#him and dove killed rose!!!

[pteridiumaquilinum]

oh. i guess im angry.

[snowsinterlude]

stuffed.

(coriolanus snow x f. reader)

summary: what better way to show your affection towards one than trapping them by your side forever? well, if there was one, president snow didn't knew about it.

c.w: forced breeding, baby trapping, president snow, cnc, slapping, forced creampie, possessiveness, stockholm syndrome at the end, fem. reader, reader is (was) a opera singer

singing like there was no tomorrow was something you did quite often, being a opera singer to the capitol was the best thing that could've happened to you before. especially since you were from the districts.

so now, knowing the president is your fan (something you didn't expected, not even in a thousand years), you were singing your heart out at his parties. every bouquet of white roses he gave you always hid something. pearls, diamonds, earrings of white colored jews. he seemed to like white very much- even though his suit was always the red ones.

then, there was money.

the motive for him to give so many things was revealed when he was pinning you on the wall, the posca he drank seemed to have took control over his brain. somehow, you didn't mind it. maybe because the idea of being the president's favorite girl was something quite appealing- something your stupid self seemed to like very much.

feeling so desired, feeling so loved was something adorable, lovely. especially when he woupd promise you so many things.

you didn't believe any of them. you always made sure to be on the pill, always made sure to put a condom on his dick, always made sure to tell him to pull out when you didn't had a condom.

he was tired of it. he wanted you to be pregnant for him, wanted to see your belly showing through your clothes and the fantasies you used when performing. he wanted you closed on his room with your legs open and your pussy wet- he wanted to kill all of those who were thirsting over you, over the way your corset hugged your body so nicely and made your boobs bounce.

with that in his mind, you noticed just how rude he was tonight.

"i want you to be my wife," he said, midfucking. he would always say things like that while pounding inside you. it was crystal clear to you that he didn’t really wanted it, or so you thought, because his intention ever since he saw you was to fuck his babies into you and make you bear all of them.

"c-cory, let's talk about it later- oh, fuck!" you moaned, fucking yourself on him as his dick entered you so nicely, hitting all the right spots. as always.

you recieved a slap on your ass, accompanied by a thick, strong grab. "not later," he pounded inside you, hand on your waist, grabbing you so tightly you felt like you'd simply die at his touch. maybe it was a good thing. "now. 'wanna talk about it now."

you mewled as he thrusted inside your cunt again, his dick hitting all the right spots, from your cervix to your sweet g spot. "n-no, later, mm, truly."

he slapped your clit. it was getting rough now. you could notice from how hard he bit your nipple, it's not that you don't like it- it's just because you weren't ready for it.

"i'm serious, dove. i want you to be my wife." you didn't listen, too caught up in the pleasure, in the painful bites on your nipple, on the angry soft slaps on your swollen clit.

"s-stop it, you know i can't- i'm a performer, i-"

"i don't fucking care," he grunted, his nails buried into your skin "you're mine. from the moment i layed my eyes on you you were mine." he said, looking at your mewling melted state. "you're so wet, so tight on me, and yet you claim you don't want to be my wife?"

he laughed, as if telling a joke to himself, as if that was the biggest joke on the world. each two thrusts made you squirm, you already came some minutes ago. there were two condoms filled to the brim with his seed by your side on the bed of his guest room.

trying your best not to cum again, he took himself out of you, taking the condom of your side into his hands. he hated the texture. if it depended on him he would fuck you raw everytime. and yet there he was, obediently following your rules just to fuck you senseless.

"w-wait, what are you doing? stop. stop it! ah, fuck!" you squirmed at the hot feeling of his cum entering you, being poured inside of you, it felt so good you couldn't help but want more, for your own surprise. "p-president snow-"

"now is president? until some seconds ago it was coryo." he said, fingering his own cum inside you, making sure nothing would spill.

"p-please stop, i can't be pregnant-"

"you can." he stuffed you with it again, spilled all the cum of he other condom inside you "you will. i'll make sure of that"

taking the condom out of his dick again, the blonde introduced his dick into you again, smiling at the sight and the feeling of your wet cunt.

"fuck- look at you. so wet and still trying to say you don't want it." he smiled, nibbling on your nipple.

"n-no- i dont want to be pregnant, i can't- i have to sing!" you moaned, your hips meeting his with every thrust. you bucked your hips on him, did your best not to like it, but you couldn't lie to yourself, it was wonderful.

"if you don't want this then why are you fucking yourself on me?" his answer was a long moan you gave him, your nails scratching his back, burying themselves deep inside him. "god, you're a whore."

"p-pills. i-i need to find my pills!" you squirmed, your cunt tightening around him so deliciously god that you had to bite your bottom lip as to not let anything out- not to let him know you liked it, from his dick inside you to his cum stuffed into you.

"you wont find them," he smiled. "threw them away"

"oh fuck- pull out, p-pull out!!" you squirmed, but it was too leste already, you were cumming on his dick and he was laughing at you while pinching your clit.

"you said you didn't want that"

"i-i don't. i can't, i sing. my entire life revolves around singing"

"not anymore" he came inside you, dick throbbing into your cunt as you squirmed. "just for nome months, you'll be a caged bird."

the idea he pictured to you was terrible. a wife, always in white, drained out from taking care of two babies. even if the feeling of his cum inside you was terribly good, the thought of being a mother was your worse nightmare.

he proposed to you again the next night. and of course you had to accept. being a single mother is never good to a girl who were originally from the districts. a lot of the capitol's people were running their mouth already, saying you seduced him, manipulated him, or whatever it was.

it was the contrary.

but of course they wouldn't know that, not with your wings clipped together for you to not sing your way out.

not with your round belly showing up. not with the two babies on his arm and his. both looked like you both. your nose, his eyes. his mouth, your hair. you loved them.

maybe it wasn't so bad.

[grugruel]

Big Iron

Pairings:

bounty hunter!Arthur Morgan x outlaw!f!reader

NSFW/MDNI

Masterlist

Summary: She's escaped a robbery, and bounty hunters have been sent out after her. They'd made no problem so far– that said, the notorious Arthur Morgan set upon her trail.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: Arthur Morgan, pinv sex, rough sex, soft sex ish, lap/bulge-riding, praise, petnames (girl, sweetheart, ma'am), creampie, overstimulation.

AN: 3rd person pov, trying it out. Not yet proofread!

A campfire blazed in the night, casting a warm glow over the small, temporary hideout.

Smoldering flakes of ash rose skyward in tired swirls, and the woman's face lit up, sizzling embers of spent coal entrancing her.

The fires of a bright building shouldered It's way into her mind, stealing precious space from all else.

Money was all she had needed. But the simple, well practiced heist escalated. Attempted arson had suddenly been added to her list of offences, robbery another one among them. Which she could admit to, and proudly so.

Trees around her rustled, and she leaned back against the rockwall. An overhanging cliff sheltering her.

Guard lowered, at last. She let herself slide down the wall until she felt the ground beneath her thighs. Then dove deeper into the memory.

But the fire. . . Now the fire was not her fault.

Not only was the law after her, but they'd also sent out money hungry bounty hunters aswell. She'd already tied two of them down yesterday, big brutish men they were. All muscle and no brains. Still, they proved to be quite the nuisance. But they wouldn't be a problem anymore unless they died of starvation, which would indeed be u fortunate.

She gritted her teeth at the memory, her eyes interanally. She doubted it, seeing as they were curently tied to the fence of the sheriff's office.

Which left only one real threat.

One man, one singular man; a notorious outlaw himself. He was the sheriff's most resent hire. Big, deadly, tall and muscled. From long days of hard work killing and robbing she imagined.

She'd actually seen him in person once, and she could admit, he looked dangerous, and devilishly handsome. The rumors had been right about that, she was only hoping that his volatile reputation along with the Van Der Lind gang's would turn out to be folly.

She shivered at the thought, shaking her to the very bones. If it were from the thought of him or the cool of the night, she did not know. She closed her arms around herself, stroking them for warmth as she pushed the unpleasant thoughts away, her gaze snapping to the treeline beyond.

Back to reality, and suddenly accutely aware of the black darkness that lingered between the thick stems beyond. Her vision was good, and she was quite hidden after all. No one would be sneaking up on her.

"Ma'am."

From the shadows, a man appeared at the edge of the campfires domain, vaguely illuminated by its warmth. Broad and tall in frame, the deep night clung to his back. His sudden prescence was the only evidence of his arrival, he'd made no sound nor been seen before he'd needed to be.

Her eyes snapped in his direction, widening with recognition, the eerie sense divulged itself to her body. Like poison, it spread quickly, crawling into every blood vessel and turning them ice-cold along its journey.

"Mister," she greeted, doing her damndest to stay calm.

His hat covered his eyes, but the smile he dealt was unmistakable. 'There's quite the bounty on you, girl.' The drawl of his accent sunk into her skin like the warmth of the fire.

"There's no doubtin' that," she nodded in admittal, slowly moving away from him, "Although im only worth half of it, I assure you."

She moved slowly, eyes meeting his as they poked out beneath his hat. He tilted his head to face hers, regarding her silently. Eyes flickering over her, the way her hair fell over her shoulders, and how her blouse revealed the hills of her chest. ". . . 'S that so?. . ." He took a step closer, the rope in his hands now excruciatingly evident to her.

She got to her feet in one swift motion, hesitantly gesturing for him to stay calm. "Mister, I'm not a murderer. The sheriff framed me." She took a few steps to the left, placing the fire between them.

The man chuckled. "I belive ya' ma'am." His hands pulled on the lasso, adjusting its length. Gripping it roughly from time to time, trigger fingers readying themselves for any sudden movement. "But the law can be a crooked thing sometimes." His eyes narrowed in on her, then shrugged nonchalantly. "But, a bounty 's still a bounty girl."

The birds sang above them, and the world blurred around her, her knees suddenly weak. Unfortunately for her, he would be there to catch her in a sense too literal for her liking.

"And I can say the same for myself ma'am, I'm a bad man. . ." His voice imposed, yet, the gravely tone vibrated perfectly well in her ears.

Gulping her nervousity, she assessed her options. . . And then ran.

Trees rushed past in peripheral whirls as she made her way along the cliff wall. Rope flexed behind her, threads wringing against eachother as it was swung and thrown with a woosh.

The air caressed her cheeks, pulling tears from her eyes and whistling in her ears. She gave it all she had, but it wasn't enough to stop the lasso from capturing her with deadly accuracy. It fell over her shoulders and tightened around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides.

The rope pulled taunt–and the world stopped moving for a short second, with a yank, her body whipped forward, and her feet was swept from under her–then, just as suddenly, it sped up again.

Like a tree cut down for its timber, she fell. The ground rushed up to greet her face as she stumbled to the ground with a hard thud. She panted, smelling the earth and feeling the wet grass tickle her face as she struggled against her entanglement; wriggling and thrashing like a stranded fish.

Well-used leather chaps groaned behind her as he stalked closer, winding the rope up with friction she was sure could start a fire, her stumache churned the thought.

The woman rolled onto her back to get a better layout of the situation–and there he stood. Just by her feet, he loomed over her. With his back to the fire, it cast a back-lit glow around him, framing the big man as he filled her sight. Fear and desire fought for the helm, conflicting her mind terribly.

He crouched down, bending over her as he circled the rope around her waist, foirtyfying her restraints and securing his valuable bounty tightly.

He grabbed the lasso and pulled her up diagonally. It pinched her midriff painfully and pulled her body flush against his, just so he could level her head with his. ". . . And I've done bad things," he whispered, lips brushing against her ear. A dull pulse appeared where there ought to be no pulse. She screwed her eyes shut, and lust for this man was the last thing she should be feeling. But oh. . . How his breath raised goosebumps and spread like a wildfire over her skin.

He straightened his legs and stood back, pulling her with him while keeping their bodies close together.

Her breath fanned over his lips as they stood a mere inch apart, one bound and the other free. A smirk made its way onto his lips, his hands sliding along the tied rope around her abdomen until they were at her waist. And in one strong motion–he threw her over his shoulder.

She yelped in surprise. "You brute!" Kicking wildy in hopes of getting free. But one of his arms circled around her legs and gripped the back of her thigh to keep them still, while he laid the other on the small of her back to stop her from falling. "You keep your hands to yourself Mister!" She shouted, struggling against his bullish strength.

"Yes, ma'am." He assured as he began walking, not paying her futile thrashing much mind. "That's not the kind of bad man I am."

She cleared her throat and huffed, expecting more of a reaction. She didn't quite know what to do in this situation, she hadn't planned this far ahead. She didn't think she'd ever be properly cought. "Well, good," she said curtly, calming herself.

Being a nuisance and making this whole situation worse would be a bad idea, and she hadn't made any progress thus far, seeing as his grip was solid steel. So she'd have to settle her mind with the feeling of his strong back beneath her instead. In fact, she was reveling in the feeling of his hand on her thigh.

He stomped out the campfire before moving to where he'd hidden his horse. "Sittin' or layin'?" He asked, being nice enough to hand her to option of sharing his saddle or to be stored over his horses ass.

She huffed, "what a gentleman. Take a guess Mister," she muttered.

He nodded, "Sittin' with me it is." His hands moved to her waist, and easily transfered her from his shoulder and onto the saddle. She scoffed for the sake of scoffing, eyes narrowing as she looked down on him, and if it had the power to, her look could certainly have killed him. "Quite presumtions of you."

With a low chuckle and a shake of his head, he gripped the saddle before climbing on. Placing his hands on either side of it, one hand on the pommel and the other on the cantel. Which just so happened to be between her thighs, and just behind her ass. Almost grazing her on both sides as he braced himself against the saddle, eyes meeting hers with a satisfied smirk, "Much more attitude from ya' girl and I'll have to take meassures."

Shock sprung itself on her, feeling dizzy all over again. The knuckle of his thumb was an inch away from brushing against her cunt. Her eyes widened at the fact, and the implications his words carried. Her loins burned, but she simply cleared her throat and neutralised her expression, "Id like to see you try." And faced away from him, turning her nose upward.

He climbed onto the horse, placing himself close intil her back and leaned over her shoulder. "I will if you'd let me, respectfully, ma'am," he whispered in her ear and then spurred his horse. Shivers shook her at that, her entire body vibrating with a dull sense of need.

They rode silently for a long while, and she wanted to sass him, she wanted it terribly. But was both afraid and hoping he'd take action, just as he'd stated.

The miles wound on, oh it felt never ending. Especially with the man behind her, rutting his hips against her with every step of the horse. He was a blessing against the cold, but pure torture as his heat soaked into all the wrong spots of her body.

Finally, it came time to rest. They'd ridden nonstop from the early morning of her capture to the next night. If that weren't enough, a heatwave had been raging for the entirety of the day as well, and the setting of the sun had barely made a difference.

He set her on the ground, binding her feet and hands before starting on the camp. Making quick work of the fire and tent as she sat down on a rock, silently watching the man work, and very much enjoying the show.

His skin was slick with sweat, much like herself. The cool light of the moon and the warmth of the fire made him glisten in every sense of the word, and oh, the way he toiled away.

He'd removed his vest and chaps as he got to work, respectively rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, which now stuck to his skin. A nuisance for him to be sure, but a dream for her, she could practically see the muscles of his chest rippling.

A drop of sweat trickled down her temple, tickling her skin and drawing focus away from the view. Her eyes widened as she realised how she stared at the stranger and shook her head, attempting to clear it.

Goodness, focus. She needed to hatch a plan.

Running would do her no good, he would be too fast. He wouldn't accept bribes either and was very hard to persuade. No attempts had been successful so far.

At that thought, unavoidably, abashedly her eyes snapped back to him as he pulled his shirt off and reached for a new one in his saddlebag. She clenched her jaw to keep it from falling, his strong chest was adorned by hair, trailing down his abdomen and disappearing under, the waist of his pants.

She swallowed. In that exact moment, she wanted nothing more than to see where that trail ended.

Her jaw began aching, she fought to tear her eyes away from him. Managing to direct her gaze to the ground instead, a d impatiently waited for him to put a fresh shirt on.

After a short while, she dared look up again. He'd pulled a log to opposite side of the fire and sat down, a cigarette had been placed between his lips, and was currently being inhaled with fervor. Tilting his head back, he released the cloud of smoke with a sigh.

Her eyes followed his movements intently, studying them as she hoped that perhaps he'd notice her and offer one–

"Want one, girl?" He nodded toward her, gesturing with the match box.

"I do, yes," she answered expectantly, holding her hands out for him to untie.

But to her surprise, he scoffed, then stod and walked around the fire. He crouched onto one knee in front of her, his arm bracing on top of the other. "You'll have to do better than that," he said.

He plucked the cigarette from his lips and offered it to her, holding it an inch from her mouth. She hesitated, observing him with disdain. "Go on," he nodded.

Reluctantly, she followed his orders, but met his eyes to make sure he knew how unhappy she was about it, and then leaned in.

Closing her lips around the cigarette, she could feel the dampness where his own lips had been moments before, and sucked the toxic smoke into her lungs, as if it were air.

She swore she saw something glint in his eyes, studying her pouting lips. And a plan struck her suddenly, but–

"Good girl," he hummed.

Again, shock gripped her. The praise rose right to her head, sending waves of heat cascading through her body. Then she coughed, the smoke settling wrong in her airways. She pulled back, letting him retrieve his cigarette while she worked to regain her composure. "You alright there, sweetheart?" He asked with a grin and patted her back before replacing the cig between his lips.

"Just fine, mister," she hissed, still reeling. "You got anything stronger? Whiskey, bourbon?"

He nodded and pulled out an old bottle of bourbon from his bag, "Could you?" She held her hands out to him again.

He studied her, stroking his stubbled jaw in thought. "Got somethin' for me, then?"

Insinuations led her down a path of filthy thoughts, but she instead opted for a simple, "Please?" Instead, attempting it cheapishly.

His hands slipped down to his hip, pulling the knife from its hilt. "That's more like it," he mumbeled with his cigarette clad lips.

And cut the rope around her hands and feet, stopping at the rope around her waist and met her eyes. "Try anythin'. . ." He raised his eyebrows and lowered his voice to a mocking tone. ". . . Run, hurt me, trick me." His eyes narrowed, the corner of his lip tugging. "And there'll be a steep price to be paid."

Swallowing, she nodded enthusiastically, "I just wan't a sliver of freedom before im locked up, you could understand that."

He nodded. "S'pose so. . ." And began untying. "The difference is, girl–" The lasso loosened and slid down her sides. "–that I'd never get caught." He gathered it and pulled it over her body, his fingers accidentally brushing against her hips, the sides of her breasts.

Her breath hitched, and their eyes met. Her skin tingled desperately as fluttering wingbeats set off in her stumache. Such a small thing, building into such a big reaction.

He cleared his throat, handing her the bottle as he threw the rope into the fire and put the lasso bag in his saddlebag. Finally replacing himself on another log, not as far away from her this time. He leaned back against the tree behind it and spread his legs wide. His bulge was enough to make her salivate. "It's not easy, you know, for a woman like me, when there's men like you, Mr Morgan."

Arthur quriked an eyebrow in question. "You know me?"

"I know of you," she corrected, taking a big swig of the fluid, then handed it back to him for him to do the same.

He nodded silently, a sigh escaping under his breath. "All bad I hope." He took another swallow, not to bothered by her statement. Probably used to hearing it by now.

She shook her head, taking the bottle and another gulp. "Many of the ladies say you're handsome."

At this, he looked up at her, chuckling. "Well, I don't know 'bout that."

"It's true. . ." Antoher sip, followed by a hiccup. "They say you can be quite the gentleman too."

His eyes bore into hers, his tone serious but expression joking as he humored her. "Depends on the lady." He reached for the bottle, and she stood up to give it to him. Walking closer, she handed it over, fingers brushing against each other in the motion.

His eyes met hers, and she brushed her hand under his chin. "You know what else they say, Mr Morgan?"

"No . . . What do they say about me, sweetheart?" A smirk made its way onto his lips. The liquor seamingly starting to affect the pair of them.

"That you're good in bed. . ." he stepped between his thighs, her hand falling from his chin to his neck, scratching at the nape gently.

He hummed appreciatively, then took another sip of the bourbon and set the bottle aside. His hands reached for her, coming to a rest on either side of her thighs, pulling her closer to him, squeezing them at his pleasure. "They're only rumours girl." He tilted his head backward, resting it against the tree to get a better look at her, eyes fastening on her lips.

With her other hand, she hiked her skirt up, revealing her thighs as she stepped over his legs. One at a time, then slowly sank down on his lap, while his hands automatically slid to her hips.

She placed herself on top of his bulge. He grunted from the pressure. The pulse within her began strumming at her nerves, turning them jittery.

"See, I doubt that, Mr Morgan." She whispered. "Women do not lie to eachother of such things." His bulge beneath her grew harder, luring a hidden smile from her. It took strength to will it from her lips and only reach her eyes. "They say you're rough, or gentle. Dependin' on your mood." As she said that, she could've sworn she detected the faintest red creep up his cheeks. Arthur Morgan, blushing? Now, she couldnt help herself and the smile reached her lips.

The man cleared his throat, acting as if it had never happened. "That's told of me in everythin' I do." He smirked, the grip on her hips hardening, knuckles turning white.

"But you're always sweet 'n caring." She continued, her own words were building the lust within her, making the pulse ever stronger. It grew harder to focus. She needed to release some of the pressure building inside her. Evaluating the consequences, and deaming them minor in conparison to her needs, she rocked her hips downward–grinding into his bulge.

Simultaneously, she whimpered and he hissed. She leaned against him, her lips brushing against his ear as shenuzzled his cheek. "Apparently, It's also true what they say 'bout ridin' cowboys-"

"Girl," he interrupted with a chuckle. "Dont think I dont know what you're doin'. . ." He breathed. "Seducin' me." With the tight grip on her hips, he rocked her hips against him, the rough fabric of his pants grinding against her core.

With a gasp, one of her hands shot out to burry itself in his hair. She leaned into him, the other hand grabbing his shirt for support as she rested her head against his shoulder. He nuzzled his cheek against hers, returning the gesture and muttered. "You use your sweet talkin', then get me drunk 'n run off, that your plan?"

Her eyebrows furrowed, hips grinding down harder, her ruts becoming more frantic, needy. She screwed her eyes shut from the copious amounts of pleasure washing over her. All she could do to answer him was hum in admittal as she strained hard to focus.

He chuckled. "Easy girl. . ." His voice commanding, low and raspy as he slowed her hips, but keeps the pace hard. "Use your words." He ordered, loving the way she fell apart for him.

She nodded hastily, hoping it'd be enough satisfy his request. But he pinched her hip through the fabric of her skirt, and her eyebrows furrowed in pain. However, not having the energy to even make a sound. Her thoughts were a blur, she couldn't tell what to keep hidden anymore. "Yes– yes. . ." She moaned, the coil inside her tightening impossibly hard.

"Thought so," he breathed, the words curt on his tongue, but lust evident in his voice. Suddenly, his hands left her hips, snd one arm snaked around her waist, his hand placing itself at the small of her back to push her against him.

Then he stood, drawing a whine from her. She did not quite understand what was going on as the loss of movement gradually undid all the progress she'd made. "Mr Morgan?" She inquired, hesitantly wrapping her legs around his hips.

He walked them toward the tent. "Arthur," he corrected, carrying her with ease. Pushing the tent flap to the side, he kneeled, bending over her as he placed her on the ground.

"Arthur," she smiled, worry seeping out of her as she realised he was making them more comfortable.

His knees slid apart, hooking her legs upon them as they spread. Her hands shot up in response, grabbing onto the collar of his shirt to pull him closer, close enough for his lips to hover over hers. Their eyes met. "Please. . ." She whimpered, one hand sliding downward. ". . .Please." She said again, fingertips trailing down his abdomen, suddenly grabbing hold of his bulge with a firm hand, his member rock hard. "Outlaw or gentleman?" She asked, smiling a wicked smile.

A grutn escaped him while his lips brushed over hers. "Neither." And grabs her wrist, pulling her hand away from his crotch and catching the other in the same motion. His free hand reached over her head, and the hauntingly familiar groaning of strong rope sounded above her. She shook her head, "Arthur, please. . ." Panic moved into her voice, the repeated words carrying a completely different meaning this time.

He held both wrists with one hand and tied them together with the other, the rope stinging her skin. She cried out unhappily.

But he chuckled, in a matter of factly kind of way. Stroking the burn gently as ge corrected her, "Should've behaved." And when done, he sat back. Observing her as she laid tied up, legs spread in front of him, and circled around his hips. Much to his dismay, he wouldn't be enjoying the sight as much as he wanted to. "It's late."

"Arthur. . ." She pleads, attempting to appeal to him, one last time.

He turns his head just enough to see her in his peripheral. "Get some sleep. You got a long day ahead of you tomorrow." He flashed his eyebrows smugly. "Night, sweetheart." Then exited the tent without another word.

She huffed, unbelievable.

Sweetheart. . . But how could she be annoyed when he called her such a thing. She dreamed herself away, with imagines of a shirtless Arthur Morgan and the feeling of him inside her. But she'd not given up, make no mistake, he would fall asleep and she would leave. . .

The night carried on and the temperature finally began dropping, a shiver shook her pleasantly. It was a welcome change. Her body strained as she raised her neck to get a look of the outside. Through the flap she saw Arthur, sitting, snoring, hat covering his face as he leaned back against the tree he'd previously been sitting on.

Now, she needed to get rid of her restraints. Rolling over, she crawled toward the opening, her eyes never leaving Mr Morgans sheathed knife.

The fire had been reduced to embers at this point. Crackling and sizzling lowly as the cool moisture in the air riddled the grass with dewdrops, dampening her hands and skirt as she approached her goal. She sat on her knees, then moved to grab the knife carefully, gnelty sliding it out. The sound of it unlatching nearly had her yelp.

No movement in Arthur.

Shallow breaths, she exhales. Relief flooding through her begoee she began working the knife against her entangled wrists with her fingertips. Carefully regarding the vicious man for any signs of waking. But her thoughts slid, perhaps, if he caught her, he would be kind. Or would he be angry? She could truly not decide werther which reaction she'd most prefer–

The rope snapped, and exhilaration filled her. Gaze snapping between her free hands and the hunter, imagining her prospects. She stood quietly, holding her skirt tightly around her to keep the fabrics from rustling. Slowly, knife still in hand, she backed away. On careful tiptoed steps she faded into the night, the fire dwindling in the distance.

The darkness made it hard for her to see much of anything, at its height the tree-crowns silhouette were visible against the blue summer sky. Branches moved, leaves swished in the gentle wind. She grew paranoid, head snapping in every direction, reacting to every little noise around–

A branch broke behind her, she jumped, turning around so fast she almost ripped– a Buck. She froze, a god damned buck? She had expected it ro be Arthur, but she seemed to have ogtten the better of him. The animal looked at her, ears twitching as it chewed on grass– suddenly hopping away. She sighed and turned back.

Only to collide with something hard. Her thoughts raced, she knew, she knew. She looked up, eyes tracing along his body until they met his, half hidden under his hat. Reflexes prepared her to run, but before she had as much as taken a step back, a hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her back to him. Again, she thumped into his strong chest. Held against him with the familiar iron grip, she fought, as usual; but to no avail, as usual. He snaked an arm around her waist to hinder her from breaking free, yet she kicked and punched violently with her free limbs. But it made no dent in the man. He couldn't even spare her a reaction as he half carried, half dragged her back into the low light of the burnt out fire. He spun her around and pushed her up against the cliff wall, grabbing the wrist closest to him and pinning it above her head. 'I warned you, girl.' He snarled, the look in his eyes doing just as good a of job pinning her to the wall as his hands. He reaches for the second–

When something sharp digs into the soft flesh of his throat, he froze. His chest was the only thing moving between the two of them, heaving breaths of annoyance.

'Thrid times the charm.' She smirked.

He raised his eyebrows and chuckled, 'That so?' His voice mocking, and before she could comprehend what had happened, he'd captured both wrists with one hand and slammed them above her head and into the wall. And the knife had appeared in his free hand, she noticed this because it was now held against her own throat. 'Repeat that for me girl.'

Her lips struck a thin line as she attempted a neutral expression, although fuming on the inside. She shrugged her shoulders, 'No.' Was all she said, but stubborn in tone.

He nodded, looking her up and down, studying the buttons on her blouse. 'Ought to teach you a lesson sweetheart.'

She cleared her throat, deciding that to act nonchalant was her best option. 'Yeah? What ya' gunna do, huh? Ravage me?' She asked half joking, but still hoping there'd be some truth to it.

At this, the corner of his mouth turned up, a wicked grin developing on his lips. 'I just might.' He breathed, tracing the tip of the knife downward, along her collarbone and then along the front of her blouse, coming to a stop at the first button. She gulped, feeling the knife poke through the thin fabric against her chest, making goosebumps run amock in reaction and the pulse reheating in her core. He leaned forward, pushing his body against hers until there was no room left between them, his head hovering just above the crook of her neck. 'May I do with you as I please?'

This was it, the sweet balance between a hardened outlaw and a tender gentleman. 'Yes– yes, Arthur please.' Her voice near a cry, it took everything in her to control her tone–

Her blouse ripped, from top to bottom he cut it open, and she wasn't wearing a brasier. Her chest laid bare before him, and he groaned happily at the sight.

With her go-ahead he wasted no time, he let go of her hands and cut her skirt too. Cutting a slit as far as he reached with the knife then threw it to the side, and the tore the rest. She gasped, every nerve in her body on edge. In an instant, his lips were upon hers. Hungry, hungry lips devouvered her as hands roamed her body, groping and grabbing wherever they got purchase. Her own hands greedily searching for a steady hold in his hair, she grabbed a fistful and pulled gently. He moaned at the feeling, such a beautiful sound. His hands slid over her breasts, squeezing them, then pushed the remains of her blouse off of her shoulders.

Except for her undergarments, she stood completley exposed for him. She could practically feel him salivating when he cupped her clothed mound, and finding her clit with expertise and rub it through the fabric.

She tore herself free from his kisses, she had to breathe. A deep gasp brought oxygen to ger lungs once again, allowing her to whimperand moan in equal measure as he worked her clit. The pressure made her knees week, she wriggled, attempting to rut against his hand. But she was too unsteady to make progress. Noticing her difficulties, his other hand slid behind her back and held her steady. Allowing her to chase her pleasure. And left with no lips to kiss, he latched onto her neck instead, to suck at her sweet spot.

She hummed appreciatively, unable to keep a big smile from her lips as pulses of pleasure washed through her. She slid her hands from his hair and unbuttoned his shirt, running her fingers along his strong chest and abdomen, gingerly feeling all of him as her hands worked themselves lower. Finally unbuttoning his pants. She did no longer have to wonder were his happy trail dissapeared too, she bit her lip. He was huge. She stuck her hand into his pants and stroked him eagerly. 'Need ya' Arthur, please.' She panted.

He let out a strained grunt against her shoulder, and his hand left her clit. She whined, but didn't have to stay displeased for long.

Both his hands slid down her sides, and she tried to breathe steadily, but it proved hard. The feeling of his calloused hands on her skin was too heavenly. Suddenly, he lifted her. Pinning her against the cliff wall with his arms and the weight of his body, allowing her to wrap her arms and legs around him. She hadn't known, but he had wordlessly obided her request. He pulled her garments to the side, and line himself up with her entrance. 'Sure about this?' He asked, a final reassurance.

'Yes.' She purred, no hesitation in her answer.

And so he pushed inside her, the sheer size of him was making her want to scream–

'Good girl.' He moaned, and directed his eyes to hers. She repressed a moan, biting her lip hard to hinder it as heat flashed through her. It was two words, yet she could've come undone from them alone, when said by him alone.

He gazed upon her softly, one of his hands left her thigh to gently stroke a strand of hair from her face. She smiled, and so did he. He was just giving her time to adjust, but her heart soared at the simple gesture.

God how could she feel so strongly for a stranger?

Her hands retangled in his hair as Arthur slid out of her, she furrowed her brows– but in a rough, quick thrust. He shoved himself back inside of her, filling her to the brim. He set a cruelly pleasurable, unrelenting pace. Any trace of gentleness gone.

She felt the pressure tightening within her, building snd building until she was on the verge of coming once again. Her hands sunk to his back, clawing and scratching because she did not know what else to do, he was too much, too good, too big. He overstimulated her with his mere prescence. And he knew when her walls tightened around him, adding extra pressure onto his already throbbing member. 'You close girl?' He grunted, his gruff voice breathed against her ear and his hand squeezing her thigh roughly beneath her. God it was sublime.

'Mhm. . . So- close.' She murmurs, her words coming out jagged as her body rocks with Arthurs thrusts. Pushed closer to her release with each thrust, once again, she shut her eyes and spots speckled her eyelids. Breathing turns frantic, she could no longer tell who was who as they mixed, moans and curses spilling from them both.

With a flash of pleasure, searing hot it soured through her, making her whimper uncontrollably. His thrusts slow, holding her securely, caressing her face and kissing her lips as she rides out her high. 'You're alright girl.' He breathes reassuringly, 'Well done Sweetheart.'

Overstimulated tears roll from her eyes, 'Oh Arthur, you sweet, sweet man.' She sighs happily, and he comes a mere second later. His seed filling her and oozing out.

They'd clean themselves tomorrow, since tiredness plagued them currently. He backed away from the wall and she clung to him, desperatley not wanting to part with him.

He carried her back to the tent, this time not bothering to tie her up as they laid down facing eachother. Arthur, grabbed her chin between his index and forefinger. Studying her thuroughly before they finally succumbed to sleep. She could escape if she wanted to, he wouldn't stop her this time. Her plan had worked, they both knew it. But they felt something else too, and they both knew it.

Hooded eyes blinked, blushing at Arthurs intent eyes and searching gaze. Her eyelids weighed down by exhaustion, It'd been a long few days, and before she knew it–

The light dawns, rays of dusty sunlight shone through the flap of their tent as the morning wakes. Bringing warmer tempratures and calm birdsong.

He opens his eyes, and immediately meet hers. She'd just been admiring him. 'Surprised?' She asked, biting her lip and stopping herself from reaching out to touch him.

He smiles, 'Naw, I was hopin' I'd wake up to you girl.'

[rafeandonlyrafe]

obsessive love

words: 2.1k

warnings: 18+ only!!!, smut!!!, MURDER!!!, SERIAL KILLER!RAFE, PSYCHO!RAFE but sweet with reader, best friends to lover, DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD AND STABBING, physical violence, psycho!reader as well!, romanticization/sexualization of murder?, mentions of stalking (in the past), road head, blowjob, p in v sex, semi public sex, rafe beating up your dates tehe, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT (advisement to take caution and heed warnings! ty)

rafe is only half paying attention as the movie plays out on the screen. he’s far more focused on the way you’re tucked into him, squealing every time a jumpscare happens and ducking your head into his chest with a wide smile on your face.

it’s not unusual for you to get touchy with him, to cuddle in bed after a day together or hold hands when in a crowd. but lately rafe has found it difficult to not take things further. he has loved you since first grade. not had a crush on like some people like to say. no, rafe only knows deep, obsessive love for you.

it’s why you barely dated anyone high school, rafe was always there to beat your date up and make sure they didn’t reveal it was him. afterall, you’re his best friend. he just wants you to be happy. happy and with him. no one else deserves you, or can protect you the way he can, go to the extreme lengths rafe will.

rafe realized he was in deep shit when he was stalking one of your dates that he wasn’t able to get to. he dropped you off on your front porch and had the audacity to kiss you. rafe exploded the second you were inside. you found your date a bleeding and bruised pulp still on your doorstep the next morning.

“its not even that scary.” rafe chuckles, teasing you as you grip onto his forearm.

“yes it is!” you love getting scared. it’s what you often say is your worst feature. you may scream your head off at horror movies, but you’ll still drag rafe along to haunted houses come halloween and stay up late binging your favorite thrillers with a smile on your face despite the chills down your spine.

rafe forces himself to pay attention to the last couple minutes of the movie. its entertaining enough to distract him from wanting to pull you closer to him, to never let you go, to always keep you by his side where you're safe and happy.

an idea forms in rafes head as he watches the two characters finally kill the serial killer that had murdered all of their friends and tried to go after them. he watches the way they embrace, relief on their faces as they kiss, bonded together forever from the shared trauma.

rafe smiles as you ask him if he’s up for another movie, purposely navigating you to one involving an in love couple and people getting mysteriously murdered in their small town. rafe knows what he’s going to do to keep you close, to play into your fear and need for him.

--

“holy shit!” you grab the remote, unmuting the tv. you would apologize for using the language in front of wheezie, but she has just a bad of mouth as you do, and very little supervision now that ward is dead and rose fled with what little money she had left.

you both watch the news report on the edge of your seat, the anchor giving details on the recent murder in kildare. it’s a boy you went to school with, but haven’t spoken to since graduation. when the anchor begins to go over details of the murder, you click the tv off.

“hey!” wheezie argues, scrunching her brow as she looks at you, but you just shake your head. “you don’t need to be watching that kind of stuff, wheeze.”

you stand up to find rafe, eyes glancing around nervously, as if whoever murdered the boy could be lurking inside tanneyhill. you don’t realize that the murderer is just the man you want to see.

“rafe, oh my god!” you cry out when you round the corner to find him walking down the hallway. you fling your arms around his shoulders. he’s shocked for only a second before pulling you in, holding you by your waist as the words spill from your mouth, recounting the news to him.

“oh, that’s terrible.” he frowns, hand gliding up and down your back. “you better stay the night tonight, yeah?” he offers. it’s hours away from dark, but you certainly don’t want to venture home after hearing the news.

“yeah, if you don’t mind.” you feel your cheeks blush slightly, knowing you’ll end up sharing a bed with rafe as always.

“i never mind.” he smiles at you.

--

you wrap your arms around yourself as you watch the news report. the third murder in just under a month just took place last night. you lean against rafe, who presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“i can’t believe we knew all three people killed.” they weren’t particular gruesome deaths, most just a couple stabs with a sharp knife and leaving them to bleed out, there was no passion in the murder itself, no torturing or postmortem injuries.

“i know, it’s scary.” rafe is glad you can’t see the smile on his face. you already spent most nights anyways, but now you’re over more and more, only feeling safe when you have rafes arms around you. it makes it a little hard for him to slip away, but he finds the time.

“and not the fun kind of scary.” you pout. “although…” you trail off, almost like you didn’t mean to say it.

“although what?” rafe questions. 

you sit up a little straighter, wiping your hands on your pants. “it’s a little exciting, isn’t it?” you admit. “that makes me sick, doesn’t it?”

rafe shakes his head, pulling away slightly to see your big innocent eyes blinking up at him as you continue to explain. “obviously it’s terrible these people are dead but… god, it’s exhilarating!” your words switch to rambling as you finally get your feelings out. “like the thrill of knowing there’s someone out there killing people, it just makes me feel so alive! as long as i don’t get killed or anyone close to me-”

“i won’t kill you.” rafe says the words to stop your rambling, not even realizing his slip up. “i won’t let you get killed.” he quickly corrects himself.

“i know.” you look rafe up and down. he can tell when your face shifts into one of sheer concentration, mind slowly piecing the puzzle together. rafe needs to do something now before it all comes together.

he could scream or yell for wheezie or… rafe leans in and presses his lips against yours, mouths molding together. you hesitate for a moment before kissing back, much to rafes relief.

“i won’t let you get killed because i love you.” rafe says, hand cupping your jaw to bring you in for another kiss.

“oh, rafe.” you coo, smooching all across his face before landing on his lips again. “i love you too!”

--

it’s harder now that you’re moved in. you went from spending most nights in rafes bed to making tanneyhill your home as well, cuddling and kissing every night until you’re off to sleep.

he doesn’t need to kill as much now anyways, besides he’s got most of the boys from high school who looked at you a little too hard in your shorts for gym class, or said lude things about you when you weren’t around.

you’re well and truly his, but rafe can’t help himself. he loves the way you hide in his arms when a murder happens, how you kiss him deeply and tell him you love him so much, how you’re so glad that something good came out of something terrible and that you’re together now.

rafe waits until you’re fast asleep before slipping his arm out from under you. he grabs the knife from the back of his closet before heading out. he just needs someone. to stab and maim someone. it’s been months since the serial killers last appearance, and people are starting to relax again, including you, even asking if rafe minded if you went out with your girlfriends without him.

rafe does what he needs to do. he doesn’t enjoy the act itself, but he doesn’t dislike the feeling after either. he walks back into the house, knife bloody but wiped off on the victims own clothes as to not drip all over the house as he sneaks in.

his footsteps pause when he sees you standing there, robe wrapped around your shoulders. he knows you see it. he knows you know everything.

“baby, please don’t leave me i-”

“can i come with you next time?” 

“what?” your question shocks rafe, his voice raising before glancing up the stairs to make sure he didn’t wake wheezie.

“next time you kill someone. will you take me with you?” you ask, glancing at the knife, hating the rush you feel over your whole body when seeing it. it’s the last confirmation you needed for what you have been suspecting.

“i-baby, i don’t need to kill anymore. i’ll stop, it was just-”

“no.” you shake your head. “rafe, i don’t care. you can keep doing it. it’s… exciting.” you’re not ashamed this time when admitting it. you used to be worried about the murders but now you know there’s truly no need. rafe would never hurt you.

“okay.” he swallows, stepping closer, glad that you don’t turn away as you accept a kiss pressed to your lips. “okay, i’ll bring you next time.”

--

“shit, that was exciting!” you squeal, smiling as you turn to rafe. “seeing the life drain out of his eyes? and god, you were so hot when you stabbed him!”

“baby, you sound crazy.” rafe chuckles, easily gliding the car around the turns of the backroads, heading back towards home.

“rafe, you are a literal serial killer, i don’t think you should lecture me on sounding crazy.” you giggle, not even tired despite the late hour from all the adrenaline. “and god, you looked so hot stabbing that guy.”

you reach over and run your fingers down his forearm, remembering the way his muscles bulged and stretch when swinging the knife. your hand moves from rubbing his arm to his thigh, only pretending that your movements are innocent for a minute before you slide your hand up to his crotch, rubbing at his length, feeling it harden in his pants.

“baby-” rafe groans, eyes flicking between you, your hand, and the road in front of him illuminated by his headlights.

“just keep driving, it's okay.” you unbuckle so you can lean across the center console, lips pressing against his neck, tongue darting out to taste his skin.

you tug at the front of his sweatpants, rafe lifting his hips to assist you as the car engine roars. you grip his cock, teeth running over his jaw teasingly, never biting down as you stroke him eagerly, wanting to thank him for continuing his killing spree, for starting it for you and allowing you to take part.

“let me suck you off.” you gather your hair to one side, fucking your head until you're bent sideways. you hold rafes cock with one hand at his base while your lips sink down around the head, moaning at the familiar taste on your lips.

“fuck.” rafe swerves slightly, glad there's no one else on the road as you suck and lick at him, not caring that you're dripping spit down your chin from your movements.

“lemme pull over baby.” rafe says. he knows how much you like the excitement, the rare possibility someone could drive by, but he needs you hop0ing on his dick.

“fiiiine.” you say dramatically, going right back to sucking him off until rafe pulls on a dirt road. you work your shorts and panties off so the second the car is shifted into park, you swing your legs over to straddle rafe.

“shit, you're so wet.” rafe groans as you rub his cock through your folds.

“i told you.” you smirk at rafe. “you looked so hot killing that guy.”

you sink down before rafe can reply. 

the murders shift from rafe doing them in secret to make you rely on him, to force you closer, to something you do together, you often doing the planning while rafe finishes the task with violence.

you barely get back to the car before you jump on him, needing to feel his fingertips digging into your hips while he fucks ever, even if there are still specks of blood on him.

you know you won't get caught. no one would expect the former troubled teen turned happily domesticated man, raising his little sister after his father's death with his faithful girlfriend, to be the one behind the violence.

you see no reason to stop as rafe wipes his knife clean for what feels like the hundredth time.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut

[taintandviolent]

Devil's Favours - James March x Reader

summary & wordcount: 4.9K! originally chosen as the party favour for James' Devil's Night celebration, reader is quickly snatched away by James March, who would rather have his own fun with her than let the others kill her.

w a r n i n g s: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT! dark fic, dub-con, slight non-con, conflicted reader, sexual confusion, mild gore & blood, graphic descriptions, violence, aggression, bodily fluids, mentions of other real serial killers, smut, rough sex,overstimulation, body worship (reader with greek goddess body type), murder, reader death.

a/n: sorry for this, I'm mentally unwell. not beta read, so if it's horrid and clunky, I'm sorry!!! also, I think this is the last taglist I'll be doing, RIP. It's just such a pain in the rear end, and half the time, it doesn't even work.

full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! /

After a long day of travelling, sleep was the only thing on your mind. That said, you were in desperate need of a bath, something relaxing. This was, afterall, a vacation. You twisted the ceramic knob on the hot water, and stuck your hand under it. With a hiss, you withdrew your hand – usually, water took a minute to reach temperature. This one? Scalding hot within a few seconds. Dangerously so. You twisted the knob on the cold side, evening them out until they’d reached a less skin-melting combination, and shed your clothes. You’d only been in there for thirty minutes or so before someone began rapping their knuckles against your door. Persistently. Very persistently.

“Just a minute!” you called from the bathroom, hoping your voice travelled. You reached for one of the towels – meticulously embroidered with the hotel’s logo – and wrapped it hurriedly around your torso. “Hang on!” 

Quickly rummaging around in your suitcase and swearing under your breath that you had packed more, you searched for something to wear. Feeling pressured and running out of time, you settled on a cream coloured silk slip. Hardly modest with your plenteous figure, but the knocking continued and that seemed more important than decency. You hurried to the door, yanking it open with an air of annoyance. The vexation melted away when you were met with a man who looked more like he belonged on a silver screen than he did standing in front of you.

“Good evening.” He said, dipping his head down in a courteous display.

“…Can I help you?”

His lips stayed together, but curved into a subtle smirk. Though it was an unintentional pick; he’d chosen well; your delectable form was as if it was carved by Gods themselves. The look in your eyes told him that you were so alive, so vivacious that any bloodshed that would happen would be akin to art. His eyes were immediately lost on you, exploring your body and face with a fervid fascination. Feeling exposed, you pulled at the silken straps, bringing the neckline of the nightgown higher up on your body. Your cleavage protested, the fabric puckering across the voluminosity of your breasts. 

All this time, he’d been silent, and you arched an expectant brow, wondering just what it was that you were to help him with. This man was… peculiar. From his fancy dressage to the articulate, over-pronounced way he spoke, his idiosyncrasies both alarmed and fascinated you. 

“Indeed,” he affirmed. He’d made his decision; you were the one for the night. And he’d have you, whether you came willingly or not.

“My name is James March — I’m the owner of this impressive hotel in which you now stand.” He paused, expectantly as if that was enough for you to throw your arms up and consent to whatever he was asking. When you didn’t, he added: “I need you to come with me. Urgently.”

You squinted, scanning his motivations. A warm, gentle smile stretched across his lips, framed by his pencil thin mustache. His hand rose, fingers uncurling in front of you. There was something unnervingly come-hither about his gaze. Would he have introduced himself with malicious intentions? Surely not — that could lead to identifying him later on. But he could’ve given you a fake name, perhaps…

Unable to resist his passé seduction and against (likely) better judgement, your hand floated up into his, resting delicately against his palm. His fingers closed around yours, lingering a moment before guiding you out of your room, allowing the heavy door to swing shut behind you. He began leading you briskly down the hallway.

“I forgot my key, wait I –” 

“Worry not, my dear. We’ll have another made for you, should you need it.” 

Should I need it? You thought. Why wouldn’t I need it? Of course I’ll need my key, I’m walking down the hallway in nothing but a nightgown. 

You trodded barefoot down the halls, listening to the sounds as you passed them. The hotel, you noticed, creaked and breathed with a life of its own. Whether the rooms were occupied wasn’t known, but they sounded as if they were.  

As soon as you two got to a door, only a few down from your own, he reached for the handle and instantly, as soon as he did; something felt wrong. Something felt… sinister and the feeling took over like a gelatinous sludge. You tried to yank your hand away but James sternly jerked you the opposite way — back towards him. With a throaty growl, he wrapped both arms around your torso, holding you fast in a steel grip so that try as you might, you couldn’t dislodge yourself from his grasp. His strength proved too much for your feeble, sleepy muscles.

After shouldering the door open, James carried you inside. In a moment of panicked clarity, you tried to peek around and identify anything you could. The stern way that his hand was plastered on your forehead, holding it against his shoulder, you could really only see the ornate ceiling above you.

You took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that burned at the corners of your eyes. This was it. You’d gone this far in life without being mugged, raped, or killed… today was the day it would change. Your track record would end. Abruptly. Terrifyingly. Your chest shuddered with an uneven, hysterical breath. At least he was handsome. No, shut up. That’s not the kind of thought you want to be thinking. 

Suddenly, your body dropped forward and you were spun around harshly, his grip still tight on the fleshy meat of your arms. Then, as though he was a lover and not your soon-to-be-murderer, he eased your back against a wooden chair with one hand, delicately, suddenly concerned with hurting you, like you were some kind of easily-bruised fruit.

“Good girl, sit there.”

At his praising words, your core twinged, tightening. No, no. Stop it. Clenching your teeth, you quashed the thought before it went any further.

His right hand snatched something from a nearby table before holding it proudly, stretching it out for you to see; rope. Unconsciously, your head began shaking back and forth. As the realisation sunk in, your heart rate picked up, thudding against your ribcage.

“N-no, no… no please.”

With the rope still in hand, James got to one knee in a familiar pose. His lightless eyes floated up to yours, staring into them deeply. Now in front of you, his cock twitched within his trousers, a carnal instinct tugging like an incessant child. He brushed the pads of his fingers along the smooth curves of your knees, your calves, your ankles… 

Damn. You – obviously – were a woman with needs, so his feather-light touch awoke something deep within your core again. This time though, it didn’t take you reversing the arousal. The shiny tip of his shoe knocked your feet apart, lining them up with the legs of the chair. She clenched harder.

“What are you doing?” You asked, tensely. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He paused to answer, straightening up. “Securing you, my dear. A struggle is inevitable.”

“What!? Inevitable for what?!”

He didn’t answer. Hastily working, his large but nimble hands wrapped the rope around the smallest part of your ankles, knotting the rope against the chair. Your wrists came next, and those were tied much tighter; the fibres of the rope ground against your soft skin, already causing a burning friction.

With a sudden, powerful pull at the bindings, testing their security, James was finished. He was confident in his knotting, you wouldn’t get away. Humming to himself, he dragged the chair through an archway, into another, much larger room. You were facing a table – it was ornately set with a large contraption in the middle. You recognised it as an absinthe fountain, the bright green liquid in the container seemed to glow. You didn’t want to be a part of whatever this was, even as attractive as that man was.

“Please,” you begged. “Please, I just… I want to go back to my room. Let me go.”

“Let you go?” James echoed in a mockingly high tone. He seemed offended that you’d even desire such a thing. It was a pleasure — a privilege — to be invited to his dinners. “No…. You’re staying with me. Right here.”

He pat your thigh  before moving to the head of the table. For the first time since you’d been brought in, you took a moment to look around, to take in your surroundings instead of him. Immediately, you whimpered in disbelief — met with such a visual that you almost immediately thought you were hallucinating. You blinked away the tears and sniffed, pressing your lips tightly together. 

It was truly bone-chilling to see all of the worst eyes on you. The eyes that had seen the most foul crimes and atrocities in human history were now looking at you; the bound beauty with her sweat-soaked strands of hair stuck to your forehead and fear in your eyes. John Wayne Gacy, Richard Ramirez, Jeffrey Dahmer….

“She’s shakin’ like a god damn leaf!” Aileen Wuornos howled, before finishing off the rest of her beer. She slammed it on the table, the clatter made you jump. She doesn’t want me, you thought. I’m not her enemy. Still, you knew that you’d been sat at a table full of people — true monsters — who even if they didn’t want to kill you, they’d take great pleasure in watching you writhe in agony as the others stole your last breath from your lungs.

Though they were all equally terrifying, you were most horrified by Richard. He sat directly next to James, picking absently at his nails. His sunken, snake eyes followed every move you made; watching you with a hunger that made your skin crawl. Considering the circumstances, it was laughable to say that one made you feel unsafer than the others — but he did. Logically, how he preyed upon women must’ve played into your distaste for him. He held your gaze, peering into your thoughts with a vicious lack of consent, as he behaved with every woman he came in contact with. Finally, he spoke.

“I’ve waited long enough, Jimmy — can we kill her?” He said, sucking something out of his rotting teeth. He made a move as though he was going to get up.

You snapped your head to James, brows knit together in pleading. The visual surprised you. He, like the rest of the dinner party, had been staring at you, but instead of the feral, blood hungry gaze you expected, his eyes had gone glassy. He sucked his cheeks in, deep in thought. Beneath the dark fabric of his dress pants, heat blanketed his groin. You captivated him; the way your precious little eyes flitted back and forth in terror like a deer, the way your pulse thrummed in your neck, beating like a drum. He wanted you for his own — and only his own. Keeping his motives hidden, James stood up, smoothing out the fabric of his suit jacket. 

“No,” he crooned. “No, we can’t. I’m afraid I’ve had a change of heart… this one… belongs to me.”

You jerked your head in confusion, while grumbles of disappointment bounced off the walls. Ramirez said something sickening and Gacy let out a horrible, guttural chuckle. You strained against the rope, somehow trying to put more distance between you and them. James sliced his hand through the air to silence them both.

“Miss Wuornos,” he abruptly purred. “Go find us a dashing young man keen to join our party!”

“Ohohoh…. Lil’ ol’ me? Find a man? I’m gonna’ be frolickin’ in the fuckin’ daisy fields with this one. Be back!”

“Pl-please.” You begged. Your lips parted, allowing desperate promises to fall from between them. You wouldn’t tell anyone, you’d never come back here, you wouldn’t remember anything, you promised, you would never speak a word of this to anyone… You looked to James, who regarded you affectionately, but patronisingly, his lower lip jutted out in a faux-pout. He’d heard all this before, and it was of no concern to him. He’d made up his mind. It was his god damned birthday and he was going to have you all to himself.

Your begging fell on seemingly deaf ears, nobody bothered to entertain you. Your teary, burning eyes flitted to Ramirez, who was smiling his ugly, decaying smile at you, leaning forward in his seat. “I dunno’, she promises, Jimmy… maybe we should let her go.”

You shivered, grinding your wrists against the rope. Anger blanketed you. “Fuck off, weirdo.”

“Who you callin’ weirdo, bitch?”

“YOU!” You barked, straining. “I can smell your rancid breath from here. Had to kill all those women just because none of them would ever come within ten fucking feet of you!”

“Now, now… manners. She’s a lively one, isn’t she?” His mouth bent in a proud smirk, James looked to Richard, who was still bristling from the comment. He really wanted to kill you. Delighted at the fact that James had seemingly given you immunity, you wiggled happily in your chair, fighting the urge to stick your tongue out. You didn’t want to test him, though, and so you remained silent, watching instead. 

Silence was broken as the door opened. With a little thrashing, almost as desperate as your own had been, Aileen shoved a man — couldn’t have been more than 30 — inside. It didn’t take her long to find someone. In fact, it was like she opened the door, spotted him meandering by and dragged him back inside.

The guy noticed you first. Second, he noticed that you were tied to the chair so tightly that red marks on your wrists and ankles had begun to develop. Thirdly, he noticed the others, his eyes drifting slowly and visibly disturbed by who sat at the table. 

“Woah… what the fuck is this?” He asked.

“A good fuckin’ time is what it is.” One of them said. You didn’t care which. Blisteringly hot tears streamed down your face, stinging your cheeks. What were the stages of grief? You felt like you were cycling through them in rapid succession.

“Fucking let me go!” You howled, thrashing your torso back and forth, which did little to relieve anything. With a distressed expression plastered upon his face, the guy looked from you to the other guests and back, before nervously putting his hands up, taking one step back towards the door. “Hey, is she okay?”

“N—!“ James was suddenly behind you, cupping his hand over your mouth, pressing the tips of his fingers hard into your cheek flesh. His lips moved quickly, whispering hotly into your ear. “Hush now, don’t spoil the surprise for him. Let him find out on his own.”

“She’s fine, the hors d’oeuvres didn’t agree with her.” Aileen barked, towing the guy towards the table. She shoved him down into the only unoccupied seat.

“Dinner… is served.” James said. 

In unison, they all stood up. The sound of the chair legs scraping against the floor echoed in your head. Like syncronised swimmers, they all descended upon him, armed with whatever weapon they’d chosen. You hadn’t known the guy, but he had enough sympathy for you to make you cry at what was happening to him. He’d had a life, family… feelings. None of which mattered to him anymore, or perhaps that’s exactly what he was thinking about. Perhaps your entire life really did flash before your eyes before you died. 

You let out a scream that burned on its way out. It ached and tore and ripped its way up your windpipe as the shrill, bloodcurdling sound filled the room. It was louder than his, and louder than the sounds that were currently coming from the gaping, gargling hole in his throat.

Gacy moved from his side, allowing you a brief glimpse. Torn flesh hung from his shoulders and blood had almost completely covered the front of his body. You closed your eyes and turned your head away, rolling your lips inward and biting down. It was fucked up, and you weren't going to absorb any more of it.

“Sweet dreams, my little pet.” James said, in front of you. You turned your head towards the sound, but were met with blackness. 

A dull throbbing on the side of your head was what eventually pulled you awake, forcing your cinder-block weighted lids to peel apart. You looked around; an odd, minimally decorated room. Dark. Your head wobbled as you turned it left, then right, met with the same visual — your arms suspended high above your head, and rope again, at your wrists. You licked your lips and tasted metal. In your blurred vision, you noticed red flecked along your breasts. The ache on the side of your head was more than just an ache, it seemed.

Your consciousness ebbed, fading in and out. Sleep was comforting, the idea of it cradling you in its arms like a baby. You wanted so badly to sleep… just for a moment. Somewhere inside, you heard authoritative voices, advising against sleep. Concussions… sleep… sleep is bad… keep the individual conscious. And so you fought against the cool, towering shadow, turning your head away from nothing in particular. You couldn’t hear anything outside of your own laboured breathing, and the creak of the rope every time you decided to move. Nothing. Not even the muted voices of the monsters. 

Time meant nothing, you lost track of how long you’d been hanging there when you’d finally heard the creak of a heavy door. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly before wrenching them open. You weren’t sure if the crushing weight you felt was the looming weight of death as it shrouded you, or merely the physical strain of your body being suspended for hours. You knew people could eventually die from suspension. Their lungs caved in or something. The tips of your toes barely touched the floor, your big toe grazing the cold, concrete floor every time your body swayed softly.

With your head hanging between your shoulders, your muscles quivered as you lifted it, just in time to see the door in front of you shut. James, standing in front of it, reached for a black leather apron that hung on a hook. Before slipping it over his head, he flashed you a charming smile, pleased to see that you hadn’t expired yet. Reaching behind him to tie it around his waist, he approached you. The light from the wall sconces reflected against the fabric dully.

“Ah, there you are.” He crooned. 

You intended a scream, but could do nothing but whimper. You swallowed repeatedly, a feeble attempt to wet your dried out throat. James drug a single finger along your soft jawline, trailing it down your neck, and along your collarbone. You were drenched in sweat, streaks of it descending your face and neck.

The sudden ferocity in which he gripped your face made it sting, his thumb and forefinger digging into the bone of your jaw. He quirked a brow. You opened your mouth and although your throat was already raw, you finally screamed. You screamed again, angrily, and held his cold, black gaze. Your ragged shrieks filled the room over and over again as you tried, desperately, to wrench your hands free from the ropes.

Regrettable, James thought as his soulless eyes hungrily took in your form as it quivered and thrashed around. You were built like a Greek goddess, soft curves in all the right places, begging to be touched, worshipped.

“Aaaah,” He exhaled, frustratedly.  “You’re almost too pretty to kill.”

“Then — DON’T! Fucking let me GO! AaaarhhhH!” You yanked at the ropes again, thrashing around until a deep pain in your shoulder began to burn. You cried out, letting your body go slack. 

With a deep breath, you mustered up all your strength again, finding every drop of it within your tired body, and leaned forward to scream directly in his face. The result? He was wholly unphased by your screams. If anything, it seemed like he enjoyed them. Each one sounded a little more desperate than the last, and it only fuelled him further.

You decide to try a new, last-ditch tactic. Sore mouth contorting into a scowl, you gathered a mouthful of saliva and blood, hot and irony on your tongue and lunged forward, spitting it at him. The glob hit him square in the face, dripping slowly down towards his jaw.

“What, is it hard to focus?” You croaked. Your words were slurred, messy with the pain of the head wound.  “Didn’t think you’d want to fuck me as bad as you do, huh?”

James’ dark eyes narrowed, the muscles underneath twitching faintly. He had in fact picked you, and therefore had to accept all of your fiery little quips as they came – but that one… that one had caught him off guard. 

“You…” You narrowed your eyes, the fibres of the rope squeaking as you leaned towards him, your lips inches from his face. “…want to fuck me so bad, you can’t think. Look at you. You think your apron hides it?”

With brows raised, James glanced at his groin. Had he really been betrayed by his own body, so early on? Though he felt the warmth and stiffness increasing between his legs, there was no visual indication. James calmly brought his hand to his face, collecting the bloodied spit on his fingertips. With a reticent gaze, he brought them down between your legs, harshly knuckling the nightgown out of the way.

He smeared them roughly on your cunt. Your own fluids. The ones that you had just spit at him. Not only that, but he proceeded to tease your sensitive nerves with his fingers, pulling a confused gasp from your throat. Part of you had been bluffing, you weren’t entirely sure that he had wanted you —

James pulled back an inch to look at you again. Aside from your luscious body, your complexion was mottled with exhaustion, lips dry with fear, hair frazzled and bloody on one side. To him, it was a horrific sculpture of divinity. One that he had created in such little time with such little effort. The perfect, ample curves of your breasts were dotted with crimson, having dripped from the gash on your head. They jiggled delicately with each desolate shake you gave.

With his free hand, he took hold of your round, plush hips, his thumb working the softness like dough. He swung you towards him, pressing the pillowy tops of your thighs to his groin. Quickly, he identified a growing obsession with your body.

He loved it. All of it. In fact, he hadn’t seen a body as marvellously breathtaking as yours since his wife’s. Of course, it had been many years since he’d seen hers in any such manner, so the flames that licked at his desire were deprived, hungry ones. His mouth found yours, lips crushing against yours. His tongue, hot and strong, slipped in and beckoned yours to engage in an erotic dance.

He pulled your body closer, pressing it tightly against his. Though constricted by his trousers, you felt the bulging heat beneath his apron, and rubbed your thigh against it, teasing him. He groaned deeply in response, bucking his hips against you to force friction. After a few moments, James broke the kiss, panting heavily over your tender, swollen lips.

“Pl-please… don’t kill me… please…”

The back of his hand whipped across your mouth, hitting you so hard that the world sparkled when you opened your eyes again. Your face burned with the contact.

“Enough of that now! Say it again, and I’ll do just that!”

The harshness in his voice stunned you. Up until that point, he’d been using his syrupy, serenading voice — the one he had used to charm you into coming with him. Now, he bellowed, an unexpected violence. Silence hung heavy between you as he waited, baited you to beg for life once more. You didn’t speak again, but your sobs continued. 

Finally, his hand dropped between your legs again. Your clit ached, burned with the way his fingers fondled it, but he didn’t stop. Your poor, exhausted body trembled beneath his touch, doing all it could to express arousal. Salty droplets streamed from your hairline into your eyes, stinging as they absorbed.

“Would you rather die?” he asked, suddenly. 

“Wh-what? N-no… I d-don’t want to die…”

“That’s not what I meant, my little ember. I meant… would you rather die than be pleasured? I, of course, can arrange that.”  

You hesitated a moment, but finally, shook your head. 

At this thoughtful confession, James angled forward, plunging a single finger inside of you, past the knuckle. The digit wiggled inside of you briefly, before sliding back out slowly. He held it up for you both to see. “Oh,” he growled.  

His finger was generously coated in clear slick. Your body had betrayed you. 

Wordlessly, he untied the apron, tossing it carelessly to the side – it hit the floor with a heavy flop. Then, those same nimble fingers began unbuttoning and unzipping, until they gripped his rigidness, pumping it slowly for further stimulation. His chest heaved with wanton, desiring breaths as he stared at you, hanging there, with your warm, ample body for his taking. James lined his dick up with your leaking slit, and pulled you harshly onto his cock, showing no mercy for how exhausted your body was. 

Your cunt swallowed his cock whole, hungrily and desperately. His head fell back between his shoulders, a throaty groan coming from his open mouth. He began thrusting, slow at first. The ease of thrusting fascinated him; your body hung limp on the ropes and all James had to do was tug you forward, tug you in the direction he wanted you to go. 

“You know, I’ve never taken a woman like this before - suspended in the air,” he said, breathily. “Exquisite.” 

You mewled in response, snot dripping from your nose. 

Soon, the room was filled with wet, slick thrusting and the thudding sound of his torso as it met yours. You came repeatedly, coating his thick, pale cock in fluids you didn’t even know your body could make. At one point, during a particularly vicious thrusting, a warm, watery liquid splashed down over your thighs. You screamed like he was killing you, though he felt better than any man you’d ever been with, pleasuring you in ways that left you feeling breathless.

Still, your body persisted with its aches. So far, you’d been successful in appealing to his sexual nature, and decided to try again.

“….please…. Let me down… I’ll… d-do anything you wa—

Suddenly, he backed up, pulling the head from your cunt with a slick pop. You panted; fragile, pitiful breaths, barely enough energy to lift your gaze. With his rigid cock bouncing in front of him, James untied your hands, allowing your heavy, enervated body to fall into his arms. You couldn’t help but cry into his shoulder as he carried you to some sort of surface, laying you carefully down atop it. Some streak of mercy had captured him, and you mouthed words of gratitude. Your entire body buzzed with relief, your muscles aching in a funny, tingling way.

James wasted no time in fucking you again; the tip was nearly scarlet, hungry for release. His hand compressed on your soft stomach, pressing down into it to increase the pressure of his cock as it drove deeper and deeper inside of you.

“You know how this ends, my dear.” When he spoke, it sounded far away. But you did. You knew. There was never any end to this besides the one that you’d envisioned fearfully. He leaned to the side, retrieving a small, but very, very sharp blade from a nearby metal table. You watched numbly as James lifted the knife above your neck.

His hips pumped rhythmically, bringing you both closer to the fiery edge of ecstasy. Pulsing veins massaging your silklike insides, and another orgasm galloped towards you. Your body quivered, cold sweats taking over. 

James whipped the knife across your perfectly warm neck, and instinctively, your hands went to the laceration. Bright crimson gushed out from the spaces between your fingers, and you felt a gushy warmth press against your digits. The inner workings of your throat, you realized. The gore of your own body, pressing back against you in its heat. James laid one hand over yours, seemingly just to feel the blood as it spurted. With a deep, guttural moan, his cock twitched inside you just before it released, coating your insides.

She gasped, a wet gurgle. The light left her eyes, gradually, but beautifully. The pulses of blood eventually ebbed to a dull trickle. As his thrusts slowed, he expelled a long sigh – killing both excited him and depressed him. On one hand; it brought exhilaration, delight and sheer unadulterated arousal. On the other however, you only truly got to do it once. Certainly, you could kill a ghost a million times over, but the effect wasn’t the same.

For a moment, James’ expression contorted into one of regret; when you returned in your new spectral form, you’d likely not want to spend time with him. Yet another woman who loathed his presence roaming the hallways, avoiding him. But perhaps, he still wouldn’t mind having you stuck with him for all eternity, if only to gaze upon your perfect form whenever you’d let him. With matching wounds, at that. A true romantic.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @babygorewhore / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @slvt4jamesmarch / @poltoreveur / @feefymo / @evpeters87 / @lacucarachapisser / @stveharringtn / @fear-is-truth

[phoward89]

Banner by me, dividers by @saradika-graphics

Based on this ask

Young!President!Coriolanus Snow x Innocent!Reader

Coriolanus Snow was the youngest president in Panem’s history. He was cunning, charming, and very, very smart. Which is why he's the youngest man to hold the presidential office.

But that's not truly the reason why he's President Snow at the tender age of 25.

No….

He's the youngest president because he's a ruthless man. An evil man.

A snake that strikes both friend and foe with poison.

Nobody was safe from Coriolanus’ poisonous fangs.

Well, nobody, except his First Lady.

And you just happened to be First Lady Snow. The president's sweet, innocent wife who never saw his true colors.

Coriolanus, who you often called Coryo and even Snowflake (he'll kill anyone if they giggle, laugh, or snigger if in ear shot of you using the term of endearment for him), made sure that you viewed him as a loving gentleman. He never wanted you to see the cruel side of him.

You met him when you were both kids, before he became tainted and corrupted by the harsh cruelness of the world. You never experienced the cruelness of the world, being a bit sheltered by your family.

You were innocent, like a little dove.

And that's what drew Coriolanus to you. Your innocence enthralled him, memorized him even.

He made it his mission to keep all the horrors of the world away from you, to keep you innocent and naive.

Hell, you truly believed that he helped Lucy Grey win during his mentorship because he cared. You had no idea that he was thinking with his wrong head; wanted to get under her skirts.

You didn't know that he was sentenced to 20 years as a peacekeeper for his crime of cheating during the 10th Hunger Games. You truly believed his bullshit lie of wanting to follow in his father's footsteps (his father, Crassus Snow had been a general).

So, sweet, innocent, naive little you always believed what your Coryo told you. He was your perfect gentleman, your Snowflake, and you had no reason not to trust him.

President Snow, for all his faults and evil deeds, loved you with every fiber of his overly obsessive being. It's why he's done everything in his power to keep you from being corrupted by the world.

It's also why he had, nicely, forbid you from entering his office. Coriolanus gave you the excuse that he didn't want to be distracted from his duties of ruling over Panem, but in reality he couldn't risk you walking in on him while he had business meetings.

Some of which almost always ended with his visitor slumped over a teacup.

Dead.

Today tho, well, you didn't heed his warning and decided to visit him in his office instead of waiting for him to return to the living quarters.

You found out very exciting news and wanted to share it with him right away.

You put on a pretty pink dress, pulled your hair half back into a large bow (the way he preferred it), and picked some roses from the prized rose garden for the special announcement.

You happily made your way down the hall towards his office. His staff ignored you, knowing better to even look at you twice.

The staff wanted to live to see the next Yule season, thank you very much.

When you opened the door, you saw that your husband had a guest in his office. The man, who was stout with black hair; wearing a powder blue suit, was slumped over on your husband's desk.

President Snow wiped at the corner of his mouth with his handkerchief (his beloved one that you made special for him, embroidered with a light blue snowflake and his initials in maroon red thread) his icy blue eyes flickering up to the door to see who had walked in. He gave his staff specific orders not to be disturbed. He was ready to chew out whoever had walked it, but any and all retorts he had in the tip of his tongue had died when he saw you.

His precious, innocent, little dove.

Before he could ask what’s wrong (he knew something was wrong because you knew his office was off limits and wouldn't just walk in unless it was an emergency), you pointed to the man slumped over the desk and asked, “Coryo, is he passed out?”

“Oh, my little dove, don't worry about him. He just can't handle his liquor.” Coryo told you, even though the glasses on the desk were teacups and not rocks glasses typically used for liquor.

But of course, you believed your husband. He has no need to lie to you, has he?

Coriolanus stood up from his desk, only to walk over to you. “You know you're not allowed in here while I'm working, Y/N.” He reminded you as he stopped right in front of you. Your husband towers over you, taking in how you were all dolled up and had a bouquet of roses in hand. Arching a brow, he asked, “Is something the matter?”

“Oh, Snowflake, I know I'm not supposed to bother you while you're doing your presidential work, but I was so excited to tell you something.” You honestly told him, a bright smile on your face, as you handed him the roses.

“I'm usually the one who presents you with roses, my love.” Coriolanus chuckled, only to take the offered bouquet. “What's this exciting news that couldn't wait?” He asked, placing his large, calloused hand on your cheek only to caress your cheekbone with his thumb.

“I'm pregnant!” You joyfully smiled up at him.

“That's wonderful news, my little dove.” Your Coryo cooed, pressing a kiss to your lips. He grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together, and suggested, “Let's go celebrate this happy news with lunch in the sunroom.”

“Okay, but what about your guest? Shouldn't we wake him up?” You innocently asked, gesturing to the man lying dead on your husband's mahogany desk.

“I'll have one of the staff tend to him, Y/N.” Your husband assured you while leading you out of his office.

Little did you know what he really meant by that. But why would you, your husband's only ever showed you a soft, loving, gentleman. He's never shown you his true nature of being an evil, cruel, manipulative, murderous man.

Coriolanus is a snake, but to you he's Coryo, your Snowflake.

And he'll always be that to you since you'll forever be his sweet, innocent, little dove of a wife.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere ,@savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi, @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503, @shari-berri, @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1

[buckypinetrees]

Warm

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Summary: You and Bucky are forced to go on a team bonding getaway together. Tensions rise.

Warnings: 18+ Minors Do Not Interact, enemies-to-lovers, boob play, oral (Fem receiving)

A/N: First fanfic I've written in years and the first time I've ever written for Bucky. Feedback is very much appreciated in the comments.

Part 2

You had run out of places to run. You had run further into the woods than you intended. You had been trained for this, you reminded yourself. Taking a deep breath, you scanned the area around you. The knotted mess of trees and plants surrounding you struck no chords of familiarity in your bones. You were lost.

“You lost, doll?” you heard a voice sneer. The voice of the man you were stuck with out here in the middle of nowhere for a “training session” Bucky Barnes. 

“I’m fine,” you mustered as much anger and spite into your voice as you could manage. 

“I could show you the way back.” The stupid smirk that pervaded your dreams gleamed. 

            You pushed forward avoiding talking to him further. You heard him try to continue the banter, but your mind was elsewhere. Stuck on the fact that you had to spend an insufferable week here with him in the name of team bonding. You understood why Steve had made the decision. The last fight between you and Bucky had ended in the drywall of the training room being completely turned to bits. But there had to have been other ways. Surely, they could have sent you guys on different missions, planning out your schedule so your presences never had the chance to grace each other. But no, here you were with the man who had made your entire time at the compound a living hell.

Finally coming out of your thoughts you examined the area surrounding you. The woods thickened and the whisper of birds sang above you. Peaceful. That was what this was. Maybe the first semblance of peace you encountered since yesterday when you were jetted here against your will. Your pleas for anything different fall on deaf ears. Steve had said it would be good for you. 

You had sat in the clearing for what seemed like hours. The sun had started to set in the distance and the birds stopped chirping. The temperature had fallen what seemed like 20 degrees in an hour and you realized you didn’t have much time to get back to the cabin before you froze to death. Maybe death would be sweeter than the taunting and humiliation you would face if you had returned there. Before you left you told Bucky that you would rather die than spend a night in the cabin with him. Returning now would make it seem like you were weak, and you couldn’t stand the smug look that would be on his face when you returned. 

“Still lost, little dove?” his voice rang in your ears.

“Don’t call me that” you bit back the urge to scream at him. He had been using these pet names against you from the moment you arrived. Seeing you as nothing but an average civilian. 

“It’s getting cold out, and I’m not going to let your stubbornness get you killed,” Bucky admitted. You answered with a vulgar gesture. “Okay, have it your way, I’m returning to the cabin. You can follow me back or you can freeze.” 

You heard Bucky’s footsteps soften as he started walking away. You rose, knees aching as you stretched them for the first time in hours. Trying to be as quiet and discrete as possible you followed his trail back to the cabin. It took you a while, not to realize how deep you had truly ventured into the woods. Watching him through the window you readied yourself for his snide remarks. You could handle this. You rarely lost your temper in other situations but with Bucky, there was just something truly infuriating about him. 

Walking through the door, the smell of the stove pervaded your senses. He had made dinner, probably just for himself. The conditions of this little “getaway” were simple. The cabin was made available for you two to shelter in but everything other than that you would have to fend for yourself. So, no food, unless you hunted, no clean water unless you searched for it, and no heat unless you cut the wood yourself. You thought back to how stupid you had been. Instead of spending the first day here using your efforts to find any of these things, you threw a tantrum. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you smelled the aroma of food sizzling on the stove. 

“Hungry, doll?” He sneered as if reading your mind. “Too bad you were lost in the woods the entire day. I only had enough time to find a meal for myself.” His eyes found yours as he hit his mark with his ravenous words. 

“I said earlier, I am fine. I don’t need your help here. I’m on the team for a reason. I can survive the week just fine” not daring to give him the dignity of seeing you fail. You made your way towards the shower. You heard him chuckle behind you. You locked yourself inside the bathroom, trying to steady yourself. You hated the smug expression on his face. He would be truly handsome if he didn’t have such a bitter interior. Being this close to him made you want to rip his throat out. This was going to be a long week. 

            You emerged from the shower, dressed in your night clothes. The only luxury you and Bucky were afforded was packing your clothes for the week. Bucky was spread out on the couch, a grin spread across his lips. 

            “Oh, just so you know, I didn’t get any wood for the fire. I don’t need it seeing my enhancements and all, but you might get cold. Should’ve thought about it before you acted like a toddler earlier” his grin never ceased as he eyed you up and down. His gaze always felt dirty on your skin. He would never see you as part of the team. To him, you were just a stray they found and had the kindness to take in. 

            You didn’t deign to respond to his mockery. The less you had to talk to Barnes the better. You simply shuffled past him to reach the bedroom. An old shaggy duvet sat aloft a bed that looked like it hadn’t been used in decades, but it would do. You wrapped yourself as tightly in the blanket as possible already feeling the chill seeping into your bones, both from the cold and your lack of nutrition. You ignored it, wishing you could also ignore the whistles and hums coming from the living room. He was loving this. Your misery was delicious to him. He was drinking it in. You tried to turn off the thoughts running through your head and slept.

            You had awoken in the middle of the night shivering. The cold is too impertinent now to ignore. On top of that, you were hungry. You hadn’t eaten since you guys had started the flight here, almost 24 hours ago. Tossing and turning, you had tried to stay in bed for as long as possible. Finally rising you made your way to the bathroom. It was a smaller room. Maybe it kept heat trapped in better. As you walked out of the bedroom, Bucky rose to sit up on the couch. 

            “What are you doing up?” His voice was husky with sleep. Any other man with this voice would make your toes curl and you would be completely pliant in his hands. 

            “I had to go to the bathroom.” You whispered out meekly.

            “Sure, little dove, it’s not because your cold right?” You shook your head, not daring to talk again in case your teeth chattered. “You see,” Bucky continued, “with my enhancements, I could hear your little body shivering in that bed. The sound of your chattering teeth started to sound like white noise. You know I could help you if you just admit that you acted like a brat this morning.” 

            You scoffed at him. Why would you not act the way you had when forced to go on this little retreat with him? And what did he mean by helping you? You had had enough of him. 

            “I don’t need your help, Barnes. You’re an ass!” Your tone rises as you spit the words at him.

            “You say one thing and yet your body betrays you every time. Look how hard you’re trying not to shiver. C’mon, just admit it. You acted like a spoiled little brat today and you need me to fix your mistakes.” His eyes never left your frame as he examined the way your body continued to shake from the cold. 

            “No.”

            “Okay then freeze, but then you’re going to be weaker tomorrow because you didn’t get any sleep and then I’ll have to spend all day caring for your ass because Steve made me promise that I wouldn’t let you die out here” he grunted out. “So, either let me take care of you now, or deal with it tomorrow. It’s your choice little dove.”

You wanted to scream at him, fight him, anything to wipe the smug grin that sat on his face like a permanent fixture when you were in his presence. You felt the heat radiating off him. He didn’t even need a blanket to keep warm. Your words betrayed your mind as you muttered out a “fine.” He rose from his spot on the couch moving closer to you. That ever-present smirk waltzing towards you.

“I’d offer you a spot on the couch, but it might be a little small for the two of us. Shall we move this to the bedroom?” His eyes raked over your figure as he stepped closer. Just being this close to him was already starting to warm you up. Not to mention the heat that flooded your cheeks at the word he spoke. 

He grinned as he gripped your hand. “Hmm, you are freezing.” A brief glimpse of concern showed on his face. “Don’t worry we’ll get you all warmed up doll.”

You followed him into the bedroom, assessing how you would get him back tomorrow for making you feel so weak. Climbing onto the bed you felt him wrap his body around you. A weird foreign feeling to be seeking out comfort from what you considered your sworn enemy. But he was so warm, and his hands felt so gentle as he traced lazy shapes onto your chill-bitten skin. Your head instantly went empty as you savored the way his body pressed against your backside. He truly was beautiful with his dark locks and his cerulean blue eyes. The cold must’ve affected you worse than you thought if you were thinking such sweet things about Bucky. 

            While you were lost in thought you had continued to shift ever so slightly against him. His hand stopped instantly steadying you.

            “Stop moving” he managed to growl out with a hint of something different in his voice. Unconcerned you continued to shift as you tried to get comfortable and that’s when you felt it.

            “B…Bucky” you managed to squeak out now aware of his current situation. His hands felt too hot suddenly. Your body temperature rises way too high as the flush spread from your cheeks to your chest. You thanked God as you realized it was too dark for him to notice the blush spreading throughout his body. You shifted so that your backside was no longer pressed against him. Your body fully turned to him now. 

            “I think I’m warm enough now Bucky,” your voice was barely a whisper.

            “You know what I think…” Bucky paused assessing the words he was about to say, “I think you’re a brat who makes it so damn hard for me to think about anything but this when you’re in the room.” He punctuated the sentence by gripping your ass in his hands hard, earning a moan out of you. 

            “Bucky,” you moaned out brokenly, too high off adrenaline to push him away or pull him closer. 

            “And do you know what I think you truly need? To be taught to mind your manners,” His voice dripped with lust as he moved his lips to your neck barely ghosting them over your pulse point. 

            You were a mess against him. You felt the dampness in your panties and your blood pound beneath your skin. Every sense was going haywire as you felt his hands roam your body. He took his time grabbing at every inch of your skin through your clothes. 

            “Please” you choked out. “Please touch me.”

            “Aww…She does have manners,” He responded mockingly. “But I am touching you, maybe I need to teach your patience as well.” His hands gripped harder into your sides as he positioned you beneath him. 

            Just as you opened your mouth to protest his teeth sank into the sweet spot on your neck. Arching your back trying to feel more of him, you whined against him. His metal arm came to rest against your hips keeping them in place as he slithered from you. He opened the blinds, so moonlight flooded into the bedroom. 

            “I want to see my meal before I eat it,” he smirked from his position by the window. The moonlight streaming showed how blown his pupils were, and if you had a mirror, you would assume yours would be the same. He moved ever so slowly towards you, the grin of a predator on his lips. His hands came to rest on the edge of your shirt.

            “I’ve wondered how pliant you would be underneath me. How easily you would listen to every word I say” his hands began making quick work of your shirt exposing your bare breast to him. Your body shines blue underneath the moonlight.

            “Beautiful,” he murmured more to himself than to you, but your body still keened at the praise. His hands explored the newly visible skin. You felt his warm tongue start to explore your right breast, giving little sucks and bites as he avoided your nipple. His metal hand doing the same motions on your left side. 

            “Bucky, please…” Your whines and groans were pathetic as you urged him to touch your most sensitive spots. Something about your feeble attempts at persuading him must’ve stirred something in him because he began to attack your breast with a new fervor. Your moans became even louder as he sucked and nipped at your budding nipples. His metal hand left your breast and steadied himself. His human one makes quick work to slide into your underwear. 

            “Someone’s so needy,” he tsked against your skin. His fingers explored the wetness found there. It was too much. Your head felt heavy and light at the same time. All sense of morality floated out of your head as you reached for his shirt. “Please” became your mantra as he continued to rile up your already supple body. You were pleading for this man you had run from earlier to hurry up and fuck you. 

            He removed his shirt and your underwear, and you sighed thinking you had finally gotten to the part where he slides into you. Bucky had other ideas as he pulled your cunt closer to his face. He let out an exploratory lick that had your body pressing against him further. He found a motion that you liked as he let himself feast. Your moans bounced off the wall fueling him further. He began to devour you.

            “You taste so sweet” The vibration made your body bend further into him. Seeing this as a pleasant sign he sweeps his finger against your aching hole, watching as your eyes widen in anticipation. He slides it in, and you finally submit to him fully. Knowing that this man could do anything he wanted to you, and you would willingly take it. 

            He ate you like he needed you to orgasm. Like it was the sole purpose, he was placed onto this Earth. Your head began spinning. The heat begins building up deep in your core. You clenched around his skilled fingers and felt yourself tumble off the ledge letting out a string of words all broken and all ending in Bucky’s name. Your body shook as he continued through your orgasm until you were spent. 

            Doe eyes met Bucky’s gaze as you finally regained some sense. You reached for him, hands grazing his bare chest as you came down. Bucky simply separated himself from you, moving towards the doorway. 

            “Hope you’re warm now, little dove.” His smirk returned to his face as he left you and returned to the couch.

[gavisuntiedboot]

We Can't Be Friends (but I'd like to just pretend)

Pedri x Stylist! Reader

Part 2

Warnings: None

Word count: 4.3K

A/N: Back with part 2! I'm warning y'all now - it's going to suck until it doesn't. Please bear with me. Also, I have included the links to both the shirts being sold for Gaza and the direct donation link. Please check them out! And if you can't donate yourself, I donate $1 for every watermelon comment under this post! So please make sure to share at the very least.

~~~

Being scolded was the worst feeling in the world. Well, actually, sleeping with a famous client and then having him immediately chase your coworker was the worst feeling in the world. But boy was this meeting with Katerina a close second.

“There needs to be a case study on this kid.” She muttered under hear breath as she moved sticky notes around the December calendar. She darted her eyes around her current configuration, before turning sour and looking up at you. The dark circles under her eyes had darkened a shade since you had seen her the previous week, and a twinge of guilt played against your sternum for contributing to her fatigue.

“Let’s go over some basic rules, my dear. First and foremost, you cannot block your client’s number.”

“But I-“ You began to protest, but your boss lifted one finger, silencing you instantly.

“I do not care. I do not care if he is a dick. I do not care if he is going to make my stylists kill each other. Honestly, that might be a blessing.  I do not care if he is the father to a litter of bastard children running barefoot around your home. You work for SDF. You work for Pedro Gonzalez. He will have access to your phone, your email, your address, hell your underwear size if he asks. Understood?”

You bit back the urge to protest, just nodding silently. She breathed in deeply before continuing.

“Second, you will not share his information with the other girls in the office. That includes his photoshoot timing, the PR being sent to him– anything. I’m tired of having to file reports to Milan about my girls fighting.”

The command was followed by another nod, this one more genuine. You had no intention of getting within 100 meters of either Tania or Sylvia, who were still not speaking but had also telepathically decided that you were a common enemy. You had been stepped on a suspicious number of times while collecting their pins from the floor, and you always caught them whispering to the other girls in the office about “la naranja podrida”. Didn’t take a detective to put those pieces together.

You were still in a state of agitation regarding the whole ordeal. In your fit of anger, you had done the mental calculations of how long it took Pedri to text another girl. He had left just as the sun was rising, so about 5:30 am. Google maps said you lived 25 minutes from the stadium, but he would have gone home first, because that’s where the damned boots and more damned note would have been. That brings us to 6 am to account for wherever the gremlin lives. By all your most optimistic estimates, he had waited at most a hour between leaving your bed and texting your coworker.

“Hey Silvia” was the text heard around the world. After the report (and a few hair samples) was filed away, a company-wide letter from HQ was sent out reminding employees of professional boundaries with clients. The giddiness and satisfaction that had come from a harmless prank had dissolved, leaving a queasy feeling in its wake. Day damn one. You lasted 4 hours before you crumpled like a convenience store receipt over a boy at work. Ignoring every caution sign, you dove head first into a pool of prospective romance - and promptly hit the concrete.

The worst part was that you couldn’t tell anyone. Bryce had responded to your gushing sonnets in the worst possible manner: with logic. You had brushed aside every one of her very appropriate questions, looking through your rose-tinted lenses at your life. You had gone as far as to tell her she was being a bad friend for trying to find any possible negative in this situation, causing her to pull back.

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all.”

The words of her static-garbled voice memo never left your head. There you were, only a few hours later, stomach turned and heart shredded, completely and utterly hurt. And you weren’t ready to face the sting of “I told you so” that was waiting for you, so you just… never said anything else. When she asked about Pedri, you responded formally with his upcoming campaign schedule. Lucky for you that she was too busy with her own life to keep pestering.

The upside to the current tragedy in your life was that you were working in fashion. It was hard to cry when you spent hours upon hours looking at some of the most beautiful clothes in the world, getting full creative freedom to bring your visions to life. Not impossible, because there were definitely a couple of wet spots on the Margiela from yesterday, but harder. Barca Femini had been in and out of the office for fittings, and it was a relief to be able to work with something other than khaki trousers and blazers. There were seemingly hundreds of hangers carrying vintage sports pieces, colorful jackets, and silky skirts. It sparked little moments of happiness, knowing that you were so good at playing dress-up that now you were getting paid for it.

It had been a week since your unfortunate altercation, and though the evening (and unfortunate following morning) had never left you, it had seeped from the front of your mind to the base of your skull, a dull throb that could be ignored during the course of the day. That was, of course, until you received an email from Adidas.

~

"Okay, Pedri, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but this means you're blocked."

There was a snigger that floated through the lunch room that, had he been able to pinpoint the source, Pedri would have promptly quieted with a slap to the head. But it whizzed around like a gnat between some of the younger players.

"How could I be blocked, Fermin?" The question was met with a raised eyebrow from Fermin, who was mentally cursing his college education.

"Maybe it has something to do with you sleeping with her and then disappearing?" Gavi offered up that brilliant hypothesis between bites of grilled chicken.

"No, it couldn't be. She's American - they don't take sex so seriously. Besides, we just met! What was I supposed to do? Propose?"

Pedri resisted the urge to shrink back from the judgmental stares he was receiving. He was used to being questioned by Gavi, who believed in the "stare at her intensely until she falls for me and confesses" method of romance. But now that he had roped in Fermin (the most tech-savvy of the squad), he couldn't handle the intensity of the silent disapproval.

In all honesty, Pedri was tired of the emotional rollercoaster that had plagued the entire day. The previous night had been incredible. He wasn't quite sure what to expect when La Naranja stepped through her front door, but she surely exceeded expectations. Pedri believed he was happy in his normal routine: DM an Instagram model, engage in the little cat-and-mouse game where she pretended she wouldn't bend to his every will, and go back to her place for a decently fun time. But there was something about the way you walked, so coy and bashfully, looking up at him through delicate lashes with wide eyes, that warmed the most primal part of his being. His heart quickened at the sudden desire to chase, to capture, to consume. He wanted to protect this pretty little thing from the sharp eyes and sharper teeth of his friends. He was ready to savor everything you offered.

Over the course of the evening, the feeling gnawing at the inside of his chest became harder to ignore. The soft grip you maintained on his bicep to keep him close, the warmth of your fingertips searing his skin. He wanted to bark at Ferran to never look your way again. To sink his teeth into your neck, have you cry out his name so every man would know to never come near you again. Your hand, so delicate and soft in his own, maintained a firm grip as he dragged you out of the club, and a firmer grip on his hair once he was finally able to kiss you senseless. He felt like a wild animal unleashed in bed with, unable to slow or take pause. You were so hypnotizingly innocent, and he was going to destroy that.

The warmth in his chest remained till the following morning. As he kissed your cheek and whispered his goodbyes, he allowed himself to imagine what kind of arrangement the two of you could have. He was more than eager to feel the caress of your soft lips again. Maybe you would be open to picking up his late night calls, spending long, tedious days together talking and fucking and laughing at nothing in particular. He thought about the flush in your cheeks that would arise whenever he came into work, dropping subtle hints about your activities in the days before. He could really make you a permanent part of his rotation with little difficulty, facilitated further by the fact that you had been assigned as his personal stylist. Filthy as it may sound, he contemplated not showering upon his return home. He would have to later in the day following practice, but until he could secure a second audience with you in a bedroom, he wanted to savor the scent a little longer.

His front doorstep was littered with packages once again, about half from Adidas and the other from Springfield. He was not a designer by any means, but he appreciated that he was at least sent the collections that were meant to be his. Fer was sipping on a coffee when Pedri walked in, and expertly avoided ay questions of where he had been the previous night. He was a concerned older brother, but he was also a guest. He instead asked to see the piles of PR that his younger brother had hauled through the door.

"I don't understand why they bother sending you all this stuff. Why wouldn't they just send it to the styling team."

"Because I actually have to play in the boots, hermano." Pedri said, lifting the lid off his newest pair. He was excited for another Adidas campaign, or any campaign really that would bring him closer to you once again. Oh how he wished he could have captured the way you looked in that dress forever, immortalized it in an oil painting and hung it on his wall (right beside the ripped remains of the dress, which he so desperately wanted to destroy). His daydream had been broken by a crisp white envelope contrasted against the bright orange of the boots. There was a feminine wave of scent in the air, and the heart pumping in his ears drowned out the sounds of his brother’s whistles and taunts. Had you done this? Had you been planning ahead to send him a note had he neglected to ask you out while at the office?

He tensed his forearms to disguise a slight tremble, ripping open the envelope and scanning the page only to find-

“Ay dios mío. Silvia.” He allowed his head to thud against the counter, Fer’s tittering laugh clear as a bell now.

“Is she the scary one or the weird one?” His brother asked, prying the crumpled letter from Pedri’s dejected form.

“Both are fitting adjectives. She’s the shorter one with the silver hair. She kind of looks like our Tia Marisol?”

Another tittering of laugher, and this time Pedri joined in with a cracked smile of his own.

“She wants to tell you how much she admires you, how much you make her … quiver? Ew.” Fer squinted at the note further.

“Listen to this line. Ehem: ‘I am ready to serve you, worship you, give you my body and soul because I love you.”

Pedri groaned so loudly he was sure the neighbors heard. Honestly, what were these girls thinking?? That he would start blushing and giggling at the mention that they would sleep with him? That was the least most girls would do. It turned his stomach, constantly fearing that he would be trapped with a child.

“Let me text this girl. I have to go in next week and I don’t want her bent over a table spread and waiting when I arrive.”

He typed in the number on the note, drafting a long text before deleting everything but the “Hey Silvia” at the top.

“It’s too forceful to say ‘hey I don’t want to fuck you’ right off the bat, no?”

He hit send, reluctantly heading off to shower away his escapades before he went into training, waiting for a reply before he asked not to receive any more erotic letters from his stylists. Oh how he wished she hadn’t.

~

“So run us through it one more time.” Gavi said, Ferran deciding to stifle his groan. The last thing he needed was to enrage Gavi further, as he suspected it would result in him finally getting the punch that was coming to him. Ansu and Fermin were nodding along vigorously, eager to hear all about Pedri’s first experience having feelings.

“We went out, we fucked-“

“Pedri!”

He rolled his eyes at the indignation from the boys. Kids these days.

“Okay. We went out, we had a magical lovemaking experience, and then I had to come to training. I texted her about her being my stylist to ya know break the ice. And I found myself in deep shit and promptly blocked on like everything.”

“I think your first mistake,” said Fermin, “was not texting her about last night. Why would you start with her working for you?"

Pedri dragged his hand down his face in frustration.

"What was I supposed to say? Good morning linda, great pussy last night?"

Gavi stood promptly with his hands up, leaving the room.

"I don't want to hear about another girl's vagina."

"Yes," Ferran muttered, "God forbid he cheat on his crush by listening to a story."

"Whatever happened to 'Hey, I had fun last night'? Is that not a normal thing to say?" Ansu asked, as shaken as Gavi but remaining planted by his desire to be in the loop.

"I think my agent is texting SDF to get her to unblock me. Not super easy to talk to my stylist if I have to do so through messenger pigeon. Where did Gavi go?"

Pedri followed his friend out of the locker room, watching as Gavi stared dejectedly at the Doctora’s office.

“Are you done moping?” Pedri asked, clapping him on the shoulder.

“No. She might lose her job and we play her stupid boyfriend’s team tomorrow. I just want to keep her safe from that asshole.”

For a minute, something sparked in Pedri’s chest. Was that jealousy? He had never before felt that there was something missing in his life, content with being surrounded by friends and family and teammates. But there was something about watching Gavi pine, listening to the way he spoke of this girl, and it caused him an ache. He was in awe of this foreign spectacle: loving someone so deeply, so intensely, that it led to begging for crumbs of their time and attention. He almost wished to be in the Doctora's position, always having someone waiting around the corner for him.

"I have a styling meeting today. Do you want to come and keep me company?"

~

"Naranja, the bastard is here."

You didn't even lift your head when Maria informed you of the arrival of your client. You had worn all black to mourn the death of your self esteem, prepared to ass-kiss as much as needed to preserve your job. Unfortunately, it was difficult to push down the burning rage in the pit of your stomach when you had to kiss the ass of the man who has hurt you so intensely.

Pedri strolled into the room clad in the ugliest jeans known to man, his doe-eyed teammate (Gavin?) trailing behind him. At least the littler one knew how to dress. He was in baggy jeans and an Amie Paris t-shirt, clean sneakers in the same shade of blue as his top. Pedri, on the other hand, was an abomination. His black hoodie was far too baggy on his frame, making him look somewhat inflated. It was made worse by the tight and ribbed denim hugging the (admittedly stunning) legs that ended suddenly in some chunky clompers.

"Good morning, Naranja."

God. Even the sound of his voice was like swallowing razor blades. You wished that you could hear the lilt in his speech without remembering the soft whispers against the column of your throat, guiding you to ecstasy at his command. The way that he encouraged you, coaxed the gentle sighs and high moans with just an ask.

"Let me hear you, pretty girl."

And who were you to deny? But now, looking at his soft eyes and confident stance, you wish you had resisted. Pretended you didn't speak Spanish that first godforsaken day in this office.

"Good morning Pedro."

A stifled laugh and wide eyes from the boy behind Pedri (God what was his name? Gustavo?). Pedri's shoulders had dropped significantly, his thick brows coming together in confusion.

"No one calls me Pedro. Not even my mother."

"Well, maybe it's a good time for you to learn what disappointment feels like. Especially since you're so comfortable giving it out to others. Do you have your boots?"

You could tell Pedri was lost for words, and it caused you a mild spark of satisfaction. You had spent the last week boiling silently, unable to unleash all the rage simmering in your chest. He nodded silently, pulling the box out of his bag.

"Great. Gabriel, there is a coffee shop on the second floor if you want to grab a drink while I'm fitting Pedro. I'm sure you've seen him naked plenty of times but-"

"No, no, I'll go. Would you like anything?"

After shaking your head, he exited the room, and you began frantically grabbing different sweat pants and shirts for Pedri to put on.

"His name is Gavi by the way." Pedri said to break the silence, and you turned so he could strip off his shirt.

"Come on, Naranja. Don't pretend you haven't see it already." He smiled somewhat earnestly, softer than he did at the other girls. You were a gentle thing, and he wanted to be gentle with you.

"How many other girls in this office have seen it as well, Pedro?" You asked with as much venom as you could muster, turning to face him and eyes locking as he unzipped his jeans.

"You think that sleeping with me is a company welcome gift, Naranja?"

"That's not my name."

"And Pedro isn't mine. But if you want to poke at me, I'll poke at you right back."

He was now in only his boxers and his socks, and it took everything within you not to glance downwards, a reminder of the sight from one week and one night ago. He took a defiant step forward, the heat radiating off his body.

"You know, Pedro," You began, steadying your voice. "Texting my coworker mere minutes after leaving my bed is a sin on it's own."

"Wait, what? Hold on-"

"But in those mere hours of bliss, I googled you. Looked at your name on Twitter. Saw who you were. And you're just another slimy athlete that uses girls and throws them away."

Your face broke when you heard him laugh loudly at the revelation. It made you angry, expecting him to feel ashamed of his behavior.

"I despise miscommunication, Naranja. So don't go jumping to conclusions and acting foolish. Your coworker sent me a letter essentially begging to fuck me, but I suspect you knew that already. Hell, you might have even been the one to switch the names around."

Your cheeks grew warmer, and a part of your brain registered that Gavi was now lingering in the doorway.

"But beyond that, linda, is that I was texting her to say I wasn't interested." He began dressing, joggers defining his legs in a way acid-washed denim never could. "But I don't like being judged based on rumors on Twitter. I want to be your friend-"

"Again with that word!" The outrage was finally seeping from you, and now that the lid had come off there was no containing it.

"How am I meant to be your friend, Pedro? You hit on me, you sleep with me, and then you moved on to the next girl. How am I supposed to be your friend after everything you've put me through?"

"What did you expect of me exactly?" He shoved his shirt over his head, a sweet bit of relief in a tense situation. "I like you, Naranja. More than a lot of other girls I've met. And I want to keep seeing you," he let his eyes burn a path down your body, "as a little more than a friend. If that's something you're into."

You took a step back, hand over your chest in shock. Did this man just ask you to be a friend with benefits, mere minutes after you asserted your disgust for his very being.

"You must think so highly of yourself." You couldn't raise your voice out of fear of it cracking. Just how much had you deluded yourself into thinking you found something special?

"I don't actually," there was a tone of laughter in his voice, "quite the opposite actually." There was suddenly not enough air between you. You simultaneously wished someone would interrupt you and that the moment would last forever.

"You're a sweet girl, Naranja. Too sweet for someone like me. I know who I am and what I want, and a girlfriend is not on that list currently."

"So what? I'm good enough for you to fuck and not to date?" You asked, the question heavy between the two of you. He remained silent, lips unmoving, the wheels turning behind deep chocolate eyes.

"I like you enough not to want to hurt you, Naranja. So, what do you say? Friends?"

"Go fuck yourself, Pedro."

~

The high pitched noise of the camera going off repeatedly was starting to get to your head. You leaned against the wall, rubbing at your temples to try and stave off the impending migraine. You opened your eyes briefly to see Gavi also leaning against the wall, gnawing on his lip and staring at his phone. Propelled by boredom, you shifted slowly along the wall to peak at what he was doing, desperate for any form of entertainment.

Thank God for the lack of Gavi's vertical blessing. A quick peek revealed that he wasn't actually typing any words, only rereading text from a contact that was saved as...

"Holy shit are you fucking your doctor?" You asked, probably a little louder than appropriate.

His eyes went wide as frying pans and he began to go visibly red. He started babbling out denials, explaining that the two of them were just friends.

"I mean she has a boyfriend and even if she didn't she would never go for me because she's so much older than me and cooler than me and she's way out of my league but all I want to do is keep her safe and make her happy and-"

His brain finally caught up to the words he was letting loose, and he abruptly suspended his word vomit.

"Does she know that you like her?" You asked, back against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with Gavi.

"God, I hope not. I don't want to do anything to make her life harder than it already is."

"Maybe telling her how you feel will make it easier. Maybe she feels the same."

"Yeah," he sighed deeply, looking wistfully at his phone again, "That's what Pedri keeps telling me."

The disgust was evident on your features. "I wouldn't really take Pedri's relationship advice."

"Now now, turning my best friend against me because you want me is a little extreme, Naranja." The voice behind you was too much to bear.

"Someone needs to give your best friend advice on how to not transform into a heartless user."

"Ironic. I remember one of us chanting 'use me, use me, use me' just last week." The response died in your mouth as Pedri's publicist approached. Where did this guy get off? Even if you believed his bullshit excuse about not wanting to fuck Silvia, the teen drama explanation as to why he doesn't "do" relationships compensated plenty.

"Alright you crazy kids! Ready to go shopping?" You spun around so quickly that you almost smacked Gavi with your hair.

"I beg your pardon? I am a stylist, not a personal shopper. I get pieces sent to me."

That was the truth. You weren't in charge or brand relations, and the purchasing department was an impenetrable fortress. Each week, a soulless intern wheeled a rack into the room, and you worked with what you were given. You had several ideas for how you could modernize some of these stuffy athletes, but that wasn't your place. Not yet anyways.

"Yes, of course. But we are redoing Pedri's wardrobe entirely. We have received communication from the team that his tunnel outfits are - what was the official wording? Oh yes, 'a detriment to the team's public image and an offense to the eyes of culers globally'. Springfield have also asked us to film some content during the journey."

"I don't think this is really part of Naranja's job description."

Of course Pedri was the one undermining you. Of course it was his voice speaking out only to call you incapable. You forced on your biggest smile, turning to face the agent directly.

"Oh, there's no issue at all. It would be an honor to makeover Spain's worst looking footballer."

~~~

Okay end of part 2!! I have decided that I want to post more frequent, smaller parts for this story rather than giant updates every three months. Please let me know what you think in the comments and in my ask box, and potentially where you want this dynamic to go! Thanks cutes xoxo gavisuntiedboot <3

(also if you would like to be on the taglist for this story, pls lmk!!)

Taglist:

@girlidekanymore

[simonrileysfavteacup]

Car Accidents

Paring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x wife!reader

Word count: 600 ish?

Warnings: car accidents, injuries, dad!simon, mom!reader, ambulances

Summary: When your eldest daughter's life is threatened, what will Simon do?

Simon liked James. He treated Emma well. He was polite. He came from a good single mother and he was kind. 

The boy was like him. 

A teenage boy stood at Simon’s door, holding a bouquet of roses in his hand. Emma had run down to answer the door the moment the doorbell rang. Simon had himself leaning against the stairs to make himself seem bigger. Even though he’s huge. 

“James!” Emma throws her arms around him. Simon tenses. You head over to the door, greeting the young boy.

That's when Simon realises the flowers in his hands for you, not Emma. He softens. James introduces himself, shaking his hand. Simon smiles, “Nice t’ meet ya. Keep ‘er safe. Be home by 10.”

***

Simon woke to his phone, not on silent, playing his basic ringtone. He groans, praying it didn’t wake you. When he feels your hand shove him, he knows it did. He reaches over, seeing James’ name on his screen. He picks it up, “What do ya want at this time of night?”

“Mr. Riley?”

“Kid, I’ve told ya. ‘S Simon.”

“Umm…I…Emma and I were at the movies and we were on our way to get ice cream, but this drunk driver hit us and totalled my car and Emma’s not waking up and I’m stuck in the car and-”

“Kid, kid, slow down. Where are ya?”

“50th ave…”

“Did ya call 911?”

“Yes…before I called you.”

“Okay, stay there. Try no’ to move. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay…please hurry…”

Simon hangs up, getting out of bed. Your hand pulls him back into bed. “What happened?”

“Dove and James got into an accident. I’m gone go take care of them,” he presses a kiss to your cheek before heading into the closet. 

“Wait, what? I’m coming with you!”

“No, lovie, you stay here, ‘kay?”

“I”m coming. That’s my daughter too.”

“Lovie…”

“Simon.”

“Fine, get ya clothes on.”

***

Simon pulls over, recognizing one of the cars in the wreck. James’. 

The boy sits leaning against it, his head in his hands. You run over, taking him into your arms. “Are you okay? Where’s Em? Is she okay?”

“She woke up a few minutes ago. The ambulance is checking on her. I’m so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Riley.”

“Kid, ya got nothin’ to be sorry for,” Simon says, still looking around to spot Emma.

“I shouldn’t have taken her out so late…”

“KId, listen to me, it’s not ya fault.”

“But-”

“It’s not. Now, what ambulance did they take Dove to?”

James points to the one where she is. Simon walks towards the truck while you take James’ hand. “Did you call your mom?”

“No, she’d kill me if she had to leave work for something this dumb.”

“It’s not dumb. You’re hurt.” 

“She won’t come anyways.” 

“He can come home with us. Spend the night with Dove,” Simon interrupts, hearing the conversation you two were having. 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you smile at Simon. He heads over to Emma, where she holds an icepack to her head. Her eyes spot her father and she lights up, falling towards him and into his arms. 

James stands behind Simon, a guilty look on his face. “Em?”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare,” Emma sighs. “This wasn’t your fault. I’m fine. I promise.” 

Simon caresses her head, holding her tightly against him. “‘ts nobodys faul’. We’re gone go home. Both o’ ya gonna be fine.”

James looks down at his feet. “Thank you, Mr. Ri-Simon…”

Simon smiles internally. 

He won’t ever admit it but he has 3 sons now.

[oceantornadoo]

ex and the city (simon riley x female reader)

inspired by s2 ep18 of sex and the city (currently on a binge). miranda and steve are the cutest (pls don't spoil)

ANGSTY

--

fuck, it was him.

simon stood at the other side of your door, glaring into your peephole. you stepped back quickly, hand covering your mouth in shock. after running away from him on the street the other day, you hadn't expected him to show up. maybe you could just not answer, pretend it never happened and- "can hear ya breathin', dove." shit.

you quickly unlocked the door, trying to compose yourself. "simon! hi!" shit you needed to calm down. that is not how an ex-fiancee would treat her almost-husband. "shitty thing you did, runnin' like a rabbit fr'm me." your eyebrows rose. he was going for it. "i didn't run!" he looked at you, dead-eyed. letting the silence hang over you like a dark cloud, the air growing tense in your apartment hallway behind him.

"you ran." you ran a hand down your face, the other tightening your grip on your door. "well, i wasn't expecting to see you and- i just-" your voice choked, an attempt at hiding back your tears. "hurt my feelin's, dove." simon kept his arms crossed, staring down at you. he never did talk about his feelings much, but seeing the woman who was supposed to be his wife, his forever, run away from him? that hurt even a dead man like him.

"well i don't do very well with ex-boyfriends and..." you trailed off, staring at your toes. the tears were hot behind your eyes now, months of frustration and longing boiling to the surface. "dove..." he reached out and tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him. the feeling of his gloves against your skin was so familiar you almost closed your eyes, but snapped them open when you remembered. "this is me. simon." you nodded, throat thick. you shrugged, struggling to find the words to convey how you survived without him for the past four months. you decided on a simple, "yeah."

"i held your head while you wer' sleepin'." simon took off his mask, tucking it in his pocket. his hair was a bit longer since the last time you saw it. his face a bit scruffy, sporting a few new scars from the last deployment you had screamed at him for. your neighbor appeared behind him, tilting her head back as she pretended not to listen. you turned away, rubbing at your eyes as they got red. he took the silent invite and ran with it, stepping through and closing the door before your neighbor saw you vulnerable. always protecting you physically, even when he couldn't emotionally.

"im sorry. im so sorry it- i just-" you rubbed at your chest, an aching spot forming behind your rib cage. "shh dove, s'ok, yer ok." he reached for you and then stopped himself. he didn't get that privilege anymore. "i just hadn't seen you in so long and i thought you might have died and i missed you simon..." your voice cracked at his name, the taste of it so familiar. like a warm hot chocolate on a winter's day, a cool lemonade on a summer's night. "im a shitty person! you'd never do anything that shitty."

he chuckled. you, always idolizing him, making him out to be a golden boy when really he was rotting, a half-dead thing for you to play with. "showed up to yer apartment in the middle of the day an' called yer landlord to make sure you were in. what'dya call that?" a sob rose from your throat, the humor of what he said hitting you hard. "yeah that was pretty shitty." you nodded, rewarding him with a weak smile and a half-angry tone.

"i miss you. in my bones, si." his eyes were wet, crinkling in the leftover eye-black. "im here, dove. what'rya doin' friday?" you let out a sob again, covering your mouth. "i have a date." fuck, he'd kill him. he'd let johnny plant mines and put gaz on intelligence and ask price to redeem that one favor from a year ago. he'd make it look like an purposeful accident, a gas leak or a water heater explosion. something where even the man's family couldn't get any money. he ran his hands through his hair, a nervous tick he only showed in front of you.

"can't pretend to be happy for ya, dove. can't be a better man on this." and suddenly you were hugging him, hands reaching over his shoulders as you stood on familiar tiptoes. his hands automatically circled your waist, the feel of it engrained in his soul. something he could describe from memory. "lets just...stay here awhile. okay?" he nodded into your hair, breathing in that familiar scent. he had another chance at making you his wife and he wasn't going to lose it again.

--

i kinda want to write one of these for all of the 141?? we'll see.

[dark-and-kawaii]

༺ 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓌𝓁 ༻

Astarion can’t get over his lust for tav, she’s sleeping but he can’t resist.

Slight NSFW - Blood

His tongue glides over one of his fangs as his thoughts start to drift, the feeling of your body submitting to him, your oh so sweet whimpers that turn into blissful moans… And gods the way your spine curved up pressing your breasts into his chest as he gorged upon your neck. His jaw clenched, it was as if your veins ran with ichor… A goddess ready to be consumed by himself and only him, you were a gift to him he knows it. Perhaps this was his reward for surviving 200 years under Cazador.

Right at this moment you looked like a sacrificial lamb, the fires light dances across your smooth skin, your loose underwear straps were crawling down your arm every time you moved. Your breathing labored. This was all starting to become far too much for the spawn, Astarion could feel his ice cold body begin to warm just as a drug like high fills his mind.

It felt as if chains were wrapped around your limbs and struggling proved futile… The air felt like it was slowly dissipating around you, mind hazy while your head shakes back and forth as if begging for whatever was holding you down to stop. Panic rose in your chest, your dreams turning to a nightmare, you were running trying to escape the darkness that started to cloak your vision. A vision of your dream visitor appears before you in your nightmare, they were holding their hand out to you, offering to help you find an escape. Just as your hands touch theirs your eyes open…

There in the dimly lit forest you see him, Astarion. His head is between your legs, your one leg propped over his shoulder while the glow of the fire shines off his fangs. At first you’re unaware if he’s already bitten you, it’s not until you feel warmth trail down to your clothed groin, he’s already taken what he believes is his.

“A-Astarion” your arms attempt to lift to his shoulders, you try to push him away so you can speak to him, but it proves futile. He’s taken so much from you already yet he can feel your struggles. Lifting his head from between your legs he greets your eyes with pure benevolence, knowing this look would deceive you, “Yes, love?” is all he can conjure up before sliding his tongue down your thigh as he laps up the blood that’s found its way down to your sex.

“When I ascend I’ll turn you, little dove. That way-“ Astarion kisses your inner thigh, “that way any damage I inflict on you can heal with ease.” His voice was velvety, “But first, I have another craving to satisfy.”

Mouth curving into a feral sort of snarl, fangs protruding from his jaw and his teeth running over their sharp points, Astarion lowers his head back to your inner thigh. He sinks his teeth into your upper thigh, the heat from your sex radiates off his cheek while thick hot blood runs into his mouth and seeps out… Your vital fluid makes his bloodlust hasten..

A steady stream running down onto the ground… As more of your blood flooded his mouth, the weaker you became… Still though, you believed you could trust him and you let yourself melt into him, “As-Astarion,” His name came out as a begged moan, yet you sounded like you were barely still here on this plane.

Your shaky voice was the only thing that could ever break his trance, pulling him back to reality that you very well could die if he goes too far. He isn’t a true vampire, yet. He couldn’t bring you back should he mess up. With his teeth still pierced into your flesh he could feel your pulse weakening, he knew it was time to stop, if only for a moment.

Smearing the blood on his index finger, Astarion lifted the warm substance to his lips; the intoxicating sweetness hitting every taste bud.

“I- you know I’d never mean to kill you.” He rested his head on your thigh that wasn’t propped over his shoulder. Besides the crackling of the fire, you both laid there in silence for only but a moment until in one swift movement, Astarion sheds his clothing. His rapid movements had you pinned down before you could even blink. His perfectly toned body loomed over you.

“I trust you,” You could feel some strength return to you, enough to be able to slide a loose strand of his white hair behind his pointed ear, your gracious smile putting him at ease.

Astartion’s lips met yours in a passionate kiss, savoring the taste of his saliva you could taste specs of your own blood. Hands running through each other’s hair as the kiss became more forceful, teeth scraping against teeth, tongues mingling in the very deepest depths of one another’s mouths, and your blood continuously dripping from your bite wound. Struggling to sit upright, to put your arms around his chest, you felt the power behind him pinning you down, keeping you incapable of moving.

Breaking the kiss, Astarion looked like he did the first time he ever tasted you, ravenous, hungry, his pants deep as his chest rises and falls, “Dove, let me take care of you, trust that I won't stray too far.” He kisses the top of your hand, foreshadowing what's to come if you allow him to ascend… Tonight you bask in his embrace, his sweet words, ignoring the dreadful feeling deep within your gut…

[sanjifucker42069]

Stuck - Zoro x Reader

Word Count: around 2700

Haha….I've never written Zoro. This will probably be a bit shit.  Oh well. If you see a spelling/grammatical error, no you didn't. It's 2am lmao.

Warnings: NSFW MDNI, you get stuck in a wall, reader has a vagina. P in V baby, stuck in a wall, sorta dubcon, some light spanking, established relationship. My normal blend of Reader being a dipshit, (you're submissive tho this time so that's something).

Zoro was lost. Again. He didn't get it. Everyone was exploring some ruins they'd found. He'd seen you wandering off, claiming you had seen an animal they could catch and eat. It made no sense. You should be around here somewhere, right? 

Wait, didn't he pass that column already? Fuck.

The swordsman roamed some more, finding himself at some minor ruined building. It was a wreck. Only two walls stood standing, with remains of a third smashed against them, debris strewn about. There was hardly anything left, nature having collected everything else. All he could see was the pale cream crumbling bricks, the dirt floor, tufts of grass, and the rear of a human, legs bent and hanging from a hole in the wall.

A human?

No. That was you. 

Zoro would recognise that ass anywhere.

"Babe, any reason you're crawling through the dirt." You mumbled something unintelligible. "Wha?"

Zoro really had a way with words.

"I'm stuck." Your voice was louder this time.

Zoro laughed. "Stuck? How the fuck did you get stuck?"

"I tried chasing that stupid animal! I was gonna catch it, but…it dove through this hole. I was sure I'd fit!"

"You got tricked by some kinda fucked up squirrel?" Zoro was shamelessly staring at your ass, highly amused at your predicament.

“Will you shut the fuck up and help me out you asshole?” You snapped, trying desperately to pull yourself out.

Zoro felt his throat go dry. Your weak attempts at escape looked downright sinful from his view. He watched with rapt fascination as you bucked your hips, curving your back deliciously, the way your hips snapped forward and back, a desperate attempt to get free. All it did was jiggle your thick thighs and make your skirt flutter around your ass, the fabric rising and falling with your frantic attempts.

Fuck.

"Zoro?" Your voice pitched up, terrified he'd abandoned you. You tried to twist your position, all that did was flip your skirt up. A blush rose on your cheeks. You squirmed harder, trying to get the fabric to fall back down.

Fuck! 

Zoro choked back a groan, eyes landing on your white panties. The chaste cut and untouched cotton somehow looked more lewd than possible. Zoro felt his brow tic as he took in how the fabric stretched deliciously over your ass. Your struggling shifted the garment, pulling it obscenely tight and digging into you. If he truly focused he swore he could see your folds, the thin fabric clinging to and highlighting the form below it. Were you trying to kill him?

"Zoro, you didn't leave did you? You motherfucker! When I get out of here I'm gonna kick your fucking ass so help me-" 

Hands settled on your hips, thumbs digging into your hip bones deliciously. You froze deathly still. Terror plunged your heart into your stomach, the feeling of burning static clawing at your lungs. A low voice grumbled behind you, clicking his tongue.

“You’re being a brat for someone who can’t defend themselves. I’m right here.”

All at once the fear you felt subsided. You knew you would be safe. You breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Ah, my hero! Baby I knew you'd never leave m- whathehellareyoudoing?!"

The way you flipped your attitude brought a grin to the swordsman’s face. Zoro began trying to pull you out, his large hands branding fingerprints into your hips. He heaved, pulling you harshly. Ow! Fucking ape! He really couldn’t be more delicate with you, could he? You clenched your fists and braced yourself. Despite his tugging, there was no movement towards escape, just the feeling of you being slingshotted back and forth in the few centimetres of leeway you had.

The noises that tumbled out of the mouth were driving Zoro insane. You were whining and huffing, the protests sounding obscene out of context. Flailing, trying desperately to get purchase, your legs periodically kicking out, jutting with the escape attempts. Fuck, the way that you couldn’t even ground your feet, suspended in the air! As it was you were on your tiptoes, at such an angle where it was obvious they were barely skimming the hard earth below you.

Fuck.

Zoro was definitely hard now.

He felt disgusted with himself. It’d be so easy to just touch you. You couldn’t fight back, he could just take you. Shit, he could probably just slide straight in. Would you like it? Would you clench deliciously against him? What was wrong with him?

Zoro cleared his throat. “Hey.”

“Do you think I’m stuck here?”

“Nah.” He rasped out. “Nah, we’ll get you out. Wanna try something?”

The moss haired man didn’t wait for you to ask what, he trailed his hands to caress your thighs. He dipped his thumbs inwards, the digits dragging down your inner thigh with a featherlight touch. You immediately responded, thighs quivering beneath his touch. He heard you suck in a breath.

“Are you serious Zoro?! Now?” Your voice came out as a hiss. Zoro immediately felt himself grow defensive.

“If you were seeing what I was seeing, you’d want to too.”

Silence. Ugh, Zoro hated when it got awkward like this. He opened his mouth to apologise.

“Fine.”

What.

What did you mean ‘fine’? Zoro frowned. Could you be more vague? The swordsman became aware of his hands still clasped around your spread thighs, the way your skin had goosebumps. Interesting. When the silence showed no sign of being broken you groaned.

“Fine Zoro! I’m not gonna beg. Do what you want, just…” Your voice trailed off, hesitating on what to say. “Make it quick, and make it worth my while.”

That forced a light chuckle from Zoro. He resumed trailing his hands up and down your thighs, relishing in how you whimpered.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to be making demands, babe.”

Zoro was not a man for properness, or waiting, or being appropriate really. He tore your panties down your legs, letting them hang lewdly around your ankles. You squealed in surprise and embarrassment, snapping your legs shut and teetering from the lack of balance. The underwear fell to the ground, wet and ruined. You bobbed back and forth, a perverse see-saw. You felt mortified at the situation.

You squirmed, knees glued together and ankles flared apart. It was obvious you were trying to hide yourself. Zoro watched with amusement at how you clenched your asscheeks and tilted your hips down. It was, of course, hardly of any use. Your entire ass was completely on display, and Zoro was getting impatient at only being able to see half your puffy lips. He clamped his hands just above your knees, loving how you jumped at the feeling. He saw you clench. 

Right.

Zoro pried your legs apart, perverse satisfaction flooding him as more and more of you became exposed. You rewarded him with a loud squeal, followed by a ramble of something. Zoro wasn’t really listening. No offence, but he had much more pressing things to attend to than your embarrassed whining. You were already slick with juices, glistening appetisingly. Your pussy was clenching around nothing, no doubt caused by your embarrassment and the cool air that hit it. Poor thing.

He could warm you up.

Zoro dragged a finger up your slit. You whined, shivering beneath him. He prodded and petted at you, grinning at the lewd noises that fell from your mouth. Sliding his fingers back up, he pulled back to one finger, sliding his first finger around your hole, picking up your essence and tickling you. Experimentally, he slipped a finger in. You cursed. He pulled out, immediately causing you to whine.

A smirk. Good.

Zoro wasted no time, plunging his two middle fingers into your pretty pussy. He knew you could take it. The squeal that rewarded him brought a smirk to his face. He quirked the fingers upwards, watching as your ass jiggled when you squirmed, a moan escaping. Zoro resumed his work, languidly rocking his large fingers in and out of you with one hand. With the other he harshly grabbed your asscheek, squeezing and groping it. Your symphony of sinful noises spurning him on. He kneaded the flesh, relishing as you squealed when he pulled at you, spreading you fully for him.

“Stop that!” You ordered weakly, trying to angle your hips away. Zoro laughed, the way you tried to sound intimidating was cute. 

“Sounds like you still haven’t realised the problem you're in.” You could hear the smirk in your lover’s voice, causing you to bristle. Zoro removed the hand on your ass

“It’s embarrassing!”

Swat!

“Zoro what the fuck!? AH!”

Swat!

Your complaint pitched up into a surprised whine as he spanked you. Not too hard, he didn’t want to hurt you, just enough to get what he wanted. Zoro felt a bead of apprehension, technically he had never bought that up before. Did you hate it? Your body answered for you, Zoro’s eyes widening at how you lightly fucked yourself on his fingers, desperate for anything. 

Oh.

Zoro rubbed at your ass, soothing where he’d swatted. With the hand that was pleasuring you, he snaked his large thumb up, prodding at your clit as a reward. You startled, gasping at the addition. He resumed pleasuring you, fingers pumping and thumb working circles into your nub, You whined and moaned, praises tumbling from your lips. Zoro’s fingers began to cause a squelching sound with their ministrations as you throbbed around him, the two of you both taken aback. Shit, you were really enjoying this. Zoro stilled, completely in awe.

“Z-Zoro? Come on! Do something! Anyth-”

Thwack!

“SHIT!”

The way you clenched around his fingers had him salivating. Shit, shit, he needed to be in you now. He removed his fingers from you. You whined at the loss, trying to chase him with your hips. 

Zoro couldn't get his pants down quick enough, fingers clawing at the fabric like they were on fire. Worst still, you were whining in front of him, goading him into acting sloppier than he'd like to.

"Baby! Zoro!" No response, your cute act dropped. Zoro, meanwhile, had finally got his thick cock free, letting the garment pool at his feet. "C'mon dude that isn't cool! I am going to bite your arm off when I get outta he-"

Zoro rolled his eyes, hands back on your hips. You were so fucking overdramatic sometimes. The protests died out at his touch, bringing a grin to his face. You wiggled your hips, clearly having caught on.

Unfortunately, you really were mouthy.

"Oh shit! Did you…have you got your cock out? You gonna fuck me? Fuck yeah!"

Zoro groaned. 

"I'm starting to wish I was on the other side, if just to shut you up."

"Hurry up and fuck me man!" Your offended gasp and annoyed bite managed to earn a small laugh. "I heard that chuckle, asshole! Made you laugh. Gotta fuck me now, pirate's law."

Swat!

A little spank, hardly any heat. You laughed. Zoro supposed he was glad you were enjoying this, shaking his head at your silliness. He lined himself up, dragging his cock down your slit to prepare himself, coating himself in your juices. You shivered.

"Ready."

Zoro didn't wait for you to say something absolutely stupid and ruin the vibe. He pushed in, relishing in how you stilled and sucked in a breath. You were left dizzy by both the pressure of the intrusion and the hot groan you heard from him. He stilled when he bottomed out, a deep grunt escaping. Zoro let you adjust, cringing at the feeling of you clenching and unclenching around him. That certainly couldn't have felt good for you. You moaned.

Huh.

Maybe it did.

"P-please move Zo." 

Well, Zoro guess he always knew one way to make you quieter.

He began a slow pace, deep thrusts forcing your hips to slap against the sides of the hole you were stuck in. He tried to keep up the slow pace, really he did, but you were clenching around him so hard, he could hear you muttering curses, trying to push your hips back to set a faster pace.

Who was he to deny you?

"Tch. Brat. You're gonna have no one to blame but yourself if I hurt you." Zoro warned, a breathy laugh rewarding him.

"Yeah? I'm falling asleep over here. Speed it up sword-boy."

Zoro growled, setting a pace that made you see stars. You moaned, amusement audible. He grabbed at your ass roughly. With a bruising grip, he fucked into you hard and fast. 

"Do you have to, hah, be so…hah…" Zoro groaned through breaths.

"Annoying?" You panted. "Only for you babe."

Zoro wanted you to crumble. He wanted you to feel as affected as he did. (You were just as affected, of course. You were just a little shit.) He began attacking your clit with one of his hands roughly, thumb massaging the bundle of nerves. The squeal of pleasure and surprise that rewarded him flooded his ego. You clenched down on him, constricting him.

"Fuck Zo! Shit! C'mon, please say you're close?" A grunt. "Fuck! Good! Can I cum? Wanna cum on your cock. Please baby!"

Your filthy whines spurned him to rut into you harder. You blanched, you didn't even think he could go harder. His movements on your clit became clumsy, clear he was caught up in his own pleasure. Oh, he was close. You knew his tells by now. So when you felt him lean forward, trying to get more skin against skin, you clenched. Hard. A fucked out grin stretched your cheeks at the curses you heard. Zoro swatted at your ass, harder than other attempts. Fucking bastard! You moaned at the pleasurable sting. 

At once you felt the thumb back on your clit, still clumsy, but trying to pleasure you. Your legs shook. You were so close.

So close.

Zoro felt his balls become painfully tight.

So close.

"Be a good slut. Cum on my cock (name)."

You gasped at his vulgar request. Zoro wasn't one to use your name often, preferring nicknames or just 'babe'. The use of your name sent you wild. The tether snapping, white filling your vision.

Zoro felt you clamp down hard before you began spasming around him. He keened. Fuck. He hurtled over the edge, cumming deep into you. His hands must hurt you, the iron grip on your hips desperate. He felt his seed shoot from him, painting your walls. Like after an explosion his senses dampened. All he could hear was  a high whine. Yours, he assumed. His senses were dull, pleasure overriding him. You were milking him for everything he had, the spasming pressure almost too much. Fuck. 

The swordsman slumped forward,resting his chest against the wall above you. He greedily sucked in gasps, trying to get his breath back. Senses coming back, he could hear you panting, trying to regain your bearings.

A comfortable silence, save for your combined breaths, filled the area. Zoro cringed as he pulled his softened cock out of you, the drag overstimulating, and he heard you wince. He began redressing quickly, and within moments was decent.

You, on the other hand, were not. Cum was leaking out of your abused hole. Zoro wished he could take a picture, keep it with him forever. Instead, he tried to commit the view to memory. Fuck. That was hot.

"Can you let me out now."

Zoro groaned. 

He took your fallen panties with one hand, and lightly lifted one of your feet with the other. Quietly he redressed you, feeling a perverted smirk as he pulled the underwear back over your ass, the cum sticking to the fabric. Eh, you could get clean when he got you out. Was definitely hot to see you, with his cum leaking out of you, so full that is was spilling out of the legholes of your underwear. If you weren't careful on the walk back it would gush down your thighs, obvious you were his. 

Fuck.

Now was not the time. He pulled your skirt back down and took a step back. 

Hmm. 

"Zoro?"

"Yeah, hang on. Let me think. What if I try to just…punch a bigger hole in the wall?"

You sighed. You were going to die here.

[slvt4floyd]

yandere floyd headcanons 😳🤭

Oh, whats this?? my first request and it's about floyd?? BUT AS A YANDERE?! SAY LESS 🤭🤭 ~

Yandere!Floyd Headcanons

Mentions of : NSFW, stalking, death threats, basically yandere shi so if you don't like it then scroll away!!

This kind-hearted boy, he may look nice and innocent but you're gonna have to believe me when i say that this gentlemen right here isn't as innocent as he seems...

When he saw you at first sight his heart skipped beat as he gazed at you from afar. Admiring your features and the way your voice sounded, it was like music to his ears. It felt like his whole world was flipped upside down!

He would stalk you around pop village and take pictures of you everywhere you go. He has a huge box full of things about YOU, he even writes about what your favourite food is and what you're interested in all in one scrapbook, probably has a whole shrine of you with candles and tons of roses...

Listen- He's deeply inlove with you. Just you existing makes his heart melt, he would die for you, he would kill for you, he would basically do ANYTHING for you!

He was inlove with your scent so one time he snuck into your room and would steal your clothes, he loves your scent so he would always wear them while in his own time he might even steal some pair of underwear from your drawers and use that to help out whenever he has a little problem..

Nicknames!! He would def call you anything with 'my' at the start of it like for example : My love, but i would see him calling you dove and dear <3

He's REALLY overprotective/possessive of you, even if some troll comes up to you and starts flirting, it will result him in slicing off their heads off instantly..

One day you were walking down the street while a troll was eyeing you up and down. This made Floyds blood run cold as he was watching from afar, he death stared at the troll that was checking you out... He will gladly make sure they'll never do it again He followed the fellow troll that eyed you up earlier, he wanted to teach him a lesson to leave you alone by threatening him with a knife to his neck- "If you dare look at her/him like that ever again, i swear it'll be the last time you will ever lay eyes on them.." Nobody can look at you like that, only he can... "She's/He's mine and mine only.." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ {WRITERS NOTE} Okay so i made this around 3 and i was so tired asf i just went back to be and woke up to just finish this up, i hope this is good enough. Im still new to this so sorry that this was so short and if this may not be what you wanted but i tried my best 😭 ALSO IM MAKING A PART 2 WITH THIS, I WAS SO TIRED AND COULDN'T KEEP WRITING!!

[chiara-hotel]

𝒟𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓂

Characters: Nikolai, Beast!Dazai

Warnings: N/A

- Chaos, lots of chaos you have to deal with daily

- He is also very energetic so he will talk to you quite a lot

- Loves cuddling, sometimes he cannot get your hands off of you

- Even if hes in the next room, hes using hia ability to grab your arm

- Very clingy if that wasn’t obvious already, Loves any sort of physical affection/PDA

- In a meeting with the DOA? Its okay Dove, you can sit on his lap while he talks about murdering half the population

- Fyodor might not trust you with this info but he’d just kill you if you betray Nikolai & the DOA

- Sigma would probably be fine with you at the meeting he just gets a little…flustered with how much nikolai’s hands are all over you while hes taking

- Just pray that Sigma or Fyodor won’t notice, or Fukuchi whenever they need to call him

- You guys most often go on Arcade dates or cafe dates

- Nikolai hates movie dates because hes just staring at the screen for a whole hour without doing anything, he can’t even cuddle you if you go to the theaded

- Whenever he gives gifts it includes chocolates and roses through magic tricks, his ability makes it easier to fool you too

- The luxury of life you live in

- Spoils you on shopping trips all the time, even if he could not attend he gives you his black card

- Either way, the employees know your dazai’s partner and if they make you pay, they’ll pay later

- Your not in the Port Mafia yet most people know who you are and you always visit dazai

- Once someone tried to shoot you thinking you were an intruder and there man was no where to be seen the next day

- Dazai loves when you visit him, especially during very important meetings

- Specifically with meetings you sit on his lap while he’s talking with high-status people and they all think you shouldn’t be here

- He usually comes back late at night so often times he crawls into your bed as your already asleep

- Work trips also might interfere with the about of time he can spend with you

- During these trips he sends you letters, photos, emails and much more

- A clingly black cat would best describe him during these times

- Beast!Dazai enjoys PDA to a certain extent, enough to make someone uncomfortable with you sitting on his lap, kissing his cheek gently

- But big actions of PDA like making out he perfers in a private setting

- Unless someone tried to steal you away, then he will gladly show them who you belong to

- His kisses in private are very possessive, like hes trying to prove he loves and owns you

- On that note, he gets extremely jealous which is why he lets the world know you are taken

- Dazai also has bodyguards by you at all times just in case, depending on the current state of the mafia the bodyguard could be an executive or a high ranking ability user

——————————————————————————

[costelloschoice]

I absolutely adore your fics and was thinking about a Yandere Mizu fanfic idea (if you like the idea as well of course) Keep up the good work you're amazing 🥰💜

-Thank you for the request, i made a little something short yet sweet <3 -sorry it took so long, I managed to fuck up my legs by falling from ice (don't ask) so i've been focusing on feeling better :}

Red Means I Love You Yandere!Mizu x fem!reader -warnings: toxic behavior, possessive over reader -hope you enjoy :]

She never felt this way about anyone else. It was scary.

Mizu believed that love wasn't for her. Love was harsh to her, least till you came along. You were such a breath of fresh air, a beautiful rose in a garden of weeds. And she wanted your sweetness all to herself.

You were like a small deer. A fragile and gentle being. Something so pure and sweet, weak and defenseless. So pretty up close but easily scared…Yet she managed to get close to this deer. And you didn’t run away…In fact you decided to come closer to her. She was a hunter, killing many, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t appreciate your beauty.

She thought she had a little crush on you. I mean, you were so nice to her and showed her kindness that she always dreamed of. But seeing how Taigen would try to flirt with you, made her feel an unbridled rage. How the hell does this man think he is? First, he has Akemi and now you? No. He doesn’t get to have who ever he wants. Maybe because of Mizu’s childhood he tortured her, but he doesn’t deserve a girl like you.

Mizu would Taigen away, threating him to stay away from you. That Mizu knows men like him will use someone as beautiful as you. Everything about you was perfect, Mizu couldn't find a flaw if she tried. It seems like you've stolen her heart from her. Taigen would get offended and walk away. Like a buck trying to win over a doe deer but failing due to the human the deer was so close to.

In her eyes, no one could be around you or talk to you for too long. She would barely let Taigen speak to you and Ringo was allowed to talk to you and only to help you with an injuries.

When Boss Hamata sent his men to attack Mizu and the women at the tea house, she tried to protect you the best she could. You refused to stay in the basement and help Mizu fight against the corrupted boss and his men. She told you to stay back and hide with the rest...but of course you didn't listen.

You were a foolish girl, but like all humans, we make mistakes.

You were on the ground, bloodied and you tried to stop the man’s katana from going into you. From the blood spots, it looks like you were getting weaker and weaker by the second and wouldn’t be able to last any longer. You were a poor, helpless baby dear against the big bad wolf…You couldn’t find this man off alone. It was pathetic, but in a cute way.

Mizu, trying to have a grip on the situation, immediately went after the man. Ripping the man off of you before stabbing him repeatedly. She was the hunter who took the wolf down to protect her doe deer. She didn’t care if he was dead, she just kept stabbing till her anger subsided.

Now covered in this man’s blood, she turns to see you. You looked petrified. She thought it was because of the man but really it was because of her. She was used to everyone looking at her that way…but your gaze hurt the most. Her deer was surely to run off in the woods and never been seen again from her.

“Oh my dove..” Mizu spoke, moving to you. Her bloody hand caressed your cheek. The smell of iron was thick and heavy, making you flinch and gag internally. You were disgusted by these actions, her violent and ruthless killing. Yes he hurt you but at some point it’s uncalled for….but bigger shouldn’t be choicers.

“You’re safe..” she whispered, placing a kissing to your forehead. A red lip print on your forehead. It felt so wrong but nice after your near death experience.

“My small doe…You’re mine to protect..” she whispered into your skin, continuing to place kisses on your forehead.

“You’re mine.”

She said with aggression present in her tone. You just nodded, what else could you do? She could easily hurt you is you protested. You didn’t wish to die at the hands of your protector.

“I’m yours…”

“All mine..” she mumbled. Mizu caressed the soft hair of her doe deer, calming down the easily frightened creature. She perfect, sweet, weak and fragile deer now safe in her arms again, where she belongs.

[lukasdoodles]

Wanted to talk abt some of my Jesse headcanons bc they r creatures to me (General hcs bc they have slightly different stuff depending on the Jesse)

All the Jesse's play different routes to me, with slightly different choices and experiences. But they're all a little aware that their actions are not their own, some more so than others. Green suspenders/red hair clip are the most in tune with that awareness, so they're a lil more messed up/unhinged than the rest. (Plus they've done multiple playthroughs to me, and while no one remembers the playthroughs they DO have an odd sense of deja-vu) and all the jesse's r he/they/she with no particular preference

Green suspenders Jesse (my fav and the one ill prolly talk abt the most lol) has a LOT of scars but hides them under his clothes. The only one he cant hide is the one across his nose, that he got from Aiden during sky city, but he breaks Aiden's nose in return so its all good :3 Other scars come from various random enemies/mobs, but most of them come from failed quicktime events or the witherstorm. ill prolly doodle it out sometime :)

Some of the Jesse's have tattoos! Navy/purple suspenders Jesse has a red witherstorm tattooed on their back, Pink suspenders has misc sleeves and a love for rhinestone/gem-like art, Yellow hair clip has black flowers on her shoulder/back, and Blue hair clip has white doves on her wrists (matching with Petra, who has black crows :3)

After the events of season two, Jesse becomes a bit of a shut in. They still hang out with friends and make public appearances for Beacon town, but the admin left them with a bad reputation, and many people are still mad at Jesse for things they never did. Jesse prefers to stay inside and work on paperwork, have Radar make the public appearances and all that. Lukas is the one who shows up to pull Jesse away and make them rest most of the time, with Jack and Nurm showing up as well as Ivor and Harper visiting every now and then to make Jesse rest.

Jesse doesn't forgive any of their enemies that easily. He gets along with Ivor slowly, building trust and finally *really* trusting him only in episode seven. They start to trust Lukas more in episode four. Aiden isn't forgiven easily, Jesse more-so puts up with him bc Aiden is trying to better himself on his own accord, and Olivia is giving him a chance to change (Aiden comes back to the homeworld and becomes Olivia's apprentice on accident and also they r in love) But its easier for Jesse to forgive Maya and Gill bc they were just loyal to a fault, and are trying to be better people after it all (Plus Jesse grows a soft spot for Maya when he sees the way Radar looks at her [they r also in love]). Jesse has mixed feelings for Cassie Rose, understanding the sentiment and wanting to go home, but despising her for murdering innocent people/trying to kill their friends. Cassie sends Jesse threats every now and then, Jesse almost wishes they could reach out and help Cassie somehow, but at the same time they wouldn't care if Cassie had died in that pit oh so long ago. Jesse used to have mixed feelings about Harper, but Harper risked everything and wasn't REALLY meaning for Pama to go beserk the way it did. Jesse forgives her easily, but is hesitant when she reveals Pama V2 lol. Hadrian and Mevia aren't forgiven. Simple as that lol Jesse hates them. Stella was a rival, but not really an enemy, more so just an annoyance. Jesse doesn't hate her, she does some bad things but comes thru in the end to help. Jesse would've taken her in as a second secretary had she not gone out to work first-hand and help salvage Champion City/help rebuild for the few survivors. He still appoints her as an ambassador and welcomes the survivors to beacontown while they rebuild. Romeo doesn't get forgiveness, most Jesse's will try and leave him to die but those that save him will make him work for redemption, borderline bullying Romeo to be better.

Jesse is a silly lil guy, no matter what :3