✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter five)
pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader
warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder/violence mention (but no actual murder) , MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, roughhousing, eventual piv, one chapter specific dubcon scene (pls tell me if i forgot anything!)
chapter: 5/6
words: um. 9.5k (sorry? but also you're welcome??)
chapter warnings: this chapter contains a scene that falls solidly into dubcon territory, so please proceed with caution, stay safe out there.
moodboards
series masterlist
a/n: WELL. here we are, almost at the end of our little rollercoaster ride. i've lost brain cells over this chapter, almost cut it up into smaller chunks, but ended up leaving it as long as i originally planned (longer, in fact. whoops). as always, feedback is very welcome + encouraged (i love hearing/reading your thoughts as things progress) buckle up, please do take note of the dubcon warning, prepare for the angst, and most importantly, enjoy!
i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.
He was back to ignoring you again.
But this time, the feeling was mutual. You’d never felt as thoroughly rejected as you did the night he had you walk back to your room, legs weak, wrapped in nothing but his shirt.
Once upon a time, this scenario would have been one you dreamed of, but reality often falls flat on its face. You wouldn’t have dreamt of walking away from him like this if you’d known it would feel this empty.
Humiliation ran rampant through your body, starting with the tears you blinked away as you left his room, closing the door behind you, and then flooding over as you stepped into your own room, slumping on the bed, curling up into yourself and weeping, pressing your still aching legs together but too upset to finish yourself off.
You kicked yourself for getting carried away, for getting too loud, too possessive with his face between your thighs and your hand in his hair. For getting so caught up in the moment, briefly forgetting your games, and for believing even for a second that you would be on the same page.
This push and pull had begun to wear you thin, and you were tired. So, you slept. Until nearly midday the next morning, when Lucille knocked on your door to remind you it was time for your monthly PR debrief.
The good news, though arguable at this point, was that your arrangement hadn’t been affected by recent events. At least, not on paper. Cordelia ran you through each gala, public appearance, and dinner, barely noticing your preoccupation, rambling on about speeches, coordinating outfits, dates and times of events, what to say and how to say it.
For you - and you could only imagine, Coriolanus too - everything had changed over the span of a month.
Your shame made you abnormally quiet, head hung low, gaze averted, nodding along as Cordelia prompted either a response or approval from you. Snow just stared, glancing at her only when completely necessary, but otherwise, he didn’t take his eyes off you.
He was enjoying this. The sick fuck. You were glad when the meeting ended and you could scamper into the library, eager to lose yourself in a story of any kind other than the one you were living.
This went on. By day, you barely looked at him; by night, you tried over and over to prove that your own fingers were enough to keep you satisfied. To convince yourself that you just wanted him, you didn’t need him.
Because if you needed him, then he called the shots. He would win. And victorious as he may seem, the game wasn’t over yet. You’d slipped up in a moment of vulnerability, he’d tricked you into a corner just to prove his point.
You wanted him, you didn’t need him. But if you did… well.
He was going to have to need you more.
You held back this time. Keeping your cards safe, close to your chest. In a strange way, you found a kind of solace in your arrangement. Recent events had caused it to feel unstable, breakable even, but the meeting had ensured that it was all still on the right track. It allowed you to take a small piece of what you wanted from him without guilt or repercussions. After all, it was planned out to benefit you both. Then, when you were ready, and with a gentle hand, you began to weaponise it, loading it up in the barrel of a gun aimed directly at Snow.
You didn't have much left, but you had this. You knew where your promiscuity had led you. This time, you wanted to pull on his heart strings. Make him feel remorse, or whatever similar emotion he was capable of. Make him soften to you. Torture him with almosts that were never enough.
So when you took, you took cautiously, tentatively. You deepened your usually light kisses to what was just past socially acceptable, only to pull back when Snow began to lean in, turning away and smiling at the people surrounding you, or full-on entering into conversation with somebody else. You'd brush your thumb against his when you held hands, waiting for him to look at you, drawing your hand away when he did. You'd offer smiles to everyone but him, talk and laugh a little louder when you could feel him watching.
You pretended he didn’t exist. You could feel him begin to simmer. It wasn't as brazen as your usual game, but it was working.
Until it wasn’t.
“Something’s wrong, what is it?”
Lucille’s face dropped, her shaking hands lowering from the zip she was struggling with. You were getting ready for a luncheon, and you’d picked out an emerald green dress, one of your favorites for daytime events.
“I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice, ma’am. I apologise. It’s my brother, he… it’s getting worse again.”
“Sit down for a second. Talk to me. What’s going on?”
You listened to Lucille open up uncomfortably, visibly nervous that you would offer your financial support as you’d done before. But you didn’t, sparing her from having to turn you down.
Lucille was stubborn - she would never accept your charity. She was more than happy to work for her wages, and frequently worked longer hours. As months went by, you’d brought her pay up as high as you could without her noticing. But now things were getting more critical, and you knew there was only one thing you could do.
“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go and see your brother.”
“But you’re not dressed-”
“I’ll take care of it. Go home, Lucille. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
She smiled softly.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
You’d tried with the zip, you really had. You didn’t want to have to knock on Snow’s office door with two favors to ask instead of one, but the dress was tight and the zip kept getting jammed. So, there you stood, dress half undone at the back, heart in your throat. You counted your blessings; at least it wasn’t his bedroom. You didn’t think you could face him at all in there. You heard typing from inside.
“Come in.”
You pushed the door open, feeling like an intruder.
“Sorry, I just… Could you help me with this?” Your hand tightened behind your back, holding the dress together.
He narrowed his eyes. He was already in his suit, typewriter on the desk in front of him.
“Lucille forget how to do her job?”
“I don’t need snide right now. Please, Coriolanus? I’ll explain when I’m not half naked. It’s drafty in here.”
You tried to make it clear in your tone that this wasn’t some ploy. You weren’t sure you had many of those left to offer.
“Fine.” He sighed, and stood, making no motion towards you, so you crossed the room, gripping onto the fabric, turning your back to him.
His hand came to rest on your waist as the other took the zipper, and you tried not to flinch at his touch. You pressed your lips together as he carefully zipped you up, cold metal sending a chill down your spine. Or maybe that was just him. You felt your eyes slide shut and your lips part as his hand lingered on your waist. You couldn’t hear anything but your heartbeat and the tick of his grandfather clock.
“Is that okay? Not too tight?” His breath on your neck gave you goosebumps, you hoped desperately that he wouldn’t notice.
“No, it’s perfect. Thank you.”
The second his hand fell from your waist, you missed it. You carefully met his eye; he was looking at you like you had something he wanted.
So why hadn’t he wanted you? You’d been right there, and he’d turned you down.
He cleared his throat.
“I should finish this letter before we leave. Was there anything else?”
You paused.
“Actually, there is. Could I ask you a favor?” You glanced off to the side, suddenly very interested in the knots of wood on his desk. What helped was that you'd never seen inside this room before, and you hid behind your curiosity like it was a lifeline.
“What is it?”
“It’s…” you lowered your voice, “it’s about Lucille. Her brother, actually. He’s in the hospital again. The family can’t afford the medical bills to keep him in for as long as he needs. I’d like to foot the bill, but I can’t do it anonymously. I thought… well, I was wondering if you could pull a few strings.”
You were overexplaining, something you weren’t at all used to doing, but these days, just being in the same room as him made you nervous. You stared at his desk, at the lack of photographs on it, the single pen laying to the side, the smoothness of the glaze.
It was quiet for a moment.
“Consider it done.”
You looked up.
“Really?”
“Did you think I’d say no?” He asked.
“I- no, but…”
“It’s something that matters to you.”
You blinked, dumbfounded at how simply he put it.
“Yes. It is. Thank you, Coriolanus.”
“Don’t mention it. I’ll make sure it’s anonymous.”
“Thank you. Or, I mean…”
He looked at you, and you wanted to melt. Wanted to throw strategy out the window, god, but -
You couldn’t. It hadn’t worked last time. You’d hoped to avoid a stalemate, but here you were, sat right in the middle of one.
“The car’s coming in a half hour. Are you almost ready?” He asked.
“Yes. Almost.”
The luncheon was going well, at first. You were at the head of a large table, sat beside Snow, straightening your salad fork as he stood up to make a speech. You’d been glancing at him throughout the afternoon; it wasn’t so hard to anymore. It felt like his willingness to help Lucille without question, just because it was what you wanted, had more of an effect on you in five minutes than the entire week of your teasing had on him. One conversation, and the tides had changed.
As he began talking, you started to realise that your gentler approach may have been affecting you more than it had him. The party was transfixed; people loved to hear him talk, and you were proud. He had a certain way with words; you knew better than anyone. You’d fallen victim to them.
You weren’t sure why his words affected you – you’d been there, you’d agreed when Cordelia had suggested he say something nice about you in this particular speech, really make the crowd swoon, lay it on thick - but when he started to talk about you, about how proud he was to have you by his side, how strong you were-
You knew he was just reciting a script written for him, but you couldn’t help it. The tears began to quietly fall. You thanked whatever higher being was listening for not letting anyone notice.
Or so you thought.
It was just typical that out of all the people that could’ve noticed, the one person who knew better was the only one who did.
The rest of them would’ve brushed it off as you simply being moved by emotion, honored by his kind words. You blinked away your tears, taking small, polite sips of your wine. It was painful because you knew it wasn’t true. None of it was, you knew he could never say those words and mean them.
And he knew that too.
It was dark when you got home, and you trailed behind him awkwardly on your way upstairs.
“Can I have a word?” his voice was gentle, and it set you on edge.
“Sure.”
You stood awkwardly in the hallway, then he led you into the office. He leaned against his desk, and you shifted your feet where you stood, eyes on the floor, on the art on the walls, on anything other than him.
“You were upset today.” He started.
You swallowed.
“It won’t happen again, I promise.” you kept your voice steady. He paused.
“If that was my fault, I apologise. If I took it too far, if I upset you-”
You weren’t sure which part he was talking about, but you finally looked at him in a sort of distant defiance.
“Do you even care if I’m upset?”
“Of course I do. Especially when it’s something that affects you… publicly.”
You huffed, forcing yourself to stare him down.
“Because that’s all that matters, right? What the public sees?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Sure it is. It’s okay, Snow. I’m a big girl. And I can take a hint, too. So don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine. Business as usual, right?”
He just stared, puzzled. You took a breath.
“Look, it’s been a long day. Can I go, or are you going to keep me here all night?”
The silence was like smoke, clouding between you. His brow furrowed, calculating. Then he sighed, long and heavy, and you tried not to let it phase you.
“Fine. Go.”
You nodded.
“Goodnight.”
You’d never been more relieved to get away from him. Your broken walls were starting to build back up. You wouldn’t let him break you, you couldn’t. You were stronger than this.
That night, for the first time, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was truly what you wanted.
“Darling, you look ravishing.” Lilian drawled. “It’s a pity Snow is so far across the room, and can’t appreciate you. If I dressed half as nicely as you did, perhaps my dear husband wouldn’t be screwing the maid.”
A scandalised chorus of giggles erupted from the group. It was a pretty dress, one of your best. Long and smooth black fabric, ruched at the waist, with a deep cut up the leg that was just acceptable for an evening gala. You stood tall, champagne glass in hand, gossiping with your friends.
Well.
Friends was being generous. You kept few true friends, and they would hardly be gossiping in a circle like this.
Acquaintances was a better fit. Pawns if you were being brutally honest. Politicians’ wives, senators’ mistresses, a chancellor’s daughter or two. Pieces of chess, really, in this bigger game. Anyone who could help you climb higher, whisper carefully spun words into open ears at your whim.
“I just know George would rip that dress off me the moment I got home. He might not even be able to wait, and just pull me into a closet here instead.”
Another eruption of giggles.
“Well, I’m flattered, my darlings.” You smiled. “This is one of my favorites. Coriolanus treats me well.”
“I’m sure he does,” a suggestive glance from Lilian, “in all the ways one would expect, I assume?”
You gasped in mock modesty.
“Lilian,” you drawled, “I certainly hope you’re not suggesting I disclose our-”
“Oh, just tell us dear, please. We’re all dying to know. You’re always so coy about it. What’s he like?”
You pulled your lips into a knowing smile, your perfectly painted face helping you slide into this facade. You scanned your eyes across the ballroom, across to Snow. He stood talking to a group of men, colleagues of his. You recognised their faces.
It had been four days since the luncheon. Four days since your outburst. Four days of hiding away. You’d been dreading tonight’s gala, but it gave you an excuse to dress nicely, and as soon as you’d arrived, you and Coriolanus has gone your separate ways.
“Well,” you hummed, masking your uncertainty as anticipation, “he can be a slight tease.”
A few dramatic gasps sounded through the group, and you turned back to face them, their eyes wide and expectant.
“Salacious. Do tell.” Another voice piped up with a giggle.
“He can be fun to toy with. I do enjoy pushing back, but sometimes he takes it… a little far.” You said carefully.
“My, who would have known? But you get what you want, my dear, surely.” Lilian asked.
You smiled, glancing back at him, suit pristine with a white rose in his breast pocket. You hated how good he looked. He was smiling politely at the group of men around him, but you could tell from the tick in his jaw that something was bothering him.
“Sometimes, I do. Others, I wait for my chance to push his buttons right back.”
“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? I don’t suppose,” she pressed, “that you’re in one of those… entanglements at the moment?”
“Lilian, darling, you know I don’t kiss and tell.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Another giggle sounded from the group.
“Oh, my.” Lilian repeated, glancing between the two of you. “I do hope you’ve been making him suffer.”
“Well, I’m playing a longer game this time, so I’m afraid there hasn’t been as much fun lately.”
Lilian sucked in a breath, like the perfect idea had just dawned on her.
“Well, I see no moment like the present. You’re here, you’re dressed marvellously, I propose you walk right over there and show him just what he’s missing.”
A chorus of yes and do it and we’ll cheer you ons rang out. Loosened by the champagne, you looked across the room at him again. You could do it. He wouldn’t be able to react, it would be the most perfect torture. You suddenly decided that you were done making small moves, done playing it safe like this was some schoolgirl crush. It was time to step up to the mark again. Take your power back.
Your group could sense the newfound determination in you. You smiled, slow and cunning.
Show him what he’s missing.
Simple. It’s what you did best.
“Watch and learn, ladies.”
A hush fell over the group as they watched you run a hand through your hair, handed your glass to one of them, and pressed your lips together. Before you’d left the house you’d added a swipe of red lipstick, dark red, almost bloodlike. It always made you feel more confident and tonight, you needed the pick me up.
The middle of the ballroom was practically empty; the dancing was over, and everyone had long since gathered in groups to the sides. So you turned heads when you stepped out, the only one on the floor, black satin hugging your frame like a second skin. You didn’t look at them, you made a steady beeline to Snow. You felt more and more eyes on you as you crossed the room, heels clicking on the floor. They all watched, waiting for… something. Coriolanus didn’t look up until you were a mere few steps away, now deep in some conversation he was going to forget very shortly.
Blue eyes flashed to yours with a confused apprehension, but you didn’t give yourself time to think about the twitch of his brow, or the looks on the faces of his colleagues. You didn’t think about the way he opened his mouth as if to say something, only for it to be swallowed away.
You didn’t think about any of that.
Because your lips were on his.
Hot and hungry, teeth clashing, your hand grabbing the back of his neck as he leaned in, surprised at first, then warm, wanting. Lips tugging at yours like he was starving.
It was sinful.
You’d never been kissed like this before. Your fuzzy brain wondered how you’d gone through life not knowing what this felt like, the press of his lips devouring yours, heated and messy.
He kissed you like breathing, like you were his oxygen supply. His hand slid to your waist and pulled you in, and you heard the echoes of chuckling coming from around you, morphing into a few light claps.
Then, just as you felt him fully melt into you, your hand slipped higher to the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of perfect platinum curls, and tugged.
It was nothing but an affectionate display to the people surrounding you, but a brazen reminder between the two of you. It was your way of showing you hadn’t forgotten, that you wouldn’t be made to feel ashamed, to cower in a corner while he got the better of you.
Not in this lifetime.
The second it happened, his breath hitched, and his hand tensed on your waist. You were the only one who caught it, getting high off the satisfaction, finally pulling away.
You weren’t sure you’d ever seen a prettier sight; his blown-out eyes, his face stained with scarlet.
How’s that for tasting your own medicine.
Watching him attempt to collect himself was sweeter still. Watching him reset his face into one of distant amusement. He let out a small laugh, glanced at the rest of the party.
“Everything alright, doll? Had a little much champagne, perhaps?”
His colleagues chuckled, but you didn’t look their way. You stood your ground. Offered a sweet smile, but he could see your slyness.
“Oh, I’m swell. And I think I’ve had just enough, actually. I’m gonna go freshen up.”
You turned on your heel and made your way through winding halls to the bathroom, riding an adrenaline high. You picked up a glass from a server’s tray along the way – the champagne had dried out, all they were serving now was posca, which while disgusting, worked a treat to take the edge off. It wasn’t long before the door swung open and you saw Coriolanus appear behind you in the mirror.
“This is the ladies’ room, handsome.” You looked away, continuing to reapply your lipstick.
He stepped closer.
“What was that kiss about, sweetheart?” Straight to the point.
“Nothing.” You shrugged.
“Didn’t feel like nothing.”
“That’s called acting, Snow.” You rolled your eyes, vaguely aware that your words sounded a little jumbled. You put the tube of lipstick away. “We had an audience. A rather expectant one at that.”
He folded his arms.
“I don’t like it when you catch me off guard like that. Not with people around.”
“Seemed to like it plenty to me.” You mumbled.
He didn’t answer, pacing past you to the other sink, grabbing a towel and wiping it against his face, where the red had stained his skin. It only served to spread it around further, and if you weren’t already smugly entertained by the marks you’d left on him, now it was just plain funny.
He glared at you when you laughed.
“Don’t give me that look. Here,” you offered, stepping across to him, taking the towel and wetting it, “let me.”
You wiped at a patch, but he snatched the towel back and took over.
“No, you’re rubbing it too hard. It’s-” he glowered at you – “fine. Do it your way.”
You went back to lean against your sink and took another sip of posca, admiring the ornate decorations in the room. A little excessive, a little new money for your tastes.
There was a rap on the door.
“President Snow?”
“Just a minute.” He said coolly.
“You’re in a mood tonight.” You remarked, and he huffed.
“Running a country can get exhausting. Don’t expect you to understand.”
“Right.” You said flatly. “Because I’m just a brainless pawn like everybody else.”
He looked over at you, at the drink in your hand.
“How many of those have you had?”
You shrugged again, and he tossed the towel into the sink, walking over to you.
“Answer me.” His voice was stern, and for a second, you soaked it in, drenched in the danger as he approached, closing in. Your tongue slipped out to wet your lips, and your eyes followed his as he moved to stand in front of you.
“Shame you don’t have someone to let all that frustration out on, isn’t it? Sounds like that could be helpful.”
His eyes pierced yours.
“Doll-”
“I’m just saying, it’s a pity you don’t.” You moved to bring the glass to your lips, anticipating the burn in your throat, but he gently stopped your hand.
“Okay, that’s enough.”
“Posca? It’s my first glass.” You smiled, eyes batting.
“You know what I mean. I think you should stop.”
You looked at the glass, then back at him, and pried your hand away, slowly and pointedly taking another sip.
“Sweetheart.” He warned.
“What, are you punish me? Gonna make me beg for you then kick me out again? Already did that once.”
He gave an incredulous half-laugh.
“That’s what this is about? You’re not really going to be mad about that forever, are you?”
“That depends. How long is forever?”
The door knocked again, and he worked the glass out of your hand.
“Drink some water. Sober up. We’ll talk about this when we get home.”
You sighed, heading for the door, but glanced back at him, his face still a stained mess. You brushed a finger against your own cheek to mirror his.
“You missed a spot.”
You sat in silence in his office, feeling a little like a schoolchild caught misbehaving. His typing was the only sound in the room. The seat was low; almost as if it was there to point out his authority over anyone who sat in it. Knowing him, it probably was.
He’d managed to clean off the rest of your lipstick, but his face looked rubbed raw, uncomfortable. A tall glass of water sat on the desk in front of you.
“Thought you said we’d talk.”
“Not until you finish that glass. I’m not talking to you inebriated.”
“Seriously?”
He shot you a look from behind his typewriter.
“Fine. Whatever.” You reached for it and took a few sips. He looked back down again. A few folders cluttered the desk, and in your boredom, your eyes scanned them. They looked complicated; legal.
“What are you writing there anyway? Or am I too dumb to understand?”
He offered another unimpressed glance.
“It’s a new bill I’m trying to pass. Except apparently, I’m the only one around here with their head screwed on enough to work on it.”
You waited as Snow pushed the typewriter’s lever, carriage sliding the page as he began writing the next line. You sipped your water.
He sighed. “One day I won’t have to mingle with these idiots anymore. They’ll just listen to me, and obey.”
You took that in.
“Do you feel that way about me?”
He studied you for a second, and stopped typing.
“No. Not really.”
“But you wish I’d be more… compliant.” You stared at the floor.
“Not necessarily.”
“You sure? Didn’t seem to like it the other night.”
His eyes narrowed. Knowing this conversation was a game of chess like any other. But lately the stakes were higher than ever.
“Never said I didn’t like it. Just that you were out of line.”
“And where is that fucking line?” You snapped. “I’m serious, Snow, because we’ve never talked about it.”
“You want to talk, all of a sudden? Okay, sweetheart. Fire away.”
You put the glass down on the table, heavier than intended.
“I just don’t understand you, Coriolanus. I mean, first you don’t want me, then you do want me, then you don’t again. And now what? I don’t know what I’m supposed to think when you don’t give me anything to go off.”
He watched you carefully, and you wanted to shake him, to scream, anything that would give you answers. You stood, unable to sit still, and started pacing.
“You know what’s worse? I don’t even know if you want me here anymore. I don’t know how to act around you because I never know what you’re thinking. At first I thought all this, the whole push and pull, was just some control thing. But-” you laughed, airy and insane, “you know what I realised? You’ve had me fooled, Snow. All this time I thought we were equals, but now I think I finally realise.”
He frowned, waiting for you to continue.
“You pay for my company, if you think about it. We trade services, don’t we? You get something from me, I get something back. I live in your house, eat your food, wear nice clothes. At the end of the day, that’s just it, isn’t it?”
“What?”
You shrugged, tears filling your eyes as bitterness took over, so strong you could almost taste it.
“I’m no better than a whore myself.”
You’d never heard a louder silence. If that hadn’t just taken everything out of you, you’d have begged him to say something. Instead, you just stared, eyes blurry with tears, as he seconds seemed to stretch into minutes, and you gave up trying to read his mind, because his expression was indecipherable.
After what felt like hours, he took a long breath.
“Sit down.”
You glanced at the floor, then took a step towards your chair. He stopped you.
“Not there. Here.” He nodded at the desk in front of him, and you swallowed thickly, stepping around the desk, getting awfully close to him, and pulling yourself onto the desk, legs pressed together. He stood, looking down at you.
“That’s really what you think of yourself?” He asked, voice steady and controlled.
You kept your eyes averted.
“Am I wrong?”
He lifted a hand and brushed his fingertips against your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. And when you looked at his eyes, you knew exactly what he was feeling. He wasn’t hurt, or upset.
He was mad.
“Tell me something. What do you think I’d do if I heard someone talking about you that way?
“I don’t-”
“I’d have them executed. And you expect me to stand by and let you talk about yourself like that?”
You felt a tear spill down your cheek.
“I don’t know, Coriolanus, you tell me. Am I disposable to you?”
“Of course not."
“But you’d replace me if I left.”
“What makes you think I’d let you leave in the first place?”
A chill caressed your spine.
“That’s right. I’m keeping you here, doll. If I made you doubt that, I apologise. But you’re no whore. Though sometimes, I…” He trailed off.
“What?”
His eyes were on your lips again, hungry. You wondered how someone could switch from distant to depraved and wanting this quickly.
“Sometimes I wish you were. Because it’d make it a lot easier for me to take what I want. If you were, then I’d have no hesitation in ripping your clothes off right here. Fucking you on my desk, or up against the wall, not caring if you cum. Not caring if you enjoy it. If you were a whore, I’d have fucked you in every room in this house, twice over. I wouldn’t let you sleep.”
His hand was on your thigh, the now-creased fabric of your dress crumpling as it slid up. You weren’t sure when your eyes had fallen shut, your hot breath mixing with his as his thumb rubbed against your skin.
Your voice was pathetically quiet.
“Then why don’t you?”
He sighed, tone shifting into something tense, something you could cut through with a knife.
“Because you’re fucking impossible, you know that? I can barely think when you’re around. I don’t know where the games begin or end. I don’t… I don’t understand this power you have over me. I thought you knew, you must know that you’re under my skin. I don’t know if you’ll ever stop playing with me. It drives me fucking insane.”
You opened your eyes, hand gripping his wrist and pulling it from your thigh. You slid off the desk and took a step away from him.
“You think I’m playing with you? The only time you pay an ounce of attention to me is when you’re trying to fuck with my head, Snow. I said my piece, you heard me and you still didn’t care. So please, for both our sakes, stop torturing me. Just… come find me when you decide you want me again, okay? Let’s leave it at that.”
You made for the door, which you slammed with such an impressive force that it even took you aback.
You replayed his words in your head that night until you fell into a deep sleep, and when you woke, you felt like your dreams made more sense than he did.
“Tigris!” you exclaimed, catapulting into the blonde’s arms. The people who stood scattered around you in the manor’s large ballroom spun their heads around at your display. A few even dodged to the side as the momentum that you’d built running down the stairs nearly knocked her over.
A few days of silent glances and fewer exchanged words had passed. And now, you were just happy to be hosting in the comfort of your own home, and to finally see Tigris again. You wondered if she noticed how you hugged her, if she wondered - like you did - if you’d ever let go.
“I’m so happy you’re here. How’s your Grandma’am?”
“She’s quite well, she’s sorry she couldn’t make it. You look beautiful as ever. It’s been too long!”
“I know! I don’t think I’ve seen you since your birthday, which makes me the worst friend ever.” You groaned, scrunching up your face in shame.
“It’s okay! I know busy Coriolanus keeps you with all these functions. You must be going out of your mind by now. How are you holding up?”
The two of you walked to the edge of the room, where prying eyes had settled down after your greeting.
You looked at Snow, stood across the ballroom, dressed in a pristine suit with a champagne glass in hand, talking to yet another group of men who worked for him – ministers and such, a little higher ranking than the group from the other night – and spared you the occasional glance. As if he was keeping tabs on you. It wasn’t long before Tigris caught on and politely inquired.
“I don’t understand him, Tigris. I think he hates me.” You sighed.
“What? No, he could never. He has a soft spot for you, really, and I have it on good authority.”
“I’m not so sure anymore. I think I’ve pushed it a little far this time. I think… maybe we both did. I’m in uncharted waters, here.”
“Look, I know I don’t know all the ins and outs of how this thing between you works, but I don’t think he could ever hate you for doing anything. Coryo – I mean, Coriolanus, he does care, contrary to popular belief. It’s just that his way of showing it can get a little…”
“Fucked?” You offered, and she laughed.
“Yes, exactly. Now, I’m not going to lie to you and say that he’s an angel on earth, he’s had to do things to get to where he is now. Things that even I don’t know the extent of, and they’ve… changed him.”
You rarely got the chance to speak with Tigris alone these days, with Snow usually playing chaperone, or keeping one or the both of you busy, but it had always been easy to slide right back into conversation with her like you’d never been apart.
You’d first met Tigris at a Plinth gala years ago, on the same day you’d met Snow. The two of you had talked and laughed and she had an easiness around her, she wasn’t shallow and judgemental like a lot of the girls you’d grown up with, though you never knew why until many months later. Snow had placed a large wall between his life before the Plinth endorsement, and after. Few people knew the conditions he’d grown up in, but after countless hours with Tigris, you’d begun to assemble small pieces. Despite your closeness with her, you knew from her warnings that Snow had a sort of temper when it came to this topic, so you approached it with caution.
“Changed him how?” You inquired, finally.
“Well… It wasn’t always fancy balls and lunches with him. It never was, with any of us, as you know, but especially for him. He’s… had a different experience. Grandma’am and I, we’ve known hard times, but we haven’t seen what he’s seen. Not even close.”
“What kind of things?”
She glanced over her shoulder, making sure nobody was hovering.
“He’d kill me for telling you.”
“You know I won’t say a word. But you don’t have to tell me, if it’s too much to ask.”
She took in a breath, and sipped her drink, voice dropping to a whisper.
“This stays between us, okay? Coriolanus has… been out there. In the districts, I mean. Before all this. And I can’t go into detail, he’d have my head if I…”
You swallowed.
“The districts? But… why? I don’t-”
“Tigris, lovely to see you, it’s been so long.” A male voice interrupted, and you quickly excused yourself, slipping away to let the two of them talk.
After mulling it over in your head and making small talk with a few more guests, you snuck out of a side door and into the hallways, winding upstairs until you were finally met with Snow’s bedroom door. The sound of voices and music a mere echo below you, you pushed tentatively, and stepped inside. It was strange, being in there alone, for the first time since he’d turned you away. But you paced the floor, looking for something, anything, that would answer the questions you had. Why the districts? Why couldn’t Tigris tell you what had happened there?
Glancing back at the door, you began thumbing through his closet, peeking inside drawers. You’d already given his room a once over, but you worked more meticulously this time, every corner you unsuccessfully turned over only fuelling your curiosity. You walked around the room again, getting frustrated.
You headed back to the door, scanning the place, and retraced your steps a third time. Knocking a little on cupboards and anything that appeared the slightest bit odd or out of place. It was a perpetually tidy room, neat as ever, save for the desk which contained folders you were sure weren’t for your eyes, but that didn’t stop you. You kept on, trying your best not to leave any stone unturned, and most importantly, trying not to move anything out of place.
Eventually, you moved to the smaller desk drawers again, rifling through them haphazardly, annoyed by the lack of evidence you were finding. One of the two drawers had very little inside it, just a pencil and a pocket dictionary, and as you pushed your hand further inside to feel for anything else, you noticed it felt smaller than the first. Shallower. When you knocked, it was hollow.
It had a false bottom.
Your father used to keep his cigars beneath one of these when you were growing up, so you knew what to look for. You felt around the edge until you touched a small, metal handle, then emptied the drawer, hooked your fingers into the handle and pulled. You frowned at first, there was less in the hidden compartment than there was above it. But you peered inside, and there lay two items: an old photograph, and a silver dog tag.
Suddenly, it all made sense. His efficiency, his drive, his orderliness.
Military. The districts. The dog tag.
You unfolded the photograph, caked in a layer of dust, and it hit you like a ton of rocks.
Coriolanus was a peacekeeper.
But why? When? And why keep it a secret?
In the photograph, his hair was buzzed, and he was in a uniform you recognised immediately; if only because of the annual reaping ceremony shown in every building in the Capitol. He was standing next to a boy with dark hair, also buzzed. You recognised him as Sejanus Plinth, you’d never met the kid but you’d been to his funeral with your family, and had seen enough pictures to know.
You knew that the Plinth family had backed Coriolanus’ education, that he became their new heir, a protégé of sorts, but not that he’d been friends with their son. Not that they’d been this close, at least. They weren’t smiling in the photo, stood pin straight and alert in what looked like barracks.
You folded the photograph and placed it back where you found it. Your hands lingered on the dog tag, though, despite the logical side of your brain screaming at you to put it back, leave the room and pretend you didn’t see this. But the louder part egged you on as you pulled it out of the drawer, examining the engraved words, running your hands over the name SNOW and, further down, DISTRICT 12.
You’d heard bedtime stories from your mother while growing up, about the war, the Hunger Games and why they existed, and why it was never safe to set foot in the districts, not even the richer ones.
They’re beneath us, she’d said. They’re dangerous. Barbaric. And 12 was notoriously the poorest, most dangerous of them all.
Coriolanus had now become more of an enigma to you than ever before, and a thousand new questions flooded your head.
You closed the drawer halfway, holding the chain, pulling out a chair in front of the mirror to sit down. You turned the tag over in your hands, as if it would start giving you the answers, if only you looked hard enough.
Why was he sent to 12? Why couldn’t he talk about it?
Despite the conditions Snow grew up in, there was respect behind his family name. It didn’t make sense why someone of his social standing and education would leave to be a peacekeeper, of all things, and in 12, of all places. A strange sort of pity filled you, wondering what he could’ve seen out there. What he could’ve done. It all drew you in as you got lost in a world of what ifs.
Despite yourself, you pushed your hair from your neck, and as if in a trance, wrapped the chain around it. It fell heavy and cold against your skin, sending a chill through your bones. You were so busy staring down at it, so lost in thought that you barely noticed the sound of the door pushing open. Or the floorboards lightly creaking. Or his reflection in the mirror. You didn’t notice any of that, until the door swung shut with a bang.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Coriolanus had had a long day, most of which he’d spent simmering over work and you. He’d kept his eye on you that evening; on the way you’d thrown yourself into Tigris’ arms, and talked, transfixed, and he hated not knowing what was being said. A strange feeling set in as he saw the two of you get deeper into conversation from the other side of the large room, a deep-seated uneasiness stirring him up as he drowned out the tales of his associates’ incompetence. It felt like a breath of relief when he sent someone your way to interrupt whatever talk you were having, pretending that Tigris had been looking for him earlier. He focused on your brief tour of the room when the distraction worked, eyes flitting around like you were preoccupied.
When he saw you dart away from the ballroom and up one of the stairwells, he followed you as soon as he got the chance.
He’d wondered if you might act up today, but this wasn’t what he was expecting. When he saw you, the all too familiar glint of silver around your pretty neck, something shifted in him. Something he’d done a very, very good job of keeping at bay during his first few years of presidency.
Rage.
Your eyes met his in the mirror.
“Coriolanus, I-”
His hands were on you before you could finish your sentence, hauling you out of the chair, fingers wrapped in a death grip around your arms, squeezing as he pushed you to the wall with a satisfying thud.
“What, you can explain? I highly doubt that.”
“I’m sorry, I just-” You gasped as he squeezed tighter, gripping your wrists.
“Do you even know what this means?” He seethed, dog tag pressed between his fingers, chain pulling at your neck.
The forest. The birds. The gunshots that deafened him for weeks.
“I didn’t know… I’m sorry. I never knew you were a peacekeeper, Coryo, I-” He flinched, saw the way you winced the second it passed your lips.
Snow may have been cold, but his eyes were fire. And you were only stoking it.
“So I’m Coryo now? Who the fuck told you call me that? Was it Tigris? I saw you talking to her, don’t lie to me.”
“No.” You shook your head. “She didn’t tell me anything, I promise. Please. It was just me.”
He moved in closer, eclipsing you altogether, grip on the chain so tight he was certain you’d be able to feel it pinching the back of your neck, digging a mark into your flesh. He let the sadistic part of his brain take delight in it, in the way your eyes widened, face pleading.
Whatever this game was between you, you’d gone too far this time.
“How did you find this?” He snapped.
You were crowded against the wall, unable to move. Tears started to brim, and you didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure you could. You just shook your head over and over, repeating I’m sorry like a broken record.
“Take this off. Now. Take it off.” He ordered, dropping it back to your chest, stepping away a little so you could lift your shaking arms over your head, removing the chain. He snatched it from you, gripping it in his palm, looking down at it, and you breathed out in relief.
“I didn’t mean to… I was just looking. I had so many questions. I didn’t know what I’d find.”
“And? Are you fucking satisfied now?” His voice chilled you to the bone as he looked up at you again.
You shook your head. Apologised again. Wished you could apologise in any way that would matter, but it was too late. You’d never been more afraid in your life, anticipating what might happen, remembering echoes of rumors you’d heard, of Snow poisoning his enemies, of sending them to hang. Some you knew to be true, but others you boiled down to rebel gossip.
Now, you weren’t so sure. These were the eyes of a man who’d dropped his mask, and it was like staring into a dark void. You could get lost in it, and never find your way back.
“Please. Don’t… I won’t tell anyone, I promise. You can trust me.”
He scoffed.
Stupid girl. Hadn’t you learned by now, that trust meant nothing?
“Like I trusted you in here? I don’t think so. Can’t believe you had me feeling sorry for you. Probably just made it up so you could lower my guard then turn around and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“I didn’t, Coriolanus, I swear.” You pleaded. You were crying, tears slipping down your cheeks.
“I’ve been very patient with you, little girl. But this is where I draw the line. You have no idea how far you’ve pushed me. And you don’t even realise it, you’re so caught up in your little crush. Do you know how easy I’ve been going on you? The things I’ve let you get away with… I’ve killed people for much less.”
“You’ve…” You trailed off, barely hearing your own words, barely processing a thing. He laughed, low and dark.
“Does that scare you, sweetheart? Does it make you afraid?”
Eyes frozen open, you just stared. You felt your jaw go slack.
“Good.”
Coriolanus toed an invisible line, one that had never been crossed before. You wanted him to show you he wanted you? Fine.
He looked down at the chain wrapped around his fist, but he didn’t pocket it, or place it to the side. He unwound it, and slowly pulled it over his own neck.
Your eyes dropped to where it sat in stark contrast, heavy and shining, garish against his fancy dress shirt. You felt your blood run cold.
“Get on your knees.” You heard him say. Your eyes darted back up.
“What?”
When he spoke, it sounded like someone else was talking. Someone you didn’t know at all.
“You heard me. Get on your fucking knees. Right now.”
What could you do? This was what you’d wanted. Just… not like this. Not when your hands were shaking in fear, and you had no idea what this Coriolanus was capable of.
Your head said yes; your heart wept. But you were far past listening to your sorry heart.
So, you obeyed. Legs all but giving in as you lowered yourself to the ground, knees meeting cold hardwood as the chill cut through your dress.
His fingers slipped under one of the straps.
“Take this off, baby.” He murmured, distant, like he wasn’t all there. Your head hung in shame, eyes on his feet as you pushed the straps from your shoulder, top half of the dress falling down. You heard his zipper slide down, and you shivered. No longer sure if it was in fear or anticipation.
“Head up. Look at me. Good,” he said, when you obliged, “now let’s see what this pretty mouth’s really good for, shall we?”
More tears welled up as his hand brushed your jaw, hooking a thumb to your bottom lip, pushing your mouth open. You couldn’t help the way your tongue grazed over it, tasting salt, whining when you realised it was the taste of your own tears. When your eyes fell open again, you finally caught a look at him, hard and tip weeping, and your brain filled with nothing but want, eclipsing your fear for a mere second, enough to bring Coriolanus to the ground again. He may have done terrible, unspeakable things, but he was still a man. A man who wanted you.
And why did that make your heart beat out of your chest? It thrummed like a hummingbird as you took in the sight of him, unbuttoning his shirt as he waited for you to move.
You’d seen how big he was from a distance. You’d felt him between layers of fabric, and you’d imagined this a million times over. But now, as he stood waiting in front of you, you hesitated, because it all finally felt real. Your mouth watered despite yourself, seeing the mess he’d already made, any more and he’d start dripping -
“Go on, sweetheart. It’s not gonna suck itself.”
Your eyes squeezed shut as you let him past your lips. The heady taste of precum filled your mouth as you ran your tongue along the shaft slowly, trying to start steady. He wasn’t having it. His hand twisted through your hair, pulling you in closer, making you gag a little. You instinctively lifted a hand up to his thigh to brace yourself, and he laughed.
“Giving up so soon? Thought you’d try harder than that.”
He pushed further, and the indignant sound you made as you adjusted only served to spur him on.
You tried to focus on breathing through it, but he slipped in and out your mouth unevenly, and faster than you could think, catching you off guard. He looked down at the way your mouth struggled to take his length as if you were a piece of art, like he was mesmerised by it, and that feeling was encouragement was enough to keep you going. His hand twisted harder in your hair, making a fist, and he swore when you hummed in discomfort.
“Look at you.” He said, strung-out and shaky. “You strut right in here from your silver spoon life, and think you can call the shots? You’ve bitten off more than you can chew, sweetheart. You have no fucking idea what the world is really like. What people are like. What they have to do to survive.”
He moved faster, and you let your jaw go slack. You were barely moving now, he was starting to fuck your throat like he owned it. You’d started to cry again, and when you looked up at him, it was a blur. The furthest you could see was his chest, shirt unbuttoned and falling to the sides, and the dog tag, silver catching in the low light, swinging against his chest as he moved. You closed your eyes again, trying to go somewhere else in your head. Trying to breathe through your nose, to focus on being used, on how good you were making him feel, on finally being his. It was all you had left to hold on to.
But he was unwinding you with his words, knowing just where to press to make it sting, to make the tears fall harder.
“You don’t have any fucking shame about it either. Touching yourself on my bed and wearing my clothes, like you’re – fuck, that’s it - like we’re married or something. Like you’re worth more than everyone else. But look at you. Maybe you were right after all. Maybe you are my whore.” he gritted out.
Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried desperately to catch your breath between sobs.
“I mean, you sure look like it now, on your knees for me, making a mess of your pretty face. So fucking good. You’re sucking me off better than she did, and you’re barely even trying.”
You hated it. Hated the way his thumb brushed painfully gently against your cheek, dusting away a tear as his cock bruised the back of your throat and you tried not to gag around him. Hated the way his words twisted around in your head, and how fucked up it was that your broken brain took it as praise instead of punishment.
Most of all, you hated the throb between your shaking legs, panties soaked through and probably ruined. Humiliation seeped through you as you imagined it dripping down your legs and onto the floor. Your salty tears spilled down your face, mixing with your spit and his precum. Hating every second, until your head went blank, and you didn’t feel much of anything anymore.
You weren’t sure exactly how it happened.
One second, he was pulling your hair, twitching in your mouth and spilling down your throat, and the next, in what felt like a flash, you were on the floor, loud, wrecked sobs spilling out of you as you held your knees to your chest, face hidden. He was on the floor too - when did he get down? - and his voice was soft, oh so soft and gentle, saying something you couldn’t quite make out, dull and repetitive past your ringing ears.
“- so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I know I - I didn’t… I took it too far. Can you hear me, sweetheart? Look at me. Please, look at me. I’m right here.”
You pulled your head from your hands, and through blurred eyes, you looked at him.
This wasn’t a face you’d seen on him before. His brows knitted, lips apart as he stared at you, like you were some wounded animal he wanted to save.
“Talk to me, sweetheart. Please.”
“I can’t…” You trailed off.
“You can tell me.”
Another wave of choked back sobs took over you. He held your jaw up like you were something breakable. Like maybe you’d broken already, and he was holding you together.
“I can’t do this.” You whispered. “Not like-”
He nodded, brushing a tear from your cheek.
“Okay. It’s okay, baby. Tell me what I can do for you. Just say the word.”
You caught your breath, and he flinched a little as you collapsed into his arms. The cool metal of the dog tag pressed into your cheek.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You cried.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t realise how far I’d pushed you until… I know I can’t make it up to you, but I’ll try. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. If you want to leave, I understand. I’ll make the arrangements.”
“What? No, that’s not…”
He cut you off, looking into your eyes.
“Decide tomorrow, okay doll? You don’t have to think about that now.”
“I didn’t know about… about the districts.” You hiccupped. “About you. You didn’t want me to know. I ruined everything, I-”
“Listen to me. It doesn’t matter anymore, I promise you. It’s okay, baby.”
You nodded into his chest.
“Here.” He leaned away from you, and you looked up in a question. He took the chain from his neck and placed it in your palm.
“You can have it. So long as nobody sees. You can throw it away, wear it around the house, whatever you want. It’s yours.”
You pressed it between your fingers. It cooled your hot skin like a salve.
“Thank you.” You whispered. Your head sank back onto his chest, and when you spoke again, it was barely audible.
“Coryo?”
He tensed for a second, but relaxed again just as quickly.
“Yeah?”
“Can I stay with you tonight?”
His hand brushed gently against your hair, and you relaxed into it.
“Of course you can.”
a/n: baby's first dubcon scene!! (screams cries and throws up bc navigating that was scary as fuck) p.s one more chapter left!! do we think they'll get their shit together?? who knows!! (i know)
taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii @tqmqkii @not-avery @natsgf @sleepysongbirdsings @hopebaker @darknight3904 @pemberlystateofmind @bxtchopolis @real-lana-del-rey @24kmar @louweasleymalfoy @m1ndbrand @coconut-dreamz @cosmicgyral @urfavevirgoo @mk15x @theamuz @ashy-kit @violante777 @snowlandstop @badbleep88
(more tags in the reblogs/comments)
if you’d like to be tagged, pls comment on the series masterlist (helps me keep track of everyone!!) 💌
1K notes
·
View notes
Good girl gone bad II Ingrid Engen x Mapi León x Reader
masterlist I word count: 1886
a/n: hi, it's based off this request here, enjoy.
warnings: minors dni, 18+, smut at the end, toxic behaviour from OC, jealousy, please don't take this too seriously !
“Ingrid, you played fantastic!”, Mapi waved enthusiastically her little flag, before she jumped into the open arm of hers and your Norwegian girlfriend.
“Oh, thanks.”, the tall woman’s face lit up at the Spanish defender’s compliment.
“Seriously, you filled out the defensive role so perfectly, I couldn’t have done a better job.”, the smaller player couldn’t stop gushing about her lover’s great performance.
“Just wait until you can play again.”, Ingrid muttered cheerfully.
“Not that long anymore.”, Mapi answered giddily.
“I’ll miss you and your little flag though.”, the younger footballer admitted.
“To be honest, I’ll miss that too.”, she agreed wistfully.
“ I know but there’s no better feeling than playing.”, Ingrid mumbled, her teammates still running around with the CL trophy in her hand, taking pictures in between the celebratory moves.
The defender who has followed her girlfriends gaze added grinning:”Playing and winning.”
“Exactly.”
From the sidelines you’ve followed their conversation, you were hurt about the fact that you weren’t a part of it as it usually was you three together and not as a pair like in this particular moment.
With every fibre of your being, you felt like the other woman who wasn’t in this relationship even though you were up until now. The loneliness crept under your skin; jealousy clung to your heart and wouldn’t let you go until Alexia started talking to you.
“Don’t let your head down, beautiful. After all we won.”, she reminded you, while pulling you into a encouraging hug.
“Um, what?”, you gave the midfielder a quizzing look, her words haven’t reached you as you’ve been too busy to listen to your girlfriends’ sweet nothings which didn’t include you in them.
“I can tell you’re disappointed.”, Alexia stated earnestly.
“I didn’t play much tonight, so it’s not really my win, Ale.”, you told her miserably. You hated that tone in your voice. Where was your confident self?
“We’re all in this situation at one point. Someone is always on the bench. But we always win as a team.”, the blonde tried to cheer you up.
“Right.”, you said even though you turned away when you saw your girlfriends were kissing ignoring everything around them as if they were in a movie in which they played the leading roles, while the rest of you were the supporting actresses to help the lovers get to their happy ending.
“Oh, hey, babe. We’re going to the party later. You’re coming too, right?”, Ingrid asked you later in the changing room, finally realizing you were still there after all.
“Yes, of course.“, you nodded.
Ingrids gaze went back to Mapi as she smiled: “Great, I’ll go shower.“
“Me too.“, you said, walking past both of your girlfriends into the showers that were adjacent to the dressing room.
You had hoped that the steaming hot water would clear your mind but the calmness that usually came with a warm shower never set in.
Instead, the pictures of what happened after the game kept repeating in your head. You were never the jealous type, you could not be jealous in a relationship like yours. But you also knew that you deserved better than to be ignored by your girlfriends, so you came up with a plan.
For the party, you decided to slip into a a pair of suit pants and a button-down vest with nothing underneath, drawing attention to your arms and chest with your outfit choice. You curled the ends of your hair and put on some make-up. You looked at yourself in the mirror, satisfied with your looks.
“Are you two ready to go?“, Mapi asked impatiently, looking effortlessly cool as usual.
Ingrid appeared next to her, wearing a tight dress and radiating ethereal beauty: “Yes, we’re ready, love.“
Mapi nodded towards the door: “Let’s go then, babe.“
You reluctantly followed them, already disappointed that none of them had commented on your outfit. You were not exactly pouting on your way to the party but you also refused to talk much.
Arriving at the location, your two girlfriends retreated to a table in the corner with their drinks. They were lost in each others eyes. You were sure they noticed nothing of what happened around them.
As you were nursing your drink at the bar, Alexia appeared on your side: “What are you thinking about?“
“Me?“ You looked at her in surprise.
“Yes.“
You first inclination was to tell her that you felt like your girlfriends did not need you in their lives but instead, you swallowed down the thought and forced yourself to smile: “They’re playing Rosalia. Want to dance, Ale?“
The captain looked at your for a second before giving in: “Only because you look so unhappy.“
“Dancing always helps with that…“, you promised.
“Come on then.“ Alexia reached out her hand and pulled you towards the dance floor.
You immediately fell into an easy rhythm with her. You deliberately pushed close to her during your dance and she let you.
On the other side of the room, Ingrid tapped Mapis arm frantically: “Mapi!“
“Yes?“, the defender could barely tear her eyes from her Norwegian girlfriend.
“Look!“
Only then did she look over in your direction, her eyebrows knitting together: “Y/n is dancing with Ale?“
“Looks like it…“, Ingrid whispered.
“That’s not her usual good girl behaviour.”, the Mapi observed through gritted teeth. Sawing you dance with one of her best friends in the way you did, so intimately and sexy was driving the older woman insane.
“No, it’s not.”, the Norwegian player nodded, she wasn’t able to take her eyes from you and your team’s captain.
“We’ll see and give her a little time to redeem herself otherwise if she keeps behaving naughty like that over the night we’ll take actions.”, the older woman thought out loud.
“Take actions`”, Ingrid looked startled at the smaller footballer.
“Y/n is needy and bratty in front of everyone, so we’ll punish her at home.”, she explained seriously.
“Punish her?”, shock was written all over the younger woman’s pretty face.
“Yes.”
Meanwhile, Ona tipped your shoulder making you turn around to her to look into her eyes, which glanced concerned back at you:” Can I take over?”
“Sure.”, you agreed enthusiastically to her offer, feeling the alcohol more than you wanted to admit. After a dance with you Alexia had returned to her girlfriend to engage into a passionate conversation which involved mostly kisses.
“You’re in a party mood. How many drinks did you have?”, the defender asked you, damn her, she really did notice everything.
“Uhm maybe two.”, you replied, your cheeks immediately turning red.
“Two?”, Ona raised an eyebrow at you. Her voice was full of scepticism.
“Don’t worry about it, Oni.”, you answered with a charming smile on your lips.
“I don’t.”, she quickly reassured you.
“Good.” But you realized your teammate’s her hands were still on your upper arms contradicting what she just said.
“Something’s up with you.”, Ona stated firmly.
“Let’s just dance, please.”, you shook your head heavily.
With a sigh the defender said:” Alright.”
“Thank you.”, you mumbled relieved, that the questioning was over for now. Sweet, innocent Ona was the last person you wanted to trouble with your worries.
“You’re welcome.”
The mix of alcohol and changing teammates made you forget that time was passing by. You were confused when you found the home you shared with your girlfriends was already dark without any lights on.
Nonetheless, you let them know that you arrived:” Hi, I’m home.” A familiar shadow was pressing on to your legs, being clearly happy about your return.
“And hello Bagheera.”, you added, as you stroke the cat softly who purred loudly to your touches.
“About time.”, Mapi announced sounding very displeased, you shrieked as she appeared from the darkness, her moves scarily similar to Bagheera. Elegant but lurking, why you didn’t understand. Maybe your behaviour had worked out?
“Mapi, Ingrid, here you’re. but why didn’t you turn the lights on?”, you questioned them irritated.
“We were about to go to bed.”, Ingrid responded calmly.
“Great, me too. I’ll just go to the bathroom quick.”, you sighed.
Mapi raised an eyebrow and said cooly: “You have two minutes.“
“What?“ Confused, you opened the bathroom door. Whatever that was supposed to mean, you were now determined to take your time.
“Go.“, Mapi ordered.
You rolled your eyes, disappearing into the bathroom. You only heard Ingrid say: “Good girl.“
You sat down on the toilet and took out your phone, scrolling through pictures of tonight. Only then, you slipped out of your nice suit and left the bathroom in only your underwear.
Ready to go to sleep, you were about to go into your shared bedroom but Mapi blocked your way.
She leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed in front of her chest: “What did you think you were doing all night?“
“Partying?“, you replied, playing dumb and trying to move past your girlfriend.
“Dancing with Alexia and Ona? You might as well have given them a lap dance.“, Mapi scolded you.
Ingrid appeared next to her, eyeing you closely before turning to the Spanish defender and mumbling seductively: “Our good girl’s gone bad tonight…“
You shot Ingrid a deadly glance: “You think you’re funny? You ignored me all night. I was just having fun.“
“We saw everything.“, Mapi said, her jaw set.
“I’m sure you did, the way you stared at each other all night.“, you rolled your eyes.
“Y/n.“, Ingrid said softly, while Mapi shook her head: “Don’t distract.“
“I don’t!“, you exploded.
Mapi continued: “You were trying to make us jealous all night.“
Ingrid nodded: “Exactly.“
Before you could protest, Mapis hands were on your body and pulled you towards the bed: “Now come here.“
You could feel your back hit the mattress. Your girlfriends climbed onto the bed as well, one on either side of you.
You had no idea what happened but suddenly, Ingrids mouth was on your neck and sucked on the sensitive skin. She slipped a slender hand over your mouth right as you wanted to start to complain. Mapis hands in the meantime rested on your hips.
You were too focused on Ingrids kisses to realize that your Spanish girlfriend had started to pull your panties down with her teeth. Only when she dipped her tongue in, you started to moan into Ingrids hand. She already knew how she had to move her tongue just right.
While Mapi was busy stimulating you, Ingrids mouth wandered across your upper body. Kissing and licking her way towards your breasts. She circled your nipples with her tongue before starting to suck on them. You squirmed under her touch.
Mapi had switched from licking to using her fingers and you could not contain yourself any longer.
Impatiently, you removed Ingrids hand from your mouth. “Stop!“, you whined.
You could see Mapis lips turn into a smirk: “Say please.“
“Please stop.“, you begged impatiently.
And then you finally climaxed, a firework bursting in every part of your body. You moaned.
Mapi rested her head on your stomach as she watched you breath heavily.
Ingrid pressed a kiss to your forehead: “Good girl.“
You knew that this was supposed to be a punishment but right here on the bed, you finally felt seen by your girlfriends again.
460 notes
·
View notes
love-battery (lhs) - req
pairing: heeseung x afab!reader
synopsis: Heeseung always would make you feel recharged just by being around. And you did the same to him.
my's note: hi hello here's a very fluff cute little thing! it's a request (thank you for requesting <3), so i hope you like it!!!! (have to say that when i chose the name of this fic, the jinyoung's song with similar name started to play on my head non-stop help)
warnings: skinship, established relationship, fluff, pet names, explicit language (i can't help myself. i'll always use at least one 'fuck' lol).
wc: 3k
NOT PROOFREAD.
Even with your boyfriend’s tight schedule and the fact you both lived quite far from each other, you and Heeseung always managed ways to meet up and hang out for at least an hour or so – enough to work as a full recharge for Heeseung.
However, for the last whole month you only saw Heeseung three times. You were used to seeing him almost every day, either by going to his and staying for a bit or he coming to yours for the same reason, and it was pissing you off how annoying adult life was being so far, unabling you to do your daily basis chores, let alone drive to Heeseung’s studio to be with him.
Heeseung normally had a tough routine as a producer by spending long hours in his studio, staying up all night working on his music and constantly dealing with tight deadlines. Your favorite hobby was to grab a coffee and some snacks to surprise him by showing up unexpectedly; and of course, to sit on his lap while he kept doing his things.
But now you were the one fighting against time, as you had to deal with your last year in college, struggling with your final project and with your respective project partners – who would have thought that working with people would lead you to be that stressed, huh?
Your life was a total mess at this point, your sleep schedule chaotic, your body aching, begging for a pause to get some proper rest, but you really couldn’t give yourself that luxury; all the submission dates getting closer and closer making you go crazy in desperation.
And on top of that, you haven’t seen your boyfriend, the main source of your happiness, in almost two weeks.
“This is so frustrating, Hee,” you said with a realistic sad tone, when you decided to ignore the blank page on your laptop waiting for a new plot to pop up in your mind, and give your love life a little more attention, calling Heeseung. “It’s almost like the world doesn't want us to be together.”
“Don’t say such things, my love. Not even as kidding,” he interrupted you to say with a gentle voice. “We’re going to figure out something, yeah?”
“I’m sorry, Hee. But– I’m dealing with a bunch of stupid assignments with stupid deadlines in this stupid degree I chose, and you’ve told me early this week that you were pretty chill with your work. But I didn’t even have time to invite you over the days you said you’re free! Not to mention that if you were here I’d be paying more attention to you and getting fucked with my project.”
“Y/N–”
“And when I’m free you’re the one swamped with work! And, please, I’m not blaming you, babe, please don’t take it the wrong way. I love you and I love that you can work with the thing you’re passionate about. I’m just… Frustrated,” you unloaded with a long sigh, voice trembling a bit since your feelings were, also, a mess and your heart aching. “And I miss you so much. I wish we lived a bit closer, so we could meet more often in moments like this.”
You heard Heeseung soft breathing through the phone. He decided to let you vent instead of cutting you off, because he, more than anyone, knew how overwhelmed you felt whenever you had to deal with submission dates and projects. It was your third project in your whole degree, this one being the most important one, and Heeseung saw you in shambles during your working time in the smaller ones, fully understanding how hard it has been with this final one.
“I’m sorry you’re having to go through all of this, pretty girl,” you could feel the comfort in his tender, sweet tone. You wiped out a single tear that tried to escape your eyes, curving yourself into a little ball on your couch. “But you don’t have to do this alone, my love,” you heard a weird noise through his phone, very similar to a door unlocking. Your door unlocking. You frowned. “Don’t freak out, bae. I’m entering your apartment right now.”
Your heart dropped in your chest. “What?” You whispered in disbelief, your phone falling off from your hand, your eyes widening as you watched your boyfriend walk through the front door, smiling big and bright at you.
His dark red hair was attractively messy because of the motorcycle helmet. He also carried a big backpack on his back and a plastic bag with the logo of your favorite food place.
“You’re kidding me,” your voice was barely a whisper at this point, your lips curving into a smile that grew bigger and bigger, still finding it hard to believe that the man talking to you on your phone was now in front of you. Your beloved boyfriend was now in front of you. “Lee fucking Heeseung!” You almost squealed, walking in his direction right after he put his helmet and his backpack on the ground, to jump on his open arms which were waiting to embrace you in a tight hug.
Your legs instantly wrapped around his waist and your arms on his shoulders, his firm hands gripping on your thighs to hold you close and steady as you buried your face on his neck, inhaling his scent as if it was your favorite drug. You heard Heeseung chuckling at your reaction and you finally noticed how fast your heart was beating, everything feeling unreal. All the frustration you felt waving off your body quickly.
“Hi, baby,” Heeseung said in an affectionate way, with you still hidden on the curve of his neck, making him let out a small laugh at your adorableness. He missed you so much.
Your fingers tangled in his soft hair, pulling him into yourself as if you could become one before you started to kiss every piece of his exposed skin, from his jawline to close to his ear, to his cheek, the tip of his nose and finally his glistening, dreamy lips.
Heeseung let out a contented sigh when he felt your sweet taste, walking carefully through the living room so he could sit on the couch with you on his lap, the contact never breaking. He deepened the kiss by slightly brushing his tongue on your bottom lip, electricity running all over his body once you let him in to feel him closer, so intimately; his hands sneaked into your shirt, caressing the bare skin of your waist just because he needed to touch, to feel you more.
“I missed you so much, my love,” you whispered when you parted away to catch your breath, pecking his lip countless times as you said “Missed. You. So. Much. Oh. My. God,” and the last one lasted a bit longer, making Heeseung giggle and kiss you properly one more time.
“I missed you too, pretty.”
Heeseung was looking at you with so much love, his eyes sparkling in joy for finally having you that close, touching, kissing you. He caressed your cheek while his gaze wandered all your face features, as if he was trying to memorize every one of them, completely endeared by your beauty.
Heeseung looked at you as if he just discovered what love is.
You weren’t different, though. Your soft touch on his strands of hair, scratching slightly as your contemplated every piece of your very good-looking boyfriend, not holding yourself when your fingers started gently to trace his face; his big deer eyes now turned into little crescents, his pretty nose that you loved to kiss, the little charming mole on his forehead, and his so, so attractive lips adorning the most beautiful smile you ever had the chance to see. You were so in love.
Heeseung felt like he could stare at you all day and he would never feel tired, actually to have you close always worked as a battery recharge. And for you, Heeseung did the same, making all your bad feelings wash away easily because you had him, and you knew you could rely on him.
Ironically, the sound of your laptop on the coffee table indicating that its battery was running out, pulled you both out of your little love bubble, startling you slightly. The reality check hit you with full force, and the bottom of your stomach sank immediately.
You gulped, looking at Heeseung with a hint of sadness before you sighed and said, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m super happy you’re here, but I–”
“You have things to do, I know,” Heeseung cut you off mid-sentence. His kind voice, the small peck on your cheek, and his cute smile making you shiver and melt. “But don’t worry about me, okay? You do your things, I’ll be around for whenever you finish, and then we can cuddle,” he said simply, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.
“You’re staying?” You questioned with eyes sparkling in confusion. “I don’t want you to mess up your sche–”
Heeseung now stopped your talking with a sweet kiss, and then another, and another, and one more just in case. “I’m staying, baby,” he chuckled at your tilted head, expressing that you were very much confused. “As I said before, I’m pretty chill this week,” he explained with a warm smile, mirroring yours. “Anything I have to do, I can do from my computer or phone, so I’m all yours this weekend, my love.”
Heeseung fell even deeply for you when he saw your eyes shining like you received the best news of your life. And for you, you actually did. To have your boyfriend for a whole weekend after days without being able to see each other, you truly thought you were dreaming.
So to have Heeseung feeding you while your hands worked on your writing was definitely something that you hadn’t planned for your friday. He was openly giving his opinion as well after you cutely asked him to, paying attention to every detail you shared with him about the plot you were working on.
“So your idea is that after he leaves the house, you give an extra zoom on the door knob because someone is going to open, even though the house is supposed to be empty?”
“Yes! And then it’s revealed to be actually his ‘dead’ twin!” You explained excitedly, noticing Heeseung gazing very passionately at you. You blushed, feeling suddenly too aware, because your story now has been read by someone other than you. “I– I know it’s kinda simple and boring, but I mean– I got the approval to keep working on it, so…” You shrugged, trying to act cool, but your pout was showing how insecure you actually felt.
“It’s not simple or anything bad, my love,” Heeseung couldn’t resist the urge of kissing your small pout as he reassured you. “It’s impressive how your creative mind works, I’m really proud,” he said with his voice filled with sincerity.
You gave him a shy smile before going back to writing, heart beating fast with his genuine words.
Heeseung never left your side. You needed him around you every single second, not only to compensate for the days you were apart, but because Heeseung was really your source of energy. So to write on your computer while having his fingers intertwined with yours became a natural activity during the moments you were working on your project. You could feel Heeseung’s love stare at your face during those moments, completely in love by your focused expression.
Sometimes he would leave your touch to reply to some of his co-workers on his phone, giving them the attention they needed, but in the meantime his head would be resting on your shoulder, completely addicted to your touch and to having you close – his hair tickling your neck making you lose focus for a few minutes.
You both wanted and needed each other with the same intensity. Heeseung always loved your clinginess, emphasizing how lovable you looked with your pouty face whenever he had to leave the bed to go to the bathroom or grab some food in the kitchen and “leave you to die alone”, like you normally would say in a very dramatic way. Especially because he himself was pretty clingy too, holding you in a tight back hug whenever you had to go back home after visiting him at his studio, refusing to let you leave his side.
To move in together was a big dream. However Heeseung always talked with you about finishing your studies first before committing your relationship on that instance, so you could have your freedom without him disrupting your focus; he also knew that he wasn’t ready to have you so close for that long, afraid of scaring you off by how much he would be around you, maybe losing his own concentration on his work.
And this behavior was being shown at that moment, by you doing the lunch and him hugging you from behind.
“I have to be honest, I don’t really see this as ‘helping’, Hee,” you said with a playful chuckle, not really bothered by his big hands resting on your hips as well as his chin on your shoulder while you did all the work. He was clinging like a koala, making it challenging to move around the kitchen.
“What do you mean? I’m clearly helping you,” he said with a babyish voice, making you giggle. You could tell he was pouting too. “What if you get hurt? I have to be close, y’know? To save you from danger.”
You laughed hard, throwing your head behind and profusely resting it on his chest. “The danger?”
“Yeah, the knife and fire and stuff…” He explained like it was obvious.
You turned down the heat on the stove, moving away from it so you could face your boyfriend, just to meet his big, adorable eyes looking at you with a dramatically pleading expression. “You’re right,” you said softly, cupping his cheeks and planting a kiss on his lips. “Thank you for protecting me from the dangers of my kitchen,” you added a hint of sarcasm to your very affectionate tone, without holding your smile when he nodded proudly, before pulling you closer to kiss you properly as now your self-proclaimed hero.
After you finished cooking – with Heeseung’s help, of course –, you both shared the meal, doing constant “love shots” but with your food, just so you could feel each other’s touch.
Heeseung didn’t let you go back to work on your project when you finished eating, saying you needed a bit of resting time with him. And how could you oppose such truthful words?
So you spend quite a long time of your Saturday afternoon embraced in Heeseung’s arms and scent all over you, making it difficult to choose anything different from being on the bed cuddling him.
After changing positions many times, you now were on top of Heeseung, face buried on his neck while he hummed some random song, hands gently caressing your back and scalp, making you wonder if taking a quick nap at that moment would mess up too much with your project work.
As if a sense of responsibility hit you, remembering all your deadlines and especially that you had to finish at least the plot writing by Monday – in two days –, you forced yourself to try to move away. Your body refused, though.
“I should go,” you said, muffed into his skin.
“Yeah, you should…” Heeseung added, not moving an inch to help you with that. In fact, he held you closer. Your warm body against his own helping him to relax.
“Like, reeeally gotta go…” You didn’t move as well, trailing kisses all over his neck as you refused to get up.
“Definitely you do…” His voice was a bit raspy in a sweet, tender way that made it even harder for you to leave. He was about to fall asleep.
You sighed, “I missed being like this with you.” You lifted your head just enough to see his serene expression; eyes closed, lips slightly parted and a calm breathing. You almost cried with the fact that you truly needed to go back to your life instead of staying there with Heeseung.
Your hands caressed his face with all the care in the world, making him open his eyes, “I missed it too, pretty. I miss you every moment I’m without you, actually.”
You noticed a soft flush on Heeseung cheeks and giggled at the sight of your ‘so cool’ boyfriend blushing in front of you.
You always appreciated how Heeseung was not only a good listener to your worries and maybe overwhelming thoughts, but also unafraid to show you his most sensitive and vulnerable side in order to make you comfortable on doing the same. You cherished his presence in your life with all you had, not being scared of loving him so openly, because he did the same for you.
“I love you,” you whispered, leaning in to tease a kiss. He smiled against your lips, closing his eyes again.
“I love you too, my love,” he murmured, mirroring your tone and capturing your bottom lip with his own, to pull you near and finally kiss you.
You decided to stay for a bit longer, because Heeseung’s hands roaming your body with such care and tenderness, his sweet mouth working on yours, and his loving whispers against your skin were too irresistible.
The best excuse you found for yourself was that you were revitalizing so you could work better, your creativity would flow easily and you would finish it in no time.
And, well, he would be around you anyway, because he just couldn’t never get enough of your pretty face, or your joyful presence, or your addicting warm touches.
After all, Heeseung always worked as a recharger to your love battery, and for him, you were no different.
268 notes
·
View notes