#drabble request game

[potatoplace]

SORRY i sent in the request with 💜❤️‍🔥💘 but i meant to add angst (so like a mix of smut and angst) and also 💜 x reader

I'm Good Here

Rhysand x Reader

Warnings: forced bond acceptance, smut, mild angst cause of that (not dub-con, it's mostly sorted before then lol)

Notes: lol you're ALL GOOD don't worry about it 😂 I added a lil fluff towards then end cause I wanna see these two HAPPY, even if it's still a brand new revelation lol. I hope you like it!!

💜 Rhys ❤️‍🔥 smut 💘 mates

18+ only pls

🤍💜❤️‍🔥💜🤍

Dread filled you as a golden tether snapped in your chest, forever binding you to the male in front of you.

Violet eyes went wide for a split second before narrowing, all of his attention now focused solely on you.

This couldn't be happening, you weren't- you weren't even meant to be here. If not for your sister falling ill, you never would have been forced to feed the High Lord sitting on his throne in front of you, you never would have been tied to him for all eternity.

A strong, tanned hand grabbed hold of your wrist, and in an instant you were winnowed out of the throne room of the Hewn City, appearing in a lavishly decorated bedroom.

Already, the heat of the bond was burning within you, even though you had unwittingly accepted it.

Judging from the fire in violet eyes, the same effect was happening to your High Lord.

"Now, now, none of that 'High Lord' business," he purred as he held your hands softly in his. "As my mate, you can call me Rhys. Or whatever you'd prefer, I don't care much so long as you want me."

Want him?

"Yes, my sweet little mate. Y/N, correct?" You nodded slowly, your mind trying to... Reconcile the High Lord you knew to the male in front of you. "Well, Y/N, since we were... unfortunate enough to have the bond accepted with courting," Rhys said, his voice strained. "I'm afraid we don't have much choice in consummating it, but- if you'd wish to leave after, I... All I ask is that you let me offer you protection and provide for you."

You blinked at him, trying to process his words but failing miserably. There was something in them that set your heart at ease, enough to allow you to finally give in to the heat that was now burning through every inch of you.

Your mouth met his firmly, your feet on their tiptoes to reach him. That was all Rhys needed to hoist you into his arms, your legs locking around his hips as he walked the two of you to the bed, gently laying you down and following swiftly after. His lips reconnected, the taste of them sweet from the fruit you'd given him only minutes before, a reminder of the bond pulsing through you.

A tug on the golden thread from him had you gasping, your eyes flying open to meet his, a wicked look dancing in them.

A moment later a tickling sensation breezed across your skin, your eyes looking down to see that your clothes were no more, instead just the slightest hint of dust covering you.

"I'll take my time with you later, but right now, I need to fuck my sweet little mate," Rhys said lowly in your ear, one of his hands already lowered between you.

Just the brush of his cock against your folds had a breathy moan leaving your lips, the noise repeated when he bumped against your clit teasingly.

"Mate," you groaned, letting one of your feet bump his leg.

He let out a chuckle before pressing in slowly, for which you were grateful. Even the overwhelming arousal of the bond wasnt enough to fully prepare you for the stretch, the tiniest bit of pain flaring before it was extinguished by exquisite pleasure.

You both sighed once he was fully seated within you, relishing in the feeling of being so full, and filled by your mate no less.

Your heart sung at the thought, the feeling matched from the other end of the bond.

Moving now, darling, Rhys whispered into your mind, the warning barely preparing you for the snap of his hips, moving out of you only as much as he needed to before burying himself in you once more.

He set a slow, firm pace, increasing as your walls began to flutter.

You could barely breathe when his thumb circled your clit quickly, sending you toppling over the edge after a hard thrust from your mate, a loud moan tumbling from your lips.

Rhys followed you a moment later, his hips twitching as he kissed you, groaning into your mouth when your walls squeezed him before he pulled out.

He stayed over you, his eyes clearer now that the bond had been sated for the moment. "I meant what I said, you know," he said quietly before rolling off of you to your right side, his muscular arms wrapping around you.

"About...?" you trailed off, before it came back to you. "Oh- about me being able to... to leave?" Rhys nodded, a sad look in his eyes. "I... I think... I'm good here, for now."

Stars sparked up in those pretty, violet eyes, a small grin making its way onto his face. "I'm glad to hear that, Y/N. I'm good here, too."

🤍💜❤️‍🔥💜🤍

[amethystarachnid]

Omg thanks so much for opening the requests again!!💛 (and sorry for dumping my long ass requests girl😭) How have you been?

please give us an innocent & shy y/n and flirty-drunk-jealous tony drabble pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee TQ!

SHY READER & FLIRTY TONY STARK - a Drabble

(you'll find the others drunk/jealous in this post but scroll down, I wanted to try something new and divided it in parts)

Tony Stark notices you the moment you step into the lab—mostly because you trip over your own feet. Smooth.

“New intern or did Fury finally send a spy who isn’t obvious?” He grins, leaning against his desk. You turn red. Mission: Speak. Failed.

You mutter something about coffee runs. He tilts his head. “Uh-uh. Try again, Casper. Louder, for the people in the back.”

“I—I’m here to—to assist,” you squeak. Tony gasps, clutching his arc reactor. “A shy scientist? Illegal. I’m calling SHIELD.”

He nicknames you “Bambi” after you bolt out of the room the first time he winks. (”Like the deer. All wide-eyed and skittish. Adorable.”)

He “accidentally” sends DUM-E to bring you tools—every five minutes. You swear the bot winks at you. (Traitor.)

“Friday, play Careless Whisper,” Tony announces when you drop a wrench. You groan. “I hate it here.” He grins. “No, you don’t.” (…Damn it.)

One day, you snap. “If you’re this annoying, how does anyone like you?” Tony beams. “There’s the fire! Knew it was in there.”

You sigh. He winks. This might be a problem. (…Or the start of something very fun.)

SHY READER & DRUNK TONY STARK

Tony stumbles into the penthouse, tie loose, cheeks flushed. You blink from the couch. Oh no.

“There’s my favorite person,” he slurs, pointing dramatically. “You. Yes, you. The cute one. With the face.”

You sigh. “How much did you drink?” He gasps, offended. “Rude. I’m perfectly sober.” (He is not.)

He flops onto the couch, head in your lap. “You’re so soft. Like a… a cloud. A shy, blushing cloud.” You cover your face. Why me.

“Tony, you’re heavy—” “And you’re beautiful,” he interrupts, poking your nose. “Boop.”

He tries to whisper but it’s loud. “Hey. Hey. Wanna know a secret? I like you. Like, like like.” You groan. “We’re dating.”

“Exactly,” he says, as if this is groundbreaking. “Best decision ever. High five.” (He misses your hand entirely.)

You try to get up. He whines, clinging to your arm. “Nooo, don’t leave. What if I wither without you?” (Drama queen.)

“You need water,” you mutter. He grins. “I need you.” Pause. “…But water’s cool too, I guess.”

SHY READER & JEALOUS TONY STARK

You’re laughing at something Steve said—just Steve, harmless, platonic Steve—but Tony’s grip on his drink tightens. Uh-oh.

“Wow, Rogers. You really needed her to explain the WiFi password?” Tony’s grin is sharp. “Or were you just fishing for conversation?”

Steve blinks. You kick Tony under the table. He fake-gasps. “Violence? From you? I’m wounded.” (He’s smirking.)

When Bucky dares to hug you, Tony loses it. “Barnes. Hands to yourself or I’m donating that arm to science.”

“Why are you texting Steve?” Tony demands. “He asked for cookie recipes.” “…Captain America bakes now?”

You’re late. Tony paces. “Maybe she’s with Bruce—he’s all ‘calm’ and ‘listens’—ugh.” (Bruce, from the couch: “I’m right here.”)

A paparazzi photo surfaces of you smiling at Thor. Tony prints it out, circles it in red. “Explain.” “He told a joke.” “I tell jokes!”

You catch him Googling “how to be more charming than Norse gods”. (Spoiler: He already is.)

Finally, you kiss his pout away. “Relax. You’re the only Stark I want.” He smirks. “Better be.” (Mission: Secure the Girl—complete.)

[euphemiaamillais]

cry, kill, die - coriolanus snow

peacekeeper!coryo finds out you’re commander hoff’s daughter

based on this ask

cw: 18+//piv sex//fingering//spitting//mentions of guns

‘and what are you doing here?’ a rich voice rings out.

you snap your head around, coming face to face with one of the many peacekeepers who serve under your father. this one is more handsome than the others—icy blue eyes, and platinum blonde cropped hair. a smile quirks upon the corners of your lips.

‘is that any of your business?’ you inquire, knowing that you can test the patience of the peacekeepers, because who would dare to cross the commander’s daughter?

‘what, are you visiting your sweetheart, bunny?’ he teases, though there’s a rather stern look in his eyes.

you laugh in response, and attempt to continue on your way—you’ve got a meeting with your father, after all. however, you are stopped by a hand coming down to circle around your wrist. his grip is tight, and disgruntled, you turn back to face him.

‘come on, you don’t have to be so shy. there’s lots of girls like you here. little bunnies who like to spread their favours far and wide.’ he raises a brow suggestively. you can hardly believe he has the audacity.

you don’t know whether you should tell him who you are, or if you should just leave it. he’s not loosened his grip on you. you’re not sure how to answer it either.

‘are you accusing me of being a whore, private?’ you feign a shocked look. he laughs, running his hand up your arm. his touch is cold, like ice, and you shiver a little.

‘perhaps…’ a smirk plays at the corner of his lips. ‘maybe it’s the fact that you’re looking at me like that, just begging to be fucked.’

‘oh, really?’ you rebut—he’s so forward, like most of them are, but you’d never think they’d dare to actually touch you. not more than a few stray kisses at least.

‘now, are you going to be a good girl, and come back to my bunk?’ he says, a tone of dominance in his voice. his fingers are striking his rifle, which catches your eye.

‘perhaps…’ you purse your lips. you don’t know what would happen if your father found you getting too friendly with one of his men, and you didn’t exactly want to find out. but this one was so handsome… you liked how daring he was.

‘perhaps? come now, bunny. that’s not a very good answer, is it?’ he steps closer to you, his gun pressing against your bare thighs.

you shake your head, glancing up at him with wide eyes. he’s so tall, dwarfing you—it makes him all the more commanding. he moves to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

‘you’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?’ his breath is hot against your ear, and you feel a flush creeping up your cheeks.

‘well, only if you can please me, private,’ you murmur, causing a flash of anger in his eyes. nobody dared to challenge his abilities in bed.

he would prove that to you, bend you over like the little whore you are, fuck you stupid until you couldn’t even cry out your own name. he did that often enough to the other bunnies that hopped around the barracks, hoping for a good time. he was very well practised now, not like the silly little schoolboy that he was back in the capitol with his golden curls and academy rouge.

‘if?’ he laughs, snaking one hand around to grab your ass. ‘not if, sweetheart. when.’

god, he was so full of himself.

deciding that he didn’t want to waste anymore time fooling around, he pulls you by the arm and began to lead you along the dirt track to the barracks. you glance around, watching as the uniformed peacekeepers march their way to large trucks or to training. it’s an all-too familiar site, ever since your father was stationed to 12. you’d have to be careful with this one, though. he was too handsome to be transferred to another district if you were caught.

the barracks are empty when you enter, and he doesn’t take his time with you, shoving you against the wall. he shoves one leg between your thighs, pinning you so you can’t run free. you feel your heart leap with excitement.

he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips—which you return eagerly. you slip your tongue inside his mouth, and move your hands to wrap around his neck. you’re desperate; you can’t help but ache for him, core wet and slick with want.

he moves his lips from your own, and trails hot kisses down your neck, sucking and nipping the delicate skin as he does so. you gasp out, clutching at the nape of his neck, urging him to bite harder. you’ll have to wear a scarf to hide these from your father.

‘so sweet, bunny,’ he mutters into your collarbones.

your hands roam to his ass, pulling him flush against you. you can feel his hard-on pressing against your thighs. you want him so bad, to take you and fuck you like the whore you are—cock filling out your tight cunt.

‘please,’ you whine, wanton and needy. ‘need you to fill me up.’

so direct, he thinks, a grin playing upon his lips. you look so pretty, pressed between his leg, hands grasping at his ass. what a fucking whore, begging him for it. he’s hardly even touched you and you’re already whining for him.

‘soon, bunny.’ he peppers a few kisses against your jaw, hands gripping at your hips.

you let out a mewl, fed up that he’s teasing you so much—he’s not even had the decency to stick his hand between your thighs. aggrieved, you grind down against his thigh, your soaked panties leaving a mark on his perfectly ironed uniform. that would be cause for some explaining to the laundress.

‘oh no,’ he puckers his lips. ‘don’t think you can get away with that… being so impatient.’

you scowl as he moves his thigh away, letting your legs fall to the ground. you stumble a little, trying to find your balance, but he’s quick to tug you along to one of the empty bunks. you wonder what your father would do, finding you in here with him—the peacekeeper who’s name you don’t even know—the thought of being caught makes it all the more thrilling.

he shoves you against the side of the bed, and rucks up your skirt to reveal your soaking panties. he laughs, looking at your pathetic face, trembling lips and wide, dumbfound eyes.

‘so fucking desperate,’ he remarks, kneeling and placing his hands against your thighs. ‘just another one of the little bunnies who likes to get fucked senseless.’

you shake your head, feeling his cold hands creep up your thighs. they latch around the waistband of your panties and tug them down.

‘god, look how wet you are,’ he scoffs, tossing the panties aside.

he slides one finger inside your cunt, and you let out a groan, hands clenching against the woollen sheets. a little daring, he slips another finger in, arching it as far as it can go. it feels so good, and he thrusts them in and out of your wet hole at a teasingly slow pace. goddamn him.

‘need you,’ you pant. ‘in me. please…’

you pout, hoping he’ll take pity on you. he slides his fingers out, gripping your thighs hard. more bruises. you’ll have a lot of explaining to do to your father.

‘does bunny want me to fill up her tight little cunt?’ he asks, fingers pinching at your skin.

‘yes please,’ you sigh, clutching at his shirt.

you attempt to pull him up, coax him to you. you wonder when he’ll figure it out… that he’s seen you before, standing beside your father in a pale pink dress, watching as the peacekeepers eye you. commander hoff’s daughter is supposed to be off limits. he’d shoot any of them on site if he caught them so much as ogle your pretty form making its way through the barracks.

he hangs over you now, elbows propping himself up as he grinds his crotch into the bed. your hands roam down to his waistband, and you stick your hand inside, palming his hard cock. he lets out a heavy groan, and you feel the precum coating his cock.

‘gonna fuck you so good,’ he grunts, hands going to unbutton his pants.

his cock is throbbing when you take it in your hand, guiding it to your entrance. he’s not the first you’ve been with—not that your father knows that—but he’s certainly the biggest. you sigh pleasantly as he slides himself in, not taking any time to ease into your cunt.

he begins to thrust, feeling your tight walls stretch around him, taking him all in. you reach one hand down to rub at your clit, which is aching with need. he slaps your hand away, seeing you touching yourself—it’s an insult to his abilities—and uses his thumb to rub soft circles on the sensitive nub.

‘harder,’ you plead, grabbing his ass and pushing him in; feeling the tip of his cock poking against your cervix.

‘what a dirty fuckin’ slut, huh?’ he coos, upping his pace. ‘begging me to fuck you like a little whore.’

you let out a groan as you feel him begin to pound you, each thrust increasing the pace. his fingers still rub deftly at your clit, which throbs with pleasure. you do have to admit; he is so good.

‘mhm…’ you sigh, head lolling back as he fucks you. ‘my father will kill you if he finds out.’

you decide to tell him—it’s too late for him to back out now, what, buried deep inside your cunt. he’s too struck by pleasure to think straight, at first, and so his answer is to merely laugh.

‘yeah? who’s he? don’t think he can tell a peacekeeper what to do,’ he grunts, cock pulsing with pleasure. god, you feel so good.

‘oh…’ a slight giggle escapes your lips, and you run your hand over his lower back. ‘you don’t know?’

he rears his head up, perplexed, brows furrowed. he’s still rutting into you, and you can see the shiny sweat beading on his forehead, his blue eyes glistening with confusion.

‘hm, bunny?’ he inquires.

‘well…’ an impish grin scampers across your lips. you trace circles in his skin. ‘you were wondering why i was here…’

he comes to a halt, causing you to frown. the expression on his face is one of pained loss of pleasure—having to cease his thrusts to clear his mind—and also slight fear, not that he’d never admit it. no, you couldn’t be. but he can see it, the eyes, the curve of your nose. you’re hoff’s daughter. of course. the one with the overly-friendly smile, who liked to wear her skirts too short as she waltzed past the peacekeepers.

‘oh bunny,’ he clucks his tongue in a scolding manner. ‘what would your father do if he knew you were begging for my cock like a little whore?’

your cheeks burn red, and he begins to thrust again. somehow, this has made him want you all the more. to have him see you being ruined by one of his own men—that would remind him that private snow was capitol. not just some pathetic district runt like the rest of the peacekeepers.

he pulls your legs up around his shoulders, adjusting the angle of his cock, and fucks into you like a common whore. you gasp at the feeling of his cock hitting the right spot—and you feel waves of pleasure coursing through your body, cunt throbbing and clenching around his big cock.

‘such a fucking slut, huh?’ he groans, feeling himself close to his peak. ‘taking peacekeeper cock while your daddy sits in his office just out there.’

you let out a moan, clutching at his shoulders while he pounds you. you look like a such a whore, tits bouncing, cunt so fucking wet for him. how fucking pathetic. who would’ve thought commander hoff’s daughter took cock so well?

‘mhm!’ you gasp, slickness gushing from your cunt. nobody’s ever made you finish just by using their cock.

‘so good,’ he grunts, thrusts growing haggard as he nears his end.

your body is humming with adrenaline, the waves of your orgasm still coursing through your veins. he moves one hand up to your cheek, coaxing your mouth open. you oblige, and as he gives a fucked-out thrust into your cunt, spits into you mouth.

‘swallow,’ he manages to murmur out as he spills into you.

your cunt is filled with hot, sticky spurts of cum as he finishes, and you obediently swallow his spit. it makes your cunt throb with excess desire, and you have to bite your lip to stop another moan from spilling out.

‘fuck… so good,’ he groans as he slips out of you, his hot load dripping down your thighs.

he tucks himself back into his trousers, and goes to sit down beside you. you’re splayed out, cunt exposed and dripping from his load. you look so pretty, completely fucked dumb, eyes wide with the excess of your want.

‘what’s your father going to say about this?’ he laughs, rubbing his hand against your aching cunt. your body tenses up from the overstimulation.

‘he’d probably have you shot,’ you muster out, propping yourself up on your elbows.

he laughs, a rich sound escaping his mouth. you reach to grab your panties, which are bundled up on the sheets, still wet. he reaches out and stops your hand with his own, taking the panties from you. you pout, and try to reach for them back.

‘oh, i don’t think so,’ he remarks cruelly, tucking them in his back pocket. ‘something to remember you by.’

he presses a kiss against your cheek—you can’t help but blush even though your heart pounds at the thought of having to walk back to your house with no underwear.

‘please…’ you plead, bottom lip trembling. ‘i can’t walk home like this… my skirt…’

he shakes his head and chuckles, looking at you like you’re his. you shove your skirt down, ashamed to be laying like this.

‘i don’t think whores get much of a say in things,’ he cajoles, eyes glistening a little manically.

he delights in the thought of you being humiliated, having to pretend like you didn’t just get your brains fucked out by a peacekeeper. he wonders what would happen if the wind decided to blow the wrong way…

‘i’ll tell my father about this!’ you threaten, but he only laughs again and throws his hands up in defence.

‘and let him know that you were so desperate that you let a peacekeeper fuck you?’ he scoffs. ‘i don’t think so, bunny.’

you feel your heart splintering a little—but two could play at that game, you supposed. you weren’t going to let him snap you up in his net.

‘you can come get them back next time,’ he grins.

your brows quirk up. you hadn’t intended on this happening again… but he was so handsome. and his cock was… well, huge. you did have to admit he was good. very good.

‘next time?’ your mouth rounds into a look of surprise.

‘oh yes, next time.’

[onlybeeewrites]

A Soothing Touch

Request: If youre taking requests can you write something where the reader is having very bad period cramps all day especially when the reader and Finnick are trying to sleep at night so Finnick rubs her stomach and it feels really good and helps until she falls asleep

Pairing: Finnick Oskar x Fem!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: period cramps! That’s it, soft!Finnick <3

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You woke before the first call bell.

It was the familiar pain that greeted you—dull, insistent, and already pulsing through your lower abdomen like a warning siren. You lay still, hoping the cramps might pass if you didn’t move, but they only seemed to grow stronger the longer you waited.

With a soft groan, you pushed yourself upright. Every movement felt like dragging your body through quicksand. Your limbs were heavy, sore, and your stomach… gods, your stomach felt like it was being wrung out by invisible fists.

You winced as you bent over to pull on your grey jumpsuit, the fabric stiff and unkind against your already sensitive skin. Even the smallest things—like tugging the zipper up—made you want to cry out. But you didn’t. You never did.

The scent of the kitchens already lingered in the hallway as you stepped outside your compartment—boiled starch, onions, and vaguely metallic meat rations.

It wasn’t exactly comforting, but it was familiar. You pressed a hand to your abdomen, steadying yourself. There was no stopping now. Not in District 13. Not with your shift starting soon.

And besides… they were just cramps. You could push through them. You always had.

    · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The kitchen was already alive when you arrived. The clatter of knives, the hiss of steam, orders being tossed across the room like hot potatoes. It was intense, claustrophobic even, but it was yours. A place where you could keep your hands moving and your mind quiet.

You’d always found some small comfort in kitchens—even back in District 4, when your hands were smaller and your burdens different. 

Cooking, baking, prepping meals for your family or neighbors had always been your way of giving love when you had nothing else. Something about feeding people made the world feel a little softer, a little safer.

But today? Today your body was screaming.

You were assigned to prep for the evening meal: root vegetables, stews thickened with lentils, and trays of hard, rationed bread. 

You peeled potatoes until your fingers felt raw. Chopped carrots until your vision blurred. Stirred massive vats of soup as steam coated your face.

Every few minutes, the pain in your stomach would seize you again—sharp and relentless. You’d pause, pressing a palm to your belly, trying to breathe through it.

“You alright?” Tessa, a tall, sharp-eyed girl from District 10, glanced over from the other end of the table.

“Fine,” you managed, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just a bad day. I’ll live.”

She eyed you for a moment, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t push. Just nodded once and returned to slicing onions.

You soldiered on. You always did.

By the time your shift ended, you were practically dragging your feet through the hallway. Every step sent a pulse of pain through your abdomen.

Your back ached from lifting trays and stirring pots, your legs wobbled beneath you, and your stomach was still twisting in knots.

Your hands trembled as you pressed the door panel to your quarters. The metal hissed open, and you stumbled inside.

Finnick was already there, lounging on the bed with his back against the wall, shirt discarded and pants hanging low on his hips. His sea-green eyes immediately lifted to you, softening as they landed on your face.

“You’re late,” he said gently, sitting up straighter. “Everything okay?”

“Long shift,” you replied, barely able to stand. “Just… feeling awful today.”

He was on his feet in seconds, meeting you halfway. “What kind of awful?” he asked, his tone dipping into that soft, protective place he only used with you.

You shook your head, wincing as another cramp rolled through you. “Period. Bad one. Started this morning and just kept getting worse.”

“Sweetheart…” His voice was nothing but tenderness now. He reached for your arm, guiding you toward the bed. “You should’ve come back earlier.”

“I couldn’t,” you murmured. “They needed help. Besides, they’re just cramps. I can handle it.”

Finnick frowned as you slowly changed into your loose cotton pajamas, trying to hide the way you had to bite your lip to stay quiet when you bent over.

“You don’t have to handle everything alone, you know,” he said gently, sitting on the edge of the bed beside you. “If you weren’t feeling well, you could’ve left. They would have understand.”

“I’m not trying to be a hero,” you whispered. “It’s just… that’s how life works here. You push through.” You insist.

He took your hands, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles. “That might be how they do it. But when you come home to me, I’m not letting you push through alone.”

You finally met his gaze, your throat tightening with the weight of the day. The pain. The pressure. The exhaustion. “It’s just… really bad,” you whispered, curling your knees to your chest.

Finnick gently moved closer. “Can I touch you?” he asked, his hand hovering near your waist. “Might help. I’ll be gentle, promise.”

You nodded wordlessly.

He slid his hand across your stomach, fingers warm and patient, rubbing slow circles through the fabric. You let out a soft breath, your body slowly starting to unclench under his touch.

“Better?” he asked after a moment.

“A little,” you whispered. “You’re warm. That helps.”

“You should’ve stayed in bed this morning,” he murmured. “I would’ve brought you breakfast. Stolen something sweet from the ration cart. Whatever you needed.”

You laughed quietly, but it ended in a wince. “I didn’t think they’d get this bad. Usually I can handle them. Today was… different.”

Finnick scooted behind you, guiding you to lie down with him, his chest pressed against your back, his arm wrapped around your middle. His hand continued its gentle motion, never stopping.

“You’re not caving for being in pain,” he whispered against your shoulder, “besides it’s not your fault. I know they can get bad..”

You turned your head slightly. “I feel pathetic,”

“You’re anything but,” he said firmly, but amusement lacing his tone. “You’re on your period, my love. You worked all day while your body was waging war on you. That’s not pathetic. Give yourself some credit,”

You were silent for a beat, letting those words settle in your chest. His touch, his warmth, his voice—it all worked together like some kind of magic.

“You always know how to make me feel better,” you said softly.

“I’m glad,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “That’s kind of my job, isn’t it?”

You huffed a quiet laugh. “Your job?”

“Mmm. Official Finnick Odair role: Protector of You. Keeper of Comfy Pajamas. Slayer of Cramps.”

“Slayer of cramps, huh?” you echoed, smiling into the pillow.

“Well,” he teased, nuzzling the back of your neck, “I like to think I’m pretty heroic.”

“You kind of are,” you admitted sleepily. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

His fingers slowed, his touch becoming softer, almost like a lullaby. Your body, still sore and aching, finally began to let go of the tension it had clung to all day. His presence wrapped around you like a blanket, and for the first time in hours, you could breathe.

Finnick’s voice was the last thing you heard before sleep crept in.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Sleep. I’m right here.”

And you did. Wrapped in warmth and saltwater softness, the pain faded into the background. Not gone, but not winning either.

Because with him, everything was better.

Finnick was gentle and steady and completely yours.

[wurlii]

hi could you write one about cho sang-woo: we are a young girl (20) and he decides to take us to the motel for f*k (smut/humping) ty.

⋆ look don’t touch,

pairing: cho sang-woo x fem!reader

summary: there’s detachment in the way he likes to do things, but your lack of restraint is making it hard.

cw: dry humping, female masturbation, implied age gap, degradation if you squint, teasing. lowercase intended, no use of y/n.

word count: 0.7k

— the curtains are drawn tight, but the glow of the streetlights leak through the damp room.

his back is straight against the headboard and the top buttons of his shirt are undone. gold light slices across his bare chest and you feel so small, straddled across his lap.

“don’t pout,” he murmurs, his voice scraping deep at the base of his throat.

he toys with the hem of your skirt, puddling on the top of your thighs, the pads of his fingers skimming over the span of soft skin. your need drenched through cotton and dragging against rough fabric as you roll your hips defiantly.

he exhales hard through his nose, grip tightening when you fail to stifle your whimpers. his eyes are dark as he listens, pupils simmering and hands boiling where they move to rest on your waist. one shifting to rest flat on your stomach, thumb brushing just under your ribs.

your knees dig deeper into the mattress underneath him, legs shaking with the effort. his eyes flick downward to the press of your clit against the seam of his zipper, the metal unforgiving as you push harder.

“you’re making a mess,” he’s hard under you, thick and straining against his slacks, and he says it like it’s your fault, but you feel him every time you move.

sang-woo leans his head back, the stretch of his bare throat glittering the same way his chest had. shadows catch on the cut of his jaw, stubble growing there, and you rock your hips again. “just so greedy.”

you try to respond, but your mouth falls open around the words, pulling a sound from the both of you. it’s sharp, quiet and wrapped in the shame of having to meet somewhere neither of you will talk about when you leave.

you don’t discuss the flower patterned curtains or the disconnected phone on the nightstand, the lingering smell of what strangers had done before it was your turn. you can’t when sang-woo shifts his hips up into you, tilting to press himself deeper.

your forehead falls forward near his neck, you whine and his hands don’t leave you.

“so pathetic.”

“please,” you breathe, voice broken in the static.

both of his palms travel to your hips, dragging you forward harder. your cunt’s swollen, soaked through cotton and flooded on his tailored slacks. the rhythm’s sloppy, messy with slick and startled gasps.

“you going to come like this?”

you nod without thought and he groans.

you grind down harder, the zipper still where you need him to be. the heat in your stomach twists, legs trembling where they cage his hips. “rubbing your pussy all over me?”

his hands flex, holding you down, forcing you to stay pressed against his cock. his jaw ticks and his thigh flexes under you. he shifts his head, ghosts a kiss hot at your temple and he doesn’t stop moving you. he can feel you getting closer when he mutters, “you like it messy, hm?”

it’s written in the way you rock against the outline of him, carved in the way you can’t close your mouth.

“like ruining me?”

you’re helpless, chasing friction with short, tight circles on his clothed thigh. your own are aching.

his hand leaves you for a split second and in the panic to feel the familiar, calloused touch, you reach for his wrist, collapsing into his chest when the heel of his palm grinds against your centre.

“sang-woo,” you cry into the gleam of skin at his collarbone.

“i know,” he says quietly. “i’ve got you.”

at his words, you come with a choked sob and his cock’s still hard beneath you. untouched as you slow the roll of your hips, your face buried in the curved of his shoulder.

you’re still panting as he sighs into your hair, cradling the back of your neck as your eyes flutter closed.

“so good.”

౨ৎ ⋆ sorry if you hate this anon D: thank you for requesting regardless!

[lqveharrington]

i love ur writing! can u do one for young coriolanus about like reader was basically lucy gray in the situation kinda but you were his tribute and after u guys won you go back to district 12 and kind along the lines of how billy taupe wanted u back and coryo was starting to get jealous and one of the nights when u were doing a show billy taupe wanted to sing with you but u rejected him and instead of leaving he kept trying kinda like in the movie when that happens so coryo isn’t happy with that and like the all out fight happens and u can end it on whatever note u want

i might be back for more too i love coryo especially peacekeeper version and ur writing is too good 😉😉

My Covey Girl | C.S.

Summary: aka Coriolanus gets possessive over his flower.

Pairing: peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x covey!reader

Includes: fighting, bruising, cursing, maude ivory is your sister, Coriolanus calls you covey, manipulation (?)

a/n: i wrote more for Coriolanus than any other man in my entire life

The Hob was roaring with excitement and laughter from peacekeepers and coal miners alike, everyone coming down to unwind and enjoy the performance the one and only Covey band would put on. Every show put on felt like the only time everyone could co-exist naturally. No peacekeeper quarreled with the district group and no district group egged on the peacekeepers.

It had been that way since you had come back from winning the 10th Annual Hunger Games.

After coming back from the Capitol, and learning that you won due to unforeseen circumstances, you had put on a performance every night you could. You missed performing for a crowd that truly admired and loved you, it was one of the things you absolutely craved back in the Capitol.

Every show was different and no one could say they saw the same thing twice. One night you could be singing multiple upbeat songs to get the crowd jumping, then next day you’d only perform only one song before hopping off stage.

Nevertheless, the Hob was always full of people who wanted to see the girl who won the Hunger Games by outperforming everyone else. Every seat, every table, every damn available space to stand was occupied by a patron just so they could catch a glimpse of you.

Tonight was no different.

While there were huge crowds already filling the Hob, you heard from Tam that there were lines leading out of the entrances. The owners of the pub began to let people who would only pay extra inside once they learned their space would be occupied every night.

“Man, this has got to be something else.” Tam shook his head as he listened to the multitude of conversations happening right outside the garage door, giving you an impressed look. “You’re telling me that all of this is because you won the fucking games?”

You glare at Tam’s use of foul language, opening your mouth to reprimand him although Barb got to him first.

“Tam Amber, there is a child present!” She flicked his arm and gestured to Maude Ivory who smiled brightly at him. Barb rolled her eyes at Tam before turning her attention back to you, her gaze softening when she saw you fidgeting with a necklace you obtained from the Capitol.

“He is right though. This is probably the biggest crowd we’ve gotten since you’ve come back.”

You bite your bottom lip and peer out the door, eyes roaming across the people scattered across the room. You weren’t nervous about performing in front of big crowds, but you were nervous about the amount of people in the venue.

More people meant an increase in tension, and if one person looked at someone the wrong way, then the Hob would break into hell and cause a scene nobody wants. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

Maude Ivory slipped an arm around your waist, looking up at you with so much pride. “Everyone will lose their minds when they see you tonight.”

Smiling, you press a kiss to the top of her head and squeeze her shoulder, appreciating that she did her best to ease your mind off the growing crowd. “Not as much as y’all when ya get ‘em ready for me.”

She grinned and grabbed her drum, following the rest of the Covey band out of the garage and up on the Hob stage. Maude Ivory waved back at you as you gave her a thumbs, chuckling when you heard her voice projected over the enthusiastic cheers of the patrons.

You walked the length of garage, listening and humming to the song your dear sister was signing when the metal of the door squeaked. You jumped at the sound and spun around, getting flashbacks from the games when you meet oh-so familiar blue eyes.

“I’ll be damned.” You say softly and drop your fidgeting hand from your necklace, taking small steps toward the boy who stole your heart back at the Capitol. “What’re you doing here?”

He matched your steps and let his gaze settle on your figure. It had been a while since he last saw you, and he noticed how comfortable you were back home rather than in the Capitol. It was to be expected, but he hated that you didn’t long for his protection as much—especially since you seemed to be loved everywhere you went in District Twelve.

“Long story.” Coriolanus shrugged and looped his finger in your leather belt, tugging you closer to him with a sly grin. “Missed you.”

You smile and wrap your arms around his neck, scrunching your nose when your fingers touched his buzzed hair. “Your curls, Coriolanus. You’re beautiful curls…”

“All went to a good cause, covey.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips, his free hand coming down to rest on your hip.

“The cause being?” You ask and tilt your head, melting into his touch.

Coriolanus squinted his eyes at your curiosity, picking you up and spinning you around. Your laughter filled the air at the sudden action, making him kiss the side of your head. “To see you, of course. I asked them to transfer me to this District all for you.”

You click your tongue, “Went through a lot just to see a girl you mentored for a month.”

“Maybe I really liked her.” He teased and gave you a proper kiss, tugging you closer until your chest was touching his.

Sure, Coriolanus missed you, but finally having you in his arms again felt so much better then just expressing the thought. He liked knowing where you were and if you were alright, even if that meant breaking some rules. Which landed him in the Districts in the first place. Luckily bribery was still a thing in the Capitol.

In the end, the only thing he really wanted was you.

He began to press soft kisses to your lips over and over again, “Heard from a bunch of people that you sing down here often.”

You hum into his kisses, every sense focusing solely on the boy in front of you. “I practically grew up singing on that dingy stage.”

Coriolanus made a quiet noise of acknowledgment before straying from your lips, making a trail down your neck and over your collarbone before you finally stopped him. He pulled away from you and met your dazed gaze, eyes dropping to your swollen lips and tinted cheeks, eyes shining in pride sight.

“I think it’s your turn up on that stage, covey.” He nodded toward the exit of the garage as Maude Ivory finished her song, smirking when you cleared your throat and tucked your hair behind your ears. “I’ll be watching in the audience.”

“After that stunt you pulled, you better enjoy the stupid show.” You mumble to him and grab your guitar, gasping when he pulled you in for one last kiss. You pull away and glare half-heartedly at him, “You have no shame, Coriolanus Snow.”

He winked and you left the garage with a smile, screams erupting when you stepped on the stage with the same energy and enthusiasm as you always did.

“Aren’t y’all a cheerful bunch!” You give them a quick spin, dress flowing perfecting by your side before you nudged your head back toward the rest of the Covey. “Did the Covey warm y’all up for me?”

More choruses of replies echoed from the crowd, making you grin and strum your guitar subconsciously. Yours eyes scanned the premises before locking them with Coriolanus’ as he made his was back from the garage, your eyes lighting up when he nodded at you.

“That’s great.” You note and begin playing the guitar with purpose, the Covey catching on to the song you were going to sing. “Now, I think it’s time I sang, yeah?”

Cheers erupted when you sang an upbeat song, the regulars clapping, stomping, and dancing to the music. The newcomers just nodded to the beat, but loved the tune anyway. For a split moment, you believed this is what life could be without the Hunger Games.

Just pure enjoyment.

On the other side of the Hob, Coriolanus admired you for the distance. From the moment he saw you on the screen, he knew you were a born performer. He saw how in love you were with singing and dazzling the crowd. It was your calling. Every note, every word, every single strum of the guitar was perfect. Coriolanus saw that you were natural at entertainment.

But he wasn’t the only one who believed that.

Coriolanus noticed the expressions of the other men when you would sing toward the crowd—making them believe you were singing solely for them—or spinning way too fast that your skirt rode up higher than intended. It was only a matter of time before someone did something stupid.

As the song finished, you met Coriolanus’s eyes once more and sent him your own wink, causing the audience to holler in disbelief and awe. You both knew it was trouble to even be near one another, but that never stopped either of you back in the Capitol, why should it stop you back in your hometown?

“Wow y’all, I am exhausted.” You chuckle into the microphone, kindly thanking one of the patrons for the drink they offered you. “Are guys just as tired? Or should I keep singing for y’all?”

“Sing another song!” Someone shouted from the crowd, making you laugh and adjust your hold on your guitar.

You jokingly squint your eyes as you try to make out who suggested it from the crowd of chatty peacekeepers and miners, “Well, it is my job to perform, ain’t it?”

The people screamed in elation, shouting your name repeatedly. A huge smile decorated your face, but before you could even begin to direct the Covey on what song to sing, a familiar voice rang out, making your stomach churn in discomfort.

“Hey, pretty songbird!” Billy Taupe grinned from the front of the stage, looking up at you with drunken eyes. “I’d like to request a duet between you and me. Just like the old time.”

You grimaced and tried to tug his hands off your skirt, creasing your brows at his sudden intrusion. “I-I’m sorry, but this is only for me and the Covey on stage—“

“Oh, come on, I was part of all this before y’all kicked me out! Hell, I started this!” He began to shout over the loudness of the Hob, causing everyone to turn their head toward the sudden commotion.

The rest of the Covey looked at you in horror as Billy gripped your skirt tighter. You handed Tam your guitar and placed both hands on your skirt, going back and forth between Billy in frustration.

The newer peacekeepers and patrons didn’t understand that this was terrible, yet not even the older ones came to your aid. They simply watched. They weren’t on duty, this technically wasn’t part of their pay.

“Billy, let go of me—!” You tug and glare at the boy before a fist met his jaw, causing you to stumble backwards at the shock and impact. “Oh shit.”

Coriolanus had punched Billy. Chaos ensued between everyone. He started the brawl between peacekeepers and the District Twelve miners. Shouts and curses were heard from every direction as Coriolanus continued to fight with Billy.

You frantically ushered the Covey off the stage and back into the garage, hastily avoiding thrown punches and broken beer bottles. You grabbed Maude Ivory’s hand and yanked here into the room quickly before Barb did a headcount, sighing when everyone was present and counted for.

“What the hell is Billy Taupe doing back here? I thought he was banned.” You breathed heavily, letting your sister clutch you tightly in terror.

“He might’ve gotten in undetected.” Barb muttered and seized Tam by the arm, glaring at Clerk Carmine—CC—and believing it was him who let his brother inside. “We gotta get out before they send working peacekeepers down here to get to the bottom of this brawl.”

Tam and Barb left first, CC following close behind with an annoyed look passing through his face. He would rather die than let his jerk of a brother back into the Covey’s safe space.

More shouts were heard when you looked down at Maude Ivory, rubbing her arms softly until she calmed down long enough for you to speak.

“It’s our turn to go, alright, baby? We’ll have to be quick.” You say softly, eyes darting between her and the closed door that led straight into the Hob. “Can ya do that for me?”

She nodded quickly before gasping loudly at the sound of the metal hinges of the door, jumping back into your figure when Coriolanus stumbled into the garage.

“What are you doing?” You whisper-shout and look up at him, frowning at his bloody nose and already bruising cheek. “Let me clarify, what were you thinking, Coriolanus?”

Maude Ivory stared at the two of you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a second before recognizing the name. “The mentor…”

You nod in response and step closer to him, cupping his jaw and tilting his head to see the full effect of the bruising. “Coryo…”

“I wasn’t gonna let that man touch you when you were clearly uncomfortable, covey.” He put his hand over yours and kissed your palm, pursing his lips when you sighed. “I was protecting you from the terrible people here.”

“Well,” You pause and wince when you heard a loud thud right outside the door. “Thank you. Just…”

“You won’t lose me again, I’ll make sure of it.” He squeezed your hand, catching your quick smile at the silent promise. “Now go, your sister looks like she’s ready to leave this terrible place.

You nod and press a soft kiss to his bruised cheek, “Get better, soldier.”

“You missed.” He crossed his arms and watched you roll your eyes, smiling when you pressed a kiss to his lips. “I feel better already.”

“I’ll see you later, Coriolanus.” You shake your head in amusement and guide Maude Ivory out of the garage, a faint blush still dusting your cheeks.

Coriolanus watched you leave before entering the Hob once more and finding Sejanus, dragging him out of the place too. He did whatever it was to keep you safe.

After all, you were his covey girl.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[littlejoels]

I literally don’t have any ideas for a request other than I need more Jon snow x reader smut because he’s a favorite omg omg

notes: i was literally finishing this one up when i got this request!

your chamber isn’t normally this silent, especially when servants are murmuring beyond the stone or loud fire crackling in the hearth. but the moment you shut the door behind jon, it feels like silence.

his eyes don’t leave you, not once. not while you untie the ribbons at your throat, or as you walk toward him, knowing he’s watching your body sway beneath the silk gown. “i am leaving at dawn,” he says hoarsely.

you smile, “that is not a no.”

he doesn’t smile back, instead watching you intently. “you should not—”

“jon,” you say, stepping into him, chest against chest, lifting your chin, “do you really think i brought you up here for milk and poetry?”

he exhales like he's getting stabbed; even his hands twitch at his sides, the restraint in him could strangle an ox. maybe a couple of oxes. “i think,” he says, lowly, lust filling in his tone. “i think that if i touch you, i am not going to stop.”

“then do not stop.” you reach for his cloak, tug the heavy black wool down his shoulders. “if you leave me aching and untouched, i swear to the gods i will throw myself into the blackwater and haunt your sorry oath-breaking ass for the rest of your life.”

that gets somewhat of a half-smile from him. “haunt me, huh?” he backs you toward the bed, fingers catching your wrist. “maybe i should die here, then.”

“no,” you pull him closer. “you should live through it. remember it every fucking night on that frozen wall.”

he kisses you before the bed catches your knees. it’s rougher than usual. you break apart just long enough to drag your nightdress over your head—silk pooling to the floor—and his mouth parts like he’s seeing something almost forbidden.

“fuck,” he breathes, looking down at you. “you are...you are beautiful.”

“of course i am,” you smugly purr, dragging him down with you. “i am royalty, am i not?”

he lets out a raspy laugh and sinks between your thighs; you feel his breath before his mouth, ghosting over the inside of your thigh. his hands push your already open legs wider, fingers gripping firmly against your knees. “jon,” you whisper, already flushed. “if you tease me, i will have you beheaded before you leave.”

his grin is completely feral, “then i would die happy.” and with that, he dives right in.

his tongue moves slowly and certain, memorizing you with every stroke. he groans against you, hungrily as if he’s the one being undone.

“fuck,” he pants into you, his once steady voice now broken and ragged. “so good..i knew it.”

“do not—do not stop,” you choke out. “do not—gods, jon—do not fucking dare—”

thankfully, he doesn’t. his mouth works you open with passionate precision, tongue circling, then pressing harder, faster—unrelenting. each flick of the tongue lighting up your every nerve, pushing you closer to the moment you've been waiting for since you met him.

he looks up once, eyes almost black and watering with need, “watch me.” you lock eyes with him as he groans, circling you just right.

you cry out, pulsing around his tongue while he holds you down and rides out every wave of yours. when he finally lifts his head, his mouth is shining and his smirk was truly pure as sin. “bastard,” you breathe.

“mmhm,” he kisses your inner thigh, slow. “say it again.”

you grab his shirt, yank him up over you. “bastard.” he kisses you hard, making you taste yourself on his tongue. you moan into his mouth, hips rising to meet thick ones. “take it off,” you growl. “i want you naked. now.”

he strips fast. furs, leather, shirt—gone. his body is broad, battle-scarred, lean and strong and too damn beautiful for a man sworn to freeze himself celibate. you reach down between you, stroke him very slowly, just to see him twitch a bit.

“you want to fuck me?” you ask sweetly, palm circling the head, teasing with deliberate cruelty.

his jaw tightens, a flicker of heat in his eyes. “gods, yes.”

“then do it.”

but instead of plunging into you, he leans in close—breath scalding against your lips. “next time,” he whispers.

your glare could kill, “jon snow..”

instead of speaking, he pulls you into him, “i just want to stay here a while,” he murmurs into your hair, “just like this.” your heart punches your ribs. he’s hard against you, burning hot, and yet he still won’t take you.

he’s leaving for the wall in a few hours, and you wanted to fuck him so hard he’d never forget you. but now, with him just holding you, you lean into his warmth and decide to savor every quiet second before he’s gone.

special tags: @inbred-eater , @carmysdoll , @lowrisemiller, @bluemerakis

[nikipuff]

Thinking about MC introducing Mychael to friendship bracelets.

Letting Mychael see the collection that you’ve grown over the years, watching him trace each one with wonder in his eyes. And when he tries one on? Oh, the little guy wants to make one so bad.

Why wouldn't he? A little trinket shared between only the two of you, and he was certain that his would be the best.

He's looking up at you, using puppy-dog eyes as he asks in the most soft voice you've ever heard: "Could I make some?"

So three hours and five cans of energy drinks later, he completed it.

His first friendship bracelet.

Various shades of green, mixed in with oak brown, laced around your wrist with a happy smile. A faint blush coated Mychael's cheeks as he looked up at your for your reaction.

A gentle kiss against his forehead.

It was safe to say that Mychael did not make anymore bracelets that night, mainly because he was busy hyperventilating and panicking about the fact that you kissed him.

[inkribs]

𝗮͟𝒓𝒅𝒐𝒓, mr. crawling x gn!reader.

safe for work. no necessary warnings. y/n/reader referred to as MC and uses they/them pronouns for ambiguity.

To live for somebody is the greatest undoing of oneself, Mr. Crawling learned as he admired the way MC’s lashes fluttered shut each night to sleep, or the way they fretted over his comfortability. It was undoing—MC, that is. It was so easy to let them into his life; he practically worshipped them. After all, who wouldn't? They showed them unconditional affection.

A loud giggle escaped the man who laid on MC's bed, comfortably snuggled with them beneath the sheets.

“Like you! Like you many/much!” Mr. Crawling confessed, like he did every night before MC drifted into the world of slumber.

But then, he didn't something much unexpected—a shy, gentle kiss was planted onto the curve of MC’s neck, causing their hair to stand with surprise.

“Mr. Crawling...?” they whispered, eyes wide just a bit before softening, and a reply in their shared language escaped them:

“Me like you too. Like you many/much.”

And MC soon fell asleep, heart soothed and a gentle smile on their lips.

LOTTiE :

just a simple warm-up for fic/drabble writing. hope you enjoyed 🤍

[bruisedboys]

HI MAL <3 congrats on 6k

could i please request a gingerbread house with peeta and the prompt “ you feel like home to me” from the first list i believe? tysm congrats again and happy holidays!!!!!!

I feel the need to explain myself .. this request and blurb are from a year and a half ago oops. so sorry lovely requester, ily and enjoy this 15 month old blurb x

peeta mellark x fem!reader

Peeta bakes you something new every week. An old scone recipe from a family cookbook, a half remembered cherry pie from when he was a kid, cheese buns that he used to make batches and batches of to make a living when he was younger. You love everything he makes. You love tasting those little bits of his younger years, getting to know his parents through their recipes and the things they used to make. You know he doesn’t want to talk about them much, but you think it’s his way of remembering. And you’re so, so happy he wants to share that with you.

Today he’s made a sourdough loaf as big as your head. It’s really, really good. You sit on the porch with him and slather soft butter over huge slices of it. You make tea and he brings his sketchbook and you sit in your lovely, small, peaceful corner of the world, limbs heavy with the warmth of the day.

You don’t know what brings your question on. You suppose it makes you sad that Peeta doesn’t talk much about how he used to live. You don’t want to press. You just want to know, so you can know and love him anyway.

“Do you ever think about home?” You ask him, over the old, worn novel you’re reading. You’re borrowing it from Annie, who’s had it since she was a little girl. It’s wonderful.

Peeta looks up at you from his sketchbook. You wonder what he’s drawing. Most likely a portrait of you. Most of his books are full of them — you laughing in the kitchen, your hands holding a bunch of your favourite flowers, your smile, the freckles scattered on your back, your eyes and how they look in the sun.

“What do you mean?” He asks you.

“I mean, home. Like, District Twelve,” you explain. “How we used to live?”

Peeta gets a thoughtful look on his face. He turns back to his book and sketches for a few more moments before shrugging. “I don’t know. Sometimes, I guess.”

“When you make your mother’s recipes?”

“Yeah. And when I feed the pigs the way my father taught me. When I see the weeds in garden that used to grow on our farm.”

You hum. You’d guessed enough. Still, “Do you ever miss it?”

Peeta puts his pencil down and looks at you. He’s really quite handsome. You feel stunned by it suddenly, and not for the first time. Sandy golden hair, pretty eyes, broad shoulders. You feel like you were made to love him.

“No, not really,” he tells you. “I miss my family, but never really my home.” He reaches out across your shared table, picks up your hand in one of his. His fingers have been calloused by time and roughened by pain. Still, he’s never anything but achingly gentle with you. He pressed his thumb to your wrist and looks at you with those lovely, kind eyes. “You feel like home to me.”

What a striking thing to say. You sit and look at your joined hands, wondering if you might cry. You could. You feel so in love with him it makes your chest ache.

“Really?” You ask softly.

Peeta smiles at you, all things soft. It never fails to surprise you how someone so kind could emerge, scathed but kind all the same, from such a cruel place.

“Of course. Wherever you are is home, you know?”

You do know. You feel the same for him, though you could never put it so sweetly. You’re not good with words, you never have been. You don’t have to be either, not when you’ve got Peeta.

You nod. “Yeah. I know.”

Peeta’s smile grows. His takes your hand and presses it to his smile. Heat prickles along your skin like burning stars, his kiss like a flame. “I’m glad, sweetheart. Do you like the bread? We should take some to Katniss, don’t you think?”

And there he goes again, with his heart of gold. You don’t think you could possibly love him more.

[potatoplace]

🧡💖🔥💭

Can i request it to be the sequel of the other Eris one? 👉🏻👈🏻

-🪐

Morning Confusion

Alpha!Eris x Omega!Reader

Part 2 to Delicious

Warnings: Omegaverse, nudity

🧡 Eris 💖 Fluff 🔥 Omegaverse 💭 Amnesia

Notes: of COURSE you can have a part 2 😚 this was so fun to write, ignore if anything wonky cause I wrote this in a gap at work, then at like 1am then finished it now lmao BUT I love me a soft Eris that's soft for his wifey yessss pls 🤭 Request Post

18+ only pls

🧡🤍🧡🤍🧡

Your body ached as you came to, a pounding headache behind your eyes and your throat dry as a desert.

You managed to roll over, blinking your eyes open only to shut them in fear.

The ceiling above you was foreign, and when you looked around, nothing else sparked a memory of how you might have gotten here.

A soft sigh sounded to your right, your eyes widening as you turned your head, landing on a male.

Like a bolt of lighting, you leapt from the bed, pulling the sheets and blankets with you when you realized you were naked.

The wooden wall was cold against your back as you clutched the covers to your chest, eyes locked on the male you'd been sleeping next to.

That was a bit of a mistake, as you could see he was also naked and... aroused.

A whine left your chest as you watched him wake, his head snapping to the side. Amber eyes met yours, a smile slipping onto his face as he looked at you, falling when he scented the fear radiating from you.

"What's wrong, omega?" His husky voice asked, only serving to confuse you.

Omega?

"I'm a beta," you answered reflexively, eyes narrowing when the male stood, crossing the room in a few paces to stand in front of you.

"Unless you have a twin who traded places with you overnight, that's not true any longer. You presented, love," the male explained, eyes searching for any hint of recognition in your gaze. "Do you remember being in your family's orchard?"

A memory played at the edges of your mind, bits and pieces of plucking apple after apple. You nodded hesitantly.

"Good. Do you remember what happened after?" A shake of your head had a bit of disappointment in his eyes, and he stepped back slightly. "Why don't we wash up and get dressed, and we can discuss this over breakfast? Would that be alright?" He asked gently as he look you over, frowning at the way you still had the covers clutched to your body.

A small nod from you had his right hand extending, and you took it hesitantly. The male led you through one of the many doors, revealing a grand bathroom, a large bathing pool taking up half of the room, steam wafting from it invitingly.

"Bathe for as long as you'd like, I'll have someone waiting to help you dress," the male said, a soft smile sent your way before he turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, your body slumping slightly now that you were alone. A minute passed, waiting for him to change his mind about leaving you be, and you deemed it safe to drop the blankets covering you.

The water was heavenly, already heated to the perfect temperature for you. As you let yourself soak, it crossed your mind to stay in here all day - then you wouldn't need to confront whatever it was that had happened.

But that wouldn't be fair to your host, you thought to yourself. After all, he's done nothing untoward with you, that you can recall.

So you washed yourself, taking your time but not lingering in the water for longer than you felt you needed.

The soft, fluffy red towels felt amazing on your skin, still sensitive from whatever it had been through, and you wrapped your body and hair in them before leaving the bathroom. You peeked out, blushing when you noticed that two ladies already had their eyes on you.

"Hello, Lady," they said in unison, curtsying elegantly before approaching you slowly. "The..." one of them paused, looking at the other briefly before turning back to you. "There's a selection of clothing for you to choose from, Lady, and we'll help you dress once you've chosen." She gestured behind you, and once you turned your eyes were met with the sight of a walk-in closet, filled with beautiful gowns of every color, though most were in the Autumn Court's colors.

You gaped at the choices before you, turning back to ask why you were being granted such things-

"He wanted to have more choices ready for you once your heat had passed, but as it was only eight days, he regrets that he was unable to acquire you a complete wardrobe," the second lady said, bowing deeply in apology.

"No, it's- it's too much," you whispered, turning back to the wardrobe - apparently yours - and wondering just who the male was, if he could assemble this in just over a week.

After a few minutes of taking in the beautiful patterns and cuts, you decided on your dress. It was made of a beautiful crimson silk, with flowing skirts and sleeves that ended just past your elbows.

The ladies that had been sent to attend to you had slowly removed the towel from around you body, quickly helping you slip into a pair of knee-length bloomers, soft white silk trimmed with pale pink lace, then a matching chemise was pulled over your head, careful not to tug on the towel still holding your hair.

They guided you to a vanity, sitting you in the plush chair before unwrapping your hair. One of them set to drying your hair carefully with a flame from her hand, while the other retrieved a white cotton corset. Soon you were laced up, two warm petticoats on and the beautiful dress was lowered over your head, fitting you perfectly.

You admired the way you looked in the mirror, swishing the skirts a few times before you let them continue dressing you, putting a pair of satin slippers on your feet and draping a delicately woven wool shawl over your shoulders, burnt orange in color.

Now that you were dressed properly, you felt much more ready to face... Whatever it was that had happened.

You were lead out of the room by one of the ladies, the other staying behind - likely to change the sheets that reeked of sex, a fact that wasn't lost on you. You tried to pay attention to where you were being taken, each turn you took noted in case you had to make your escape.

A delicious smell - crisp apples and leaves, the tiniest hint of smoke - that would have made your toes curl if you were sitting hit you as you stopped outside a set of double doors, the kind fae who'd led you here opening them and gesturing for you to pass through. Once you had, they shut behind you, leaving you in a large dining room, the male you'd been with earlier standing at the far end of the table.

His long legs carried him easily to you, he offered an elegant hand to you, golden rings adorning each finger. At your acceptance he smiled at you, amber eyes warming. "You look stunning, Y/N. I am Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court. I'm pleased to formally make your acquaintance," he said smoothly, soft lips pressing to the back of your hand.

A blush rushed to your cheeks, not only at it being your High Lord you had been in bed with and had now kissed your hand like you were a lady, but also at realizing the wonderful scent that enticed you was him, not the food laid out on the far end of the table.

"It's nice to meet you, High Lord," you said shyly, letting Eris lead you to the far end of the table.

"There's no need for such formalities here, Y/N," he replied as he pulled a chair out for you, pushing you in once you'd sat. "Please, call me Eris." His words were earnest, and those soft, amber eyes nearly had you melting from the amount of care held in them.

"Alright, Eris." He grinned widely for a moment, eyes sparkling before it softened into a charming smile. "You... You said I was in my family's orchard?"

"Yes, you were... Your first heat hit, rather quickly I think. I was on my way to visit your family, and you must have scented me through the trees, as you found me while I was still approaching the estate. Does any of that sound familiar to you, love?"

You bit your lip, fuzzy memories attempting to surface, but there was nothing clear. "Vaguely? I... I remember I hadn't felt well all morning, but the High Lor- you were coming to visit and we needed more harvest to present," you said slowly.

"And from what you told me during your heat, you're twenty, correct?" You nodded. "That's past the point most people have their presentation. It's no wonder you woke up confused," Eris said gently, grasping your left hand in one of his.

"So, I'm..." Your lips fell into a pout. "I'm really an omega?"

His thumb swiped over the back of your hand, and he nodded. "You are an omega. And..." He hesitated a moment, the first time you'd seen his confidence falter. "And I'm your alpha, if you'll have me."

If?

"You mean I... I could say no?" You asked in a small voice.

"Of course. I'm not interested in having an omega who doesn't want me, though I would be... quite sad, to see you go," Eris admitted.

Handsome? Check. Kind? Check. Not interested in imprisoning you? Check. High Lord...? Check.

"I'd never..." You held your lip between your teeth for a moment. "I haven't been prepared to be Lady."

Hope glimmered in those amber eyes, a small smirk on his lips. "Does that mean you'll be my omega?"

A shiver went up your spine, eyes fluttered, a purr rumbling in your chest before you could stop it, eliciting a delightful laugh from your alpha. "That also means you're my alpha," you boasted, satisfaction filling you when Eris's eyes darkened, a deep rumble coming from him.

"I'm glad we agree. Now, what would you like to eat?" Eris asked, picking up the plate from your setting and waving to the array of food laid out.

"Let's see..."

🧡🤍🧡🤍🧡

[amethystarachnid]

A drabble of grumpy stark and clingy & funny af y/n please?

much love! 💞

GRUMPY TONY STARK WITH A FLIRTY READER - A Drabble

You steal his wrench mid-tinker. He glares. You wink. “Trade you for my number.” He snatches it back. “I already have it.” “Then why aren’t you using it?”

“Stop humming.” Tony grumbles over his coffee. You lean in, lips brushing his ear. “Make me.” He shoves a donut in your mouth. “Temporary fix.”

You blow him a kiss during a meeting. He deadpans. “This is serious.” “So are my lips. Wanna see?”

“You’re distracting me.” “From what? Your brooding?” You plop onto his lap.

“JARVIS, lock her out.” “Afraid I can’t do that, sir. She bribed me with cat videos.” You smirk. “AI’s got taste.” Tony groans. “Traitor.”

He catches you doodling hearts on his blueprints. “Vandal.” You bat your lashes. “Artist.” “Same thing.” “Then arrest me.” He mutters. “Tempting.”

And once you tow get together...

Tony claims he doesn’t cuddle. Yet every morning, you wake up with his arm slung over your waist like a possessive octopus. "This is a security measure," he grumbles. "You steal blankets."

Movie night. You pick a rom-com. He groans. "I’d rather rebuild an engine blindfolded." Ten minutes in, he’s critiquing the science. You kiss him mid-rant. "Still talking?" He shuts up.

You wear his MIT hoodie. He tries to act annoyed. "That’s vintage." You spin. "Looks better on me." He tugs you closer. "Debatable." Then steals it back—only to hand it to you the next day.

"Stop leaving Post-its on my suits." You grin. "Or what?" He pulls one off the Iron Man armor—"Kissed by the best <3"—and smirks. "I’m charging you for vandalism. Payment due in kisses."

"Tony. Tony. Tony." "What." "Love you." He sighs. "I was this close to a breakthrough." You poke his cheek. "Breakthrough this: say it back." "...Love you. Now go away." (You don’t.)

He buys you ridiculous gifts—a mini arc reactor nightlight, a coffee mug that says "Stark’s Favorite Distraction." You tease him. "Sentimental much?" He scoffs. "Tax write-offs." (The blush says otherwise.)

You dance in the kitchen. He pretends to hate it. Then his hands slide to your hips. "Fine. One song." FRIDAY "accidentally" loops it. He doesn’t complain.

Press asks about his "mysterious girlfriend." He deadpans. "She’s a menace." You wave at cameras behind him. "Hi, I’m the menace!" He drags you away—but not before you see his smirk.

[inhuman-obey-me]

Barbatos and 8 because chaos 😈😈😈 (you guys are my favs congrats of 100k!!!!!)

Barbatos + 8: "Dead Walk" - Redhook

Rewriting the past means living without consequences. What freedom, for a demon to exist this way.

"Did you do something you need to atone for?"

Barbatos chuckles regretfully across the table at you.

"Indeed. Something I can never hope to undo."

He begins to reach over the table as if to take your hand, but he pauses just before his fingers can touch yours and withdraws, seemingly thinking better of it.

"A long time ago, before I came to serve the Young Master, I used to travel through the realms freely. Sometimes even through space and time. I never thought to think twice about the feelings of others I met along the way…nor in how my actions may or may not affect them."

Yes, his life back then — a life without consequences, or so he'd thought. Pop a portal here, twist a timeline there, and it was as though he'd never been there at all. Back then, it was nothing more to him than a trivial use of his power, and who was anyone to tell such a powerful demon not to do as he liked?

Well, you, for one. That's always been something charmingly strange about you — your willingness to throw yourself in harm's way and assert your opinion of how those as powerful as those demon brothers should act, even before you had made your pacts with them.

You tilt your head questioningly at him, waiting for him to continue, and he pulls back to himself, putting on a simple smile to reassure you.

"It was that mindset that led to me making a terrible mistake. One that…ended up having a great effect on the lives of Solomon and the Young Master."

He goes quiet again, remembering the moment he'd realized what he'd done — the desperate tremble in the young prince's voice, the lonely tears in his little eyes as he begged his one rare visitor to stay with him at the castle. He'd been too young to understand that Barbatos himself was the reason he lived that way.

If he were to find out now, of course, Barbatos fears how things would change. Diavolo is too just to allow Barbatos to assign himself this penitence forever, even if he did genuinely take joy in keeping himself by the royal's side. He didn't mind never using his powers without explicit instruction from his master; it had been his own suggestion. And was it so bad to chain himself, really, if he'd placed the shackles upon himself?

He'd tasted enough freedom to come to regret it.

"What kind of effect?" you prod, pulling him back to the present again with a tug on his hands, which he'd apparently placed over yours after all while lost in his thoughts.

He frowns and sits back abruptly. "I am not able to tell you the details of that yet," he snaps, immediately regretting how harsh the words come out. He tries again, more gently, "Forgive me for bringing it up. I didn't mean for the conversation to turn this way. It's rare for me to start talking about myself."

After all, it wouldn't do for the past to come back to haunt him. He'd gotten by this long without his secrets coming out; he didn't intend to start revealing them now.

But then, why had he confessed to you even this much?

"Perhaps a part of me just wanted you to understand a little more about myself."

You blush a little bit, bringing another careful smile to his face.

A part of him — just a small part, one he's suppressed for centuries now — thinks of how nice it would be to affect your feelings, your life. To leave some impression of his existence upon you.

Why else would he want you to understand him?

He feels the temptation to tell you on his tongue, in his teeth.

But, no. He'd decided to bury that old self — nailed the coffin shut on it, and wouldn't let it rise again. So that the consequences he'd always escaped wouldn't bury everything he cared about now.

That past must remain secret.

He won't go back to what he's always been.

[fandom-puff]

Can I please request “It’s not my fault you keep turning me on” with Tyrion Lannister?

Thank you for your request!!

Warnings: references to smut, no actual sex tho, morning after a wild night.

“Hmmm… good morning,” Tyrion mumbled as he nuzzled his face into your hair, inhaling the sweet smell of your soap and sweat leftover from the night before.

“Mmmm…” was your response, your eyelids barely flickering open. Already you could feel the dull ache between your thighs as a result of your intense coupling, and Tyrion’s seed was smeared and dried on the inside of your legs. And more pressingly, you could feel the hardness of your Lion of Lannister pressing into your back. “Again?” You mumbled. “You’ve already worn me out, my lord,” you teased, though your hips circled temptingly on his cock.

Tyrion let out a gruff laugh. “It is not my fault you keep on arousing me, my Sweet,” he replied, his teeth already grazing against the back of your neck.

[mosaickiwi]

14DWY As a Drama AU

Hey remember when I said I’d post this in February oopsies!! (don’t ask me about demon!ren i will cry)

Open at your own risk this thing is LONG. Tried to give everyone at least a little something! upon putting this in my drafts i realized olivia exists i'll add her at some point uhhh. Also you can tell how much I love Elanor... hehe

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

The cult classic romantic thriller, 14 Days With You, is now a drama! Coming to all your favorite streaming platforms this summer. A whirlwind romance gone right and wrong that you DON’T want to miss.

Cast List

[REDACTED]

🖤 Quiet kid that used the after school theater program to delay returning home. Never wanted to perform, but loved doing costumes, make up, and correcting others (in his mind) on how to portray their roles. 

🖤 Spent a little extra time perfecting the costumes of a certain someone who didn't even know they existed. He always traded house chores with his sister so she'd sit in the audience to solely film Tree #2's performance.

🖤 Was an apprentice special effects makeup artist after graduation at first, particularly for horror films, but it didn't exactly pay the bills when they left home.

🖤 Easily rose to the top in their acting career due to his dedication for crafting characters to perfection. 

🖤 Dolly Parton/Lady Gaga-esque in their separation of work and life—completely unrecognizable in their regular civilian attire. Paparazzi have never gotten a picture of them in all their years trying.

🖤 Has zero issues getting into character, but does "method acting" on occasion to make sure people leave them alone on set. And also to fuck with directors and producers they don't like. Notoriously difficult to work with because of it + their overall attitude towards others, still gets hired somehow.

🖤 Got offered the role as the main love interest in 14DWY without an audition, thanks to a previous manipulative pink haired character he played in a film that ended up never being released. (2017 Ren because it's funny)

 Angel (you!)

💜 Participated in the same after school theater program as [REDACTED] and Leon for a few semesters before you got bored of it. Curiosity for acting resurfaced later in life.

💜 Newbie actor at the recently formed talent agency of your friend. Only starred as non-speaking roles or background characters in small productions until the drama. You moved back to Corland Bay after uni for the better industry prospects.

💜 You initially auditioned for a very small role in the drama as an employee in a seaside shop at first, but somehow you wound up as the lead? (un)lucky you.

💜 Feel free to fill in the blank for any whys and hows you think of to fit your OC/self/sona as you so please <3

Elanor

💖 Normally an actress and casting director, first time as an executive producer for the drama. Dreams of bringing her own romantic screenplays to life. Hasn't quite proven herself the way she wants in the industry to feel confident enough in them. 

💖 Catalyst for the drama being made. A "friend" mistakenly recommended the 14DWY book to her. She absolutely loathes all the psychological horror of it but sees the potential it has.

💖 Also the reason [REDACTED] was immediately cast, and you as well once she saw your chemistry with him while reading for a minor role. He hadn't shown a fraction of as much interest when reading lines with other potential candidates, so she decided to take the risk of an untested talent as the headliner.

💖 Refuses to use her family's name to get her stuff made. She wants her works to speak for themselves. Very picky about who she works with due to her family having hands in most of Corland's entertainment industry so she hardly gets a genuine interaction beyond ass-kissing.

💖 Always partial to working with Conan's small studio since he was the only director to give her any sort of criticism in spite of her family, as gentle and polite as it was. She still cried a little in the dressing room though.

💖 Genuine confusion when Conan wants her to act as both a producer and assist with direction. She only intended to bring it to his interest. But how could she say no to someone whose judgment and opinion she respects so much?

Conan

💖 Runs and owns a small scale studio in the Bay that seems to pick and choose its productions at random. It is in fact Alice sneaking into her dad's home office and putting scented stickers on the ones she likes. (She only reads the titles)

💖 Extremely proud of Elanor for getting so far on her own, and would take on one of her dozens of scripts no questions asked if she'd only work up the courage to show him one. So imagine his surprise when she comes to him with a romantic horror instead of one of the fairy tale romances he sees her scribbling notes on during breaks.

💖 While he’s the one with the final say, he does try to let Elanor have as much free reign as possible on the project in the hopes to boost her confidence.

Kiara

💖 A super-star actress and model that got her start in Corland’s local industry, but quickly hit it big. 

💖 When she isn’t drowning in work, she’ll swing through town to check in on her sister.

💖 Desperately wants to star in one of Elanor’s productions, but respects her sister’s desire for independence. Though she does like to tease about certain casting decisions on the drama when made aware of them.

the rest of the cast are unfortunately very silly i couldn't resist

Moth

💖 Started a talent agency out of spite for the terrible castings in their favorite media. Got further invested upon realizing they could read the scripts before the movies or show adaptations were even announced.

💖 The one who pushed you to audition for a minor role in the production once the rumor about who was cast as the main love interest reaches them. They've heard all the horror stories about [REDACTED] so wanted the inside scoop. Horrified and fascinated to find out you get the lead role. It’s like watching a train wreck.

Leon

💖 Joined the theater program initially because of you, but got really into it. Moved away to attend a performing arts school until his mother got sick.

💖 Took every wacky infomercial or street performance gig he could find to pay the hospital bills until Teo found out and swooped in.

💖 Eternally grateful for the burden of financial ruin being relieved, so he always accepts the jobs Teo gets for him. He definitely won’t complain since he’s not dressed in an animal costume and shouting nonsensical slogans for cleaning products.

Teo

💖 Met Leon through a shared production and quickly bonded. Attended a different performing arts school and met Jae as a child.

💖 Almost the exact opposite of his game character purely for the funnies. Shy, introverted, can’t flirt to save his life. Still a nepo baby but he can hold his own in acting. Doesn’t like his character much, but is extremely jealous of the confidence he oozes.

💖 Leon and Jae are his only friends in the industry so he uses his sway to get them parts if they haven't already gotten a call back. Gets REALLY nervous on set for certain roles so he needs their support.

Jae

💖 Attended the same school as Teo when they were kids, and is constantly pitching intentionally bad ideas and joking on set to reassure his friend.

💖 A little bit of a thrill seeker, so does all his own small stunts if he thinks he’s capable. Stands there and gawks watching the more extreme stunts, loudest to clap when they go well.

💖 Kept bringing Maple to the shoots cause how could he even think about leaving her at home? She would occasionally break her leash and wander into a scene for head scratches and kisses. The film crew always booed when a PA came to take her off set.

Violet

💖 Completely terrible at caring for plants. Inspired by her role, she starts vlogging about her plant mom journey before shooting even begins. All her advice is completely wrong and terrible. Her personal assistant keeps her in the dark by tending to the plants themselves to fix her mistakes.

💖 Finds out she has a talent for flower arrangement, though. Does thank you vases for the cast and crew on all her future productions that last a lifetime because her PA made sure all the flowers were fake.

Exposition

(silly on set shenanigans)

🎬 Scenes get retaken quite a bit, since you’re still extremely new to it all. Most of the cast and crew expect anger out of [REDACTED] after the 4th call for a re-shoot on the first day’s library scene, but he’s surprisingly cracking jokes about his dye job and reassuring you that you’re doing great. The infamously ill-tempered actor is smiling somehow… even being patient? Not glaring down his co-star for minor slip ups? They cannot recognize this person.

🎬 Violet and [REDACTED] naturally butt heads on set. She respects their acting, not the actor. Zero hesitation to snap back if he’s getting snarky with a PA. You’re the one people have to beg to separate them, and you’re completely baffled that [REDACTED] doesn’t treat others as nicely as he treats you.

🎬 Even though Elanor is a nervous wreck about the first real thing to ultimately make or break her career, she’s scarily efficient on set—as long as no one distracts her. She does get sidetracked once in a while, only because she loves chatting and answering any questions the cast or crew might have. She even brings one of her own cats to set during a slower day to see if they can get along with Maple. Leaves Conan in charge when the horror scenes are being shot. They’re both put off by how vivid they feel, but Conan at least can grin and bear it. 

🎬 You and Leon manage to catch up on set while [REDACTED] is otherwise occupied shooting said horror scenes. You tease him about a few infomercials you saw when looking up his actor reel, and Leon teases you back about your unlucky streak of being a tree or a rock in every play the theater program put on when y’all were younger. Laughs even harder once he finds out your most prominent roles until then were “unnamed zombie #5 at the bottom of the pile” and “sleeping train passenger.”

🎬 Try as he might, [REDACTED] doesn’t convince Elanor to change up a few crucial parts of the script for his benefit. His offhand threats of leaving the production fall on deaf ears, as she is all too happy to do re-shoots to make Teo the lead. His innocent hints to you about the shoddy script fly over your head for some reason! You love how it's turning out, what does he mean?

🎬 Super shy Teo prefaces and warns his co-stars before acting in every scene of his character being excessively flirty. Most of the actors have worked with him at some point or another beforehand, so they let him go through his routine without issue. Some crew members love the whiplash of him switching between overly courteous and smarmy, others vastly prefer the flirty character and mourn the loss as production comes to a close.

The Build Up

📺 The higher ups pressure Violet to start a short-lived streaming career to boost interest, since she’s hopeless with plants. She amasses a cult following for her MMO reviews, blind raids on new patches, and her wild ride of a Minecraft playthrough. In the end she winds up preferring to play games off stream, but once in a blue moon she’ll do a first time raid stream so her more dedicated fans can join and watch her alliance get wiped. Creative trolling is highly encouraged.

📺 Teo, Jae, and Leon appear on a late night TV show for promotion. It was meant to be for Teo and [REDACTED] at first. (Where’s the leading lover? [REDACTED] refused all promo appearances or sit downs without you being involved in them.) The host plays a clip that Teo’s particularly embarrassed about, and he hides his face in shame when the crowd hoots and hollers praise about his portrayal.

📺 [REDACTED] comes across as doting and overprotective of you once you’re pushed into the spotlight of celebrity, and shows increasingly concerning behaviors as the premiere looms closer. Depending on your response, they’ll back off to a point or dial it up. Interviewers and consumers mistake it as the eccentric actor’s “method acting” so the red flags just slide right past.

📺 Elanor and Conan guest star in a podcast for off-the-cuff romance enthusiasts. Their strangely cagey and joking comments like “there were so many retakes we couldn’t keep track of what was meant to be the actors messing around or part of the final cuts,” and “we’ve actually sent all the reviewers 1 of 14 versions with completely different endings,” leave listeners all the more curious to see the film.

The Climax

🎉 Reception is huge, in good ways for most. The majority of the cast see a surge in popularity if they didn’t already from the hype. 

🎉 Teo bemoans his endless offerings for sarcastic pretty boy jobs, Leon makes enough to get picky about his roles (and pay Teo back), Jae somehow cons a studio into an action film starring Maple—and subsequently adopts every single one of her stunt doubles. 

🎉 Moth throws the agency away to start adapting anime and manga themselves. Elanor finally feels validated enough to bring one of her romantic screenplays to the big screen, starring her sister Kiara and a very enthusiastic Violet as the leading couple. 

🎉 Conan’s studio is overloaded with scripts, and Alice runs out of scented stickers that much quicker. They are severely backlogged send help.

🎉 One determined conspiracy theorist sets out to prove those missing 13 versions of the ending are real, based on minor cuts and inconsistencies purposefully left in the public release.

The End, Roll Credits

choose your own ending

Bad End 💔 - A Falling Star

💔 If you respond negatively to [REDACTED]’s demeanor during shoots and promo: he plays the waiting game, uses his connections and blackmail to make sure all your roles without his name attached don’t garner nearly as much attention as the ones where you’re co-stars.

💔 Your negotiating power quickly plummets as you fall out of demand and end up begging just for the non-speaking roles you once loathed.

💔 The careers of anyone you got close to on set fall apart much faster than yours, before they’re outright blacklisted in the industry.

💔 You begrudgingly call up your last option. He can’t do much for your friends, but their offer to help you make a comeback is always open.

Neutral End 💌 - Just One More Try

💌 If you respond indifferently to [REDACTED]’s demeanor: the drama leads to you getting more offers, though a handful are for playing opposite of [REDACTED], as the on-screen chemistry was too much for studios to ignore for cash grabs.

💌 Elanor has rid herself of the drama’s subsequent rights, despite positive reception, so a sequel sprouts up in the works at a different studio. One that doesn’t mind catering to the whims of their actors when it comes to script integrity.

💌 You arrive on the set to find that not just one, but all of your cast mates except for them were written to have much smaller parts in the sequel. In fact, you rarely find a scene in the revised script where [REDACTED] isn’t alongside you.

💌 Sadly the contract is air tight, just put up with it until it’s over… What’s this clause about further sequels?

Good End 💍 - Off Into the Sunset

💍 If you respond positively to [REDACTED]’s demeanor: you’ll sadly announce at the post premiere press conference that acting was a one-and-done adventure for you. Retired effective immediately, no farewell interviews.

💍 You’re spotted around town for a few weeks in a mask with a tall, darkly dressed companion at your side before you disappear from the public eye and Corland Bay all together.

💍 A few of your friends at least have an idea of where you are, and they meet up with you whenever you're in a nearby city. None of them can recognize the man glued to your side, though. Not that he'd say anything to clue them in.

💍 After months of near inactivity, [REDACTED] mysteriously deletes their socials without a word, sparking confusion and outrage among hardcore fans still desperately hoping for a sequel.

[wurlii]

Hello i have a request can u write one about cho sang-woo where he have a young son and we are engaged, and then we start having a relation with his dad smut and age gap ty.

⋆ everytown there’s a darling,

pairing: cho sang-woo x fem!reader

summary: town saint, house devil; his darling.

cw: infidelity, oral (m!receiving), implied age gap, sang-woo in a dress shirt and his slutty little glasses bc i can’t help myself, i need him so bad. no use of y/n, lowercase intended.

word count: 0.6k

— you’re polite smiles and timid handshakes.

warm skin at the dining table when his hand brushes yours. his blood heats and his lungs burn when he takes a drag of his cigarette, replaying the shy smile when his son plants a kiss to the apple of your cheek.

his composure slips and there’s whitened skin around the slick metal of his fork. you’re apologetic when your gaze shifts to narrowed eyes displayed through glass and he’s stoic in the creak of a wooden chair.

all he can hear is choked sobs and muffled gags when he stares at the hand his son rests on your shoulder. the stroke of someone else’s thumb against your collarbone and your open palm wrapped around his cock. mouth stretched around the tip and your chin wet with your own saliva, precum glossed on the seam of your lips.

willing and knees pressed into tile, sang-woo’s hand lost in the tangles of your hair as the other grips the countertop. he feels the light graze of your teeth and his hips buck forward, tongue at his cheek, glasses slipping on the bridge of his noise.

eyes teary when he continues the assault on your throat, cock cradled on the pink slip of your tongue.

“s’pretty,” he mumbles and your pace falters. nails digging into the back of his thighs, his head tipped back against the cabinet.

he stutters your name in the dark like you aren’t there and you hum around him.

the wet heat of your mouth is ruin, and the subtle ache in his gut, a reminder that you’ll blush under an easy grin from his son when he calls you his girl, is ignored when he picks up his pace.

“f-fuck..” his jaw’s tense. restraint wavers, “look at me.”

his open palm is on your jaw when you open your eyes and there’s no guilt when he finishes with a strangled groan. thumb tracing where your throat bobs, patient when he feels you swallow.

you fall back on the heel of your socked feet. he breathes hard, glasses crooked and the material of his dress shirt stuck to the gleam of sweat on his abdomen. neither of you speak and your fiancé’s voice breaks the silence.

your name lazy on his lips, dry with exhaustion. never said like his dad. your knees still sting, scalp sore, throat cramping when you glance at the staircase.

you quickly adjust the thin fabric of your sleep shirt, fingers wiping at the corners of your mouth, you even bother to smile at him. twitchy like you’ve been caught with your mouth wrapped around him. he hates it.

he hates himself. resents the thoughts that keep him up, the way his dinner has turned to rot in his stomach when he thinks of how much his son spoils you. how it’d be easy for him to do the same when he melts into the folds of spoiled fabric as white as the splatter on his stomach and hand.

you’re stifled moans and the glint of an engagement ring he helped his son pick.

you’re not his.

౨ৎ ⋆ i’m desperate for u to like this anon.