Stiles Deserves Road Head Fs

stiles deserves road head fs

reader has hair long enough to tie back; MDNI 18+

there were times when you absolutely hated stiles' jeep.

it wasn't particularly fit for road trips, even without considering the unreliability of the engine and stiles' handiwork of duck tape temporarily keeping things together. compared to lydia's car for example, the seats were stiff and barely allowed for any sleeping room. leaving you sitting upright with your head resting against the window and knocking into the metal of the interior any time stiles' ran through a pothole.

but there were times when the truck had redeemable qualities, namely the lack of a center console.

sure, it would've been nice to have something to rest your hand on as you wrapped your mouth around stiles' cock. but really, beggars couldn't be choosers and in this scenario both you and stiles were beggars.

so stiles drives a little smoother, settling on the outside lane to leisurely cruise instead of being pressured by trucks bigger than his in the inside lane. and this way, he gets to enjoy your lips sliding up and down his cock, and you aren't facing the plausible threat of losing your grip on the seat next to stiles' thigh and hitting the floor.

it's as comfortable as you can get. one hand pressed into cracking leather with the other resting on stiles' thigh. your seatbelt more of a decoration than anything as it loops around your body in a way that allows you to kneel on the seat, your ass turned towards the window. stiles' has one hand resting on your back between the end of your sweatshirt and the beginning of your leggings. the other rests on the steering wheel, effectively opening his body up to your work.

the tape in the radio has long ended, leaving space for the music from stiles' lips to fill the area. the sound of his breathing, deep sighs nearly each time you went down. the sound of his grunts each time you came up and swirled your tongue around him.

he tries to praise you every so often, but stiles' brain can only handle so much stimulation. and focusing on the road while also focusing on you is all he can take, leaving him to utter unfinished sentences.

"doing so ..."

"jesus, you're so ..."

"mhm, right ... right t–"

your hair has been tied back since the first half hour of the trip, but between your intense sing-alongs and your less intense naps, only half of your hair remains in the tie, leaving stiles to push your hair back, holding it off of your face.

in an attempt to thank him without sacrificing his pleasure, you look up at him and smile as best as you can. but since your mouth is occupied, the look transfers mostly to your eyes.

you don't know what does it, but stiles glances down at you, stares into your eyes for less than a minute, and then grips your hair as his hips jerk up into your mouth, his foot slams down onto the gas pedal, and he cums right down your throat.

I'm Good At Letting You Go (You Were Never the Enemy)

part one

A/N: I didn't expect anyone to read the first part, but a few people did, so here we are. I thought publishing a one-shot might help my hyperfixation, and prevent me from seeing the movie a third time, but...again...here we are.

warnings: explicit language, blood and gore, allusions to violence involving guns

summary: the end and the beginning of your relationship with lo'ak

***

Loose cuffs trapped your wrists. You’d wriggle out of them once the guards turned their backs. And the ship would be easy enough to crawl through undetected. The head injury resulted in nothing but a mild throbbing in your skull. It was the inconvenience of having to escape that irked you, that made your fingers itch to get a hold of the gun pressed to your head so you could inconvenience your captors right back.

Revenge was not something you thirsted over often, but you became a lot less forgiving after you left the Metkayina clan a year ago.

(after you left Lo’ak)

The wreckage of your simple plan was not entirely your fault, though. There was another presence on the ship, something more violent than you, that caused an unaccounted-for influx of guards and updated security system that resulted in your capture.

The cells were on the bottom of the ship, and you sighed to yourself as you saw how much extra work it would take to climb back up undetected.

“Pretty hair,” one of the guards sneered, wrapping their fists in your strands and yanking. “I wonder how much it’d sell for.” Your steps faltered, neck jerked back, and you gave one last struggle to get away from them, but their grip on your arms was too tight, and you knew it was futile, so you let them drag you along, scalp aching.

Keeping a mental note of how many left and right turns you took, you were led down a winding hallway, stopped in front of a heavy door.

Shoved inside, you had a strong sense of déjà vu when you met eyes with the other prisoner in the cell.

Your steps faltered, something the soldiers behind you mistook for resistance. They shoved you forward, fastening your wrists to the bar next to Lo’ak.

“Hey, wait,” Lo’ak called after them when they turned to leave. “I’ll take a bullet to the brain, please.”

Heaving in a stuttering breath, you looked at the floor as the guards urged Lo’ak to be careful what he wished for. Then, the door opened and sealed shut, and the two of you were alone for the first time in months.

Silence spread between you, stifling you. Lo’ak was never one to keep his thoughts to himself, and you waited for his tongue-lashing, but it never came.

“It wasn’t easy.” You still weren’t looking at him, instead choosing to burn a hole in the wall. You had risked a few glances, though, comforted by the fact that he wasn’t looking at you, either. You did not want to be the victim of the hatred in his eyes. “Leaving, I mean. It wasn’t—” you cut yourself off with a sigh, frustrated at your lack of words.

How many times had you dreamed about being reunited with him? Granted, under more favorable circumstances, but you’d spent so long without him, thinking of him, wishing things were different. Wishing you could talk to him just one more time and explain yourself.

And now he was here, next to you, chained down so he literally had to listen to you, and you couldn’t figure out what to say.

“Seemed easy enough.”

The two of you exchanged a long glance.

You should’ve known that when you saw him again, it would not be full of warm embraces. It would be harsh words and cold shoulders.

“Leaving, I mean.” He mocked you with a shake of his head. Talking down to you, like he used to when you first met.

You were being honest.

When you joined the Sully’s on their journey, you told yourself not to get attached. This is only temporary, you repeated in your head, even as you taught Kirri what you knew about healing and let Tuk fall asleep on you at night. This is only temporary, you reminded yourself as Neteyam taught you hunting tricks and Neytiri put beads in your hair and Jake sharpened your knives for you and laughed when you showed him the records you’d collected.

I remember this one, he had said, eyes bright, turning the Britney Spears vinyl over in his hands. You should see the music video.

But somewhere along the way you’d forgotten just how fragile your situation was. Distracted by the feeling of finally having a family, of finally having people who would notice if you fell off the face of the earth, you forgot to repeat your mantra.

This is only temporary, you neglected to remind yourself as you showed Lo’ak around the little tree house you’d built near his birthplace, explaining your past through little polaroid’s hung on the wall.

This is only temporary, you forgot to whisper when the two of you laid on the back of Payakan, tracing constellations, spending the night drifting on the calm ocean waves.

Lulled into a false sense of security, you chipped away at the stone exterior you’d spent so long constructing, and just as you lowered your defenses, you were struck.

When you left, you told yourself it was only temporary.

At least, you wanted it to be.

But in the long year without him, without any of them, you were reminded why you left. You put a target on their back and returning would be cruel.

Lo’ak didn’t understand that, though, a fact made clear by his tense shoulders and clenched jaw.

You missed him.

Suddenly, you started tugging at your cuffs. You thought seeing him again would be easy. Maybe all that time apart made you delusional.

You slipped out of your restraints, reached into your boot, and gripped the small blade hidden there. Stepping towards him, he leaned back, as if he couldn’t stand you being close to him.

“Don’t,” he warned. “I don’t want anything from you.”

Staring at him, standing there like an idiot with the knife limp in your hand, you said, “you’re being ridiculous.”

He raised his eyebrows, scoffing. “I’m being ridiculous?” Clenching his fists, you were suddenly glad he was restrained. “You’re so fucking—” he cut himself off, and you were thankful, because you don’t think you could handle whatever he was about to call you. “Just get the fuck out. I never want to see you again.”

“I’m not leaving you here.”

“Funny. You seem to be really good at that.”

“Can we just focus on getting off of this ship and then we can—"

“You don’t get to pick and choose when you give a shit about me--”

“Would you just stop and listen--” You paced, directly in front of him, his face tilted back to look up at you, enraged.

“You left.”

His words cut through yours, and whatever you were about to say died on your tongue. The raggedness of his voice, the weariness in his eyes as he looked at you, this was not the same Lo’ak you walked away from.

There was no response from you. You did leave, you couldn’t negate that fact. It had been for his benefit, but you still left.

At the time, you convinced yourself that it wouldn’t matter. He was fine before you, then you were just a way to pass time and get comfort, and he’d be fine after you. Same with all the others.

It was a different kind of heartbreak. You’d convinced yourself that you were the only one mourning your loss. Looking at him now, you thought maybe that wasn’t the case.

The cell door swung open. You turned, half expecting a bullet, but instead you were greeted with a familiar face.

“Kiri,” you said in surprise as she said your name in the same tone, both of your eyes wide. She looked between her brother, the knife in your hand, and your face. She looked pale, as if she’d seen a ghost.

If Kiri was here, so was Tuk, and Neteyam, which meant their parents were probably also close by.

You retreated.

It made you a coward, turning tail and running at the first sign of conflict, but you’d fought against every single impulse to return to them, and facing Lo’ak’s disappointment alone was too much to bear. You couldn’t face all of them.

“1657 is the security code,” you told her, gesturing to the side of the cell. “Punch it in and the door will open.”

Kiri was still staring at you, motionless. Your impatience snapped. “Now, Kiri. Please.”

The doors slid open; a suction of air released. There was no barrier between you now. In your head, your reunion with her was full of smiles and laughter.

You brushed past her in silence and dropped the knife on the ground in front of her. “In case you need it,” you jerked your head towards Lo’ak. “For him.”

You didn’t look back, knowing it’d be much harder if you did. You regretted seeing him at all, and wished you never had.

Before, your last memory of him was on that tiny island.

Now, the last thing you’ll remember of him will be his harsh words and resentful eyes.

A long time ago, your first meeting had been under similar circumstances.

Laying in the darkest corner of the cave, you woke groggily, as if you’d been drugged. You blinked, head aching, your cheek pressed to something wet. Your own blood, you assumed, judging by the metallic smell and taste in your mouth.

A loose knot restrained your hands in front of you, and although you felt like you’d been put through the ringer, it was easy enough to pick. With weak arms, you pushed yourself up, swaying. You pressed a hand to the cave wall to steady yourself. Whatever happened to you, you must’ve lost a lot of blood as a result.

You took a few staggering steps, trying your best to keep yourself quiet.

The sound of arguing around a bend in the cave covered your clumsiness.

“We have to call this in.”

“Are you kidding? We’ll be slaughtered.”

“It’ll be worse if we don’t tell him, and then he finds out later.”

“I’ll be murdered. Violently.”

“You exaggerate.”

“And what do you think they’ll do to her? What if they kill her.”

“They won’t.”

“We don’t know that.”

Back pressed to the cold stone, you listened. You only heard two different voices. Two captors were manageable. Two captors you could sneak past and avoid a fight. In your weakened state, you would be no match for even the kindest of creatures.

Just as you’d lifted your foot to slink through the shadows, a third voice interrupted. You grit your teeth, mood soured, and retreated again.

“I say we talk to her first.”

“Who knows if we even speak the same language.”

“She looked pretty bad when you brought her here. I should go check on her, make sure she’s still alive.” The female voice sounded kind, but at the mention of her coming to look for you, you panicked.

In a perfect world, you’d have a weapon to defend yourself. But this was Pandora, and whoever dragged you to this cave was smart enough to confiscate anything you could’ve used to hurt them.

There was more bickering between them as you wrestled with yourself, deciding whether you should make a run for the opening of the cave (which would be more like a very brisk walk, in your state).

Except you had no idea where you were. It could be more dangerous outside of the cave than inside.

Before your mind caught up with your actions, you stepped around the bend in the cave, making yourself known to the others.

The girl saw you first. She paused mid-step, falling back on her heel as her eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise.

She was Omaticayan, evident by her tail and color. There was another boy with her, too, also belonging to the same clan. The sky person threw you off guard, his shock clear through the mask he wore on his face.

Even though they had a few inches on you in height, and more muscle, the fact that they seemed to be similar in age leveled the playing field a bit.

A long stretch of silence followed your appearance as they sized you up, just as you’d been doing to them. You imagined how horrifying you looked. Hair matted to your face with dried blood, cuts and deep bruises along your body and face, voice rasped. “Do I need to worry about you killing me?”

Your question shocked them out of their stupor.

“How did you get free from the rope?”

The avoidance of your question set you on edge, and your shoulders tensed. “The knot was loose.”

The Na’avi boy punched the human boy in the arm. “I told you to tie that shit tighter.”

“I didn’t want to cut off her circulation!”

“Do I have to worry about you trying to kill me?” you reiterated your question, louder this time, though your voice still cracked.

“No,” the girl spoke, placing a hand over her chest. “We were just—”

“I saved your life.”

The girl closed her eyes and sighed when the Omaticayan boy spoke, and you looked over her shoulder at him.

Wracking your brain, you tried to remember needing to be saved. But you were drawing up blank, and that disadvantage frustrated you. He could be lying, and you’d have no way of knowing.

“How long have I been here?”

He scoffed, inching a few steps forward. “You know, usually people say, ‘thank you’ when someone goes out of their way to keep them from dying.”

“Lo’ak—” the girl hissed, turning her face to give him a warning glance.

He raised his hands limply in self-defense, giving her a boyish grin and a halfhearted shrug. “I’m just saying.” He looked at you again. “Maybe they do things differently where you’re from.”

Based on the way you looked, it was evident you were not native to the forest. Your hair a stark white, even underneath the blood stains. Skin a lighter shade of blue, smaller than them.

The girl turned back to you with an exasperated look. “Ignore him. We’re not going to kill you.”

Still on edge, you took a step back to put some distance between yourself and the rest of them. She placed a hand on her chest, sensing your discomfort. “My name’s Kiri.” She jerked her head towards the human boy. “That’s Spider.”

Despite yourself, your lips quirked. “Spider?”

Cheeks tinted red, he explained the lore behind his name, but you were only half-listening, still trying to hatch an escape plan.

You didn’t realize he’d stopped speaking until they were all staring at you expectantly. “Oh,” you said, swallowing thickly. You told them your name since it was only fair.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you.” Kiri smiled, and you could tell she wanted to ask questions. They all did, you could see it in their curious glances. An interrogation was exactly the situation you wanted to avoid.

Your eyes flicked down to the girl’s arm, where she pressed a white cloth to her forearm. It was dripping, splattering on the cave floor.

Finally, a way out.

“I can treat that.” You nodded towards her injury.

“We’re headed back to our home soon. They can patch me up there.”

“You should come with us,” Lo’ak interjected, stepping forward again. You eyed him.

Supposedly, he saved your life. You’ve never even met him before, and doubted it was true. Kiri and Spider seemed a bit more hesitant than he was, aware of the fact that none of you knew each other. Lo’ak seemed at ease, though. Shoulders relaxed, eyes bright and trusting, like he was searching for something within in you.

Too close, an alarm rang in your head. You made a mental note to keep an eye on him.

“You’ll lose a lot more blood if you wait. I can stitch it up in just a few minutes. Where are we?”

Their curiosity got the better of them. You followed them outside, blinking in the bright sunlight, eyes sore from sleep and having adjusted to the darkness of the cave.

You were near some sort of wreckage. A small ship crashed in a clearing a few hundred feet from the opening of the cave. “We found this place after we got caught in a storm one day.” Spider moved just as quickly as his Na’avi friends; you noted as he spoke to you. “Pretty cool, right?”

Scouring through the rubble, you popped a drawer and found a medic kit inside. Cracking it open, you told Kiri to sit. Her brothers did as well, watching intently. Lo’ak had a hand near his sheath, the handle of a blade glinting in the light. Your eyes flicked from his weapon to his face, and you turned away when you saw him watching you just as intently.

It was a standard cut. Deeper than most, hence the extreme bleeding, but not fatal. You’d collected plants outside, familiar leaves that would sedate the pain. You talked to her about what you were doing, figuring it would put her more at ease. She talked back, seemingly knowing a few things about healing herself.

“I’ve never seen anyone use this stitching pattern before.” When you finished, she held her arm up, eyes glistening with unshed tears, observing your technique.

“Since the wound was so deep, I used a tighter stitch. The thread won’t dissolve on its own, so in a few weeks you’ll have to get them removed.” You shut the kit, returning it to the drawer. “Don’t mess with it and you’ll be fine.”

You were feeling better, stronger, than you were when you woke up. You turned towards the window, suddenly. “I think someone’s coming,” you told them, and they all turned away from you to peer out the window.

When they turned back, you were gone.

Lo’ak couldn’t believe they fell for something so stupid. On the trek back home, he kept shaking his head at himself. “I mean, it’s so fucking dumb.”

“How about we leave that part out when we tell mom and dad. It’s too embarrassing.” Kiri ran her fingers over her new stitches.

“We’ll just say we let her go. It’s technically not a lie,” Spider added.

But his parents didn’t buy it for one second.

The three of them stood in front of thir family, telling their story with sweeping hand movements and talking over each other, only to be met with silence and narrowed eyes. Neteyam biting his lip to keep from grinning, Tuk complaining that she hadn’t been invited along on the adventure.

“So, what I’m hearing,” his father turned away from where he’d been kindling his fire. “Is that you got caught in the middle of someone else’s fight, endangered your life by entering that fight, got Kiri injured, saved someone’s life, and then, after giving Kiri stitches, they just vanished.”

“Yes,” Lo’ak said. “That’s exactly what happened.”

Neteyam couldn’t muffle his laugh, though he went through a dramatic effort to disguise it as a cough. Lo’ak didn’t appreciate it, narrowing his eyes at his older brother.

“Spider and Kiri were there. They can corroborate my story.”

“It’s true,” Spider interjected.

Kiri nodded. He knew his father would be hesitant to believe him or Spider, justifiable on most occasions but a nuisance in this case, so Kiri was their chance at convincing him. “She was running from these people—they had guns, I think they kidnapped her—and she went right over the edge of this cliff. If Lo’ak hadn’t caught her, she would’ve fallen to her death.”

Lo’ak straightened his shoulders.

That’s right. He did that.

Good for him.

“And she knew a lot about healing! We talked for a bit about herbal remedies and different stitching methods. She taught me a different way to close a wound, which will be useful.” Kiri displayed her cut for her parents to see, though it seemed to have a negative reaction. Neytiri’s ears flattened, and his father’s jaw clenched. Kiri kept talking, too caught up in her story to notice. “She had this beautiful white hair—”

Neytiri’s hands slipped from where she was skinning some fruit, the knife clattering to the dirt. Eyes wide, she looked up at her daughter. “White, like atokirina?”

Kiri nodded enthusiastically.

Confused, Lo’ak shared a glance with his father. “Do you recognize her?” he asked, turning away from his precious fire.

“They’re from the arctic regions in the North,” Neytiri explained. “Natural born healers. The entire tribe is peaceful, a safe haven for the injured. Their hair is white because they’re thought to be like atokirina, seeds from the Tree of Souls.”

The three kids went silent, considering the new information.

“So, is she like, a spirit?” Lo’ak asked lamely.

“A descendent of one.”

He and Spider leaned across Kiri to punch each other in the shoulders, laughing. “Bro, you saved the life of a spirit.”

“She should’ve stuck around longer. Maybe she would’ve granted me a wish or something.”

Kiri rolled her eyes, pressing her hands to their chests and pushing them away from her. “You’re both so stupid.”

“Hey, Kiri, maybe she healed you with magic.” Lo’ak grabbed her forearm to observe the stitches more closely, but she ripped her arm out of his grip.

“Don’t touch me, asshole.”

“Language,” Jake piped.

“You’re very lucky,” Neytiri went back to skinning her fruit, occasionally cutting off a slice when Tuk tugged at her arm.

“I’m the one who saved her life, she’s the lucky one.”

Spider snickered, and Kiri shook her head. “You can be such a dick, Lo’ak.”

“Language!”

The conversation shifted over dinner, but Lo’ak’s mind strayed to the healer. He had seen you fight, before you went over the edge of the cliff. It was vicious. The snap of a neck, a bullet between the eyes. You didn’t seem like a healer, or a spirit. More like a desperate animal gnawing off their own leg to escape a snare.

Who were those people, and why were they after you?

And the fear in your eyes when you saw them in the cave. He equated spirits with power and calmness. Gentle. You seemed to be anything but as you stood in front of him, dripping in blood.

His curiosity got the best of him. After the rest of his family dozed off, he slipped away, the silver moonlight filtering through the trees and lighting his path as he returned to the cave.

It’s not like he was expecting you to still be there, but he let out a long sigh and his shoulders slumped when he saw that the area was empty and untouched. Exactly how they left it.

“So dumb,” he muttered to himself as he kicked a rock, cursing himself for falling for your stupid trick earlier.

The cave was a lot scarier at night, a deep void that light from the stars couldn’t penetrate. He slid into the shadows, remembering how fast his heart was pounding as he brought you to where Spider was helping Kiri apply pressure to your wound.

“Look what I found.”

You hung limp over his shoulder. You’d already lost consciousness when he caught you on his Ikra, though you’d woken a few times, struggling in his grip. It was easy for him to keep you restrained, and your weak hands pressing against him did little to loosen his grip on you. You fell back under again and didn’t wake up.

Kiri looked at him like he’d been the one to put you in that state. “What did you do.”

He hoisted you back over his shoulder, gently putting you back on the ground. “Hey, a little appreciation would be nice. If it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t be breathing.”

They debated on what to do with you. Hide you under some leaves, wait for you to come-to on your own. Take you back to his family. After a solid fifteen minutes of arguing, they settled for tying your hands and waiting for you to regain consciousness before making any other decisions regarding you.

And then you used the easiest trick in the book to get them to look away for one moment, just one millisecond, and you were gone.

“Where the fuck did she go?” he’d asked, standing up so quickly he nearly knocked himself off his feet.

“She was just here.” Spider spun in a circle, as if you were hiding in a cabinet.

Kiri stifled her laugh. “I can’t believe we fell for that.”

And, yeah. Maybe Lo’ak wanted to talk to you more. It’d been so long since he’d met someone new. Not to mention, your situation seemed exciting. Running from men with guns, able to hold your own in a fight, a healer. Who were you? He wanted to know.

Pulled out of the memory by something sharp underneath his foot, Lo’ak jumped back. He bent down, scooping the object up in his hands. It was a necklace.

He’d never seen it before, and he turned it over in his hands as he hoisted himself into a tree and rested on a branch. Holding it up to the light, he squinted at it, trying to discern where it came from.

Maybe it was yours.

The thought ignited a flicker of hope. If it was yours, it was probably meaningful to you, and you might come back for it.

He found a hollowed-out log close enough to the cave and set the jewelry inside. Somewhere easy enough for you to find, but difficult for an animal to get to.

Days passed. Neteyam didn’t believe him.

“I’m not calling you a liar,” his older brother said as he pulled his bow string taught, aiming at the pool at the bottom of the waterfall. He let the arrow fly. “But I am saying you’re delusional.”

“Scared I’m going to take your place as the mighty warrior of the family?” Lo’ak laid back on the rock, tilting his face towards the warm sun. “I mean, how many spirits have you rescued?”

“She’s not a spirit; she’s the descendant of one.” Neteyam grabbed the fish he hunted, adding it to his collection. “Are you going to help me at all or just scare off all the prey?”

Lo’ak ignored him. “If she lives all the way up North, how’d she get here?” he shook his head, musing. “I bet it’s a good story.”

Neteyam sighed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes up towards the sky. “Too bad you’ll never get to hear it.” He threw a dead fish at Lo’ak, laughing when his brother rolled away from it, jumping after him.

But deep down, it bothered Lo’ak that no one believed him, Kiri, and Spider. He was telling the truth. And he had to prove it.

“She’s not here,” Spider complained.

“I just want to see.”

Always willing to participate in Lo’ak’s antics, he knew Spider was curious about you, too. And when the two of them peered into the hollowed log, they found your necklace was not there.

His heart kicked in excitement. “See! See!” he did a victory lap, jogging around the small clearing and whooping in victory. He stopped and pointed at the empty place where the necklace used to be. “I’m telling you! You saw the state she was in. She couldn’t have gone far.”

“An animal could’ve taken it.”

Lo’ak shook his head. “No. She was here.”

They both looked up at the trees, as if you’d reveal yourself. They observed every inch of their surroundings, checking for tracks or other lost belongings, but you left no trace behind besides the missing necklace.

Lo’ak rode that high for several more days. He checked back every afternoon, sometimes alone, other times bringing Kiri or Spider, and Tuk on one occasion. He knew you were still hiding in his forest. Between the leaves, hiding just outside his peripheral. If he could figure out a way to coax you out, get you to show yourself just one more time, he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

And then he could rub it in his family’s face.

See? he’d tell them, brandishing you like a sword. I’m not crazy!

But his best efforts were futile. No matter how much plotting he did, trying to lure you out with food or other bait, you never bit down on his hook. He grew frustrated.

And then Tuk got sick.

Like, really sick.

Even Mo’at looked worried as she cared for his little sister, Neytiri and Jake doing little other than staying at her bedside.

Lo’ak’s outings to the cave became reprieve from the sick den and the suffocating grief of his family. When he went out alone, he would talk to you. Tell you what was going on in his life. Before, it was mundane things. Like how Spider tried to make an ambitious jump and ate absolute shit in the process. Or how his father taught him how to use a gun and throw a punch.

But now Tuk knocked at death’s door, and he had no idea if she would be turned away or let inside, and he started talking about that instead. He didn’t know if you were listening. He swore up and down that he could feel you, a second heartbeat assisting his own, but he had nothing to show for it besides that one incident.

He escaped one afternoon after he saw Kiri crying, unable to take the emotional weight placed on his family. Lo’ak paced around the clearing, breathing heavy, looking up at the trees. “If you’re there,” he started, angry, “just give me a goddamn sign.”

No response, but a soft breeze through the leaves.

“Some fucking healer you are,” he taunted before he left.

That night, he laid awake next to Tuk, and regretted yelling at you. As if you were even there to hear him.

Tomorrow, he promised himself. Tomorrow is the last day I’ll go back. After that, I’ll let it go.

It was a bad morning for Tuk. She wouldn’t stop coughing, her blood staining the handkerchief.

He stomped the whole way back to the site. He was mad again. He ripped back the leaves he used to cover the hollow log, bracing himself for another wave of disappointment.

His fury dissipated in the air.

A scratch piece of paper read “For your little sister. Take one each day. Mix with honey to help with the taste.” Next to the note laid a collection of small vials, all filled with a deep green liquid.

“It could be poison.” Mo’at shook her head, shoving the vial away. “Too risky.”

“It’s not,” Lo’ak promised, unable to look at where Tuk lay.

“How can you be sure?”

He would’ve launched into the whole story, but his grandmother was a tough nut to crack, and telling her it was a mystery vial left in a log might not be the best approach.

“She’s going to die if we don’t do something.” He set the supposed medicine on the table. “This is our only option.”

His parents mulled it over. Neytiri eyed the vial, holding it up to the light. Jake rested a comforting hand on Lo’ak’s shoulder. “Are you absolutely sure she’s the one that left this?”

She, meaning you. Lo’ak nodded. He could feel it, as sure as Eywa’s presence.

Jake and Neytiri shared a look. His grandmother pursed her lips.

The first day brought no noticeable improvements.

By the third day, Tuk could open her eyes again.

On the tenth day, she spoke for the first time in a month.

By the last vial, she was herself again.

“Gross,” she wrinkled her nose at the smell. Even mixed with honey, it tasted bitter, and she’d grown tired of it.

“Last one,” Neytiri promised, arm wrapped around her youngest.

The weight over his family lifted.

Throughout Tuk’s healing process, he didn’t have the time to return to the cave. But once all the vials were empty, he collected them and raced with Kiri back to the site.

He kept one, hoping its absence would be enough to make you reveal yourself. After setting them in the log, he hesitated before leaving.

“I don’t think we’re ever going to actually see her again,” Kiri told him as they shared lunch in the clearing.

“We don’t know that.”

“If she hasn’t shown herself yet, I doubt she wants to.” She peeled an orange, handing him a slice.

He shrugged. “Who knows.” Spoken with a smile, there was no doubt in his mind that he could find a way to get you to reveal yourself again. He just had to be smart about it, trick you into making a mistake.

Lo’ak left a note with the vials. “You still owe me for saving your life.”

The debt was more than repaid, considering you’d brought Tuk back from the brink of death. But you didn’t need to know that. Kiri gave him a flat look when he placed the note inside the log, shaking her head at him. “I think she’s smarter than that.”

Lo’ak shushed her with a finger to his lips. “She could be listening.” He pointed up towards the trees with a grin.

Kiri narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t shush me.”

They bickered the entire way home.

A weird sort of trading system began. Lo’ak still liked to talk to you when he visited alone, and he found the objects you left for him in the log corresponded with his stories sometimes.

A tiny knife, useful for skinning fish and picking out their tiny bones when he mentioned he was having trouble with that.

A thread and needle when he mentioned Kiri wanted practice replicating your stitching patterns.

A bunch of bright orange leaves when he told you about how one of his friends pierced his own ears and it got infected, accompanied with more instructions. “Chew and place on the piercing. Make sure to disinfect the needle next time.”

He left things for you, too. It was harder, since you weren’t talking to him, and he knew nothing about you. But he tried.

Tuk liked making jewelry when she wasn’t busy annoying the shit out of Lo’ak. He left bracelets, earrings, anklets, and necklaces in the place of whatever you left for him.

Hair combs cast aside by others. He picked things off of the sky people’s ship. Stuff that wasn’t interesting to him, but maybe you would like it, and no one would miss it, so there was no harm done.

But, in typical Lo’ak fashion, he grew impatient.

He’d more than proved that he wasn’t a threat, he thought. The trading was fun, and it was exciting to have something to constantly think about. He was always on the lookout for things you might like. But it would be a lot more fun if you would just show yourself and return with him to his home. Then you could find things together, and he wouldn’t feel like an idiot, talking to himself all the time.

With each new trade, his curiosity only intensified.

“I have to know who she is,” Lo’ak explained one day when he dragged Neteyam and Spider out to the site.

“I don’t think she feels the same about you, little brother.”

“You don’t get it.”

Today was the day, he decided that morning. He’d been cooking up a plan. It was his turn to put something in the log, which meant you’d have to come out and get it. Your trades grew more frequent, there was something new every day now.

It was exciting. And frustrating. You were right there, so close to him, and still so far out of reach. He wouldn’t be able to rest until he saw you again, he decided. Then maybe he could let this weird hyper fixation on you and your life go. But he had to have at least one more conversation with you, first.

This trade was valuable. At least, he thought so. Medical supplies his father brought back after visiting his military friends. State-of-the-art gauze and disinfectants and tourniquets.

There’s no way you’d be able to resist coming out to grab it. And when you did, they’d be there, hidden in the foliage.

“And what are you going to do when she comes out?” Neteyam asked. “Catch her in a net? Spring out at her like a predator?”

“No,” Lo’ak countered.

“You haven’t thought that far ahead, have you?”

Spider laughed at that and Lo’ak gave him a look of betrayal. Spider was supposed to be on his side, not Neteyam’s.

“Of course, I have,” he lied. “But we’re getting close, and she could be listening, so no more talking about the plan.”

Neteyam and Spider snickered, though they heeded his request and made a covering of leaves and plants while he grabbed what you’d left for him in the log. A collection of arrows, the nice ones, crafted with care.

A gift for his mother.

He wondered if you’d made them yourself, or found them, or did someone give them to you. Shaking his head when his imagination drifted again, he focused on the task a hand.

Joining his coconspirators under their cover, they shed their knives in a pile behind them. “If we’re covered in weapons when she sees us again, she’ll run.”

“I think she’s going to run anyways.”

They whispered back and forth, arguing for a few moments, before falling silent.

Hours passed.

They each grew restless, dramatically overestimating their ability to be quiet and still for such a long period of time. They gossiped about their family, other members of the Omaticayan tribe, whether a mountain banshee or a hammerhead titanothere would win in a fight.

The original plot was to stay awake through the night.

The three of them fell asleep within a few hours of darkness.

Startled awake by a branch breaking close by, they jerked back into consciousness. Pushing himself up, Lo’ak cursed, abandoning the cover of the leaves, and rushed for the log.

“Wait,” Neteyam hissed after him. “It could be dangerous.”

But Lo’ak didn’t care, peering inside. Blowing out a long sigh, he turned back to his friends, who stood on either side of him, also looking in. “It’s still there.”

Neteyam shook his head and trudged back to the makeshift blind. “This is pointless. We’re not going to catch her.”

Lo’ak lifted his head, looking through the trees ahead. It was dark, the forest alive with bugs chirping and birds fluttering about overhead. Spider placed a hand on his shoulder. “We can try again some other time.”

“Yeah,” Lo’ak replied, but he didn’t bother to hide the disappointment in his voice.

Neteyam’s voice cut through the noise of the woods around them. “Spider, did you grab our knives?”

“No, I just left them where they were, right behind us.”

Another beat of silence, and then Neteyam was laughing. “Well, I think your friend decided to pay us a visit after all.”

Lo’ak and Spider joined him by their camp, staring at the place where their knives used to be.

They were stolen.

Lo'ak froze. Spider joined in the laughter.

“It’s not funny!” Lo’ak snapped, which only caused them to laugh harder. “Shut up! It’s not funny!”

Neteyam nudged him, smiling wide. “She’s smarter than you, bro.”

“Smarter than you, too,” he countered, shoving Neteyam back with a hiss.

Lo’ak couldn’t believe it.

At first, your little game was cute.

Exciting, even.

But now Lo’ak clenched his fists at his side, muscles tense, filled with the urge to break something.

He couldn’t believe this. They turned their backs for one second, again, and you’d struck. He was certain you were watching now, laughing down at him.

Turning over his shoulder, he stomped back over to the log. “Whatever,” he called back to Neteyam and Spider. “I’m taking this back.”

Except, when he reached in to grab the medicine kit, that was gone, too.

“No way,” he drawled, staggering back as if he’d been shocked. When Neteyam and Spider asked him what happened, he was so angry, he didn’t even answer.

Spider reached inside, eyes light with curiosity. “Well, shit." He pulled out two knives.

“She’s fast,” Neteyam remarked, sliding his knife back into his holder. “Don’t worry, skxawng, I’m sure she’ll return yours soon enough.” He and Spider snickered, and Lo’ak decided he had to fight them both.

Even his dad got a kick out of the story. “Seems like you’ve met your match,” he said with a wink, Neytiri hiding a smile behind a sip of her tea.

How could you have gotten the best of them two times in one night, in the span of ten minutes?

His anger fueled him for several days. His sleep was fitful, full of tossing and turning. He ranted about you to everyone who would listen, until even Spider grew tired of him.

“Just let it go, man,” he told Lo’ak one day. “It’s never going to happen.”

And to rub salt in the wound, you stopped trading with him entirely.

For all he knew, the incident with the knives was the last interaction you two would ever have.

The thought devastated him more than it should’ve. How could he be this dejected over someone he’d only had one conversation with? Who had bruised his ego and gotten the best of him several times now?

Time passed. Instead of the gaping wound you used to be, you became a scab he picked at. He occasionally still visited the site but didn’t have much time for it after the sky people returned with a vengeance.

Which is how he ended up with his knees shoved into the wet dirt, a gun pressed to the back of his skull.

“Leave the others here.” Lo’ak guessed this fool was the leader, judging by the way he listed off commands and his spineless cronies followed suit like puppets on a string. He gestured towards Lo’ak with a flippant wave of his hand. “Take that one to the cells.”

“No, Lo’ak,” Kiri gasped, his siblings struggling against their restraints. He fought the panic of being separated from them but could do little to stop it from happening. His parents and Neteyam were on their way, and knowing his mother, he’d be free in an hour.

Lo’ak kept a steady stream of insults flowing as they guided him through the ship, calling the soldiers every name in the book. It didn’t help him, though it did make him feel better, and the guards only grew more violent as they opened the cell and shoved him inside.

He whirled on them, as if he could run out before the door sealed shut, but it was too late. He kicked at the clear door, his hands still restrained in front of him, cursing.

“That’s not going to help.”

The interruption shocked him. He hadn’t noticed anyone else in the cell, distracted by the soldiers that imprisoned him.

But he’d recognize your voice anywhere.

324 notes View Post

ijustwannareblogstuff

3 weeks ago

TAKE YOUR PICK.

wednesday addams x fem!vampire!reader

summary: a werewolf attack leaves you in need of aid, though you find yourself aided in more than just your wounds.

warnings: smut (18+) — slight oral (r receiving), fingering, strap-on referred to as “cock” at one point, slight face-slapping, teasing, dirty talk, virgin!r, withheld orgasm. -> mentions of blood, wounds, werewolf attack, medical equipment, mentions of kidnapping, scarring, and dom!w + sub!r.

word amount: 6900+

a/n: yes you read that right, 6900+ words. i guess i beat you, didn’t i, my ⭐️ anon 😉.

“Our successor greets us with torture by this grouping.” Her words were dull, and as you turned to face her, you were met with her eyes boring into yours. You cocked your head to the side, easily bypassing a tree that would’ve hit anyone else. Your instincts were stressed by your venture into the woods with the murderous woman you labeled your enemy accompanying you.

Your skin itched. Badly. Though you would rather burn in the flames she created than take action for relief, you never dared to let the shorter girl win at her former pleas to have her partner switch, labeling it as having to not deal with your pollen allergy, but everyone knew of your rivalry.

It was no secret after all. You couldn’t count the number of times she tried to assist in your early death, ranging from simple pop-up attacks that your raging instincts guided you with to kidnapping you into the Nightshades library and torturing you—or more so, trying her best to—while reading latin incantations from a book that still scarred your mind to this day.

“You don’t have to tell me.” With your head shifted into it’s former state, staring straight ahead, you expected Wednesday to mirror your action. She hadn’t.

Your eyes darted all around the forest, searching for insects, animals, humans, or anything of the above that would pose a potential life-threat. Unlike Wednesday, you allowed yourself to feel fear because you actually cared for your life.

You and Wednesday were similar, which was the root of your rivalry. She eyed you as a copycat, but you had always been who you were since the day you were born, and nobody could ever change you. You thrived in academics and sports, taking part in three education-related after school clubs as well as fencing, track, and a modernized human sport known as “soccer” to Americans during the summer.

You easily got more praise for your contribution to the school’s image, while Wednesday held the slimy silver medal praising her for being in second place, and her mind raged at the remembrance of it every time. She wanted to be number one above all else, but she could never bypass you. Hell, you even bypassed Bianca Barclay, forming a small rivalry with her when you first arrived at the academy.

“Would you like me to send you a photographed Polaroid of myself with my signature on it, or shall you continue to stare at me and soon trip over a rock?” Wednesday’s eyes furrowed at the end of the sentence, unable to hold back a yelp when she inevitably did fall over a grounded rock and faceplant on the floor.

You halted your movement, turning your head to the side to catch a glimpse of Wednesday rolling herself on her back, a hand over her knee from a wound forming due to her ignorant choice to wear shorts. “We have thirty minutes remaining to collect all we need for our botanical project. I’d suggest you get off the floor.”

Before she could even comprehend what you said, she found herself looking up into your eyes as you towered over her. Once more, you cocked your head to the side, allowing a sly grin to form on your face at the sight of blood dousing her hand from the open wound. “And you tell me I’m the clumsy one?”

“You are.” She shot back immediately, her eyes narrowing at your facial expression of humor. You found humor in her; you always have. It was a key part of your romantic attraction to her, though that aspect had always been locked away as a secret, and your humor lied in her inability to keep up with you.

Whether Wednesday wanted to admit it or not, she had found her challenger. Someone who was undeniably better than her, someone who forced her to work harder to be the one at the top, though she knew secretly she’d always be trapped in second place.

You were better than her, and it annoyed her more than anything in the world. That’s why the discovery of her own attraction toward you scared her—the girl who dared not feel emotion. She blamed it on your well-behaved confidence and that stupid grin you flashed her from day to day.

A grin she wanted to kiss off, she thought once, and she contemplated throwing herself off the balcony in her dorm room when she allowed that sentence to linger in her mind.

You laughed genuinely, your grin growing wider at the sight of Wednesday stumbling to get up, her face crinkling only so slightly at the pain that coursed through the entirety of her leg.

“You’re unfit.” A huff came from her, head flicking up to meet your gaze, eyes lingering on your standstill grin—your pink-lipped mouth—for a second deemed too long before she lunged forward and pushed you aside.

The force of her thrust caused you to stumble back and fall on a pile of leaves, blowing and coughing out a crisp leaf that found it’s home inside your mouth. At the force of her thrust toward you, Wednesday found herself collapsed once more on the floor, her body not correctly stabilized from her injury.

“So, not only are you clumsy, but you’re also an idiot.” You sat yourself upright, hands laid down on the floor behind your body to stabilize yourself, all the while watching the conflict in Wednesday’s eyes over whether she should shoot back or keep quiet.

She kept quiet, eliciting a small, almost unnoticeable groan that Wednesday herself didn’t catch at first. You heard it, though, your grin finding it’s way back onto your face as you practically jumped up, brushing yourself off with a flick of your wrists to your neutral- colored clothing.

You furrowed your eyebrows to see Wednesday still sprawled on the floor, expecting her to have risen up by now, even if a limp tagged along. “The big, challenging girl who fought off the reincarnation of Joseph Crackstone years ago can’t get up because of a wound on her knee.”

You spoke in disbelief, and Wednesday turned her head over to you with might. “Don’t you ever mock my accomplishments.”

“Well, we can’t even accomplish the task of finishing our botanical sciences project if you don’t take your small ass up and off the floor.” You bit back.

Fumed with rage and annoyance due to her growing short temper, Wednesday lunged up at you with all the strength she had in her body. The next second, you found your hands wrapped around her waist as you held her upright from falling again, the girl collapsing into your embrace with a snake-like hiss emitting from her.

Another groan came from her, not even bothering to hide it this time, too preoccupied with the futile stinging of her wound and the warming position she found herself in with you. “Alright, back on the floor.”

Her back met the homing place that was the floor once more, shooting daggers at your inexistent attempt to lay her down carefully, seeing as you dropped her onto the floor without care. Her hand found it’s way back to her knee, coating the skin in blood once more, and you sighed. “Move your hand.”

“No.”

“Since when did you become so stubborn?” She raised her eyebrows at you. “Actually, that’s a dumb question, but I’m not going to ask you again. Addams,” your tone became firm, seriousness rising up amidst your former face of humor, “move your hand.”

Her teeth clenched, jawline protruding out, and her eyes were in their usual wide state, as if she were thinking, but her mind was blank. You found impatience creeping up on you, not daring to alert your eyes to her dark red, bloodied hand from her gushing wound.

With a twitch of your eye, your hand shot forward and clamped on Wednesday’s wrist, pulling it away from her wound with force, and she let out a small whimper that she immediately tried to cover with a cough. Your eyes darted up at her for only a second, having heard it, before looking back down at her wound, which was open and wide.

“I will take you to the Infirmary, and then come back and collect all we need for our project.” You said your plan out loud, your eyes darting back and forth between Wednesday’s open wound and the pathway from which you and the girl had just come. “I am fine. Besides, you would only get all the wrong things we need, seeing as how foolish you are.”

“Foolish is what you claim me to be, yet you’re the one consistently in second place.” Without warning, you sank an arm under her bent knees and another under her back, picking her up in bridal style, to which her eyes drastically widened. You felt her tense under you, muscles contracting, and you groaned.

“Oh, relax. Being tense will only cause your wound to bleed more, and before I know it, I’ll be carrying your dead weight.”

“Put me down this instant.” Wednesday fought, trying to wiggle herself out of your grasp as you started to walk back to the school grounds, leaving your grip on her to tighten. “No. And don’t presume that I care about your wellbeing either, because I don’t.”

She huffed, her leg jerking up when a low branch made contact with her wound. “Then why not allow me to continue with you?”

“If you haven’t noticed, we’re past the forest barriers that Nevermore set.” When she turned her head in response to your signal to the right, she noticed the wooden line fences that were more intended to serve as a signal for students to turn around than as a means of keeping them out.

“Throats get slit in this neck of the woods,” you continued, mindlessly drifting your eyes all over the forest in caution of any inhumane species. “I’d rather not have a Jason Voorhees copycat lunatic trying to slaughter us, and I can’t go far because you’re disabled.”

“It’d be your own death’s fault for trying to save me.” Her deadpanning words made you want to drop her and let her find her own way back to the academy, but you just let out an annoyed breath while gripping onto her thighs tighter. “Forgive me for actually having a beating heart, Addams.”

“You’re not forgiven, (Y/L/N).”

Soon enough, you found yourself back in the forest, with Wednesday’s presence long gone. You were kneeling down, collecting dirt into a small jar that you had sprayed with pesticides to clear it of any lingering bugs. You hadn’t noticed how the time flew past, the sun fading into the moon, and you took a moment to enjoy the stars, hands settled on your dirt-covered knees.

A sound rang through the forested area, causing you to snap your head in the direction of the noise. It was muffled, but it sounded too closely like the howls of the werewolves you’ve grown to make friends with, and that was enough for you to shoot up instantly from your kneeling position. With a sharp breath, you looked up at the moon, now taking on the shape of a full moon, and you gagged in growing fear.

You’re fine, right? They get locked in the Lupen cages; there’s no way one of them could’ve escaped theirs. Your mind raced for explanations as you crouched down to pick up all that you'd collected, ranging from dirt to plants, before taking steady steps in the direction of the academy.

You took precautionary halts so as not to make major noise, cringing in fear at the sound of a leaf loudly crunching under your foot, and you could hear the howls once more, closer this time.

You took another five steps before you could hear the thudding stomps of a figure inching closer to you with every second, and you thanked nothing else but your heightened senses as you dropped all of what you held and booked it.

You dodged tree logs and branches left and right, hands fumbling with your satchel to tear it off your body to release the weight it was holding, and your body shook at the thudding sounds ringing in your ears, inching closer and closer-

Until you woke up, spread out on the floor, and your hands dug around the surface of the floor to help you realize that you were still in the woods. Your body still shook, this time more violently as you gasped in pain, stings shooting all over your body and causing your muscles to tighten.

“Fuck!” You groaned out, clenching your stomach where it hurt the most to feel a liquid coating your skin of the same texture that dripped your hands with Wednesday’s blood hours earlier. Your eyes drooped, sullenly coming to the firm realization that you were bleeding out with a liquid you could not even view properly, the night still too dark.

You blamed it all on a werewolf not properly being contained, but if that was the case, why didn’t they kill you instead of merely injuring you? The thought of the beast not being a werewolf flooded out of your mind quicker than it came in. You could see the outline of large claw slits scarring the skin of your stomach, and you yelled out the most mind-scarring shriek as you forced yourself up.

You moaned out, “Oh,” in pain as you sat yourself on a log, scanning the dark forest for any signs of life, human or not, to which there were none, and you sighed in relief. You took off your jacket first before peeling the shredded, blood-stained white shirt off your body, leaving you with just your bra and an exposed, large wound.

Your eyes closed in despair, feeling the pain dull ever so slightly in your relaxing state. You bent over, to your body’s anguish, to grab your bag with a small first aid kit tucked into it. All the items within the mini-kit were dunked out on the log space beside you, and you hurriedly grabbed multiple anti-septic wipes and shredded open the packaging before pressing them onto your skin.

Fangs bared, eyes darkening at the severe pain, you dug them into your bottom lip and swished the wipes over your wounds before letting out a loud yell of agony. You threw the wipes to the floor when they were all left coated with a dark red, grabbing the bandage roll, and with all of your muscles tightening at the pressure, wrapping your stomach with the bandage that immediately turned red before sealing it with tape.

The aftermath was almost pleasurable; the pain was still there but lessened due to the lack of blood flowing out of you. Managing to stumble up, you discarded your bag on the floor before taking a step forward, your body hunching over immediately from the inability to stand upright, and you carried on in the form of a hunchback.

What Wednesday least expected on an early Saturday morning, 3:30 a.m. to be exact, was the sound of her doorknob snapping off from the door itself. Her eyes perked up, sensing danger, and she immediately dug under her pillow to grab the knife she stored there, pointing it forward with the sharp tip ready to plunge itself into whoever dared to intrude into her and Enid’s dorm.

She had only been released from the hospital a few hours prior, so it seemed as though her knee pain had subsided, but when she put her foot on the ground, it suddenly returned. She ignored the discomfort and advanced toward the opening door, ready to strike.

“Wed-” You threw the door open, stopping immediately when the tip of her knife bore into your throat, one step away from slicing into your carotid artery. Even in the harsh darkness, Wednesday could see the fear and agony in your eyes, the way you were breathing heavily and clutching your stomach, and the skin that your bloodied jacket had now covered.

In the dim light of her bedside lamp, she could see your black jacket with a huge damp spot covering it, clamped over by bloodied hands. Her eyes met yours, and you gulped. “I didn’t know who else to come to.”

Wordlessly, she stepped to the side, inviting you in, which you limped into, and she closed the door. Her hand met your shoulder, an odd warmth coating your body despite her cold figure, and she aided you to the bathroom, choosing to disregard the blood trail you were leaving behind.

A sigh left your mouth as you collapsed on the closed-lidded toilet, leaning all your weight on the material. Wednesday pulled out a medical kit from under the sink, one much bigger than the one you had previously used, and slammed it on the countertop. “So much for not trying to wake up Enid.”

“Do you want me to help you or not? Beside, if you even took a second glance around the room, you’d notice Enid is not here, but in a Lupen cage in form.” She spoke in hushed whispers, and you shut up immediately, shrinking under her gaze. You were better than her, yes, but that didn’t mean you didn’t get scared of her from time to time.

“Take off your jacket.” She said simply, still prepping rounds of wipes with anti-septic liquids on them for your bloodied wound, as the wipes you used earlier did not have much of an effect considering the size of them. Wearily, you zipped down your jacket, peeling it off of you with a grunt or two before throwing it away at the base of the bathtub. You laid yourself back, eyes burning into the side of Wednesday’s face, anticipating her moves.

After she had finished prepping the wipes, she grabbed a sewing kit from under the counter, and you gulped at the largely-sized needles that she pulled out along with them. “All I really needed was for you to clean it, Addams. I’m a vampire; I can self-heal.”

“This is merely a precautionary measure to not leave putrid-looking scars.” She placed the items needed beside you, removing her own jacket, and you noticed how she was still in what she considered “casualwear”, seemingly not changing out of her clothes before drifting off to sleep. “Odd coming from the person who has left me with multiple scars, and why didn’t you change?”

“What?”

Wednesday turned, giving you a full visual of her in a button-up shirt and vest, black slacks tucked in and still belted; sleeping couldn’t have been comfortable for her with a belt digging into her hip. “You’re still in your clothes.” You pointed it out, and she looked down at her choice of fashion before letting out a small huff and advancing toward you, taking up position to the right of you.

“I awaited your presence. I told you before that I wanted to get a start on the project so I would not have to do much with class dealing with you and your miserable antics of getting items confused. Not only do you show up empty-handed in the dead of night, but you are also scarred through your inability to defend yourself.”

She badmouthed you, all the while untangling her sewing needles with harsh movements, but you only focused on one aspect of her words. “You fell asleep waiting for me?”

At once, Wednesday halted her movements, giving you a dead look before turning around and grabbing the large anti-septic wipes, swiftly pushing them into your wounded stomach. You let out a long, loud gasp, groaning at the pain and taking hold of Wednesday’s wrist, trying to push her arm back but to no avail. “Don’t get cocky.”

Your head flew back in agony, your hand still clasped around her wrist with a bruising grip. “I wasn’t! I was asking!”

Wednesday glided the wipes along your scars, to your dismay, until there were little to no signs of blood yet, all the while mindlessly running her eyes over the scars on your body that she created.

It was the only way she could get her mind off your exposed torso and how your muscles gallantly flexed from the pain, unwillingly showing themselves off to her.

Your eyes were squinting, still a bit sore from the antiseptics, but when you noticed that Wednesday had not made any other moves, you let them go from your iron grip. Your gaze landed on her stance, lost in thought. “What?”

"I'm in the process of comprehending an attempt to stitch you together while you remain seated, while I, on the other hand, am standing." Her eyes glanced all around the bathroom, sighing contently as she tried to determine a possible way to play surgeon in a comfortable manner.

“Well, I’m not lying on the floor. Your bed?” You inquired, and Wednesday shook her head, her mind discarded by that thought. “I would like to go to sleep tonight in a bloodless bed.”

“Um,” you gulped. The first real situation droning through your head was one anybody wouldn’t dare share with Wednesday. It's a good thing you weren’t like anybody else. “Sit on me.”

Her head snapped to meet your eyes, yours innocently boring into hers, and she squinted. “What?”

“Sit on my lap. When I lean back, you’ll be able to stitch me up or... whatever it is that you plan on doing without breaking your spine.”

You could see the conflict in her eyes, and she took it into consideration, to your surprise. With a pinch to the bridge of her nose and a long, elated sigh, as a means of balance, she placed her hands on each of your shoulders before swinging her left leg over your body and sitting down on your firmly closed legs.

“Tell nobody about this, or more of these scars,” she said, pinching down on a drawn out scar that sat just right under your bra, “will litter your skin.” You gave her a hasty nod, eager to put your mind elsewhere while your sworn enemy found a seat on your lap.

Without a word of warning, she dug the needle into your skin, causing you to let out an embarrassingly loud yelp of pain. Your hands flew to her shoulders as a matter of instinct, and you half-expected her to shrug them off, but she prioritized her sewing techniques instead.

The further she got into sewing the deep claw marks, the tighter your hands gripped her shoulders. You’d be surprised if Wednesday woke up bruise-free, as you could almost feel your knuckles turning white.

Wednesday found... amusement? The way your eyes closed at her stinging touch, the way your hands buried themselves into her shoulders, and how your thigh muscles tightened under her ass with every swift movement. She loved seeing you defenseless and submissive to her more than anything, finding profit in the means of mocking you later on if you tried to boast about your betterness.

When she had finally finished her stitching, she found herself still lingering on your lap, her movements awfully slow, even for her, to grab a couple large medical bandages and place them over her work.

“Stay here.” Her voice was low while she slid off your lap, turning to leave the bathroom before returning a minute later with a baggy jacket in her hands. Your eyebrows furrowed as she laid the fabric on your lap, turning to wash her hands of any remaining blood.

You had a little trouble donning the jacket, which was made of Wednesday's fashion choice's baggy material but looked a little more fitted on you because of your lean frame. Your wounds, formerly the only thing clouding your mind, were long gone. You focused on the seriousness of your enemy’s actions, and the oddly warm jacket filled with her natural scent that was now clinging to your body.

“Why?”

“What?”

“When I came here, I fully expected you to push me away.” You leaned your body up on the toilet, hands running through your disheveled hair, and Wednesday directed her attention toward you. “But you didn’t, for some odd reason, and actually helped me—hell, you even sat on me—when you’ve been nothing but the cause of my terror ever since I’ve arrived at this academy.”

It was all nothing but the truth. Two years have passed since you made your flaunting arrival at Nevermore, head held high with nothing else on your mind other than the determination to be the best student the academy had ever seen, and so you accomplished it. Two years had passed since you crossed paths with the deadly Wednesday Addams, her mind still fresh from her praiseful battle with the former overtaker of Jericho.

Two years passed since you beat Wednesday’s boat in the Poe Cup; the Black Cats determined to win their second trophy in a row, and she swore you as her enemy that day when her eyes laid upon your smirking frame with the golden cup in your hand, sending her a wink of confidence that she mentally fumed at.

Two years had passed since Wednesday Addams made the dreadful discovery that, after all, her black, unbeating heart could feel love but that her taste was awful if she found herself attracted to her enemy. Now she found herself in the middle of her last year at Nevermore, freshly 19, and still rummaging in a cat-dog chase game with you.

Two years had passed since she found herself focused on nothing but her enemy, who was in front of her now, sitting on the toilet seat in her bathroom, all patched up, and looking at her with curiosity. “Are you going to continue to stare at me or answer my question?”

“I’m not required to reply to any of your inquiries.” Swiftly, she made her exit out of the bathroom, leaving you to stumble up on your feet and follow behind her like a lost pup. Your body felt awfully tired, though your mind was wide awake and racing with multiple thoughts at once, overloading and ready to explode any second.

“Add-”

“I’ve patched you up,” She moved to close the door to her closet, and in a rut of refusal to make eye contact with you, solemnly afraid that she’d instantly jump your bones- what? “So you may leave now.”

“I’m not leaving until you’ll answer my ‘inquiry’ on why you were nice, at least in my books, to me. You’re avoiding the question.”

You could see the clench in Wednesday’s jaw as she made her way over to her desk, tidying up the workplace in an attempt to distract herself from the conversation that lingered. “I’m unsure as to what you’re saying.”

“Addams-”

“Leave before I do something I’ll regret, (Y/L/N).” She snapped, finally meeting your gaze with wide eyes, and you furrowed your eyebrows. “Since when have you ever regretted something that included me? Did you not tie me to a tree on a full moon and bait me to the werewolves last year?”

Her eyes closed in annoyance. “That’s not what I mean.” And as she rubbed her face, you could almost feel the mixture of stress and uncertainty in her stance, almost as if she were holding back from something.

“Then what do you mean? I’ve known you for two years, and you’ve never failed to reply to me with a full sentence, whether it’s answering my question or barking out a snarky remark. Tell me what’s changed in tha-”

Your eyes were opening and closing rapidly in stress, causing you to not register Wednesday’s frame hurriedly marking toward you until you felt a body collapse into you and a smooth substance on your lips.

Huh?!

Your eyes shot open and wide. To confirm your suspicions, Wednesday’s arms were thrown over your shoulder while her body leaned into yours, and her lips smashed against yours almost desperately.

That’s what she presumed to regret.

But it was something you longed for, unbeknownst to her, and you made it known when your hands found their way to her cheeks, pulling her in deeper. You could feel her lips tremble slightly in shock, unprepared for you to be pulling her closer instead of pushing her away.

Wednesday’s legs grew a mind of their own, taking steps forward and causing you to step back until the backs of your knees met her bed, and she tore her lips away from you for a breather. You took the separation as an opportunity to sit yourself down on her bed, all while your eyes never left hers in the process, and the smaller girl hurriedly found her former position on your lap.

“The moon is fading. Enid could come back any minute now.” You spoke between kisses, shivering at Wednesday’s cold touch on your warm skin, her hands slithering underneath the jacket you wore to rub up and down your back. “Then she’ll leave again, because she’s not going to enjoy what she’ll see.”

Your body visibly shivered at her words, or maybe it was just her fingers dancing along your spine, but either way, you found yourself completely engulfed in her and just her. The claw marks, the time, the physical confession—all of it was gone from your mind as Wednesday mindlessly pushed herself even farther into you.

She took a push too close, her body pressing up against your wound, causing you to groan and bite down on her bottom lip, fangs bared from the pain. Your lips never separated, instead pushing farther into them at the feeling and taste of Wednesday’s blood filling your mouths from her punctures, only spurring the two of you further.

“Lay down.” You obeyed immediately, finding nothing more hot in the moment than the husk in the smaller girl's voice, and manuevered from under her plushy thighs on top of you to lay comfortably on her bed. You were engulfed in her natural scent once more—the same scent you had grown accustomed to for over two years now, the scent that followed you everywhere you went.

You adored it, just as you adored her behind your hardening gaze most days.

Her eyes were narrowed, and you would have thought she was tired any other day, but you knew her look was one of need and want. Lust, to put it short, and you wanted nothing more than to fulfill her need, even if it meant submitting yourself to her in a situation you'd never thought you’d willingly put yourself in.

Just as she had earlier, she slid off your lap with a lingering touch on your hips. “Stay here.”

And as quickly as she left, she returned, though this time with an item in her hand, and you knew exactly what it was. Your eyes widened, and your mouth drew open. Already?

“Yes, already.” Did you say that out loud? “You’d find me pathetic if you knew how long I have deferred using this. To use it on you.” Her eyes were filled with a dark, unmanageable lust that swam through her veins, and you could only imagine the scenarios that swarmed through your head. This wasn’t the Wednesday you knew, but it was one you anticipated figuring out.

“But I can’t just use this on you immediately, no.” A smug grin came across her lips—a sight that you, or really anybody else, rarely ever saw, and it was one you wanted to see more of. “No, I have to prep you, don’t I?”

“Prep me?” You asked, genuine curiosity lacing your voice, and her grin grew wider. “I’ll show you.”

Wednesday positioned herself back on your lap, putting the erotic object on her nightstand, within reach for later use, before pulling you into another kiss. It was bruising, and the kiss was ten times more harsh than before, but you would never complain about her being pressed up against you.

While you found yourself entrapped in her lips, her hands slithered down your body and toward your pants, grabbing the buckle of your belt and undoing it at a steady pace. That’s when it dawned on you—she was going to prep you for an object that withheld some... girth.

Your muscles tensed at the thought, and more so at the feeling of Wednesday pulling down your black jeans with ease, discarding your shoes in the process of leaving your bottom half in just your underwear. “Wednesday…”

She was simple. “Relax.”

On the down low, she knew that this was your first time engaging with somebody sexually, never failing to notice your soft rejections of the girls and guys that tried to woo you on and failed miserably. It was an aspect she enjoyed even more now, and she wanted nothing more than to rub in the faces of all you rejected that they couldn’t get you to agree to a date, but yet she had you writhing underneath her, moaning her name.

Your breathing grew heavier as the seconds went by, hitching when Wednesday moved your underwear to the side with a slow itch of her hands, and you wanted nothing more than to grab her by the head and bury her in your heat. The lack of restraint you were feeling was lethal and ultimately surprising for a girl who rarely ever even masturbated.

“Such a possessing view.” She murmured in a low tone, her eyes dancing all around your core, and your cheeks flushed at her staring. Her eyes locked with yours, her mind racing at the sight of your eyes narrowed and staring down at her with silent pleads, and those pleads she fulfilled when her tongue darted out to take a swipe at your folds.

You whimpered in a tone around an octave higher than your usual voice, and your eyes widened at the sound that unwillingly left your mouth. It seemed to spur Wednesday on, allowing her to dart her tongue out once more and flick it over your clit, the nub that she wanted nothing more than to swell up with her mouth.

You let out another whimper—louder and needier this time around. “And sensitive. I can put that to use.” She dove her head farther into your heat, her lips wrapping around your clit and taking a harsh suck at the nub. Your thighs shut around her head, eyes never leaving one another, while she feverishly sucked your clit, needing to hear more of the high-pitched whines that left your mouth.

She pulled away soon after, to your dismay that you showed through your pleading whines, to allow a bead of spit to drip out of her mouth and onto your entrance, before taking her finger and rubbing her spit around the area. Your hips instinctively bucked up at the sensation, feeling yourself clench around nothing, and it made Wednesday want to elicit a laugh.

“The way I’m touching you now is a major privilege alone.” Her finger sank into your entrance, and she bit down lightly at the plushness of your thighs when she felt your velvety walls tighten around her. “I adore watching you like this underneath me; you make me want to fuck you braindead.”

She sank her finger into you until her knuckle bared against your heat, curling the bony stature inside of you and eliciting a light moan out of you. You already found yourself on edge from her husky words alone, and the curl of her finger inside of you didn’t help you from almost cumming embarrassingly fast.

“Already close? What a shame; I wanted to have fun toying with you.” Her mouth against her core made you moan from the vibrations, hands flying to grip her head menacingly and push her farther into you, almost crying out for the whole hall to hear when she slipped a second finger into you.

Her fingers picked up pace, thrusting in and out of you with force while the squelching sounds of your slick covering your walls made Wednesday feel a pit of need start to boil in her stomach, one that she desired to fulfill.

The two-on-two action on your core made you clench impossibly tight on Wednesday’s fingers, the ravenhead finding difficulty in her repeated movements. “Want to cum, yeah?”

You nodded profusely, your face growing red from your need for release and the way she released her lips from your clit with a pop. A small grin formed on her face when she pulled out of you, relishing in your whines of despair.

Eyes closed, heavy breathing—you were too blissed out, despite not achieving an orgasm from her underlying teasing, to notice Wednesday sliding off you, strapping the former item in her hand to her core. Her eyes never left your face as she strapped the item on, feeling more than fired up to make you scratch down her back with pitiful whines leaving your mouth.

And so, that’s what she achieved, eyes closing from the burning pains of your nails digging deep into her shoulders down to the middle of her back. Her own mind felt foggy watching the way her silicone became drenched in your arousal, the strap pumping in and out of you with ease, and the way you moaned straight into her ear—god, she regretted never taking your submissive state for profit more early.

Your thighs clenched around her hips when she bottomed into you, settled on her knees, and bent over slightly to curl the strap inside of you, hitting an unfamiliar spongy spot that had you sinfully whining with a hand clenched on Wednesday’s head. “If the entirety of humanity could merely glimpse you in your current state, they would swiftly recognize your rare moment of submissiveness,” her lips dove down, meeting your ear, “all submissive just for me.”

Her movements grew hard, her hands gripping your skin with a bruising force while her hips drove into you with no relent, finding a need for her own release. The so-called “devil” found herself groaning heavy breaths into your ear, all the while slipping a soft moan or two in that she couldn’t hold. The feeling of you finally beneath her, pleading and scratching at her for release, felt ethereal; all of her senses were on cloud nine, and it ignited a burrowed-down spark.

One of Wednesday’s hands removed from your skin, leaving behind darkened marks that would worsen with time to connect with your cheek, the slap making you roll your eyes back at how dirty it felt. “No connected nerves, and I can still feel you pulsating on me; you’re driving me crazy with it.”

Your moans were muffled at the feeling of the ravenhead’s fingers shoving deep into your mouth, bypassing your uvula, causing a gag to ensue. Your lips wrapped around the digits, absentmindedly biting on them when the pit in your stomach started to burn like wildfire, making you tighten around the raven’s strap and force her to slow her movements, though still managing a speedy pace.

“Don’t cum.”

The words you wished never left her mouth made you whine around her fingers; your body was too sensitive from your lack of sexual activity and masturbation over the years, making it almost impossible to fight your orgasm off. Her fingers briefly exited your mouth, only to slap your cheek once more before returning to their original location. “Just for a bit.”

The hold-off was tortuous; the muscles in your body tightened incredulously while your mouth pathetically sucked on Wednesday’s fingers in a pathetic attempt to tear your mind away from your orgasm. It didn’t work.

The overloading, burning sensation in your stomach was almost uncomfortable; the fire burned longer than it intended to while you made putrid eye contact with the roof, Wednesday’s head snug to the side of yours while she drew herself closer to her own orgasm. The words that made you sigh in relief, your body shaking after seconds of torture, finally came past the girl’s lips, and you adored them.

“Cum for me, la mia dolce metà.”

You obeyed immediately, allowing your muscles to untighten, and Wednesday’s fingers left your mouth, allowing you to spew out a large moan that, without a doubt, woke the entire hall up. Your hands dug into her shoulders, feeling her shudder over you from her own orgasm, though the only thing that left her mouth was heavy pants.

Alas, she pulled out of you after seconds of relishing in one another’s embrace, making you feel empty compared to just minutes ago. The tip of Wednesday’s cock directed to your swollen clit from her previous oral actions, pushing down with enough pressure to make your toes curl and a breathy sigh leave your mouth.

Wednesday had pulled herself up by now, and it was only then that you noticed the girl taking a mental screenshot of your body, more specifically your core and the way your cum leaked out of you at a snail's pace. She licked her lips at the sight, her eyes flickering up to meet yours, and you gulped.

“La mia dolce metà,” she whispered, hands running down your body and to your hips, “I’m not done with you just yet.” The edges of her lips tugged ever so slightly when she dipped her head down to meet your core, leaving you to moan with delight as your hand found it’s way back to her hair.

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ijustwannareblogstuff

2 years ago

PRETTY WHEN I CRY ⸺ neteyam !

synopsis :: to him, you look ethereal. sculpted by the sky itself, skin gilded with ivory specks, he is suddenly overcome with the urge to uproot his eyes; just so that your face would be the last he commits to memory.

pairing :: neteyam sully / f!omatikaya!reader

author’s note .ᐟ me when i. me when i cannot shortly elaborate on an idea in under 1k words. physically incapable of it actually. this is littered w references btw so lmk if u catch any! angsty as hell yall im sorry.. based on this post😋 ps. listen to pretty when u cry/tunnel under ocean blvd, thats what i did <3

content warning :: mature

word count :: 4.1k

general tags :: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, no happy ending (mayhaps ?? open to interpretation), suggestive themes, aged up characters, goodbyes🫂

“No… what? No, you— you cannot just leave.”

There is a certain knot deep inside your chest, slowly but steadily clawing its way upwards your throat. It’s dizzying, it’s suffocating, and entirely disarming; frantic eyes sweep back and forth between the boy in front of you and the forest wall behind him. In disbelief, maybe. Denial, perhaps, of the all-consuming dread of knowing the inevitable.

Keep reading

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ijustwannareblogstuff

1 year ago

house of balloons, elliot x reader

synopsis: at a frat party, you fall right into elliot's mysterious and enticing web, and both of you share two desires: sex, and drugs—a recipe for disaster. warning(s): smut (minors dni!!!), college!au, frat boy!elliot, canon ages (over 18), mentions of drug use (c*caine), sexual acts, intoxication, masturbation (fem receiving), praise kink author's note: i think this is one of my favorite imagines... and if the smut sucks i'm sorry x. it's my first time writing it, give me a break. not proofread. wc: 1.6k

Partying was the only way you knew how to take your mind off of the series of woeful ordeals that seemed to always happen to you. Your other remedies? Drugs and sex. To be frank, you couldn’t have one without the other.

When Maddy extended her invitation to tag along with her and her friends to a frat party, you couldn’t help but enthusiastically accept. You partied with them before and enjoyed yourself, so you figured it wouldn’t hurt to join them once again.

Now here you were, occupying a spot on the wall, sipping your drink and scoping the scene. The house was packed with intoxicated college students in their twenty-somethings, dancing the night away knowing that the following morning they have classes to attend.

That was the beauty of university. The fact that if you needed to let loose, you could garner the right connections and ditch your sorrows for the night then bury them.

Maddy and Cassie were singing their hearts to the song blasting on the speakers on top of the table, catching everyone’s attention. The crowd surrounding them was singing along. Until the DJ abruptly switched the song. It was then you realized quickly what you didn’t like about frat parties, you loathed the music they played.

The song was so bad that you quickly pushed yourself off the wall and tried to find the nearest empty bedroom. Clutching your cup, you squeeze you past the living room and snuck into the foyer. A DO NOT ENTER sign was plastered on the glass door that separated the rooms, bolded and in red ink.

Ignoring the sign and quickly glancing around you, you slowly opened the door, and tip-toed through and into the foyer. It was much quieter now that you moved away from the speakers. Your curiosity peaked once you noticed the spiral stairwell, so you walked near the steps and went up to explore the rest of the house.

There were so many rooms in one hallway, you couldn’t pick, but you settled on the third to the right. You didn’t hear any noise when you pressed your ear against the door, and you assumed it’d be safe to go in.

It was a typical college boy’s bedroom, nothing really out of the ordinary. Cartoon posters, and basketball jerseys on plaques hanging above the king-size bed. The desk was piled with textbooks and loose pieces of paper, as well as other miscellaneous office supplies. And although the desk was messy, the floor of the room was surprisingly clean, almost as if the owner regularly cleaned it.

A clean frat boy is, without a doubt, a rare occurrence.

You became so entranced with examining this random person’s bedroom that you hardly noticed the toilet in the connecting bathroom flush. You jump as a figure emerges from the bathroom, and you are met with his slightly startled brown eyes and dirty-blonde outgrown hair.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked

“Who the fuck are you?” you quickly rebuttal. You realized it was a stupid question to ask, considering that he may or may not be the owner of this room and you invaded it, but you were drunk and high off of two whole blunts. Everything from when you finished your last cup to now was hazy, but not enough to lead you completely incoherent.

“You’re in my room, you’re not even supposed to go past the sign on the door.”

“I’m aware,” you reply, trekking towards his bed and plopping on the edge, “The music sucked so I wanted to get away.”

“You could've gone outside,” he furrowed his brows at you while you ran your hands on the bed.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t…” your voice trailed off as your gaze diverted from the little doodles you were drawing on his blanket and up at his. It didn’t take long for you to notice how dilated his pupils were.

You shot up off the bed and walked closer to him, “You happen to know anybody that can hook me up?”

His eyes stayed on yours as you approached them, and his face went from confused to perplexed at the drop of a hat. A slight smirk ticked at the corner of your lip and you knew you had hit the jackpot.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, looking off to the side with a small grin.

You playfully rolled your eyes, “Oh come on, you can’t fool me. I know a plug when I see one.”

His eyes widened shockingly and chuckled at your comment, “Wow, now I’m being profiled by the random girl who snuck into my room asking for drugs?”

“Wow, now I’m being judged by the boy pretending not to be a drug dealer?” you playfully shot back at him, with a tilt in your head and crossing your arms.

Another laugh escaped both his and your lips and you spun on your feet and went back to glancing around the room, “Your room is nice… typical… but nice. And your blanket is fun to draw on.”

“Thanks, random girl who snuck into my room.” you could hear his shoes tapping against the wood floor as he followed you, supposedly making sure you didn’t find what you were looking for.

But apparently, this man could read minds, because when you turned back around he was staring at you with a tight-lipped smile on his face and waving a baggy of white powder in the air, “Is this what you’re looking for.”

You narrowed your brows at him and hummed, “Perhaps… perhaps it is.”

He inched closer to you, a little too close, and toyed with the baggie near your face, “You’re cute.” Was all he said after running the bag across your lips and then walking back toward the bathroom.

“Just cute? Not hot, sexy, beautiful, gorgeous, stunning,” you trailed off.

“Hot? Nobody says that anymore.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “I do,” You looked around for the bathroom and went inside, watching as he swiftly snorted a line off of the counter, “That was hot.”

He skimmed up at you with a smirk, “Want some?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” you said, entering the bathroom, not breaking the contact that you made with his eyes. They were seductive. Enticing, even. Just the mere glance was enough to send you over the edge. But you kept your composure, breaking the contact when you peeked down at the line that he cut just for you.

A smile etched your face as you plugged your right nostril with your freshly manicured nails, leaned lower toward the countertop, and snorted the contents through your other nostril.

The rush hit your body almost instantly, sending eclectic waves up and down your spine. The feeling was entirely too euphoric to explain, but you knew that you had snorted quality cocaine.

You turned around and glanced at yourself in the mirror, disregarding him leaning in the doorway, just watching you, “You’re creeping me out, boy with no name.”

“Elliot.” He muttered, still watching you.

You spun around and leaned against the counter, “Thanks for the coke, Elliot.”

The room fell silent, all that could be heard was the slight thumping against the floor from the loud music playing downstairs. You were enjoying this quiet, yet awkward sexual tension that filled the air.

It was confusing because the silence normally wouldn't weird you out enough to leave, but for some reason, this silence was reeling you in a different direction. A direction that made your body hot and steamy, waiting for him to touch you with his ring-stacked fingers.

That was put to a halt when your vision started drifting elsewhere and you felt his body moving closer to yours, “I guess we’re skipping the formalities,” you mumbled as he cupped your behind and placed you on top of the counter.

His lips softly connected with the flesh on your neck, “I guess so.” He placed kisses along your jawline and then met your lips. You threw your arms on his shoulders and allowed his hands to roam free along the lower half of your body.

He kissed you with so much passion, that you would've thought you were the love of his life and not a random girl in search of drugs like he had said before.

His hand abruptly latched on the hem of your skirt and slowly pulled it down, but his lips never met yours. You noticed that he was a really good kisser. Good enough to make you mewl when he nibbled on your bottom lip.

His fingers danced along your sides, then between your thighs. He took his thumb and began rubbing on your bud through your panties, causing your breathing to hitch. You leaned your body back against the mirror and watched as he began picking up the pace.

He continued to rub circles on your clit and lifted his free hand to your chin, “Look at me, okay?”

You responded with a nod and a pleasurable moan. You tried to keep your eyes on his but as he continued to go faster and faster, you could feel your legs start to quiver.

“Damn, your moans are cute too,” He said with a smile on his face, “And the face you make when you’re about to cum.”

You felt it coming. You knew it was coming. The closer it was the more your head started to loll backwards.

“I’m about to–”

“I know, baby,” he cut you off and sped up the circular motions his fingers were making on your sensitive bud, “You can cum. Go ahead, be a good girl, and cum for me.”

And just like that, you became undone against his ringed fingers and breathing heavily. Elliot licked his fingers clean and then pulled you off the counter and engulfed you in a tongue-filled kiss.

“I don’t even know your name,” he said when you broke the kiss.

“You don’t have to.”

WASSUP BULLET

WARNINGS: MATURE CONTENT, DRINKING

——

“I’m not talkin’ to you O’Conner . Matter of fact. How did you find me. Wait — I don’t wanna know,” Carson rolled her eyes, as she took another sip of her drink. “You’re a cop right? That’s just professional stalkin’.”

“I told you I quit,” Brian said, sitting down with a corona in hand.

They were currently at one of Tej’s cribs, everyone had vacated apart from them, something Brian manufactured. They were sitting on opposite ends of an L-shaped leather couch. The lights were dim and slow Jams played in the through the room.

“But you went back, workin’ undercover ‘cause they’re on your ass and now you’re stuck doin’ shit you don’t wanna do.” She pointed out, rolling her eyes at his shocked expression. “Your friend told me.”

“Dammit Roman,” he cursed, facing her with apprehension, “It’s not what you think.”

Carson shrugged, “You’re a cop O’Conner. You’re a liar, you lied to me, and I don’t even know why I’m sayin’ this to you. Leave, so I can get back to drinkin’”

He dismissed what she said, and leaned forward on his knees, “Why are you drinkin’? I thought Pink Gin was your favourite.”

Carson was drinking a Corona as well, something he never thought to see.

She tensed, “Things change people change.”

“You haven’t changed,” he shook his head.

“I had to. Repeatin’ mistakes is kinda my thing. Fall for bad men, liars, manipulators… I had to change so it doesn’t happen again. It can’t happen again.”

She wasn’t wearing her infamous pink clothes. She pulled off black effortlessly, but it wasn’t her. He knew that.

“You’re smart Carson, you have a big heart,” he said.

“Don’t pretend that you know me,” Carson scoffed.

“I love you.” That’s how I know you.

“Ewww, stop. Go. I don’t need to hear this bullshit,” she grimaced.

Brian sighed, “It’s not bullshit. I wouldn’t lie about that. Ever.”

“Sure,” she said wryly, side eying him when he seemed to shift closer.

“I’ll prove it to you.”

“No you won’t ‘cause I know you.”

“You do. All those shitty things I did, hurt you. But you know that I could take it back in a heartbeat.” He said, so sure of himself. “But I’ll prove it to you. This to you. Let’s play a game.”

“No,” she took a swig of her drink and averted her gaze.

“A drinkin’ game. You answer the question, I drink. You don’t answer, you take an item of clothin’ off.”

Her eyes widened, “You’re sick.”

“What do you have to lose?”

“Nothin’ thanks to you.” She retorted, his face stilled.

He cleared his throat, “Let me make it —“

“— up to me. I know.” She groaned, realising he wasn’t gonna leave her alone. She doubt he ever would. “Fine. Hearin’ your voice is more bearable when I’m drinkin’.” She mockingly gestured to him, “Ladies first, you start.”

His stupid grin made her roll her eyes again.

“Do you still love me?” He asked, gaze trained on her, waiting an answer.

“Really?”

“Yes really.”

Brian suppressed a sigh when she didn’t answer but let his eyes wonder as she peeled off her shirt. Red lace caught his attention, the detailed bra he couldn’t help but fixate on.

“My eyes are up here.”

His eyes flickered up, to see her slightly glare, “I know. Your turn.”

She clicked her tongue before asking, “Have you hooked up with anyone since me?”

“No,” he didn’t hesitate.

She laughed, “Liar.”

Brian rolled his shoulders back, adding on, “I’ve tried. To get over you. But all I could think about was you.”

Carson begrudgingly took a sip of her drink realising he was telling the truth. She wasn’t how to take it, sure, it was a compliment or at least she thought it was. But he also wanted to forget her, get over her with various women.

“Have you hooked up with anyone since me?” Brian asked, maintaining eye contact.

“Yes.”

He clenched his jaw at the blatant lie, “Don’t lie to me Carson.”

“Fine no.” Brian grinned against his drink as he took a sip. “Shut up.”

“Lyin’ should mean you should take somethin’ else off…”he trailed off.

She quirked a brow, “You just wanna get me naked.”

He would never say no to that, “I want you. I can’t deny that Sonny.”

“Don’t call me that. And fine. The games the game, I’ll take somethin’ off.” Her shoes came off. “And now that’s three. This is unfair.”

“The game is the game.”

She scoffed, “Ugh, I shouldn’t have agreed for this.”

“Fine look.” Brian stripped off his top, amused that her eyes flickered to his chest. “Come closer.”

“What? No,” her nose scrunched up.

“You scared?” He teased.

“No.” She reluctantly shifted closer, not wanting to give him any satisfaction, “now drink.”

Brian took an another swig, before taking off his converse sneakers.

“You didn’t have to…” she trailed off.

“I know,” He nodded.

Two more bottles were opened, their words started to slur and bodies relaxed. Carson preferred to strip than be honest, Brian just liked taking off his clothes.

“Do you want to go?” He asked, staring into her eyes.

“No.” It was the alcohol talking, she told me herself. “Do you want to stay?”

“No,” he answered cheekily.

“Liar.”

Brian stripped down to his boxers and socks.

“You did that on purpose,” Carson accused, taking an unnecessary sip.

Both of them ended up drinking more. One bottle turned to two.

“You miss me,” he said.

She took of her skirt and socks, leaving her in her red underwear.

He was practically drooling.

“You want me,” she stated.

Brian took off his socks as if he didn’t want to scream ‘yes’ at the top of his lungs.

“You love me.”

Carson stilled, before unclipping the back of her bra, letting it drop to her lap, before pushing it onto the floor.

Brian’s eyed her hungrily, senselessly shuffling closer.

“What was it that I did to you, that had you so horny?” She groaned at the question, despite the goosebumps rising all over her body. “Come on, tell me. Our secret.” He gestured between them, “Was it the neck kisses? I know how much you loved them.” His eyes were hungry with lust. “Or just me going down on you in public?”

“Brian.”

“You called me Brian,” he grinned. She had been calling him O’Conner all day, to prove a point and he was sick of it.

“That’s your name genius,” she sassed.

“Answer the question. You don’t. You still have a lot of clothes left to take off.” A thong was hardly anything, which is exactly why he wanted them gone. “Was it when I gripped your thigh when I was drivin’? Or stared at you and nothing else when I was speedin’?” Her breath hitched when she caught the veins in his hands. “Remember when you told me to pull over and just jumped on me.”

“I did not jump on you,” that caused him to lean closer, face contorting as he lifted a hand to lightly brush over her face, making her squirm in her seat.

“Rode me so hard, I forgot my own name.” He said lowly, “Come on tell me, baby.” He licked his lips, drawing her heated gaze. “What about me did you miss so much? That you couldn’t let someone else touch you ‘cause it wouldn’t be the same. I know what it was about you.”

“What was it?” She asked quietly.

“I’ll tell you when you sit on my lap.”

He thought he would be met with an argument, a fuss, but she slid across so easily, straddling his lap as he caressed her waist.

“You wanted this all along,” she tsked, playfully shaking her head.

“Never stopped,” he said, dipping his down to kiss each of her breasts, emitting a small ‘fuck’ from the Baker Driver. “That’s what I missed. The moans. No one sounds like you. No is better than you,” he groaned when she started to move against him, grazing his hardened state as she grinded against him. “That’s it, good girl.”

“We shouldn’t.” She said breathily.

He tugged her closer, “We should.”

“Suki’ll be back soon.”

“Then we’ll have to be quick.”

“You were never quick,” she whimpered.

“And you’re never quiet baby, just keep moving like that.” He guided her hips. He was painfully hard. “Shit. I’ve missed you. Just like that.”

She bit down on her bottom lip, “Just like that.”

“You just had to wear this red number didn’t you?” His fingers briefly trailed over her thong.

A small giggle escaped her, “Prefer it to pink?”

“Nothing will beat pink on you. But this, shit.”

Their lips finally met in a lustful frenzy. She gripped his hair, whilst pulling his boxers down, and the next they knew his dick was freed. He slid it under her, pulling her hips back down and moving her thong to the side. At the sensation of his dick rubbing her slit, she threw her head back with a whine. Desire roared through her like a bullet.

She was dripping against him.

Carson’s head tilted back as she rolled her hips.

His hands moved to grip her ass, encouraging her to keep riding him. All she could feel was him. All she wanted to feel was him. Gasps and moans slipped from her as she allowed herself to be overtaken and drawn into an ocean of pleasure. She could feel herself rising higher and higher, riding the wave. Her mind was becoming delirious from the fire in her veins and the motion of her hips rocking over his exposed dick.

“That’s it.” Brian grunted, he couldn’t look away, thrusting against her making her back arch. “And you wanted to lie and say you didn’t miss me, huh,” He licked a scalding line up her sternum, only to swirl his tongue around one of her nipples, making her cry out. "Come, baby."

She chanted. "Please."

He watched her unashamedly as her orgasm hit her. Her lips parted, eyes closed and head thrown back, mewing loudly. After her euphoric wave washed over, Brian’s thrust staggered, before he retracted his dick and spurting onto her stomach.

“Fuck.”

Ragged breaths escaped her as she stared at him, struggling for breath.

Seconds passed when Brian thought regret seeped through, but she instead, gently palmed his cheek, bashfully and drunkenly smiling at him before drawing him into a sweet kiss.

He whispered, “Let’s go to my place, we can continue this there.”

——

a/n:

thank you for the request, took me a while to figure out what I wanted to do. Alcohol and feelings shouldn’t mix!

Can You Make A Smutty 1shot That Lead 2 The ‘drunkenly Mistake’ Pls

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ijustwannareblogstuff

3 years ago

red lipstick | rc

| pairing: (non canon) rafe cameron x female reader

| genre: fluff, college rafe, halloween fic

| content warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol/drinking, mentions of food, a few tears

| précis: you get your boyfriend to dress up with you.

| word count: 1,512

You could barely believe it yourself when your boyfriend agreed to coordinate costumes with you.

Well, scratch that—you could believe it, but it was the particular costume you’d chosen that he agreed to—that shocked you.

Keep reading

Thigh Riding

Summary: Wally in his little shorts just does something to you. Leading to you drooling over his thighs. You ask to ride his thigh and he can't deny you especially when you ask so nicely.

Author Note: This gif inspired this entire thing. His slutty little shorts are everything.

NSFW. 18+

Wally Clark knew what he was doing when he said you should have a pool day. You’d found Rhonda and Charlie lounging on the bleachers and Wally was floating around on an inner tube. You walked to the edge of the pool sitting and letting your feet hang in the water. You were so glad you had found some cute sunglasses in the lost and found that hid your gaze.

Your eyes hadn’t left Wally’s thick thighs in his slutty little gym shorts. He looked absolutely delectable. Your mind couldn’t help but wander how nice it would feel to ride them. The thought alone had you wet. Had you somehow gotten hornier in death? Or was it just the himbo jock that brought it out in you?

Wally looked over at you with a smile. “You coming in or are you gonna be boring like those two?” He motioned to Rhonda and Charlie earning a middle finger from Rhonda. You laughed at their interaction and stood up shimmying out of your skirt. Your band tee hitting the floor shortly after.

Wally almost swallowed his tongue at the sight of you in your little black lacy bra and panties. His mouth watered at your plush thighs and his cock twitched at your breast spilling slightly over the top of your bra. He didn’t know what he did in life to deserve this but damn he was happy about it.

You walked down the steps into the pool goosebumps erupting onto your skin. You pulled the claw clip from your hair letting your curls free. You slowly made your way to Wally the pool getting deep enough that you had to tiptoe to him. You rested your hands on his inner tube and let your legs float to the surface behind you. You rested your chin next to Wally’s arm relaxing into the water.

“Where’d you get those shades?” Wally questioned stealing them from your face to examine them. “The lost and found. Where else?” You giggle stealing them back. He hops out of his floaty and into the water offering it to you. You decline so he sets it on the side of the pool. You both just float there for a moment looking at each other until Rhonda clears her throat. You look over at her as she says “Charlie and I are gonna go hang out with Yuri. You guys gonna stay here?” She glances between the two of you and gathers her stuff. “Yea, I’m gonna swim for a bit.” You nod bobbing in the water. Wally nods saying “I’m gonna hang with y/n here.” Rhonda and Charlie nod shooting you goodbye waves as they leave you and Wally.

Wally clears his throat awkwardly and mumbles “I like your suit.” A smirk graces his handsome face as he motions to you. You giggle at him. “I’m sure you do.” You tease wiggling your eyebrows at him. His cheeks heat but he doesn’t look away from you. “Wally are you checking me out?” You whisper fluttering your lashes at him. He floats closer now a few inches from you. “Of course I’m checking you out. Look at you. You are every guys wet dream.” His voice raspier than normal.

A pout graces your lips as you look at him. “Wally?” You ask softly. He lets out a mhm eyes locked on your lips. “Do you wanna go find somewhere a little more cozy?” Your voice lowers seductively. His eyes widen, pupils blown and darker somehow. “Yes, absolutely.” He tries not to sound too giddy but you find it adorable.

You both climb out of the pool. Wally close behind you. He wraps a towel around your shoulders and helps gather your clothes. He grabs your shoes and follows behind you as you tug his hand leading him through the school. You guide him to the theater and down into the under stage area. Once the trap door closes you drop the towel thankful that for once the reset comes in handy. You take your things from Wally and push him down on the couch. You toss your clothes down and move to straddle his hips. His hands immediately settle on your hips as you rest your forehead against his.

“Wally? Can I try something?” You ask softly wetting your lips. Wally lets out a husky laugh before saying “Baby you can do whatever you want to me. You could smack me and I’d thank you.” His hands trace the waistband of your panties a smirk on his face as he lifts his hips pressing his hard cock against you. A small gasp leaves your lips at the pressure of him against you. “I want to ride your thigh. Been thinking about it since the first time I saw you in these shorts.” You whine as you capture his lips in a heated kiss.

You slowly slide off his lap, lips still attached to his. Your lips part as you get on your knees in between his legs. You lean down trailing your lips up his inner thigh. You nip and bite marking up his meaty thighs. He lets out a groan as you run your tongue up his thigh. "I'm getting carried away but fuck you are pretty." You say with a breathy chuckle. He gives you a lazy smirk. "You won't hear me complaining pretty girl" he says as his hand grips his cock through his shorts.

You stand removing your panties before straddling his thigh. His hands grip your hips giving them a reassuring squeeze. You rock your hips gently letting out a whimper as you move. Wally's eyes are locked on your pussy as your wetness covers the top of his thigh. He flexes his thigh making you moan at the friction it applies to your clit. His cock jumps at the cry out chest heaving. "Can I take this off of you?" he asks as his hands grip the cup of your bra. You nod as you rock back and forth. His hands reach around undoing your bra and letting it slide off your body tossing it aside. He leans forward taking your nipple into his mouth flicking it with his tongue and taking it between his teeth. You let out a hiss at the pain mixed with pleasure.

"Baby, I need to be inside of you. Please. I need to feel you wrapped around me." Wally begs you his cock feeling painfully hard in his shorts. You slowly slide off his thigh. "I wanna ride you." you say sliding your hand into the waistband of his shorts pulling them off. "Yeah whatever you want pretty girl." he pants as his cock smacks his stomach. You guide him to lay on the couch and straddle his hips. You grab his cock smirking at the groan that leaves his mouth. You slowly slide his tip up and down your pussy until you get impatient and sink slowly on to him. You whine as he grunts out "Fuck baby you feel so good."

You grind your hips down on him, your hands resting on his chest. You lift yourself taking him almost all the way out before slamming yourself back down. The air leaving your lungs at how deep he feels. You sit there loving how full you feel until he whimpers "You have to move, please." You smile down at him "You sound really pretty begging for me Wally." You fuck yourself on him, scratching his abdomen as you do. Wally notices your slowing and grabs your hips holding them still. "You gonna let me take over now?" he lifts his hips causing you to cry out. "Yes, please fuck me Wally." He thrusts his hips up into you at a bruising pace, telling you how pretty you are and how good you feel.

You mumble out incoherent sentences brain short-circuiting. He reaches down rubbing your clit as he fucks you harder somehow. You are fall forward onto his chest not being able to hold yourself up any longer. He takes the new position to his advantage fucking up into you and holding you tightly to him. "Wally, fuck it's to much. I can't." You whine into his ear. "You can take it pretty girl just let go for me. I've got you." His raspy voice brings you closer to the edge. "Gonna let me fill you up? Gonna let me ruin you Baby?" He pants in your ear as you whimper out a yes. His speed picks up pushing you over the edge screaming "WALLY." as you cum around him. He thrust a few more times hips stuttering as he fills you full of him.

You lay there together catching your breath his cock softening inside of you. He grabs his letterman from the floor draping it over your back, running his hand soothingly over your hair. He places gentle kisses over any skin he can reach allowing you to recover. He glances down at you and sees you drooling on his chest asleep his cock still nestled in you. He looks down at you in awe and settles back falling asleep dreaming of you.

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ijustwannareblogstuff

1 year ago

Awaken Me | Tobias Eaton

pairings — four/reader | divergent au! |

summary : four seems to pick on you especially—and you figure out why. it’s because you both share the same secret.

warnings : none i think?

authors note : i forgot about this and decided to upload it even tho it’s unfinished…

Your eyes burned slightly as you blinked away tears, confused as to why you couldn't find that certain...

Anger.

Wren, a curly haired blonde that belonged in Amity—somehow landed in Dauntless. But during combat, her frail arms would summon the strength of twice the muscle capacity she contains. If you hadn't seen her flip a man twice her size over her figure—

You wouldn't have believed it.

Anyways, Wren had told you that she had reached that certain level of fighting simply by thinking of what angered her most. The the thing was, nothing horrible had happened to you.

You were born and raised in Amity, where the crime rate remained a negative 0–if that were possible, it would be rated just that.

Your ma and pa sheltered you, as you were their only child. You were also extremely close with them, but after getting your screen test back—it was time to begin a new chapter in your life. One that would drag and smash you to the ground like a bug.

Which is what happened now—basically.

Gritting your teeth, you rolled over to dodge one of your opponents lashes. Fortunately, the girl wasn't a merciless bitch, and let you stand up whilst getting back into position. With shaky fists, you gulped, muttering a quick curse before her own swung towards your chin.

But—

The beating never came. The throbbing rush of warm blood thrashing in your veins never crashed. Your jaw was in tact, and you weren't flopped on the ground like a beaten animal.

Your eyes snapped open, flashing over to the strong hand wrapped around Turner's wrist. Turner, the girl you were fighting, gulped as she stood back from Four. His chest radiated of a warm essence that burnt your cheeks—especially with the smirk dripping off his face.

"Turner," he released her grip, not glancing at you, "It appears the Mary Poppins hasn't improved. Isn't fair to you, is it?"

Your throat went dry, remembering how much of a total prick he was. At first, you thought he was hot, so you deemed him to maybe be a good person. But after you figured one of his life goals was to torment and embarrass you—you checked your values and common sense.

His eyes were dark, but still weren't ever fluttered onto your figure—almost as if he didn't even want to look at you. It damaged your confidence more, knowing you were probably going to be factionless if you didn't shape up soon.

Turner only shrugged, dropping her arm back to her side before placing both hands on her hips. She raised a brow at you as you let out a sharp breath, wiping the imaginary dust off your palms before looking down at the ground and stepping off the fighting podium.

Your ears ring as her blows caused you some damage. Chewing on your bottom lip, you held back your defeated thoughts as Wren threw an arm around your shoulder,

"It's okay. I got a few beat downs my first year here. It gets better," she attempted to cheer you up. You merely hummed as she continued, "Anger, _ _. That's what powers you. You need—“

“I know,” you snapped, stopping your feet before rolling your eyes at her, “I know. But I’m not an angry person, and I’m shit at fighting.”

Her eyes narrowed, “Pity isn’t what makes you a Dauntless, _ _,” she stepped towards you, poking a nimble finger into your heart, “So instead of whining, kid, maybe you should just stop thinking and fight.”

Slowly nodding, you stood there as she headed over to the cafeteria for lunch. You noticed that the boxing bag area was empty—and it clicked in your head what Wren said.

Fight.

Bringing your fists up, you got into a fighting stance and threw your first punch. With gritted teeth, you felt the material bruise up your knuckles—but you wanted to feel it. Feel the pain. If you couldn’t feel the pain, then pity would just Pool around in your chest instead.

And you hated pity.

Hissing as you retracted your first, you did it again. Then repeated on the other fist. Every time the cool leather collided with your knuckles, it sent a sharp pain up your hand. But you stood through it, until the next time you swung, you didn’t realize the bag had made its own hit towards you—swinging and hitting your body with a harsh force.

Letting out a grunt, your body slammed into the cold cement of the training sector. Your ribs ached as you didn’t twitch to get up, instead accepting that you were going to be factionless if you didn’t get back up.

Get back up, _ _. You have to.

Sweat dribbled down your forehead as you landed another punch to the bag. You made it a mission to skip lunch so you could train, because you'd rather starve than be factionless. Breathing harshly through your teeth, you felt the muscles slightly tense in your arms.

"Mary poppins hasn't improved, has she?"

You felt your lip curl as you delivered another brutal hit, finally taking victory in the bag. You released a grunt as your fists kept colliding with it.

You were going to show that stuck up son of a—

"You're supposed to eat in order to gain muscle. Didn't teach you that back in Amity, huh?" You heard a voice quip, a deep and gravelly voice.

Jumping from surprise, your head snapped over to see Four leaning against one of the bags. His eyes were focused on you, smoky and stormy. You looked away from him instantly, but kept your focus on him, "Skipping lunch won't make you a Dauntles—"

"If someone tells me one more time what does or doesn't make me a Dauntless, I might just fucking shoot myself," you raised your voice, feeling the patience that usually you held snapped like a tree branch. Four's eyes stayed narrowed as he now crossed his arms, the muscles protruding from that caramel, ink covered skin of his.

You gulped, "I meant—"

He stood up straight, a smirk creeping into his plump, pink lips as he stepped towards you, "You're nothing but a farmer. You cannot train remotely enough to become one of us," he hissed, venom laced in his words. Something swirled in his eyes, making your jaw lock,

"You don't have anger. You have self pity, and Dauntless don't pity themselves. They fight, and are willing to give up their life for people. How can you fight others when you're fighting yourself already?"

You blinked, feeling anger begin to rise within you. It was a foreign feeling—but you didn't hate it. If anything, your veins welcomed the poisonous rage, but you bit your tongue.

Four laughed darkly, "You can't even speak up for yourself. Surely, you should go back to those farmers," he continued, making your fists balled up at your sides. As he continued to degrade you and your home, well— people who used to be your home, it rose.

The anger rose. It felt as the ground begun to shake, sudden flashes of all the combat you had witnessed before your eyes playing like a rapid slideshow in your mind. The cracks of the bones whenever someone would slip their foot beneath someone—breaking their balance.

Your eyes flickered up to his. He paused right before you, the scent of cologne filling your nose as your chest heaved deeply. Every sense of angst within you was on fire as he tilted his head.

"You don't belong here. But I doubt you'll be able to go home, since your parents disow—"

Your foot slipped under him, trapping him to the ground with a grunt from him. Your teeth clenched as you aimed to punch him, but he immediately snapped his eyes into yours. With furrowed brows, he grabbed your wrist and striked your leg with a harsh kick.

Your knee buckled, a bullet of pain shooting through your muscles. The cold concrete pavement of the training sector burned the flesh on your cheek, ears ringing as a dull ache formed in your back from the landing.

“C’mon, _ _,” Four chuckled, more so in a tiresome way than a tormenting tone. His chest heaved as I blinked, “Get up. Don’t give up now.”

It clicked. Was he…training you?

A boost if adrenaline shot through you. He believed in you. That was the push you needed to balance your wobbling arms off the ground, barely being able to push your body—but you did. Your fists balked at your sides as you gulped, accidentally melting into his cold eyes.

They weren’t as cold, though. As if the ice had slightly melted—but there was still another thick layer.

“Fighting is a dance,” he murmured firmly, grabbing your arm and spinning you around. You let out a harsh breathe as he held your back against his chest, before roughly pushing you away. You hit one of the punching backs, grunting as he smirked, “Until it’s not.”

“Can’t imagine dancing with you,” your eyes narrowed—only making his smirk grow.

But you didn’t hear a response, instead your eyes noticed he was about to take a step forward. Then, you watched his arm twitch—ducking before delivering a jab to his side. He flinched, which broke the barrier, and you didn’t wait to kick him down to the ground.

With a loud thud, you watched as his braid figure slammed against the ground. Picking up your feet, you darted towards him. Every single insult he’d ever thrown at you replayed in your head. He was trying to anger you.

Did he perhaps…care?

Sliding your knee across the ground, you grabbed both of his hands and held him down. Your hair fell over your face, panting deeply, as you used the rest of your strength to fight off his. His hues twitched to yours, something flashing in his eyes as they met yours.

Your throat became dry. Butterflies erupted in your tummy, a warm feeling hugging your heart.

Feeling the cheeks in your face burn—you felt the world slowly silence around you as your eyes melted onto his. You didn’t know if it was your imagination, or the adrenaline pumping in your veins—but you swore you felt his long fingers slowly graze your thigh.

Wait—

How did they get fre—

And in an instant, you were flipped into the ground. His strong hands held you down, gripping your wrist, as his muscular chest held down yours. Bodies pressed against one another, his grunts filling your ears…it was truly a sight.

A musky scent flooded your senses as you felt like you were high, wanting to reach out and touch that sculpted jaw of his. The stubble poking from his skin is probably scratchy against your palm, but his flesh still looked smooth and supple.

Despite his appearance coming off ragged and rough.

“That’s how you fight like a Dauntless,” He taunted darkly, making your brows raise in shock, “You’ll do just fine in ranks if you uh—“

His eyes fluttered to your lips, before he gulped and squeezed his eyes shut. He pushed himself off the floor, away from you, before dusting off his pants, “You should do just fine, _ _.”

Before you could say anything, he cleared his throat and made his exit.

548 notes View Post

ijustwannareblogstuff

2 months ago

‘Get dicked down’

In which our reader gets dragged to a party by Maddy in hopes of finding a hook up, and ends up meeting new kid Elliot.

Pairing: fem!reader x Elliot!euphoria

Word count: 1.9k ish

Content: smut, oral f!receiving, light choking

A/N: hi, I’m pretty new to the fanfic-writing game so would love to hear any feedback!! Would anyone be interested in me making this a series at all?? Much love <3

You’re glad you’d let Maddy and Cassie drag you to this party. Loud music reverberates through the walls, a haze of smoke hangs in the air and the atmosphere’s infectiously charged with drunken happiness.

Maddy grabs your hand and leads you deeper into the house. “C’mon, let’s do a lap.”

You pause at the drinks table, scanning the crowd for potential hook ups as Maddy hands you a cup. Both of you are looking to ‘get dicked down’, as she’d put it.

“Wait, where’d Cassie go?” You look around, but your friend seems to have disappeared into thin air.

“She’s probably found Kat,” Maddy shrugs carelessly

You take a sip and wrinkle your nose. “Shit, Mads, is this, like, straight tequila?”

“Please, you’re just a lightweight.” She rolls her eyes. Some guy on the dance floor catches her eye, and she gives him a little wave. “I’m gonna go dance.” She smiles and struts off.

You sigh, watching their brief conversation, before the guy puts his hands on her hips and they begin grinding so close they practically need a condom.

There’s nobody you recognise, and you won’t be caught dead as the weird girl standing all alone at the party. From the window, you can see a group of people on the back patio smoking. Stoners are usually a pretty safe bet when you want to meet new people, so you decide to try them.

It’s colder outside, and you shiver in your thin dress. You sit in the only spare chair, next to some girl who looks out of it.

“Y/N?” She says.

“Oh shit, hey Rue!” You hadn’t recognised her in the low lighting. “Hey! How’s your night going?”

“Yeah, it’s going, I guess.” She slurs, slumping lower in her chair.

You drain your cup and scan the people around you. Some you recognise from school, others you assume are from St. Mary’s.

“Rue?” A guy you don’t know shakes her gently.

Your phone buzzes.

Madz: u guys r gonna have to find other rides home

Cass: wait why

Madz: I’m going home with j

You: who??

She doesn’t reply and you roll your eyes. And no ride home? Clear violation of the girl code.

“Hey, do you know how long she’s been passed out?” Rue’s friend nudges you.

“Like, two minutes maybe?” You shrug, distracted.

The guy curses under his breath. “I have to get her home.” He explains. He poked her again. “Rue!”

He’s cute - tall, curly hair, and a couple of face tats, which you’re into. You figure that he’s probably with Rue or something, though.

“Come on, asshole.” He grunts and hauls her up, pulling one of her arms over his shoulders. She groans in protest.

“Hey, wait.” You stand up and he glances back at you. “Can I get a ride?”

Between the two of you, you manage to lug Rue into the backseat of the guy’s car.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you pant.

The guy wrangles Rue into her seatbelt and slams the back door. “Elliot,” he introduces himself, one arm propped on the car roof. You don’t think you’re imagining the way his gaze flicks appreciatively over your body.

“Nice to meet you, Elliot,” you smile brightly at him before crossing to the passenger side of the car and letting yourself in.

“So how long have you and Rue been dating?” You ask, hoping Elliot will correct you.

“We’re just friends,” he says, and glances over at you. “You don’t seem too disappointed.” He grins.

You shrug. “You guys just didn’t seem like a great match,” you say innocently.

“Right.” Elliot says dryly. He pulls into Rue’s driveway and fires off a text message.

Rue’s younger sister appears in the front doorway. You’ve heard her name before - Georgia, maybe? She jogs over to the car and pulls Rue out.

“Thanks,” she tells Elliot briefly, before shutting the car door behind her and pulling Rue, who’s now semi-conscious, back to the house.

“So, you wanna go home?” He asks you after the girls are inside.

You’re reluctant to stop hanging out with him so soon, especially now it’s just the two of you. “Actually, I think I saw a domino’s on the way here, and I’m starving. Do you wanna eat?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” His noncommittal words contrast with his eager tone, and you do your best to hide a smile.

Elliot winds the windows down and turns the stereo up and you smile. It’s old RNB you don’t really recognise, but it suits him.

You extend one arm out the window, cupping your hand against the wind.

Elliot’s watching you out of the corner of his eye.

“Eyes on the road,” you tell him, laughing as he goes red.

It’s late, so you find a table pretty easily. As you eat, you make small talk and find out that Elliot just moved to town with his Mom. He’s into music and mostly just keeps to himself at school.

“What about you?” He asks.

“Regular stuff,” you say, shrugging slightly. “Uh, parties, friends, movies…”

He studies your eyes intently, his dark eyes boring into yours as if he can see right through to your soul.

“What?” You duck your head to hide the blush that’s spread across your cheeks.

“I’m just lookin’,” he tells you, nudging your foot with his.

By the time you’re finished eating, you’re the last people left, the store is ready to close, and the employees are shooting you death glares.

“I think they want us to leave,” Elliot whispers to you conspiratorially.

You grin and nod. Elliot stands and offers you his hand. You take it and your heart skips a beat. He gives it a quick squeeze and leads you out to the car.

“You still want to me to take you home?” He asks, gaze flickering to you before focusing back on the road.

“Or…” you hesitate before kicking off your sandal and extending one leg across his lap. “We could go back your place?”

His hand tightens around the wheel, the muscles in his forearm flexing.

Encouraged by his silent reaction, you reach over and graze your fingers lightly over his package. He inhales sharply. “Holy shit,” he says, pressing down on the accelerator. “Uh, yeah. Okay. My place.”

The sexual tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. To distract yourself, you take a minute to text your parents that you’re sleeping over at Maddy’s, then text Maddy that you got lucky.

“Okay.”

You look up at the sound of Elliot’s voice as he turns off the car. “So, my Moms asleep so we’ll have to be quiet. And I just want verbal consent in case this isn’t going where I think it’s going.”

You laugh incredulously at that. “You’re a dork,” you tell him, shaking your head.

“A hot one, though, right?” He grins. “Come on.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt and stumble into the house hand-in-hand with Elliot. He leads you into his room, which smells strongly but pleasantly like weed and fresh laundry, shutting the door behind you.

Eagerly, you press Elliot against the door, hands resting on his shoulders, and kiss him until your head is spinning. He gently slides his tongue into your mouth and you moan. His hands settle briefly on your waist, before he reaches up to palm your tits over your dress.

“Is this okay?” He breaks the kiss to ask.

“Mmhmm,” you quickly say before leaning back in. You press kisses along his jawline, nipping gently at the soft skin.

He hums contentedly, his hands exploring your neck and shoulders and back before sliding the straps of your dress down.

Your hands slide along the hem of his jeans before finding the buckle of his belt. You pull his jeans down and palm his through his boxers.

He bucks his hips slightly “To the bed?” He suggests.

His hands gripping your shoulder blades, Elliot guides you to his bed and lays you down gently. His hands are still working to tug your dress off your body. “How does this thing come off?” He whispers.

You press your forehead against his and laugh. “There’s a zipper at the back,” you answer.

He pauses and finally unzips the dress. “Oh.” He says. He pulls it off your body and sits up to take his shirt off. You admire his well muscled body.

As he leans back in to kiss you again, you pull your emergency condom out of your bra.

He shakes his head wordlessly and takes it from your hand, placing it on his bedside table.

“I’m not having sex with you without a condom,” you tell him firmly.

“Yeah, obviously,” he says, unhooking your bra and tossing it to the side. Now you’re both wearing only your underwear.

“If it’s yeah, obviously, then why are you-“ you gasp as Elliot presses kisses to your hipbones and lower belly, hooking his finger into the waistband of your underwear and pulling them off.

You lace your hands through Elliot’s curls as he gently bites your thighs, pursing your lips to stop yourself from moaning.

“You’re so sexy,” he says getting closer to where you want him the most.

“Elliot, please,” you beg, bucking your hips desperately.

He lowers his head and licks a long stripe up your pussy, and you tighten your grip on his hair.

He flicks your clit with his tongue, and your thighs squeeze around his head. You can feel the familiar ball of tension and pleasure forming in the pit of your stomach.

Elliot alternates between sucking on and flicking your bundle of nerves until your back is arched and you can’t form a single thought. One last kitten lick from his tongue tips you over the edge, as warm waves of pleasure course through your body.

Elliot keeps pleasuring you as you ride out your high, until your clit becomes too sensitive and you weakly push his head away.

He looks up at you, his eyes hooded and lips covered in your arousal.

“Can we use the condom now?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you pant, still eager to feel him inside you.

You grab the condom from the table and pass it to him.

He rolls it on and settles on top of you. Every inch of your bodies are pressed together, and Elliot presses kisses against your jaw. He slides his impressive length into you and you moan, lifting your hips to meet his.

“Fuck,” he curses, thrusting hard and deep. His hand finds your breasts, tweaking your nipples before moving to your throat.

“This okay?” He asks breathily.

You can only whimper in response - his dick grazing your g-spot, his hand around your throat; the pleasure is almost overwhelming.

“Use your words,” he whispers gently, nipping your earlobe and squeezing your neck.

“Feels so good,” you babble.

“Are you close?” He asks.

“Yes,” you manage to say.

His thrusts grow harder and deeper, bringing you closer to your second orgasm of the night. An moan crosses your lips, embarrassingly loud, and Elliot claps a hand over your mouth, which makes the whole thing somehow even hotter.

You clench around his dick as you approach your high, chanting Elliot’s name like a prayer. Your orgasm washes over you, your back arching off the bed and legs shaking weakly.

Elliot cums and you stay where you are for a second, one of your hands resting on the nape of his neck, the other on his lower back.

Elliot peels off the condom and tosses it in the trash. You get up to pee and he shoots you a hurt look.

“Are you leaving?” He asks, clearly fighting to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“No, dork, I was just gonna go take a piss so I don’t get a UTI,” you huff out a laugh before nearly crumpling back onto the bed. Your legs are still weak from two orgasms in a row.

“Um,” you look up at Elliot, a blush spread across your cheeks. “Could you maybe help me to the bathroom?”

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