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sungbeam · 6 months

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𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧

nonidol!choi san x gn!reader (no prns mentioned)

turns out your upstairs neighbor has a cat who adores climbing through your window — oh, and said neighbor is also fine as hell.

3.7k words, neighbors au (2 lovers), fluff, maybe like two swear words, drinking, lots of mentions of food

a/n: low-key just read this like ur watching the highlight reel of a romcom lol but @jaehunnyy for u 💖 i hope u like it :'))

It all started about seven months ago when a gorgeous Thai cat waltzed into your apartment via the open window. It was a late July afternoon, stiflingly hot and sticky, meaning you had your window opened and the mobile fan set up to blow cool air into the apartment.

You were, for once, not at work. Because the art museum you worked at downtown was currently undergoing reconstruction, you were stuck in your apartment trying (failing) to sell prints off your low-traffic Etsy shop while also trying (failing) to make popsicles.

“Why is this so complicated?” You grumbled aloud as you sat on top of your kitchen counter with your knees pulled beneath your chin. You scrolled down the recipe again on your laptop screen, nose wrinkled at the amount of convoluted steps listed. “Too fancy,” you decided, slamming your laptop lid closed.

Immediately, you hissed, lifting the lid to make sure you hadn't cracked the screen from closing it too hard. Thankfully, there were no cracks visible and you breathed out a sigh of relief. You could not afford a broken—

“Holy shit!” You nearly fell off the back of the island counter at the sight of a light gray cat with black tipped ears, paws, and tail seated on the floor before you.

The cat meowed an innocent greeting.

You pressed your hand to your hammering heart and shifted to get a grip on your position atop the counter. “How—? Where…?” Your eyes drifted to the open window.

Oh. Well, that would explain it.

You glanced back at the cat, who peered up at you once more. “Meow.”

Carefully, you climbed down from the counter as to not scare the creature with any sudden movements. “Hey, baby. Where did you come from, hm?” You cooed, extending your hand out as an offer to be sniffed.

The cat unfurled its tail out from around its body and crept toward your hand. With an experimental sniff, you were deemed safe, and the cat rubbed the side of its face affectionately against the back of your knuckles.

Your chest nearly exploded from the cute interaction. You lowered yourself to your knees, gently taking a peek at the silver charm attached around the collar. There you found the engraving of a star in the metal circle.

“I'm guessing this has something to do with your name?” You hummed, reaching up to scratch the feline behind the ears and head. At least you had an inkling that this little one belonged to someone. You just didn't know how to find out who they were.

“I guess you can hang out with me,” you sighed and stood up with your hands on your hips. You didn't mind the company, after all, and maybe this could be a point of inspiration.

About three hours later, the summer sun still hung relatively high in the sky and you were trying to figure out what to feed the cat when there came a sudden knock at your front door. Really, the “sudden knock” was a series of rushed, panicked DUDUDUDU sounds. You nearly jumped out of your skin for the second time in one afternoon, and even the cat seemed to leap.

Well, the cat only looked mildly annoyed that her nap was interrupted, but she seemed content to give a languid stretch and join you in seeing who was so alarmed at your door.

When you peered out the peephole, your eyes shot open.

There was a pretty man at your door.

You glanced down at the cat who looked back up at you. You mouthed to her, pointing at the door, ‘Do you know this guy?’

As expected, she did not answer. Lovely.

You weren't exactly in appropriate garb to see people. You had thrown on something cool enough to not make you melt like one of the popsicles you weren't able to make earlier, and enough to cover any necessary areas. You were sure your hair looked about as luxurious as a barn, and there wasn't a lick of cosmetics on your face.

It was fine, you told yourself. You probably weren't even going to see this guy ever again.

You opened the door. “Hello? Can I help you?” You asked through the chain linking the door shut.

The man flashed you a flustered, dimpled smile at you. His dark hair was damp, like he just came out of a shower, and he had on a muscle tee that was definitely doing its job, and a pair of basketball shorts. “Hi! So sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you've seen a Thai cat wandering around here about yea high—?”

“Meow.” The cat at your feet shoved her way between the gap you made with the door and out into the hallway.

Your eyes widened another smidge, until the man outside released a gasp of relief and bent down to scoop the feline up into his arms. You unlatched your door and opened it fully now, the man holding the cat to his face as if he was communicating with her telepathically.

“That's the cat, I'm guessing?” You mused.

He tucked her back into his arm and his smile became sheepish. “Yes, I am so sorry about her. I came back home from work and she wasn't in the apartment, but thank you for dealing with her for however long she was here.”

You waved off his concern with your hand, sending him a kind smile. “Don’t worry about it, really. She's adorable. What's her name, by the way?”

“Oh, this is Byeol,” he cooed, lifting Byeol's paw up to wave at you.

Swoon. Your smile widened as you waved back at them both. “Well, it was nice to meet you, both Byeol and…?”

“San,” he answered. God, he was gorgeous. That smile… “And you are?”

“Yn.” You shook each other's hands in the dim hallway light.

“Nice to meet you, too, Yn.” He lit up, pointing up to the ceiling. “Hey, I'm pretty sure I'm your upstairs neighbor!”

You opened the door to your apartment wider so you could show him your open window. “Well, that would definitely explain how she got down onto my fire escape,” you chuckled.

He whistled lowly. “Man, cats are scary sometimes. I'll definitely try to keep an eye on whenever she's near my window now.” He ran the back of his knuckles down Byeol's spine. “I don't wanna take up any more of your time, but thanks again.”

“No worries! Have a nice night.”

“You too!”

San began walking back toward the stairs at the end of the hallway, and you were about to close the door when you thought you heard him chastising his cat in hushed tones. You laughed to yourself as you locked up your front door. You wouldn't mind if Byeol came traipsing down your fire escape again.

And she would. About three times a week when San had a later shift at the boxing gym he worked at (yes, a boxing gym… good lord). Byeol oftentimes expected you to have your window open, and if you didn't already have it open, she would sit out on the fire escape until you did.

Two months into the fire escape escapades, you gave up and left the window open just enough for her to squeeze through while you returned to work.

San would always come down to your apartment to retrieve her, and at some point, decided to swing by your apartment on his way up instead just to make sure she wasn't already here.

By month four when the days were shorter and the nights dragged longer and colder, you couldn't exactly keep the window open, lest you wanted to freeze your ass off in the safety of your apartment. Byeol would hop down the fire escape in the evenings when you were back so you could let her in, only for her owner to come barreling down the stairs, dimpled cheeks flushed and exasperated.

“I swear she likes you more than me,” he guffawed from where he stood out in the hallway as he always did. He shook his head as he watched the Thai feline waltz around his legs once, then circle back into your apartment. He arched a brow at her. “Look at her strutting. She knows exactly what she's doing.”

You swore there was a dash of red gracing his cheekbones now.

You bit your lip through a smile. “Well, you're welcome to come in. I was just about to eat dinner and I don't really think I can finish this roast chicken alone.”

“Ah, I don't really wanna impose,” he drawled, scratching the back of his neck and peering at you from beneath those lengthy lashes of his. He knew what he was doing—he had to know what he was doing. If Byeol could strut, then so could Choi San.

He promised to take you up on your offer as long as you let him run upstairs to grab a bottle of wine to contribute.

The last thing you expected to happen was to hear a knock on your window less than ten minutes later. You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound, folding over in laughter when you saw him waving to you on the other side with cold-bitten cheeks and a red-tipped nose. He clutched a bottle of red in one hand and gestured furiously to the window latch. “It's fucking freezing!”

“Okay, okay,” you grinned, walking over to let him inside. “Just so you know,” you said as Byeol welcomed her owner into your apartment, “usually it's just cats who come in this way.”

“Well, you might have to get used to a cat and a human coming in now,” he teased. San presented you the wine bottle with a flourish. “Milady, your beverage.”

“Why, thank you, good sir,” you jested and accepted the offering. “Make yourself at home!”

What you didn't expect was for such a statement to be taken so literally, and yet, you had no complaints.

Three months further along—making it seven in total since that first hot July day Byeol came in through the open window—you and San (and Byeol) were cooped up in your apartment as usual. It was a Friday night with dinner on the table, a TV show playing in the background, and a pair of wine glasses for the pair of you. Over the past few months, sharing a dinner together had become a weekly event wherein San would come in via window, and the two of you would have the evening together.

Sometimes it was just dinner, sometimes it was dinner and a movie, and sometimes it was even dinner, a movie, and drunk Pictionary. But every Friday night was yours and San's night.

Plus, he turned out to be a much better cook, so you definitely couldn't argue when he somehow wrestled his entire Le Creuset pot down the fire escape to feed you the most divine lobster mac 'n’ cheese you had ever tasted. (As if you'd ever had lobster mac 'n’ cheese before…)

“I feel like it would just be more convenient if I came up to your apartment instead,” you said with enthusiasm, your free arm flailing around as you melted dark chocolate on a double boiler upon the stove top. While San had the right side of the stove for his chicken and gnocchi soup, you had the left to prepare tonight's mousse for dessert. If San made dinner, you figured you could at least learn a thing or two about a dessert course.

He chuckled, “I mean, I'm not opposed if you ever get tired of hosting. I'm kind of a creature of habit though, which is why I don't mind coming down every week, but it's up to you, sweets.”

Oh, right. And the nickname. You couldn't even pinpoint when that started, but again, you weren't complaining.

“I don't mind hosting either,” you told him, “it's just that it's either you leave your super expensive cookware here or I go upstairs. I don't think Le Creuset has fire escape insurance.”

“You're not wrong about that.” You felt his hand gently brush against your waist as he slipped past you to get to the spice cabinet on your left. “Behind you,” he murmured by your ear before grabbing the jar of Himalayan salt (also his) and returning to his station behind his pot.

You couldn't deny the pitter-patter of your heart around him either. Things were coming to a point that you didn't know how to label. But perhaps that was the beauty of everything slipping into place. You carried on, “I think I've seen your apartment once, and that was when Byeol wouldn't stop meowing until I followed you guys.” You laughed to yourself at the memory. That had been an interesting night.

“If it's any consolation, your apartment has much more life in it than mine.”

“That's a lie,” you said pointedly. “Yours is just more meticulous.”

He snorted. “Meticulous. Might as well be as barren as a clinic.”

You passed him a glance. “I offered to paint your walls…”

San beamed back at you, dimples creating divots in the apples of his cheeks. “And I never said no! But—I do think that it should be something the both of us do together.”

Your brows creased as you took the chocolate off the stove to fold into the other mixture you'd set aside. “You wanna paint with me?”

“Yeah,” he said, almost bashfully. “I think it'd be a fun bonding and learning experience. And it would be cool to see you in your element, besides when you're drunk.”

The latter comment had you turning away to laugh. “Fair enough.”

When dinner was ready to be dined, and the mousse was freezing in the fridge, you and San sat at the kitchen island with your matching bowls of hot soup and glasses of lemon water for the night. Neither of you had remembered to buy wine for the week (surprisingly), but one week without alcohol wouldn't hurt.

The two of you clinked your glasses together, toasting to another week survived.

You took a sip, then spooned the soup into your mouth, wiggling around on your stool in a little happy dance as the flavors did their own dance on your tongue.

San smiled around his own bite. He swallowed, then said, “You know, I always know I did well when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“That cute little dance,” he chuckled. “I’m glad it tastes good, is what I'm saying, sweets.”

Your skin warmed, and you managed to convince yourself it was the soup or the heater or something and not the beautiful man beside you. “Then get used to the happy jig, because everything you cook tastes divine. You should be a chef, San.”

“I could've,” he shrugged, “but I kind of like this little life.” He gestured to you with his spoon, a twinkle in his eyes. “Don't you?”

For a moment, you let the smile slowly unfurl onto your lips. You lifted your own spoon in agreement. “You're right. It's a lovely, little life.”

Now that you were in agreement, you fell into a comfortable silence as you both enjoyed your dinner in one another's presence. Byeol was hunched over her own bowl of food just by the foot of your stool, against the adjacent side of the island. You'd gone out and bought her a pair of food and water bowls, as well as her preferred food. San had been touched by the gesture, and Byeol most definitely appreciated it.

San wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Oh, by the way, next week.”

You hummed. “What about it?”

“Are you doing anything?”

You perked up, eyebrows lifting to your hairline. “Why do you ask?” It was usually unsaid by now that Friday nights were set aside for the two of you to share an evening, which was why you were confused by his question.

And then he explained, “It's Valentine's Day, so I just wanted to make sure I didn't interrupt or assume anything.” He'd said it so casually and easily that you nearly missed the slight nervousness in his voice, or the minor intonation of hope. “I mean,” he fumbled, “if you do have something planned, then it's no worries, really. There are plenty of other weeks—”

You shook your head, finishing off your water after having scraped your bowl clean. “I'm not doing anything,” you said. “Well, besides what we usually do.” You chuckled to yourself, “To be honest, Valentine's Day completely slipped my mind this year.”

And if you were truly being honest with yourself, every Friday felt like Valent—no. You shouldn't think like that. It would only make things worse about how you felt for him now. Plus, these past few months with San felt far too casual, too domestic, to be like Valentine's Day. Was Valentine's Day not for grand gestures and romance? This wasn't grand… though, you could probably argue about the romantic part…

“No, I feel the same way,” he nodded. “My friend Wooyoung just asked today if I was up to go to a single's party, which was why I suddenly remembered.”

Ah. “Oh, are you planning on going?” Wine sounded pretty good right about now.

He grimaced. “Probably not. I—I was kind of hoping you wanted to still do dinner next week—but, like, it doesn't have to mean anything besides how it usually is. If that's what you're comfortable with.”

It doesn't have to mean anything besides how it usually is. What if you wanted it to mean more than how it usually was? There was nothing inherently wrong with how it usually was, but you couldn't deny that a part of you yearned for more. That part of you imagined what it was like if San didn't have to come see you via fire escape, and he was always in the same space as you.

There was a pause as you wrestled with your own conscience about how or if you were going to admit it to him.

He pressed his lips together. “I've made you uncomfortable.”

“No, you haven't made me uncomfortable,” you assured him swiftly. “I just…” You sighed, pressing a hand to your forehead then returning it to your lap. “Of course, I would love to have dinner with you next week, but I’d like it to mean something else—if you are comfortable with that.”

You watched as that beautiful smile you'd come to grow more fond of blossom onto his face. “I'd be more than comfortable with that—I’d be really happy with that, actually.”

“Good,” you said softly, unable to bite your own smile away. “Then dinner next week, it is.”

There was something fundamentally different about this next Friday night compared to the others. Specifically, the context by which you and San went into the Friday evening of Valentine's Day was completely different. The apartment was aglow with the same warmth as it usually boasted, but there was a bouquet of blood red roses in a glass vase on the kitchen counter beside a bottle of red wine.

San was at the stove, finishing off the last bit for dinner before it needed to simmer for a good thirty minutes. You were in the living room portion of your apartment, flipping through the vinyl records to play before you pulled one out and set it up. As you moved the needle onto the record, you placed the empty cover back into its slot and turned toward the kitchen.

You froze in your spot, skin warming at the sight of San leaning over the island counter with an adoring look in his eyes as he watched you. “What?” You laughed, subconsciously adjusting the sleeve of your blouse.

“Nothing,” he smiled. “You're just—you’re gorgeous.”

You were sure if your face didn't give it away, there must have at least been hearts floating around your head. “You cannot just say that,” you chided weakly as you walked over to where he was, your expression growing shy.

His smile widened and he rounded the counter to stand in front of you, your back pressed against the edge of the counter. “I can, too,” he teased. He stepped back once and held his arms out, fingers flicking toward him to beckon you forward. “C'mere. Can you dance?”

“Some.” Your eyebrows arched upward as you stepped forward and took his hands in yours. “Dancing and romancing, Choi San? What magic do you hope to enchant me with tonight?” You joked, moving your left hand to his shoulder.

“Perhaps magic that will leave your window open for me on nights other than Fridays,” he said sheepishly as the two of you began to sway to the music waltzing out from the record player. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your fire escape—”

You let out a laugh, ducking your head toward your chests. He did the same, an embarrassed grin coming onto his face as his nose nudged against yours.

“That was god awful,” he winced in apology.

“It was,” you agreed teasingly, “but I'll let it slide because you're cute.”

He shot you a bright smile. “Oh? So I'm cute? I guess that makes two of us.”

You weren't really sure at what point you realized you had fallen for this man. It was sometime between the Himalayan salt lectures and the dancing like an old married couple in your kitchen, maybe. You thought about the day he showed up at your door panicking about a missing cat, and to a future where you might have found yourself in his living room painting murals on his walls. Or perhaps… not his living room, but both of yours.

As you danced with your chests pressed together, hearts beating rapidly in sync, you gazed into those beautiful, dark brown irises of his and sank further and further into those feelings. They were gradually making themselves a home in your chest.

“What're you thinking about, sweets?” He murmured as you tucked your head against his shoulder and the arm he had around your waist rubbed the small of your back.

The smell of his cologne made you inhale deeply. You could get used to this—his smell, the feel of his body under your fingertips, his presence intertwined with yours taking up space in the best possible way. “I'm thinking that Byeol is a good matchmaker.”

His chuckle rumbled through him and softly into your ear. “You're definitely right about that.”

a/n: pls remember to reblog and comment if u enjoyed!

atz m.list

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yzzart · 10 months

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"𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞."

pairing: peacekeeper!Coriolanus x reader.

word count: 2.411!

summary: you would never think you would be brought to a filthy place by Coriolanus.

warnings: +18!, p in v, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, biting, mention of blood, possessiveness, pet names, dirty talk, explicit words, explicit content.

Lucy Gray's enthusiastic voice, used to captivating and enchanting the attention of anyone in the surroundings, was completely muffled and a little inaudible, but impossible to be silenced; the lyrics, which told stories she lived and told, remained understandable. — They were always understandable and manifested.

So, like the citizens, workers and survivors of District 12 who were present in the environment and sang, danced and got in sync with the girl. — Some were drinking, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere, without worrying about their lives and listening to singing.

Perhaps, you would be included at some table, drinking, or not, trying to put something reasonable in your unbearable mind or letting your pride, your envy for, respectively, the winner of district 12 and sing along with her. — And then forget what happened the next day.

Well, that is if Coriolanus hadn't dragged your hand and taken you to an empty, dirty and, terribly, poorly lit corridor with such an inappropriate and filthy intention. — Dirtier than that environment.

"Look at you." — His voice mixed in the song and against its pure poison, the one you were used to delighting in, and a false softness; pretending to care about your sly whining. — "Such a dirty girl, huh?" — A question you wouldn't dare answer, you wouldn't give him that taste.

You knew, he knew, that he was right. — Coriolanus was never wrong; not even when he wanted to be. — The delightful situation you allowed yourself to commit to was indecent, unworthy; risking all the good and distinguished manners he learned at home in the Capital. — And something that, clearly, your parents would be disappointed in their naive daughter.

Coriolanus held and pressed your delicate, vulnerable body on his lap, pinning your back to the old-fashioned, rusty, unfamiliar wall and imposing your legs around his waist. — With the peculiar fact that his cock is buried and so concentrated in your pussy; warming and enveloping him insanely. — The feeling of his clothing fabric caused distress and burned your skin a little, it didn't bother you at all. — His hands grabbed your thighs with determination, forcing, in the future, marks from his fingers in the region.

The young and current peacekeeper was marking every part of your body; even those spots that were not visible and so hidden with clothes.

But who are you kidding when it's a guy you sacrificed your exquisite life for? Even with him severely violating the rules imposed in the game and knowing the risks involved, what would he, in fact, lose in his life. — A proof of love like this was not seen or witnessed in times like these. — And you did it for Coriolanus.

Your conscience was against the fallacies uttered from the melancholic and questioning lips of your parents, who did not assimilate the reason for your decision and request to be transported to where Coriolanus was destined. — They denied it, at first, but they agreed in distress and begged for you to be okay; and even bribing some captain to pay attention and protection to you. — Honestly, you didn't need a miserable captain because you knew who you could count on and who could protect you.

These were the words of Coriolanus, upon learning the story, your first report and confession upon meeting him. — God, you remember every word.

"Did a bird bite your tongue out, my dear?" — He gasped against your sweaty and nibbled neck, and that, for sure, in the next few hours marks would appear on your sensitive area and you didn't know how you were going to hide them. — "Tell me, hm?" — Coriolanus, not satisfied with the previous and present marks, left a long and intense suck and lick on the marked spot.

"Coryo…" — You moaned in a drawn out, almost silent way, running one of your hands through his rough, cut hair; you missed your beautiful and soft curls, that change was terrible and so painful for your eyes. — "Can anyone…" — Taking a deep breath, you tried to find words. — "…appear here."

And you were right, at least there was a reasonable streak of awareness in your mind. — Coriolanus didn't matter, he didn't care, and he wouldn't listen to his words; This was, incredibly, unbearable.

It was a corridor that led to some rooms and, probably, small and mediocre rooms that held drinks and small, ordinary portions of food; therefore, someone could pass by there. — A drunk, a person looking for a calmer environment, a peacemaker or even sweet Lucy Gray looking for you. — Anyone could conceptualize that moment.

"Oh, but it would be quite a spectacle, wouldn't it?" — Coriolanus deepened, even more, his body against your; causing a more sudden and surprising contact of his cock against your pussy. — You two moaned together. — "And deep down in that silly little head of yours, you'd love it." — He took a deep breath, licking the bite he left on his neck. — "I know that, my dear."

Coriolanus deeply hated the attempt to be deceived; the dishonest and undignified way people believe they could lie to him or at least hide what is truly going on in their skin. — He committed such an act, it became too ironic for his tongue. — Snow felt disgusted.

However, he found your attempt to pretend to believe in a certain concern funny; he was delightful, exciting.

Coriolanus's reddened lips, mixed with the taste of your sweat, distributed wet and quick kisses to your lips, which were nibbled and had some rather discreet marks of blood; if he weren't so busy, your lover would scold you for hurting your bold and beautiful mouth. — Before deepening a contact between your lips, Coriolanus curved a sharp smile, as evil as his true thoughts, and releasing a brief laugh that vibrated his chest.

Coriolanus had you in the palm of his hand.

Wasting no time, Coriolanus joined your lips against his, crushing and sucking them; forming such an obscene and inappropriate kiss accompanied by wet noises and whimpers. — Coriolanus's poisonous tongue moved, abruptly and rudely, through your mouth, as if he didn't know it, and fought for space, a domination that had no conditions to exist. — There were quick and anxious contacts between teeth, but nothing that could interrupt you.

Your hand remained in his coarse hair, while the other rested on his clothed shoulder. — You wanted, more than anything, to mark that arrogant man; and you wanted until the end to be able to leave at least a simple scratch.

When disconnecting his lips from yours, Coriolanus runs his teeth across your lower lip, biting and pulling, not exaggeratedly, at it. — Your mouth is shining, his too, from the mixing and distribution of saliva. — And the deep, vigorous, petulant blue eyes of Coriolanus looked at them with insatiable desire; as if he truly wanted to devour them. — As if a serpent saw its fragile and naive prey.

That man, for whom you would destroy your life for, was the very plumbing and aspect of one of the worst things that world could fear and observe. — And Coriolanus will do everything to ensure that your exquisite presence is at his side.

"When i'm done…" — Coriolanus cursed, shaking his head, moving his hips and returning to continuing the slow, silent thrusts. — "…when i'm fucking done with all this shit." — He tried to form a concrete sentence, finding words, but not using them in an appropriate and understandable way. — "I will make you the first lady of Panem."

Coriolanus groaned, so loud and noisy, and without any kind of shame; feeling your greedy and delicious pussy squeeze his cock with pleasure, even in a somewhat compromising position. — His voice sounded so vulnerable, a little miserable, and feeling corrupted by the spasms you attributed to him. — For the satisfaction you gave with this, in the future, title.

A title so promising, prestigious and respectable that it would quickly become his alone; fitting your name, as if it were created just for you. — Perfect.

"My first lady." — Another thrust, this time, deep and sudden; you felt, insanely, the veins and pulsations of Coriolanus's cock, you felt him completely. — "Just mine." — Your lover's possessiveness exclaimed in your ears, releasing whimpers and moans so needy and tremulous from your lips.

The noise of clothes clashing with little noise between the movements of Coriolanus's hips against your didn't bother either of your, just a mediocre desire to feel your flesh struggle against each other, freely. — Oh, but this wish can still be fulfilled during the late night or early morning. — Your body was so pressed, dominated by the young peacekeeper; your needy little hole was crushing against his dick.

You were accepting of him so well, you always did. — Coriolanus did not hold back or hide his groans and grunts, and your name was hummed from his lips like a snowflake at his introduction; even he couldn't contain himself and it was, ridiculously, contradictory. — He felt sensitive, completely, enchanted by you, even though he didn't believe in such beliefs.

"Coryo…" — Your lips were half-open, so red and irresistible, it seemed like they had the intention and objective of driving that young man crazy, calling out his name. — "My love…" — Your head was dizzy, a pure mess.

Normally, Snow felt a deep, burning and bitter disgust at hearing those last words coming from other people's lips; hard to disbelieve that it was worth listening to or being called that way. — So much affection, passion and destruction at the same time. — But, hearing and witnessing your genuine and admirable voice calling him that? In such an erotic, promiscuous and libertine tone. — Coriolanus mentally desired more; like always.

A trembling sensation, almost a contraction in your stomach accompanied by a somewhat bearable and pleasurable tingling began to form; and your lungs found it difficult to breathe, turning you into a panting mess. — And your eyes, completely, heavy and almost closing.

Coriolanus recognized this. — First than you.

"Coryo, i…" — You paused, trying to breathe. — "…i'm so close." — It was stupid to warn him, or guide him, about this because that damned young man knew it; and he knew your body better than you did.

Coriolanus didn't utter a word, and preferred to remain still trapped and focused on you, feeling you. — The blue eyes contemplated your image, which remained majestic even in such an impure situation; wanting to engrave it in his mind forever. — Soon, he sank your lips in a wet and captivating kiss against his, swallowing your loud moans; this time, Coriolanus kissed gently, a little gentle with a touch of fervor.

The peacekeeper pressed your body even more against the wall, squeezing your thighs tighter, as if he was looking for firmer support; Coriolanus was also close to cumming. — The thrusts became more sloppy and dedicated to releasing your orgasm and you moaned uncontrollably against the man's lips. — No one cared anymore about the fact that someone appeared in the region. — Your body burned, and it wasn't just from the unmistakable and unbearable heat.

Your walls spasmed through your body and pulsed against Coriolanus' cock, and the feeling of relief formed in your stomach; the feeling of liberation. — Your eyes closed, tightly and forcefully, along with a small crushed scream that was released through your lips; you reached your peak, cumming on Coriolanus's cock. — Giving yourself completely to him; reveling in your pleasure and passion for Snow.

You would be the death of him, and at risk, Coriolanus would never admit it out loud, never could confess; but, he was sure that you were the point of his weakness, of his instability. — Coriolanus would risk arresting, preserving you so that nothing wrong could happen to you and, above all, to him. — And when he admires your pleasure dripping down his mediocre pants, that the only thing that came out of your mouth was his name, Coriolanus feels his blood heat, somewhat ironically.

He feels like he's in a place he's never been, never had the opportunity to be; if it was paradise, then you were his. — The only one that mattered. — Coriolanus' mind begins to weaken and weigh down, feeling increasingly tired; wanting to bury himself deeper into your pussy.

Feeling your fingers on the back of his neck, you lightly run your nails over the area covered in sweat and hot, bringing a shiver to the young man's body. — Your still dazed and confused eyes watched Coriolanus swallow hard, so tense and almost collapsing. — Soon, falling apart inside you.

Your walls were filled with Coriolanus' warm seeds, such a pleasant sensation, feeling so full and yet so safe in his arms. — Making you actually forget where you were. — And you choke when you feel another movement of Coriolanus's hips, he was pushing his cum into you even more.

The young peacekeeper still felt tense, basking in you, and not wanting to leave the position he was in; still, completely, grabbed and pressed against your body. — Feeling the spasms of your body that gave him.

"Your first lady?" — You whispered, a little breathless but regaining normality in your breathing, still so tired as you ran a hand over Coriolanus's red and bright face. — He grunted, sucking his teeth and swallowing once again.

"My first lady." — He confirmed, determined, with his deep and still rough voice, trying to compose himself and pretend a completely non-existent naturalness and that at some point, during dawn, he will have to return to his filthy and reckless work.

The music continued, but the voice was unfamiliar and a little out of tune and the instrumentals were much noisier and out of control. — Lucy Gray ended her performance, it seemed, and gave entrance to another voice; perhaps, it was someone from the Covey singing in her place for a short period of time. — Sometimes they did that. — It wasn't strange, however, the house was full and so welcoming and she was a special attraction; the only.

Something wasn't right, or it was just an intrusive thought wanting to run through your heavy head. — Where had that girl gone, then?

Until, at a certain and coincidental moment, footsteps were made and echoed through the corridor, causing an unconditional and alarming noise from the shoes; which, in fact, were heels, probably worn out and so well used. — Everything indicated that the person had left, leaving the place but with witnesses of her shoes. — And this caused an acceleration in your heartbeat.

Perhaps, that would have answered your question.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus #snow #tom blyth #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x reader smut #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x reader smut #coriolanus smut #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus imagine #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes

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zyogod · 4 months

Text

The Part-timer

Tags: rough sex, public sex , female idol x you, other universe story , story building

Starring: Newjeans Pham Hanni

3,631 words

Part-time barista in the morning, Major music student. Pham Hanni has a full life and doesn't care about it

Hanni would smile politely as she gets yelled at and scolded by her boss in the cafe. That's fine, she has a punching bag at home where she can take out her stress. The only reason she can't seem to quit this job is because it's the only place where she can see and talk to you.

"Gonna order your usual?" She asked, gazing at you with her almond eyes.

"My usual order? You means your pretty smile?" I try to flirt with her

"You wish" she chuckled as she leaned against the counter, crossing her arms as she gave that little smile of hers. She was wearing a simple gray blouse, tucked into her black jeans. Although it was too hot to be wearing anything thick, her usual uniform of work consisted mostly of layers of clothing that didn't really show off her figure.

"Although i never see you in casual revealing clothes hanni, hopefully i can see what underneath that blouse" Then i giggle to make it not too obvious

Her eyes narrowed as she saw your giggling reaction, she knows what you really want to see. Hanni leaned forward as she reached her bottom part of her blouse, and lift off her blouse, revealing her small waist and bit of her toned abs under that blouse like you imagined she would

"You happy with what you see, handsome?" She asked, her hands rested on her hips.

"Maybe if you lift that blouse little further i would really appreciate that" I said to her while looking around to make sure only both of us inside the cafe.

Hanni raised her eyebrows as she smirked.

"That desperate, huh?" She chuckled and she slowly lifted her gray blouse, letting you have a good look at her curves B cups sized pair of boobs.

I just stared at it mesmerized "quite small but looks nice and pliable" I said with a little laugh

Hanni lowered her gray shirt and stretched her right hand towards me and tried to hit me even though she missed "Shibal! It's good that I showed you, you're insulting my cute breasts" she yelled at me.

I stepped back and said, "calm down, don't get mad, I was just joking." Hanni pouted her mouth and glared at me, like I had gone too far in teasing her, "okay okay, I'll make it up to you" I said to comfort her.

Hanni took a deep breath as you stepped back, the blush on her cheeks grew even more red, she's clearly a little embarrassed by your teasing

"You better make it up to me" she said in a half-joking way. After all, she did kind of like the way you were looking at her.

I said all my orders to hanni and went to the outdoor area of the cafe so that I could enjoy my order later while smoking.

Hanni nodded as you placed your order and went outside to smoke. She got to work making your order, pouring the coffee into the cup and adding the cream and sugar just the way you like it. She also put a small slice of cake on the saucer to accompany your coffee.

A few minutes later, Hanni came outside to deliver your order, setting it down in front of you with a smile.

"So can i order you to be with me too, if that's can be on the bills?" smiling looking at her

Hanni's cheeks flushed as she heard your pick-up line, she wasn't expecting that. She couldn't help but chuckle as she raised her eyebrows, pretending to think.

"Hm.. I don't know.. Do you have enough money to pay for me?" she asked playfully, crossing her arms as she looked at you with a teasing smile

looking at her with little smirk

"How much Pham hanni service cost just only for having chit chat for loyal customer like me?"

Hanni pretended to think for a moment, tapping her chin with her finger.

"Well, as a special offer for my most loyal customer, I think a small donation of 20 dollars will suffice for some chit chat." She said with a mischievous smile, holding her hand out.

"How if i wanted more? There's any extra charge?" trying to following her games

"Oh, you're a very greedy customer, I see" she chuckled. She pretended to think again and then spoke up with a suggestive smile.

"I suppose if you want a little extra, I could indulge you. How much more are you willing to pay?"

In truth, Hanni actually doesn't plan on taking any money from you. She just wants to play along and see where this could go.

"Depends on how much i can get from those small Vietnamese petite body" I flirted with her more boldly.

As you spoke, Hanni's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, her heart racing from your words. She couldn't believe how boldly you're flirting with her.

"You're quite daring, aren't you?" She asked with a smirk, trying to retain her confident demeanor.

"But I'm afraid I'm not for sale. But if you come back tomorrow, perhaps I'll give you something special for free" she teased as she turned on her heels and walked back inside with a little wiggle in her step

scoffing after hearing her offers

"Tomorrow? That's too long, how about after your shift ended?"

Hanni giggled at your impatience, she's finding this little game quite amusing.

"Now you want to get special service outside of my shift? I'm not sure if you can afford that, handsome" she teased, leaning her back on the counter with her arms crossed, giving you a smirk.

"Perhaps there's another way you can convince me?".

Pointing out the huge bulge in my pants to her "pretty good deal? Or do you still want another bonus?"

Hanni’s eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of your bulge, feeling her cheeks burn even more red as she tried not to look down again.

"You're not playing fair, you know that?" She said in a half-jesting, half-serious tone as she bit her lip, her heart racing.

"I can't just do what you tell me to, I'm at work."

"How much your payment in this cafe for a day?" I ask her, this is maybe too much but it will be never hurt anyone to try it.

Hanni sighed as she knew she wouldn't be able to hide her wage from you.

"It's about 20 dollars daily" she said softly, feeling a bit embarrassed as she knew that’s not a high wage

"And before you say anything, no, I can't give you special services outside of my work hours for 20 dollars a day" she added with a small huff.

she's really played well to be hard to get out of sudden "how about 200 dollars for a night?"

Hanni's breath hitched at the number you said, 200 dollars is a lot more than what she makes for a days work at the cafe.

"200? That is a huge amount" she said softly, contemplating. She couldn’t deny that she’s pretty low on money, not knowing if she’ll be able to pay for her rent by next month…

"You know maybe that's will be an easy money for university students like you" I smile mischievously.

Hanni's eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and uncertainty at your offer. She knew that she needed the extra money, but she was conflicted about accepting this offer.

"I…I don't know about this, you can't just offer me such a high amount in exchange for-" she trailed off, her cheeks flushing as she thought about what implications that would carry.

Before she's done with her words i cut her down "im paying for your dinner latter" i can't let her leaving the bait.

Hanni's eyes widened again as you cut her mid-sentence, she wasn't expecting you to counter her worries like that. She was torn between her morals and the temptation of the money you're offering.

"So wait, are you really asking me to-" she began to ask, her heart pounding in her chest.

She thought about it a little more, weighing her options. She knew that this money could be an solution to her financial troubles and pay her college tuition.

"Well, you're treating me to dinner as well? Where are we eating? Something fancy, I hope." She finally said, a small mischievous smile playing on her lips.

"Which restaurant that college student favorite just say it" actually i don't know if she trying to push her luck or not, but who cares? It's good bargaining for me after all.

"Hoho, are you spoiling me now?" She chuckled as she put a finger on her chin, pretending to think about her favorite restaurant.

"Well, actually there's this nice Japanese restaurant not too far from here. They have some great sashimi and sushi. But it's a bit pricey. Is that okay with you?".

"That's fine I'll take you there as long i get what i want and you doesn't disappointed me with your service, at least i can guarantee the 200 dollars" i said to her

Hanni's heart was racing as she listened to your words. She couldn't believe that she was going along with this, but she knew that the money was something she desperately needed.

"Alright, you have a deal. But remember, I expect you to treat me well too, handsome. Can't have my night ruined by a bad date" she said, trying to maintain her cheeky attitude.

Waving my hand to her "don't worry".

Hanni nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. She couldn't believe that she was going to do this, but the thought of a nice dinner and some extra money was enough for her to look past any doubts.

"Okay, it's a date. But for now, let me finish my shift, okay? I'll meet you at the restaurant later" she said with a smile.

Im just nodding to her words.

Hanni returned to work, her mind still racing with thoughts of what the night might hold. She watched the clock closely, every passing minute feeling like an hour, just waiting for her shift to end.

"One more hour..." she whispered to herself as she tended to the customers, her heart beating a little faster with anticipation for the evening to come.

Without anyone realize one hour has been passed and i was waiting her behind the cafe in the small alley right after the cafe hanni work on.

Hanni finally emerges from the cafe, her shirt slightly disheveled from the long shift. She takes a moment to catch her breath, feeling a mix of exhaustion and excitement for her date with you. As she looked around, she spotted you waiting in the alley and approached you with a soft smile.

"Hey" she said quietly, her cheeks flushing a tiny bit.

Found her in my sight "yo, you looks little bit tired but kinda hot after works, with little sweat on you" teasing her since she's looking pretty even after few hours shift.

Hanni's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red at your comment and she chuckled softly, trying to maintain her cool demeanor.

"So you think I look hot, even after a sweaty shift at work? You really are something, aren't you?" she said coyly, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. She can't seem to hide her smile every time you tease her.

Suddenly I grabbed her left wrist and pulled her towards me and kissed her forehead

"Of course, has anyone ever made fun of a sweet girl like you?" I silently wrapped my arms around her waist while squeezing her small, supple butt.

Hanni gasped in surprise as you pulled her towards you, her heart racing at the sudden display of affection. She was caught off guard, but she eagerly leaned into the kiss on her forehead

"N-no one has ever treated me like this before" she managed to say, her cheeks flushed

Her breath hitched as you squeezed her butt, feeling her legs tremble a little from the intimate touch.

Focusing on her eyes.

"So, what do men usually treat you like? Like an adorable little slut? If that's the case, isn't it a little kinky? " I teased her.

Hanni cheeks burned as she heard your teasing comment, but there was a hint of truth to it. She knew she often attracted the attention of men who saw her as a small, innocent girl.

"Well, sometimes they do treat me like that" she responded softly, feeling her heart flutter as you looked into her eyes.

"I...I guess I kind of like it a little" she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

After hearing her like that , i pushed her against the nearest wall and kissed her lustfully on the lips while my hands groped all over her body.

Hanni's breath hitched as you pushed her against the wall, her body responding immediately to your touch. Her lips met yours in a hungry kiss, her fingers running through your hair as she melted into your embrace.

She moaned softly as your hands roamed over her body, feeling their touch sending shivers down her spine. She wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you closer as she deepened the kiss, losing herself in the moment.

After a few moments, you finally broke the kiss, both of you panting with desire. Her cheeks flushed and her heart racing, she looked up at you with a small smile.

"That was... incredible" she confessed as she caught her breath, leaning her head against your chest.

"This is just the beginning" I told her as I unbuttoned her shirt as quickly as possible and threw it somewhere, followed by taking off her bra.

Once her upper body was exposed, I immediately directed my lips to her chest and savored her breasts that didn't look too big but looked very cute and soft.

Hanni gasped as you quickly undid her shirt and removed her bra, feeling a rush of excitement and a hint of embarrassment as her upper body was exposed out in the open public space for the first time "oh my god we're in public, let's get a room first" she said with worrying tone.

Releases my lips from her breast for a few moments "don't worry no one will find us in this small alley" I reassure her.

Hanni's worries subsided as you reassured her, her body already craving your touch. She whispered, her voice barely audible as she gave in to the moment.

"Okay, just be careful, please" she moaned softly as you continue. Her fingers tangled in your hair as she arched her back, her breathing growing heavier with your touch.

After enjoying her supple breasts, I turned Hanni's body to face the wall and pulled down her jeans and panties, while spanking her ass.

"Time for my main course" I said in a slurty voice.

Hanni squealed in surprise as I slapped her soft little ass while looking at me over her shoulder "you want to do it here? It's a public place" she started to worry.

"Don't worry, I'll do it quickly" I told her.

Hanni couldn't help but be a bit overwhelmed by everything. Her mind was still trying to process the fact that she was letting you to fuck her glistening cunt in public.

Holding her hips from behind, I began to thrust my cock into her wet hole as hard as I could until I reached the end of her womb.

Hanni was surprised by my action of directly inserting my dick into her fuck hole suddenly without giving her time to adjust her pussy walls to the size of my dick, which made her feel split in two and made her feel pain and pleasure at the same time.

"Arkhh ahh ah oppa you're too rough, you'll tear my pussy if you keep fucking me like this" Hanni whines.

I keep pounding her roughly and moving my hands to her pair of tits too squeeze it hard as a handle for me to hold her in place

"I'm just make sure to make my money worth Hanni, you will get used to it soon" Keeping my pace to fuck her like a slut and keep squeezing her boobs hard with pulling her nipples.

The pain she feels is unbearable, Hanni starts to rolled her eyes because of the pain but gets pleasure from the rough sex she is experiencing, "Oppa you are going to break me, please be more gentle aaarkhhhh!!!" Unfortunately her body's reaction doesn't match her words, Hanni reaches her first orgasm as you fuck her like a whore.

When I felt Hanni having her first orgasm, I immediately pulled my cock out of her pussy so that she could squirt her cum in relief.

A few seconds had passed, Hanni's body was getting limp after squirting but I held her body while my hands still squeezed her breasts firmly and reinserted my cock into her pussy hole.

"I'm not done yet, you better not lose your spirit yet Hanni" I went back to fucking her roughly and lustfully like i was possessed.

Hanni was getting tired and losing her mind with all the treatment she was receiving from me.

She had begun to surrender to whatever was happening even though she was being fucked out in the open like a cheap whore.

All that was left were indistinct sighs and moans as she felt pleasure or pain.

After thirty minutes had passed, I started to feel close to reaching my orgasm

"Hanni, I'm going to cum where you want me to cum?" I said to her while adjusting the tempo of my movements in fucking her.

Hanni with eyes that were only half open and panting replied "Anywhere, you can cum inside me" Hanni said while stammering.

Hearing her words, I immediately pushed my cock as deep as I could against the tip of her womb and erupted my orgasm, filling her womb with my hot cum until her womb was full.

On the other hand Hanni screamed in pleasure, "Oppa!!! It's so full, take your cock out immediately! !!" She pleaded with her back arched backwards trying to release her pussy from my cock and relax herself.

After my cock was out of her pussy, Hanni pressed against the wall in front of her and bent limply but her body shook violently.

It turned out that she had a second orgasm and squirted very hard, releasing my sperm along with her love juices.

I as a man watching from behind was just amazed and satisfied to see the image of Hanni's pussy that looked melted while decorated with my sperm flowing out of her and the rest of her love juices.

I spanked her ass which was still shaking slightly

"Isn't this a nice sex experience, Hanni?" She seemed to be still standing on her knees with heavy breathing and did not respond to my words.

Hanni scoffed "good for you but not for me, this will be the first and last time I sell my own pussy for 200 dollars," she said as she slowly took back her jeans and panties.

Before she could put on her jeans and panties, I stepped on them to prevent her from putting them back on, "Why is that? Isn't that worth it? You even orgasmed twice because of this big cock of mine, didn't you?" I asked her in a somewhat annoyed tone.

Hanni glared at me "You're right, I cum twice because of that big dick of yours, but I was also in pain, so the pleasure I got wasn't worth the pain I felt, not to mention you fucked me like a cheap whore in this little alley," Hanni said annoyed.

I laughed at that "Come on it's no big deal, next time I'll do it gently, let me make it up to you, as promised, let's go to the restaurant you want" I took my foot off her jeans and panties and let Hanni put her clothes back on.

After Hanni finished putting her clothes back on, she stood in front of me while opening her palms "Give me my 200 dollars," Hanni said with a flat tone and annoyed face.

To avoid her irritation, I immediately gave her the money.

Hanni took the money I gave her and put it in the pocket of her jeans, then she looked into my eyes as one hand stroked the cock of mine that already warped inside my jeans, feeling the bulge in them.

"You enjoying the service right?" She suddenly spoke to me.

I nodded "Of course Hanni you are a very delicious little slut" I told her.

In a move I never expected, Hanni directed her hand that had been stroking the bulge in my jeans towards my balls and squeezed it hard, "Feels so good huh? How about this one, asshole, still feels good? Can you feel this little slut squeezing your balls?" Hanni yelled at me.

Feeling my balls being squeezed with full force by her made me reflexively squat down and hold her hand to reduce the force of the squeeze "Hanni please d-oo-on't" I said with a stutter while enduring the pain of my balls.

Hanni released her grip on my balls and slapped my face with all her might, "You asshole! Don't show your face in front of me again!" Then she left me to go.

And me on the other hand just stood frozen in place and tried to process everything that happened in this small alley.

Author note

Hopefully you guys can enjoy this first while waiting The lecture :)

#kpopsmut #hanni smut #newjeans smut

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soft-girl-musings · 7 months

Text

Salt & Pepper

Moon Knight System x GN!Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: rated T for teasing, domestic fluff, author does not condone touching people's hair without permission, no use of Y/N

wc: 1,078

fic summary: Marc, are you familiar with the term "silver fox"?

A/N: i might have a problem lol

_____________________

“Put. It. Down.”

Marc Spector does not startle easily. So when he nearly falls from his perch beside the bathtub, you’re surprised you have to steady him.

“Jesus, where’s the fire?” Marc picks up the towel and small cardboard box he’d dropped because of your outburst.

Shifting your focus, you zero in on the latter: hair dye, just as you’d suspected.

“So this is what you get up to when I’m away?” You tut, cradling his temples and shaking your head. "What happened to you?"

"What? Nothing, I'm-"

"-I wasn't talking to you," you sigh, resting your forehead against the crown of his head. "How long has he been treating you like this, you poor things?"

“Ha-ha.”

You release his face to study it. "But seriously, how long have you been dying your hair?”

“... For a couple of years. Started to turn gray from stress a while back, and I guess it never stopped.” He fidgets with the loose edge of the container.. “You really never noticed?”

You take the box and set it beside him. “You hid it well.”

You’re not judging him for dying his hair, it’s just… surprising. Marc’s never been one to fuss over his appearance, as far as you could tell. When you first saw his closet, you’d half expected it to be lined with the same outfit ten times, like in a cartoon. Most days, “dressing up” means adding a jacket or blazer.

“Since when do you care? About your hair, I mean.”

He shrugs. “I’m not gettin’ any younger, honey.”

“Neither am I.” You kiss the bridge of his nose. “You got a problem with that?”

“Of course not.”

“Good. Goes double for me, don’t you forget it.” Leaning in, Marc tries for another kiss, but you duck and grab the hair dye before turning away with a mischievous smirk.

“Gotta keep you honest,” you wink and dart out of the room before he can catch you.

_____________________

"Love?"

"Hm?"

"Might fall out if you keep playing with it like that.”

You’d been standing behind Steven for the past couple of minutes, meaning to check in on his preparations for his morning tour but had gotten distracted. Very distracted.

“Sorry,” you sigh, your fingers leaving the wisps of hair at the nape of his neck and trailing down to his shoulder. “It’s just… hm.”

Your conversation with Marc must have taken root: over the past few weeks, you’ve noticed the hair that had been dangerously close to another round of boxed dye abuse steadily turning lighter. A subtle blend of silver strands mix with the darker curls that frame his face, making his hair shine a bit brighter in the light of the desk lamp.

“It’s like starlight,” you finally state, leaning in to rest your head against his.

Steven sputters and puts his book aside. “Starli- that’s a bit much, yeah?” His brow furrows, but there’s no denying the smile tugging at his lips.

“Not if it’s true,” you contend. You adjust the reading glasses that had slid down his face and tuck a stray curl behind his ear. “It’s a good look on you.”

There’s no denying the heat rising to his cheeks when you talk. “This– you don’t–” Steven caves and sets his book down, hopelessly flustered. “Either go away or get over here. Cheeky.”

He makes room for you to settle into his lap, which you giddily accept. Your hands sink back into his curls and he shivers as you scratch his scalp.

“Did I ever tell you I had a thing for my professor, once upon a time?”

“Oh my days–”

You’re not sure who kisses who, but you’re certainly not complaining. Neither is he.

_____________________

The time apart has been agony.

You check your phone for the fifth time this evening. They’ve been gone for what feels like months (it’s been weeks) handling some business in California, of all places. Marc said he’d call when they were on their way home, meaning no news is sad news.

You’re pulled from your pity party by a knock on the door. It’s late, and you’ve already signed for your dinner delivery. Slowly, you get up and grab the bat you keep by the entrance (with a sock slipped over the end per Jake’s advice).

The knocking continues, getting more urgent. You take a deep breath and look through the peephole. A large brown eye stares back and you yelp, dropping your bat. The unmistakable boom of Jake’s belly laughter mocks you from behind the door.

“You’re hilarious,” you groan, standing the bat back on its head and unlocking the door.

You’re ready to lay into him when you open the door, but you’re stunned into silence. Jake’s smile is highlighted by silvery stubble, dusted with black. He adjusts his cap as his dark eyebrows raise in mock surprise.

“What, no hello?”

You tear your eyes away from his jaw. “Hm? Oh. Hi.” You open the door wider for him to step in. “Marc said you’d call first.”

“No fun in that, is there? Besides, you looked ready to handle some trouble.” he shrugs off his coat as you lock the door behind him.

“Trouble, yes. Nuisance, debatable.” You sidle up to him and drape your arms around his waist. You place a kiss on his cheek; it’d be impossible for him to not notice how you let yours drag along the rough line of his jaw.

“I missed you too,” he laughs again. “But man, is it warm in here…”

He tosses his cap and it takes everything in him to not lose it when your eyes widen at the sight of his hair, now more gray than black and curls longer than you’ve seen them before. You’re too enraptured to be embarrassed at your obvious loss for words.

“Your hair…” You reach up to touch it, but Jake grabs your wrist.

“Tsk, tsk, you threaten and barely say a word to me, then go straight for the goods without so much as a ‘please’? What happened to decorum, hm?”

“You fucking tease,” you huff. “...please?”

“Well, since you asked nicely–” Jake can barely finish his thought before your lips are on his, your hand tangled in his starlit hair as soon as he lets go.

“I take it we should cancel Marc’s haircut?” he murmurs as you catch your breath.

Your free hand grazes the scruff on his cheek and you grin. “I wouldn’t complain if you did.”

_____________________

A/N: marvel you cowards give us gray-haired moon knight

ty for reading <3

event tags:@moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

addtl tags: @mrs-lockley @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi @nerdieforpedro @queerponcho (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

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s6ngbird · 9 months

Text

pretty little dove — coriolanus snow ༘❀⋆

♡‧₊ warnings — nsfw, p in the v, pretty much no plot, unprotected sex, kinda dub-con(?), coryo being mean

♡‧₊ pairing — peacekeeper!coryo x fem!reader

♡‧₊ a/n — erm i'm still new to this whole warning stuff so lmk if i forgot stuff 😭

masterlist | bc: @cafekitsune

when coriolanus came to district 12, he had one goal in mind, to find lucy gray

but now that he was here and had seen lucy gray again, he realized he didn't much care for her anymore

his eyes were now set on you, a poor district girl who was just trying to steal some food to feed herself until he caught you

and you fled, checking every minute or so behind you to make sure the peacekeeper wasn't following you

and you didn't see anyone thank god, you didn't know that coriolanus had let you off the hook this time but he knew he was going to have you either way

what you didn't know is that over time, as you started getting mysterious packages with food, was that coriolanus had been watching you and memorizing your schedule

some might call it stalking, but to coryo, he was just watching out for you

who knows what could happen if he left you alone, what if some creep started stalking you?

you decided to cross the district line one day, after being told by lucy gray about how nice and peaceful it was

as you walked through the tall grass, picking up a flower and looking its pretty colors, it reminded you of the certain peacekeeper who had let you go that one day and how blue his eyes were

your happiness is cut short though, seeing a shadow fall over you and looking up to see that it was the certain peacekeeper

“you want to explain yourself sweetheart?” he said, crouching down so that he could be eye to with you

“i was just trying to have some peace, y'know the district isn't the best place?” you said, not scared of him, why should you be?

he chuckled, moving a piece of your hair and standing up

“i like you, but you know acting like that and crossing the district line is going to get you in trouble, hm?”

you stood up and smiled at him

“well i'm glad you were the one who caught me” you say, getting ready to leave before coriolanus kisses you hard, catching you off guard and quickly pulling away

“well i’ll see you later dove, don't let me catch you here again” he said with a smirk, and with that he left

you were stunned, unsure what that was, you had never realized that it could be possible that a peacekeeper could like a district girl

but hey there's always a first time for everything

just like being fucked for the first time, out in the forest against a tree by the same peacekeeper who had warned you not to cross the district line again

and of course you paid no heed to his words, why would you? it's not like he was going to personally hunt you down if you did

wrong.

you also thought that he didn't like you and just wanted to turn you in

also wrong.

he was currently kissing you hard, his tongue exploring your mouth as one of his hands was rolling your nipple between his fingers, after he had ripped your thin shirt off

you cried at first when this all happened but then you felt his cock enter your soaking cunt you fell silent

this would be the first time you had ever been fucked before and it was obvious to coryo

“shit dove, loosen up for me will you? you’re so fucking tight, gripping me like a damn vice” he said, after getting his whole cock in while you kept clenching

you didn’t say a thing, you just tried to relax, but then he started moving at an unforgiving pace, breaching your cervix every so often as you gripped his shoulders, digging your nails through the fabric

your legs started shaking and you felt tears rolling down your cheeks and coryo noticed this, laughing as you continued to slam into you, chasing his release

he licked up your tears, reaching a hand between you two to rub your clit in order to make you come faster

coryo might not be the best man, but he’s willing to make sure you also get some pleasure through him (he just wants you to enjoy it so he can do it again later)

he fucks into you harder, kissing you over and over again to distract you from any pain or discomfort he might be causing you

you start to feel something building up and it scares you since you had never had the experience of being fucked by anyone, let alone someone like coryo

“oh my fucking god” you feel a knot snap as you come undone on his cock, your legs shaking even more as you cling onto to coryo for dear life

he holds you up, his touch is gentle which is quite opposite of how he fucking you and laughing at your reactions

“no more please” you say, feeling tired as coryo continued to slam into you, eliciting broken moans from you

his hips stutter and you feel something warm coat your insides, the color draining from your face as he pulls out, still holding you up and shoving his fingers in to make sure all of his cum stays in

you let out a moan as he does but he quickly takes his fingers out, shoving them in another hole, your mouth, making you taste his cum

“yeah…lick it up you dirty little slut, you gonna be mine now hm?”

#🎀 — fics #tom blyth #tom blyth fluff #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth smut #tom blyth imagine #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x you #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #young coriolanus snow

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malereadermaniac · 2 months

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Daddy ~ Kakashi Hatake x Male Reader

A belated Father's day imagine/drabble with your sexy boyfriend SFW! NO SMUT!! word count: 600 m!reader (no genitalia mentioned) / FDNI

Boyfriend!Kakashi going out on a regular old date with you; his cute, sexy, lovable boyfriend. The ninja ensuring to enjoy one of his few days off with you, having spent most of the morning chilling in bed with you (along with doing some other things with you in that bed), and now strolling through the village centre with you.

Boyfriend!Kakashi spoiling you, he gets paid a hefty sum for protecting the village and teaching youngsters, so why would the man not share his wealth with his beloved? The muscular man ensures to tease you when looking through new clothing imports, trying on clothing which shows off his killer body to make you blush, and making you give him a little fashion show in feminine Kimonos or revealing outfits.

Boyfriend!Kakashi who notices a lot of families out on this random day, watching with a smile under his mask as little boys and girls run around the street with their parents behind them. Very quickly, Kakashi puts two and two together, after noticing that it was mostly dads out with their kids and also seeing a few advertisements in shop windows, that the village was celebrating fathers day!

Boyfriend!Kakashi who can't stop thinking sappy, domestic thoughts! The gray-headed ninja fantasising about raising a little runt with you; thinking about feeling a wave of relief when he hears a high-pitched voice shouting 'dad!' and seeing you cooking up a meal for your family as he walks through the door, coming from a tiring day.

Boyfriend!Kakashi who isn't verbally the sappiest guy, so he decides to vocalise his cute, fluffy thoughts of raising a family with you in a jokey sense; a jokey, naughty sense.

"Hey, (Y/n), my darling~" the handsome man starts "Hm? What's up with you?" you respond, immediately weirded out by your boyfriend's sappy tone "How come you never tell me 'happy father's day'?" Kakashi questions, a comedic pout visible through the man's translucent, mesh mask "....'Cause you're not a dad?" Your expression just becomes more quizzical, your confusing boyfriend's glimmering eyes giving away that he was planning to say some stupid, pervy joke "Then how come you sometimes say to me 'Ah~ Daddy!'-" "OI! SHUSH!" you shout, moving your hands up to your annoyingly loud boyfriend's mouth to prevent him from publicly embarrassing you some more

Boyfriend!Kakashi who gets scolded for a solid 15 minuets after his very well executed joke, but just doesn't care; cause the embarrassed, cute look on his boyfriend's face and your angry voice are so worth it. And that isn't the only moment where Kakashi nods towards the liking he's taken to the idea of raising some little trouble-makers with you...

Boyfriend!Kakashi who brings up the serious conversation of children after you calm down from his remark, and despite his nonchalant attitude, Kakashi is pissing himself internally. But his face literally lights up when you seem quite open to the idea of a domestic life with Kakashi; his ego as a macho man, a provider for his lover, getting stroked so, so nicely when you give a simple 'that sounds nice' to the ninja suggesting he takes you as his house-husband.

Boyfriend!Kakashi who does his best to wine and dine you that night, giving you a taste of what is coming if you two decide to go through with your little fantasies from earlier. And don't put it past your sex-machine of a boyfriend to try for some biological babies with you that very night - he's a true believer that even as a man you can get pregnant if you two just try hard enough~

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cherryredstars · 8 months

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Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Oral Sex, Indirectly Mentioned Age Gap, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Mentions of Male Masturbation

Summary: An unwelcome guest arrives.

A/N: They’re back at it!!!

Word Count: 2.9K (Not Edited)

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

He can hear you. Both of you.

There are two pairs of footsteps walking past his door. The lighter, softer ones are recognizable. The heavier ones are not. His eyes narrow at the noise, quickly lowering the volume of the TV. He can hear the rustling of keys overlapping with the sound of muffled talking. Your laugh cuts through the noise, and his head whips to his own door. He’s quick to get up, making his way to the door. He waits a few moments before opening it, casually looking to the left as he steps out.

You’re standing at your front door, just opening it when you turn to him. Your doe eyes blink at him, a smile on your face and a slight blush. It’s the first time you two have seen each other properly since the incident two and a half weeks ago. He takes the time to drink in the sight of you. You’re wearing a bubble jacket and a pair of jeans. On your head is a beanie with a logo in the front, causing your hair to stick to your face. Over your shoulder is the bookbag you use sometimes when the weather isn’t ideal for your usual tote bag. It’s a refreshing sight. Better than the dream versions that visit him in his sleep.

The sight quickly sours when his eyes register the boy behind you. He’s young, around your age. A classmate perhaps. He’s tall, but nowhere as tall as Miguel. He’s lanky, all long, thin limbs. Probably doesn't know the difference between barbells and dumbbells. He’s wearing a pair of gray sweats and a black sweater with a coat overtop. He has thick hair, styled to look ‘naturally’ messy. It looks like he got electrocuted. Three times in a row. By lightning. He has his own book bag thrown over his shoulder, and his smile slowly disappears when he looks at Miguel. He steps a little closer to you, a few inches separating his front from your back. The scene looks far too intimate for his liking. He would be considered ‘cute’ or ‘hot’ in a dorky way to any teenage girl.

The two size each other up. There's no competition.

“Hi, Miguel!”

Your face makes both of them turn away, looking down at you. You’re smiling wide at Miguel, and he feels way too prideful when you step towards him. He can’t resist the smug look he throws at the boy behind you. His arm reaches out, his fingers grabbing at one of the front pieces of your hair. From over your shoulder he can see the fetus glare at the possessive touch.

“Hi, mi nena. Who’s this you brought with you, hm?”

His voice is low, intimate in the fact that his words are softened for you. You seem to melt into the tone, your body self-consciously leaning in as you blink up at him. For a second you seem slightly confused, turning around to see the boy. It’s like you forgot he was even there. The boy loses his glare, giving you a small smile. You turn back to Miguel quickly, a slight flush on your cheeks. The attention you give him, even in front of your…guest, makes his heart sing and his cock stir. He’ll have to reward you for it later, when the time is right.

“Oh! He’s just my classmate, we have to work together on a project.”

Miguel smiles at that. He’s just a classmate. He’s not even considered a friend to you. It’s cute, the way you try to reassure him that nothing is happening between the two of you. But, that doesn’t nullify the fact that your classmate obviously wants to be something more than your project partner. Miguel trusts you completely. What he doesn’t trust is a young, horny boy near you. But he does have to admit, the dejected look on his face when you refer to him as only a classmate pleases something ugly inside of him.

Miguel’s finger rubs against your cheek before he lets your hair go, his eyes following the way your body shivers slightly at the contact. You stay leaned towards him, and Miguel has to resist the urge to coo down at you. Instead, he reaches both of his hands down towards your waist. Your body seems to melt into his touch, your eyes going dopey as his warmth seeps through the thick denim of your pants. If the two of you didn’t have a guest present and weren’t out in the hall, he would kiss you. Or eat you out against the wall. Whichever one crossed his mind first. He would have enough time for both if you let him indulge. But, again, he would have to save that for another time. Right now, he has to- very reluctantly- return you to your party.

His arms are quick around your waist as he turns you around, your body stumbling slightly from the speed. You seem confused as you’re now faced with your company, turning your head back to Miguel. You have a slight pout on your face, disappointment spreading as he pushes you forward slightly. You look like you’re about to protest, and as much as he’d love to have you begging for his attention, you have other matters to attend to. Miguel leans down, his breath warming your neck. He can’t resist taking a whiff of your dizzying smell, letting it invade his lungs and travel to his cock for safe keeping. He’ll make use of it later.

“Go do your work, mami. I’ll see you later, hm?” He whispers, eyes hungirly taking in the way your lips part and blush spreads across your face. You turn your face to him, a few centimeters separating the two of you. Your eyes hastily fall to his lips before meeting his eyes, muttering out a breathless ‘okay’.

Miguel smirks, opening his mouth to say something else when a rough cough breaks the moment. Both you and Miguel turn your heads, looking at the boy who seems slightly uncomfortable. He eyes the lack of space between the two of you, eyes dropping to where Miguel still grabs your waist. Good, at least now he knows who you belong to. Miguel slowly removes himself from you, and you give an apologetic smile to your guest. You begin to walk towards him, and Miguel lets you walk a step or two away before grabbing your wrist and pulling you back to him.

You bump into his chest with a soft noise, wide eyes looking up at him. Both of your arms are trapped between your body and his, and your breath stutters when he leans down. Miguel keeps his eyes trained to the boy behind you, loving the sour look on his face.

“I don’t want to hear any funny business. This will not be one of those types of ‘study sessions’, you understand?” Miguel says slowly into your ear, possessiveness seeping in with each word. You open your mouth to say something, but the words get stuck in your throat as you feel something hard pressing against your thigh. Miguel squeezes your wrist, pulling your attention back to where it should be, “Do I make myself clear, chica?”

The airy ‘yes, Miguel’ you practically whimper out will satisfy him for now. He whispers back a ‘sé buena’, letting you go and pulling away. Miguel keeps his eyes on your little frat boy for a few more seconds before he looks down at you. His hand falls to your chest, pushing you back slightly as he turns towards his apartment. You still have this dazed look on your face, and Miguel commits it to memory. Slowly, you turn around looking at your classmate briefly before walking into your apartment. He takes a second to follow you in, instead looking at Miguel with a tightened hold on his bookbag. You call out his name, and he disappears behind your closed door. Miguel scowls at the door before he slips into his own home, leaning against the door.

His eyes trail down his body to the hard on bulging through his pants. His hands slip through his waistband, palm connecting to the precum beading at his tip. He grits his teeth as he begins to tug at himself, the smell of shampoo and a dazed face running through his head.

___________________________________

He sits up on the couch when he hears your door open and close. He stays silent, picking up the sound of a singular pair of footsteps walking away until they’re gone. Miguel waits a few moments before getting up, running a hand through his hair as he makes his way to the door. He doesn’t bother to lock it behind him when he closes it, instead focusing on getting inside of your apartment. He stands in front of it, lifting a hand to knock before stuffing both of his hands into his pocket. He can hear you walking towards the door, and his cock stirs knowing you're all his now. He hears the lock click and a second later you open the door with a confused look on your face. Your expression falls away, mouth parting slightly at the sight of him. He smirks down at you, not needing an invitation before he walks in.

He lazily looks around, eyes narrowing on the heater panel on the wall. He fucking hates that heater. He turns back to you just as you lock the door and turn to face him. There is a sort of electricity running through the air, and Miguel’s eyes slide down your form half-mast. You’re still wearing your jeans, but now he can see the long sleeve shirt you were wearing under your coat. It isn’t skin tight, but he can still see the outline of your breasts in it. He can feel his cock twitch in his pants as he focuses on the slight swell, but his eyes come back to your face. You look bashful, obviously catching him eye fucking you. Miguel doesn’t feel an ounce of shame, walking up to you slowly. You back up against the door, back hitting the wood. He doesn’t stop advancing until his chest is mere centimeters away from yours. With his close proximity, you’re forced to look up at him, wide eyes blinking cutely up at him.

It makes his eyes darken, and his hand comes to your face and strokes just under your eye.

“How was your little study date?” He asks, a dark smile on his face.

Your lashes flutter rapidly, lips parting, “It wasn’t a-”

Your words die off as Miguel’s other hand presses against your pants. His fingers expertly undo the button, and soft unzipping comes after. You try to look down, but Miguel’s hand around your face grabs your chin and keeps you looking up at him. Your chest brushes against him with every breath you take. Your eyes are glazed over, and that dazed look paints your face again. Miguel’s thumb plays with your bottom lip, his smirk dropping slightly.

“I asked you a question. Are you gonna answer it?”

“I-” you stutter out, thighs pressing together. You can feel a wetness filling your panties and your cheeks flush. “It wasn’t a date.”

Your voice is soft as you confess it, and Miguel finally coos at you. His smile comes back, still condescending. He hums in thought, hands falling to your hips. Slowly, he begins to descend to the floor, “Yeah? Why don’t you tell me about what you did and I’ll decide for myself.”

You stutter out another response as you watch him, thighs almost crossing over the other to relieve the ache in between them. His thumbs stroke just under the waistband of your jeans, his fingers hooking into the belt loops as he begins to drag the denim down your legs. Your mouth parts as he looks up at you, but no words escape. He shakes his head with a chuckle, parting your thighs once your pants pool at your feet. He leans forward, and you yelp as he presses his nose against your panties. Your hands fly to his hair, whimpering out as he groans. He can feel your damp arousal through your soaked panties, and the smell of it is intoxicating. He can’t resist the urge to lick at it through the fabric.

“Miguel!” You gasp out, eyes wide as you look down at him. His pupils are blown wide as he moves your panties to the side, coming face to face with your naked cunt.

Your clit pokes out to greet him, and there is a soft glistening around your folds. All for him. He curses at the sight, his tongue lapping at the small bud. It causes you to shriek, hands tightening in his hair. Miguel smirks at the noise, pulling away from your addictive pussy for a few minutes.

“I don’t hear much talking from you, nena.”

You choke on your breath as he licks at you again, lips falling open. Your sentences are stuttering, incomplete babbles, mind getting lost in the pleasure he’s giving you. You’re saying something about researching and some dead poet, but Miguel doesn’t really care. Your head leans back against the door as he slurps at you, his tongue flicking against your swollen bud and teasing your folds. You cry out his name again when his tongue pokes at your entrance, catching the arousal that dribbles out. His hand comes to the back of your thigh, lifting it over his shoulder as he sucks on you. You let out a loud moan as his tongue slides inside of you.

The groan he lets out vibrates against your whole body, and he gets drunk on the taste of you. His tongue explores your wet walls, moaning whenever they contract around the slippery muscle. He can feel the arousal on his face, and he tries to bury himself deeper into your cunt. You can’t help the high-pitched noise that leaves your mouth as his nose bumps repeatedly against your clit, stimulating you to the point that your legs feel like jelly. You can feel your leg buckle from under you, and the only thing keeping you up is Miguel’s head pressing your lower body against the door.

Your hips buck into his face as he switches between tongue-fucking your hole and sucking on your clit. Your pussy pulses against his mouth, and you can’t help the grinding you do as you use your hold on his hair to move his face against you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he lets you guide him, his groans vibrating against you. Some whines and whimpers leave your mouth, a hot ball forming in your stomach.

“Miguel, I’m… please,” You cry out, making Miguel chuckle against you.

His movements speed up, tongue lavishing you like a man starved. His eyes are hazy as they look up at you, watching your twisted face. Your mouth falls open, hiccuped noises leaving you until your entire body tenses. You cry out loudly, head pressing deeper into the wood of your door as you release. Miguel moans against you, eyes closing as he greedily laps at you for a taste of your sweet cum. Your chest heaves like crazy, and your lower body jolts from the overstimulation his tongue is giving you. Your hands weakly try to push his head away, and he whines disapprovingly against you before he submits to your silent order.

Your face flushes as you look down at him, his chin glistening with spit and your arousal. You feel yourself pulse when he licks his lips, collecting the remaining juices there with a moan. Your body goes slack against the door, and Miguel gently eases your leg off his shoulder. Your hands fall to his shoulders, using him as a way to keep you up as his hand places your panties back into their place. The wetness still coating your underwear is slightly uncomfortable, but you quickly forget it when Miguel comes face to face with you again. His face is still shiny, but that hunger in his eyes seems satisfied for now.

“Don’t think I like that boy around you,” He comments, eyes scanning your face. Your body jolts when his thumb presses into your clit, making you gasp. “And don’t think for a second he can make you feel the way I just did.”

You’re left speechless again, only capable of staring up at him and nodding numbly. He leans down and kisses you quickly, a thin coat of the sticky remains of your own arousal coating your lips as he pulls away. He moves you slightly, your body pressing against his chest as he opens your apartment door. He’s quick to turn the two of you around, not wanting anyone to see you in your underwear and post-orgasm daze. His mouth falls to the top of your head, planting a kiss to your hair. He pulls away from you as he goes out in the hall, leaving you standing inside your apartment.

“Don’t bring anymore boys home, cariño” He calls out teasingly, that smirk still on his face as he closes the door behind him.

You blink at your door, confused on how he left so casually. You look down at your jeans on the floor, slowly picking them up and holding them to your chest.

Why does he always leave?

Pt. 5

Extra 1

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coryosbaby · 1 year

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Warning: stepcest (stepbrother x stepsister), sex, & pervy behavior

Stepbrother! Rafe being completely obsessed with bimbo! reader <3 He always brings her little gifts. Subtle things, that no one ever really notices, such as a new lip gloss from her favorite brand or a set of diamond earrings with tiny Rs imbedded into them. He tells her to keep secret, and of course why wouldn’t she? He’s her favorite person, after all. He’s the sweetest boy ever.

She’s completely clueless to the way he looks at her curved form when she bends over, or the way some of her panties mysteriously disappear from the laundry. Doesn’t even notice the way his hand disappears into his pants whenever her back is turned to him when they’re alone.

One night she sneaks into his room and wakes him up with apologies spilling past her soft lips. It’s storming.

“‘M sorry. I just- I’m scared, Rafe.”

And when it sinks in that she’s scared of the storms, Rafe is quick to guide her into his arms and wipe away her tears with gentle fingers.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos. “Baby, it’s just a storm. It’s not supposed to get bad.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

And he cages her in with his big arms, let’s her fall asleep against his chest.

If either of their parents notice, they don’t say anything the next morning.

It becomes a routine, after that, for her to sleep in Rafe’s bed. It’s better in there, she thinks, softer, and warmer, and.. Rafe is there. Anything is good if Rafe is there.

Because with Rafe, she feels safe. No matter what, he’ll always be there to protect her from the things that scare her the most.

She slips in beside him quietly, on this particular night. Rain softly patters against the window. Not enough to scare her, but she misses Rafe’s warmth. He has no shirt on when she moves next to him, just a pair of gray boxers. She softly brings her head to rest on his shoulder as she slides under his comforter. He groans, sleepily, and then his eyes peel open as he looks at her with a crooked smile.

“Hi, sweet girl.”

“Did I wake you up?”

“You did,” he laughs, moving a piece of her hair out of her face. “But I don’t mind. C’mere.”

He brings her closer to him, her hands moving to rest on his bare torso.

“You’re practically freezing, baby,” Rafe coos, as he rubs his hands up and down her shoulders. “Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

“Didn’t wanna bother you..”

“You could never bother me.” Rafe replies. He caresses her hip with a soft, gentle stroke. “But why don’t you give me a kiss, hm? To make it up to me.”

The suggestion has her face setting ablaze. Of course, Rafe is incredibly handsome. She’s always thought so. His offer makes her have a nervous fluttery feeling in her tummy. But she wants to be good for him, so she lifts herself up and land a soft peck on his lips. He smiles, happy, and rubs his thumb over her bottom lip.

“Why don’t you do it one more time, sweetness? You know, for luck.”

She grins, a giggle leaving her lips. And then she’s shyly kissing him again.

This time it’s different. His mouth stays on hers longer, and he gently guides the back of her head to accompany the turning of his own. He moves against her, slow and messy, as her eyes flutter shut and she begins to sloppily leave spit against his plump lips. She moans, hands threading into the boy’s hair with a neediness she didn’t know she had. Soon his tongue is joining the mix, soft and wet in the open canal of her mouth. When she finally pulls away, it’s because Rafe grasps her hair and pulls her away from him. She looks at him with longing, and his other hand goes down to grope her ass. She gasps, a small whine leaving her throat.

“Rafe.. mom and dad-”

“Don’t have to know,” he finishes. He gently grabs her thigh and throws it over his waist so she’s straddling him. She nervously look down at him. “I won’t tell, I promise. Just let me have you tonight.” He looks up at her, pleadingly.

“Please, angel?”

#Rafe Cameron #Rafe Cameron x reader #Rafe Cameron x fem! reader #Rafe Cameron smut #Rafe Cameron fanfiction #s2! Rafe Cameron #stepbrother! Rafe Cameron #dom! Rafe Cameron #sub! reader #obx #outer banks

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ghostfacd · 10 months

Text

SAVE THE GIRL

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!mentor!reader

summary: when you start to feel bad for the tributes, it’s when snow slowly starts to crack. when you snuck into the arena to properly send your goodbyes to one is when he loses it, making it his mission to get you out, even if it means costing his life

warnings: SPOILERS. descriptions of killing, Snow being a bad friend to Sejanus and manipulative, reader essentially replaces Sejanus in the movie’s original scene

“We all know how this works right guys?” Lucky Flickerman says, his eyes held a sparkle within them. “As soon as your tribute dies, you’re out!”

The screen flickers on the arena, its dusty surroundings filled you with a sense of dread.

You had gotten Lamina, a girl who you were afraid would die as soon as the timer went off. But she managed to impress you, and completely won you over when she had speared the other tributes’ pain and suffering by killing them with an axe.

“Coryo,” you whisper to the blonde hair boy who was almost drifting into sleep. “Coryo.”

“Hm?” He fixes his posture, “is something wrong with Lucy Gray?”

You shake your head, and only pointed to the empty desks surrounding you. “Many died.”

“Your point?”

It almost seems as if Coriolanus was bored of your commentary, he probably was, you did wake him from his sleep.

“This doesn’t feel right Coryo. Not at all. Any of it.”

Coriolanus lets out a breath of annoyance. It was always like that with him, he seemed always to be one step ahead—or at least he presented himself in that way, and he seemed like he was annoyed with anyone who wasn’t on the same level as him.

You and Coriolanus went way back. You were the first few to have known of the death of his father, Coriolanus had told you about it with tears in his eyes. Not because he missed his father, not really, but because he was afraid that there would be nothing left of the Snow family by the time the war was over.

When you first entered the Academy, Snow linked himself with Clemensia Dovecote, a pretty black haired girl who he had gotten close with, and if anyone didn’t know better, they might’ve been more than just friends. But Coriolanus and Clemensia came off as acquaintances by association to you more than anything.

He stopped doing group projects with you so he could do it with her, and he had made himself friendly with Sejanus, a boy who was originally from the Districts but managed to buy his way into the Capitol. Or at least, that’s what all of your seething classmates said as they looked at him in disgust.

“You sound like Sejanus.” Is all Coriolanus says, glancing back at his small television screen.

“Sejanus is our friend, Coryo.”

“Sejanus is district.” Coriolanus slams his hand on your desk, making you flinch. “No matter how much money he has, no matter how much he tries to fit in, he will always be district. And you? You might as well be district with him if you keep acting like this.”

Your brows furrow, and you start to get angry. Who the fuck does Coriolanus Snow think he is?

“And I suppose you’re so well off Capitol yourself, Coriolanus?”

The way your words drip with such venom makes Snow almost crumble, but he doesn’t, instead, choosing to inch his face just a meter over yours. “Don’t say anymore things you don’t mean, Y/N.”

And that was the end of it. Coriolanus Snow wins every argument, and you hated him so much. Why couldn’t he see this was wrong? You knew he had a heart in there somewhere, which was why he was helping Lucy Gray Baird in the first place. Unless he was doing it all for the Plinth prize, for the money.

As you watch your tribute fall to her death, the loud crack adding all to your misery, you wanted to throw the television and desk across the room, just like Sejanus had previously. They were monsters, all of them.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Coriolanus says, his eyes flickering up to meet yours.

But Coriolanus Snow can’t be sorry, he can’t feel empathy, he can’t feel pain, and most importantly, he can’t feel love.

As the games went on, Coriolanus was slumped into his chair, sleep overcoming his senses.

Dr. Gaul clears her throat, her loud but snake like movements made Coriolanus jolt awake, hissing as he accidentally hurt himself on the edges of the desk.

“I see you’re still here, Mr. Snow.”

“Is something wrong?” Coriolanus asks, eyebrows furrowing. “Is Lucy Gray okay?”

“Oh her? She’s fine.” Dr. Gaul waves the girl off like she meant nothing. “It’s your friend, I’m worried about.”

“My friend?” Coriolanus whips his head around to try and find you, but you were gone, leaving no trace.

“Yes.” Dr. Gaul motions to the wide television in front. “She’s in the arena right now. Doing this goodbye thing for her tribute.”

Coriolanus doesn’t want to believe Dr. Gaul, but how could he not when you’re shown so clearly in the cameras, putting flowers into the hand of your tribute. Almost as if you saw her as human.

“Now Miss. L/N hasn’t done anything like this in the past, so it does spark questions in my mind as to why she’s suddenly..” Dr. Gaul pauses. “Rebelling.” She says this as if it were poison on her tongue.

“From Sejanus, I would expect this. But from our own people, Coriolanus? Now this is absurd. I’ll make sure to get the name of the peacekeeper who let her in and have them executed.” Dr. Gaul gives him a smile, one that sends chills up Coriolanus’s back. “Now I happen to know you two are friends, close friends even; so I need you to go into the arena and fetch her out.”

“Me?” Coriolanus stutters out, hesitance clearly showing in his voice.

“Is that hesitance I hear, Mr. Snow?” Dr. Gaul steps even closer. “Everyone in the Capitol is asleep by now, which means they won’t see the foolishness Miss. Y/N is currently causing. You will go into the arena and take her out before she does anything more stupid. I will not let these rebels make mockery of my game, Mr. Snow. I will simply not allow it.”

And Coriolanus knows he has no choice but to obey Dr. Gaul’s orders.

He makes his way quietly into the arena, making sure his footsteps weren’t creating such loud noises to alert the tributes.

“Y/N,” he whispers as he gets close to your kneeling figure. He watches as you slowly put your hand over Lamina’s eyes, closing them for her. “Y/N.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you reply, not bothering to turn around to face the boy.

“But I am.” He grunts out in annoyance. “I’m here to save your ass because that’s what friends do, Y/N. So help me, and get up.”

You don’t listen to him, choosing to keep kneeling and watching your dead tribute instead. She looked peaceful, and you felt so guilty knowing there was nothing you could do to save her.

“Y/N, I mean it.” Coriolanus says in a more assertive tone. “You’re going to die out here. These tributes? They might as well be animals now, they’re gonna kill the both of us if we don’t get out.”

He grunts in annoyance when he doesn’t see you move, so he carefully walks over, placing his arm under yours, practically dragging your body up from your kneeling position.

“Cmon Y/N, you’ve got to help me.” Coriolanus whispers out. “You don’t want to die here, trust me.”

“HEY! YOU!” The two of you whip your head so quickly at the voice that it sends a dizziness into your head. “HEY!”

The remaining tributes, none of them were Lucy Gray, Wovey, or the boy from 11 with speed so quick that it took the breath in your lungs away.

“CMON!” Coriolanus grabs your hand, the both of you fiercely running towards the doors.

One of the tributes with one of his eyes shut had a sharp blade in his hand, successfully slicing into Coriolanus’s back and your arm. The two of you let out a moan of pain, the frenzy feeling of adrenaline overwhelming the both of you.

Coriolanus lets your hand go for a second, pushing the tribute back harshly, managing to make him drop his weapon. Coriolanus picks up one of the broken poles, repeatedly hitting the male tribute with it until his body stopped moving completely.

You thought he’d be done with it, but he lets out a scream of anger, plunging the pole into the tribute’s body, making you shriek out in horror.

“You’re okay, you’re okay!” Coriolanus breathes out to you, practically limping hand in hand with you as he sees the other tributes catching up from the distance. “Open the door!”

The peacekeepers opened the door, closing it right as one of the more fiercer tribute sticks her trident out. “You’re lucky you’ve escaped this time.” She growls out.

You fall onto the ground as soon as Coriolanus lets go of your hand.

“Hey,” he croaks out, kneeling to cup your face into his hands. “Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

He sounds so reassuring, so kind, and not like the Coriolanus you had despised from earlier.

“I..” you can’t even get a word out before you’re full on sobbing, not caring if you were embarrassing yourself in front of Coriolanus and the two peacekeepers.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He places his hand on the back of your head, bringing you into his chest. “Everything’s gonna be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

“No one will ever hurt you, Y/N.”

And if there’s one thing Coriolanus Snow is good at—it’s ensuring he gets what he wants.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games x reader #hunger games

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abbyromanoff · 11 months

Text

CHOKEHOLD

PAIRINGS: Emily Prentiss x bsf’s child!reader

WORD COUNT: 2704

WARNINGS: smut, anal play, kinda dark Emily, manipulation, poorly written smut tbh, innocence kink, possessiveness, fingering, multiple orgasms, Mommy (E), squirting, cnc, somnophillia, R is JJ’s kid, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“Love you, Mom. Bye, guys!” Emily watched as you kissed your mom goodbye, the sweet gesture causing her to grin. You waved to the group, walking through the glass door and heading towards the elevator. She knew it was now or never, this was her chance to make her move.

“Alright, I think it’s about time I get home. Why don’t you guys get an early night?” She was usually the last to leave, which is what confused the team. JJ furrowed her brows, spinning in her chair to face the older woman.

“You never go home early, not even on Friday nights.” She noted before a smirk took over her face. “Unless, Emily has somewhere to be.” She teased, causing Garcia to coo as she took a seat next to the blonde. She rolled her eyes, eyeing the clock as she estimated the time of your arrival.

“I didn’t sleep much last night, I’m tired.”

“And why didn’t you sleep much, hm? Were you too busy, say, entertaining other parties?” She flipped the woman off before disappearing past the doors, cursing herself for staying so late before rushing to her car. She started the engine in no time, instantly pulling out of her spot as she followed the coordinates. Her mind never once left you, and she started to worry if she absentmindedly blew a light or took a wrong turn. But she didn’t care, all she wanted was to get home to you.

Her fist came pounding on the wooden door, her gaze falling on every crack and seam that could be used as easy entry, she’d have to warn you about those.

“Em? I, uh, what are you doing here?” You questioned, only to be silenced as she pushed you into your flat, shutting the door behind her while your back hit the cold wall.

“What the fuck, Em-” She cut you off quickly, placing her fingers atop your lips as your breaths became the only sound to fill the room.

“There’s someone after you, and I’m here to protect you.” You furrowed your brows together, kicking away her digit as she towered over you. Her gray hair framed her face, and every line only showed her experience.

“Wha- Why isn’t my mom here, then?” She bit her lip, causing you to repeat yourself. She knew she had to act fast before threatening your trust in her lie.

“They don’t know, okay? Look, you have to trust me-”

“No, I want to know what the fuck is going on.” You pushed, scoffing when she remained silent for far too long. She shoved your shoulders back, forcing you to remain still as she took a moment to admire your expressions in a time of such weakness.

“There’s someone from my past that- that the team doesn’t exactly know about, and when I parked here last week to give you back that sweater you forgot at your mom’s, I noticed his car and I saw him leave the moment he saw me. I- I can’t risk putting you in danger, and since I already have, I’m going to do everything in my power to protect you from it.” It wasn’t entirely false, there was a time in her life when she was haunted by her past, causing her arrival in Paris. But that was when you were so young, you wouldn’t remember a single thing, which she used to her advantage.

“You don’t need to believe me, but all I ask is that you let me stay here, and you let me protect you.” You bit back a snarl and sighed, brushing her off as you brought yourself to the couch.

“I don’t have a spare, you can take the bed.”

“No, this is your place, I’m not going to take that from you. I say we share but if that’s not what you want, then I’ll have the couch.” She debated, crossing her arms over her chest as she examined the building. She wanted it to seem like she was checking in fear of danger, but really she was trying to get a picture-perfect memorization over every inch. That way she could have a better view from beneath her blankets when her fingers were buried deep inside of her.

“Fine, we’ll share.” You mumbled, clicking through endless amounts of channels before losing hope and tossing the remote to the side.

“You don’t have to stand there like a brick wall, you know. We’ve known each other since I was little, you’re allowed to speak.” She took a breath before taking the spot next to you, adjusting her suit jacket before ruffling it off. Your eyes fell to the biceps threatening to break past the tight blouse, but looked away before she could spot you, little did you know she knew the entire time.

“So, you graduated correct?” You nodded, leaning on your hand as your elbow rested on the wooden frame of the sofa. “What was your major again? Psychology?”

“Yeah, I guess I just really wanted to follow down my Mom’s footsteps.” She mimicked your pose, letting the tightness in her muscles loosen with a sigh.

“Well, I think she’d be very proud of her little girl following her lead. In fact, JJ goes on and on about how lucky she is to have a child like you, and I agree, she is quite lucky.” She chuckled at your darkened cheeks, using her thumb to stroke the soft skin after brushing a hair out of the way. It felt right being with you like this, everything seemed to feel right with you. She didn’t know why, no brain she studied had ever given her a clear image as to what differed from hers. She just felt so protective over you, she didn’t want anyone else to get close to you. Knowing you were here, all alone, with no protection until she arrived, it scared her more than she could express.

“I don’t know about that,”

“I mean it! Anyone would be so happy to have someone like you in their life, not only are you such a hard worker, but you’re also the sweetest person I know. Just don’t tell your Mom I said that, she thinks she’s my favorite.” You laughed, slapping her chest lightly as you felt your chest warm. You instinctively shuffled closer, your feet digging under her legs to search for warmth while her hand rubbed your thigh softly to provide you heat.

“Now I feel bad for yelling at you by the door.” You admitted, bringing her to scoff playfully, showing that she wasn’t truly mad at you.

“Oh, don’t stress it, love, I would be pretty annoyed if someone came pounding at my door too.” You gave her a soft smile, letting the comforting silence embrace the both of you before you leaned your head onto her shoulder. She kissed the top of your head gently, getting a small whiff of your shampoo, making her hum in delight.

An hour later she found herself lying next to you, sighing as the comfort of the sheets embraced her. You were in the next room brushing your teeth, and she didn’t try to stop herself as she peeked under the short bottoms you wore.

“I’m keeping my gun nearby, I hope that’s alright with you.” You crawled next to her, tossing the covers over your frame as you shut off the small lamp. She did the same, frowning as your back turned to face her.

“Yeah, that’s okay.” She hesitated before wrapping her arms around your tired body, letting her face press into your neck with a soft smile. You stiffened but eventually relaxed in her hold. You let yourself fall into a slumber, a peaceful sensation falling over you as images flashed through your mind regularly.

Emily admired the softness in your small snores, she felt grateful to be let in, but she felt worried at how easily you let her pass by with a lie. Anyone could’ve made up something similar and got free entrance, she was just lucky you knew her well enough to trust her.

She knew there was no hope in holding back now, this is what she came to do, to make you hers. She didn’t care if you were her best friend's child, you were old enough to make your own decisions and she was going to lead you into making the right one.

“‘M sorry, baby girl, I promise I’ll make you enjoy it.” Her fingers trailed below your large shirt as they pinched your sore nipples, her breath coming out shallow as her eyes fluttered shut. She pressed her crotch into your backside, letting her false cock rut into you.

“You wouldn’t mind if I just,” She brought them lower, causing her palm to rub against your clit as she teased your tight hole. “Touch you right here, would ya’, baby?”

She wished you were as pure as she wanted you to be, she wanted to be your first but could easily tell that she wasn’t. Instead, she let herself picture it late at night when she was all alone. She’d draw her digits in-and-out of you while you clung onto her, begging her to let you cum for the first time. She hoped you thought about it too, but she doubted it. She could read anyone, but you were like a closed book someone forgot to pick up.

“Fuck, you’re so warm, I could stay like this forever.” She inhaled the residue of your perfume and lotion, they were fading but she basked in all of it. She could feel her wetness grow, biting her lip as she continued to grind into your backside. The strap teased her clit, bringing her great ounces of pleasure.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” She kissed down your shoulder blade as her mouth parted, a loud moan escaping her. You shuffled in your sleep, your eyes fluttering open as you adjusted to the dark room with minimal light coming from the window. You gasped, your hand falling to meet her touch. Her fingers were plunged deep inside of you, thrusting in and out as you gushed around her.

“F…fuck! Em, g-get off,” She chuckled, using her free hand to rid you of your bottoms completely. A slap came to your ass, eliciting a groan from your end.

“If you really wanted me to stop, you would’ve left by now.” You looked down, noticing she was no longer keeping you hostage in her hold. You still didn’t move, gulping as you settled in. Truth was, you had a crush on the older woman since your teen years. It was normal in the beginning, that was until you moved out and your loneliness grew. With the loneliness came a deep arousal that was unable to be removed, the only way to cure it was desperate women at the bar that reminded you of the woman. Your fingers were never enough, but you knew hers would be more than needed.

“Please, Emily-“ You chewed your lower lip, regretting the words the moment they left you. She smirked through a chuckle, sighing as she slowed her pace, bringing a high-pitched whine from past your lips.

“What was that? Please, what, Y/N?” When you came up unresponsive, she repeated her question, slowing even further until she was stilled completely.

“No- d-do that again, please,” Your hand lowered under your shirt as you palmed at your chest, shuddering as your sensitive nipples hardened to a peak.

“Mm, aren’t I already giving you what you want? I thought you wanted me to stop, so I stopped.” You couldn’t bear to face her, not in this moment, not in this level of heat.

“I…I want you to keep going, it feels really, really fucking good.” She hummed, and that’s when you felt the strap pressed into you. You were so consumed in the threshold of her long digits, you failed to notice what else she was planning.

“God, I want to fuck this ass so damn bad. You want that? You want Mommy to fuck your tight ass, yeah?�� Her breath was ragged, her lips in a frenzy on your neck. You choked out a whimper, nodding your head slowly as you mumbled a small agreement.

“Would I be the first, hm? Is Mommy going to be the first to stretch out this little hole?” She lowered her pants, the fabric tight against her skin as they were a borrowed pair from you. You insisted she got out of the jeans she wore to work, even if they fit her body perfectly.

“You’re the first, Mommy.” That was all the permission she needed as she thrusted her hips forward, the tip teasing your hole in a rough, yet gentle manner. Her lips came close to your ear, her teeth sinking into the skin as you yelped in pain.

“Oh, don’t I love making you cry like a whiny little bitch.” She eased in the first few inches for what felt like years but only lasted a few minutes. It felt painful, as if there was a fire pooling inside of you. That was until it slowly started turning pleasant, causing a satisfying sensation to take over you. Her digits slid in and out of you slowly, her thumb taking to rub your clit in small circles, but it was enough to cause your brain to fog up. Your tongue peeked its way past your lips, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your hips had a mind of your own, grinding against both penetrating objects.

“Such a good fucking girl, Mommy loves her little girl so much.” You cried out, gripping her arm tightly as you shoved your face into the pillow to muffle the noises she forced out of you.

“No, no, you’re going to let me hear every single moan and whimper and cry; I’m not letting you off that easily.” Her length was now more than halfway through the barrier you set. You followed her hand, feeling a small bulge touching the surface. You pushed yourself impossibly closer to her, letting out a weak whimper.

“Mommy, I,” Your legs shook as you clenched tightly around her, soaking her fingers in your sweet nectar.

“It’s okay, baby, make a mess all over me. That’s it, Mommy is so proud of you, sweetheart.” She drove her hips with a harsher pace, watching as your hole squeezed her until she could barely move. She didn’t stop her ministrations, making you twitch in excitement and pain.

“It’s t-too much, Mommy.” She rubbed your clit faster, her groan evident as your juices sprayed across the sheets. You wept loudly, not caring for the neighbor's complaints the next day, they already disliked you, there was no point in trying to amend that.

“No, it’s not. You can go back to sleep, dove, Mommy just wants to play for a little bit longer.” You both knew there was no possibility of you resting after this, you’d both be continuing until the sun rose.

“Your Mom is going to fucking kill me, but, God, I want to taste you so bad.” Your eyes widened as you remembered the plans you and your mother were having the next day. She was supposed to come over for lunch before the two of you would leave to go shopping as she insisted you needed decorations for your new apartment. Emily couldn’t be here when she arrived, she’d instantly get an understanding of who left the dark marks over your neck, anyone who saw you would easily be able to guess the activities that were to be had the night prior, but it didn’t help that it was her job to read people like books.

“I don’t care, just fuck me, Mommy…please?” The moment you spoke she knew she was going to fulfill whatever request you made, and your small, tired voice only proved that. She bit her tongue, leaning close as she placed her digits on your lower lip, dragging it down as you took the offering with a grateful sigh.

“Whatever my girl wants, they get.”

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss smut #Emily prentiss fluff #Emily prentiss angst #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #Emily prentiss x reader smut

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staarboyyy · 4 months

Text

Team building exercise

billy butcher x frenchie x supe!reader | they/them pronouns used

explicit - minors dni

tags / warnings ; reader has vagina, weed use / intoxication, supe reaper, enemies to lovers if you squint, hell yeah for long buildup, threesome, lap sitting, oral [receiving / giving], spitroast, lots of petnames

summary ; As a Supe on the run, joining The Boys can be nerve wracking - Easing up tension is no easy feat.

word count ; 10.1k

a / n ; guess whose back! back again! hiatus break extravaganza, enjoy!

"I don't trust them."

"Of course you don't." Frenchie gave a scoff towards his taller friend, eyeing him dubiously as he perched a lit joint between his lips, arms spread over the top of the couch, thrumming his fingers to the quiet tunes on the shitty television. It was a dreary place to stay, the air always humid and buzzing lights above head a dim shade between green and flickering grays. Butcher's eyes shut, head tilting back as he gave a sharp sigh - Christ, it never gets easier does it? Dealing with the endless amounts of supes cycling into his life. He sucked his teeth, wordlessly gesturing his large hand towards Frenchie, index and middle finger slightly spreading in a silent request. The man complied as he exhaled the soiling smoke, lacing his mouth with a tacky dryness, his throat burning in a familiar way. He couldn't help but let a small smile gently tug up at his lips as Butcher took the joint from the other, lips pursing over the filter and taking a deep inhale. Billows of thick smoke clouded in his chest, the taste earthy and bitter. As it seeped from between his lips he sat up, passing the lit joint back towards Frenchie, who was still gently tapping his fingers on the couch.

"Give me a good reason, why you don't trust them - Hm?"

"Voughts after them already, paints a big red fuckin' target on everyone's ass. Not like we need anymore." Butcher muttered back, followed by a groan as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He wished that weed had worked how it did in the movies, taking a single tiny puff and instantly beginning to giggle, locating the nearest bowl of chips. It took a few minutes, slowly rolling down a hill into the mind numbing sweeping feeling of losing yourself, and being okay with it. Shit. Maybe he was high. He threw a glance to Frenchie, whom had taken to sliding off the couch and kneeling beside the rickety wooden table.

"Sure sure," Frenchie waved his hand dismissivley towards Butcher, not looking to him as he busied himself with packing weed into the small glass bowl from his bong; God only knows how long he's had it, and hadn't managed to break it. As the floorboards creaked from the entrance, both men's heads whipped around quickly to catch the sight of you.

"Speak of the devil," Butcher gave a forced chuckle, eyes darting away almost as quickly as they laid upon you. Frenchie gave a smile towards the you, throwing a slight wave to gesture towards him, that you was allowed to join, if you so wished.

With a stagnating hesitancy, you stepped forward, eyes cast over the rather dreary scene with an internal grimace; It didn't seem like the best hide-away to plan a takedown on Homelander, but in anycase you gave a slight chuckle before speaking. "Hey sorry - Couldn't really find where I was going." It was a fair comment to make, your eyes falling on the two men at fault for their rather lacking instructions on how to find the place.

"Sit sit," Frenchie gestured to the long rickety couch, Butcher taking up most of the space in the left and middle seat, knees wide apart from one another, arms casually wrapped over the couch. His eyelids were heavy, in part of the weed, yet the hanging bruised bags of exhaustion weighing down underneath his eyes was clear as day to anyone. Butcher was tired; Everyone was, including yourself. Frenchie finished packing the bowl, grabbing the neck of the bong as he stood, gently nudging Butcher's foot. He got the memo, leg moving to cross over the other as Frenchie fell back into the worn cushions, patting the space next to him. You sat slowly, leaning back into the well used couch with a slight creak of the springs.

"Don't worry - That's actually a good thing," Frenchie gave a wry wink toward you before leaning forward to set the bong down, while slapping his pockets for a spare lighter. Butcher's eyes seemed to stay shut longer as he blinked, taking small intervals of the rare peace among the hideout. The smell of weed filled the air, T.V. flipped to one of Frenchie's soap operas, half filled water bottles strewning over the floor.

"You smoke?" Butcher breathed out the words in a quiet deep rasp, eyes staying shut as he moved his arms to cross over his torso. Assuming the question was directed to you, you pursed your lips tightly. Butcher was never fond of you - He was as hesitant with you as any other Supe, snide comments and straight up avoidance seemed to be common in the man. You hoped weed would ease him up to the idea of you joining the strange posse he's created - You want the same things, in the end. "Yeah," You admit, eyes reaching towards Butcher's for just a moment. "Sometimes every day," You add, hoping to lighten to mood with a look towards Frenchie.

Frenchie had been decently quick to slap around his pockets for a lighter with a quiet hum, eyes swimming over the ash trays in the room, to see if any had been left. Of course, no lighter in this place would be left unattended, everyone including those who didn't smoke, had sticky fingers to say the least. Butcher cocked his head off to the side, watching how your nervous demeanor was palpable in the air. With no response to you, he inhaled through his nostrils sharply, grunting as he leaned forward to grab at a plainly obvious green lighter near Frenchie's shoes.

"You fucker," Frenchie muttered, swiping the lighter from Butcher, flicking it a few times. The jagged wheel gave a stuttering scrape, producing a sparking flame, catching Frenchie's attention. "Smoking bud is simply just self medication. Some need it every day, some take it only right before bed,"

He trailed off, leaning back into the squeaking couch with the bong and lighter grasped in one hand. He always made the effort to make you atleast half way comfortable here, especially when Butcher's looming presence seemed to take over the air of the room - And you appreciated it, more than he could ever know. With an exhale, Butcher shed his heavy coat from his wide shoulders, letting it drop to the floor with a thick thud of leather on matted carpet. He tended to dawn button downs, not caring for the style or colors, as long as they were comfortable and easy to get on and off; Yet uncharacteristically, he wore a black sweater. It had been colder outside than normal, the icey rain sticking to the ground and making it easy to just prefer to stay inside. He rubbed his long fingers through his tousled hair, knee bumping Frenchie's as a gesture to start to bowl. So quietly, he did. The lighter came over the glass bowl, the grinded weed sizzling as it made contact, a ribbon of grey smoke and heavy aromas sedimented themselves in the air around them. He pulled, for quite a long time, letting the bowl crackle and illuminate itself before pulling it up, inhaling with ease. He held it for a few quiet moments, hand clutching the bong leaning over towards you bowl still singed and smoking.

"Jesus. Don't to pukin' on the carpet, we don't need any more bodily fluids in this place," Butcher spoke, not making it known whether or not he was speaking to Frenchie or You. Maybe both? Frenchie hadn't quite cared too much for the mans remark, exhaling the smoke in a thick billow, humming at the sight of it. The process of smoking had been so cathartic.

You took the bong graciously, nodding at the other in a silent thanks before pressing your lips to the mouth of the bong. You rested there for a moment, the smoke tinging your nostrils as it slithered up in snaking tendrils from the bowl, before inhaling graciously. The burn hit your throat tenderly, sliding down you in a wash of warmth, pooling with a familar soreness in your chest. As you exhaled the smoke, you could feel both mens eyes on you, and how your attention followed the plume of grey. After a tight draw of fresh air, a slight cough creeped over you, tickling your throat before parting your lips.

Butcher's gaze was still fixated on you, watching you cough lightly with a quizzical eye, leaning back into the couch with another creaky audible squeak. The silence was tense, yet the wringing feeling of the weed slowly veiling over the surrounding air, the ribbons toiling in the light of the buzzing lights, had begun to melt it away. Butcher relaxed his shoulders, head cocking off to the side as he swallowed thickly. If there was any way to get through to see the end of whatever this team needed to do, it’d be to bite his tongue and start acting like - What did M.M. say? A team player. Butcher scoffed.

“So - ,” Butcher trailed off in a nearly dubious tone, as if not convinced he even knew your real name. “You break easy?” He asked, causing Frenchie’s head to turn, eyebrows furrowing slightly before giving a wry grin - Butcher waved his hand. That came out wrong. The weed had pulled a sheen of dizziness on the demeanor he so effortlessly wanted to use to his advantage. Scare you off, make you see the light and how awful the world is, yata yata. God, his mouth was dry. Butcher clenched his jaw, eyes casting off towards the table with a suck of his teeth. “Tough skin? You’ve been in battle before?” He went on after a few moments of practicing the words in his mind, weaving them together despite the foggy feeling. Frenchie shook his head, chuckling quietly as he looked towards you, expression reading halfway sympathetic but unable to keep the bubbling laughs from rising past his lips.

“He’s an idiot. Ignore him,” As much as Butcher wanted to retort against Frenchie’s words, he simply rolled his eyes, leaning over the couch to grab at the neck of a whiskey bottle he had opened a few minutes ago. He put his lips to the mouth of the bottle, drinking the bitter liquor with a burning exhale pushing from his nostrils. It trailed a thick searing sting down his throat, to his stomach, almost grounding him from the effects of the weed - He hadn’t noticed he’d begun staring at you until he had to force his eyes to part ways with your flushed cheeks as you spoke.

"Oh - Yeah, my fair share. Nothing serious." You didn't want to go on at first, though the pressing tension in the air pushed an answer from your drying throat. "If you count run-ins with the FBI "Nothing serious", I mean." Slowly, you extended your arm across Frenchie, handing the bong off towards Butcher.

At this, he simply cocked his head. Of course, he didn't want to outright call bullshit yet his expression twisted into one that needed no words. As you handed the bong off towards him though, he took in a breath to speak, his rough skin pressing over your fingers. The transaction was simple, yet the lingering feeling of the you on his larger hand left him to shift in his seat slightly. It was hard to be his typical dark demeanor with the clashing mix of weed and exhaustion from the day prior; He sucked his teeth, pulling the bong close as he leaned forward to grab the lighter from the table.

"Alright, and lets say you've had these little "run-ins" - We don't even know your power for gods sake, so..." The man trailed off, eyes falling to the bong as he pressed his lips to the mouth piece, flicking the lighter over the bowl and taking a sharp inhale. Butcher didn't smoke weed as much as Frenchie did, preferring the casual ciggarette or even cigar, yet he handled the hits well. As he exhaled a thick billow of smoke, he offered it towards Frenchie, whose eyes were wide and glued to you, lips tilted up into a small smile.

"FBI? Ohhoh," He elbowed Butcher slightly, who in turn grunted, shoving the bong once more towards the other. Frenchie grabbed the neck of it, still grinning as he spoke, eyebrows furrowing slightly. "You mean it? Vraiment incroyable," He whispered, the veins of his eyes contrasting sharply to his dark irises and heavy lids, lashes laid thick. Frenchie shifted his weight slightly, facing towards the you with a throaty chuckle.

"And to think Butcher could ever doubt you, hey?" Frenchie brought his hand to your cheek, pinching at the apple of it slightly, humming as his eyes flickered over the your expression. His pupils were large, blown out from the dim light above and perhaps a mixture of some other drug he was able to scrape together. He wet his lips after a moment, swallowing harshly as Butcher cleared his throat.

"If they've been up against the FBI - I'm the fucking queen of England, how 'bout that?" The man spoke like a frustrated child, setting the bong onto the table with a low thud. It only egged Frenchie on, grinning a bit - He knew what that tone meant, yet knowing you would be oblivious to Butcher's unpredictable and strange jealousy made him chuckle wryly. How far could he push such a thing? He wondered.

"You ever shotgunned?"

Frenchie spoke casually, arm thrown over the edges of the couch as he tilted his chin down towards you. His eyes were wild, yet warm as he tilted his head, chewing his bottom lip for a moment. A tinge of embarrassment caught you as Butcher's words mingled in the smokey air, though Frenchie's quickly threw you for a loop, your gaze swimming through the room to find his.

"Shit probably... Not in a long time, but uh," You could feel your cheeks lighting up, the mirroring satisfaction of Frenchie's expression growing slowly.

"Christ you're high as a fucking kite, aren'you?" Butcher scoffed out a quiet chuckle, sharp through his nostrils, eyes wandering towards the space beside him on the worn in sofa. Frenchie's heavy eyes didn't move from yours, clicking his tounge and squinting slightly as he spoke.

"When am I not," He breathed the words out quietly, voice rasping through a playful purr. Butcher pursed his lips, head cocking off to the side slightly as he watched the you two - Frenchie moved like a snake, slowly and skillfully etching his arm over the edge of the couch and leaning his face close towards yours, his eyes doey and glittering with a familiar spark of thrilling measures. It was always the chase for the French man, wasn't it. Butcher wiped his thumb under his nose, fingernails rolling through the scruff on his chin, before moving to roll up the sleeves of his sweater. His forearms were built, bulking through the sweater sleeves and veins seemed to cross the bronze skin like streams and rivers on a map. Scars etched themselves onto him, weaving between his beauty marks and various bruises - His arms were a story within themselves, faded stick and pokes from years ago still demanded to be seen, despite his many attempts to do the opposite. Butcher leaned forward once more, wordlessly grabbing the bong.

"You're on the run from the FBI, and Vought - Ain't that just fuckin' peachy." His voice was cold, yet he let his shoulders relax slightly, his body shifting towards Frenchie with an audible creak of the sofa. Both men now sat closer to you than before, Frenchie's long fingers now stringing gently through your hair; While this wasn't out of character for the affectionate man, usually nobody would allow him to do so - He seemed quite pleased that you didn't protest against his warm touch.

"When was the last, hm?" Frenchie spoke, as if Butcher's words had hardly reached him. He used his free hand to gently scratch over the growing stubble on his hardened jaw line, eyes unwavering as a teasing grin snaked onto his calm expression. As he spoke, Butcher stayed silent, elbows leaned forward onto his knees - He looked at you like he was studying something, as if the weed made you all the more interesting. Yet it wasn't in the sense that Frenchie had, the glittering sense of warmth fleeting his sharp pointed gaze entirely; It was darker, nearly predatory, pinning you down to the couch with a simple lull of his eyes falling down your body - Agonizingly slowly.

"A couple of years - I uh," Usually you would have something to follow up the answer, a witty comment to lighten the now thickening air, but the weed now dripped over your shoulders. It was warm, the pillowing strength of the high tensing your muscles, and wavering your heavy eyelids.

"That so?"

Butcher spoke up before Frenchie could even catch his breath to answer. His fingers paused for a moment, still continuing to slowly string through your hair, but instead resting his nails on your scalp, scratching gently. Frenchie finally cast his gaze towards Butcher, whose expression was that of - Well nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary; Besides how he now assumed the position of letting his back relax against the couch, legs opening further as he cocked his head towards you, who had now grown awfully close to Frenchie. Nothing was said for a few moments, perhaps nothing needed to be spoken between both Frenchie and Butcher, yet the taste of the air seemed to shift for the men. Frenchie's eyesbrows settled as he watched Butcher return to his natural position, head tilting back slightly to coerce you two to come closer.

"C'mon then."

Butcher's voice on the other hand, had shifted to something different. The underlying rumble of how he clearly was not just suggesting you both follow his simple order, his thick accent weaving between his words, rolling off the tongue with a following billow of smoke; It was a demand. A devilish one at that, how he spread his large arms over the couches edge and squared his heavy shoulders.

Frenchie's gaze on the other rolled in waves, moving towards you once more; Although gentler than Butcher's had been, it was no less devious than the brit who now so casually began to pack a fresh bowl. It still stung with a sultry glaze of darkness, peering at you through thick lashes as his hand moved from your hair, down to your warm cheek. His thumb pressed gently into the soft skin, letting the pad of his finger trace ever so slowly down towards your jaw, eyes settling on your lips, for just a few brief moments. Your body had stiffened, a pooling warmth in your abdomen now fighting with the foggy feeling pulsating in your head.

Frenchie seemed to smile at this, almost entertained in the way you seemed to stiffen, watching the apples of your cheeks bloom a sheer pink. The man wet his lips, the feeling of Butcher's eyes burning into his back as he dropped his hand to grab at yours gently. It was soft, the calloused pads of his fingers gently cascading over your palm, pulling the smaller fingers to clasp with his own. He looked at how you fit together, the thrumming of his heart gently pushing against his ribs - The familiarness of it all made his lips twist into a small smile, eyebrows knitting together as his gaze flickered to yours once more. He lifted your tangled fingers, pressing his lips to the back of the your palm. His facial hair rubbed against your skin, his firm yet gentle grasp unwavering as he kept his eyes on you, as if his universe would collapse if he looked away. Carefully, he spoke.

"Would you mind if," Frenchie's voice was soft, coming in waves between soft kisses against your hand, still held by his own. "We remind you of such pleasures?" The question was vague, yet the knowing tilt of Frenchie's head gave way for the wry smirk. "Of smoking. Of course,"

Butcher looked onto this with pure interest, oddly enough enraptured by the way Frenchie seemed to snake himself around you. He moved his attention back to your expression after a few moments, catching your line of sight and giving a twitch of his eyebrow. His mind was racing, surely you were both in on it Of course. It, being something only occurring with the messily done up mix of weed and - Stress? Something like that. Butcher didn't care at this point, already shifting the weight of his thighs onto the couch, the friction of his thick jeans nearly rattling a sense of shame down his spine. Though, it was not nearly enough to overtake the sudden dryness of his mouth, how his heart now pounded in his ears, lips hanging open slightly as he wordlessly looked over at you and Frenchie. Your whisper was fragile, fixated on the man as your voice escaped your hold on rationalizing yourself.

"Yes..."

At the single word, Frenchie slowly lowered your hand, humming to himself quietly before brushing his thumb once more over your cheek. It was gentle, eyes glinting with a sense of warmth - Yet it seemed to slip away, slowly at first, then as he cast his eyes back towards your lips, it had fleet his expression entirely. With a slow movement, he guided your jaw with his hand, bringing you closer towards Butcher - You were now sitting between the two. The air was still, clouded with passing smoke and dust, yet the sound of all of you sucking in short gasps of air from clenched teeth had seemed to swim from ear to ear. The shift in Butcher's position was heard with a creak of the couch; He turned himself more towards you, his left arm resting on the edge of the couch and the other clutching the neck of the bong. His large thighs spread, the thick black denim not leaving too much for the imagination. Butchers eyes moved from you, to his lap, then back again. It was a wordless offer, one he had seemed to give many people, just from how casual it was. Yet on the inside, he could feel how painfully tight he clenched his jaw, practically white knuckling the bong as he tried for a casual shift of his weight.

Frenchie, had seemed enamored by the way Butcher moved. As much as Frenchie was a snake, Butcher was a lion. Predator by nature, moving silently and demanding with a simple flick of his eyes - He darkened the rooms he walked into, making peoples shoulders tense at the mention of his name. Butcher let a slow exhale reach him, jaw relaxing as he went to speak, eyes unmoving.

"Let me show you the proper way, hm?"

Though the man roused a question with this, it was clear it had been practiced on his tongue, having thought about this for quite some time. His voice was gravely, the prior smoking only adding to the rumbling purr of his ribboning words. He lifted his chin slightly - Smug bastard. Butcher clearly knew he had a strange advantage over quite a few people. The primal one, the one that seemed to click into place as soon as he began barking orders.

How you were breathing was a mystery. You moved with such ease under Frenchie's hand, under the thickening daze of his touch and the way Butcher was looking at you. That alone sent your heart pounding and face lit up with a scarlet flush. It had been a while since you felt so small, and allowed yourself to be told what to do and when. The thought terrified you, sending pins through your nerves, telling you to run. The weed, that was it, not the way you found yourself feeling so relaxed between the two men. No, it was definitely the weed.

You found yourself on Butchers lap, legs straddled across the man's bulk. Your eyes latched to Butcher's with ease, studying every small color detail you could find in him much like you had the French man's.

Butcher's eyes were hardened, locked onto yours with a piercing gaze - It was nothing short of devious, the delicious veil of smoke and pupil blown out lust becoming clearer on the mans expression as you lowered yourself onto his lap. His large free hand swept over the air as soon as you sat, rough palm meeting your waist. His thumb drew slow arc over your skin, eyes lowering over your body - He couldnt express the feeling that seemed to sear itself into his stomach, forcing his back to arch ever so slightly. A low exhale rumbled from between his parted lips, nearly in approval of how you now nervously shifted your weight, ever so deliciously. He watched your movements with a silent cold gaze, eyes tracking every one of your sharp breaths.

Frenchie watched with heavy lidded eyes, head leaning against the couch as he looked at you both - It was something out of a painting. Celestial in how the two seemed to fit together perfectly; Not to mention he couldn't get enough of your sheepish expression. Frenchie wet his lips, fingers moving to quietly fumble with the button and belt of his loose cargo pants. It was feeble and rushed, jaw clenching as a wash of heat rolled down his body, centering itself between his thighs. He shifted his weight, eyes not leaving Butcher as the man brought the now lit bong to his lips.

The brit's eyes stayed in place, locked onto your twitching frame as he pulled a deep inhale from the glass. With a slow movement, his eyes moved in time with his free hand, shifting from your body towards his your. His rough fingerpads rubbed against you, holding your face firmly - His thumb moved though, as he drew the bong from his parted lips, the rough thumb pulled your bottom lip down slowly. The action was small, caressing your soft lip to expose the slight opening of your mouth. Butcher set the bong off to the side, eyes flicking between your eyes, and your lips. After a moment, smoke drifted from his nostrils, the sting reminding him he couldn't simply sit and admire you. Despite his aching urge to do just that. He'd sit and watch you for hours, atop his lap and nervously shifting your weight. Butcher pulled your jaw foward, parted lips meeting yours - The smoke flowed between his teeth, pushing from his mouth into the yours, as a low throaty groan pressed from his throat. It was primal, instinctual in the way he dropped his hand from your face, returning to your hip. His grasp was much less gentle than it had been, now tugging your down. A silent demand - He wanted your full weight. For you to surrender entirely to him.

Butcher was a strange man. That was the only thought circulating through your speeding mind. You couldn't figure out why he stared so much, you couldn't place the reason Butcher had such an expression when looking at you or why his actions made you feel the way you did. Such a thing excited you. It sent a heat spreading through you that got more intense when Butcher touched you, each glide of his rough hands sending shivers up your spine.

When Butcher leaned in, you had as well, just barely. You wanted Butcher to lead this dance, to show you how this was to be done. And so far it was unrevealing you from the core. The closer they got the more your eyes closed, barely letting past a gasp pass as you sucked in the smoke. When you exhaled, you pulled away just slightly, eyes opening as you blew out the smoke, staring into Butcher's with a fire, a hunger.

"That's more like it, darlin'."

Butcher's voice was hardly audible, a slow purr, tasting the honorific as it slipped off his tongue. The last of the smoke pushed between his teeth as he pulled your weight into his own, lips clashing with yours. He gave a quiet grunt, drawn out and pleased; His facial hair pressed into your skin, the hand on your face slipping agonizingly slow over your body. He savored every twitch and gasp he was able to, his thick cock pressing into your warmth - It was driven in pure ecstacy.

Frenchie had managed to pry off his jeans, hand settling over his clothed length with a contended sigh; His eyes stayed on you and Butcher as you kissed, his fingers moving and caressing himself as you moved in sync. He wanted nothing more than to drink down the scene before him, a soft moan pulled from his throat as his breath hitched. He twitched in his hand, mouth practically watering as he watched Butcher grope you with such fierceness.

It wasn't careless or rushed, how Butcher's large calloused hands seem to linger on your lower back, snaking towards your torso - His fingers tucked underneath your shirt as his tongue swept over your lip, panting slightly into the kiss. Your skin was heavenly, smooth and soft - The touch of it alone made him groan quietly, bucking his hips up slightly as his hand continued exploring your body.

Frenchie let a moan roll from him, a slow drawn out whimper as he watched them; He brought his hand to his mouth, saliva gathering from the mere image of you leaning into Butcher entirely. Frenchie dragged his tongue over his palm, hips subconsciously bucking simply at the anticipation of it all. He brought his hand back down, shifting closer to the you two as he stroked himself - The sounds he made was obscene. Low pleasured purrs interlacing with sharp gasps, hand gripped tightly around his twitching cock. His eyes drifted along your body, undressing you with his heavy gaze.

Frenchie had thought about you before - In a situation like this. It came to him as he touched himself the same way he did now; His mind wandering and landing onto you with a sinister intent. Frenchie came just from the idea of using his mouth on you. The memory made him twitch in his hand, a shuddered groan breaking with a desperate whimper.

Butcher's hands seemed to chase up the skin of your body, his rough fingers meeting your chest with a sharp inhale. The noise that came from him was nothing short of animalistic, his palms laying over your body, groping needily - He rocked into your body, hips moving in slow circles as he throbbed for the you, the perfect weight on top of him. Butcher leaned his forehead on yours, breathing hard before speaking.

"You want to have a smart mouth with me - Hm?"

Butcher's voice thundered in a low primal tone, dark eyes casting into yours. He took a slow inhale, head slowly tilting back with a devilish chuckle. The sound of it reverberated, shattering the lustful haze that seemed to settle in the space between you all. It was a filthy sound, one of his hands moving up your back, his large fingers entangling into the locks of your hair. He didn't pull, yet held onto you firmly, with a slight smirk.

Frenchie's parted lips formed into a hazed lopsided smile as he beckoned you towards him - It was how must Eve had to feel in the garden. The stomach stirring temptation that came simply from the idea of taking the hand of the serpent; His canines glinted as his head tilted slightly, tongue moving to wet his lips before speaking. Frenchie's voice was nothing short of sinful, how his eyes moved over your body, a hand still loosely hung around his twitching cock; In truth the forbidden fruit didn't taste like an apple, nor did it even taste sweet. It tasted like sweat, like the breath being pulled from your lungs, a forceful hand around your throat. Suffocatingly pleasurable, the truthful definition of what it means to not just give into temptation, but to drink it down in hitched breaths - To lick it from knives, from fingers of men that seemed intent on breaking you beyond repair.

"How do you feel, darling?" Frenchie whispered.

"S..So good," You admitted, cheeks flushed at feeling so exposed to the men before you. The sound of your voice was heavenly, a low whisper of approval - It feels good. Butcher gave another quiet groan at the slight praise, shifting underneath you, arching his back into your heat.

Frenchie hummed quietly, mewling as he also heard your voice - Slowly the man stood, pacing over to stand behind you two, hands moving to snake around your torso. His fingers were rougher than Butchers, callouses and scars blooming over his hands; Each one told a story of course, all the cuts and bruises left with the aftertaste of copper, licking his own wounds. Frenchie let his lips dip down towards your neck, hands gently squeezing your hips with a soft hitch of his breath. His tongue slid over your skin with a pleased groan, deep and slow, a predator giving the prey a taste of what was truly to come. His teeth bit down, his fingers tightening slight on your skin; A snake constricting around a mouse while the lion below you sat and watched - You felt helpless, breathless, though Frenchie couldn't help but chuckle sardonically into your flesh, beside your ear as he whispered quietly.

"Petite souris," His breath was hot, teeth grazing over the shell of your ear, his hands moving to grip the hem of your shirt, pulling up slightly with a wry chuckle. "Don't hide from us."

As Frenchie pulled the shirt away, the men both took in a slow gasp. Both of their sets of hands paused on your body simultaneously - You was a sight to behold. Butcher's eyes softened, hand sliding up from your stomach to your chest. He slid his palm over the soft skin that now pulsed with your erratic heart, eyes not leaving you as his lips parted to speak.

"You're fucking perfect." Butcher didn't just utter the words in a sultry whisper for you to hear; It was akin to a prayer, something pulled from his mind and forced to speak - Is this what religion felt like? To gaze upon someone and feel the heart pounding, head spinning way he did now? You squirmed above Butcher, biting your lower lip slightly upon hearing the praise, the air of the room peaking your nipples slightly.

Frenchie's hands explored lower, lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulder as his fingers caught the belt loops of your jeans, tugging a bit. Greedy, he was; Yet every fiber of his being cried out to have his skin pressed against not just yours, but Butcher's as well. It truly was heavenly, how you three seemed to melt into one another with no refute or hesitation - One of Frenchie's hands slid up your chest as well, moving over your throat and to your jaw, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. His expression was gentler than before, the underlying darkness fizzling away like a fire in a storm. Frenchie leaned in slowly, lips pressing to yours with a pleased hum, bordering on a whimper.

You leaned into the others warm touches, gasping slightly as you lifted your hands to cup Frenchie's face with a corresponding fervor. He purred into the gentle kiss, free hand still on your jeans as he let himself melt into the feeling of your back pressed against him. He tilted his face, hot breath and tongue working in waves over your lower lip before letting his teeth gently tug on it - It was soft, yet a silent reminder. He didn't have to speak for you to feel how he admired you, how he did not just see you as sexy, but perfect. Ethereal how your body felt underneath his hands, how your soft groans gently reverberated against his lips, only making him hunger for more.

Butcher watched you two, leaning back from you to take in the sight with a low hum - His hands though, were not as kind as he seemed to be, looking at you and Frenchie with nothing but sheer adoration. Yet how his large palms now kneaded your skin, his fingers reaching lower - Lower; You could swear you could feel your heart slamming against your ribs as his index finger pushed past your waist band. A primal rumbling moan etched through his throat, his expression creasing upon feeling the shift of heat from the simple motion alone. As the groan pushed into the obscene hazy air, he leaned back more, now pressing his stiff clothed cock against you - It wasn't intentional, how he rocked against your body with fleeting desperation and filthy carnal desire; Yet his head tilted back, cursing in a deep whisper to himself - The exact opposite of a prayer, he thought. How his mind seemed to race with images of you presenting yourself to him, breathing hard and eyebrows furrowed, sweat glazing his face.

"Fucck - That's it love, just like that," Butcher kept you pulled down to his lap with fingers hooked tight on your waistband, still rocking with low contented sighs, his eyebrows knitting together slightly.

”That's it, doll.”

Frenchie’s voice was hot against your lips, eyebrows furrowing as his tongue pressed to yours - It was euphoric, the heavy breathing causing the French man’s head to spin. His hands moved down from your jaw, his large hand clasping over your throat, squeezing in the sides with a slow progression. He could feel your rushing blood underneath his rough fingers, and he bared a smile into the kiss, pulling away slowly with the tilt of his sharp jaw. He chuckled darkly, the sound contrasting his quiet whimpers and praise.

”Diable doux; You’re not as innocent as you look, hm?" A brief, tight squeeze came to your throat. Frenchie grinned wickedly at this, the feeling of power, how you gave a sharp gasp before he released it. He kept his large hand loosely around your neck as he gave a wry wink towards Butcher. Another strange silent agreement, one that didn’t need words - Perhaps it never did. Butcher moved quickly, strong arms tucking themselves underneath your shoulders, standing to his feet with a low grunt, exhaling sharply. He turned you in his grasp like a ragdoll, snickering quietly at the notion of how suprised you were; One of his arms now supported underneath your knees, the other holding your back - Bridal style.

“You wanna see what happens to a tease like you?”

Butcher didn’t even give you a second glance after asking, sucking a sharp breath through his teeth with a slight shake of his head. The two men walked together in sync, Frenchies hand extending towards your face, brushing the whisps of hair from your face.

The door to the rickety guest room opened with a harsh creak, slamming into the wall beside it before you were tossed onto the springy mattress. Butcher panted hard, large shoulders rising and falling as he stood at the foot of the bed beside Frenchie; A beat meets you all. A moment of silent clarity, the lustful clouds seeming to fade as Butcher parted his lips, looking down at you with a hungry expression.

“Just give us the word, yeah?” You took a slow breath, propped up on your shoulder as your pulse thickening in your ears, temples ringing with the unfamiliar thrill of being so easily tossed around despite your strength. You swallowed, eyes moving between the two before speaking with a slight nod.

"Yes.. Show me,"

This was all Butcher needed - Just the slight nudge that you were willing to give him was enough, more than enough. He moved quickly, large hands essentially ripping the loose jeans from your waist. He wanted to tease, to play the dancing game of making you beg for it - Yet he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. Butcher’s large fingers moved to rub over your underwear, sliding down your thigh; Of course, he could still tease through his teeth gritting need for pleasure. Frenchie had pulled his shirt over his head, his muscular arms flexing, coated, and painted in scars and fading stick and poke tattoos. He stretched his arms over his head, neck cracking as he leaned it back and forth. The French man gave a pleased purr from this, sighing between his teeth as he watched Butcher kneel at the foot of the bed. He had hooked his arms under your legs, pulling them effortlessly to tuck over his large shoulders. Butcher gave a quiet shudder from this alone, his fingers tracing down the fabric of your underwear; He could see you twitch just from this, prying a smile to pierce his intent gaze. His index finger drew towards your growing heat, letting the textured pad press over the hardened space between your quivering legs. He slowly moved, tantalizingly taking in your slight reactions to the shifting weight of his finger against your sensitive clit; He drank down your reactions with a low satisfied hum, chuckling darkly with a throaty tone, more like a growl than anything else.

“Wonder how wet they are just from sitting on my cock, hm?” Butcher let his gaze lazily move towards Frenchie, who now moved to get on the springy bed, wearing his boxers and striped ankle socks. He wet his lips, peering down at you, his large fingers weaving through your hair - The motion was loving, contrasting how Butcher now used his other hand to gently press at your clothed entrance. To say it was warm would be offensive; It was searing, the cotton damp, your arousal seeping through the fabric as Butcher tutted.

“Oh - Baby; You really need it bad, don’t you?” The brit’s tone was playful, just mocking enough for Frenchie to join in on the soft teasing.

“Poor thing, sweet little devil,” The man continued to slip his fingers through your hair, brushing it away from your face before letting his digits tangle in the wefts - He tugged gently, biting his lip as he used one of his hands to pin down your shoulders. Butcher leaned in, his rough palms sweeping down your thighs as he let his lips push onto your soft clit, his tongue darting out just enough to soak the space of fabric. His tongue was smooth, working over the spot with deep breaths; He couldn’t even taste you yet, but you knew that Butcher was yours. The man's fingers tightened around your legs, keeping them tucked over his shoulders as he felt you begin to buck into his movements.

Your underwear was stripped quickly down your legs, Butcher keeping his eyes on your body - The prospect of more and more flesh being revealed to him was enough to make one of his hands drop to his still aching cock, demanding his attention as the underwearfell to the ground. Butcher leaned in as he palmed himself, lips and facial hair sliding over your thighs as he shuddered, taking in the sight of your exposed body. He messily undid his belt as he let his teeth gently sink into your skin, groaning at the soft warmth. You gasped in turn, eyes swimming up to meet Frenchie's, a nearly sheepish expression tracing your face. Butcher's free hand moved to your clit, gently pulling the hood back before rolling his tongue over the sensitive nub. He took in a slow breath, savoring the taste and feeling of you in his mouth as his fingers now gripped his own cock, moaning into your heat. As much as the man wanted to hold back for your sake, he found it impossible, his mouth sinking over your dripping cunt with a low growl - Like a starved animal devouring a meal. The vibrations of his rumbling sounds gently reverberated against your clit, his tongue working in slow circles around it as his thick fingers came to rub against your entrance. The feeling of how wet you had become made him almost smug with pleasure, chuckling quietly to himself as his middle finger slowly began to sink in. It wasn't anywhere near the width of your own - It stretched you deliciously, the small bend of the digit pulling upwards into your cunt, coaxing any moans and sharp gasps he could from you. Your fingertips tingled, biting your lip harshly as the sensation of Butcher's smooth tongue contrasted to the rough tickle of his facial hair. You gave a quiet gasp as he sunk into you, his finger reaching the depths you were never able to by yourself, rocking slowly back and forth now. Frenchie watched wickedly, one hand moving to intertwine his fingers with yours, how he had done on the couch only an hour or so prior. His voice came in a slow purring wave, still using his other hand to string through your hair.

"That's it, Mon cher."

Butcher pressed his face hungrily to your cunt, now using his mouth more feverently, thick fingers still rolling in and out with obscene noises. His beard beaded with your arousal, his heavy lidded eyes sweeping up to catch your gaze. His eyes were soft, yet completely and entirely sure of what he wanted. Upon seeing you, Butcher didn’t slow down; in fact, he bent his finger ever so slowly, moaning at the feeling of your heat clenching obscenely around his digit. As he drew his soaked finger from you, he pulled it to his mouth, dragging it over his tongue, coating his middle finger with a dripping mix of saliva and your arousal. He pressed both of them to the other, beads of slick tangled in his beard, as he breathed raggedly - He wasn't finished; in truth, he had hardly even begun. Butcher rocked his own hips into his hand, taking in slow, drawn-out gasps as he slid his fingers in slowly. He took his time, drinking down your shifting expressions and soft moans, only propelling his need to make you his. Entirely, and absolutely. His fingers were thick, curving at the second knuckle, pressing his fingertips against your searing slick walls with a shuddered groan.

“Fuck, baby - Look at the mess you’re making,”

It was true; Your glossy arousal dripped down towards Butcher’s wrist now, his sweater sleeve rolled over his muscular arms, veins bulging as he rocked his fingers in and out of you. He enjoyed this, reveled in this feeling of watching you shake around him, legs trembling as he chuckled quietly - This would be fun. Your breathing quickened, hands desperately grabbing at any stability nearby with a tight grasp.

Frenchie was gentle with his movements as he held your flushed face now. He didn’t mind the harsh clenching of your fist now on his leg in the slightest; Perhaps you could feel just how much that power made him ache for you so hungrily. As your face became level with Frenchie’s thighs, boxers leaving little to the imagination, Butcher had taken ahold of your waist. It seemed both men were finished playing games. As you were now on all fours before the two, Butcher’s hand slowly extended, large palm meeting the small of your back and pressing down ever so slowly. Just enough until he was satisfied with the arch - Perfect to use you, Butcher’s hands on your waist as he forces you back into his hips; His mind raced nearly as fast as his heart did. As he lifted his hand, he gave a short sigh before letting it hit crack down against your ass. The sound the contact made was delicious, but the sound you made was something otherworldly entirely. He gave your soft skin a squeeze, soothing the now raising hand print with a satisfied bite of his bottom lip - He couldn’t fall off track, though. He needed this. Butcher’s hands grasped at your thighs as he returned his tongue back to your clit, taking it into his mouth greedily.

Frenchie strung his fingers through your hair as he watched the clashing mix of pleasure and pain seem to cause an onslaught of different expressions. He let a slow pleased purr leave him as he cocked his head, looking down at you. Frenchie had always looked at you with warmth, even when watching Butcher overstimulate you - Yet now, it was something else. No smile, full lips parted as he pulled in ragged breaths, as if the sight of you alone, so close to him, was enough to take his breath entirely.

“Let me show you, souris.”

He spoke as he drew one of his large hands from your hair, moving to slide over his boxers, the friction causing his hips to hitch forward - He was desperate, yet seemed to think he hid it well. He didn’t. The stain of precum on the fabric was evidence enough. You breathed hard, gasps and soft yelps passing your parted lips as you kept the contact of Frenchie's pointed gaze. Butcher was ravenous, your thighs shaking and beading with sweat as your body ground against the man's tongue desperately.

"B-Butcher... Oh fuck," You managed to gasp out of the words as your eyes squeezed shut, Butcher's tongue lashing at your clit feverently. Upon hearing Butcher's name uttered in such a desperate whimper made the man sing; He hummed, a sound emanating from the back of his throat, pushed up from his chest in a deep pleased purr. His fingers continued the motion, not wanting to push the you too hard, but still keeping a consistent pace - Just enough to make you squirm, just enough to make your knees shake. Butcher's tongue continued, unwavering as he matched the pace of his fingers; He was cruel, to say the least, yet the mewls and passing whimpers he managed to pull from you, only egged him on.

"I know, I know,"

Frenchie smiled sadistically down towards you, thumb stringing through your hair with a quiet hum. It was almost mocking, his words comforting yet laced with a teasingly playful chuckle. It was sweet watching you writhe like this - It reminded him of himself the first time with Butcher. He couldn't wait to see your reaction to be taken so ruthlessly. The thought made him twitch, arching his back almost instinctively as he kept his dim eyes on you, speaking quietly.

"You make so much noise, huh? Let's fix that,"

Frenchie sighed quietly, other hand moving to wrap over the base of his cock - He looked down at you for a moment, hand slowly moving over his length with hazy eyes; He had thought countless times about this, looking down at you on your knees with a flustered expression, tentatively using your mouth and listening to Frenchie's orders. He could see the hunger to please, down deep in your now teary eyes; Frenchie moved your head downwards, silently guiding you with a bite of his bottom lip. He exhaled sharply as your lips met the sensitive tip of his cock, beading with glossy precum - As much as he wanted to force himself into the your mouth, he held back. He enjoyed the slow movements, gentle caresses and hitching breaths, even as you trembled with flushed cheeks, clearly reaching a level of intense desperation.

"Start slow, open that pretty mouth,"

As Frenchie spoke, his hand slid from your hair, down to your jaw. He clutched it firmly, yet his thumb moved gently over your cheekbone, working towards your bottom lip. He rolled the pad of his thumb over the gathering drool on your lips, a silent request to enter - As you complied, Frenchie's thumb slid into your mouth, slowly rolling over your tongue with a shuddered exhale. You could never know just how badly he needed this. You moved slowly, still dazed, your eyes glossy as you looked up to Frenchie, and when your lips finally met the man's cock you felt the heavy veil of euphoria roll over your shoulders, the need to please, to obey. As you opened your mouth, your hot breath rose goosebumps on Frenchie's neck, who now took short sharp inhales, only able to focus on the feeling of you. You were so close, and as your tongue began to gently press against the base of him, he couldn't help but let a whimper surpass his lips. With that sound, you sunk slowly around him, tongue slowly guiding his twitching cock deeper into your velvety mouth.

Frenchie sucked his teeth, hissing a sharp breath - Despite the harsh noise his fingers still threaded through your hair gently. He wouldn't push you, he knew this feeling would just get more electric, gradually teased by your movements. His cock pulsed at the motion, a glaze of sweat already glinting at his temples, eyes rolling back to slide shut in euphoric anticipation. He couldn't get too excited, taking in the sight of you was too much at once, instead just allowing the feeling of your soft tongue to numb his senses. His fingers shook in your hair, thighs twitching as he bit back to urge to stutter his hips forward into the welcoming heat of your mouth.

"Oui..."

Butcher continued the assault on your exposed body, tongue messily lapping at your clit, swallowing down anything you were willing to give with a greed of a starved animal. His cock was aching at the feeling of you around his fingers, the resistance fighting against his quickening thrusts as he moaned quietly. The sound alone was obscene, flesh against flesh, shuddering gasps and growing moans escalating as the seconds passed by at a mind spinning rate. Butcher slowly drew his fingers and mouth away, working at his cock with his palm, now soaked in your arousal. Butcher slid his tongue over and between his fingers, refusing to let any go to waste as he lined up his thick cock to your desperate entrance.

"I won't lie to you," Butcher murmured the words, the tip of his cock slipping over your sensitive clit, teasing your entrance with a pleased hum. "It's gonna be a tight fuckin' fit."

There wasn't a beat missed, the slow burning sensation of being stretched open grasping wrecklessly at your senses, the electric basis of it forcing Butcher's body to crave more. He sunk in slowly, a growl reverberating from his chest in a deep wave of pleasure; You were a vice around him, only halfway inside you and Butcher's head was filled with the sound of his rushing heartbeat, biting his lower lip harshly.

"That's right, love - Doing so fucking good for us,"

You felt the warmth of Frenchie's cock invade your mouth, his hips twitching with restraint. Your throat began to tense against the intrusion, the sensation of forbidden pleasure flooded your veins; You wanted to believe it was the weed, the way your movements slowed as you now felt your own hips rocking, the sound of Butcher's voice a lush cacoon, coddling your sweat glazed frame with calloused hands. You felt the tip of his cock tease your swollen clit, the promise of a tight fit making your body quiver. The first thrust was a shockwave, pulsing through your body - He was telling the truth. You moaned loudly, a guttural sound that was cut off by Frenchie's cock hitching at the sudden vibration. The sensation was overwhelming, yet both men groaning in unison was a symphony. Your body lit ablaze, firing off soft gasps and muffled yelps. Butcher's low growl and praise sent waves of head spinning need through your body, your pussy greedily taking all he had to offer, grinding yourself against his thighs.

"Someone's eager, aye?"

Butcher chuckled darkly, letting the sound fall into a deep groan. The sounds of your hips rocking against Butcher's thrusts filled the room, the wet slapping of skin against skin accentuating the symphony of your shared pleasure - You let out a muffled whimper, your mouth full of Frenchie's cock, your throat working to accommodate the imposing length of him. You could feel Butcher's cock pulsing inside of you, each merciless thrust sending shivers up your spine. The combination of Frenchie in your mouth and Butcher inside you was a crescendo of sensation, your body a willing instrument in the orchestra of lust. The growls and groans of the men filled the room, the raw carnality of it all pushing you closer to the edge. As Butcher's pace increased, you felt the spasms of your senses roll waves of electric heat over your body. Your thighs twitched, the praise from Butcher, like a whip, lured you to do more, to be more. You focused on taking Frenchie deeper, the vibrations from your moans a delicious torment to him. You could feel your orgasm building, a storm crashing in your foggy mind. The heady mix of being filled by two men, one in your mouth, the other in your pussy, was a testament to your skill, a siren's song that would leave the men wrapped around your finger. The idea was mouthwatering.

Sweat glistened on your skin, your body shaking with the onslaught of pleasure. The realization of being shared between the two men, the thought of their pleasure being at the mercy of your body, sent you spiraling over the edge. You cried out, the strained sound muffled by Frenchie's now throbing cock, your heat clenching tightly around Butcher. Your orgasm pulsed through you, a tide of pleasure that threatened to drown you, pull you under with the two men that infected your mind.

"F-fuck," Frenchie's voice was practically trembling. "I'm so close

The sight of you moaning around Frenchie, your body quaking with orgasmic bliss, was enough to send Butcher over the edge alone. The taste of him was intoxicating, his hips stuttering up into your welcoming hot mouth, whispering under his breath as he focused on the feeling of your tongue. His chest rose and fell, taking in ragged breaths that began to speed up, desperate to release himself down your throat, a heady potent mix of dominance and submission, fighting to please. Frenchie came with a soft whimper, eyebrows knitting together tightly as he filled your mouth, spilling over your lips in a messy thrust. Butcher's hips began to buck, thrusts unsteady and punctuated, cock tensing and pulsating inside you as you swallowed all Frenchie could give. Tears of overstimulation peaked at his lashes, gazing at you holding him in your mouth as Butcher pounded slammed into you, his hold on your waist tight as he came, his cum flooding your quivering pussy. The pulsing of your walls around him like an insatiable vice, the near instant feeling of release a cathartic relief.

You laid there for a beat, body still trembling, the taste of Frenchie lingering on your tongue, Butcher's hot cum dripping down your thighs. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, sex, the sound of all three of you collectively catching your breaths. Butcher was the first to move, to break the hazey moment as he drew away from you with a soft grunt. You rested your head against Frenchie’s stomach, legs shaking and nearly collapsing as Butcher released his grip from you. For a moment, you feared Butcher would simply leave - Though slowly, he eased down onto the creaky mattress beside you. His large hand rose slowly, brushing the ruffled hair from your face. The the two men lay on either side of you, their hands lightly stroking your skin and hair as you all relished in the high of your shared orgasm.

"One hell of a team building exercise." Butcher muttered softly, his low voice rumbling as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your hair.

"Well done, mon cher."

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