was just following your instructions” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest with an exaggerated pout. His jaw shifts to the side but he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even look at you. 

You sigh dramatically and glance sideways at him to see if he’s looking. But he keeps staring straight ahead. There’s a small part of you that realizes that this is probably all part of his grand plan to drive you up the wall, work you up until you can’t take it anymore. But there’s a much larger part of you that desperately wants his attention. 

“And isn’t this my treat anyway? Shouldn’t I be getting what I want?” you press, dipping into dangerous territory just to try and get a reaction out of him. 

Still nothing. 

The thought of slipping your hand under your dress again crosses your mind, but his earlier threat of the paddle quickly extinguishes it. 

All you can do is sit there with a pout etched into your face and ride the rest of the home in silence. 

You’re about to explode when he pulls into the driveway. He slides out of his seat and strides over to your side and opens the door. The fire in his eyes burns fiercely as you take your sweet time climbing out. He slams the door shut behind you as soon as you’re out and turns on his heel and quickly makes his way to the door. You groan and actually stamp your foot in frustration. It’s just not fair. 

You stomp towards the door, arms still crossed over your chest. 

“You said you’d give me anything I want” you call after him, recalling his words from earlier as you make your way inside. 

You barely make it through the door before he’s pushing you against it, using his whole body to keep you pinned in place. Your breath catches in your throat and your knees weaken instantly, all of your resolve immediately crumbling around your feet. 

He has one hand on your waist while he braces himself with the other one on the wall next to your head. His face is inches from yours and you can smell the sweet champagne on his breath and the cologne on his skin. His eyes flit from yours to your lips, his pupils blown so wide that there’s just a sliver of brown around them 

“I said if you were good” he hisses, his voice dangerously low. “What you pulled back there? That was bad, baby. Real bad.”

“You’re the one who told me to finger my-” 

Joel’s hand flies from your waist to your throat, his broad palm pressing against your windpipe while he squeezes either side of your neck with his thumb and fingers. Heat surges down your spine and settles in your lower abdomen, your aching sex throbbing pathetically in response. 

“Don’t you try to fuckin’ spin this on me, sweetheart” Joel snarls. 

Maybe he meant to strike fear in you, maybe try to teach you a lesson. But it’s exactly what you want. Joel knows it too – you can tell by the slight smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips in response to your small, breathless gasp. 

“Was just trying to be nice to you” he starts, his voice so low at the point you doubt you’d be able to hear him from any further away. “Try to take you out to a nice restaurant to celebrate and that’s how you repay me? Playin’ with me like that under the table and then actin’ like a spoiled brat all the way home?” 

You both know he’s playing up his part. These were all minor infractions at best. Both of you knew that. You had been in this position for much, much worse behavior. But Joel isn’t dumb, and he’s well aware of what you want - to be tossed around a little, roughened up and broken down until you’re a squirming mess.  And who is he to deny you of that?

You chew on your lip before muttering a small “M’sorry daddy” 

Joel’s eyes narrow even more, the hand on your throat tightening slightly as your carefully chosen words have the exact intended effects on him.

“No, you ain’t” Joel growls. “But you will be. Get on your fuckin’ knees.”

He drops the hand from your throat and takes a step back. You exhale the breath you were holding, and you stare at him as his hands fall to his belt. Just the thought of having him in your mouth has you nearly drooling. 

But you’re not done yet.

“No” you say plainly, crossing your arms over your chest once again. 

Joel’s hands freeze on his belt, his eyes burning holes into you as you stare right back, not moving an inch from where you’re standing. 

He raises one eyebrow slightly as if to say I hope I didn’t hear what I just heard but you remain silent and motionless. After a few long moments of complete silence, Joel chuckles softly, his hands falling to his sides in defeat. He gives you one more look and then shakes his head before turning around and heading towards the bedroom.

You’re about to call after him, ask him where he’s going, but his earlier threat of the paddle floats through your mind once again. That has you panicking nearly instantly. 

You watch in disbelief as he disappears up the stairs. Your legs feel as though they’re stuck in wet concrete, and it takes a few seconds to coordinate your mind and body to get you to move. You scamper after him, a cold sweat tingling on the back of your neck as you head towards the bedroom. 

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed when you walk in, in the middle of untying his shoes. You stand in front of him, arms behind your back and patiently wait for him to toe his shoes off. 

He kicks them to the side then looks up at you with a heavy sigh, like your behavior is causing him physical pain. You offer him a meek smile as he rests his palms behind him on the mattress and leans back, his eyes raking over your body as he does so. 

He doesn’t say anything, which you take as an invitation. 

You move to climb into his lap. He doesn’t reprimand you, but he doesn’t move to hold you either. 

You sit on your knees, your legs straddling his. You can feel him through his pants and your soaked panties, still hard as diamonds. That’s a good sign at least. 

“M’sorry, daddy” you say again, much more sincerely this time. You bring your hands up to fiddle with the collar of his shirt, avoiding his eyes as you wait for a response that never comes. 

“Just wanted to play” you confess quietly. Joel still doesn't say anything, but his eyes follow your hands as you start toying with the buttons of his shirt. 

“And you just looked so handsome tonight” you continue, undoing the first button. You wait again. Still no response. 

“Thank you for taking me out” you say as you undo the next button. 

“And for dressing me up” 

Another button. 

“Making me feel so beautiful” 

And another. 

You undo the last button then push away both sides so that his whole torso is on display for you. You stare for a second, fixated on the steady rise and fall of his broad chest, the soft curve of his tummy, and the trail of hair disappearing under the waistband of his pants.

He remains silent still as you place your hands on his abdomen and slowly slide them up to his shoulders before crossing your arms behind his neck. Finally, you drag your eyes up and look at him through your lashes. His gaze is soft and much warmer than you were expecting. 

“Promise I’ll be good.” you say, barely above a whisper. 

He gives you a half smile and brings a hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing across your bottom lip. 

“You want daddy to make you feel good? Want me to fuck you til you fuckin’ stupid” Joel asks, tilting his head to the side acting like he doesn’t know the answer. 

You nod vigorously and poke your tongue out to lick at the tip of his thumb, just for good measure. 

“Thought so” Joel says as he pushes his thumb past your lips. You suck on it eagerly and let him press down on your tongue, your clit twitching with desperate need. 

“Then why don’t you show daddy how sorry you are, and I might reconsider gettin’ the paddle out.” 

You immediately pull off his thumb and sink to your knees without any further instruction. You reach for his belt, deft fingers unbuckling the belt that you’ve undone so many times before, his button and zipper following soon after. 

He stops you there and moves to stand up. You sit back on your knees with your hands on your thighs and watch as he quickly shucks off his shirt, tossing it somewhere behind him. You chew on your lip as he pulls down the waistband of his pants and boxers, his cock bobbing heavily as he steps out of them. 

Your completely transfixed by it, the veins running along the length, the redden head and the drops of precum leaking from the slit. You don’t even realize you’re staring until he slides a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. 

“Turn around” he instructs simply. 

You have no reason to disobey at this point, so you do as you’re told, turning in the small space between Joel’s leg and the edge of the bed. He takes another step forward, backing you up into the side of the mattress. 

“S’this what you wanted, baby?” he coos as he wraps a hand around himself. 

“Yes, daddy. Always want it” you respond. You look up at him through your lashes, batting them for added effect. 

“Yeah, I know you do” he rasps, taking another small step forward. He rests the head of his cock on your bottom lip, smearing precum. You dart your tongue out to lick it up. 

He drags the tip of his cock from your lips to your cheek, smearing more precum on your skin and giving you a few light smacks for good measure. 

It’s degrading, and should be humiliating, but it just makes your head spin, the fire in your stomach rapidly growing as you open your mouth for him, giving him silent permission to use you however he pleases. 

He groans softly as he pushes past your lips, sinking into the wet heat of your mouth. He’s only halfway in when you gag around him, tears already pricking at your waterline. 

“Oh, you know you can take it deeper than that, angel” 

He places both hands on the back of your head, gently forcing you down the rest of his length. You let him, focusing on breathing through your nose as rolls his hips forward until he’s buried in your throat. You gag again once he’s all the way in, but he keeps your head in place, holding you there for a few more seconds, groaning as your throat convulses around him 

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. Got that throat fuckin’ trained” 

He pulls out, allows you to take a gulp of air before he’s shoving back in again. His hips quickly settle into a steady rhythm, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every thrust. You brace yourself with one hand on his thigh and you can feel the muscles working under your palm. 

“Spoiled little brat just needed daddy to fuck her throat, huh?” 

You hum around him in response, reveling in the feeling of his cock twitching against your tongue. He continues to fuck your face, completely unconcerned with the tears rolling down your cheeks and the spit leaking out of the corners of your mouth. He moves one hand from your head to your throat, his palm splaying across your windpipe. He tightens his grip just slightly, pushing against the bulge of his head buried deep in your throat. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, thrusting in all the way and staying there. “Love feelin’ myself in that tight little throat” 

The fire in your tummy burns with blinding heat at his praise. A dull ache starts to settle in your jaw as salvia slides down your chin and neck, more hot tears spilling over your lash line as you squeeze your eyes shut and try your best not to gag. 

“Take it so well” Joel pants as he starts to rock his hips again. “Fuckin’ made to take my cock.” 

The lack of air already has you feeling dizzy, and his words are only adding to the feeling. He’s not wrong –with him fucking your face like this, a strong hand on your head and the other wrapped firmly around your throat, it feels like your sole purpose in life is to please him, to be a toy he can use to make himself feel good. And you fucking love it. 

After one more strong thrust, he pulls out of your mouth completely. His cock is dripping with your saliva, a string of it connecting his head to your swollen lips. 

“Look at you” Joel coos. You look up at him through wet lashes. 

“Bein’ so good for me.” 

He moves his hand on your throat to your cheek, cupping your jaw as he wipes some of the tears away with his thumb. He then rubs it over your wet, glossy lips, and you already know what he wants next.

“Open” he commands gently, his thumb tugging down on your bottom lip. 

You obey immediately, your jaw hanging open and a smile pulls at the corner of your lips. You watch hungrily as he gathers the salvia in his mouth before he bends down slightly. He lets it drip into your awaiting mouth and you hum happily as the liquid hits your tongue. 

“Good fuckin’ girl” he rasps before spitting again, this time with more force. A small moan finds its way out of you as you keep your mouth open and let the warm liquid pool on your tongue until he gives you further directions. 

“Swallow it.” 

You do so happily, and he hums in approval before standing up straight again. He grabs his cock and guides it to your lips again. He allows you to take one deep breath before he’s pushing in again, his fingers now digging into your jaw, his other hand back on your head as he guides your movements. 

“Such a slut for it, aren’t ya?”

You nod the best you can with his cock filling your mouth. He holds you steady, giving a few well-measured thrusts down your throat before pulling out again, leaving you coughing mess below him. He looks at you lovingly as you gasp and try to catch your breath, your lips cherry red, matching the color of the rims of your eyes.

“Doin’ okay?” he asks, voice soft and gentle. 

You nod again and give him a dazed smile before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Good girl. Now stand up.” 

Joel reaches out to hold your arm as you pull yourself to stand on weak legs, your knees tight and sore from kneeling on the floor. But you couldn’t care less.

He uses both hands to hike up the hem of your dress, making quick work of lifting it up and over your head. He quickly discards it to a forgotten corner of the room before planting a wide, calloused palm square on your chest and pushing you down onto the mattress.

You land on flat on your back against plush mattress, your legs dangling off the edge. Joel reaches for a pillow, and you lift your head so he can slide it underneath. Your skin buzzes as you watch him take his place, standing at the edge of the bed between your legs. 

“So fucking pretty” Joel mutters as he smooths a hand down your front from the hollow of your throat to the tops of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He plucks at one of the black satin garter straps, letting it snap against your skin. It barely stings and you giggle and wiggle your hips in pure excitement. 

Your hungry eyes rake down his body before settling on his cock again, shiny from your spit as it bobs heavily between his legs. 

He starts working on undoing the clasps of the straps without preamble, letting you know that he’s not in the mood to take things slow, which you appreciate greatly. 

He has all four straps undone in a matter of seconds and tugs at the belt. You lift your hips, helping him to slide it down your hips and legs. The speed and carelessness he exerts as he pulls the fabric off your body is a stark contrast from how concentrated he was while dressing you in it just a few hours ago. 

With the belt out the way, he cups your pussy in his hand. The heel of his hand presses against your swollen clit through the delicate fabric of your thong, his fingers pressing firmly against the damp spot that’s been there since before you left the house. 

You whine, a high-pitched sound from the back of your throat. Joels eyes flick up from between your legs to your face, a wicked smirk curling on his lips. 

“Such a needy little pussy” he says darkly, pressing his hand further against your core. You roll your hips up and grind against his hand, chasing after the friction you’ve been craving all evening. 

But he immediately removes his hand and gives you firm smack instead. You yelp at the sensation, your clit tingling and pulsing. 

“Wanna hear you beg for it.” 

He drags his fingertips along on the edges of your panties, his touch featherlight and torturously slow. There’s a small part of you that wants to say no, that wants to argue with him, push him further, just to see what would happen. 

But you’re 10 levels above desperate for his touch. 

“Please daddy, w-want it so bad” 

Joel clicks his tongue and lands another light slap to your clothed pussy. You bite back another yelp and will your hips to stay still. 

“You know you can do better than that. Try again, tell daddy exactly what you want” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, well beyond frustrated at this point. You suck in a deep, steadying breath and exhale is slowly before opening your eyes again to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, and his jaw is tight as he looks back at you. 

“Want you to fuck me, want you so deep inside me that I can barely breathe, want you to be rough with me, make sure I can feel it for days, please daddy please. I promise I’ll be good, just – please I ne-” 

You cut yourself off when Joel digs his fingers into the lace of your thong, the sound of tearing fabric hitting your ears as he rips it off of you. 

“Joel!” you shout, sitting up on your elbows to look at him. 

He doesn't say anything, just grabs your hips and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. But you’re still stuck on the fact that he just casually ripped off your panties like that. 

“Thought those were your favorite pair” you mumble, looking at the discarded fabric sitting on the bed. 

“Shut up” Joel grunts as he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, steadying himself and lining up at your dripping entrance. “I’ll buy you more.” 

You’re about to say something back, but he slides in before as soon as you open your mouth, effectively taking your breath away. 

The stretch of his thick cock inside you as he sinks in all the way in one smooth motion is enough to wipe your brain clean. 

He stays still once he’s inside, his tip kissing your cervix. He curses under his breath as your walls spasm around him, already milking him for all that he’s worth.

“Always so fuckin’ tight for me. Perfect little pussy.”  

You let him maneuver you into position, one of his hands cupping the back of your knee, lifting your leg up to rest on his shoulder, both of you sighing as the angle pushes him just a bit deeper. He brings your other leg up but keeps it pinned to the bed with a strong hand on your thigh, leaving you spread open just for him. 

Without warning, he draws his hips back, sliding nearly all the way out before slamming back in. 

You cry out, your hands scrambling for purchase on the duvet. You’ve taken him countless times before. But he’s big. And no matter how wet or turned on you are, without opening you up first on his fingers, your walls are aching and tingling as he forces your body to mold to his. 

And it’s exactly what you asked for. 

He grinds his pelvis against your clit, his cock bumping into a spot that’s impossibly deep inside of you. You jolt at the sensation and reflexively try to scoot up the bed, your already overwhelmed body trying to get away from the intense feeling. 

“Oh, don’t run from it now” Joel growls, grabbing one of your hips and forcing you back down on his cock. “Begged for it all night, so I’m gonna fuckin’ give it to ya” 

“S-so much daddy, you’re so– oh fuck. You’re so fucking big” You whimper pathetically, your hands gripping the duvet so tight that your nails are digging into your palms even through the barrier of the fabric. 

“I know it’s a lot, angel. But you can take it,” Joel pants. “Can’t you?” 

You nod lazily against the pillow as he pulls out again.

“What’s your safeword” he asks, the head of his cock resting just a few inches inside of you, providing you with enough relief to answer. 

“Red” you whine. 

“Good girl. Do you wanna use it?” 

You immediately shake your head

“No.” 

“That’s my girl” Joel growls before slamming back in again, knocking the air straight out of your lungs. Your back arches with the feeling as he quickly builds up his pace. 

He fucks into you like it’s his last day on earth, fast and rough, just like you begged for. Just like he knows you need. Your whole body feels electrified while moans tumble freely past your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head. 

With your eyes closed, you don’t see it, but you do feel Joel’s lips pressing against your ankle that’s resting on his shoulder, lips warm and wet through the sheer fabric of the stocking that he never took off. 

“Little pussy is takin’ me so well, angel” Joel mumbles against your ankle “Feel so good wrapped around me, squeezing me like that” 

He starts a trail of kisses from your ankle to your knee, his hips not faltering in pace, not even once. The last of the stinging ache melts away as your walls stretch to fully accommodate him. He has an iron grip on your ankle, and his fingers on his other hand dig into the meat of your thigh, creating small purple marks under the smooth skin. The hot coil in your stomach is starting to tighten as you moan incessantly. And of course, Joel notices. 

“Get those tits out, angel.” 

You whimper underneath him and try your best to follow his instructions. Your arms feel like cinder blocks as you unclench your fists from the duvet and move your hands to your chest. You grab the cups of your bralette and tug them down, letting your breast spill out over the tops. 

Joel gives you a few words of praise that you can’t fully process. You already feel delirious, his cock quickly turning you into a useless, needy puddle underneath him. 

“Play with ‘em for me.” 

You do as your told and cup your breasts, one in each hand before gently tweaking your nipples with your thumb and forefinger. Joel gives you more indistinguishable praise as you let your eyes slip closed again, completely surrendering to the pleasure coursing through your veins. 

The hand that Joel has wrapped around your ankle slides down to the back of your thigh, pushing on your leg and forcing your knee into your chest and sending his cock even deeper. 

“Ohhh, daddy shit fuckfuckfuckk” you whine as the head of his cock nudges against the spot that only he has ever found over and over again, the same spot he finds every single time. 

“There ya go” he whispers as you start to squirm underneath him, your jaw slack and your walls fluttering around him.  “You gonna cum, pretty girl? Gonna make a mess on daddy’s cock?” 

You nod vigorously but you already know he wants more than that. 

“Want–” you try to start, but Joel’s hand landing on your clit steals your breath, a loud moan coming out instead. 

“C’mon, baby. Keep goin” Joel urges breathlessly, two of his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Sound so pretty when you beg. Look at me while you do it.” 

You groan and open your eyes again to meet his gaze. His chest is heaving with every breath, muscles flexing deliciously as he fucks you with everything that he has, pounding you further and further into the mattress. 

“Please let me cum daddy, M’so close –ah oh my god please let me cum please please please let me.” 

“You can cum, angel. Keep those eyes on me and show me how pretty you look when you cum on this cock” 

It’s only a few more seconds of him pummeling into you and his fingers drawing expert circles on your clit to send you over the edge.

You lock eyes with him and let out a long, loud moan as your orgasm starts to rip through you, your whole body trembling with pure, white hot bliss. He fucks you through it, on the heels of his own release as you shake underneath him, your warm, wet walls rhythmically clenching and fluttering so perfectly around him. 

“Gonna make me cum, honey” Joel grits out, his pace getting more and more uneven. 

“Inside” you manage to whine, still riding out the last of your orgasm. 

“Yeah, baby, I know. Gonna fill you up so good” 

One, two, three more thrusts until you feel his cock pulsing as he starts to spill his load deep inside of you with a loud groan from somewhere deep in his chest. He keeps fucking you, pushing his spend deeper and deeper inside of you until he he’s too sensitive to continue. He buries himself in you as deep as he can and stills. 

After a few moments, Joel straightens your legs out on the mattress then pulls out of you, moving off of you and flopping down flat on his back next to you with a heavy sigh.

Labored breaths are the only sound in the room as you both come down. You whole body feels like jell-o, all thoughts moving slowly through your syrupy head. You can’t help but giggle next to him, feeling positively euphoric after getting your brains fucked out of your skull. 

Joel turns his head to look at you. 

“What’re you laughin’ at?” he asks, a smile quickly spreading on his face. He rolls onto his side and props his head up on his hand. He wraps his other arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, despite you being dead weight right now. 

You look up at him, eyes hooded with a lazy smile. You try to think of something to say but all you can manage is another giggle, which makes Joel chuckle too. 

“You’re such a goose” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead. 

“Thought I was a spoiled little brat?” 

Joel rolls his eyes and rests his cheek on his hand again, his smile still glued to his face. 

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

“So, I’m a spoiled little bratty goose?” 

“Mhmm.” 

You grin and scoot closer into him. 

“That sounds like a lot to handle” 

You squeal when he pinches your hip. 

“Tell me about it,” Joel sighs, lying his head down on the mattress and wrapping his body around yours. You smile like an idiot with your face squished against his chest, fully satisfied once again. 

Thank god you got that promotion. 

Thank you for reading I love all sm!!!

[kingofbodyrolls]

Stuck in a Snowstorm (m) | pjm

*Part of 'the winter collection'. Read part two. Part three coming soon!

Summary: You don’t know how you ended up here. Stuck with your mortal enemy, Park Jimin, in you car – in a fucking snowstorm.

Pairing: Jimin x female reader

AU + genres: enemies to lovers, pwp (very little plot – let me be honest, it’s just pure smut). Humor/crack, smut.

Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 - this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.

Word count: 6,1K

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings (general) + triggers: Jimin is just a mean jerk and reader is a brat 😂 Lots of banter, crack and anger towards each other.

Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex, dirty talk, orgasm denial/delay, hair pulling, oral (female and male receiving), breasts and nipple play. Also, use of a tie 👀

Author’s note: This is actually a story that I planned to write all the way back in 2017 – better late than never, right? 😂 I had only made the plot with some outline, so I basically started from scrap. But it had been stuck in my mind since FOREVER and now I just miss Jimin a shit ton, so I made this. I hope you enjoy it! Also, it shouldn’t be taken too seriously, it’s just smut with minimal plot and don’t question the characters bad actions or some minor plot holes 😂 (Also, I did not proofread this, just because).

Also, merry Christmas / happy holidays – this is my gift to you wonderful people out there 💜

AND are you guys looking forward to Jimin’s ‘Closer than This’ tomorrow???? 💜

If you prefer to read on AO3 you can read it here 😀

“I can’t believe this…” in disbelief, you mutter, your voice tinged with uncertainty, while you desperately activate the windshield wiper, yearning for even a fleeting glimpse through the thick curtain of falling snow.

“I can,” Jimin declares from his spot beside you in the passenger seat. His playful critique follows swiftly, delivered with a pout and a firm voice, as he shakes his head in mock disbelief, “You're a terrible driver.”

“Am not!” you retort defiantly, your voice cutting through the air, even as your unwavering gaze remains fixed on the snowy expanse ahead.

A curtain of thick snow descends, veiling everything in an opaque white shroud. The road ahead is swallowed by the relentless onslaught, turning visibility into an elusive challenge.

Your hands clench the wheel with a vice-like grip, the strain evident as your knuckles whiten under the pressure. The tension in your entire body is so palpable that it hurts to fucking drive.

Exhaustion weighs on you heavily, a relentless burden, yet the realization hits that you're only halfway to your friends' Christmas party. Two more hours loom ahead, a daunting stretch of time spent in the company of Park Jimin, your sworn enemy.

The decision to share a car ride is a mystery even to yourself; perhaps it was a fleeting concern for the planet, a noble intention to save fuel by consolidating into one vehicle. Yet, as the journey unfolds, the real reasons behind your choice become an enigma.

Regret courses through you like a bitter undercurrent as you ponder the altruistic intentions behind considering the planet and the environment. The thought of advising Jimin to take his own car nags at you, a missed opportunity for a peaceful solo drive. In a self-cursing moment, you rue your own kindness.

“Let me drive; I’m a better driver than you anyway.” Jimin declares with casual confidence, his tone carrying an air of nonchalance.

“Fuck off, Jimin!” you hiss, frustration dripping from your words like venom.

You squint against the relentless assault of heavy snow, the world outside morphing into an indistinct blur as visibility dwindles.

Your pace is deliberate, a cautious dance with the road, but after several minutes, you relent, succumbing to the inevitable by slowing down even further.

“Fine!” you declare, seizing the steering wheel in a determined clench, bringing the car to an abrupt halt.

You pivot your gaze towards Jimin, the words cutting through the tension, “You fucking drive then.”

Shifting the car into park, you unclip your seatbelt with a determined click, swing the door open, and brave the biting embrace of the freezing snowstorm outside.

In synchronized movements, Jimin mirrors your actions, and together, you step out into the frigid air. The two of you converge outside, a silent agreement palpable in the crunch of snow beneath your feet, as you navigate around the car, preparing to swap seats.

“If you crash my car, I’ll kill you.” you menace, venom seeping through your words as you stride past him, positioning yourself in front of the vehicle.

He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, a smug satisfaction evident in his demeanor, relishing the fact that you've conceded to let him take the wheel.

Jimin confidently eases his plump figure into the driver's seat, and you avert your gaze (definitely not looking!). With a self-assured demeanor, he expertly adjusts the seat to accommodate his frame.

You attempt to thaw your chilled hands under the blast of hot air from the air conditioner, the sour mood hanging heavy around you as you settle into the passenger seat, donning a visible pout.

“Relax, I’m not gonna crash your precious car,” he teases, the playfulness evident in his voice, just before smoothly shifting the car into gear and forging ahead.

In response, a huff escapes your lips, arms instinctively crossing in a silent declaration of your lingering displeasure.

You surrender to a sense of ease as Jimin takes the wheel, his deliberate pace aligning with caution. It's a mutual understanding — in this snow-laden terrain, slow and steady becomes a shared creed for safety.

The once teasing atmosphere now gives way to palpable tension, the air thick with the weight of swirling snow that has intensified. Jimin, too, struggles visibly against the heavier onslaught, the challenge of navigating through the snow turning the car into a place of shared unease.

Your gaze fixates on Jimin, observing as his fingers clench the steering wheel with a tension mirroring your own, and his shoulders stiffen in sync. A chuckle escapes you, unexpectedly audible, as you notice the ironic similarity between his reaction and your earlier demeanor.

“What’s so funny?” Jimin spits, the tension reverberating unmistakably in his voice, each word a note in the symphony of strained emotions.

“Your driving,” you start to chuckle, the amusement laced with a hint of mischief.

“You're not exactly outclassing my skills,” you declare, sinking into the seat with a self-assured smirk, relishing the satisfaction of your own driving prowess.

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?” he seethes, the words charged with anger, his gaze sharply turning towards you, locking onto your eyes.

Despite Jimin's cautious speed, the car subtly veers, casting doubt on whether you're still on the road or lost in the oblivion of the thick snow. The blinding white landscape offers no clarity, leaving you uncertain and immersed in a disorienting wintry haze.

“I can’t see fucking shit!” he exclaims, abruptly bringing the car to a halt and cutting the engine in an instant, plunging you both into an eerie silence amid the obscured surroundings.

Your gaze locks onto him, urgency etched across your face. “What are you doing? We've got Seokjin's Christmas party in less than an hour!” The frustration in your voice reverberates, a ticking clock amplifying the stakes of the impending deadline.

“It’s not safe to drive in this freaking snowstorm!” he bellows in response, frustration escalating in his voice, punctuated by the sharp flick of the hazard warning lights, signaling the urgency and danger of the situation.

“I just want to get there already. I'd rather not be stuck with you,” you seethe, teeth gritted, a visible huff escaping in a cloud of anger. The tension hangs heavy, fueled by the biting words that linger in the now frosty air.

“Like I'd willingly be stuck with your sour attitude,” he retorts, his gaze sweeping you from head to toe for some inscrutable reason. “I don't even like you,” he declares, the words loaded with an unspoken tension that hangs in the frosty air between you two.

You gape at him, the bitter truth resonating in the air—an unspoken agreement that neither of you harbors any liking for the other. The animosity between you has solidified into a hostile dynamic, despite the shared circle of friends that consistently throws you together, much to your enduring displeasure.

Jimin exudes an infuriating level of cockiness, ceaselessly pushing your buttons and expertly tapping into the art of annoyance until it feels like your nerves are unraveling at his mere presence.

You'd willingly brave the biting cold rather than endure the prospect of an unpredictable future confined with him inside the car. Fate seems to revel in mocking you, as the car rapidly succumbs to the encroaching chill, each passing minute intensifying the unwelcome cold that now permeates the confined space.

You clutch your arms tightly around your body, desperately running your hands up and down in a futile attempt to gather some warmth. A curse slips from your lips as you question your own sanity—why in the world did you take off your jacket for the drive? Now it's trapped in the damn trunk, and the thought of braving the freezing cold to retrieve it is utterly unappealing.

“Cold?” he chuckles, the sound carrying an edge of amusement that only amplifies the chill sinking into your bones.

You nod your head.

“Well, I’m not giving you my jacket,” he states matter-of-factly, cocooning himself in the evident warmth of his puffer jacket. Damn Park Jimin and his infuriating nonchalance, he's truly a master of being a jerk!

“Can't even manage a simple act of kindness,” you mutter with disdain, the words escaping in a sharp hiss, a low and almost grumbling tone, accompanied by a dismissive eye roll.

“What's that?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips, relishing the snug warmth of his jacket while you shiver in the cold. 

“Fuck you, Park!” you shout directly in his face, your words laced with frustration. Instead of a retort, he just chuckles, the sound taking on a manic edge that lingers in the frosty air, leaving an unsettling resonance to your heated exchange.

An indeterminate amount of time slips away, lost in the relentless snowfall that shows no sign of relenting. Frustration building, you reach for your phone and decide to text Seokjin, realizing that this damn snow isn't planning on letting up anytime soon.

You [15.42]: Stuck in a snowstorm with fucking Park Jimin. I don’t know when we’ll arrive 🙄

Jin [15.48]: Just stay safe 😂

Fuck Seokjin! You’re convinced that he’s somewhere enjoying a good laugh at your misfortune.

A surge of realization hits you like a bolt of inspiration—there's a blanket tucked away in the backseat. Swiftly moving up, you make your way to the center console.

“What’re you doing?” Jimin questions, his curiosity evident in the quirk of his eyebrow as you navigate over the center console, leaving him bewildered by your sudden, mysterious movements.

“There's a blanket back here,” you announce triumphantly, finally laying hands on the sought-after comfort. With a satisfying plop into the seat, you tug the blanket snugly over your cold body, a gesture that transforms the atmosphere within the car from chilly discomfort to a brief oasis of warmth.

After a few contemplative minutes, Jimin breaks the silence with a question that hangs in the air, “Mind if I join you?”

Your mouth falls agape, and your eyes widen in astonishment at his unexpected question. Collecting yourself, you respond with a hint of sarcasm, “You weren't keen on sharing your jacket with me. What makes you think I'd be willing to share my blanket with you?” The tension between you and Jimin escalates with each word, hanging palpably in the cold air.

Without a pause for your response, he defies the silence, navigating over the center console with the same determined crawl you had exhibited moments before. The unspoken tension between you both amplifies, turning the confined space into an arena of silent rivalry.

Seated beside you, he makes a grab for the blanket cocooning your shivering form. Resolute, you refuse to surrender it, your hands engaging in a tug of war with him.

“Share, you brat,” he hisses with a mix of irritation and amusement, his determination evident in the forceful tug at the blanket. 

“No!” you hiss back defiantly, the word laced with a stubborn refusal as you hold your ground.

With a forceful yank, he wrenches the blanket from your grasp, and in the struggle, he ends up with it draped across his lap. The victorious outcome of the skirmish leaves a charged atmosphere between you and Jimin, the warmth of the blanket now a coveted prize in his possession.

A triumphant smirk plays on his lips as he envelops himself in the captured blanket. His eyes lock onto your moping expression before descending further, a mischievous gleam indicating that his victory goes beyond the simple conquest of the blanket. 

“I can totally see your nipples,” he chuckles. 

You glance down, and sure enough, your nipples stand out against the satin material of your dress. Swiftly, you react, pressing your hands over your breasts in a sudden move to conceal their visibility. 

“Why the fuck are you look at my tits?” you yell at him, your frustration audible, but he merely chuckles in response. 

“You must really be freezing, huh?” he observes, and you simply nod in agreement, a silent acknowledgment of the biting cold that permeates the confined space. 

“I can warm you up,” he suggests with a playful wink, both eyes and eyebrows conspiring in unison. The underlying implication of his words hangs in the air, and you instantly grasp the nature of his playful proposition.

“I'm not that desperate, Park,” you scoff with a hint of disgust, the rejection laced with a prideful undertone. In response, he simply chuckles, finding amusement in your candid dismissal.

Following his suggestive remark, an electric charge seems to surge through the atmosphere in the car. Your mind involuntarily races, envisioning the prospect of warming up next to him, his hands tracing every contour of your body,  his di—

Stop. You admonish yourself sternly, a mental command to cease the vivid thoughts involving him. He's your enemy, you remind yourself, emphasizing the intense dislike you harbor for Park Jimin. The internal conflict heightens, the struggle between attraction and animosity weaving a complex web within your mind.

His chuckle resonates beside you, a sound that grates on your nerves. Irritation mounts, and you sharply turn your head towards him, your annoyance evident in the flicker of your gaze. 

“Need help?” he inquires, his gaze suddenly deepening, the darkness in his eyes unveiling a subtle intensity that lingers in the air. 

“With what?” you spit back at him, the confusion evident in your tone. 

“You're grinding against the seat,” he bluntly points out, his gaze fixed on your crotch. You glance down, discovering your unconscious movement against the fabric of the seat. A sudden realization dawns, and an expletive slips from your lips. 

A wave of discomfort washes over you, an intense desire to squirm and disappear into the ground, engulfed by the embarrassment that now saturates the air. The profound sense of shame hangs heavy, making the moment so excruciatingly humiliating.

You inhale sharply, drawing in a breath that seems to shudder through you, and with a deliberate move, you roll your hips once more.

“No…” you murmur, the word escaping with a shaky uncertainty that even your own ears can detect. 

Jimin scoots closer to you, the warmth radiating from his body sending sparks that seem to dance through yours. 

He leans into you, his mouth dangerously close to your ear, and in a breathy whisper, he offers, “I can help you with that.”

His words alone send a jolt through your body, a sudden tightening that ignites a fiery sensation. Damn it. The internal conflict and desire entwine, creating a tumultuous storm within you in the presence of him. It's undeniable—your entire being yearns for the touch you never thought you'd crave. 

His warm hand finds its way to your thigh, and a low moan escapes your lips at the contact. Fuck. 

His hand ventures down to the hem of your dress, grabbing and pulling it back to expose more of your thighs. A shiver runs down your spine as the cold air embraces your newly exposed skin, and a hiss escapes your lips. However, the sensation is quickly replaced by a different kind of warmth as his hand cups your clothed core. A breathless expletive escapes your lips, leaving your mind in a blissful blank state.

Instantly, you feel the warmth of his hand intimately against you, and your head falls back against the seat involuntarily. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you respond to the touch, unable to resist rolling your hips into the sensation.

“You’re needy,” he breathes against your ear, the words carrying a provocative weight that reverberates through you. 

His warm breath sends a cascade of shivers down your spine, clouding your thoughts in a haze of desire. The desire for release intensifies, eclipsing any reservations you may have about seeking it from your mortal enemy. 

“Shut up and just touch me,” you utter in frustration, the words punctuated by the deliberate grind of your hips into his hand, a desperate quest for any kind of friction. You're acutely aware of the desperation seeping through your actions, but at this moment, you don’t give a fuck.

And touch you he does. His fingers begin to rub your clit over the fabric of your panties, and you don't hold back your moans.

Your hips gyrate, a rhythmic dance in pursuit of your impending orgasm. The sensation builds rapidly, a cascade of pleasure on the brink. The question lingers in your mind—why does your body respond so eagerly to his touch?

He tugs your panties to the side, his touch on your clit eliciting a gasp of pleasure from your lips. The warmth of his fingers against your skin amplifies the sensation, and you're already soaked.

“You're so wet already,” he chuckles against your ear, his lips teasingly grazing your skin. The desire to retaliate surges within you, but then, with a sudden and deliberate movement, one of his fingers enters your pussy, stealing your breath away.

He skillfully fingers you with one finger, the motion of his wrist simultaneously stroking against your clit, creating a sensation that's nothing short of delicious. The desire for more intensifies, an insatiable craving building within you.

“More,” you breathe, your voice escaping chapped and laden with a raw, lustful edge. 

Jimin adds one more digit, and you relish in the precision with which he finds your soft spot, hitting it perfectly.

“Are you gonna come on my fingers?” he whispers in your ear, the suggestive question sending an instant jolt through your body, a yearning for more. 

A throaty moan escapes your lips as you willingly spread your legs wider, granting him more space.

He deftly introduces a third finger into you, and you feel yourself losing control, swept away by the overwhelming pleasure. It's already so good—how is he so skilled with his fingers?

The way he skillfully uses his fingers inside you while simultaneously rubbing your clit with his wrist propels you relentlessly toward the precipice of climax. The knot in your stomach tightens, and you're on the verge of that intoxicating release.

“Jimin, fuck. I'm gonna come soon,” you pant, the urgency in your voice underscored by the rhythmic grind of your pussy against his hand. 

He accelerates the pace of his fingers inside you, bringing you to the brink, but just as your body teeters on the edge of release, he abruptly withdraws his fingers and hand altogether.

His fingers and hand vanish, leaving you hanging on the precipice of your orgasm. The abrupt absence intensifies the frustration and desire you feel surge through your body. Fuck!

Your legs tremble beneath you, and a frustrated hiss escapes your lips as you pant for breath.

“You didn't want to share the blanket,” he spews, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your evident frustration.

You're on the verge of tears, overwhelmed with anger. The desperate desire for release compounds the emotional turmoil within you. The audacity of him! The frustration boils over, cementing Jimin as nothing short of a fucking jerk in your mind.

“I'm not letting you come unless you beg for it,” he adds in a smug voice, a smirk playing on his lips as he purposefully puts some distance between you. 

You can't believe him. The brink of pleasure was within reach—just a few more rubs and you would have unraveled on his fingers. The yearning is palpable, a frustrating ache that intensifies with each passing moment. 

You growl at him, caught in a heated internal debate about whether to plead with him or not. 

Your pussy clenches around emptiness, a visceral reminder of your desperation.

“Please, Jimin. Please let me come,” you implore, locking eyes with him and turning your body toward him. The desperation in your gaze is palpable. Almost inadvertently, you press your chest closer, your stiff nipples drawing his gaze downward.

He licks his lips teasingly, a wicked glint in his eyes, before seizing your hips and drawing you irresistibly toward him. With a swift yet controlled motion, he manipulates your body, guiding you to lie on the seat. As you settle into the unexpected position, he chuckles at the genuine confusion etched across your face.

“Because you asked so nicely,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and in a bold move, he shoves your dress up to your stomach. With swift precision, he snatches your panties, sliding them down your legs. “I'll give you what you want.”

He discards your panties with a deliberate flick, his focus unwavering as he plunges down to your throbbing pussy. There's no hesitation; he immediately delves into licking at your folds and clit with a hunger that matches your own. 

Your body instinctively arches off the length of the seat, a wave of pleasure coursing through you. It feels unbelievably good. In the heat of the moment, your hands find his hair, fingers gripping and pulling at the strands, eliciting a guttural groan from him. 

Your muscles tighten, and the echoes of the previous orgasm, forcefully ripped from you, return with an intensity that feels tenfold. Each breath is a furious pant as he continues to lap at your folds, the relentless pleasure building and intertwining with your gasps. 

Then, with a skillful touch, he adds a finger to your clit, rubbing it in tantalizing circles. Your senses heighten, and just as you succumb to the pleasure, he skillfully continues to ravish your entrance with his tongue. 

“Jimin!” you scream his name, a raw and unrestrained cry escaping your lips as you reach the peak of ecstasy on his tongue. Your body tightens, toes curling, and you involuntarily hitch your heels against his legs. In the throes of pleasure, your vision blurs, and you fight for air.

He chuckles, a throaty sound that reverberates in the aftermath of your high. Not giving you a moment to fully come down, he skillfully inserts two of his fingers inside you, drawing a hiss from your lips at the touch—your body rendered oversensitive.

He extends his fingers, proudly displaying them, glistening with your intimate juices. A wicked glint in his eyes, he issues a command, “Clean them.” 

You meet his gaze defiantly, a spark of challenge in your eyes, before obediently rising to carry out his command. Taking hold of his hand, you sensually draw his slick digits into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them like a provocative dance. Your eyes lock onto his, witnessing the raw desire in his gaze as you release his fingers with an audible ‘pop’.

“I hate you,” you declare, breathless, the words carrying a mixture of frustration and desire. His response is a low chuckle, his perceptive gaze catching the teasing glint in your eyes.

He leans back, a provocative smirk playing on his lips, and starts palming himself through his dress pants. Your eyes involuntarily follow the movement of his hands, and a jolt of desire courses through you as you realize he's already rock hard. The unmistakable bulge strains against his pants, a visual testament to the arousal simmering between you two. 

“I can help you with that,” you purr, a sultry promise lingering in your eyes, eager to reciprocate the pleasure.

He chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and smoothly turns his body to fully face you. With a teasing smirk, he unzips his pants, skillfully pulling down both his trousers and underwear enough to liberate his hardened dick.

His cock springs free, defiantly brushing against the bottom of his loosened tie, a sight that's undeniably tantalizing. Perfectly sculpted, it's veiny and slightly flushed at the tip, mirroring the allure of every inch of him. A surge of conflicting emotions overwhelms you – the hate, the desire, the acknowledgment of his undeniable appeal. You despise how effortlessly good-looking he is, from the tousled blonde locks to those lips you now crave to taste. 

However, your gaze returns to his dick, noting its average size but with a satisfying girth that catches your attention. A subtle hint of anticipation flickers in your eyes, and your tongue instinctively darts out to moisten your lips. 

“Then get to work,” he pants, a breathy command, as he sensually spreads his legs, creating an inviting space for you. 

You descend eagerly, ensuring your mouth is generously coated with saliva before you engulf him, starting with just the tip. 

He hisses the moment your lips meet his dick, his head instinctively colliding with the window behind him, an involuntary exclamation escaping, “Ah, fuck.”

You engulf more of him, your mouth descending entirely, and the sound of his primal moan reverberates in response. You add a sultry hum, a note of satisfaction coursing through you.

You initiate a slow, deliberate pace, skillfully sucking him off, and anything beyond your mouth's capacity, you sensually stroke with your hand. 

His hands seek out your hair, effortlessly capturing the neatly arranged high ponytail that he grasps with a possessive confidence. 

You revel in the subtle tension, accelerating your descent on him with a newfound urgency. Your tongue skillfully traces intricate patterns, dancing across his tip and the sensitive folds of his frenulum.

He moans in ecstasy as you withdraw with a satisfying ‘pop,’ only to treat the head of his throbbing dick like a tempting lollipop, your tongue swirling around it with deliberate sensuality.

As you glance up at him, he appears utterly lost in the moment. His eyes, once vibrant, are now dilated orbs of desire, his parted lips releasing audible breaths. The state of bliss enveloping him transforms his features into a breathtaking display of vulnerability and beauty.

You envelop him once more, relishing the subtle tremor that courses through him, a tangible response to the sensations you're skillfully orchestrating with your lips and tongue.

He yanks you away from him, his voice a raw whisper laden with desire, “I want to fuck you.”

You prop yourself up, captivated by the transformation before you. The usual arrogant Park Jimin is replaced by this vulnerable, needy version, and against your better judgment, a desperate craving for him builds inside you. You ache for him to consume you entirely.

A mischievous smirk plays on your lips as you echo his earlier taunts, “Beg for it,” you challenge, aware of the palpable tension between you, a shared desire pulsating in the charged air.

A low, throaty chuckle escapes him as his fingers glide through the tousled strands of his blonde hair, a mixture of frustration and amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re really a fucking brat,” he hisses, a smirk playing on his lips.

He sits up, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as he sheds his open jacket, the confined warmth of the car now turning uncomfortably sweltering. You can't help but acknowledge the irony; at least you're not freezing anymore, which, after all, was the primary objective of this unexpected detour, wasn't it?

“Please let me fuck you,” his plea hangs in the air, a desperate echo of your own request, and you can't help but chuckle, slowly crawling closer to him.

“Turn around, let me straddle you. Leaning against the headrest will give us more space,” you suggest, and he shifts in an instant, his arousal evident in the casual sway of his dick with each movement.

Then you confidently straddle him, your hand instinctively reaching for his dick, guiding him to align perfectly with your eager entrance.

Before you lower yourself onto him, you sensually trail his dick through your wetness, relishing in the intimate friction. A moan escapes your lips as you then descend onto his lap in one smooth, sultry motion.

The exquisite stretch sends a shiver down your spine, and he effortlessly glides in, eliciting a breathless ‘Fuck!’ from your lips.

As your hands find their place on his shoulders for support, his eyes, now hooded, follow your every movement as you begin to ride him with a rhythm that echoes the passion pulsing between you.

You pant furiously, your breath hot against his face. The sensation of him inside you is nothing short of heavenly, an electrifying connection that feels as if every contour of him aligns perfectly with every curve of your pussy.

“Ah,” ecstasy courses through you with each fervent bounce on his throbbing length, a harmonious rhythm of pleasure escaping your lips in breathless gasps.

“You’re so tight,” his ragged breaths synchronize with the rhythmic clench of your walls, his hands anchoring to your hips, adding an electrifying intensity to each blissful plunge into your velvet warmth.

Between gasps, you manage to growl, “Fuck. I hate you,” only to be met with his deep, throaty chuckle as he continues the relentless rhythm of his thrusts, each one a tumultuous clash of conflicting desires.

Amidst heavy breaths, he accuses, “I know you're lying,” his words punctuated by the rhythmic tempo of his panting. Undeterred, he leans in for a searing kiss, his lips caressing yours with a softness akin to pillows. Your defenses crumble as you melt into his touch, tongues colliding in a fervent dance that defies the lingering tension.

“Why is it that you feel so damn good?” you gasp, interrupting the kiss only to plunge back into its intoxicating depths. Each moment spent in his embrace feels like a surrender to a passionate whirlwind. His every thrust reverberates through you, sending electrifying shivers down your spine, an exquisite dance of pleasure and desire that you find impossible to resist.

“Perhaps I should prolong your climax, just as you did to me?” you purr with a mischievous smirk playing on your lips, resurrecting the playful brat within you.

He chuckles, his hands leaving the curve of your hips to gracefully undo his tie at his neck. Your gaze fixates on him, observing each deliberate move as he frees himself from the constriction of the tie, all while you continue to ride him with an unabashed hunger.

“You really are a fucking brat,” he mutters, the corners of his lips quirking into a sly smile as he pulls off his tie. “Now, shut up,” he commands, silencing any potential retorts by expertly stuffing the tie into your open, protesting mouth.

You yield to the makeshift gag, sinking your teeth into the fabric, muffling the symphony of your own desperate moans.

A smirk plays on his lips as his hands reclaim your hips, commanding, “Now take it like the fucking brat that you are.”

His movements become a relentless rhythm, thrusting deep inside you. All you can do is cling to his shoulders, swept away by the force of his desire.

Ecstasy courses through you, and you can't help but moan into the fabric of his tie. It feels too damn good to contain.

His voice drips with satisfaction as he senses your walls tightening around him, and a smug grin plays on his lips. “You like that, huh?”

A guttural moan escapes your lips in response, the crescendo of pleasure building, and you sense the impending climax drawing near.

“Fuck yourself on my dick,” his command hangs in the air, thick with desire, as his hands abandon your hips, embarking on a journey down your back. With a swift motion, he unzips your dress, letting it cascade down your shoulders.

Your naked breasts dances to the rhythm of his powerful thrusts, an erotic ballet of passion and desire.

“Fuck. You’re not wearing a bra, just like I thought,” his eyes widen in delighted surprise, a devilish grin playing on his lips. His hands eagerly exploring the contours of your exposed tits.

His words hang in the air, sending a shiver down your spine. “Your tits are beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing delicate patterns around your stiffened nipples. Your body reacts instinctively, a primal moan escaping through the tie as desire courses through you.

Every grind and movement becomes a challenge as he expertly tweaks and pulls at your nipples, sending waves of pleasure and distraction through your body. You fight to maintain a rhythm, desperately trying to pleasure yourself on his dick amidst the electrifying sensations dancing across your chest.

As your walls clench around him, a whirlwind of sensations floods your body, signaling that the peak of pleasure is just a breath away. Every nerve is on edge, and the anticipation of an imminent climax tingles through you, a storm about to erupt.

As he skillfully massages your tits, he breathlessly teases, “You’re gonna come, aren’t you?” his words send shivers down your spine, intensifying the pleasure that's building within you.

With a fervent nod, you surrender to the sensations, your muffled moans echoing through the tie as pleasure courses through every inch of your being.

As he plunges into you, he urges you with a guttural command, “Cream my cock, brat.” The raw desire in his voice fuels the intensity of your connection, igniting a blaze of passion.

Overwhelmed by desire, his dick finding every exquisite spot within you, you unleash a guttural moan, your pleasure echoing into the fabric of the tie as you climax on his pulsating cock.

Jimin's fingers twist around your hardened nipples, sending electric shocks of ecstasy through your body. A guttural exclamation escapes your lips, muffled by the tie, as pleasure courses through every fiber of your being.

He pounds into you relentlessly, the rhythm building towards an intense climax. His hands firmly grip your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he desperately seeks his own release.

He reaches the peak of ecstasy, his body shuddering with the force of his release as he spills into the warmth of your pussy.

Heaving for breath, the silence between you two speaks volumes, a shared understanding lingering in the air as you descend from the euphoric heights of your climaxes.

Collapsing onto his chest, you revel in the soothing aftermath, liberated from the restraint of his tie. As his body relaxes within you, the intimacy lingers, a tangible connection forged in the heat of passion.

His lips graze your neck with a gentle touch, igniting a cascade of thoughts about the significance behind this tender gesture.

As laughter fills the air, shattering the lingering tension, your attention shifts to the foggy windows and the oppressive heaviness in the car, making each breath a deliberate act.

As you hastily redress, Jimin slips into his jacket and steps out of the car, retrieving your coat from the trunk. With a gentle handoff, he passes it to you, and you quickly slip into its comforting warmth.

“Thank you,” your gratitude escapes in a hushed whisper, laden with a touch of bewilderment. The encounter, while undeniably electrifying, leaves you grappling with conflicting emotions. It's Park Jimin, your sworn adversary, and the intensity of the shared moment hangs between you, a paradox of pleasure and rivalry.

“You’re welcome,” his response carries a self-assured smirk, echoing the lingering traces of the shared intimacy. As he confidently returns to the driver's seat, you mirror his actions, settling into the passenger's seat, both enveloped in a charged silence that speaks volumes.

The snowfall has eased, no longer as relentless as before. A subtle nostalgia creeps in as you reflect on his desire to keep you warm. The gentle flakes now fall, leaving you yearning for the lingering warmth of his touch.

As he revs the engine to life, a gust of chilly air sweeps through the car, causing you to emit an involuntary grunt. His chuckle fills the cabin, accompanied by a smirk and a teasing wink. “I can warm you up anytime,”

You shoot him a moping gaze, wondering if he has a knack for deciphering your thoughts. Can he sense the magnetic pull, the unspoken attraction that mirrors your own inner turmoil?

You return his smile, a silent agreement resonating between you as he steers the car forward, setting the wheels and unspoken possibilities in motion.

Three hours fashionably late, you finally arrive at Seokjin's Christmas party. The distant hum of music greets you as you step out of the car, signaling that the celebration is already in full swing.

As you rap your knuckles against the door, you steal a glance at Jimin who's busy adjusting his attire. His fingers deftly tighten the knot of his tie, and his pants get a quick, inconspicuous tug into place.

As Seokjin swings the door open, a tantalizing waft of mouthwatering aromas envelops your senses, instantly sparking a smile on your face.

Seokjin's laughter echoes as he playfully accuses, “You fucked Jimin!” and your jaw drops in disbelief to the floor.

[toppersbitch]

sebastian sallowxF!reader with the prompt ❛ keep it. it looks better on you. ❜

Keep It, It's Yours // Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Characters are not aged up here, there is nothing 18+

Summary: Sebastian just loves the way green looks on you!

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: none this is just fluff

Prompt: “Keep it. it looks better on you.”

-----------------------------

You lay on the lawn just near the lake on the Hogwarts grounds, watching the clouds hurry by. Sebastian was dead asleep, his body resting just beside yours. It was a warm day, the last day before summer break began. You would go back home and so would Seb, far away from each other. It was heartbreaking; the two of you had been close since you started in year 5, and now it was the end of year 6. Your teachers despised the two of you, you got in double the trouble. No real feelings had ever been spoken between the two of you, little touches of the hand and knee, words were spoken during late nights and in hidden tunnels. 

“Seb,” you said lightly, pushing your shoulder up against his. He opened his eyes, turning his head to make eye contact, “I think we should jump in the lake,”

“But it is forbidden,” he was mocking one of your teachers, he rolled over onto his side, and you did the same. 

“Who told you that?” no teacher had ever said that and unless it was told to him before year 5, you’d never heard it.

“I don’t know,” he rubbed his eyes with his hand. You smiled, Sebastian always assumed everything at the school was off-limits, that's what it seemed like to him. 

You sat up, untying your boots and setting them to the side, evening was approaching. The sun has almost gone behind the outline of the castle. Seb sat up groggily, following your steps. You had already packed your robes into your trunk, your clothes being strictly casual since then. Why not jump in your clothes? It was shower day anyways. Seb stood up, waiting for you, his hand outstretched. His foot tapped impatiently, mocking you as you placed your hair up. 

Grabbing his hand you hoisted yourself up, holding tight and running towards the lake. You waded in quickly, pulling Seb behind you. The mud squished between your toes, moss, and lake vines snaking up your body.

“I sure hope the squid doesn’t get us,” Seb pinched at your legs, and you squealed, kicking at his hands. You splashed each other, the water feeling refreshing over your sunbaked skin. Laughing at little jokes and such. He lifted you throwing you deeper into the lake, swimming with ease out to you. You held onto each other, the sadness of this week's end events. 

“Seb,” you pulled his eyes from the ducks her was watching, “ I hate summer.”

“Why on earth would you hate summer?’ his eyes carried nothing but confusion.

“I hate not being with you,” you felt your heart grow heavy, “it's so boring.”

“Floo powder is a thing you know,” he had a sarcastic tone, his house fireplace wasn’t connected to the network and neither was yours. 

“Seb you know what I mean,” you rolled your eyes at him. 

“Yeah I know,” you both trailed off, looking around. Night had fallen fast and it had grown surprisingly cold. Your body shivered, teeth chattering involuntarily. However, you stayed, anytime with Sebastian was worth it's total in gold. The bell rang, meaning it was time for dinner, no matter if you two actually made it, Sebastian had an in with the house elves and they’d do just about anything he asked.

“Let’s go back,” you said, your voice quivering from the cold. You swam back, every motion sending chills. The outside air wasn’t much warmer, the air consuming your body. You shivered, tying your shoes and waiting.

“Here take my sweater,” Sebastian offered his knit sweater had been wearing all day. You pulled it over your head, the smell of Seb filling your lungs. 

“Why don’t you wear green more?” Sebastian was staring at you, his robes hanging over his shoulder like a used bath towel. 

You were a Slytherin of course, but you opted for the least amount of green in all your clothing, black fabrics being the majority in your closet. You shrugged, in response beginning the walk back to the castle. 

You both skipped dinner,  opting to take showers and sneak out again later for a snack, possibly in the restricted basement of the library, this was a favorite meeting spot for the two of you. You dressed, pulling over Sebastionas sweater again. It was possibly the coziest thing you’d ever put on, the Slytherin rooms were known for being cold, the walls being all stones. 

“I got us lamb chops and eclairs,” Sebastian sat roughly on the floor, a bag of food falling into your lap. You emptied out the contents, chowing down. The conversation flowed effortlessly, jokes and laughs, even snorts echoed off the cement walls. It was late, even the ghosts were quiet and you no longer had to occasionally hide from them. 

“I don’t wanna go home,” you said, your head resting on Sebastian’s shoulder, his on top of yours. You twirled your wand in your hand, watching little sparks fly with just your thoughts. 

“Either do I, but we have to,” his words were tired and slurred, he was half asleep and you knew it. You stood up, pushing your mess back into the bag, and helping Sebastian stand, you both stood facing each other, tears welling in your eyes. There was no promise you would be able to say goodbye tomorrow. You wiped your eyes on the sleeves, the green fabric soaking the up. 

“Oh here's your sweater,” you pulled it over your head, wadding it up and stuffing it into Sebastian’s hands, he grabbed it tightly, letting his hands graze yours. He pulled you into a tight hug, beginning to sniffle himself. 

The next morning was hard, shoving the rest of your belonging into your trunk, and finding places for the trinkets you collected this year. Moving onto your desk you saw a specific green sweater folded neatly, a note pinned to it. You hurried over grabbing the note eagerly. 

It read: “Keep it. It looks better on you anyways” signed Seb

His sloppy handwriting is barely legible. How on earth did he sneak this in here before leaving? He was such a mysterious being.

You folded the note, slipping it into your journal, holding the sweater to your chest. Seb had already gone home, and this was all you had of him for the summer, other than the letters of course.

-----------------------------

God this is so cute!!!!!! I hope this everyone enjoys <3333

Find my other stuff HERE

[btsvt-bar]

FEVER

pairing ꩜ journalist!mingyu x afab!reader x journalist!wonwoo

synopsis ꩜ a promotion at work, the new political reporter and a few bottles of wine. writing for a prestigious newspaper can be much more exciting than it seems. it all depends on who your co-workers are.

content/genre ꩜ frenemies with benefits, threesome, smut (18+ mdni)

author's note ꩜ not proofread . comments are apreciated! lmk if you wanna be tagged on part 2 ♡

warnings under the cut!

part one | part two

warnings ꩜ smut, threesome, anal sex, oral (m. receiving), masturbation (f. and m. receiving), cum swallowing, double penetration, alcohol consumption, tipsy sex, sex in the workplace, voyeurism, tit sucking, jacuzzi sex, protected sex. lmk if i forgot something important.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

chapter one

The newsroom of the largest newspaper in the city of Chicago and the Great Lakes region was exactly what one could expect: true chaos. Phones ringing all the time, people talking loudly, papers scattered in the corners, journalists typing at full speed to deliver their articles in time… the place was a huge mess, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

You walk quickly among the dozens of tables scattered irregularly across the 6th floor of the building. Being the responsible for the entertainment and arts column, you needed to submit an unfinished article in less than two hours.

The click of your white scarpins were practically inaudible over the cacophony of the room. A little out of breath, you arrive at your table and drop your red bag on the dark wooden tabletop with an audible thump, drawing Kim Mingyu's attention.

The black-haired man looks away from the screen in front of him and starts analyzing your outfit. From the pants tight enough to outline your ass perfectly, the refined silk blouse showing just enough cleavage and the small crucifix that rested near your throat. Mingyu lets out a sigh, he hadn't been with you in bed for three hours and he already wanted to drag you back.

"Did you lose something here on my desk, Kim?" you question in a mocking tone when you notice him staring. Of course you wouldn't miss the opportunity to tease him.

"Not really" he responds by getting up and slowly approaching you. A roguish smile tugs at his mouth. "You, on the other hand, lost a pair of lace panties at my place."

"Mingyu!" you shriek and slap the man's strong chest.

"Relax, darling. No one listened." he informs with a wink. "Would you like a coffee? You look tired, didn't you sleep well?"

The worst part of spending the night with him was his inflated ego the next day.

"You are ridiculous."

In a completely childish act, you throw him a middle finger. Mingyu laughs and leaves to grab a coffee for the two of you.

If one asked any Chicago Tribune employee who y/n y/l/n and Kim Mingyu are, they would, undoubtedly, say "the biggest rivals who have ever worked here".

The two of you had been on the newspaper's journalistic team since the beginning of college. You started together as interns, and since then fought like cat and dog. You weren’t sure, but you thought your enmity started with an argument in the archives room. You just knew that "hating" Kim Mingyu in front of everyone was as natural as breathing.

What most people didn't know was that you don’t replicate Tom & Jerry's behavior when you are alone. Protected from curious eyes, you enjoyed your time in a much more pleasurable way.

Literally.

You hated the term "friends with benefits" to describe what you had with Mingyu. Yes, you were friends outside of work. And yes, you had sex occasionally. But you hated people's need to label things, so you preferred to think of Mingyu as just a friend. The "frenemies" dynamic worked well, both sides were comfortable with it.

And that was enough for now.

"I already added sugar. Two small spoons, right? "Mingyu declares as he approaches to hand over the mug filled with steaming coffee.

"Yes, thank you." you offer a grateful smile and take a small sip of the dark liquid.

You weren’t even surprised that he knew how you had your coffee, you’ve had many breakfasts together.

"Good morning!" Yunjin, your best friend, greets you with a beaming smile. "Have you seen Dino?" the youngest questions as she approaches you. "I need to get a file from his computer."

You look back at your friend's table and notice his backpack on the sideboard, but the man himself was nowhere to be found.

"Lipinski asked him to go to her office about twenty minutes ago." Mingyu responds without looking away from the computer screen. "I have no idea why."

You frown at the information.

"Weird." Yunjin comments when turning on her own computer.

"He’ll be back" you state with a shrug.

"Is he being fired?" Yunjin freaks out.

"He wasn't fired. "Mingyu laughs, amused by the situation.

"And how are you so sure?"

Mingyu points something behind you. You turn your head in sync with Yunjin, and see Dino walking towards the three of you. And he wasn't alone.

The man accompanying Dino wore a black suit, white t-shirt and a dark blue tie with white stripes. He was taller than Dino by a good few inches and, even in a suit, it was noticeable that he took care of his physique and probably went to the gym regularly. However, what left you and Yunjin flustered was his beauty.

"Guys, meet our new political journalist." Dino introduces the man.

"Jeon Wonwoo." says as he extends his hand to Yunjin, who was closer to him.

"Yunjin, fashion and lifestyle." the woman introduces herself by taking his hand.

Wonwoo addresses you with expectation in his eyes. His eyes, you notice, are striking and intense. The kind that seems to be able to read your soul with just one look.

"y/n, entertainment and arts."

Suddenly, you feel like the room is too hot.

Maybe it was because of the man in front of you, who was undeniably handsome and seemed too good to be true. Or maybe it was his baritone voice. You hadn't expected the deep, husky tone that came out of his full, heart-shaped lips.

You bite her lower lip to contain a sigh and shake his hand eagerly.

"Mingyu, sports." His face contorts a little, as if he’d already decided that he didn't like Wonwoo.

"Nice to meet you all" Wonwoo says with a friendly smile and adjusts his glasses over his elegant nose.

"Your table should arrive tomorrow." Dino says, drawing everyone’s attention. "You can use mine for today, I'm going to do some field work and I'll be out all day." the youngest explains as he gathers his belongings and puts them inside his backpack. "Now, I need to take you to HR. Let 's go".

Wonwoo agrees and leaves his backpack on the table. The two head to the elevator hall with Dino explaining more about how the newsroom works.

"I call dibs!" you exclaim as soon as you’re sure Wonwoo can’t hear you.

"Hey, not fair!" Yunjin whimpers.

"You already have Dino"

"And you already have Mingyu."

"Dibs… on what?" Mingyu raises his eyebrow when asking. He wasn't even sure if he even wanted to know what the two of you were talking about.

"To fuck him." Yunjin responds as if it was obvious, gesturing with her hand at the same time. "The new guy is pretty hot, if you ask me."

"Your bad taste scares me."

Mingyu's handsome features contort into a frown. He knew he had no right to be jealous of you, but he couldn't help it. It was difficult, even more so when it directly affected his ego. The thought that he might no longer be the only one to have your attention made him slightly irritated.

"Are you jealous?" you tease as you give the man a knowing look.

"He's dying of jealousy." Yunjin says in disbelief. "I never thought I would see Kim Mingyu like this."

"In your dreams, darlings." he says with a mocking tone and goes back to work. "I need to finish my article".

You exchange a glance with Yunjin and you two let out an amused laugh. You take a sip of your almost cold coffee and risk one last look in Mingyu's direction.

The man was frowning and pouting like a toddler being denied something for the first time.

"Don’t be like that. I promise you’ll always be my favorite." you smile flirtatiously.

Totally out of character, Mingyu offers a shy smile.

"You make it sound so sweet when you lie to me" he snorts and you laugh at the comment, finding the whole situation funny as hell.

Everyone returns to their tasks, but the slight irrational jealousy remains in Mingyu’s thoughts. He lets out an unhappy sigh, feeling extremely stupid.

The brunette takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to refocus on finishing the basketball game schedule he needed to deliver. For now, that’s all he could do.

chapter two

It was Wednesday and the Chicago Tribune newsroom was practically empty. You, Mingyu, Wonwoo and two other journalists were the only ones there.

You feel like you’re being watched and look around, finding Mingyu staring from his desk, his bottom lip casually caught between his teeth. You could practically hear his mind engines turning.

You were very angry at him the night before. Out of jealousy, Mingyu was a total dick to you and to Wonwoo at the company dinner. However, after you shouted at him for around 20 minutes and he fingered you in the backseat of his car, you calmed down a bit. You still pretended to be mad, but you weren’t one to really hold on to grudges.

"I need your help in the archives room. "Mingyu says, shaking you out of your own thoughts.

"Is it difficult for you to find a file on your own?" you tease, tilting your head mockingly.

Mingyu smirks.

"It would be easier if the person who organized it had a decent system, my dear." he teases, remembering why you supposedly hated each other. The man gets up and says: "Let's go, I don't have all day".

You roll your eyes at him, but stand up anyways. He leads the way, and the two of you leave an unaware Wonwoo behind.

Mingyu opens the heavy wooden door and lets you get in first. The lights flickered a few times before stabilizing. Several silver shelves filled with white folders were scattered around the place, as well as some wooden tables and chairs. In the right corner, they had a copy machine and other stationery items that could help journalists' research.

You walk a few inches to the first shelf and only then realize that Mingyu didn't say what he was looking for. "What do you want to find?"

"Archives about the 1958 World Cup."

"Hm... I don't know if we'll have much on the subject" you state as you walk towards the shelves at the end of one of the aisles. "This is the stupidest thing to find around here, why would you even… " you’re cut off when Mingyu turns you around to face him.

He presses you against the low sideboard against the back wall of the room. Your eyes widened, not understanding what was happening. Mingyu runs his large hand across your cheek. He wets his lips, staring at yours eagerly.

"Is it okay if I say ‘shut up and kiss me’?"

You roll your eyes, but grab the man by his tie and pull him in for a kiss. Mingyu lets out a sound of approval, satisfied with your attitude. He lifts you and places you on the sideboard, positioning himself between your legs.

Mingyu raises his hands to your ass and squeezes hard, bringing you even closer. You tangle a hand in his hair, while the other one lightly scratches his nape just the way you knew he liked. Your tongues caress each other with dexterity, having already done this hundreds of times.

The kiss wasn't at a desperate pace with a hint of anger, like it was the last time you hooked up. It seemed like Mingyu wanted to prove a point. He kissed you as if he wanted to mark you as his. And you loved it. The world seemed to disappear when you kissed like that. An earthquake could happen, none of you would notice.

The man separates your lips and starts distributing wet kisses across your jaw and neck. You let your head fall back, giving him more space to explore. Mingyu opens the buttons on the black blouse you wear and notices you weren’t wearing a bra. He lets out a grunt as he raises his strong hands calmly; touching you gently. Too gently. You start to get impatient, knowing you didn't have much time before someone else showed up.

Mingyu wraps his lips around your right nipple, making you let out a soft moan. He gives it a few seconds of attention before moving on to the other and repeating the same process of giving small licks and pulling away with a gentle brush of his teeth. He kisses up from your boobs to your neck, his hands stripping you out of your black skirt in the same rhythm.

"You can stop there." you pull the man by his dark locks when he tries to give you a hickey near your collarbone. You hated being marked in visible places.

"Sorry…" the look he gives you is warm and without the slightest trace of regret. His swollen lips pull back into a sly smile and you roll your eyes out of habit. With no more time to waste, the journalist opens the button on his own pants while you take care of removing your panties.

And that's when you see him. If Mingyu turned his face a little, he would see him too.

Precariously leaning on a file box, two hallways away, was Jeon Wonwoo. His eyes widen when he realizes that you discovered him there. You bite your lower lip and wink at him, making it clear that everything was fine.

Wonwoo lets out a breath, which he hadn't even realized he was holding until then. The man didn't intend to be there. He had gone to the files room after you, at Lipinski's request. He didn't expect to find his coworkers about to have sex.

And he didn't expect to want to stay there to watch.

Suddenly feeling bewildered, Wonwoo backs up until his back rests against the white cabinets that were adjacent to the bookshelf that hid him. He brings his right hand to his forehead and presses the space between his eyebrows with his fingertips.

The room was too hot, the black tie suffocated him, the tailored trousers felt like a prison. A little desperate, he runs his hand through his hair, removing it from his sweaty forehead. Your low moans pull him back to the reality of where he was and what was happening just a feet away from him. He straightens his body, ready to get out of there.

However, he can't leave without taking one last look.

Mingyu hid his face in your neck as he fucked you in a controlled tempo. You hugged him tightly, with your lower lip trapped between your teeth in an attempt to contain your moans.

As if they were magnets, your eyes soon meet Wonwoo's again. You smirk, amused to know he was still there.

With his hands shaking, the man lets out a tortured sigh and walks away, leaving the room as quickly and silently as possible.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

"I need to say something." you declare as you try to adjust the black blouse on your body. It was completely crumpled, but whatever.

"Go ahead” Mingyu turns to look at you.

You open and close your mouth several times, unsure of how to start the sentence. As someone whose job was the use of words, you were definitely failing to communicate.

"I didn't want to talk when we were... " you interrupted the sentence, implying what they were doing. "Wonwoo saw us."

Mingyu stops trying to straighten his messy hair and looks at you suspiciously, as if you had just told him that you knew which numbers would be drawn in the lottery.

"And that’s a problem because…?"

"Why aren't you nervous about this? "you question, finding the man’s reaction weird.

You tilt your head, analyzing the man in front of you. He was strangely calm for someone who had just heard that the new nemesis had seen naked the woman he had been jealous of a few days ago.

"What do you think he's going to do? Go out and tell everyone he saw us here?" he rolls his eyes and tucks the hem of his white blouse into his pants. "As if."

"Of course not, you moron. I thought you would freak out for another reason."

"And what reason could that be?" Mingyu asks, holding your chin with his long fingers, forcing you to look at him.

"Nevermind."

Mingyu shrugs, it was in his best interest to leave that subject aside. You try to adjust your black skirt, unzipping at the back to make the process easier.

"How much did he see?" Mingyu asks himself as he leans against the sideboard, waiting for you.

"I don't know when he arrived, but I saw him before you... oh, you know."

"Before I fucked you?" Mingyu laughs loudly and you slap his chest, suddenly feeling ashamed. "Who knows, maybe he learned a thing or two…"

"You are annoying, Kim Mingyu." you let an amused smile escape your lips.

You turn around in a silent request for help from the man, who zips up your skirt.

"And you love it, my dear" Mingyu kisses your neck as he carefully pulls the zipper up. "Now, move that beautiful ass of yours. We have deadlines." he gives you a playful slap on the butt before heading to the exit.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

read part two!

tags ꩜ i hope you liked it so far!

@asscoups17 @wonvsmile @porridgesblog @gaslysainz @thepoopdokyeomtouched @sunset-sana @coupsgfsstuff @stagefrjghts @wonuwonder

[kasagia]

Game of survival

Pairing: young president! Coriolanus Snow x fem!rebel! reader Summary: The worst enemy is the person who betrayed you when you trusted them with all your heart. The person you told all your secrets to, the person you loved more than your life—the best friend who suddenly turned on you and stabbed you in the back and right through your heart, using your weaknesses they learned with the time they spent with you. You and Coriolanus have been each other's worst enemies since that fateful day at the lake in District 12... Inspired by: Game of survival - Ruelle Warning: 18+; a little smut; Coriolanus chases you around his presidential palace; I had a completely different idea for it, but it turned out that way...; Enjoy!; Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

You hold your breath as you sit on the roof of a building.

Through Sniper Rifle, you watch carefully as the president of Panem gets out of his car. You only see the outline of his bleached blonde hair before he disappears into his presidential palace. The car drives away, and peacekeepers start circulating around the building again. An impregnable fortress. Seemingly.

"I hope you have a plan." Joseph mumbles next to you, moving into position next to you. "We must act quickly tonight. Get in and out before the peacekeepers find out what are we going to do."

"First, you have to shoot him. I won't leave there without seeing the life drain from his eyes." You reply, preparing to leave the roof.

"Do not worry about it. Everyone would like to be in my place. I don't miss the target." He replies confidently, with an arrogance in his voice that you don't like. But you won't lecture him. The other hunter never liked being told how to do his job. You caught animals; he caught real people. He had more experience in this area than you. But could Coriolanus still be considered human?

"That's not what I'm thinking about. It's a game of survival. Him or us. You have to play it smart. Don't underestimate him just because he's from the Capitol, Jospeh."

"I bet he didn't even hold a gun in those well-groomed hands of his." You shudder. The screams of Sejanus and Lucy Gray echo in your head. Coriolanus' screams. The sounds made by mockingjays...

"I doubt it." You answer briefly and go out to the staircase.

You pass through several of its inhabitants before reaching the basement. Before you open one of the rooms, you look around to make sure you are alone in the residential basements. You quickly open and close the door behind you. You move the painting, some kind of marriage portrait of a general and his wife, and go through a hidden passage. It was a tunnel dug under the building, which led to a small room where the most important members of the rebellion slept. The rest were to arrive during the day. For a special evening event.

"You need to be more careful." Meg tells you as you return to base. "The peacekeepers seem to be breeding in their barracks. I saw twice as many of them on the streets as yesterday. And guess what?"

She slaps her hand flat on the table. You walk up and lean down, seeing the wanted poster for you. Alive, not dead. Whoever turned you in would get a ridiculous amount of money.

"I have a nicer jaw shape." You comment and pick up the wanted poster. You throw it in the air and aim the dagger at it, nailing it to the earthy wall of your shelter.

"I don't know what you did to Snow, but even his advisor, who ran his presidential campaign and defected to join us, isn't so... passionately wanted by him and his men as you are." She says, wincing when she can't get the dagger out of the wall. You roll your eyes and walk over to her, pulling out the dagger easily and handing it to her with a mocking smile.

"Old disagreements and a minor difference of opinion." You tell her, walking over to the map of the Capitol and the plan of the presidential palace. "I doubt he even remembers why he's so pissed at me. That was ages ago. 10 years. Maybe more. But as you can see, bastards like him hold grudges for a long time."

"People gossip, you know. That you are not suitable for this job. That you had some feelings for him that would make you hesitate to pull the trigger when necessary." She says, walking towards you. She places her hand on your back, making you look at her. "If you don't want to, don't say it. But I need to be completely sure that you won't betray us."

"I'm not the one who is supposed to kill him. We have Jospeh to do that. But believe me, if necessary, my hand won't shake. I am a hunter. My job is to kill. And an animal like him is well within my hunting range. He... he has done too much for me to feel sorry for him. And believe me, if anyone has a reason to kill him, it's me. I have something to take revenge for. So if you don't trust me, then trust my rage. After all, there is nothing like a mad woman, is there?" You ask, sending her a meaningful smirk.

And even though you pretend to be so confident in front of her and any other rebels, deep down, you know that it's not all that simple. Things between you and Coriolanus... were complicated. And anyone else in your situation would hate him with all their hearts, but you couldn't just stop loving him. Maybe you were actually weak, but if you learned anything from Coroilanus Snow, it was how to pretend to be stronger than others. Even when you were in a shitty situation.

"Good. Prepare yourself. We start at dusk. For the Districts."

"And for all the fallen. Let the odds be forever dead." You finish.

Meg nods and leaves you alone with the maps and plans. Your task was simple. Sneak through the guests at a masquerade party, get into his office, and plant a bomb. Just in case. Only if Joseph hadn't managed to kill him. You were also supposed to set a few other traps for President Snow. And since you were the best hunter in Panem, there was no one better for that job.

You've been preparing for this for months. You have figured out all the escape routes, emergency exits, peackeeper patrols, and their plans to secure the reception at the presidential palace.

Tonight, everything will be resolved, your past will be finally a closed past, whether you want it or not.

Either he or you will die tonight. And if you were sure about something, you were sure that you wouldn't pass away so easily.

You never expected that Coriolanus Snow would become your worst enemy.

Or at least that's what you think as you drive through the Capitol. You sit in the backseat, staring at the streets and people passing by, as your chauffeur and fellow rebel take you to your destination.

Ever since Lucy Gray returned from the Hunger Games, she has been praising her mentor. She said that the boy she met gave her invaluable support and help, and that if it weren't for him, she wouldn't have survived on her own in the arena.

Her stories make you imagine him as an angel. Blond curls, sky blue eyes, helping a poor girl from the district, a man with a good heart—everything fit. And you were confirmed in that belief when you saw him for the first time and realised how handsome he really was.

How were you supposed to know then that Coriolanus Snow was really an angel, but a fallen one? How could you recognise the devil through the disguise he had created for himself?

You were certainly not the first or the last to fall under his spell, to believe in the façade of a good man, to see him as a hurt boy who needed love and tenderness. At least you wanted to believe you weren't the only one naive enough to ignore all the clues and signs that he wasn't such a saint after all.

It started inconspicuously. Like all disasters. And you, having lived in District 12 for so long, knew very well what bad fate, misfortune, and catastrophe were.

But nothing could have prepared you for the coming of Coriolanus Snow.

He was charming. Oh God, and how much he was. Sejanus didn't pay much attention to his surroundings, but Snow picked up on every little detail, no matter how insignificant it may have been at first sight. Lucy Gray fell into Plinth's arms. And you became infatuated with a devil who seemed to be as observant as you.

"Lucy Gray's friends are my friends." The brunette guy says that and takes a step forward. You shift your cautious gaze to him, but he doesn't seem to notice that you're wary and reaches for your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "Sejanus. Nice to meet you."

"Y/N." You say, removing your hand from his grip. "I used to say that too. And then she took me to feed her snakes. The poisonous ones. The worst 3 minutes of my life."

"3 minutes?" He asks curiously. You notice someone moving behind him—another man—who is whispering something to Lucy.

"She ran away screaming." Your friend giggles and throws her arm on Sejanus' shoulder. You roll your eyes at her as she laughs at you, not hiding the smile that begins to form on your lips.

"That's not true. I didn't scream. I saw a rabbit and went hunting." You mutter, feigning offence, which only intensifies her laughter.

"A hunter who is afraid of snakes?"

Someone's question distracts you from Lucy Gray. Behind her, you notice the man who was whispering something to her earlier. He steps out of her shadow and stands a few steps away from you. You look him up and down, and by the way Lucy is comfortable with the other peacekeeper and his appearance, you assume he must be her mentor. Coriolanus Snow. And damn her, he was really hot.

"I am afraid of what I have to be afraid of, private Snow. Just like a hunter should. You never know when the danger will come that you will turn from a predator to a prey." He watches you carefully, listening to your every word. And by the small smile he can't contain, you know that you've managed to make him curious and defend yourself enough for him not to discredit you.

"It's Coryo when we are among friends." He says this, nodding at you. He does not extend his hand to you like Sejanus did, nor does he attempt any other greeting that requires physical contact. Weird. You wonder if he would be attentive enough to sense your discomfort.

"We should get going. The Covey is probably waiting for us. Will you come tomorrow? I think we have a lot to talk about." The brunette asks them with a smile and stands on your other side, taking your arm.

"Su..."

"We will escort you." Coriolanus interrupts his friend, still looking at you. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to you. There are... quite a lot of people hanging around here tonight." His gaze shifts to Lucy Gray for a moment, and he nods for her to lead.

"He may be a rebel, but he is also chivalrous. Come then, gentlemen." She laughs and places her other hand on the crook of Sejanus' elbow. Coriolanus adjusts and walks on your other side, maintaining an appropriate distance, so he is close but not touching you or brushing his arm against yours.

At one point, the crowd of people won't let you walk four in a row, so Lucy and Sejanus take the lead. You and Coryo follow behind them, a little apart. There's a strange silence between you. You shift your gaze to his, and you see that he is already watching you.

"I think I should thank you for saving her. It's not that easy to keep that tramp out of danger. And believe me, I know what I'm saying; I've known her since we were children."

"Yes, she is very… alive. But that was just my job as her mentor." He says this as you both walk down the dark streets. The moonlight and a few lanterns illuminate it so much that you can walk freely in the dark without tripping over any protruding stones.

"Was it also your duty to become a peacekeeper and come to 12?" Your question clearly surprises him. He didn't expect anyone to connect... the events or have the courage to ask him about it. Lucy Gray didn't do it. But you weren't Lucy Gray. You were better. And he was starting to see it.

"It wasn't... planned." He says this and clears his throat, looking at Lucy Gray and Sejanus laughing together about something. "But I'm not going to stay here long."

"Did you come here for her or for him?" You ask, seeing his jaw clench as he watches them both.

"None. I just had to do it." He responds dryly, clearly not wanting to talk about it further. You didn't know who he was jealous of, but you could recognise that feeling in others' eyes perfectly. And he was definitely jealous. You only wondered about what. About Lucy Gray, Sejanus, or just about what was between them?

"A lonely wolf. I see." You comment and turn your head towards the Hanging Tree.

Coriolanus takes the opportunity to get a better look at you. You don't have an outfit as bold and colourful as Lucy Gray. You were rather quiet and thoughtful. He couldn't' say that he wasn't captivated by the aura that his former tribute had around her, but he somehow found himself feeling better in the silence between the two of you than he ever felt around Lucy Gray and her wild personality.

You had also really beautiful eyes.

"And what about you?" He asks, wanting to get your attention again.

At first, he stayed close to you just to spite Lucy Gray, but after she obviously ignored him, he had no intention of talking to you anymore. But something about you drew him to you. And maybe it was your caution; maybe he wanted to break it and set it as a challenge, a distraction while he was in District 12, or maybe he just wanted attention? He did not know. It irritated him how much he wanted to see your eyes sparkling teasingly in the lamplight again. 

"Me?" You looked up at him, giving him your full attention. He almost smiled. Almost.

"Are you remaining here for her or for someone else? I know there is a need for good hunters in many other and better districts. Why are you stuck here when you could be hunting somewhere else? Have a better place to live?" He asks, unable to understand you.

You obviously didn't feel comfortable in District 12. No one could. And he knew from Lucy Gray's histories and his brief observation of your actions that someone like you, with your skills, could easily get a transfer to a wealthier district. But you didn't. He wanted to know why.

"What if I like it here?" You ask with a shrug. He frowns, looking around. You are passing by mouldy buildings, some houses are made of ood—you say it while they walk down the poorest alley in 12. Coriolanus believes he saw a rat running in front of you, but he doesn't want to think about it.

"Here?" He asks with disbelief and a hint of disgust in his voice, to which you giggle, almost laughing.

And instead of Coriolanus being offended and threatening you (he's a peacekeeper after all; he could make you spend a day in detention, and if you were anyone else, he definitely would do that), but somehow Snow can't do anything but smile, while admiring you.

However, he takes his eyes off you, even though he's tempted to look at you longer. He can't afford to have another weakness. To have another Lucy Gray. Although he doesn't think you'd push him away that easily for Sejanus or anyone else, like she did.

You and he were similar. Both of you were withdrawn, silent, observers, taking into account the threats. You did not play heroes with bravado and did not count on good luck, only on their own minds and skills.

"No, not here. I am not mad yet." You say, snapping him from his thoughts."The forests are beautiful. The fields. Rivers and lakes. The rest of Panem is industrialized. Concrete and factories everywhere. There is... a kind of peace here if you close your eyes to certain things. Maybe you will stay here long enough to find out about it by yourself." And something about you—the warm tone of your voice and the sparkles in your eyes as you talk about your favourite places—makes Coriolanus feel a sudden urge to stay here for a while—just as you suggested. Since he was going to be here for a while anyway, he might as well have some fun... right?

"I could use a guide." He says this before he can even think about it, as he sees Lucy Gray slowing down, obviously getting closer to your house.

He didn't know why he cared so much about seeing you again. You were nothing. Just a district hunter. He would leave the 12, find a way to get back to the Capitol, and forget about everything that brought him here. But damn, that little smile of yours made him feel butterflies in his stomach. He was pathetic. And he hated himself for it.

"I can be one."

"Aren't you afraid that people will see you with the peacekeeper?" You raise your eyebrows, shocked by his words. "I saw you looking around. Don't worry. She specifically directs us to streets that are... less frequented." He reveals his observations to you, and for the first time since you two introduced yourself, he sees that the note of fear and caution has disappeared from your eyes for a moment.

Your curious look causes him to have heart palpitations. That was weird for him. Maybe he was sick? He just hoped he hadn't caught anything from those bar rats.

"You really are perceptive, aren't you?" You ask, and he shivers, feeling your analytical gaze on him.

Coriolanus can't say he doesn't enjoy the thrill of excitement as you both try to solve the secrets the other is hiding. Talking to you was… nice. Most of the peacekeepers were as dumb as nails. Muscle mass and nothing else. And he had grown tired of Sejanus's moralising talk a long time ago. Talking to you would be good for him in some way. He wouldn't go completely crazy here. At least that's how he tried to explain to himself his strange and sudden desire to meet you again. And often. Very often.

"I was told so." He says this as you arrive at the door of your house. Coriolanus looks around carefully and is pleased to see that this is one of the better, quieter alleys. He makes a mental note to take more night shifts here. Just to keep an eye on you.

Before you walk into your house with Lucy Gray, you turn to look at him one last time.

"Well, I hope you won't miss the Capitol too much... Coryo." And when his nickname leaves your lips, he knows that this won't be the last time he sees you.

He watches as the door closes behind the two of you, taking in the last sight of you. He returns with Sejanus to their unit, completely ignoring his chatter about Lucy Gray as he thinks about you. Over time, he will find that he will do this more and more often. Thinking about you.

But neither of you knows how much you will regret this night in the future.

You walk up the stairs of the presidential palace wearing a beautiful white dress. Your mask fits to the top of your face, revealing only your mouth, chin and part of your jaw. You feel terrible, but you have to somehow blend in with the crowd of rich assholes who are enjoying their president's birthday party while district children tremble at the thought of the upcoming 22nd Hunger Games.

The only thought that comforts you is that he will die before dawn. And that you can have a glass of champagne.

You give your cloak and fake invitation to some peacekeeper the poor avox who are waiting at the entrance to serve everyone gathered. It makes you want to vomit when you think about how the man you let touch yourself became such a monster who decided to sew their mouths shut instead of cutting out their tongues.

Of course, with a red thread.

You go deeper into the room. You try to stay in the crowd, not on the outskirts, so as not to catch anyone's eye and so HE won't be able to see you. It may have been 12 years, but you're not sure if he forgot about you enough to not recognise your figure in the crowd. Maybe you tormented his nightmares as much as he tormented yours. You hoped to. Bastard didn't deserve to sleep soundly like a baby.

You're standing in a group of people, listening and laughing at the stories being told, and you're about to excuse yourself and browse around the big villa a bit and place some of the traps when suddenly you hear a tapping on a glass. You turn around with the rest of the people, making sure you're neither in the front nor the last row.

You freeze as Coriolanus' voice echoes through the room.

You have prepared for this moment many times. You predicted thousands of different scenarios for your first meeting, after... that special, rainy day at the lake when you went your separate ways. And you thought you were ready to bear the sight of him. But as soon as you look up at him, you feel your heart beat nervously. And not in that exciting way when you see your prey and are ready to attack.

As you sing a forced 'Happy Birthday' with other people after his speech, you allow yourself to steal one brief glance at him. He looks different.

More mature. More dangerous. Stronger. Powerful.

The golden mask, the only one of its kind in the room, covering his nose and just a small part of his face, the part around his eyes and eyebrows, only emphasises this more clearly.

And the red colour of his suit, along with all his... dominant attitude that emanates from him, are enough evidence of the red flag he was that you didn't notice when he was a peacekeeper in a blue uniform. His hair is longer and slicked back with gel, emphasising his rough, hard jawline and piercing blue, icy eyes. The man who stood in the middle of the room was dangerous. So much so that you felt nervous, thinking about how the hell you were going to kill him today.

You had a plan, but you knew that in every pursuit of prey, there were risks that could not be predicted. When hunting a bear, you don't face it with all your strength. You are waiting for the moment to attack. And now, looking at Coriolanus Snow in all his glory, you began to have doubts about your plan and the abilities of the other rebels. Maybe you will have to play the first violin this evening and aim a gun at him yourself. You shiver at even the thought of it.

And then his eyes find yours. For a very short while, but enough to make you shiver under his glance.

He blinks at you, then shifts his gaze to something or someone else. You feel a lump building in your throat, the words of the song being forced out of your mouth with a more and more trembling voice. He recognised you. Or not. You did not know. His subsequent actions didn't indicate it, but he had been staring at you for far too long to be sure of anything.

You don't like how quickly you're losing control.

That's why you leave at the first opportunity, hiding in the bathroom upstairs. You wait for the peacekeeper patrol to pass, and when they go to the second floor, you start setting up traps at the different spots of the presidential palace. You decide to forget about the events from a few minutes ago for a moment. Only peace will save you. You know about it. That's why you do everything to forget about his icy irises.

Well, at least until you have to go back to the ballroom again.

"A little higher." He whispers in your ear behind you, his hand wrapped around yours, as you aim his shotgun at the deer. "Eyes open, breath held, muscles tense."

You shoot and hit the animal. The gun bounces slightly, but Coriolanus holds you close and tight enough that you barely change your position, only trembling slightly as the gun clicks off.

"I prefer arrows, but thanks for showing me how to use it." You say cheekily as you approach the deer you have aimed perfectly at.

He shakes his head at you, slinging the gun over his shoulder. He watches you as you kneel next to the deer, preparing it to be carried to the district.

"You know, my teachings aren't free." He says this as you get up and walk towards the river to wash your hands. He takes the deer's body and obediently follows you.

He had the day off today and decided to use it to spend time with you. Lately, he's been running away from everyone more and more often to walk in the forest with you. You were talking and fooling around. Coriolanus has never felt so... free as with you. He could get used to this. If he hadn't experienced the comforts of the Capitol. He knew you would get used to the capital. Maybe he'd even let you go on little trips and escapades in the woods once he got back there with you as his wife. Of course, only with him. And with peacekeepers guarding you two, he didn't want to end up like his father.

"Isn't it?" You ask with that mischievous smile of yours, washing your hands in the river. "And here I thought you were noble, private Snow."

"Stop it." He growls menacingly as you don't call him by a nickname he loved to hear from your lips. But you can see by the sparkle of amusement in his eyes. A smile spreads across your face as you continue fooling around.

"Only that? You know that I love to tease you too much to just stop..." He cuts you off mid-sentence, leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss.

You freeze for a moment, feeling his lips brush against yours and his hand run through the back of your hair. Even if you wanted to pull away from him, you couldn't because of the way he wrapped his hands around you. You should feel trapped and outraged by his behaviour, by the fact that he didn't ask for your permission or leave you the chance to pull away. But all you could do then was grab him by his dog tag and pull him closer to you.

You moan into his mouth as you find out that kissing Coriolanus Snow is the most pleasurable thing in the world.

You place your hands on either side of his neck as he grabs your waist gently, pressing your bodies as close to each other as possible. His lips caress yours gently at first, testing the waters. When he sees that you're not pulling away from him, he deepens the kiss, completely taking over the control that, surprisingly, you willingly give him. You've never been kissed like this in your life. So desperate, so needy, so possessive. And you know that you will never feel this way with anyone else in your life.

And for the first time, you have the opportunity to feel that moment that has been repeated so often in books—kissing someone until you have no more oxygen left in your lungs. Because before him, no one wanted you enough to give you half the sensations that Coriolanus gave you. And you suspected that he felt the same.

"I had this type of payment in mind." He whispers hoarsely, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes are closed, giving you the opportunity to admire his face up close. And god, he's perfect. In all his ounces, you can't even imagine how ethereal he must have been in the Capitol. (The perfect devil, tempting you until you fall.)

"Oh... um... well... be careful… with such a low payment you may be… taken advantage of by some girls." You manage to gasp, gathering the remnants of your mind that weren't occupied with the thought of him and the heavy breathing he was taking because of you.

"There is only one girl in this terrible, musty place, for whose special attention I can get anything she whishes." He says this, opening his eyes and cupping your cheek tenderly. And if your nature were any different (or if he would use a little more of his charm on you), you would melt under his touch, but you couldn't resist the opportunity he gave you.

"Anything, you say..." You mutter in mock thought with a smirk. And all Corilanus can do is smirk stupidly when he sees the familiar spark of malice in your eyes.

He enjoyed challenges, and he liked it even more when he beat you every time in your 'little fights and teasing'. He liked that you weren't completely submissive and that you could fight and banter with him instead of trembling in fear and trusting him blindly. You were almost his equal. Not that he was searching for one. But of all the girls, he knows you were the closest to his perfection. He just needed to work on your compliance a little bit before he could take you with him to the Capitol. After all, you couldn't tease him in public.

"Don't tease." He warns, humming as well, a smirk blooming on his lips despite his attempts to fight it off. He could afford a little... frivolity in the district. He would act completely differently in the Capitol, but for now, he enjoyed every carefree moment with you he could get. He couldn't remember the last time he had had to worry about the opinion of society.

"Oh, but that's the funniest thing to do now..." You continue with a smirk, leaning in to steal a kiss from him. He accepts it with a smile that quickly fades as you pull away from him and run away, laughing.

"And what is this?!" He shouts, running after you.

"A hunting lesson! I won't kiss you for yours in return, Snow!" You reply with a laugh, speeding up.

You ran away from him for an hour until you got tired of it all and ran into him laughing, deciding that he'd had enough of him chasing you for now. He immediately took you into his arms and kissed you, holding you tightly to his chest so that his rapidly beating heart was palpable to you. You placed small kisses on his snout as he held you tightly in his embrace, panting.

"Promise you'll never run away from me. That you'll never leave me." You raise your eyebrows in shock at his request, but you don't question it. You simply nod and press a kiss of promise to his lips as he pushes you against the nearest tree.

Your kiss becomes more feverish, more urgent as you feel his hardness through his peacekeeper uniform. Just a few weeks ago, you would have despised yourself for being so close to him. But it was your Coryo. That's why you don't interrupt him when he unzips your pants and takes them and your underwear off in one move.

You hold your breath as he kneels in front of you and grabs your hips with an iron grip. He presses a kiss on your thighs, teasing you and leaving little bites and bruises there before graciously shifting his attention to where you really need it. You moan, biting your lip to keep from screaming as he slowly circles your clit with his tongue, teasing you to no end. He pushes your hips against the tree every time you try to push against his tongue from a different angle. This frustrates you even more, especially after the gun slung over his shoulder shifts, causing the barrel of the shotgun to dig into your stomach.

"Coryo..." You moan, scratching his head as you try and futilely try to grab his close-cropped hair. He moans at the feeling, stimulating you even more.

He takes pity on you, putting more effort into his work as his fingers start to hit the spot that made you lost your mind. The bark of the tree digs into your back, but all you feel is Coriolanus; your entire world is limited to the movements of his fingers that bring you unimaginable pleasure that cannot be described in any words. All you can do is moan his name, which he finds flattering enough to make you cum around his fingers. Although he had no plan to let you cum when he started to play with your sweet cunt. You were making him too soft for you...

His tongue teases you as he licks along your knee, up your thigh, to stop a few moments before the place where you really needed him to reach your peak of pleasure. He smirks and suddenly bites into your thigh, causing a scream of his name from your lips to echo through the forest. He grunts, licking and sucking the spot on your thigh that he bit, feeling how he hardened in his pants by simply sucking your skin and fingering you. He loved every single sound you made because of him. If tasting you on his lips wasn't as tempting for him as it was for now, he would just kneel there and watch how you kept chasing your orgasm on his fingers.

"Scream for me, my little hunter." He says this and leans forward. His nose teases your clit before he finally licks you, testing your taste. He moans as his favourite flavour spreads across his taste buds. If he had you in the Capitol, he would never starve, he thinks as he begins to fuck you with his tongue, collecting everything that his skillful fingers caused to flow from your little pussy. For him. Because of him. His.

You grip his arms tightly, his gun somehow twisted so that it was pressed against your leg and stomach, but you don't care as he kneels in front of you and sucks the senses out of you through your cunt. You can only moan loudly and scream his name, digging your nails into his shoulders as you pull him closer to you as he makes you come. He licks up everything he gets for his work, leaving nothing to leak from your thighs onto the forest floor.

Coriolanus feels his hardness pressing against his pants, but chooses to ignore it. He won't take you like some district barbarian in the woods. He will do it well. Maybe even in the Capitol... you would look beautiful, wrapped in the most expensive sheets. And while you catch your breath and try to recover, he wonders how he's going to get his little hunter with him back to the Capitol when Dr. Gaul replies to the message he sent her.

He adjusts the gun hanging on his shoulder and stands up, licking his fingers off of the remains of your sweet juices. Unimaginable pride rises in his chest, as does a feeling of possessiveness when he sees your knees shaking and you barely standing, leaning on the tree behind you. He chuckles, remembering the sight. He will definitely think about it, while jerking off himself when he will be alone at the barracks.

"I will always catch you. No matter how long it takes." He says, taking you in his arms when he sees that you're unable to stand on your own in your post-orgasm haze. Another thing that increases his ego.

You didn't know how much that sweet promise would turn out to be a bloodthirsty threat. So you let him carry you through the forest as you both headed back to 12.

The next day, you were delivered money in exchange for the deer you and Private Snow had hunted together. From his superior, Commander Hoff. Even then, he was using you for his own gain.

"Are you lost, miss?" You stop in your quick steps. You curse internally when you hear his voice in the hall. You were about to go downstairs and go to the ballroom. But no. Coriolanus Snow always had to screw up your job.

"Mr. President." You say, trying to change your tone of voice as you turn around and see him. "I was just looking for a spare bathroom."

"Ah yes. Women's ones seem to be… very crowded. Have you made it, little bathroom hunter, or do you need help?" He asks, walking over to you. He shouldn't be here. Certainly not that close to you. Meg was supposed to focus his attention on her and flirt with him. You didn't know what the hell he was doing on the first floor instead of in the ballroom celebrating his birthday.

And when he called you a hunter, you tried your hardest not to shiver in fear at the thought of him seeing through you. But if he recognised you, would he act so... calm around you? Peacekeepers would probably have surrounded you long ago if he had...

"I did it, Mr. President. Ah! Happy birthday! May you watch over us for a very long time." You wish him well, and he just smiles. This isn't one of his forced, political smiles. No.

It was a wolfish smile, a dangerous one. The one that he had a habit of showing you when he managed to outsmart you tracked you down in the forests of District 12.

"Thank you, my darling. You wouldn't deny a man his birthday wishes, would you?" A shiver runs through you as his irises focus on you. His tone is quieter and darker as he asks you a seemingly innocent question. But you know very well that nothing about Coriolanus Snow is innocent.

"Of course not, Mr. President." You reply courteously, already afraid of what he might want from you.

"Great. May I then?" He asks, sticking out his hand as he asks you to dance with a polite smile (if the devil can wear one).

"With great pleasure." You say, placing your hand in his. Without knowing why, you feel like you're putting it in the mouth of a lion... or in this case, a snake.

He holds your hand tightly as he helps you down the stairs. He doesn't let go of you for a second, and once you reach the dance floor, he wraps his arm around your waist and presses you against him, making you feel all his muscles hidden under his clothes. His eyes also never leave yours, which makes you very uncomfortable. Your anxiety only gets greater as you can't see the faces of the other members of your rebellion in the room.

"Nervous? Don't worry. You dance great." The smirk never leaves his face. And that's the kind of sly smirk. Of course, you dance great. After all, he taught you that himself in District 12.

"Thank you, Mr. President." At one point, the dance requires him to turn you around and press your back against his chest. You shiver as you feel his breath on your neck, then on your ear as he leans down, so he is very close to you.

"Do you think I'm stupid enough not to recognise you, Y/N? That I don't dream about you every night? That I didn't notice you when you and your ridiculous group of district dogs burst into my presidential palace?" You struggle, trying to break free from his grip, but he only grips your hip tighter, enough to surely leave bruises in the form of his fingers.

Coriolanus presses his lips against your temple and nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent. You shiver in his arms at the familiar feeling of his closeness. You feel the gun hidden under his vest press against the back of your back. A tender reminder of how you both were still enemies and a deadly threat to each other.

His hands roam over your body, exploring you as much as he can manage in a crowd of people. But you doubt anyone would dare point out how he presses his crotch against your ass, forcing you to feel every last bit of him as he continues whispering darkly into your ear. "I've been hunting you for so many years... only for you to come running straight to me, as always. I honestly couldn't have asked for a better birthday present. Let's play a game. Our favourite, darling. Try to escape, my little hunter." He hums as he finally lets go of you.

You're not wasting your time.

You don't turn to see him smirking mockingly, to see the way his cheeks have turned slightly pink from the adrenaline and excitement coursing through his veins, or to see the way the bulge in his pants has become slightly more visible.

You run away from him without looking back, pushing through the crowd of people who are leaving in panic after the announcement that they must leave the villa immediately as a result of the detection of an attempted assassination of the head of state.

But not everything is lost yet.

You saw a few familiar faces in the crowd of people, including Meg and Joseph. And you know that if you want to save your plan and the members of the rebellion, then you have to get Coriolanus' full attention. Make him drop his guard and focus entirely on you.

That's why instead of trying to escpae you stop at the foot of the stairs leading to the first floor.

You watch the crowd of people storming towards the exit. Peacekeepers are pushing through them, some trying to catch the more suspicious ones and interrogate them; everyone is focused on the exit door. So you had to go upstairs. You see Coriolanus slowly walking out of the ballroom. He looks around for you, and when his eyes catch yours, he stops, examining you. You kick off your high heels and run upstairs.

You run forward, hearing the clatter of his shoes close behind you.

You avoid all the traps you have set and hide in one of the rooms. Your feet feel icy from the cool marble you're walking on, but you don't pay much attention to it. Your heart is racing, and you try to breathe as quietly as possible as you hide behind the curtain, listening.

The first thing he does is open all the doors. Of course, carefully and not by himself. He was fully aware that you might have some unpleasant surprises in store for him. He was made very aware of it by one of the peacekeepers who went with him and unlocked the mechanism that caused his beautiful crystal chandelier to fall on the soldier's head.

The maids will have to clean the blood from the white marble again. The next time he renovates the villa, he will have to think about a more... useful floor colour.

"Guard the remaining floors and all exits. Two of you stand by the stairs. I'll take care of this one myself. You go and catch the rest of these street rats." He orders them in a dry tone.

He knows full well that he can fight you alone, and he will do it much better than this bunch of idiots. You weren't just a pure force. You were the mastermind. And only Coriolanus was smart enough to follow your way of thinking and catch you. Just like he always did.

You hold your breath as you hear the footsteps of the peacekeepers spreading across the floor. Only Coriolanus remains. You hear his breathing and his slow, methodical steps. You can imagine him analyzing the hall, looking for traps and potential threats you could prepare for him.

"You know you can't escape, right?" he begins, his footsteps echoing off the walls of the empty, silent corridor. "You've been slipping out of my hands for too long, little hunter. Do you think I don't remember our lessons? That I don't know your systems and customs? I don't know that you packed the entire presidential palace with your little surprises. What a pity that you will never catch me in any of them..."

You hear him enter the room next to you. He drops something to the floor and steps away, closing the door with a bang as the mechanism activates, spreading corrosive gas across the room that was intended to hurt him.

"Really? Such a school trick? I thought you knew better than to test such... childish methods on me, darling. I remember you telling me about something like this after a particular night at your apartment. Can you believe that I remember much better those lessons during which you were moaning and screaming my name?" He chuckles, sinisterly, darkly at the memory.

And then you hear a step. And another one. And another one. Slow, unhurried, and careful. It was so quiet that you wouldn't have heard them if the villa wasn't as quiet as it is now.

He was approaching you slowly and saliently, just as you taught him all those years ago. As usual, he turned out to be a very talented student.

"I never thought you'd be a rebel. After all, you were always so submissive to me... especially under me. And wanting me dead... you know I've killed and turned into Avox for lesser crimes against me and the Panem? But don't worry... your mouth and tongue are too useful for me to take the pleasure they can give away from me ever again."

He starts whistling, checking another room. As you hear him pulling the covers off the bed, you slowly emerge from your hiding place. You take a small step closer to the bathroom and freeze as the floor creaks beneath you.

"Spikes embedded in the mattress? Were you hoping to seduce me and put me on this deathbed? We can always try this... on a less lethal mattress, of course. What would you say, little hunter? Pardon. My sweet rebel?" You close the door quietly behind you and look around the dark room. Window. Maybe if you could open it...

"All these years, and you still use the same perfume." He grunts and closes the door behind him. You shudder, realising that he knows you're in this room. You tighten your hand on the knife hidden in the sleeve of your dress and wait in the cold bathroom for his next steps. "Don't you have a little Deja vu? It reminds me of when you and Lucy Gray ran away from me. That bitch is still hiding. I suspect you don't know where, but you are in contact through some letters or something. As soon as I find her, I will kill her on the spot. I know very well that she was the reason you left me. Don't get me wrong, I'm also angry at you for that... but not as mad as I am at her."

After Sejanus was hanged, he and you planned to escape together. And God, you loved it. You would have sacrificed your whole life for him if it weren't for Lucy Gray, who told you the truth about your beloved devil. So when he came out of the cottage near the lake, worrying about how you had been gone for too long and looking for you with a gun in his hand, you ran away.

"Y/N! Y/N, where are you?! Y/N! Y/N! I will find you! There is no fucking place you can hide from me! Can you hear me, hunter?! NO FUCKING PLACE! YOU ARE MINE! YOU WILL BE ALWAYS MINE! I will mark you like cattle and tie you to my side forever!"

You dream of his screams at some night.

"You promised you wouldn't leave me! You lying bitch!"

You hear his footsteps in the other room as he opens the curtains and checks to see if you're outside the window.

"You think I won't find you?! That you can crawl into a hole that I can't get you out of?! YOU'RE MINE, Y/N! Alive or dead, I don't care! YOU BELONG TO ME!"

You hear him take steps towards the closet, opening it and throwing things out, making sure it's empty. You hear him knocking over several items—the bed, the armchairs. You hold your breath as there is complete silence. He's probably looking at the bathroom door.

You feel your heart beating in your chest just as fast as it did that day when you hid from him as he walked around with a gun, screaming and calling for you. And you almost left. You almost left, wanting to fall into his arms as he kneeled in the middle of the forest and cried, smelling his mother's scarf that he gave you and which was saturated with your scent. But before you could, he screamed and started shooting at the mockingjays in the trees. So you ran away.

And you've been running away since then, hoping that you were a terrible teacher to him and that he would never find you...

"If you leave willingly, I will spare you the unpleasant part, my little rebel. Maybe you can even convince me to forget your transgressions completely… well within reason. However, I suspect that my bed is more comfortable than the floor of a prison cell. Don't you think?"

Maybe if he had used a less mocking tone, if you hadn't heard the pleasure dripping from his voice at his superiority over you and the excitement at catching you, then maybe you would have left willingly. You shake your hand, holding the knife tighter in your hand. No. You wouldn't leave and let him catch you without a fight. He has done too much to you and to other district people to pretend he's not a monster.

"I count to three." You hold your breath, stopping yourself from shaking. The cool air gives you goosebumps as you wait for him to take a step closer to the bathroom's door. "One."

You hear the rustle of fabric; he must have taken off his jacket and probably his mask too. You reach up to your face and untie your own mask, taking it off with a trembling hands.

"Two." Before he enters the room, you hide, so you're standing behind the door, which Coriolanus opens before he counts to three.

Another trick you taught him. Act unpredictably. Don't warn the prey about your next step, and don't let it catch you by surprise.

That's why Coriolanus stands still when he sees the bathroom window open. Your mask lies on the windowsill, taunting him as the moonlight reflects off the silver thread from which it was sewn and glows, tempting him to follow the trail.

That's why, as soon as he comes to the window, you quickly step out from behind the door and close it behind you with a bang.

A moment later, you hear his curses and quick footsteps. You run forward and enter the next room, being careful not to activate any mechanisms. Just as you close the door behind you, you feel him grab the handle on the other side.

In a panic, you do the same and pull the door towards you, wrestling with him. You know it won't get you very far. Coriolanus was stronger than you. He would get inside quickly. You had to think of another way to escape and create distance between you.

"That's enough, Y/N! We had fun, but that's it. You have no way to escape. You know it damn well! Be a good girl and get out." He growls at you, trying to push the door open and get inside.

"So you can kill me?! Hang me like Sejanus?!" You ask angrily, wrestling with him at the door. You feel yourself getting weaker, so you make an instinctive decision. You let go of the door and ran to the window, opening it. You turn around as the door slams shut. You two are standing in the same room again.

You look at each other carefully. You both breathe quickly, analysing each other's possible movements.

"You know I would never hurt you." He starts by taking a small step towards you. You step back to the open window, and he freezes. You may have been on the first floor, but the presidential palace was huge. If you jump out, you will smash into the asphalt and die. And he won't win. Coriolanus cannot afford this. That's why he's standing still for now.

"You killed people. How was I supposed to know I wouldn't be next?" You accuse him, trying to keep your voice from shaking. Your mind analyses all the possibilities. You're tempted to jump. Free yourself from him once and for all. Make him lose. Although this time.

"You could have trusted me. Just a little longer."

"Sorry, I have a survival instinct. Very strong survival instinct." You say this, avoiding his gaze. He takes advantage of your distraction and takes a step towards you, which you don't notice because you are too busy thinking of an escape plan.

"Not that big since you came here. For what? To kill me? Will you stab me in the heart, Y/N? Will you shoot me? Will you poison me?"

"You left me no other choice." You growl at him, furious, tightening your grip on the dagger.

"You don't want to do this. I know you. If you really wanted me to fall into a trap, you'd make it so that I couldn't move my damn foot an inch without activating something. So I'll ask again. Why did you come here?"

You do not know. Really. You can't answer his question.

Because... Yes, you hated him. And yes, you despised him. And yes, you were afraid of the monster he had become. But nothing could change the fact that, deep down, you loved him. You cried hundreds of tears because of him, which ricocheted off the walls of the wall you so eagerly built around yourself and your stupid hearth so no one else would be able to hurt you again. You didn't let anyone else get to know you. Not like Coriolanus did. He was the only one who saw the real you. The part of you that you were so afraid to show anyone else or to even look at them by yourself.

"Y/N. Look at me." It's not a request. This is a command. Subtle, but still. And you know, that's all he'll give you. Commands, expectations.

Never look your prey in the eyes. The first rule you taught him. The only one he always broke.

Maybe because of sadism? Maybe he enjoyed watching realisation shine in his victims' eyes as they realised he was winning. But you can't resist following his command and looking into those icy irises you once knew so well.

Or maybe he really cared about you more than anyone else. You'd like to believe that.

"I can give you everything. The whole world. All you have to do is trust me." He says, taking a few steps closer to you. You bite your lip. You can try to run away, but you know he will catch you. You weren't on your own turf. And he had a hundred tracking dogs, ready to find you. Crook.

"Trust you? After everything you've done?" You mock him. But he doesn't answer. There is perfect silence in the room.

Before you know it, he runs towards you. He activates the mechanism, causing a crossbow arrow to pierce his arm. He ignores it in favour of reaching out to you. He quickly injects something into your neck, holding you tightly against his chest. You stabbed him in the stomach. His blood spurts onto your dress as he makes sure you can't move, ignoring his wounds for a moment. Of course, he retaliates by tightening his grip on you, leaving his fingerprints on your skin.

"So you chose the hard path. Too bad, my little hunter. For you. I'll be damned glad to have the opportunity to train you. I will make you the perfect first lady, my darling." He whispers in your ear, and as you fall unconscious in his arms, you realise one terrifying thing. He caught you. He won this round.

You have to put plan B into action all alone.

You foresaw that your plan might fail and that someone would betray you. That's why you and Meg came up with... a contingency plan. After all, you had to keep your promise.

You're not leaving this presidential palace until you see the life drain from Coriolanus Snow. It will be your prison until then. A golden cage. No matter how long it will take... Or at least try to convince yourself that you have to do it. Because you know you must do it for the good of Panem. That you can't back down from anything at the next opportunity. You can't hesitate. No matter how much you will be drunk on the blame and pain of killing him.

It was a game of survival. A game only you and Coriolanus knew how to play. You had to win. For the good of people. To stop the suffering he caused.

After all, the caged wolf was still a threat. Even for poisonous snakes.

PART 2 (last)

[whereireid]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐘 — masterlist

pairing: patrick bateman x fem!reader

Summary: Patrick gives up control for one night. It doesn’t exactly go the way that you want it to.

— warnings: nsfw content, sub!patrick but he still has psychological control ofc, blowjobs, teasing, restraints, choking

"Are you trying to get me to beg?" Patrick asks, his brows knitting together as he watches your naked frame kneel before him, an uncomfortable throb shooting to the tent in his briefs as your tongue darts out to wet your lips. "Because if that's what you're doing, then I can assure you that I'm not going to plead to get you to touch me."

A soft coo slips past your lips as you stroke your fingers up Patrick's thigh, the muscle tensing involuntarily as your digits teasingly edge closer to the place where he wants you to touch him the most. You can tell that he's frustrated by the ticking of his jaw and the flaring of his nostrils, and you shoot him a loving smile as he glares down at you.

"You know how much I want you to beg," you murmur, your eyes glinting with mischief as you cup Patrick's hard cock through his briefs, a low groan drawing from the depth of his throat as you do so. "Please, Patrick? I want to hear how badly you want me."

"I'm not going to beg you to touch me.” His voice is emotionless, yet his throat grows dry when he watches your tongue comes out again, this time not to wet your lips but to lick at the outline of his cock through his briefs. "I'll get what I want eventually.” He tenses as you leave a wet stripe up his briefs, before he mockingly adds, “honey.”

You pout, your fingers careful as they slip under the band of his briefs, tugging at the Italian-made cotton softly. "At least pretend like I'm the one in control here," you huff, your hand curling around his cock, your lips quirking upwards as his pink tip leaks with precum. "Humour me a little, Patrick. Beg. Please?”

Patrick tries to ignore how comedic this situation actually is. He's the one tied up right now — his wrists are bound together with rope and he's tethered to the headboard, but somehow, he has all of the control. You're literally begging him to plead with you. If he was in your position and you were denying him of such sweetness, he'd bring out one of his knives and then you'd start blubbering and pleading like it's nobody's business.

He decides to humour you.

"Please suck my cock, honey. I need it so bad. I need it more than anything," he says flatly, the tip of his cock twitching against your cupid's bow as you beam up at him, "you have no idea what you do to me."

Surprisingly, it doesn't work.

"Don't mock me, Patrick. You're a little bit frustrated. I can see how tense you are." A low groan draws from his throat as you lick a delicate stripe up his length, careful to trace along his veins, your tongue sweetly swirling around his swollen head when you reach his tip. "If you don't comply with my orders, you're not getting what you want."

"Just put it in your mouth."

"I'll put it in my mouth when you ask me properly."

There it is — the tick in his jaw, the flaring of his nostrils, the intense, downcast gaze. You're pushing his boundaries, and you grin as he huffs, your lips carefully pressing gentle kisses against his length.

Your movements are incredibly gentle as you cup his balls in the palm of your hand, your tongue flicking out to toy with the needy head of his cock. His eyes crinkle shut and his nose scrunches as you lick a slow, deliberate stripe from the head of his cock down to his balls, your tongue flattening against his length as you bring your skilful muscle back up to his tip.

It's torture. Delicious torture. His nostrils flare when you pull away, a lewd string of spit trailing from his cock to your lips. You look up at him through lidded eyes, and your heart races in your chest as you see how black and blown his pupils are, his hazel irises sheathed from the dilation of his lust.

Pride resides in the depth of Patrick's chest. He didn't think you actual had it in you to tease him, but as you pepper sultry kisses to his cock, he realises that he's actually beginning to lose patience. His hips thrust against your face involuntarily, and an embarrassing whine catches in his throat as you tease him.

"I won't ask again," he says, and there's an edge to his tone that has your heart wrenching and fear prickling at your skin, "put it in your mouth. Please."

You smile.

It's the closest you're ever going to get to Patrick pleading with you. This small act of submission is enough — his bound wrists were his idea, not yours, meaning he was still in control even when he was complying with your demands to be domineering for once.

"Only because you asked so nicely," you tease, flinching under his warning gaze, your lips wrapping around the head of his cock carefully.

Your mouth is so warm and so wet, and Patrick's jaw clenches so hard that he wonders how he hasn't broken a tooth in the process. You feel so good as you roll your head up and down his cock lazily, your tongue trailing around his length as you force your head down, your nose pressing against his crotch as you take every inch of his cock inside of your mouth.

You gag. It's like heaven — the constriction of your throat tightens the grip your mouth has on his cock, and the warm, familiar feeling of arousal pools in your belly as Patrick hisses from above you, the muscles of his thighs flexing underneath your touch. There's something so intimate about how he's giving himself to you, how he's allowing you to have control, and you flush under his heavy gaze as you choke around his length, still not quite used to the uncomfortable girth of his cock.

"I'm glad that I made you bind me to the bed with these ropes," Patrick breathes from above you, his eyes starry as your tongue flicks over his tip, rolling over his slit carefully. "I want to hurt you so badly. If I wasn't restrained I think I'd ruin you completely."

The twitching head of his cock is a good enough signal that he's close. He grunts from above you, and it feels like he's been punched as his eyes lock onto yours, your mouth set upwards into a smile, your mouth glistening with salvia and precum.

Patrick's eyelids flutter shut, and you giggle as he groans again — usually he's not so vocal — using his moans as means of encouragement, forcing your head down, taking in all of his length, until you can no longer breathe breathe.

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes and your lungs are burning by the time that he cums. You struggle against him, squeezing your eyes shut, taking in every inch of him, your tongue lewdly lapping at his balls in an attempt to shock him through his orgasm.

And it works. Patrick is so tense that you can feel every single indentation of muscle, and your fingers dart over his chiselled abs, your cunt pulsing with need as he spews incoherent insults from above you.

By the time your breathing has steadied and you've finished swallowing, Patrick is no longer tense. He's no longer twitching, but his cock is still hard and heavy, a small bead of cum dribbling down his length as he gazes at you such fire you feel like you're being set alight.

"Untie me," he says, his voice dripping with authority and warning, “now."

"Yes, Patrick." You scramble towards him, quick to loosen the knots in the rope, your heart thrashing wildly in your chest.

You realise that the only reason you were in control then is because Patrick let you be. Once the knots are untied, his hands scatter towards your throat, and your eyes are wide and frantic as he presses down on your trachea, cutting off your air supply, making you feel dumb and incredibly horny.

His eyes blaze wildly as he gazes down at you, and he smirks, his pearly white teeth glistening in the florescent lights of his bedrooms as he promises, "you're in for a long night, honey."

[baberoe-archive]

top 10 insane bucky moments?

god where do i start.

perhaps basic of me but getting drunk and then saying he's fine then asking curt to punch him in the face and then howling. perhaps number one bucky moment for me. just absolutely falling apart. i hear that brother. do you ever think about how eps 1-3 he never really lets buck see this side of him. and its only when curt dies that buck is privy to it. yeah i dont think about that either

"maaaaaarge...." is to me far more insane than scissoring in the yard. like at least when he's provoking fights it can be written off as restlessness, but mocking your best friend for taking comfort in his sweetheart's letter with the most sickeningly jealous expression in the world AND right in front of everyone's salad.......... this man is a medieval peasant self-flagellating in the street.

trading his sheepskin that buck hated to go on his first mission after buck went down. he didn't even think about it he just saw jack and ran over and did it. and then when brady asked him about it. he just straight up said "buck always hated that jacket" bitch WHAT

provoking col harding for no reason unprovoked. in front of the men!!! his self destructive tendencies and distaste for authority compel me

also when he starts yelling at that nazi guard on the march. that's such a good moment i get the impression that most of what bucky does is (to some extent) calculated like he knows hes being a dick he knows he flying too close to the sun and thats what he wants yknow he wants to egg people on but this moment he just completely lets go thats the pure thoughtless rage thats been simmering the whole series. god.

offscreen moment (forgive me) but not letting them send bucks footlocker back to the states. and then the 100th kept it for a full year like what did he say??? how desperate was he that no one could bring themselves to move bucks footlocker after a year???

stalag baseball scene. when you put on your off-putting and hard to be around-sona because you feel yourself to be so abandoned and abused that any semblance of gentleness would make you bare your teeth and bite. when you want to bite. when you dont want to bite.

willingly got a dart thrown at his face so he could give his boy best friend a bike so they could bike around together. ohhh my god bitch. down so bad its pathetic

whatever the hell he did to get on the regensberg mission and also the regensberg mission in general. pushing one of the gunners out of the way cause they were going for buck. "reserve command pilot" or whatever. i know what you are.

i dont remember the scene exactly but before the mission when they are getting their gear and hes like "call me sir" and crank goes "none of the people we're bombing today shot down buck" and then he just goes. absolutely silent. nothing to say to that. outline in the shape of a person moment.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

I will sell my SOUL for a part 2 of the Bodyguard Kraven fic!!! 😩 🥺

well no need to sell your soul when I’m right here 😏

part one

𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

Warnings- SMUT 18+, mdni, car sex (yum), pet names (princess), stomach bulge 😩, unprotected sex, p in v, cum eating, fingering, oral (f)

You can’t believe this, you were seriously making out with your bodyguard that your parents hired.

You were making out with Sergei Kravinoff, your very attractive annoying bodyguard, who was always with you. He had just saved your life, and now you were making out with him.

He started to take off his jacket, he was currently on top of you.

“Is this okay?” He mumbled, stopping what he was doing for a second.

You nodded.

“Words.”

“Yes. It’s okay- more than okay.” You said with a small smile.

He nodded and continued to take off his jacket, discarding it onto the car floor. Soon his shirt was off, you admired his god like body, mouth agape.

He smirked at you, and put a hand under your jaw. He made it so you were looking into his eyes.

“Eyes up here, princess.”

You slowly moved your hands to do the same thing, luckily the big, comfortable and spacious back seats giving you room to do so.

He unbuckled his pants as you took off your shirt and pants, leaving your bra and panties on only.

His eyes widened at the sight in front of him. It was like one of his fantasies, or his wet dreams. He couldn’t really believe this was happening.

You smiled when you looked up to see him looking at you shocked, and hungry, eyes blown with lust.

“Eyes up here princess.” You said in a mocking voice, he rolled his eyes and chuckled, shaking his head.

He went over to you to kiss you again, his hands on your cheek, your back against the locked car door.

Luckily he had always parked in empty parking lots because he didn’t want anything to be stolen.

He then moved his hands to the back of your bra, unclasping it quickly and it fell down onto the floor.

He was now painfully hard in his boxers, trying to be as patient and slow as possible.

He slid your panties aside and then slowly slid a finger in. You moaned, and he slowly started to pump his finger in and out, then adding a second finger. Your arousal was dripping onto his hands.

The way you clenched onto him he knew you were about to cum, so he took his fingers out, making you whine.

“S-Sergei-“

“Shh.” He mumbled.

His tongue was soon licking up your pre-cum, making you moan again. He licked your clit, focusing on the small bundle of nerves.

And he was good with his tongue.

“Sergei.. I’m gonna-“

He didn’t say anything, your grip on his curly hair getting tighter.

Your hips bucked, and he used his hand to hold them down.

You came onto his tongue, some of it getting on his beard.

He came up and looked at you, you looked at him back.

He licked his lips, and was quickly taking off his boxers.

He was thick. Huge even. You stared at his cock and back to him.

“That won’t- Sergei-“

“Yes it will.”

“It’s way too…”

He chuckled at your reaction, and ran his thumb over his tip. He stroked it a few times and then put his tip over your entrance, ghosting it.

He looked at you again, you looked at him and nodded.

Slowly he thrusted in, rolling his hips. He stayed still for a little. You both moaned at the feeling.

Soon the pain turned into pleasure, and he started to move in and out, slowly at first.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He groaned.

“Sergei. Faster.” You moaned.

“Doing so good, sweetheart.” He grunted out as he did so, seeing your fucked out face.

He looked at his cock slide in and out of your pussy, the slapping sounds like music to his ears.

“Look at that.” He mumbled, mostly to himself. He could see the outline of his cock in your stomach, he pushed down on it, making you arch your back off the seat and moan. The car was moving back and fourth.

“Sergei-“

“I know, I know. Come for me.” He said, going even faster, he felt almost as if he’d break you by doing so. He leaned down and kissed you.

You quickly came undone on his cock, and he did as well. His cum painted your walls white.

He then slid out of you with heavy breaths, he put his boxers back on and climbed back into the front seat.

“This isn’t exactly how I imagined us having sex.” He said, looking back at you, still laying down on the seat.

“Oh so you imagined it?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. You sat up and put your clothes back on, tossing him his shirt and pants.

You rolled your eyes. “Weirdo.”

“So, wanna go home?” He asked you.

You giggled “Yeah.”

[lokisgoodgirl]

Darkest Night, Brightest Day: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]

The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (6) One tiny bed, one tiny brain cell, one breakthrough and one big rock. Warnings: Minors DNI. One bed. Smuttish. Sexual tension. Humour. Sneaky Satchels. Language. Pining. Mild Angst. (w/c 6.2k) Recommended Folklore Track: My Tears Richochet

You held your breath, staring at the wall as Loki lowered himself beside you in the moon-cut darkness.

Lifting, you pushed your pillow further to the side. He moaned gently as his head met the cushion he had brought from the floor with a soft thump. In the single bed, there could only have been an inch between your bodies.

Your eyes were wide open, focusing on a single spot on the wall. The warmth of his skin, a slight brush of his cotton-clad calf against your bare one setting your nerves alight. He lifted his head, raking his hair back as he always did before lying back on the pillow with a sigh. “Comfortable?” he whispered.

You both knew the answer to that one. “Sure,” you whispered back.

Through the wall, the suspicious muted moans of pleasure continued.

A bedspring creaked. “I’m sure it’s not what you think,” Loki murmured. “What you think, you mean.” you hissed playfully. “I can’t believe your brother has corrupted Steve!?” Loki’s abs pulsed intermittently against your back as he laughed, trying to be silent. “At least he aimed high with his first time,” you whispered to the wall. Loki’s snort of restrained laughter blew against your neck. “Aimed high? Agent, I think you vastly overestimate my brother’s prowess.” You giggled against the pillow, and without meaning to, sort of, you inched back closer to Loki’s stomach. But not touching. You made sure of that. “At least they have protection, thanks to you-” you muttered with mock-stoicism. There was a longer pause, this time. The heat from his body nestled close. Infuriatingly close. “You know, I am not sure I wish to take credit for that,” he said quietly. It sounded serious, but you could tell he was smiling.

He shifted. You heard the soles of his feet thrum against the metal bed-frame. The sides of the conjured blanket draped down each side of the bed, mattress creaking beneath his hip.

A dip made you roll back further against him.

“Sorry,” he murmured as your shoulders touched his chest, “collateral damage.” “It’s fine,” you said, as casually as you could muster. “It’s...nice.”

The sharp intake of breath which sucked in his stomach made you clench. Seconds ticked by as you watched shadows dance the wall. A weave of ivy hung over Loki’s window, its outline waving against moonlight.

“I’m sorry I kissed you yesterday,” you whispered. But you weren’t sure why. It seemed necessary, somehow. “Consider it forgotten,” Loki hummed politely. He started to speak again, and then stopped. You ceased breathing as he shuffled closer. You wondered if he meant to. But still, his stomach didn’t touch your back.

“I’m sorry for what I did our second night here,” he murmured unexpectedly. “It was rude, and entirely thoughtless for me to turn up in your door in that regrettable state. I don’t know what possessed me-” “Consider it forgotten,” you repeated staunchly back to him. There was silence. What did you expect him to say, you chided as your stomach dropped; grasping the snug blanket draped over you. You rubbed the pelt between your fingertips nervously.

You knew exactly what you expected him to say.

‘I’m not sorry,’ he would have purred licentiously in your ear. ‘I haven’t stopped thinking about that kiss. It was all I could do in the supermarket not to finish what you started-’

And then, he would have rolled you towards him with the firmest intent. The smoulder in his eyes burning through any hint, any inkling that this was a bad idea. His knuckles would have trailed down your neck, between your breasts; his fingers slipping down to the hot mess between your legs.

‘Oh darling,’ he would simper as curls fell sluttishly around his jaw, fingers slipping with ease inside you. ‘I’ve missed you so.’

“Did you ever love me, Loki?”

For a second, you couldn’t believe you’d actually said it.

The moments that you waited for Loki to give any sign that he’d heard you were the longest in living memory.

You bit your lip, grimacing as he shuffled back, just an inch. But the loss of his skin so close to yours made your heart sink. It was cold again. “Yes, I did.” he said curtly.

There was a hint of reproach in his voice, but it was sincere. Your heart dropped at the past tense as he cleared his throat quietly. A fidget of his fingers on the blanket rustled as he considered his next words.

“Did you?” he asked, the words running together. “Love, me?” “Yes,” you murmured without pause. The blanket’s fur twirled between your thumb and forefinger, twisted to a point. The question that had always lingered in your mind came to the forefront in crisp clarity. What the hell, you thought bitterly. Might as well get some answers. You took a deep breath.

“I always wondered, after you said...‘gods don’t love like we do’ and then went all quiet. You never told me what you meant, I thought maybe...because I’m not one of you-” the thought lingered in the air. “I don’t know…” you trailed off.

Each shallow breath was heavy. “Deeper,” Loki’s quiet whisper breathed against your back.

Your teeth chattered. It was real this time. “H-huh?” you shivered. In the silence, Loki’s arm slid over your blanketed shoulders. The flat of his stomach finally met your spine, the familiar rippled surface warmer than a hot bath on a winter night. You sank into the feeling as he drew you close and squeezed. Just once. “We love deeper.” he mumbled nervously. It hung in the air, his heartbeat thumping against your lungs. “Our capacity for depth is not limited to strength, or knowledge, but feeling.” “Why wouldn’t you just tell me that?” you snipped, harder than you had intended. “I was embarrassed. It made me feel-” Loki paused. You held your breath, eyes darting around the sliver of moonlight cast on the wall before settling on the ivy’s shadow.

“Weak?” you whispered softly. “Weak.” he replied.

There was silence.

Rain had begun to beat against the window. The sheet against your bodies rustled. “My brother has shown me some of the error of my ways,” Loki said quietly. “And you, of course.” His fingertip brushed absent-mindedly over the blanket covering your chest. “I am only sorry you had to suffer my worst qualities. You deserved better. Perhaps next time I will be a better...man.” You could feel the effort it took to withhold the alternative.

As his words sank in, your stomach twisted. “Next time?” you murmured earnestly.

“If I am lucky enough to find love again, I hope to deserve it. Appreciate it, not squander it.” Loki said.

With frightening clarity, you realised the idea of Loki with anyone but you was a dagger to the heart. Loki felt you bristle in his tentative hold.

Although he thought he had been doing rather well, something now made him think he’d said the wrong thing.

It had taken all his not inconsiderable strength to keep the words in. He had been honest to a point. Perhaps too honest for his liking. And, so it seemed, yours.

Sheathed desire bubbled between his thighs. Ignored. He had been doing well, he repeated to himself as he felt a quiet sigh escape you. One he was not meant to hear, he was sure. Loki knew that sex was not what you wanted. Not really. One night of mind-numbing passion on this abysmal bed would not go any way to mending the pain he had caused. It would hurt you. The thought made him feel ill. Loki was rather proud of himself at the realisation, but gods, how he wanted you.

Your quiet breaths were a melody in the darkness, the strangeness of this situation made stranger by its aching familiarity.

He re-positioned his head, focusing on the space between your shoulder-blades. The points shifted beneath his t-shirt you wore, hair pooled messily on the pillow. Had you swept it up in that way to expose the curve of your neck to him on purpose? Loki frowned, trying to quieten the thought.

He wanted to crash to your skin with the force of his kisses. Wet, pure, longing. To roll you to your back with a demure sigh from your lips. Loose himself in the scent of you, the earthy sweetness of your heat. He wanted to tell you that he was sorry, that he was wrong, that he would try.

But words were not what was needed. He knew that now. Words had lost him your love. He needed to show you he could change.

But still, Loki allowed himself to to tease the t-shirt up your waist in the safety of his mind, feel your perfect breasts spill into his waiting palms as your legs wound around his hips.

Just for a moment.

He imagined you would pull him to your open mouth, muttering ambrosial words of wistful devotion as your hand searched into the waistband of his pyjama pants. Fingers would wind anxiously around his straining cock, sinking into old rhythms before he sank himself inside your beautiful cunt with a ragged gasp of your name-

Norns, no. Despite furtive efforts, Loki felt himself hardening beneath the silky cotton of his pyjamas. He cleared his throat, screwing his eyes shut, trying to think unsexy thoughts.

Steve Rogers in lingerie, he summoned.

Regrettably, the image was not as tragic as he had hoped. Cursing silently, he scooted away from the curve of your back. The loss of your touch was a rip. He felt you stiffen. Biting his lip, he considered his options. They were few. “I have something to confess, Agent I ” The words stumbled. “You’re getting aroused?” you questioned quietly. If Loki didn’t know better, he would think it was coy. He swallowed, fighting every urge simmering beneath his skin to gather you in his arms and ravage you in a mess of filthy groans and wet kisses. “Regrettably, yes.” he replied solemnly. There was a low giggle. “I would be insulted if you weren’t.” you added quietly. Loki found his hand slipping from its hold around your shoulders and beneath the sheets. “Excuse me while I just-” he muttered, adjusting his cock so it sat against the waistband of his pyjamas. The small touch was electric. Fingers lingered on a pulsing vein, dragging slowly across the delicate skin. Straight up, nestled tightly to elastic; thick and ready to fill her. No, Loki grit. Your hair brushed his forehead as you raised your head from the pillow, craning behind you to meet his eyes.

“Be closer,” you said softly in the darkness. Moonlight crackled in your irises, starlit perfection sent to test the very limits of his endurance. Loki felt his brows slant.

Cautiously his fingers grazed the curve of your waist. The pads of his digits sank against the flesh, velvet sand.Safe. “Are you sure?” he whispered. His breath hitched as you pressed back into him, his chin grazing the back of your head. He inhaled deeply, noting the smallest push of your ass into his crotch. “I’m cold,” was all you said. A small smile pressed against his cheeks, rustling your hair. He wondered if you could feel it. You always used to be so attuned to him. “We can’t have that,” he hummed resolutely in response. Loki felt you inhale sharply, his fingers sinking deeper into your skin. He released them, beginning to graze achingly slowly down the curve of your waist. Closing his eyes, he lingered every inch of its route down your ribs before meeting the dip.

The ascent was tortuous, the slight tremble of your muscles as his digits reached the peak. Loki didn’t think you were breathing.

His fingers ghosted over your hip, tips dancing circles against the skin so light they were almost invisible.

Your whole body shivered. “We’re not having sex,” you trembled unconvincingly.

Loki nodded, dragging his nose against the muss of your hair. “Absolutely,” he replied, holding in a groan. His cock was pulsing, nestled in the middle of your ass. He could feel the drag of your panties, every beat of his lust thrumming against thin pyjama pants. God, it was torture. And it was Valhalla. Your cheeks tensed against his throbbing manhood, a light push of your hips backwards making him release a whimpering sigh. He could see your fingertips grasp against the bed’s edge as his own trailed lazily over the curve of your ass beneath the sheets, down the side of your thigh, catching fine hair against his feather-light touch. Each breath felt like it shook your whole body as you tried to stay as still as possible. Your eyes were closed, memorising every grace of Loki’s long fingers as they danced across your skin in wisping patterns. Runes. The soft flesh sizzled, tickling zinging of nerve endings coming ablaze beneath his impossibly cautious touch. It was the most turned on you had been in your entire life.

His breaths were deep and quiet, the press and release of his solid chest against your back making wetness slide between your legs. You were desperate for him, fallen and utterly gone to anything but him.

And yet, as his martyred cock throbbed against your lower back – you conceded that this was no longer the Loki you had known.

Are you testing him, you thought. The uncomfortable realisation came like a bolt of lightening, timed with another miniscule roll of your hips. Loki released a ragged gasp.

The warm air flooded your ear. It filled your mind with memories of him fucking you gently over the edge in the Tower, the dirty moans and wandering hands while he rocked himself inside your pussy, emptying all he had to give.

You conceded that testing him would be beyond you right now. The urge to slip your hand between your bodies, curl your fingers around that perfect cock and set him alight with the power you held. If a girl finds herself in bed with Loki Laufeyson, you mused as you arched your back, pressing firm against the hard length pulsing against the t-shirt, some things are inevitable.

“Careful, Agent” Loki warned. There was a tremor in his voice you hadn’t heard before. “You might give me the wrong idea.”

“Is it wrong?” you said. Your bodies halted, words hanging in the air above your heads, “I don’t know-” he whispered.

Loki thrust gently. The smooth cotton of his pyjama pants did nothing to hide the ferocious power of the flesh which lay beneath. His length slid against your panties, pressing into the curve of your ass, the little knot of his ties catching on your t-shirt. You would bet good money there was a wet spot.

“Oh,” he moaned gently. It was the sweetest sound you had ever heard. “You’re keeping me warm,” you panted earnestly, as Loki’s fingers began to trail back up your thigh. Firmer, this time. “You’re keeping me..a-uh...warm.” The clenching was methodical now. Each tense of your thighs brought blood rushing to a pussy, plump and wet and mad for his touch. Loki was barely moving, every wave of his hips as they rolled against your ass achingly slow. His restrained, polite pants in your ear were electric. Like a public school virgin. The careful drag of his veined cock caught on the t-shirt you wore. His fingertips dug into your hip suddenly, a judder making Loki’s leg shake against yours. “If we don’t -s-stop, I’m going to...uh, c-cum,” he choked apologetically, accompanied by another devastatingly glacial thrust. “Don’t-” you replied, tapering to a small moan. “Don’t?” he gasped, as you craned behind to look into his eyes. His face was aglow in shards of moonlight, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow. That beautiful stare smouldered with an unplaceable intensity – his breathing shallow. Concern was awash on his features, wet lips parted as he looked at your with unbearable submission. “Don’t stop.”

There were no more words between you as Loki’s body curled to yours, hand shaking with the effort to keep his light touch steady.

His fingers twitched as he resisted the urge to pull you back against him, pull down the pyjama pants and sink you onto his cock. Pull aside your panties and touch you. How you wished he fucking would. The slow, trepidatious roll of his hips continued; each quiet gasp from his lips a melody. With a low groan, his stomach clenched against your back. You released a pant of his name, turning to see a profile you thought you’d never see again.

The god’s face was twisted in pained pleasure, deep lines carved into the expanse of his brow, damp curls winding across the skin. His lips were parted, eyes screwed shut and neck taut as he emptied himself against your back. The spurt of his cum slapped against your skin. He clenched to you, his legs twitching and thrashing against the tight bedsheets.

Loki’s thick tip had come free from its prison, the slick skin grazing your spine. Slow, staggered exhales of desire breezed your ear as he came undone; the thick roll of his seed beneath the t-shirt making it tingle.

Breathy melodies of of his low groans ebbed and silence fell.

Only the tapping of the ivy against the window rustled gently.

“There is something I must say to you,” Loki murmured in the darkness, his spent voice muffled by the mess of your hair. A cool wisp of magic between your bodies hummed. Your heart dropped, realising it signalled the removal of any remnants of...whatever this was. “But first I must understand it, you see.” Loki whispered. “It hasn’t quite...fallen into place.” He paused, palm sliding under the pillow below your cheek. He sighed quietly. You could hear the tiredness in his voice. “I cannot place it. Like a dream, twisting out of reach. A wisp of smoke. Too much has happened, too much-” he muttered. “Just be here, with me. Just for tonight.” you cut sadly, hoping it would quiet him. Loki squeezed the arm holding around your chest. His lips grazed your shoulder, hovering on the precipice. He released a breath he’d been holding against your skin. It sounded like a sigh, and perhaps it was.

“I know that cannot expect to cross the ocean between us.” Loki murmured so quietly you were surprised you heard it.

It sounded like a prayer. “Not an ocean,” you whispered, slurred by the sudden descent of sleep. Self-preservation you were glad of, at last.

Loki inhaled quietly as you continued, shuffling back against his crotch. Muscle memory. “-lake, maybe.” You hoped he could feel the quiet smile that twitched your cheek beneath his thumb. “A lake,” Loki repeated; feeling you drift into dreams in his hold. He hoped you were dreaming of him.

When Loki saw the seconds hand tick past seven am, he slipped cautiously from the bed. It had been a long night.

He pulled on the first thing he could find, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He grimaced, immediately swapping the beige jumper for a slightly less ghastly beige jumper.

Damn that Rogers, he mulled for the hundredth time this week before he cast a last lingering glance at you curled in his bed. Your hand hung off the side, your face tipped up, snoring gently. Loki smiled.

The door closed softly behind him, glancing to the still-closed entrance to his brother and Rogers room. What happened last night, he hoped, would remain a mystery. Loki picked his way down the stairs, careful of creaks. He needed time to think. To marinate. To review the events of last night, to think on the boulder which blocked his understanding. If he could only match the puzzle pieces which taunted him.

He had slept only in snatches, waking to every breathy moan from your lips and sleep-drunk squirm. Rather pleased with himself that he had navigated the rudimentary alert system of the stairs, he turned into the kitchen with a start. “Norns, brother” Loki gasped, gripping the door-frame.

Thor sat upright at the kitchen table, a mug of tea cupped between his meaty hands and a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. Loki tried to ignore him as his brother’s eyes followed his journey across the room. He plopped a teabag in the mug with the yellow bear, the sound of pouring from the kettle deafening in the eerie silence. Thor’s stare burned into the back of his head as he poured the milk.

I’ll bet that buffoon is still smiling, he thought. Loki stirred, tapping the side of the mug twice with the dulled spoon before placing it carefully down. He turned, unsurprised that his deduction had been correct. Thor still sat, smiling, watching, looking pleased with himself as his brother manoeuvred into the seat opposite him. “Sleep well?” Loki asked. “Not really,” Thor said with uncharacteristic cheer for this time in the morning. The smile didn’t falter. “You?”

“Not really,” Loki replied abruptly. They eyed each other. Loki didn’t like when his brother smiled like this. It almost always meant that he thought he’d gotten the better of him. Rarely, however, was he correct. “We didn’t have sex, if that was your plan.” Loki sniffed, picking up a buttered crumpet from the plate in between Thor’s elbows. He took a bite. “Right.” Thor said conspiratorially. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about, brother.” There was a pause. Thor sipped his tea, placing it down carefully before resting his chin in his palm. He blinked several times. “Did you...hear, anything, perchance?” “Not a thing” Loki lied. “Liar.” Thor smirked.

Loki adjusted his feet under the table, socks squeaking against the linoleum. “Where’s your newly minted ‘lover’, anyway then?” he snipped, running a fingertip around the mug lip.

He looked up, jaw set and cheekbones sharpened. “Captain Rogers,” he husked for emphasis, narrowing his eyes. His chin tilted, a silent ooo cutting the air between them.“I didn’t think he was your type,” Loki sneered, studying his brother’s face for tells. Thor shrugged, resting back in the chair which gave a malevolent creak. “People change, remember Loki?” Something didn’t add up.

“What was it then?” Loki snipped, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. “A foot-rub? A back massage? You can’t expect me to believe-” “Oh, brother.” Thor rumbled sagely, shaking his head. “So many questions. And yet…” He made a bursting gesture with his fingertips, milking the sparkles, before tapping the side of his nose.

Loki rolled his eyes.

“Is it time to go home yet?” he muttered into his tea.

If you didn’t know what had happened last night, you might have been forgiven for assuming everything seemed normal. There was the usual morning buzz in the cottage kitchen which you had become accustomed to. The smell of eggs and bacon had lured you from your morning cocoon, albeit after you had taken five long minutes to remind yourself what had actually happened in the darkness. Was it a dream? No. If it was, Loki would have fucked you senseless as you gripped the wrought-iron bedframe. But all the evidence that remained was a dried dark patch on the back of his t-shirt. Missed a bit Loki, you mused as you let it fall to the side with a sigh. Thankfully you still had the trousers you wore last night. For some reason, you decided to keep his t-shirt on. It was better quality than yours, you surmised, cum-stain or no cum-stain. Loki won’t mind, you thought optimistically as you tucked it in. He might like it.

Turning into the kitchen, you took a moment to absorb the tableau. Thor and Steve stood at the kitchen sink; Steve washing, Thor drying. They both wore devious smiles, meeting each others eyes nervously as each dish passed between them.

The captain noticed you in the doorway. “Good Morning, Agent” he said with a quiet nod. You returned it. “Morning, Agent” Thor piped, running the red chequered cloth through his fingers with a grin. “Quite the pair, aren’t they?” Loki drawled sarcastically.

He nudged a plate of food dismissively in your direction. You sat opposite him, frowning. He was fixated on the other men, analysing eyes mapping each unspoken word between them like a rifle’s scope. As the seconds passed, it became more unlikely you would be receiving the welcome you’d hoped. The Loki you remembered seemed to have re-appeared. Maybe all he needed was a sentimental dry-hump, you raged silently as you quickly ate a few bites. Running sweaty palms down your trousers, you stood. “Ready in ten minutes okay? Tent packs and all the other usual...stuff.”

All eyes in the kitchen fell on you. Loki looked up appraisingly through a fan of dark lashes, the heaviness of his stare making your stomach drop.

“Ten minutes,” you repeated coldly. ‘What was that?!’ you heard Steve hiss as you made your way up the stairs. ‘What was what?’ you heard Loki snap in response.

The hum of bitchy conversation continued as white noise.

You stood on the landing at the doorway to your decimated room with tears pricking your eyes, realising you had nowhere to go.

Loki watched you stride ahead, studying a superfluous map in your hands. You knew where you were taking them, it was just for show. But Loki could understand why you wanted to avoid conversation. Something was bubbling uncomfortably beneath the surface of his skin. Shifting beneath it like ants, like wet flour straining to exit a sieve. This morning he had clung to the mystery of his brother’s intentions as a mortal would to a life-raft. Avoiding something. But what? It moved whenever he tried to focus. And in the meantime, he’d hurt you again somehow. He’d seen it.

He grit his teeth, nerves flaming at the incessant wittering of hushed conversation behind him. “Will you both desist for one moment?” he growled, casting a scathing look back at his brother and Rogers. “We’re just talking,” Steve snipped in response. “Maybe you should try it with you-know-who.” Loki rolled his eyes. “Please don’t tell me my brother has woven you into his hair-brained charade, Rogers.” Steve chuckled, rubbing his chin. He paced several steps towards the god, eyes meeting before leaning forward to Loki’s ear. “Doesn’t seem so hair-brained to me,” he whispered covertly. “Maybe you should learn to relax a bit.”

Loki pulled away with a horrified frown as Steve’s smug smile widened. “You are telling me to-” The captain cast a glance to your disappearing figure further up the path. “Consider last night payback for Colombia,” he said, cutting in with a wink and slapping Loki’s shoulder before moving down the path at a jog. Loki folded his arms, watching Steve go as Thor sidled sheepishly beside him. “I don’t know what you see in him,” Loki said abruptly. “I don’t like him like this.”

Thor slid his arm over his brother’s shoulder, pulling Loki’s head beneath his chin. His fist mussed the top of his hair. “Get off,” Loki chided, pushing him away and smoothing his parting. “Come, brother” Thor said, his mirth-filled lilt making Loki want to trip him. “Tents require our erection.”

Autumn foliage set the lake view from the hillside aflame.

All around you was the rustle of wind against rock, the low calls of geese in the distance. The blondes had already laid their groundsheet and made a valiant effort at pitching the tent before Thor became trapped inside. You and Loki made headway with your own effort. The site you’d picked was challenging, as intended. But the chill that had descended over Loki made it more so. “Can we be reasonable about this?” you said quietly, eyeing Steve trying to guide Thor to the tent’s exit before looking back to him. Loki released the tent mechanism. It unfurled. “Just because I used to be your girlfriend doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me-”

“-You were never my girlfriend,” Loki snapped, lowering to secure the first loop. “You were my consort.” You stared incredulously while Loki’s eyes narrowed. “Commoners have ‘girlfriends’. Royalty have consorts.” he explained.

‘Did Laufeyson just call her a prostitute?!’ ‘No, Rogers. You’re thinking of escort. Or concubine.’ Thor paused. ‘We really should call it something else, you know…’ They looked up innocently to you and Loki staring at them. Both sat cross legged with the half-collapsed tent slopping to the side. “Don’t mind us,” Rogers drawled sarcastically, waving a hand before leaning it behind him. “We’re just having a conversation, same as you.”

He was very sassy today.

You turned back to Loki, folding your arms. “I know what you’re doing,” you snapped wryly. “You’re trying to up the dick-o-meter again because you were vulnerable with me. It’s not necessary, just forget it-”

Thor released an ill-timed here here. “Shut up, Thor-” “Oh am I?” Loki drawled, rolling his eyes. “Well, many thanks for your analysis, Agent. Now if you could just get back to your area of expertise-” he held up the tent-poles, tipping them towards you expectantly.

You swiped them, glaring as you took a deep breath.

“You’re going to have to move your tent about three feet to the left, guys,” you said to Thor and Steve while not breaking eye contact with your ex. “That boulder is an obstruction for the pole area at the side.” “Nonsense,” Thor muttered. He tugged off his bobble hat and unzipped his puffer jacket. Beneath, his chest was exposed. Steve’s eyes widened as Thor bent over to pick up the boulder with ease. There was a gasp from the right. The four of you snapped towards the noise. A man’s head and shoulders had become visible above the rocky plateau of the hillside. Silence fell as the man scrambled over the ridge; patting himself down as he observed Thor’s elevated boulder with amazement. Steve’s attention floundered back to the tent-poles, wiggling one against the ground. You looked pleadingly to Loki, but he was nowhere to be seen. Oh no, you thought.

“Good morrow, fellow nature enthusiast.” Somehow Thor’s attempt to sound like anyone but himself was the most Thor thing you had ever heard.

The man stopped in his tracks, squinting at the blonde casually holding a boulder. A breeze whipped Thor’s hair, billowing like spun gold around his shoulders. The puffer jacket blew wider, his glistening chest muscles reflecting the low autumnal sun. “Aren’t you?” “No. Definatley not.” Thor released a strained laugh, awkwardly fumbling for a hood that wasn’t there with one hand. In the other, the boulder wobbled. He patted his own back, spinning in a circle and knocking into Steve still looking busy with the tent.

“Watch it-” the captain hissed as the rock fell with a crump to the ground. It began to roll, and when Rogers looked up, the doe-eyed concern in his eyes couldn’t have been closer to his Avengers publicity shot if he’d tried.

The man looked between Thor and Steve with sudden panic – catching you out the corner of his eye. He covered his mouth, pointing as you began to pace towards him.

“Oh my god, oh my god” the man muttered, looking frantically at the sky. “Fuck, are there aliens? Am I gonna die? Is this ground zero?” “Hello friend,” Loki purred, appearing out of nowhere behind the hiker.

One hand slid over the bemused mortal’s shoulders while the other pushed the low hood from his face, uncovering that famously wolfish smile. The man’s catatonic stare became even wider as his gaze tracked from Loki’s chest to his eyes. He let out a girlish yelp.

“You’re-!” With one well-placed squeeze of Loki’s fingers at the top of his spine, the man fell with a graceless thump to the ground. “Loki,” Thor chided. Loki grimaced apologetically. “He went down too quickly, it was my intent to catch him.”

The four of them stepped closer, huddling around the unconscious body on the hillside. “He was going to blow us,” Steve said solemnly, hands on his hips. “It was for the best, thank you Laufeyson.” “You’re welcome?” Loki replied, smirking. He and Thor exchanged a knowing grin as you got on your hands and knees, working towards the passed out bystander.

You felt the man’s pulse, putting him in the recovery position and fishing in your rucksack for a blanket. “Well we can’t just leave him here,” you hissed, looking further down the hill. “What if he was with someone?!” “We’ll tell them he fell over,” Loki chirped. “Mortals fall over all the time.” Thor hummed sagely. “Tis’ true.”

He caught the menacing stare you threw him. “Well it is!” he added, offering a brisk nod to his brother in solidarity. You scrunched his discarded bobble hat in a ball and threw it at his face. “Put this on,” you spat – “you almost caused this guy serious damage with your stupidity. Just do what your told for once.” Thor’s face crumpled. He tugged on the hat, making sure all of his hair was tucked in. You rifled through the man’s pockets, finding a wallet. “Colin Robertson,” you hummed quietly. “What a boring name,” Loki piped. Thor elbowed him in the ribs, shaking his head. “We can’t leave him here, we need mountain rescue” you said as you stood.

The men looked between each other. “Heck no,” Steve gasped. “I’ll be darned if the Avengers have to enlist mountain-heckin’-rescue.” “But Steve, we’re not the Avengers.” you cut with air quotes. Steve’s mouth hardened. “Right.”

Loki sighed, rocking on his heels. “What if we transport the body, and dispatch him somewhere else?” “Kill him?!” “No not kill him, just...deposit him in a more salubrious location for our purposes.”

Thor frowned, resting a thumb beneath his chin. “How many pints of ale does it require to render a mortal man unconscious?”

“Enough!” you yelled. The three of them fell quiet. “One of you pick him up, one of you scout.” Thor and Steve looked at Loki. “Why must I carry him?” “You discombobulated him.” Steve said matter-of-factly. “Oh I see.” he snarled. Blood began to thunder in his ears. “And as recompense for my quick actions which heroically concealed your idiotic field trip to this blasted place, I must carry him like the humble pack-horse I am. Is that it?” Steve arched a brow. Loki’s vision blurred. He raked his hair, chuckling manically to the ground. The air suddenly felt electric.

“I see it now-” he said abruptly. Loki began pacing back and forth, two steps of his long legs towards Colin before he’d turn on his heel.

There was a crazed look in his eyes, his cheekbones popping with every work of his jaw. The open Barbour swung around his thighs, his cheeks flushed. His pupils were wide, dark curls falling over his brow like the sexiest mad professor you’d ever seen. “What do you-” “I see it now, I see it-” he repeated in velvet whispers, stopping. He held out his palms, brows peaking as he looked at them with fascination.

“It’s fallen into place,” he whispered. “Loki, what-” His eyes rose to meet yours, hard features softening under your worried stare. Loki let out another strained chuckle, brows knitting. “Why I’m afraid to be loved,” he said quietly.

Out the corner of your eye, you saw the blondes cover their mouths with a synchronised gasp.

Thor gripped Steve’s shoulder, his eyes beginning to water. They stared. Loki began to pace again, raking his hair away from his face. His lips kept parting and closing, trying to catch the thoughts buzzing in his mind like wasps. “Earthquakes in this realm, they have...aftershocks. Yes?” he stammered, stopping to look between the three of you.

“I struggled to place why the memories of our time at the cabin-with-no-place affected me so, brother-” he gazed at Thor, frowning. “But now I see it was the last time I felt...content. Safe. With no expectation or consequence. Nothing had yet been taken from me,” he murmured. Your heart skipped a beat, twisting and begging for you to run to him. His eyes were manic, voice trembling with wild curls playing against the wind. “No,” he whispered to himself; “that’s not true. I was content with…” he looked up at you. Thor and Steve glanced at each other with wide eyes, then back to Loki. Loki sighed. “Ever since our inaugurations, brother, I have been displaced. My anger, my jealousy, the void, the mind stone...my imprisonment, the deaths-” He turned away, looking out over the steep drop to the lake below.

“When I came to this realm, I was always waiting for another earthquake. Fighting against another aftershock, ready to shake my world apart once more. And when none came…” he trailed off. You could hear the thickness of his voice as he held back tears. “I created them.” It was unbearable. You walked forward, approaching like a horse you were trying not to spook. Fingers brushed the arm of his waxed jacket, urging him to turn. He spun slowly, looking at your hand resting on his arm, your eyes wide and worried. “I’m sorry,” he choked quietly. His eyes were swimming. And yours were, too.

“I was afraid.” he gasped, staggered. “Afraid of the rug being swept beneath my feet as it has so many times. Without my powers, my lineage, my supposed impenetrability...I thought I would be lacking. That you would think me lacking, as all else have.” He inhaled sharply, turning his face once more to the lake.

You heard Thor protest quietly at the last statement, thankfully cut short by a quick yank of the hat over his eyes by Steve. “It was safer to anticipate the ending. Distance myself. Harden myself with the tools which have helped me survive, become who I thought I was supposed to be-” Your hand slid up Loki’s cheek, combing past his temple.

“But I remember now, that is not who I truly am.” he whispered as a quiet tear squeezed from his outer lashes. “I realise, now, that is not who I want to be.” “And who do you want to be, Loki?” you murmured, shallow breaths making your chest rise and fall at alarming speed. He pressed his forehead against yours, warm breath ghosting your lips. “I want to be-” “-I hate to be a bellyache, but our friend is stirring,” Steve chirped nervously. You heard the grind of Loki’s teeth before his light touch on your forearms lessened. “Right,” Loki said, straightening. He smoothed wild hair behind his ears, popping the collar of his jacket. At some point, Thor had propped Colin against a rock. His head was lolling, mouth hanging open. But his fingers twitched.

There was a determination in Loki’s eyes. Suddenly, he seemed lighter. His hand slipped down your arm, toying with your fingers. “Shall we continue this later?” he whispered with a nervous smile. You nodded, returning it. Emboldened, Loki strode over to the limp mortal, catching him as he began to slide sideways down the rock. He lifted him with ease, propping him over his shoulders. “I can carry him, Loki-” Steve said apologetically, edging closer despite Thor’s grasp of his arm. “It’s quite alright,” Loki said, adjusting his grip around the back of the man’s thighs. He looked between the two dunces, smiling.

Thor's face fell.

“It will give the two of you time to work out one of those cunning plans you have such affinity for," Loki said.

Chapter Seven: Harvest - (final)

Tags @lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @brittbax @smolvenger @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @muddyorbs @buttercupcookies-blog @megschaef98

[grxndprix]

𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐚.

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 — 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦! 𝘮𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘮𝘪 𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘰 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘵𝘸 — 𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘦/𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘢, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵

It’s an odd thing, she realized. Practically lunacy. Rapt, her hand traced the outline of her collarbone, eyes following the motion in the mirror. Maybe she hoped for a lag in the reflection. This was a trick mirror, it had to be. 

The muted olive walls of the bathroom closed in on her. Dim lighting, an orange-ish tint to the bulbs. Far too saturated, suffocating, she was choking herself out as thoughts swarmed around her mind. Lips parting in a quiet denial of the situation, she almost missed how her whole body was trembling.

[name] ran fingers through her hair in an effort to ground herself. Purple bruises and red bitemarks littered across her neck and collar, she flinched at the memory that came with them. She didn’t wear concealer, so she wouldn’t have any in her purse. Imperfections of her face bubbled up, but it wasn’t enough to rip her attention away from the marks.

Jujutsu High was supposed to be a safe haven. It was supposed to be somewhere she could focus on strengthening her skills, somewhere she could escape her ignorant and awful family — But tragedy tends to follow those who combat it the most. 

A shaky breath, and [name] crumbled to the floor in a heap. She could hardly breathe, scratching at her skin, rubbing furiously at her body as her cries echoed in cracked whispers, “God, please get it off— Get his touch off— I-I can’t—” She hiccupped, tears rapid in their descent down her face. 

Her knees ached from the coldness of the tiled floor, bathtub in her peripheral suddenly looking more like a coffin than anything else. She wondered, for a moment, — If she filled the tub with water and let the crystal substance fill her lungs, would she feel clean?

Bring her to the forest, dump her body on the grass. Nature will be gentler than any man. 

Megumi Fushiguro wasn’t a bad man. That’s what [name] believed. She saw his stoicism as gentleness to the world. She saw his silence as peace. And, of course, she saw his potential as a sorcerer. She was the one who brought it to his attention, just before Gojo even got the idea to talk to him.

The girl had approached him just before he was to close his room’s door for the night. 

[name] smiled softly, eyes not meeting his as she tried to step out of her comfort zone. “I just think you have a lot of amazing things you’d be able to do! You can bring out your potential, I just— I think you can pull it out of yourself, hon’, I really do…” She dared a glance up into his eyes, suppressing a wince when he had been looking at her the whole time. “If that makes sense, of course! Sorry, I don’t know why I—”

She was cut off by a quiet laugh. It wasn’t harsh or biting, not even mocking — It was a genuine, soft laugh. Finally turning to look at him properly, her heart almost fluttered. He was smiling, eyes crinkling upward at the notion. Despite her hesitation, he looked so… happy. He was shining, honestly. 

“ Thanks, [name]. I, ah, needed that.” He ran a hand through his fluffy raven locks, gunmetal hues resting on her face. Unmoving. His cheeks were dusted a light pink. She internally breathed a sigh of relief, laughing with him. Her own smile was made even brighter than before, cheeks starting to hurt. 

Megumi almost brought his hand up to affectionately ruffle her hair, but stopped himself. He could hold on for a bit longer, he could— He observed the crinkle in her eyes, the bags under them, the moles, the light in her pupils, and suddenly, he recognized life as short. 

[name] had to depart, she decided with a glance at her phone. She didn’t want to ruin the moment, but she’d promised Itadori a hangout. She was about to wave goodbye, the words settling on her tongue— If not for his hand shooting up, grabbing her wrist before she could even try to pull back. 

The countdown started. Megumi liked to believe he was great at keeping all of his true thoughts and feeling under wraps. 

[name] didn’t flinch. Why would she? She’d gotten comfortable with Megumi, there was no reason for her to— 

Oh.

His eyes had darkened. She didn’t think it had been possible, really, but all the memories of her family had come rushing back. A tidal wave of sin, the sudden recession of an ocean. She looked at their intertwined hands, then back up at his face. Something in the air had shifted. 

The girl gave a cautious tug at her wrist, eyes no longer possessing the strength of contact with his. “Ah, I gotta go hon’—, Promised Yuuji I’d hang out with him.” She experimentally tugged again, but to no avail. Her lips turned the slightest bit downward.

Perhaps the scariest part was Megumi’s silence. The way his eyes fell dull, completely unlike the smile on his face just moments before. Was his previous grin sardonic? Did she not catch the undertone? His grip on [name]’s wrist only tightened a considerable amount, brows creasing together in a look that mirrored— What, betrayal? Annoyance? Was she being annoying for trying to leave?

“...Megumi?” Cautious. She realized her tone was cautious. What changed? Just a few minutes ago she felt completely comfortable with him, she was at peace and felt that he was someone she could trust, but now—

She didn’t get the chance to respond. The quiet of the hallway sank in quickly as he yanked her feeble frame inside. A yelp, but it reached no one as the door slammed shut. 

[name] turned to Megumi, eyes wide and pupils just shaking with fear. Silence, as it was, spoke fucking volumes. She hadn’t noticed it before, the way his gunmetal blue eyes dragged along her body, sizing her up like lamb to the slaughter. 

He took a step forward, dorm floor creaking with the notion. She took one back. It took a second, but her flight instinct kicked in. Turning on her heel, [name] went for a mad dash for the backdoor. It led to his balcony, so maybe if she jumped and ran for Yuuji, or Gojo Sensei, or Nobara— 

A single hand caught on her hair and pulled. A wounded whimper left the girl’s throat, body crashing right back into the ravenette’s. She struggled as much as possible, but it didn’t do much when he just got her right up against the nearest wall. 

Those gunmetal eyes carried the embers of hell, she thought. Despite her weak whines and cries, the devil’s whispers painted fluttering kisses to cloud any sane thought she hoped had burrowed into Megumi’s mind.

He pinned her wrists above her head, frame completely devouring hers as he dove in for a kiss. She squirmed under him, trying to turn her head, but one of his hands only held her chin in place. This was her worst nightmare turned ten times more malicious. 

His hands roamed her body with the desire of Eros, the pursuit of Persephone from Hades, the longing of Pothos — A man possessed by tragedy. She had to be his lyre, the instrument he used and used and used and used—

[name] cried out as his teeth sank into the soft of her neck. His tongue seemed to lap up the blood easily, as if an apology for his unbridled animosity. He treated her like glass he knew could be repaired. Delicate, but made for shattering.

Megumi seemed to hardly use any strength to rip the front of her shirt open with one hand, leaning down to pepper his kisses down her chest. The tattered remains of her shirt and bra fell to the floor, leaving the upper part of her body completely vulnerable and to his mercy. Teeth on skin, marking, sucking — He was making sure no inch of her didn’t carry him.

A breath, and [name] almost thought he’d come to his senses with the way his ministrations paused. However, she was proven wrong when he moved to remove her bottoms too. His free hand reached down and began to rub circles on her, now, exposed clit. She writhed as much as she could, breathless pleas falling from her lips as his long fingers worked their way inside of her, eliciting even more pained cries.

The boy didn’t offer a response, much too lost in everything about the moment. She was under him, whimpering because of him, this wet because of him— What else could he ever ask for?

In one swift movement, Megumi lifted her thighs to rest around his waist. He had pulled his sweatpants down enough to rub his erection against her bare pussy. She winced at the movement, head thrown back against the wall as his grip tightened around her wrists. A quietly strained groan left his throat, the first noise he’d made this whole time. 

[name] bit her tongue so as to not offer any other response that may satisfy, resorting to quietly struggling against him again. He, of course, did not budge one bit. The horror she felt before only increased when the head of his cock started to push into her. A strangled cry, eyes squeezing shut as he sunk deeper and deeper into her warmth.

He groaned quietly again, just letting his hips rest against hers for a moment. It didn’t last very long though, as he slowly started to roll his thrusts into her, face buried in her neck as she kept her head held high against the wall.

The thrusts started off fairly slow, but he really just— couldn’t get enough. Megumi hissed a quiet ‘fuck…’, pace increasing a great amount. She tried to hold back, but her back had already arched the tiniest bit, canines digging into her lip.

The brutality of how he fucked her just got worse and worse, and soon enough the whole dorm was full of both of their strained moans, skin slapping against skin, thumps against the wall. She couldn’t take it anymore, tears streaming down her face for a while now as she begged him to just stop, stop, stop—

But it doesn’t take a genius to see how he was far too deep in to tap out now. Megumi’s groans and soft whines echoed against the wall, and he couldn’t care less that Yuuji could easily hear them from the next room over. If anything, that was good — Maybe Yuuji’d take the hint after hearing her moan his name instead. 

[name]’s breath quickened, climax approaching, but the sick feeling of being taken advantage of like this, the dirtiness that came with an orgasm from such a sick person— She couldn’t do this. She didn’t want to, she never wanted to. 

Pitch black hair bounced with each pronounced thrust, but his pace grew sloppy. [name]’s breath hitched at the slow realization. It felt like the world had come crumbling down in an instant, and her fear grew impossibly larger. 

“M-Megumi— Not in– Not inside, please—” She stammered, but it really only came out as a whine or whimper than a command. 

Like always, he didn’t offer a response. He just kept fucking into her at that same brutal pace, before his hips stuttered along with her pleas — And before she knew it, he was shooting ropes of white into her tight walls. 

Breathing heavily, Megumi’s hips stayed against hers again, just relishing in the heat pulsing between the two of them. After a few moments of panting and an intimacy she wanted to rip from her body, he let her thighs uncoil from around his waist.

The boy pulled out, juices running down both of their thighs as he tucked himself away. [name] slumped against the wall, in a pool of her own ripped up clothes, completely open and vulnerable to the man who had taken advantage of her. She tucked her knees into her chest, eyes blank and empty as she tried to catch her breath.

Megumi ran a hand through his hair, light sweat catching onto his skin. He clicked his tongue gently, seeming to weigh his options before pulling her up into his arms. She flinched violently, and that only got another click of his tongue. He brought her into the washroom, running a warm bath and shutting the door for the sake of privacy. Ironic, isn’t it?

Which… leads to…

Right now. 

[name] ran a hand down her face, breaths significantly slower but still short. She was completely out of touch right now, eyes swirling with fatigue, blankness, and something akin to horror.

Standing up, she found it in herself to at least wash the parts she felt most dirty, but as she pulled on the spare clothes Megumi had given her, it didn’t make her feel any better. She took a heavy breath, giving it a once-over in the mirror. The oversized shirt hung low enough on her neck to expose all the marks and bruises littered all over the skin, and he hadn’t supplied her with a bra either. No matter what, she was exposed to him.

She blinked the fatigue in her eyes away for the sake of trying to figure out an action plan. If she can exit his dorm right now, get to one of the higher ups and report this, hell, even Yuuji— 

Yeah. She can do that. She rubbed her eyes, lashes damp with still fresh tears. She can do this. Her hand went to the door knob—

But the door swung open itself, Megumi stepping in and shutting the door behind him. He thought himself to be good at keeping his true thoughts and feelings under wraps at all times, he really did — And yet, as he pushed the terrified girl up against the sink, teeth sinking into her neck once more, he knew it was bullshit.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it sure as hell burned in one.

𝘱𝘭𝘴𝘴𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘥 𝘰𝘬 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 ☆

[sleepingdeath-light]

how he acts when he has a crush hcs ; jax

requested by ; discardedcarcass (29/10/23)

fandom(s) ; the amazing digital circus

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; jax

outline ; “saw you did TADC requests and read the jax relationship hcs and thought of jax having a crush hc !!”

warning(s) ; canon-typical asshole behaviour from jax

if you don’t know jax well enough, it’s very difficult to tell the difference between how he acts around his crush compared to how he acts around someone he simply doesn’t hate — this is because simply ‘liking’ someone isn’t enough to get him to stop being an asshole

as a matter of fact, it actually makes him worse

he spends more time around you than the other members of the circus, but that also means that you’re his most frequent bullying victim — and you being his crush doesn’t mean he’s going to go light on you (all it actually means is that you’re going to be the first person he looks to after messing with another member of the circus, and whose positive reactions encourage him the most whenever he pulls off a particularly funny joke or amusing prank)

he pranks you relentlessly both at the circus and during adventures: putting you in the line of fire, tripping you up when you walk, purposefully detaching any parts of your digital form that separate from your body, breaking into your room and leaving ‘gifts’ for you to find or just outright stealing things to mess with you, dragging you into the middle of his schemes while mocking you endlessly, etc.

and his teasing doesn’t just start and end at physical pranks as he makes a point to verbally bully you in just about every conversation you have — granted, it’s never completely mean spirited and if you pay close enough attention to him it’s clear that he’s just vying for your attention, but it’s certainly not nice either

he also makes a point to put down, bully, and degrade any other humans or npcs you’re around when you seem to be getting along with them more than usual

when you two are on adventures together jax’s behaviour also becomes noticeably more extreme (and, for everyone else around him, all the more frustrating) as he tries to keep your attention on him and get reactions out of you — usually this translates to more extreme acts of violence, riskier behaviour with the other humans, becoming more insulting/antagonistic towards the npcs you’re around, and being even more demanding and forceful with everyone else as he tries to get them to do what he wants

between tasks, when you’re just hanging out at the circus or when you’ve decided against participating for this particular mission, jax tends to just follow you around like a weird kind of lost puppy — constantly joking around, still being his annoying self, refusing to tell you the real reason why he’s always close by and lying about you just having funnier reactions than anyone else in the circus, but also just always being there and always trying to get you to react

it’s all very annoying at first, if a little confusing, but if you manage to put the pieces of it all together then it’s pretty easy to flip the situation on its head by making a point of blatantly ignoring jax in favour of spending time with other humans or flirting with some npcs — watch him get all huffy and annoyed until he’s finally forced to admit to his feelings (this could last a while, he’s a pretty stubborn guy, but with if you ignore him for long enough you may just force his hand)

[yourdoorisunlocked]

I'll Never Meet Another You... - Part 2

📺〘 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑰𝑰𝑰 〙📺

𝐀/𝐍: Back after popular demand... *drumroll* OUR FAVORITE TV MAN!! 🥰 I just love writing Possessive!Vox, idk what it is about him, he's just so sCrUmPtIoUs-

I lowkey feel like I'm betraying my country of Alastor Nation by simping for this man, but CAN YOU BLAME ME??

. . .

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟑,𝟎𝟕𝟗 ⚠︎ 𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐖 ⚠︎: 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫, 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐕𝐨𝐱 𝐡𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬, 𝐞𝐭𝐜. 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: ꜱᴏᴍᴇʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ

. . .

The skies of hell that normally shone a bright cherry red had faded into a deep alluring maroon, mock sparkles twinkling down upon the Pride Ring in a beautiful imitation of Earth’s stars when you finally returned home from work. 

You slammed your front door behind you, as all of the day’s pent-up frustration from being overworked and criminally underpaid finally weighed down on you, and a few dishes trembled in fear of your wrath as a soft glow of darkness outlined your figure. 

The peace of the apartment had been entirely interrupted to make room for your sulking at your shitty living situation, though you knew you should’ve been grateful to have your job, however stressful.

For you, it definitely beat out prostitution or becoming an assassin-for-hire, so, who were you to complain about your mentally taxing job as a waitress? You might’ve been catcalled a handful of times, and maybe it even bordered on harassment here and there, but you weren’t forced to outright fuck them.  

And thankfully, after some time, you had realized that for some reason, they never seemed to return to the restaurant, seeming to go missing completely from existence. Even an uncomfortable coworker of yours that you despised being around had been “let go” after a mere day of working at the diner. Maybe they all got the hint? That’s what you’d like to hope. 

Though, even if you were safe from such advances, you definitely weren’t spared from the abuse of being burnt out of all your social battery in order to serve people. 

The fact that it was Valentine’s Day in a few days didn’t make it any better. 

For the entire first week of February, you were forced to sacrifice your sanity to serve people with a dazzling smile and cake a ridiculous amount of concealer on your face to hide your heavy eyebags.

Not to mention the slight jealousy that had boiled over inside of you, fueled by exhaustion and loneliness from cold nights alone and grueling days working at the restaurant, whenever you had to serve those lovey-dovey couples that were all over each other.

You despised them, with their tender Eskimo kisses, and stupid, mushy pet names for each other, and- Oh, great, they’re fucking under the table, now!

You’d had to kick out more than one group for that handful of incidents.

Just once, you’d like for someone to sweep you off your tired feet and bring you to a nice little outing, while shoving your infatuation with each other in everyone’s single-pringle fucking faces. 

Oh, well. It wasn’t like finding love in a wretched place like Hell was probable. But you had your delusional fantasies, and more importantly, your playlists. 

A familiar bloom of warmth in your chest had your heart ache with relief as you stumbled over to your bedroom. You promptly flopped onto your thin, squeaky mattress and stretched out your arms and legs, popping each stiff joint that had formed that day. 

Rolling onto your back, you let your loose hair that had been strained into a bun all day fall onto the bed as you opened Sinstagram, bobbing your head to a song that had been stuck inside your playlist for a while.

It felt like an actual crime to start indulging in your daily stalking admiring of your latest obsession, the television Overlord himself, the founder of the biggest tech company in the Pride Ring, you guessed it, Vox. 

Yes, you knew that it was creepy, but this was Hell. Who was anyone to judge you for fangirling – just a little bit – over him? Especially with that face card. You’d had very unsavory relationships in the past, but you’d throw your entire Sacred Rulebook of Relationship Standards out of the proverbial window for Vox. 

Besides, anyone would be fucking blind not to fawn over him. Seven feet tall, hotter than hell itself, and more powerful and influential than you could possibly conceive? He was every Wattpad reader’s wet dream. The blueprint, if you were being honest.

As you start scrolling through his Sinstagram – well, the company’s, really – a soft smile spreads across your face, your yearning gaze completely taken with him. 

The levels of down bad you had to be, to fall in love with a flat screen... 

Unbeknownst to you, a soft whirring that could’ve easily been mistaken for an air conditioner had gotten louder and louder, closer and closer to the familiar stained glass of your bedroom window, tarnished with smoke and pollution. But it was clear enough for someone to look in and see what heinous acts you were doing on that phone of yours, never mind your search history. 

Even Val would turn his nose up at some of that shit...

You didn’t even notice the small flash of the lens from its installed camera, or how it hovered just ever so close enough to the window beside you that it could get a proper view of what you were looking at, the contents of your phone on display for its Master to see. 

And said Master was currently relaxing into his chair with a self-satisfied simper, his earlier stress from the typical daily jetlag melting away in your presence. The tension in Vox's shoulders loosened as his fingers danced over the keyboard briefly, and a monitor to the right lit up with a close-up of your face.

We meet again, Doll~...

The electronic Overlord had been awaiting this moment for what seemed like an eternity, as he mundanely danced his way through daily routine simply to keep you under his watchful eye, come the evening. 

Throughout the day, Vox’s phone had been blowing up, par for the course of the ‘season of love’, as they called it. Of course, dealing with his job daily would’ve been an absolute thrill; cultivating his power and influence to spread across the Pride Ring by the second, watch Sinners fall over themselves to purchase the latest of VoxTech, y’know, the usual everyday experience.

But you were his change in daily routine, an escape from the facade of a showman that he had to keep up for the public, and you were right within Vox's reach.

And he could only restrain himself from up and snatching you away for so long. 

Though, recently, the idea of kidnapping you had left a rather sour taste on Vox's tongue. He would've rather lured you in with his persona, and captivate you with all that he could offer, the security, the wealth, whatever you'd desire, Vox would provide.

So, when Vox found out about your "little" infatuation with him, what with the sinful fanart hoarding and the fact that you anonymously followed every account that he or his company managed, it was a game changer.

And the television demon was, above all, a courteous, charismatic demon, despite his... outbursts. And although he didn't have much relationship experience, he'd rather like to learn.

And he was sure that you'd be more than willing to teach him.

Vox’s focus from his fantasies were broken by the sight of your expression souring when a notification pinged on your phone. 

It was your new co-worker, who had texted you the details of the new opening times since the restaurant had been getting much more foot traffic. 

And it apparently planned to remain that way until the end of the month. 

"6 A.M.? Are you fucking kidding me?... Alright, might as well get to bed earlier, now," you stood up and begrudgingly over to your bathroom, grumbling a string of curses as your bad mood was freshly revived.

Vox watched as you retreated from your bedroom, throwing articles of clothing from the bathroom onto your bed.

Water began pattering against the marble walls, and steam had gradually seeped into the room.

“I’m just an average man, with an average life...” 

“I work from nine to five, hey, hell, I pay the price.” 

Oh, you little tease...

With a soft scoff at the irony, Vox started humming along to the little tune you’d started singing as he tapped his fingers against the desk, impatient to be graced with your presence on the live feed of the VoxTech Voyeurscope. 

“All I want is to be left alone, in my average home.” 

“But why do I always feel, like I’m in the Twilight Zone?” 

Vox sat back in his chair and kicked his legs upon the surface of his desk, his mind racing with answers to your predicament.

“I always feel like, somebody’s watchin’ me~!"

He was accustomed to returning to his room, only to bear witness to your mad self-ranting about what a dick your boss was, how your shitty pay was barely supporting you, and the many idiots you had to deal with, ones Vox would personally take care of, of course. 

“And I have no privacy, ooh-oh-oh,"

"I always feel like, somebody's watching me!"

But as entertaining as it was, Vox hated seeing you slump into your abode, the eyebags more prominent than ever on your face.

You looked so... tired, so spent. He'd never use you like that, not if he was your boss...

“Tell me is it just a dream?” 

Wait...

A pixelated lightbulb flashed against the left side of Vox's interface as he leaned forward against his monitor, frantically searching for whoever he needed to terminate fire so that you could take their place. 

And, like a hellish prayer answered, the spot for a personal assistant was gloriously empty.

Heh, there really is a God...

A wave of Vox’s hand ordered the computer to direct him to his personal digital office, showing him forms, emails, and requests waiting for him to green light, all minor cases compared to what he was searching for. 

It didn’t take long for Vox to find the form he was looking for, and it seemed that Lucifer had smiled upon him that day, as right when he retrieved the assistant application form, you exited the shower, the patter of water coming to an abrupt stop. 

You walked out in nothing but a towel and a sheen of water droplets glistening against your skin. Ever the gentleman, Vox turned away with a small blue-hued blush when you dropped the towel and began to dress yourself, only turning back when he spotted you picking up the towel out of his peripheral. 

With a small, triumphant smirk and a short mental request, the Voyeurscope returned promptly to Vox. He handed it the form, manifesting it into a physical piece of paper to insert into its awaiting craned claws. 

Vox could get you out of that horrible place, no doubt about it. But he had to make sure that you did your part as well. 

"Bring this to her apartment. Be discreet about it."

He handed the drone the empty form, and instantly it zoomed across the Entertainment District to your apartment, which wasn’t even that far from the Vee’s headquarters. 

It made a short trip through the ventilation system that led into your bedroom, tucking in on itself to deliver the paper to you.

Thankfully your back was turned to it and braiding your hair, as a shiny metal claw reached out from behind the metal door to the vent just above your bed. It dropped the application form upon your mattress, and Vox waited with bated breath for you to notice.

The form floated precariously down onto your bed, landing gracefully just as you turned around and jumped onto the mattress. You were half-tempted to reach for your phone and end the night with your daily simp-scrolling before bed. 

Vox’s heart lurched in his chest once you spotted the form and held up the piece of paper with a questioning expression. You didn’t remember having this anywhere in your bag when you left the restaurant. 

“What in the...?”  

Then, your eyes caught onto the logo. 

VoxTech. 

Holy shit. 

Apparently, you’d accidentally snatched someone else’s application form to work for VoxTech, an idea that completely slipped your mind for the last miserable months you’d slaved away at the diner you worked at.

It wasn’t like a spontaneous trip to the Entertainment District, of all places, was something that you could afford, let alone tolerate with the skeezes that sauntered about the streets, looking for young little things like you to prey on. 

But despite its infamous reputation, Vox definitely wasn’t the worst of the Vees, not by a fucking long shot. And that wasn’t just your obsessive, simping brain talking here. 

Sure, he was the embodiment of capitalism and corporate greed at its finest, but an office job with a few tons of workload sounded much better than what you were getting, working at a shabby restaurant and going home every night to your shithole of an apartment.

Not to mention, you’d be working under the Overlord you’d obsessed over for weeks on end. 

Hopefully you’d get the chance to be under him, too- 

Also, the goddamn paygrade! Your eyes bulged out of your head and your mouth fell slightly agape in surprise, unaware of how the television Overlord was gauging your every reaction and sipping on his coffee with an amused smirk. 

Perhaps God had finally taken pity upon your mortal soul and decided that you deserved to catch a break, and for that, you were eternally grateful. You’d be skipping halfway to church, by now, if Hell had one. Maybe even click your heels a couple times on the way, too. 

In a flash, you rushed over to your nuclear fallout zone of a desk, sweeping the mess of papers and ‘RENT DUE’ bills off its surface. You quickly took a pen and scribbled down the required information for the application form at lightning speed. Smoke was practically rising off the paper by the time you were done with it.

The form was filled out in record time, and Vox watched as his plan unfolded perfectly before him. The definite click of your desk drawer closed as you placed the form inside for tomorrow, your fate sealed and unknowingly passed into Vox's greedy hands. 

“So gullible for me, aren’t you~?” His gaze softened adoringly towards you as he murmured to no one; gentle, placating words meant for your ears hitting only the damned barrier of his computer screen.

A fond, blue-hued grin lined with neon teal teeth spread across Vox’s blue-screen interface as he watched you flop onto your bed. You kicked your feet happily and gushed like a schoolgirl as you lost yourself to your daydreaming.

You knew you weren’t important enough to actually have a meeting with Vox himself, but this was fucking fanfic material, and a gorgeous opportunity that you knew was too good to brush off. 

“Ooh! I can’t wait to meet him! If I ever meet him. I wonder what Vox's like when he isn’t working... He’s definitely the Type A kinda guy, super work oriented.” A spot-on observation.

“Ugh... But I’m totally not, though. Eh, doesn’t matter, I’ll be accepted either way, it’s not like anyone else is brave enough to accept the job.” Well, she’s not wrong. 

“No, that’s a little cocky. I mean, it’s not exactly a guarantee I’ll be accepted.” Oho, you’d be surprised, my dear...

You pouted doubtfully for a moment, weighing all the variables in your head. This could go horribly wrong for you, maybe even end up with your brains splattering against an aquarium wall, if you played your cards recklessly.

But you'd had enough of this life, and you were far from sick of drowning in the suffocating depressive cycle that you'd been spiraling into for the past couple of months since you'd arrived in Hell.

Who knew your afterlife would be just as dismal and bleak as your human one.

“But it’s worth a shot!” You clenched your fists with a newfound determination, and Vox let out a relieved sigh. You really shouldn’t scare him like that, not when he was so close to having you securely within his grasp. Willingly, that is.

If pushed to it, Vox had no qualms over taking you by force.

“Even though I have no idea what he’s like in person, I’d die to meet him. Double die, that is.”  

“Ugh, but should I miss my shift for the interview? Or should I plan to go there whenever Boss gives me a break next?”  

It was practically torture, watching you go back and forth between decisions, leaving Vox feeling like he was watching the finale of ‘Yeah, I Fucked Your Girlfriend, So What?’, and it had left him on the cruelest cliffhanger he could’ve possibly manifested in the history of shitty melodramas. 

You hadn’t even decided what you were even going to wear, and you were already rethinking your afterlife’s choices. 

Oh, shit...

Your once relaxed state was all but diminished when you realized that simply showing up to the interview wasn’t going to cut it. You had to dress to impress to land this job.

After all, Vox's reputation was the peak of excellence, perfection at its finest, and the company's interviewers would probably have you executed on the spot if you dared to show up in tattered sweatpants and your favorite hoodie.

You rushed over to your dresser, throwing out any articles of clothing you deemed inappropriate for the interview.

Finally, you settled on a plain midnight blue form-fitting blouse with a black ascot, and a black pencil skirt that you had bought for your uniform at the diner. You never wore it much, of course, with all the sleazy customers you’d attract, but you thought it was cute, anyway. 

With a satisfied hum, you laid out the outfit upon your desk, and with a relieved sigh, fell right back into bed with your phone on the lowest brightness possible.

You then scrolled the endless crimson twilight away with half-lidded eyes until you slowly drifted off to sleep, leaving Vox alone to his thoughts once more.

Upon seeing your dozing form, Vox made the drone hover for just a few more moments to watch you drift off into a blissful sleep.

He promptly called it back, and once again, the poor drone worked overtime to return to its Master, and its battery was nearly completely spent as it landed in Vox's claws.

Sharp, neon-dipped fingers tampered with the device for a moment, searching for the gold mine of footage he had recorded. He tossed the video onto his monitor's screen, and the file loaded and saved instantly into his precious folder. 

A warmth crept up his chest as he laid back in his chair, a conniving grin stretching its way onto his features.

The familiar smugness of sure victory, and the honey-sweet bitterness of whatever spell you had put him under had left his heart aching. You may have been prone to your midday daydreaming, but they couldn't compare to Vox's ambitious fantasies of you and him together.

And tomorrow, you'd be all his. His personal assistant, clad in that tight little uniform that had him frothing at the mouth for you.

And speaking of which...

Vox's retinas pulled up different images of uniforms and color-coordinated outfits that perfectly matched his likeness and style.

Indeed, when Vox was done with you, you'd be a spitting image of him, every facet and aspect of you fashioned for him, and him alone.

Every demon in Hell would know exactly who you belonged to, from the marks that would line your shoulders and thighs, to the pleated blue skirt and coattails that he'd have Velvet fashion, just for you.

She'd look stunning in my colors...

. . .

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Alright, I promise, I SWEAR WE'RE GETTING THERE-

I needed to use this chapter to build up the plot's structure, since the first chapters tend to be little concepts of what I want the rest of the story to be about. I promise, ON MY MOTHER that next chapter we will be seeing more Vox x Reader content in chapter three, especially since the tv demon brainrot is invading and corrupting my brain cells rn 😓

As always, thanks for reading! And once again, my taglist is always below, so please comment there to be tagged!

. . .

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @starsformydarlingmazel, @chitter-chatter, @hazzbindarlingg, @darkangel582, @matrixbearer2024, @prosciuttosblog, @frog-fans-unite, @chewbrry, @villxinmiixx, @lulurubberduckie, @mysterypotatoink, @kintsugi-akane, @rustedtoaster

➺𝑩𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑩𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝑻𝒐 @cafekitsune - 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫!