#holy shit I spent too long writing this

[befuddled-calico-whump]

putting one more Cinderglass drabble request in your askbox (i am so sorry for the spam but i’ve been thinking about them nonstop aghfsk). again, feel free to ignore this!

i‘d love to see Sarah help Lex work through a panic attack or a traumatic flashback! maybe either so that he doesn’t have to drown himself in alcohol about it or she’s helping and calming him down while he’s drunk

Wildefire Masterlist

cw: alcoholism, emeto, hallucinations, withdrawals

He'd been sober for thirty seven hours.

Not long at all, really, but it was something, and he was trying, and it was fine.

Well, it was fine for thirty seven hours.

Outright quitting was the only thing Lex dared to do. Trying to just cut back wouldn't work, because what was cutting back? He didn't keep track of how much he drank anymore, he just drank until he felt like it was enough. Even just trying to regulate himself to one a day seemed risky business. Would he be able to stop, once he started?

He didn't want to find out.

Lex didn't tell Sarah, didn't want her saying it was a bad idea or insisting on staying with him. It was a rough ride ahead, and he didn't want to somehow hurt her in the throes of his panic or sickness. He... He didn't want her to see him like that.

So he locked himself in his room, told her not to bother him this week, that he'd be busy. The safehouse was old and decrepit but huge, and his room had a small bathroom attached, something he was doubly grateful for now.

He stocked his room with water bottles. It was impossible not to think of Sarah whenever he looked at their plastic cases now, Sarah staying up until early daylight, because she was worried. That was good. He could use his guilt there as a reminder; a reason to hold out.

He sipped at them and stared at the wall, every light in the room on, the old radio Sarah had gotten for him positioned at the foot of his bed. She'd given him a battered CD case with it, packed full of a few dozen discs. A Guns n Roses album was currently in, playing just loud enough to pull his thoughts.

She's got a smile that it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories

By now, Lex was pretty good at doing nothing, letting himself sink into the thankfulness that nothing was being done to him. Even a year after the Tower and weeks free of Uriah, the talent hadn't faded. Day one turned into night, and he didn't dare fall asleep. Just swapped one CD for another and let his mind cling to the lyrics.

Too late, my time has come

Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time

It was around hour twenty two that the headache started, and it only got worse from there. Not long after that, Lex was clinging to the toilet bowl, heaving up the half-dozen water bottles he'd drank throughout the day, his head swimming, the pit in his stomach insisting couldn't he just do this later? Would it hurt to have one drink, to get rid of this shitty feeling?

No. All or nothing.

He moved the radio to the bed, putting his ear to the speaker, trying to drown out everything else. The album came to an end, and he replaced it with another, as quick as he could without scratching the disc with his stupid metal fingers.

Suddenly someone is there at the turnstile

The girl with the kaleidoscope eyes

Fuck. He just needed to hold out, just for a few days, and this would be over. A little self control, and maybe he could call himself worthy of the people here. Not a loose end. Not an ex-enemy or a liability. Something better.

Lex wrapped the sheets around himself, held the pillow over his head to try and ease the pounding in his skull with the pressure. It didn't help. He almost fell asleep, but the nausea pulled at his stomach and his skin was crawling and too hot, and then he was throwing off the blankets; stripping down to his boxers in an effort to ease the heat.

Exhausted but unable to find sleep, he sat with his back against the cool wall and sipped water, trying to find the lyrics again and hold them.

I don't really want to stop the show

But I thought you might like to know

That the singer's gonna sing a song

And he wants you all to sing along

It didn't help, it wasn't enough. His own body was fighting him, roiling nausea and sickness insisting all he needed was one drink and it could all go away, it could all be okay (fray, gray, stay).

The radio hummed as the CD came to an end, a few seconds passing before the album began again.

What would you think if I sang out of tune?

Would you stand up and walk out on me?

At long last, his own exhaustion was catching up to him, and he dragged himself back onto the bed, the heavy feeling in his chest spreading to his eyes and mind, as the music faded to a buzz and sleep overcame him.

He woke in the Tower.

It was impossible, he knew it was, but the fear seized him all the same, the crushing weight of walls he couldn't escape, the knowledge that this time, there would be no one to free him; this time he was here for good.

And the floor was wrong and Lex knew there was never music, but he fucking knew where he was.

He sat up, wincing at the sharp pain that rang through his skull at the movement, forcing down rising nausea. No one here cared if he was sick, if he was hurt, they'd hurt him more anyway, they'd do what it took to keep him down, keep him in line. He wrapped his arms

(Arms? It's wrong, stop, you aren't---)

around himself, squeezing his torso with a pressure that wasn't comforting. He felt shaky, blurred, weak. Had they drugged him?

(just one drink and this all goes away)

He tried to reach for the techniques he'd used to get through the days, tried to remember the things he'd done to stay sane, to stay alive, but any useful memory fell through his hands like sand, leaving nothing but the shadows, the nightmares (snares, glares, spares).

He knew what happened here, in his cell (hell). He knew what was waiting to spring on him at any moment, what would surely come for him if he let his guard down (drown), if he fell asleep, if he---

"Morning, scum."

Lex froze as the door swung open. Morning? But it was so dark, but it was always dark, the light never hits you here, and when it does there are worse things waiting---

"I knew you'd come crawling back. This is where you belong, it's home."

He could hear the voice clear as day, but couldn't see its owner. It didn't sound like Wade. It almost sounded like...

"Alexei. Did you really think you could hide from me?"

Uriah Fox stood over the bed, a smug smile plastered on his face.

"No," Lex choked out. "Y-you can't--"

"You always knew it would end this way."

(Fray, pray, stray)

He climbed onto the bed, straddling Lex, easily pinning him despite being so much smaller, despite Lex being so much stronger, and he couldn't move, he couldn't breathe---

"Lex."

The pressure in his chest faded, and he gasped for air, squinting into the dim light, unable to make out anything. A hand fell onto his shoulder, giving it a light shake, and he flinched back.

"Sorry."

Sarah? He forced himself to breathe deeply, ease his eyes open. Her silhouette was blurry above him, and it was only then that he realized he was crying.

He brushed the tears away hastily with the back of his hand. "You... You should go," he managed to say.

She sighed. "I'm sorry if I scared you, I just... I heard you... screaming. Not loud or anything, but..." She tapped her earlobe. "Can't get much past these."

He swallowed, trying to push himself into a seated position, but his shoulders shook, his stomach twisting, and he fell back onto the pillow.

"Lex..." She bit her lip. "You could've told me. You know you don't have to do this alone."

He almost laughed out loud at that. What other way was there? It was his body, his choices, his mistakes. He'd drowned himself for too long, hoping it could save him, knowing it never would. He was reaping his rewards. No one else should have to deal with the mess that was him.

"I'm not your problem," he murmured, letting his eyes close again. What could she do, besides be there to fill the silence when music wasn't enough? Besides grounding him and telling him it wasn't real, he wasn't there?

"You're not a problem, Lex," she said, her voice serious. Tired. How late was it? Even trying to be fucking better, he was still screwing up her life.

"I just want you to take care of yourself, okay?" She kicked at an empty water bottle. "Is this the best way? I'm glad you're trying, I am, but don't you think it'll be easier on you if you come downstairs and hang out?"

He didn't want any of them to see him like this. "What good would that do?"

"Distract you, for one. For another, it'll be easier to remember meals. When's the last time you've eaten something?"

He sank further onto the bed, his gut twisting again at the thought of food. "I don't know."

"And have you been drinking anything besides water?"

"No, that's--that's the whole point, I'm not---"

"That's not what I meant. Electrolytes? A protein shake, maybe?"

"No," he answered after a moment.

She dropped her eyes, a grimace tugging at her mouth though she seemed to be trying to hold it back.

"Do you not think I can do this?"

"I think you're punishing yourself," Sarah said. "And I think you should stop."

Was he? His head spun almost too much to think about it. This wasn't self-inflicted punishment, it was cause and effect. It was something he had to get through if he ever wanted to move past the Tower.

"It'll be over soon," he muttered, and he hoped he was right.

She dipped her head, pressing her lips together tightly, and pushed off of the bed, moving to sit cross-legged on the floor.

"Sarah..."

"Look, I don't wanna push your boundaries, but I can't leave you like this. It's not safe."

"It'll get worse from here."

"Which is why I'm staying." She gave him a stern look. "If you want to be alone, I'll leave, but I'll be right outside your door."

Lex clenched his jaw. "I'll be fine."

"You're detoxing. You're already feverish. What if you start seizing up?"

"Then I've already dug my own grave."

"Lex." Her expression darkened. "You can't keep doing this."

"This is the only time--"

"Not this. Self-destructing. You..." She did grimace then, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You keep hurting yourself, and I can't keep watching."

He pressed his cheek further into the pillow, knees drawing to his chest. "Then why do you?" he said. "Why haven't you thrown me out yet?"

The words came out too angry. Accusatory. His own fault. Any filter he had was lessened by the pain in his head and the nausea and the fucking exhaustion. He didn't want her to throw him out, he... he needed her. Not in some bullshit emotional way, but as a reminder that there were still good things. Things worth fighting for, worth living for.

"I'd never throw you out," Sarah said, her expression turning to something that bordered playful. "I like you too much for that, you know. I just..." She exhaled through her nose, pushed soft dark hair over her shoulder. "I want you to try, okay? Can you agree to try to do what's best for yourself? To stop taking the harder path just because?"

Could he? Even if he wanted to? The harder path was what he was used to. Less traveled, less trapped. Suffering for a goal was a habit. Muscle memory.

Would the path to freedom be as clear if there was no pain to pave it?

Still, something in her voice pulled Lex to nod against the pillow. "I'll try."

Her smile shifted to something more genuine. "That's all I'm asking." She began to push herself up. "I'll, uh... I'll be in the hall then. You are eating breakfast in the morning, mister."

"You... You don't have to do that," he started.

"Do what? Bring you food? Or stand guard? I already said I'm not leaving you alone--"

"You don't have to stay in the hall." Lex swallowed (followed), and it took him a second to form the words. "You can stay here. If you... If you want to."

Her expression softened. "Yeah. I do."

She found a spare pillow and blanket in the room's closet and began to settle down on the floor beside him, picking out a new CD to start the music playing again.

While we're on the subject, could we change the subject now

"I'm here if you need me."

"I know." I need you.

It was a paradox. The easier path to recovery, to a clear head, to control being the more difficult one. Because it was untravelled. Because he almost felt he didn't deserve it, that he should bear the punishment for his own vices.

But even if the path was unchartered, he had a guide. For once, he didn't have to walk it alone.

oh, and we carried it all so well

•°•°•

Tag List:

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor @distinctlywhumpthing , @bloodinkandashes , @fleur-alise , @whumpy-daydreams , @whumpwillow , @honeycollectswhump , @snakebites-and-ink

[loppiopio]

i've been sitting on this post for a few days now and it's literally just, me making assumptions about kudos i've noticed on fics lately (particularly aci since i've been checking that fic every week for book club these past few months) and this'll make me seem more insane than i already come off but by this point. how much lower can i go?

just going from top to down as of today.

[ShibaLee] i know you from your art on here!! tumblr user shibaleeart i'm happy to see more people in potentially enjoying the stories this fandom has to offer :>

[reiscm] shizuchansmilk?? what are youuu doing here? i didn't know you read shizaya fic tbh and i was surprised to see you here suddenly, relatively recently too. does that mean you just started the fic then?? after at least a year of being in the fandom right? maybe this wasn't from your first time reading it (same) but at the very least it shows you visited it not too long ago… i may be delusional in thinking i could be a contributing factor there because, why now? it's not like i'm the only aci advocate out there but i've probably been the most vocal about it around this time soo… well whatever it is, hope you had fun with it! i'm so curious what drrr comedian shizuchansmilk thinks about hit fanfiction a cheap imitation 👁️

i'm also recognising some of the other names around here like [anonymooose] and [durarasaiki] even though i haven't the faintest idea who they might be. i've just been seeing them lately across different shizaya fics which probably means these are the people doing their shizaya fic dive around this time. i have nothing more to add there i just, think it's cool noticing the same names across fics like yeah, we all feasting on the shizaya tag rn.

[ya_boi_twink] it took me a second to recall where i'd recognised your name from and then it hit me. i knoooow you! tumblr user yaboitwink in my notifs… i appreciate you, and i'm glad you liked the things i made for it c:

[bun_o_ween] oh i know you're here because of mr crapo. i hope you guys had fun with it! i wanna take the chance to also admit that like. the moment i found out you were that sebastian writer i experienced the wildest sense of deja vu. because. i had seen your name on ao3 before. but when i checked your fics there was no way i'd read a fic from you?? so then i realised i must have recognised you... through other kudos on other fics??? dude. i must sound crazy, i have no way of proving this because i actually don't remember what fics these were i just vaguely remember it was either bsd or tgcf? that i was looking at fics for, trying to find something to sate my hunger at the time. and i just remember, noticing your name across like a few of these fics in a row and thinking "heh someone else has been going down the same rabbit hole" AND NOW I SEE YOU AND CRAPO OF SHIZAYA FANDOM HITTING IT OFF it was surreal. like. my awareness of you had zero to do with black butler, i could not have predicted that you would have been the random ao3 user i'd seen apparently enjoying some of the same fics i was not too long ago. wow.

there are like two separate flamingo related names around here [niceflamingo] and [flamingoo] which doesn't mean anything but for some reason they are standing out enough for me to want to mention them. i feel like i've seen ao3 user flamingoo in the kudos of some other fic before but idk.

[Luzki] omg hey!! twitter artist vi_138_ woah hiii funny seeing you here :0 especially like. not so long ago? since i'd imagined you would've been aware of the fandom for a while since you seem more invested in the alts than shizuo and izaya in particular? well it was cool seeing that you'd read this one, i hope ya had fun!

[frogsarefriends] right under that is artist hallucxnating >:O i know they've read the fic already but it was cool to actually recognise their kudo down here, especially since it's like. not recognisable just from the name alone, but you've shared links to this ao3 as your writing so now i know it's you. my impression is that you came into the fandom through slavhew since, i'd connected the dots at some point that you two were friends which. made a lot of sense since i noticed you both started being active around here at the same time lol. but hey!! welcome to the club :D

[7FlyingPancakes7] this is one of the ones i'd noticed earlier on during book club, i distinctly remember checking a chapter while walking home one night (because i do that i guess) then BAM what the hell?? i just see tumblr user mari-lair's ao3 appear down there, totally out of nowhere for me. for context this was a writer from the tpn fandom i recognise from like 4 years ago? idk it's been a while, i didn't talk to them much but they were active in the fandom at the time so i'm familiar with their name. i haven't been keeping up with them but last i'd seen they seemed to be into tbhk with no indication as far as i was aware that they'd shown any interest in shizaya. nothing wrong with that it was just unexpected, so i was just like woah!! how did you get here? i am so curious how they may have come across this fic, was it some rec from a friend? how familiar are they with shizaya? how invested were they in the story and characters? enough to go down more of shizaya's greatest hits? anyways, that was just a fun little small world moment for me.

[psych0tastic] hey isn't this…. axietoh? like, the artist who used to draw shizaya like 5 years ago? what are they doing here so high up the list? 🤔 i have no clue lol i still follow them because i really like their art style but i hadn't noticed their interest in shizaya resurfacing... i suppose they just haven't been too active on these socials in general. anyways their name stood out to me and i was like, wait….. well it's a shocker seeing their name so high up here, were they reading this fic for the first time there or were they revisiting it and happened to have not kudo'd it until then? well anyways, it's nice to see they've revisted the fic within the last two years at least :0 that's cool to me.

[MiyukiWynter] dude i was feeling crazy just now trying to figure out where i'd recognised this name from because i'd swwooooorn i'd seen it from somewhere like as someone on twitter?? i think i was mixing them up in my mind with unrelated (as far as i'm aware) twitter user miiyankhr but turns out they're someone who's fics i've seen in the tags before. i haven't read them myself but apparently they just posted a new one two days ago so that's crazy.

[Dodomka] heyyy it's dodo from twitter, hellooo 👋 they've been the biggest supporter for my deep in the sauce fic tweets and for that i appreciate them very much :3 didn't expect to see them here tbh i wasn't aware of when they'd first read the fic but as i was expanding the list a few times to write up this post i noticed their name here and just thought that was neat. shout-out to them!

[mochi010] there's a user named mochi that has shown up in my twitter notifs somewhat regularly and they have nothing on their account so i have zero clue what they might be like outside from that they've been liking my shizuo and izaya retweets. their handle isn't even mochi so i have very little reason to believe this could be them but idk, maybe? no conclusion has been made here. well i already spent time writing and cleaning up the paragraph, guess i'm leaving it in.

shout-out to [ouiouipussay] and [ramenflavorpacketsnorter420] just for having some names that stand out lol. i don't recognise you from anywhere but, i guess now i will if i ever come across those names again.

[Stupidusernamepolicy] i struggled to find you amidst all these names for the writing of this post 💀 had to ctrl+f that shit. but i remember seeing your name here while i was going through the list some days before and being like "oh hey!! it's slavhew :)" but okay there's actually a tangent i've been wanting to go on from here.

outside of aci i've actually been noticing you and hallucxnating double duo'ing under some fics together, like after the story era which i'd reread after hallu reminded me of its existence in a reply, and also sacramental which i had reread because of your reply, lol. i find this quite funny, just like. this visual representation of you two reading and recommending fics with each other. then you talk about it on twitter and more people like me are visiting this fic too. chain reaction of sharing stories :)

ALSO [anonymooose] and [durarasaiki] spotted down here in some of these kudos too!! that's craazy. wow. i tell you guys i'm recognising these names i'm not just crazy 😭

[NotElectricT] this took me a second to dig up again since it's quite buried down that list at this point but the plan i'd had in mind for this post was to end on this one since i saw them kudo it right in front of me (through the vc stream) and i didn't think this post would get as long as it did but... well i already wrote it 😬 but yeah, this is my good friend note! check out this art they made for, still one of their favourite chapters, sharks fly. it's sandwiched in between some squid game au they made for a gift exchange for me..... it's a long story i don't wanna talk about it (embarrassing......)

but what i do wanna talk about!! is how note (referred to as "patient zero" regarding aci book club by the only other patient lol) just decided to read this fic completely of their own volition?? i didn't tell them to do that and for sure didn't expect them of all people to try reading it, ever (they're not really a fic reader) but they just did that, two years ago. and that was like, insane to me at the time because it's seriously so out of their depth guys they don't do enemies to lovers.... they still don't lol. but i was insane about this fic back then with no one to really be insane about it to so i just yelled about it to these friends out of context and i guess???? that was convincing enough to get this one to start the longest fic they'd ever read 💀

i had much fun having someone experience the fic i'd been insane over..... like i'm smiling about it rn thinking about the time i did a live reading of the chainsaw man (as i like to call him) chapter which was so fun i kinda forgot i had a hamilton musical i was supposed to watch that evening... that was awkward. and other chats we exchanged regarding the fic (they were reading chapters whenever they felt like it which i enjoyed because i like pacing these things out) but for some reason (i think things just happened around the time that disrupted the momentum) they never made it past chapter 26 😔 which was tragic to me but oh well....

well i'm am even more insane about this fic now because of this convoluted chain of events that gradually built and cascaded me towards whatever the fuck i'm doing now!! god. i've never made so much, anything, like ever. until now. because both note and rosa (who has not kudo'd this fic as far as i'm aware lol) made the decision beyond my expectations to commit to, a book club. which i organised. and i've been having a lot of fun! so much fun, there's all this wild "marketing" stuff i've been churning out in record fucking time by my standards. i've never felt so creatively fulfilled dude, never finished a thing in my life until these past few months. so that's awesome, and it's in large part because of note having committed to this fic again. so that's some of the story behind that one kudo haha.

and now we're at chapter 49, we're supposed to be talking about it tomorrow, which is today by now since it's 1 am but uhhhhhhh writing is so hard. i was supposed to just be cleaning up this draft i'd written like 5 days ago? i am now very hungry. there's actually more i'd drafted up from here just from more names i recognised as i kept expanding the kudo list that day buuuut i'm fuckeeeen cutting this off right here. i need to stop. the end.

[the-acid-pear-ocs]

I've been thinking of giving my girls jobs. I think Luluco would work on a morgue, and Shira on a zoo or pet shelter. I'm not sure about the rest yet tho...

[xxsunoosprincess]

Heard your requests are gonna be closed soon, so i wanted you to elaborate on a little something that has been on my mind for so long

Overstimulation with sunghoon, hes just so whiney and teary eyed but just cant stop pistoning in your warm cunny😩

Can i be 🎀 anon? I love your works so much!!

ofc you can be 🎀 anon!! I’m glad to have another cutie to play with :3 and hoonie and overstim… 🎀 anon you’re trying to kill me.

Sunghoon and Overstimulation

pairing: Sunghoon x reader

warnings: 18+, minors DNI, fem!reader, overstimulation, crying, multiple orgasms, freaky asf, squirting, pet names

This night feels like any other night. No, it could have been any other night. But it wasn’t. It’s just… he just got back from tour and he missed you so much, you know? And he tried, he did, he spent so much time jerking off in the hotel bathrooms so he wouldn’t be too intense when he finally got his hands on you. Clearly it didn’t help much.

“Baby, baby, baby, fuck!” Sunghoon hisses out as he buries his cock to the hilt… again. He feels insane, he feels so good, like he’s going to die if he isn’t in your pussy. His head drops forward, the arms that he has propped himself up on threaten to collapse from under him and his hair brushes against your cheek before he finally gives out. He falls onto his forearms, burying his face into the space between your shoulder and your neck as his hips begin moving almost against his will.

“Holy shit.” He whines out as he catches a glimpse of where you both are connected. Your sweet cunt is puffy and pink from overuse, and his past two? No, three releases are slowly seeping out around where his sensitive cock stills ruts into you. “Think I’m gonna cum again, baby.”

Your shaking hands making contact with the soft skin of his cheek is what pulls him out of his trance. He can see how sensitive you are, can hear it in the way your squeal as his fingers start rubbing slow circles on your clit. “I’m sorry baby, just… just need you to give me one more.”

“That’s it. That’s my girl.” He moans out as he feels you tighten impossibly further around his length. The squeal you let out as you, fuck, as you squirt on his length leaves his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

The praise keeps rolling off his tongue, babbling nonsense, as he cums. He’s practically shooting blanks at this point, balls empty as tears come to his eyes. “baby, you’re my… fuck my sweet angel. That’s my bunny. Take it. Fuck, take my cum. Missed you so much.”

a/n: sorry for taking the past couple days off, things have been a bit nutty. Regardless, happy to be back and writing :p likes and reblogs appreciated xx - princess

taglist: @sunoofairyofsass @cha0thicpisces (dm to join taglist or fill out form)

[ellecdc]

I absolutely love love love your writing! I have a request if you’re up for it?

Can you write a possessive/ jealous wolfstar x reader. Reader is always wearing baggy clothes so when shes wearing a tight dress that hugs her curvy body for yule ball and the boys in school wont stop staring at her got remus and sirius very jealous?

thank you baby! and thank you for your request. it’s not a whole lot of jealousy, but this is my take on it; hope you like it!! 🫶

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who looks so good in a ballgown CW: no smut but mention of dicks/horniness, catcalling

There were some things that not many people knew but Remus did.

One thing not many people knew was that Sirius – in all his cool bravado – was the most sensitive person Remus knew. Sirius would cry during any and every movie, he once cried when he saw a baby chipmunk because it was ‘way too small, what the fuck?’, and those closest to Sirius knew that one must watch their tone lest the long-haired boy believe you were mad at him.

Another thing that not many people knew but Remus did was how fucking hot you were. And that’s not to say people didn’t know you were beautiful – your beauty was undeniable. 

But Remus (and Sirius) knew a secret.

Under the Hogwarts uniform? Under the boxy dress shirt, plaid pleated skirt, and woolen jumpers and cardigans, was one banging body. 

What helped keep this fact to be widely unknown was that when not in your uniform, you could usually be found in Sirius’ quidditch jersey, or Remus’ jumpers, or your own loosely fitting clothes. Your style was simple and understated, usually consisting of loose-fitting shirts and jeans or corduroys. Comfy, cozy, nondescript. It also helped that Sirius’ style was nearly the complete opposite – loud, demanding, and bold - so people spent most of their time ogling him. 

It seemed, however, that this secret would be revealed to all of Hogwarts tonight. 

“Holy shit.” Peter muttered under his breath as the Marauder’s stood dressed in their best awaiting their dates for the ball. You and Lily traipsed down the stairs in your heels and dresses whilst Peter was bombarded with various whacks to his arms and an ‘oi!’ or two from James, Sirius, and Remus.

But Peter was right, you looked fucking stunning. You were wearing a beautiful satin gown, the fabric spilling sinfully over your body like water and cascading to your ankles. Your shape and figure were further accentuated by the way the lights refracted off the shiny material, leaving nothing to the imagination. He was surprised to see how thin the straps were; there had to be some magic holding the gown to your body, surely.

Remus felt conflicted; he both wanted to throw you over his shoulder and rush back up to the dorms to ravish you and parade you around shouting ‘look at what this poor, scarred werewolf managed to pull!’.

There was one issue.

Sirius.

“What is she wearing!?” He whispered shouted to Remus.

“Pads, don’t upset her.” He murmured into his boyfriend’s ear. “Don’t make her feel self-conscious.”

Sirius let out a sound between a pained moan and a growl but nodded all the same.

You offered the boys a soft smile, shoulders migrating towards your ears proving to Remus that you were indeed feeling a little vulnerable.

“Hey beautiful!” Remus greeted you, taking your hand that adorned the charmed corsage Remus and Sirius had given you that matched the one’s pinned to their lapels and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 

“Hi boys.” You smiled, looking between the two of them. “You look very nice.”

Sirius scoffed, and Remus prayed to every deity possible that Sirius kept his wits about him. “Not half as good as you, babe! Come on, give us a spin.”

Remus let out a sigh of relief whilst your shoulders migrated impossibly higher, though you obeyed Sirius’ demand, nonetheless.

Remus dick twitched embarrassingly in his pants, and based on the pained groan emanating from Sirius, he was sure his did too. Thinking about Sirius’ dick made his own dick twitch again; this was going to be a long night. 

“It’s not too much?” You asked sheepishly as you turned back to face them, embarrassment painting your features as you looked timidly between your two boyfriends. 

“No!” Sirius shouted, but his voice came out painfully high. “No.” He corrected, clearing his throat. 

“You look stunning, my love.” Remus said more eloquently. 

You smiled beautifully albeit shyly at the two boys before your moment was interrupted.

“Circe’s tits, L/N! Where’ve you been hiding that body!?” Barty Crouch Jr called as he let out a wolf whistle, either completely forgetting or ignoring the fact that he was walking arm-in-arm with his boyfriend who only offered his brother and his brother’s dates a simple eyeroll.

“Keep walking you fuckin’ wanker.” Sirius barked.

Remus’ heart clenched when he noticed you start to ring your hands together nervously.

“I don’t know... Lily told me to go with this one, but I have another dress upstairs – maybe I should-”

“Absolutely not.” Sirius cut you off, levelling you with a look that spoke no nonsense. 

“It would be a sin to deny the world of such a sight, love.” Remus encouraged pulling you towards him and massaging at your tense jaw with his thumbs. He hoped he was giving you his softest smile possible, and the way your own expression softened in response told him he had.

“Wear what you want, dollface; I can fight.” Sirius added, causing the two of you to break eye contact, looking over to see that he was already tying his hair up pre-emptively. Remus scoffed out a laugh and you whimpered a pained ‘Sirius...’. 

“Let’s go, sugar.” He said when he was done, winking at you teasingly. “Let’s show these tossers what they’re missing.”

Remus thought you looked nervous as you allowed Sirius to hook your arms together, though he didn’t know why. You didn’t have to referee Sirius’ tussles; Remus did.

[bluemerakis]

┌── ˚*❀*̥˚ ─── ˚*̥❀*˚ ──┐

✐ᝰ bluemerakis

┗━━• ❃ ° •° ❀ °• ° ❃ •━━┛

❝ I’m the guy mothers warn you about, the son they’re afraid to have ❞

⇀ Word count: 15k words (sorry ☠️)

Guess who finally mustered up the courage to write a Coriolanus Snow fic, and holy shit, this might just be the longest once-off I’ve ever written.

My dear @quicksilversg1rl , this fic goes out to you 100x over. I hope this makes up for the fact that I couldn’t put Tom under your tree ☹️ I hope that it’s enough that I put him in your dreams instead <3

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WARNINGS:

dom!coriolanus, some out-of-pocket makes-you-go “wtaf💀” Coriolanus moments, smut, swearing, possessiveness, manipulation, toxic relationship, choking, pet names, degradation, edging, lots of italics and dashes (sorry I was feeling myself (not literally you sicko) ), masturbation, unprotected sex, cockwarming, dryhumping/wethumping(?), fingering/fisting, oral sex f receiving, the therapy you’ll need after reading these warnings

‼️DO NOT PROCEED IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THE ABOVE-MENTIONED WARNINGS‼️

SYNOPSIS:

Coriolanus had always known you held potential to win the games, from the day he’d laid his eyes on you at the 10th annual reaping. You were the key he’d been missing all these years, and how he saw almost every opportunity unlocked by your presence at that year’s hunger games.

The secret of how he’d risen into power? The answer was much simpler than anyone had expected. You. Sure, Coriolanus had done his fair share of treason and murder to contribute to his status, but it was your victory that had granted him access to the Plinth fortune and made his ambitions possible. He wasn’t a man that liked to share credit, but he thought your performance in the games a worthy enough candidate.

To show you just how thankful he was, he’d invited you to live with him after the games, for however long you pleased, and he’d made it his mission to show you all the pleasures the Capitol and his lifestyle had to offer. He liked having you near him at all times, and he liked it even better when he was inside of you.

What he didn’t like, though? When you flirted with other men, especially when it served to get a rise out of him.

Coriolanus Snow doesn’t like sharing, and he doesn’t tolerate disobedience, either. You’d learn that lesson the hard way.

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Coriolanus was a man bred for purpose, like his father before him, and it was a purpose he often reminded you of—a means to keep your neediness at bay, to tame your urge to be at his side every waking hour of the day, a ploy to remind you just how little value you posed to him outside of a night of fleeting pleasure. He marvelled in the opportunity to make you feel insignificant, a false promise too-quickly forsaken the moment your existence captured another man’s desire—a man that wasn’t him.

In the midst of a party he’d rather not have attended, he watched you from a quiet corner of the venue hall, conversing away with a man he hadn’t had the displeasure of meeting just yet. He didn’t know whether you were honestly that painfully oblivious to the desires of the man before you, who clearly wanted nothing more than a taste of one of the renowned hunger games victors, or whether you had deliberately struck up a conversation to get a rise out of Coriolanus.

But when his eyes narrowed on your hand that reached to move a strand of your hair back to the security behind your ear, he knew then exactly which particular game you were playing.

You always did that when you felt subconscious—when you knew you were being watched. It was a tell that Coriolanus had come to identify the more time he’d spent observing you. He’d needed to—it was necessary in order to know the truths you would not tell him. Not out loud, at least. But now, he was pretty fluent in your body language, in more than one way.

He watched you tilt your head to the side in the slightest manner, an act that often sent all the conservativeness of men toppling over the edge. Your lip suctioned into a concentrated bite as you offered small, attentive nods—you were getting him to think you’re interested in what he has to say, pretending not to notice the way his eyes traced your lips and occasionally flickered across your peeping breasts.

The sight stirred an anger in Coriolanus, his fingers tightening around the glass of wine clutched in one hand. He lifted the wine to his lips, taking a sip as though it would somehow quench the imminent fire that threatened to take control of all reasonability. He couldn’t let you get a rise out of him, not in public where he had an image to uphold. Goddamn you and your games, he hated being the one to play it. That had been the fate of you and the districts, not him—Capitol-born and rich beyond imagination. Was this his retribution to pay? Sentenced to your little games after all he’d brought upon you?

You moved a hand to caress the man’s shoulder, offering a sweet giggle. And then there it was, the slightest glance in his direction, fleeting but an obvious beckon for attention. Coriolanus clenched his jaw as you purposefully turned your back on him, his eyes boring into your exposed shoulder blades, framed by a dress that paraded all the right aspects of your body—a dress he’d picked out for you. He hadn’t gone through all that effort to make you look so ravishing, only for another man to enjoy it. It had been for him, a reminder of what his prize would be after enduring this insufferable party.

He’d planned to rip it from you, as mercilessly as he could offer, to toss it onto the floor and you onto the bed, naked and accessible to whatever he desired. However, you seemed hellbent on denying him a good night. He watched you reach for the man’s hand, your motion suggestive as you tugged on him and began to lead him away from the mayhem.

Coriolanus knew exactly where you were taking him.

He watched you weave your way through the dancing bodies, the music falling into the background as he trailed your every move—the way the man blatantly admired the curve of your ass. What an unacceptable circumstance, to think his favourite toy was not his own limited edition—one only he could afford to play with. After all, why had he endured the battlefield of this unfair life to claim a reward that promised power and money and control, only to feel so helpless in his infatuation over you. He hated what primal need controlled him, rendered him incapable of letting you go.

What had it all been for? The poison, the betrayal, the heinous crimes he’d committed—all to prove that he bore no seal of humanity, felt no obligation to love, until you came along, making him look the fool each time you batted a devious lash or wrung those perfect lips around suggestive words. Each time you spoke was like fragments of an enchantment, slowly being made whole and taking its magical toll on his entire being, beginning to claim everything he was—making him obsess, making him weak.

The day he’d gotten you as his tribute, you’d had been nothing more than a mission—a means to secure a prize that would set him for life. But there had been something about you, something that had drawn him in like a sudden whirlpool, now he couldn’t escape the obsession you’d cursed him with. He’d never before felt the burden of caring about another person’s life, needing to know what they were up to at all times.

Coriolanus recalled seeing you for the first time, the day of the reaping, after the tributes had been transported to the Capitol. He remembered seeing you thrown into the zoo display—the way you had instantly found your feet and ran a hand through your hair, made unruly by a rough and sleepless night. Your brows were knitted closely together with unmistakable anger, a look that promised vengeance to the Capitol despite the silence on your lips. Your dress had been made ragged to match your hair, evidence that the bats had showed no mercy toward your pretty privilege. Maybe it had been your looks that had drawn them in, after all.

He’d been ready to deem you a lost cause, disappointed that once again, he’d been stuck with rigged odds. He had been convinced that somewhere beneath that shredded fabric on your skin, you bore the kiss of rabies, doomed to die like countless before you. But he’d seen a few of the other tributes, bearing the same tells of their struggle with the bats in their shredded clothes and tired eyes. One of those amongst the suffering had been your fellow district twelve tribute, Morgan Lark, and he had possessed the worst wounds out of all the affected.

It’d been less than a few hours until the wounded tributes started retching up fountains of white, their eyes glassy and their movements frantically lost on them. Yet there you had sat, watching with perfect control and composure as they had dwindled into mere husks of the people they used to be.

Coriolanus knew then that you had been different—stronger, a tribute that might just prove the risk to be worth it. He’d insisted on investigating the cart you’d been transported in, eager to know the truth behind your journey. Had you truly been strong enough to evade the consequences of the bats? The mystery of it all was pressing enough to consume his every thought. He needed to know. His future depended on it, depended on you.

That evening, after much persistence and a bribe that he honestly couldn’t have afforded, he’d gained access to your cart. There wasn’t much to look at, given that it was nothing more than an empty container, without even the courtesy of a blanket. The scene was almost hauntingly familiar, personal. Nonetheless, he’d paced the walls, eyes searching every aspect of the metal, every dent and hole in the floor. He’d found nothing other than a few rusty nails—nothing interesting, that is until he’d picked one of them up and inspected it closer to find its apex crusted with blood.

A few of the nails were identical in their blood-coating, not a coincidence. Coriolanus gathered them up into his father’s handkerchief, almost regretting the decision as the rust stained the symbolic, white fabric. He placed them cautiously into his blazer pocket, scanning the cart one last time before making his departure. He made a beeline to the morgue, where the bodies of the five infected tributes had been placed shortly after their passing. He needed to see Morgan Lark’s body, to know what secret you could have hidden in his death.

Once he’d gained access to the corpse, he’d pulled back the white covering. A strong waft of formaldehyde greeted his senses and burned his eyes teary. He had been surprised that the body was being preserved, though he didn’t doubt that Dr. Gual had plans to somehow extract and weaponise the rabies in the next games. The chemicals had instantly become so overwhelming that he had to pull his handkerchief from his pocket, empty the rusted nails onto the tray and cover his mouth and nose with the fabric to keep his nausea at bay.

Coriolanus studied the corpse, struggling to contain his pressing disgust as he laid his eyes on the shredded flesh. The bats had gone to town on Morgan, leaving little sections of skin intact. He’d mustered up the courage to get close enough to inspect the wounds, noting that the scratches embedded along his body were not all the work of the bats. No, some of them had been too deep of a wound for a bat’s claws to commit. He had a very good idea of the origins of those wounds, his eyes flickering to the rusted nails on the tray.

He knew then that it was not strength or immunity that had protected you from the touch of death, but your keen mind and craftiness with sharp objects. Coriolanus had pieced together a rough picture of what had happened: you’d managed to get close enough to cut Morgan with the nails, ensuring wounds that were deep enough to bleed profusely, which attracted and encouraged the bats to attack him. You hadn’t been so lucky to go completely unnoticed by the bats, hence the disheveled dress, but you had sure as hell been lucky enough to have been spared from their bite.

What a clever girl you were, perhaps too much for your own good.

Coriolanus had to admit that he’d been impressed by your cruelty—your drive to survive. It gave you an edge, a promising reason to win. He liked those odds, you were becoming a plausible risk to him. Just what would you have been willing to do to a tribute you’ve yet to meet, if you’d so easily betrayed a fellow district partner?

As he’d left the morgue that evening, he couldn’t deny the smirk that had wound his lips the entire trip back. He knew then that, for the first time in all his years as a mentor, this might be the year that he’d finally claim the Plinth prize.

What a worthwhile pick you had been. He liked good investments, and you had proven to be the best one yet. You’d taken that entire game, playing it smart, staying lost in the shadows and gathering what scraps you could make into a worthwhile means of defence. You weren’t the strongest or the most skilled fighter by any means, but you were smart, and that was a quality lost on many of the tributes.

They all marched around, boasting their strength as some sort of show of dominance. They thought it made them ferocious, earned them another hour of life, but Coriolanus knew that it only drew attention, that they were stupid in bringing about a speedier death. You had known that, too.

Coriolanus slipped out of his mind, watching as you’d stopped by one of the tables to grab a snack, making a point to be sloppy so that the strange man would feel honour in being able to wipe your lips clean, spurring on his ego and his erection. You had pulled that trick on Coriolanus many times. He hated seeing you provide that same sort of attention to anyone else.

His attention was diverted to a pair of Capitol business men, who had approached him and were attempting to bombard him with pitches he couldn’t have been more arsed to consider, not when he had something more pressing on his mind—not when you had deliberately stolen his attention away.

How incredibly selfish that you should demand his time even when you were not at his side, or laying below him with your legs spread open and cunt practically begging for his generosity. He didn’t tolerate time-wasters of any regard, so he’d ensure that you made up for it.

He lifted a dismissive hand toward the face of one of the men, who fell silent with a look of indignation, but even he wasn’t fool enough to unleash his temper unto the heir of the Plinth fortune. Had Coriolanus known that murdering his best friend would have come with so many perks, he’d have made a point to bring about that particular death benefit much sooner.

He lifted the glass to his lips, draining the rich wine that had been marinating the depths of the glass for far too long. He beckoned over one of the runners, placing his empty glass onto the tray before turning his attention back to the business men.

He offered an insincere dip of his chin. “My apologies, but I’ve more pressing matters to tend to. Please, do enjoy the beverages,” he slipped between their dumbfounded bodies, before adding, “and the women, if it’d please you.”

Coriolanus manoeuvred his way through the crowd, his eyes not once leaving you, even if he had to watch you relentlessly flirt with the other man. Not only were you good with your hands, but you unintentionally weaponised your beauty, too. He had always thought you to possess an innocence that seemed to frame your features, a natural gift that kept eyes focused on the contours of your face rather than on the schemes of your hands. That had always been your advantage—in the games and in your everyday interactions.

It made him angry that you’d remade his mind in this way. No matter how much Coriolanus tried to remind himself of the purpose he’d been bred for, all that he’d done to get to where he was now, all the people he’d carelessly murdered—there was no denying the truth:

No matter what higher, callous deity he claimed to be, he was only just a man, carved from anger and burdened with otherworldly jealously. All because of you.

Just as Coriolanus had managed to push past the last of the dancing bodies that had been blocking his path, he spotted you leaving through the doors, dragging your new pet behind you. His footsteps were brisk as he made for that same doorway, his fists balling at his sides as he stifled the urge to redirect his anger unto the unsuspecting door man. No, he’d best save that anger for you, transform it into something that would make you suffer, as he’d been forced to endure this evening.

He slipped through the doors, instantly greeted by a much quieter atmosphere, the laughter and music of the event muffled behind the now closed doors. Across the room, he saw you slip into the elevator, glimpsing just a hint of a smirk on your perfect lips as the doors slid closed and engulfed his view of you.

Annoyance pricked at his chest, he’d have to wait for the elevator to come back down. That was too much time gifted to you, time that could easily be used to bring you one step closer to coming undressed for that man. He’d never found himself wishing for a stairwell more than he did right now, but Capitol architecture stupidly insisted that stairs were a concept made only for the districts.

Coriolanus trudged his way over to the elevator, running an impatient hand through his hair as he watched the countdown of the various different floors commence on the monitor. His residence was the topmost floor, an expensive suite that the Plinths had gifted him on his day of recognition. He’d been kind enough to allow you to stay in one of his rooms, to have you in his proximity at all times where you’d more than once enjoyed the free luxury of his lifestyle, and this is how you’d repaid him—by bringing other men into his sacred space.

He couldn’t help but imagine what you were up to at this instant. The thought of you trapped beneath the man on one of the sofas overlooking the city made him bite the inside of his cheek—those were the sofas he’d so often pinned you to, forcing you to admire the view as he admired you, demonstrating his praise for your beauty through the actions of his fingers in your cunt.

When Coriolanus had first met you, he had thought you hated drawing attention, especially when it warranted a much speedier death in the games. You’d always been so reserved, so hellbent on silence as you kept a calculating eyes on anybody who wasn’t you. He’d like that quiet air about you, it was a call for guidance, a plea for somebody to claim your trust—he knew he could have given that to you.

But now, Coriolanus could have laughed at that thought.

You, hating attention? What an odd facade he’d so easily been fooled by—but he’d grown smarter since your first encounter. He knew the real truth now. What a glorious night that had been, the first time he’d taken you to bed.

He could still smell the desperation that had trailed from your cunt as his nose burrowed into your swollen and beckoning clit—the way his hands had squeezed the skin of your inner thighs a faint blue in his attempt to trap them against the bed. They’d been so eager to wrap around his neck, to make him prisoner within your euphoria. He’d shown his disapproval by wedging your thighs further apart, an action that earned a shocked moan from you, coupled with a gasp at the growing aggression of his tongue inside of you.

How he enjoyed being the puppeteer of your body, pulling your limbs every which way until you’d been contorted and opened up for him to exploit. You often needed reminding that you were sentenced to his will, made prisoner to his desires.

He could still feel the faint traces of your arousal that had painted pictures across the sharp lines of his jaw, mercilessly freed by the way his tongue had ravished your folds and plucked from you what little dignity and silence you had managed to fashion up until that very moment. No matter how much you’d pretend to feel indifferent to his attention, your body had always betrayed you—it was unashamedly and passionately thankful to his ministrations.

Your pathetic moans still echoed on a loop in the dark corners of his mind—an ear worm he couldn’t discard of, though he couldn’t honestly admit that he’d want anything of the sort. It spurred him on, serving as a constant reminder of his pretty possession, and just how much you needed him—his touch, his validation, his attention. He was the poison-kissed oxygen that you couldn’t help but inhale, fooling yourself that it would somehow replenish the air in your lungs and give you the freedom of living, existing, all the while your every bodily cell came closer and closer to becoming his. It didn’t take much for him to claim all that you were and all that you could be, only the right words and that glorious goddamn night in bed.

He’d completely remade you in his image, branded you with his bedroom generosity, always leaving you with just enough to satisfy, but never enough to last for more than a few hours. You always came back begging for more.

What an attention whore.

At last, the elevator dinged its arrival, the doors opening to welcome Coriolanus inside. He slipped in almost instantly, moving to press the button of the top floor. When the doors finally closed, he became trapped in the air lingering inside, noticing a trace of your sweet perfume. He’d come to admire that scent, thought of it as a way to identify every place you’d been in. But your sweet scent had fused with the musky odour of that strange man, an unpleasant smell that suffocated your own in mere seconds. He could only imagine that same odour plastering itself to your neck and all across your clothes as the man forced himself onto you, enjoying what didn’t belong to him.

After a few minutes, the elevator came to a stop, the doors sliding open to reveal two intertwined bodies at the other end of the lobby. You were pinned against the doors to Coriolanus’ suite, the man’s hands wandering beneath your dress and up your magnificent thighs, shrivelled lips sloppily searching the skin of your neck. Your head was tossed back against the wood, eyes sown shut as you let slip the sweetest of moans, a sound that Coriolanus had claimed as his own.

He barged through the elevator doors, the sound of his angered footsteps earning your attention. You lowered your head to him, watching with a playful smile at what was about to unfold. He ignored it, the satisfaction in that grin, the sense of achievement at your ability to control him, have him trailing after you like a dog on a leash. He’d let you have this moment, to savour its short-lived existence because once he was through with this man, he’d show you just how much trouble you’d caused him.

Coriolanus grabbed the oblivious man at the collar of his shirt, too far gone to think with his brain rather than his cock to notice he’d appeared, and plucked him from you. He shoved the man away, who stumbled backwards with his footsteps serving as clear evidence of mild intoxication. The toad began protesting, before his eyes finally found Coriolanus and his lips clamped shut on a look of realisation.

“You come into my house, drink my wine, enjoy my woman, all without a trace of shame?” Coriolanus snapped, his voice gruff with built-up anger.

The man fashioned an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean any offence, Mr. Snow, I swear by it!” His hands made frantic gestures, eager to exonerate himself. “It was her that came onto me, she invited me back here, suggested we get to know each other better—“

Coriolanus lifted his chin, his glare cold as he stared down his nose at the man. “Are you implying that it’s her fault?” It most certainly was, but if Coriolanus had to endure all that had just happened, he intended to have some fun with it.

The man stilled with a look of uncertainty that passed between you and Coriolanus, his hand moving to scratch the back of his head.

“Are you even a man at all, if you’re so easily influenced by a girl that bats her lashes at you and caresses your arm one time?” He had to ignore the irony in that statement; he could’ve almost been talking into a mirror. “You’re pathetic, blaming your lack of control and better judgement on her,” he said, eyes hardening as he took a step forward, the man simultaneously retreating a step with a gulp.

“Go find whatever excuse of a manhood you claim to have in somebody else’s cunt, and don’t let me catch you back in this building. It wont be words that warn you off next time.” His hands clenched into fists at his side, itching to grab the fleeing man and grace him with a well-earned punch—but he wouldn’t gift you that satisfaction, too.

When the elevator doors closed on the stranger, Coriolanus turned to face you. You were picking at your nails busily, as though the entire interaction had bored you beyond interest.

“What were you thinking?” He snapped at you, inching closer to glare you down.

You glanced up from your hands, offering a mere shrug as you crossed your arms and glanced up at him cheekily. “I wasn’t thinking at all, really,” you admitted. “Just wanted to feel some good things.”

Bitterness found its way onto Coriolanus’ tongue. “Do I not make you feel good enough?” He scolded coolly, his eyes searching yours angrily. “Would you rather I call that prick back and have him stick his two expired inches inside you?”

A hint of hurt seemed to widen your eyes, your expression shaped with confusion. “Didn’t think you cared what I got up to,” you muttered, glancing off to the side.

Coriolanus knew that to be complete bullshit, a feeble play at attempting to settle your own insecurities. He knew what you wanted to hear from him—that you mattered to him, that he wanted you to himself, that the mere thought of another man touching you would send him into inexplicable rage. To an extent, those were all true, but not in the way you'd wanted them to be, not in a way he was capable of giving.

He restrained the anger he felt towards you, knowing that he needed to take a gentler approach. You weren't in a state fit to endure his anger, not now. He needed to coddle you, to keep your emotions intact, otherwise he risked losing you. He couldn't have that.

“I care,” he said at last, moving a hand to grip at your chin. He’d forgotten how soft your skin was, it’d been weeks since he’d been permitted to touch you, business keeping him away from your warmth. He moved your face to his, searching between your eyes and your lips. “And you know that I care, too, or you wouldn’t have put on this little display.”

“You don’t care—not really, Coriolanus,” you snapped, your hand plucking his from your chin. “You constantly remind me that I’m nothing more than pleasure to you, an object you love to parade around, so as long as it’s your name engraved on me.”

Correct, he thought, his hand returning to his side. He gazed at you, the cogs of his mind reeling busily as he cautiously selected his next words. He couldn’t be angry with you, not now when you were so fragilely being kept together by emotion. It mattered what he said to you, even if the words weren’t honest. He knew that you needed reassurance, something akin to love to cling to, to keep you satisfied beside him. The condition that came with having a toy he loved to play with, was having to look after it, to ensure it didn’t break or wear with time.

That was exactly what he had to do with you, so he fed you whatever conniving words he could to keep you indulged in whatever illusion you’d had about your relationship with Coriolanus. A necessary evil to preserve his hold over you. He was selfish that way, but you were far too entertaining to let slip, and he did rather enjoy you—your company and your body.

Truthfully, you did have some sort of hold over him, and he’d let just enough of that truth show to control you, to convince you of his love for you.

“In all my years of existing, I've never once felt compelled to share my life with somebody else," Coriolanus told you softly. He moved his hand to return that same rogue strand of hair back behind your ear. "Not until you. I can't explain it, the way the mere thought of you with another man sends me into an unparalleled rage—to think that he could give you something I couldn't. The thought of somebody touching you the way I touch you. . . It's unbearable, unacceptable."

He placed his hands on either one of your cheeks, lifting your head to face him. His words had too easily buttered you up, moulded your face with a look of infatuation. “If I didn’t care about you, I wouldn’t have followed you all the way up here. I’d have let you fuck whoever you want, whenever you want, however you want. But the fact is, I care—a lot.”

You still harboured a certain look of uncertainty in your eyes, those damned eyes that made him go feral. He could tell that you wanted to believe him, but you had reservations that he hadn’t yet satisfied with his words. He needed to say more, do more.

“Do you see me chasing after any other girl the way I chase after you?” He pressed on, grabbing your face a little more ferociously, just to sell the point. “You’ve consumed me, reduced any ounce of respect I’ve once had for myself to nothingness. I could’ve had you pawned off the Capitol after the games, to do whatever bidding they demanded of you, but I chose to keep you by my side, to spoil you with everything you deserve for winning the games. Tell me one person who’d be willing to do the same for a district nobody that they held no care for?”

Your eyes had grown teary at his words, your bottom lip quivering beyond your control. You had meant to look tougher, Coriolanus could tell, unmoved by his words, but you were only just a naive girl burdened with the need to be loved. So you believed it, every poisonous word dripping from his lips—lapped it up hungrily like a douse of honey, in fact. Perfect. He was gaining back your trust.

You caved into Coriolanus, his hands falling from your face to wrap around your body and keep you against him. His one hand curled around the nape of your neck while the other wrapped around the small of your back, so perfectly shaped to accommodate his arm. How could he be convinced that you were not made just for him, when every aspect of your body seemed to be carved just for his touch? The hand on your head began to move with rhythmic strokes across your hair, his lips moving to place a kiss on the crown of your head. He rested his chin where he’d placed his kiss, as though sealing in the sensation, before he spoke up.

“You were incredibly selfish tonight,” he murmured. You pulled back subtly to glance up at him with slightly furrowed brows, and he lifted his chin from your head to gaze back at you impassively. “You put me through hell, making me watch as you flirted with that man, touched on him all over as you promised him sex. Do you think that was fun for me?”

Your eyes glinted with a hint of guilt, your lips parting with a soft no.

“No,” Coriolanus agreed, his eyes undeniably annoyed as he glared at your guilt-ridden expression. His fingers ventured along your back, finding the zip to your dress, the only thing keeping your body prisoner in the fabric. He tugged at the zip, harshly at first, his need to punish you poking through his actions, but he had to refrain from that for the time-being. More slowly, he began to pull the zip down your body. “I think it only fitting that you should be punished for your little games, don’t you agree?” His eyes flickered back up to yours coolly, almost challenging you to disagree.

The fabric of your dress grew loose on your body, the straps beginning to slide along the slope of your shoulders. You glanced up at him in silence, not wanting to admit the words, but the neediness on your expression told him that you were all game for your punishment—not that it ever was something unpleasant. Coriolanus was always generous when it came to putting you in your place.

“Glad we’re on the same page, dove,” he said, the dress releasing your body at last. It pooled onto the floor around your heels, leaving you barren save for the bra suffocating your breasts. He glanced down at your lower half, faintly surprised to find that you’d neglected the courtesy of wearing any underwear.

"Was this supposed to be an apology?" He asked, glancing back at you through a charming smirk.

A smile broke through onto your lips. "I thought it'd make undressing me quicker," you replied, lowering yourself to remove the heels from your feet. You were glad to be free of that hell. They made your calves look good, but they were torture on your feet.

"Well, aren't you considerate?" Coriolanus responded, then paused before adding. "So you knew how this night would end, with you and I nothing but a sexual amalgamation?”

"It was more of a hope,” you replied as you straightened yourself up.

Coriolanus' constraint gave in at your insinuations, his hand moving to caress your cheek, his eyes lowering to your perfect lips that he craved to taste in that very moment. You reached up to deliver the unspoken need onto his lips, but he kept you grounded with a hand around your collarbone. "You're not kissing me with those lips," he told you. “Not after that prick has wiped his saliva all over you.”

His hand left your body to reach into his blazer pockets. He pulled out a key, his hand snaking around your waist to slip the key into the door hole. His face was intentionally leaned close to yours, his eyes narrowed with a mixture of concentration as he struggled to unlock the door, and because he could smell the man’s cologne clinging desperately to your skin. He’d need to take care of that before the evening could proceed, it was a detrimental hinderance to his cock. At last, the doors gave in with a loud click, and he pulled the key from the lock.

He leaned back with a curt beckoning of his chin. "After you,” he said, placing the key back into his blazer, his eyes not once neglecting yours.

You gave him a long stare, almost daring to be disobedient before you clearly thought better of it. You bent over to collect your dress and your shoes before turning to push the doors open. Coriolanus dropped his attention to your ass, which practically begged for his approval as it bounced with your every step. He entered inside after you, closing the doors behind him.

You ventured a few steps into the well-furnished living room of the suite and tossed your clothing onto the nearest sofa, your eyes trained on the glass walls that offered a breath-taking view of Panem. You’d always marvel over the cityscape as if it was your first time seeing it, but in all honesty, it was the fact that the lights of Panem fashioned a different colour each night, and it always seemed to illuminate new buildings and views that you’d never noticed before.

Coriolanus watched you, your hand absentmindedly reaching to hold your elbow as you admired the view—one that you’d already seen countless times before, he thought. He wondered whether you were contemplating your circumstances in this instant, as if the reality of what you’d done had finally started to sink in, and what the consequences to follow would be. He could read you fairly well, but there were still moments that your thoughts were lost on him.

“Are you scared?” He asked, his voice echoing throughout the empty space.

You turned to face him, your hands falling to your side. The lighting was dim, but the amusement etched onto your features were clear. “Scared? I didn’t survive the games only to be scared of you, Coriolanus Snow. Besides, this is hardly our first rodeo. I can’t imagine there’s much more surprises you could spring on me.”

Coriolanus cocked his eyebrows, smiling at those words. He appreciated your effortless wit. Most of Panem’s ladies were annoyingly submissive in their conversation, saying only what they thought he wanted to hear, as though it’d make them more desirable to him. You didn’t need to be told what to say, you just said it, and he was glad for it. Control could be exhausting, especially when he strove to maintain it in almost every aspect of his life. It was refreshing to know that he didn’t have to control your personality, too.

“Good,” he said, inching closer until he could reach out a hand to grab your arm. He turned you around forcefully, cool fingers teasingly tracing the skin of your shoulder as he made his way down to the clasp of your bra. He undid the hook, freeing your breasts from the pretty white lace, before tossing it onto the sofa beside your other discarded items. He turned you back to him, his eyes instantly lowering to the hardened nipples crowning your soft breasts. “Somebody’s eager,” He jested, his voice a soft rumble as his eyes rose to meet yours. “Did you want something from me?”

“You know I always do, Coryo,” you responded, taking your lower lip into a subtle bite.

Coriolanus’s eyes hardened at that nickname. “Don’t call me that,” he demanded. That version of himself had died a long time ago.

Your eyebrows cocked at his tone, your lips momentarily pursed before you asked, “should I call you Mr. Snow instead?”

“Just Coriolanus,” he replied, rolling his shoulders to remove his crimson blazer. Your eyes were stalking his every move. He could tell that you wanted nothing more than to reach out to what little clothing remained on his body and tear it away mercilessly—that you wanted him to take you right here at this very instant. But he was faintly impressed at your patience as you decided against any reckless action, instead opting to wait for his next command.

He folded his blazer and draped it over his arm, his free hand beckoning for you to follow him to his bedroom. “Come on.”

Your eyes followed his footsteps, your disbelief keeping your feet glued to the ground. Coriolanus glanced over his shoulder when your footsteps didn’t commence behind him. Your reaction was justifiable. He’d never once once invited you into his room in all the months you’d lived with him. He knew that you were foolishly thinking that this moment marked an intimate milestone in your relationship, that this act was an attempt for him to show just how much you meant to him.

“Problem?” He asked.

You willed away the dumbfounded look on your face, offering a half-hearted no as you caught up to Coriolanus. As if the sentiment was fragile, you merely walked ahead of him in silence, afraid that one wrong word would revoke the invite.

He trailed behind you as you approached the door to his bedroom. You tossed a glance over your shoulder as you sought out confirmation in your actions. Coriolanus gave a small nod, an encouraging smirk poking through. You smiled back, turning your attention to opening the door. You slipped inside, your attention instantly flying to the furniture that occupied the space. It was modest, very limited to necessities.

The bed, needlessly big, was slightly undone, the comforters left untidy as though he’d just climbed out of bed and the covers half pulled from the pillows—a picture frozen in time. A plate and a mug was stacked onto the bedside table, the previous day’s clothes draped across the sofas near the windows. Your eyes were fixating every detail around the room, as though burning a mental picture into your mind as a souvenir for later.

Coriolanus moved to place his blazer beside his other clothes on the sofa. “Sorry for the mess,” he offered, moving to undo the buttons of his waistcoat. “As I’m sure you know, I don’t usually have the worry of entertaining guests.”

You turned to face him, your eyes lowering to his skilful fingers. “I like the mess,” you responded, making your way over to him. “It feels personal, seeing this side of you—allow me to.” You shooed his hands off the waistcoat, taking his place in undoing the buttons. You glanced up at him seductively, your eyes flickering down to his full lips.

He watched you undress him, slowly but surely, knowing that he could’ve done a much faster job. But he allowed you to take on the role, knowing that it made you feel important, that your body would show him just how thankful you were and how much these little details meant to you. Once you had unfastened the last button, you removed the waistcoat and admired his toned and broad physique, painfully concealed behind his white shirt.

Coriolanus glared at your wandering eyes, wondering whether you were trying to picture him naked. He’d never been fully undressed in all of their little rendezvous, it was something far too intimate for him. And there had only been a few occasions where he’d fucked you with his cock and not his fingers or his mouth. He’d found himself deriving the utmost pleasure when he got to solely focus on how you came undone for him, how powerful his every movement upon you really was.

When your hands moved to undo the buttons of his shirt, he grabbed at your wrist. “Not yet,” he told you. “You still reek of him.” You frowned at his words, your hands falling to your sides in disappointment. “Come with me,” he said, moving past you toward the bathroom. “We’re going to take a little bath.”

Your interest peaked at his words. “We’re going to bath together?” You asked curiously as you followed after him.

“You’re going to bath,” Coriolanus corrected as he reached the large alcove bathtub. He leaned over to turn on the tap. “I’m going to watch.” His hand trailed the many soaps and balms that lined the rim of the bathtub. He’d made it a mission to collect every scented product he could manage once he got his hand on the money, simply because he could, and he liked smelling good.

“Sounds perverted,” you shot at him, crossing your arms as you watched him draw your bath.

He grabbed ahold of a rose-scented oil and began pouring it into the water. “You didn’t agree to live with me because of my normalcy,” he said distractedly. “But because you knew just how much my so called perversion had to offer your pathetic, little, touch-starved body.”

He tossed a glance at you over his shoulder, satisfied by the red gleam that had snuck onto your cheeks. He turned his attention back to the tub, reaching for a bottle of bubble bath. He began adding it to the water, a few droplets reaching up to stain his shirt.

“In any case,” Coriolanus continued. “It’s the least you could do for me after tonight’s shit-show.” He placed the bottle back against the wall, closing the tap once the water had reached an appropriate level. He unbuttoned the cufflinks of his shirt and rolled up the sleeves, taking a few paces back. He jerked his head at you. “Go on,” he demanded.

You unfurled into a dramatic stretch, parading your breasts as you faced him. “Join me.”

He fixed you with an unwavering stare, not so keen to play into another one of your games. “Get in.”

With one last glare, you turned and dipped one leg into the bath, instantly pulling back with a hiss. Your head snapped to face him. “It’s too hot,” you protested.

Coriolanus moved to retrieve a chair from the corner of the bathroom, placing it a few inches from where you stood. He sat himself down, offering a mere shrug to your words. “Good observation.”

“I’m not going to burn myself bloody just so that you can get off,” you spat.

“Then let’s kill some time while we wait for the water to cool down,” he suggested, his eyes once again tracing over every inch of your exposed body with keen interest.

You looked open to his request. “What did you have in mind?”

Coriolanus’s eyes flickered back up to you. “Touch yourself,” he said earnestly. You paused at his words, suddenly looking self-conscious, before you hesitantly began to caress your breasts. He watched your fingers squeeze and grope at your skin, imagining that it were his own hands in their stead, only he’d be a lot less kind in his touch. Your fingers trailed teasing circles around your nipples, further hardened at your own toying and his intense observation.

“Lower,” he ordered, feeling frustrated at your lack of venturing into your lower extremities.

Your eyes glinted at him, a look that seemed to say greedy. Yes, he was. Who could blame him? He’d grown up starving for most days of the year, now he’d take as much as he wanted.

His eyes fixated the hand that lowered in a painfully slow motion across your stomach, reaching that sweet spot housed between your legs. As your fingers began to fondle with your clit, you threw your head back with a pitiful moan. He knew he could’ve extracted a louder sound. He almost felt obliged to take over, but he had to remind himself that you were undeserving of his touch, that you needed to be punished with the urge to feel him, yet be denied that pleasure.

A few minutes of your fondling had passed before your ministrations eventually became too overwhelming to maintain control over your body. You lowered yourself to the bathmat, your hand not once leaving your cunt. You spread your legs open, offering a broader view to Coriolanus. Your eyes were glazed over as you glanced at him. He tilted his head slightly in approval, feeling his own cock growing interested at his view of your pathetic situation.

“That’s good, sweetheart,” he praised, noting the way your eyes lowered to his pants. He parted his legs slightly to take the pressure off of his growing erection, eager to hide his arousal. He didn’t want you to notice just yet how much he was truly enjoying this. Your movements eventually became more erratic, incoherent sounds spewing from your lips.

“I need you, Coriolanus,” you managed to blabber out, your tired head resting onto the rim of the bathtub, eyes periodically fluttering closed as you alternated between consciousness and whatever universe of pleasure was found behind your eyes. “Please,” you begged.

“You’ll have me soon,” he said, “when I see it fit.”

“I’ve been good for you,” you protested breathlessly. “I’ve done everything you told me to.”

“You have a lot to atone for,” Coriolanus pointed out, his eyes lowering to where your hand had slowed its movements. “Don’t stop until I tell you to.”

You glanced at him past your tired lids, but you obliged nonetheless, adding a finger inside of your cunt to increase the pressure. He supposed it was fair, if he had refused to place his own fingers inside of you. He couldn’t help the smirk that crept onto lips as he watched a stream of white begin to trail from your opening, recalling how good you tasted. It was a shame, really, that it would go to waste onto the bathroom mat instead of onto his appreciative tongue. From the sound of your pathetic mewling and your ragged breathing, Coriolanus knew that you were growing close to your high. He didn’t intend for the fun to end just yet.

“I want you to continue until you feel like you’re going to cum,” he told you, though he wasn’t sure you’d heard him past you own noise. “And then I want you to stop just before that happens.”

“That’s mean, Coriolanus,” you managed to say.

“You haven’t seen mean yet, dove,” he said. “Now stop talking and focus.”

Your fingers picked up their pace with a newfound eagerness, the knot in your stomach growing inescapably larger, the urge to come undone becoming harder and harder to contain. Coriolanus wasn’t sure you’d obey his command at this point, you looked too far gone to resume control over your own actions. His eyes narrowed, watching closely at what fate you’d choose to follow. Much to his disappointment, you practiced constraint, your hips shooting up with anticipation, only to sink to the floor as you denied yourself the orgasm.

You glanced at Coriolanus past your teary lashes, a silent request for praise. He heeded your need, rising from his seat to crouch beside your slumped figure. He combed the loose hair from your face, wiping away the beads of sweat that dotted your forehead.

“You’re too good for this world,” he murmured sweetly. He felt as though he could have choked on the banality of his words, but the soft look in your eyes as you gazed up at him made it worthwhile. He nodded to your hand, still resting on your cunt. “Show me how good you felt.”

You pulled your hand from its playground between your legs, creamy white webs entangled on your fingers. They pulled a string along your stomach as you lifted your fingers for Coriolanus to study.

“It almost looks like you don’t need my help,” he chuckled, his hand fastening around your wrist to bring your fingers to his lips. His blue eyes bore down into you as he took each of your fingers into his mouth. One by one, his tongue hungrily weaved around them, claiming your juices from your skin.

You gazed at him with a wild look ablaze in your eyes. “Don’t I deserve a taste?” You said. “After all, I did all the hard work. I deserve to taste the fruits of my labour.”

“You should be modest,” Coriolanus said once he removed your fingers from his mouth. “Nobody likes a brag.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” you retorted lightly, your eyes glinting with exhaustion. “I like you.”

“Mhm,” he offered softly, placing your hand gently onto your chest. He reached his hand between your legs, an action that caused your thighs to stiffen around him. “Relax,” he cooed, pressing his palm into one of your thighs, encouraging you to open up to him.

“Sorry,” you said, easing off the defensiveness. “I’m sensitive down there at the moment.”

“I’ll be careful,” he promised, gazing at your fragile expression. Fuck, he could take you right here. His fingers moved with caution as they glided along the folds of your drenched cunt, gathering up your cum into untidy clumps. He followed a trail of arousal that had traveled down into the cleft of your ass, pressing a teasing finger into your asshole.

You gasped at the sudden invasion, and Coriolanus’s throat rumbled with a chuckle. He removed his fingers and brought them to your lips. You glanced at his slender fingers, not needing much convincing to take them into your mouth. You turned your attention to him as you began to suck at him suggestively, exaggerating your head bobbing as you made a point to cover the entire length of his fingers.

He watched you with a lopsided smirk, enjoying the whore-like behaviour you so willingly offered him. Now and again, he’d thrust his fingers a little too deep, more than what your throat could handle, which caused you to gag around him. Strings of your saliva had begun to slither down his exposed forearm, pleasantly warm on his skin. He imagined his cock in the stead of his fingers, enjoying the same warmth and wetness your mouth had to offer.

When you’d decidedly had enough of licking his fingers clean, you pulled your lips from him with a characteristic pop. Coriolanus reached that hand over the bathtub, dipping it into the water to feel its temperature. It had cooled down considerably, but it was still warm enough for a worthwhile soak. He withdrew his hand and wiped his fingers onto his shirt.

“The bath will get cold soon,” he told you. “Get in.”

“Is that all?” You asked disappointedly.

“Get yourself cleaned up, and I’ll show you what I’ve got in stock for you.” He straightened up and took a few paces back as you perked with new resolve and found your feet.

He backed up to reclaim his position on the chair, crossing his legs as he watched you. Your back was momentarily on him as you climbed into the bathtub, the water sloshing a welcome. You submerged yourself into the warmth almost instantly, a content groan reverberating in your throat. His eyes lowered to your hand, which had began to spread the foam of the bubble bath across your bare chest and breasts.

“The water’s so good,” you murmured.

“Don’t get too relaxed,” he warned.

“Why don’t you join me, Coriolanus,” you said, your eyes fluttered open as you moved to fold your arms onto the lip of bathtub. You rested your chin onto your arms, glancing at the erection he could no longer conceal. “I’ll take good care of your little cock, that should keep me on my toes.” Your expression beamed at your choice of words, deliberately chosen to get a rise out of him.

Coriolanus merely scoffed at your teasing. He had many things to prove, but the size of his cock was not one of them.

“You sure you could handle me, since you’re still so sensitive down there?” He asking mockingly. He leaned back into his chair, his hand coming up to clench his chin, the other grabbing his elbow.

You tilted your head prettily to one side. “Only one way to find out,” you murmured, leaning back against the wall of the tub as you kicked your foot out and onto the edge. Water splashed partially onto the bathmat, but most had been caught by the bare floor.

Coriolanus lowered his eyes to the puddle. “You’re making quite a mess for someone who’s been in here for less than half an hour.”

“Give me an hour and you’ll see just how much of a mess I can make,” you challenged.

He lifted his chin to face you, his eyes narrowing the slightest. This side of you was something he’d never experienced before; you were a lot more daring, undoubtedly brought on by the importance you felt at being allowed the opportunity to bathe in his bathroom and in his company. He’d like to test just how long you could keep up this illusion of bravery, and how quickly you’d drop it when he had you sprawled onto his fingers.

“Come here, then,” he said, uncrossing his legs and spreading it as an invitation for your thighs.

Your eyes snuck a peak at his hard on before you broke away from your slutty pose and climbed from the warmth of the tub. You took a few steps toward Coriolanus, water and soap slithering down the curves of your body and onto the floor.

You stopped short of his legs. “You’re sure?” You asked, eyes making a point of the shirt and pants he still wore. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable with a little less on?”

Coriolanus grunted from a place of impatience, reaching out his hand to grab at your wrist. He pulled you into his lap, rough hands guiding your hips to comfortably straddle his clothed thighs. The soapy water coating your body began to bleed into his clothes, his pants the most affected, but he could hardly be arsed in this moment. He just needed to feel you, needed to use you. His fingers gripped at your thighs, his heavenly blue eyes boring down onto your strained expression as he began to forcibly guide your bare cunt over his bulge.

Coriolanus’s movements set a generous pace, endorphins bolting through your core each time his bulge struck your sensitive clit. The texture of his pants was harsh on your skin, creating a friction that seemed to generate copious amounts of heat—screw sticks and stones, this method of fucking could have started all the fires in the world. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your lower half instinctively beginning to cooperate as you rocked back and fourth in sync with his guidance.

Your head came to rest in the chiselled crook of his neck, his earthy fragrance fucking heaven-sent on your senses, further engulfing you in bliss. His throat vibrated against your ear with strained moans, they came as subtle grunts that prompted his hands to speed up the pace. He was so eager to feel you, to settle his drawn-out erection. You winced as his fingers burrowed into the skin of your thighs. He’d neglected all caution in your handling, his need to control your movements overpowering what slither of consideration he’d held for your comfort.

It didn’t take long for the stinging sensation to blend with your pleasure, slurred moans pouring from your lips as you felt cum begin to leak from your entrance. It lubricated the fabric of Coriolanus’s pants, offering some relief from the coarse material. You screwed your eyes shut and pressed your face into his shirt, eager to muffle the mewls of pleasure you seemed to have zero control over. His chest rumbled with a breathy fuck, and you felt his body momentarily convulse with the overwhelming feelings your bodies shared.

You turned your head, your nose brushing against the skin of his neck. Your eyes fluttered open, drinking in the view of his adam’s apple, so prominent and manly. It bobbed as Coriolanus swallowed a moan. You brought your furthest hand forward to hook the side of his neck, pulling him against your lips. He didn’t resist, it’s almost as though he was too focused on his own work to pay attention to your own dealings. You littered sloppy kisses all across his neck, placing extra emphasis around his adam’s apple. You kissed all around the bulge before giving into your thoughts and dragging your tongue over it, leaving a sloppy trail in your wake.

The warmth and wetness of your tongue on his throat made Coriolanus release an unexpected groan, a hand leaving your hips to wrap around your throat. You let slip a chuckle at his action, and he held you out in front of him, his cold eyes glaring into yours as he decided to brutalise his movements. You moaned loudly, the sound strained as you forced it past his suffocating hold on your neck.

“Coriolanus,” you choked out breathlessly, your hands sliding along his broad shoulders. “I need you inside of me.”

“You’ve waited this long,” Coriolanus muttered. “You can wait a little longer.” His hold on your throat grew tighter, your vision starting to blur behind a mixture of fresh tears and your compromised oxygen.

He watched your eyes flutter closed and your teeth clench as you inched closer and closer to your edge, your nails digging through his shirt and into his shoulders, steading yourself against his aggression. His singular hand on your hip began to cramp at his incessant groping and steering, but he was beginning to feel his own orgasm approaching, and that was motivation enough to push through—that, and your whorish desperation.

He released his grip on your neck, the air returning to your lungs as a cough and a splutter. He hooked the nape of your neck and pulled you into the comfort of his shoulder, urging you to rest your tired head there as he finished you both off. With both hands once again firm on your hips, he picked up the pace. He rested his chin onto the crown of your head, his eyes fluttering closed as he allowed the scent of your conditioner to swallow his senses.

With each movement, he brought you down harder onto his cock, craving rougher strokes. The squelching of the cum coating your folds and spreading along his pants was music to his ears, and he gritted his teeth to bite back his ragged breathing so that he could continue to hear the way he’d transformed your cunt. He could feel his own pre-cum trickling from his tip, the warmth spreading along his shaft by the generosity of your wet folds. Fucking hell did he yearn to be inside of you, almost as much as you craved him, but he had to be stronger than his own desires.

It didn’t take long before every nerve tracing the length of his cock began to fire rapid impulses, the prolonged stimulation proving to be too overbearing. His lips parted with strained breaths, the black abyss behind his eyes beginning to birth a cosmos of anticipatory stars. The image built and built until he thrust you one last violent time along his cock, his hips rocking up into you, delivering just the right ounce of pressure before white engulfed his vision.

His grip on your hips loosened, his ears buzzing with the aftermath of his high. He hadn’t even realised that you’d come undone before he had, your whimpers and vulgar pleas lost in his concentration. The only evidence of your orgasm was the new patch of wetness that had marked his pants, a generous mixture of squirt and cum.

Your breathless voice sounded at his ear as you moved your head from under his chin. “I want to feel like that all the time.”

“That can be arranged, dove,” he chuckled hoarsely.

You felt his hand leave your hip, the skin there instantly growing cool. He dragged his fingers repeatedly along the wisps of your hair. It was as though he were petting a dog, only his touch was a lot gentler and more intimate. You allowed your eyes to flutter closed, your lips parting with a content sigh as you waited for the ecstasy of your orgasm to dissolve. You rested your chin on his shoulder, listening to the calm of his breathing, focusing on his hand caressing your hair.

You pulled back to glance at him, his eyes questioning as he returned your stare. Your attention moved to his lips, they looked so soft and plump, not nearly red enough. You’d been robbed of the opportunity to nibble on them, to contort them between your own lips, to taste the wine he’d downed at the party. You didn’t think you’d be properly satisfied until you got your wish. Did that make you ungrateful?

Coriolanus offered a faint smirk, your thoughts loud and clear. How selfish of him, he’d forgotten to kiss you during your little ride. Not a train-smash, he had the entire night to make up for that. His hand on your hair tightened there, forcing you into his vicinity. You wanted to protest at the hairs pulling at your scalp, but you hadn’t gotten the chance, not when his lips silenced yours in a hungry tumble.

He didn’t kiss you as often as you would’ve liked, but when he did, it was always imbued with passion, his movements erratic like he’d been starving and you were the first source of food he’d encountered in days. You got lost in the movement of his lips, the pace so fast that you couldn’t properly match it, though not for lack of trying. You allowed yourself to be swept up in his kiss, accepting that he was in control.

Coriolanus moved his hands to grab ahold of your breasts, his attention marvellously divided between fondling them and tracing his tongue along the inside of your mouth. You moaned into him, the sound muffled and lost to your entanglement. His teeth scraped against your bottom lip, offering a sharp nip that caused you to wince in surprise. You felt his lips broaden in a smug smile, his hands neglecting your breasts and trailing a seductive path down your waist to deliver a crisp spank to your ass.

The skin stung where he’d struck you, but he was so quick to soothe the ache with gentle rubbing. The curves of your ass fit so perfectly into his palms. He pulled his lips from yours, not sparing even an instant for you to process his movements before his sharp nose found sanctuary in your cleavage. He littered kisses there before moving to plant a trail around the circumference of your breasts.

“Coriolanus,” you moaned, your head lolling back.

He hummed against your skin, a halfhearted acknowledgement. His hand found its way between your thighs, his middle finger sliding between your labia where beads of your brand new arousal waited to greet him. He slathered his fingers in your juice, lubricating the skin before he slid his finger into your entrance.

Your entire composure collapsed at that, the built up suspense of needing him inside you satisfied at last. Your entrance clamped around him at first, the sensation always forgotten with how few and far apart these glorious moments were spread, but within a fraction of a second, you melted onto his finger.

You nibbled at your lower lip, the bite deepening as Coriolanus’s teeth found your nipple. He alternated between tugging at your hardened buds and swirling his tongue around and all over it, mischievously marking steaks of saliva along your skin. A few seconds later, his ring and index finger joined the party within you.

Your grip on his shoulders lowered down his back, eagerly clawing at the hard and chiselled muscles, but his damned shirt got in the way. You pulled back, Coriolanus’ lips robbed of your breasts. He glanced at you, his fingers continuing their thrusts. Your hands flew to tug at the buttons of his shirt. The first few you’d managed to undo, but you had finite patience for the others, resorting to an aggressive tug that split the buttons from the fabric.

“Are you going to pay for that?” Coriolanus jested lightly.

“I’m sure there’s plenty more shirts where that one came from,” you said hastily, yanking the sleeves down his broad shoulders.

You instantly dove in to kiss at his chest. He’d never been excessively muscled, but he was still strong and toned, his frame broad and absolutely mouth-watering to gaze upon. Your hands wandered along his chest, sliding along his shoulders and down his arms. You attempted to tug his shirt all the way off, Coriolanus aiding your motion as he momentarily pulled his fingers from inside you.

He rolled his shoulders and removed his shirt, tossing it onto the floor. You glanced at his torso, now completely exposed to you. You couldn’t stifle the smile on your lips, thinking that he looked a lot like a male stripper—bare-chested yet still clothed from the waist down, presenting himself on a chair. All he was missing was a sexy dance of some sort.

Coriolanus frowned at your gawking. “What’s on that mind of yours?”

You pursed your lips. “Nothing,” you answered, placing a kiss on his lips. You moved to murmur in his ear, “now If it’s not too much to ask, would you kindly stick your fingers back inside of me?”

When you withdrew to look at him, Coriolanus wore a wicked smirk. “What a slutty thing to say.” His fingers returned to your cunt, but instead of easing his way inside, he opted for his whole hand at once.

You didn’t know whether you were more shocked at his gesture, or the way your cunt had easily welcomed him. His movements were considerably less cautious than before, but you didn’t care about that now, only that he was finally inside of you. You let out a lengthy moan, so eager to verbalise your appreciation. Your hands moved to cup your breasts, squeezing and kneading them together as you tilted your head back.

You closed your eyes and focused on his hand inside you, how each thrust grew deeper and closer to your sweet spot. It’s as though he’d already mapped out your insides, his fingers knowing exactly which way to wander. Gods, you truly didn’t know whether you or Coriolanus enjoyed this more. He kept up a regular pace for a while, and you’d quickly grown impatient and needy for his brutality.

“Faster,” you complained.

Coriolanus slowed his movements, coming to a complete stop. He wholly expected the miserable look on your face as your head snapped down to face him. How could he allow you to think that he was here to serve you, as opposed to you serving him. He wasn’t just going to hand you what you wanted, life certainly hadn’t been that generous with him. No, you’d have to work for it.

“Okay, we can go faster,” he said, cocking his head slightly. You regained a spark at those words, but it quickly blew out at what came next. “But you’ll do it yourself, since you’re unsatisfied with what I’m giving you.”

“I didn’t mean it like that—“ you attempted to protest, but Coriolanus cut you off with free his index finger pressing against your lips, his lips fashioned in a hush.

“No talking,” he murmured. “Just get to work.” He beckoned down to your cunt, his hand motionless inside of you.

Devastated at having to do the work yourself, you crossed your arms around his neck, your expression adorably resentful as you lifted your hips and began to ride him. Coriolanus lowered his free hand to rest at your hip, his attention wandering to your breasts. He couldn’t have ignored them even if he tried, not when they were bouncing inches from his face and calling out for attention. Your moans quickly commenced, your hips already starting to tremble with your next orgasm. You tossed your head back, your movements becoming uncoordinated, like your body had already started to give up.

Coriolanus felt your walls begin to clench around his hand, glancing up to glimpse your face. “Look at me,” he called to you. Your head lowered to face him at once, your eyelids drooping. “Are you going to cum?” He asked, and you nodded eagerly, followed by a strewn out moan.

Good, he thought. His hand on your hip began to press against your movements, interrupting the pace you’d managed to get going. Your eyes widened as your orgasm retracted into a dissatisfying gasp, the high that had been building instantly collapsed at your sudden lack of movement.

“Coriolanus,” you snapped, your tone coming across as a whine. You’d become frustrated with his teasing, and your body shared the sentiment. Your clit ached now, exhausted tremors seizing every muscle of your body. “You’re being a dick!”

“No,” he countered, pulling his hand from your entrance. He looked condescending as his eyes flickered across you face. “I’m punishing you, just like I promised. You’re getting exactly what you deserve, but you’re spoiled and used to getting your way.”

You didn’t have anything to retort, so you glared at him in silence, ignoring the hurt that his words had inflicted upon you.

“Don’t pout,” he murmured, wiping his wet hand along your thigh.

Then, without warning, he hoisted you up at the thighs and manoeuvred you bridal-style from the bathroom towards the bedroom. He lowered you onto the undone comforters of his bed, leaning down with you to place a swift kiss on your furrowed brows. He straightened up at the foot of the bed, his hands reaching for your calves.

“You want to cum?” He asked, his fingers wrapping around your legs to pull you down the bed and closer to where he stood. “I’ll make you cum, over and over again.” That was a promise.

Your lips parted with shock, words scattering from your tongue as his hands travelled over yours knees and grabbed at your thighs. He pried your legs apart, exposing your cunt to him. The last view you captured of him was the way his eyes traced your exposed lower half, a barely noticeable smirk pulling at one corner of his lips. Then, his head dipped into you, his tongue flat and rough on your folds.

You threw your head back into the sheets, your fingers instantly curling into the material as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded and preventing you from getting carried away into another universe. Coriolanus was conscious to strike his nose against your tender clit every so often, clearly enjoying the way it sent a jerk through your body. It was like his own personal control-switch to play with. You were too exhausted to limit the noises that you produced for him, so everything came out a loud and blabbering mess. You didn’t ever want to stop being touched this way.

Coriolanus was a clean man. He liked to keep his hair tamed, his jaw void of any developing beard that he felt would deface his appearance. But it had to have been a week since his last shave, you thought. You could feel the faint stubble poking through, grazing your intimate area as he ravished you below. It was the perfect addition to your arousal, adding just enough noise to push you into overstimulation.

You fought the urge to lift your lower half from the sheets, to greedily claim a deeper thrust of his tongue. He wouldn’t take kindly to that, and you didn’t think you had the capacity to endure any more teasing. Instead, you opened your thighs even wider, your hands releasing the comforter to grip at your breasts.

Coriolanus approved of your behaviour, his praise coming in the form of his tongue up your entrance. You let slip a breathy gasp, your jaw clenching at the lightning that seemed to obscure your vision.

“Fuck, Coriolanus,” you drawled, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Please—let me cum!”

He hummed against your clit, the vibrations serving as the fucking icing on top of this sex-themed cake. You core knotted, your breath catching in your throat. Your eyes screwed shut, the pressure building and building and threatening to spill over as Coriolanus’ tongue picked up the pace. He twirled your clit around, his fingers pinching at your thighs, and just like that, your body released all the tension of the evening.

Your chest bobbed up and down with heavy breathing, not feeling as though you could bear to open your eyes. It’s only when you felt Coriolanus’ warmth withdraw from your thighs that you lifted your head to glance up at him. He straightened up and met your gaze with an impressed look, his perfect lips offering a smile—a genuine smile. The sight set off butterflies in your stomach. He was proud of you and your performance.

“You did well, dove,” he praised.

You beamed at his compliment, words not easily extracted from him. The sheen on his jaw caught your attention, your heart jolting with shame to see him absolutely doused in your juice. It trailed well down his neck and onto his chest, making a point to follow the natural contours of his pecs.

“I’m sorry—“ a hand flew to your mouth, hardly believing that you’d produced a mess of that magnitude.

“Sorry?” Coriolanus mocked, his perfect teeth flashing in a laugh. “Don’t be. It’s a compliment. You show your appreciation like a real woman, just the way I like it.”

You watched as his hands lowered to his red trousers, his fingers moving to undo the button. You glanced back at him in alarm.

“You didn’t think we were done just yet?” He asked, his smile turning wicked as he unzipped his trousers and pulled it down. “I edged you twice,” he explained. “And I’d like to think I’m a fair man. So,” he paused and lowered his underwear, which freed his erection. “I owe you another good time.”

He stepped out from the last of his clothing, towering over your body as he inched his way toward you. “I won’t lie, though,” he murmured once he’d reached your ear. “I’m doing this mostly for me. I think I’ve waited long enough to feel you, really feel you.”

You glanced up at him, your eyes large and pleading like a pathetic mutt begging for scraps. “I don’t think I can take any more, Coriolanus.”

“Did it feel good, what you did just now?”

“It felt like heaven,” you told him softly.

“Then this time will feel like being completely reborn,” Coriolanus insisted, his hand relocating hair from your sticky face. “And even if it doesn’t, you’ll push through because this is your punishment, and punishment is not always meant to be enjoyable.”

You glanced off to the side, hating how much the cold look in his eyes stirred something inside of you.

Coriolanus found satisfaction in the way his words kept you silent. He grabbed your chin and turned you back to him, his thumb pressing into your lower lip before he planted a hollow kiss in its stead. He placed his forearm beside your head, leaning onto that side as his other hand reached down for his cock. He gave a lazy pump across his hard length, a pathetic attempt at spreading his pre-cum. He didn’t need to do any better, not when your drenched cunt offered enough lubrication for him to enter without a struggle.

And it did, without a single hitch, as he pushed himself inside of you. Your soft gasp sounded in his ear, his attention still trained below. Once he was sure he was properly inside of you, he turned his head up and placed his arm on the other side of your head. You felt so warm and welcoming, definitely a lot more relaxed than the previous times he’d stuck his cock inside of you.

He began to thrust, not having much patience to start slow and gradually build up the pressure. This entire evening had been leading up to this moment, the opportunity for him to be in this exact position. He’d spent all of his patience, now he just needed to finish what he’d set out to do. He was pleased to feel your hands snake beneath his arms and take up a hold on his back, that is until your nails suddenly sunk into his skin.

He let out pained moan, his gaze growing fierce at the satisfaction on your face. Two could play that game. He withdrew his length a far way out, his tip almost slipping from your entrance entirely, before he rammed himself back inside with an animalistic thrust. His tip collided with your g-spot, a harsh and sudden greeting to the sensitive area.

You let out a scream, your stomach lifting against him. Before you could process the shock, he rammed into you again, and again, and again. Each time, he returned with the same force, and not once did he fail to miss his target. Your nails in his skin continued to sink deeper, the both of you reduced to nothing more than grunting and gasping.

The bed creaked with every movement, the room echoing with the raw percussion of your skin-on-skin contact. Coriolanus bucked into you with such aggression that he began to moan with every sway of his hips. His hands, trapping your head on either side, slipped behind your head to grip at your hair. He yanked, opening up your neck to him. You moaned as his lips buried against your skin, the tip of his nose flattening into you as his teeth sought out your skin.

His movements became jerky, his teeth gritted as he grunted against your neck. You slipped a hand from his back to bury it into his hair, fastening your fingers around his blond wisps that had turned curly from the sweat of his activity.

“I’m going to cum,” he breathed into your neck, his hand flying to one of your thighs. He pulled it up to wrap around his lower half, his thrusts growing violently needy. “Fuck,” he spat, then called your name desperately. You felt too good, especially now that your walls seemed to clench around him—he knew that you were close, too.

Your second orgasm arrived, the hot wetness pooling around his length. He couldn’t maintain his control anymore. At last, he gave himself over to his pleasure, his movements becoming sluggish as he felt his release inside of you. He didn’t stop his thrusts, not until he felt himself empty every last drop inside of you.

Coriolanus collapsed beside you, his hand finding your cheek and pulling your head against his chest. For many minutes, nobody spoke, each one struggling to regain their breath. His other hand held your lower body against him, keeping his cock secure inside of you. He could feel your mingled juices leaking along his thigh and onto the sheets, a mess he didn’t mind right now.

You burrowed into Coriolanus’ arm, a tired sigh leaving your lips. “Fucking hell,” was all you could manage to say after an ordeal like this. Tonight had been his most brutal fuck thus far.

Your body ached everywhere, and you weren’t sure your swollen clit would ever forgive you for what you’d brought upon it. You supposed it served you right for trying to make him jealous by flirting with another man. You’d never stupidly test his limits that way again, that was for sure. You two laid in comfortable silence, riding out the last of your highs.

“Coriolanus,” you called to him softly, your fingers playing with his. “Do you love me?”

Coriolanus tilted his head down to you, his eyes widening at the sudden question. His lips parted to say something, but he quickly bit on his tongue. It was clear that your need for his attention had grown into something more profound, that you’d started to care about him in more than just what he had to offer your body. He turned his gaze up to the roof. “My position doesn’t permit me the time to love,” he answered carefully.

Your hair shuffled against his arm as you sat yourself up to face him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He turned his gaze back onto you, calling your name softly. “I have goals to achieve in this world. It leaves little time for relationships.”

Your eyes held disappointment. “Then what’s the point of all of this?”

“The point,” Coriolanus said, taking your hand into his, his thumb rubbing comforting circles across your skin. “Is that we keep each other company, offer a comfort that others couldn’t gift us even if they tried. We satisfy each other in ways that only we know how to.”

“So I’m just a source of entertainment to you?” You snapped, attempting to pull your hand from his, but his grasp on you tightened.

“Am I anything different to you?” He asked, his tone level, his cool eyes challenging. “Don’t mount a high horse, not when you entered this knowing exactly what you were in for. I take care of you and I make you feel good—that’s plenty more than you would’ve gotten back in the district and in any other location in the Capitol, for that matter. Would you rather go back to your district, back to a cold bed and an empty stomach with nobody to rely on? Maybe you’d rather I put you on the market for as some Capitol slut looking for her next sponsor. I can make that happen—“

“No!” You interrupted, your hard eyes thawing with a look of horror, like you’d recalled all the terrible memories of your life in the district. It was far from pleasant, a past you’d have liked to forget for good. You had nobody, nothing to return to.

As for the Capitol, you knew that there were infinite weirdos and perverts that would marvel at the opportunity to get their hands on a hunger games victor, especially one that had been branded by Coriolanus Snow more than once. You could only imagine what sort of prize that made you, a collectible to be displayed. The thought made your stomach turn.

“I don’t want that,” you said, your head lowering in defeat. “I just want you.”

Coriolanus’s eyes raked across your figure, so slumped in submission and hopelessness. He realised then just how much he’d broken you, reshaped you into a lapdog that would only eat directly out of his hand. “Good,” he murmured. “I want you, too. Only you.” His free hand moved to cup your chin, tilting it to face him. “And maybe. . . you could teach me how to love.”

Your eyes widened at those words, the hand clasped in his going stiff. He tugged at you, pulling you into him. Your head found its way nuzzled into the crook of his neck, his chin moving to rest atop your head. He continued to play with your fingers, his other arm cushioning your neck and holding you against him. He felt your breathing slow into an easy sleep, your warm breath flushing against his chest. He closed his own eyes, breathing deeply at the sweet scent radiating from your hair. He allowed it to lull him to sleep, mulling over your interaction.

He’d known the truth for years already—that his heart bore no capacity for love. It had saddened him, at first, made him feel as though he’d been formed wrong in the womb. His father had loved his mother enough to bring him into this world—his cousin, Tigris, had loved him, too, to the point where she’d have sacrificed everything to ensure that he’d survived the war. Sejanus, too, had loved him like a brother, trusted him with all that he was, and it had ultimately killed him.

All his life, Coriolanus had been cradled with love, but he’d been forever cursed with the inability to return it. It had taken him years to accept it, until one day, everything had clicked into place.

Perhaps he wasn’t meant to love, not when the world had become a disastrous mess in need of order, in need of somebody to bring it to that stage. He knew then that he could offer the order that Panem needed. Peace came at the cost of blood, and blood came at the cost of strength. Strength meant that love had no place and no say in the hard decisions to be made, for its love that made you vulnerable, and vulnerability was a weakness. He didn’t bear that weakness, and he never would.

As for you? Well, you were somewhat of a complicated matter as of now. When it came down to it—the decision between you and his destiny, he’d choose destiny without a doubt. But for now, he’d keep you close. He’d shower you with attention, spoil you with his touch, offer you everything you’ve ever wanted in a partner. And once you’ve lost all worth to him, he’d discard of you.

Coriolanus knew that his path was one headed straight for the top, to claim the title of president of Panem. All that he’d done to get here, everything that he’d achieved up until now, it was all just the beginning. He was glad now—that he could not find it in himself to love anyone. It left him free of any liabilities, gave his enemies not even a fraction of power to hurt him.

For it’s the things we love most that destroy us.

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You MUST know I had to include that iconic line

Anyways, I’m sincerely sorry that this fic is like 15k words. I always tell myself to keep it simple but I’ve literally got no say over what happens once my fingers start typing away. I hope you all have enjoyed this read. I’m not TOO sure how I feel about it, but I think I’ve just gotten to the point where I’ve proof-read it so much that I honestly can’t stand it anymore.

This is my first every coryo fic and it was incredibly daunting to write, considering that he is such a complex character to portray and because I unintentionally resorted to flowing between his and the reader’s perspective, which I usually hate, but shit happens. I’ve never read the books (I am getting them for my birthday yay) so it was difficult to get inside of his mind given that I’ve never trod there before. In any case, I hope that I did his character justice in this blabbering mess, even if I did add my own sadistic twist lmao.

MERRY CHRISTMAS MY LOVELIES🎄

Your comments & reblogs are always appreciated. Thank you!! ~

I take requests (so long as I’m comfortable writing it) <3

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[buckybarnesb-tch]

Religious Teachings -Klaus M.

Okay so…I may have taken the innocence thing just a bit too far? I grew up Mormon and now I have a shit load of religious trauma and I think that propelled this one a bit so…I hope it was everything you wanted and if it isn’t I’m so sorry😅 but this is probably the most fun fic that I’ve ever gotten a request for and now I want to write more like it🤣

I apologize in advance

Warnings: Major Innocence Kink which pushes its way into Dub-Con, Breeding Kink, Daddy Kink (Dd-Lg), Religious Trauma

DD:DNE

This is a Religious Fic.

Don’t Like = Don’t Read!!

It’s possible I took the innocent thing a bit too far but considering you didn’t want her to know what sex was at all I assume that’s what you wanted? I hope it’s what you intended.

If you had told Klaus that one day he would work at an all girls catholic school he wouldn’t have believed you. Here he is though, Saint Holy Mary’s School for Girls as an Art teacher and he’s never been happier.

When Klaus met Y/n he knew she was perfect, she had been home for summer break at the time and Klaus scared off some teenage boys making vulgar comments to her as she walked home. They talked for a few minutes and it didn’t take Klaus long to understand that she’s innocent. Alarmingly innocent. She’s a teenager who is almost an adult that no one has taught about sex, and while Klaus wanted to know how that’s even possible, he decided instead to just enjoy the gift he has been given in the form of his innocent little Bunny.

She was shocked to see him in the school but pleasantly surprised, she blushed whenever he spoke to her, blushed whenever she saw him in the halls or at meals and blushed whenever he complimented her projects. Klaus had spent nearly 2 months just getting her comfortable in his presence, she spends a lot of time with him and often helps him with things that get her out of different classes. Y/n loved spending time with Klaus just as much as he did with her, she proved it the first time he touched her, though she clearly hadn’t understood what was going on and he found it truly adorable.

‘Might as well just spend the rest of class here love, there’s 20 more minutes.’ She shrugged, blushing as he pulled a chair over beside him for her to sit in. She made herself comfortable and Klaus couldn’t keep from looking at her legs, the short skirt she was forced to wear everyday showing several inches above her mid thigh and he couldn’t stop from imagining them wrapped around his head. ‘So, tell me Y/n, what made your parents choose this school for you? Were you too naughty for them to control anymore or did your parents go here?’ Once again her face was red as she quickly corrected him.

‘My mom went here! I didn’t-I’m not-‘

‘I was teasing love, I know you’re the most innocent girl here.’ He was still teasing her, wanting to see how she would react and she didn’t disappoint him.

‘I’m not that innocent. I just don’t like to break the rules…my dad never paid much attention to me when I was a kid unless I did something right so breaking the rules wasn’t really an option I guess…I don’t like-‘

‘You don’t like people to be disappointed in you. It’s a good thing, but I don’t think anyone could be disappointed in you Bunny, you’re perfect.’ He could practically smell the blood rushing to her cheeks as he rested a hand on her knee but she didn’t pull away. ‘Such a good girl.’

‘Thank you, you’re always so sweet, I love getting to talk to you Mr.Mikaelson.’

‘Ah ah ah. What have I told you about that? You call me by my first name now that we’re friends. You wouldn’t want me to be…disappointed in you would you?’ He questioned, moving his hand up to hold her thigh and seeing his fingers only about 2 inches from touching her panties making her breath just a bit heavier.

‘No! I’m sorry, I just, it’s weird to call a teacher by his name is all-‘

‘But we’re friends. After all this time I thought we were…more than friends even?’ Her eyes widened and she held the sleeve of his red Henley tightly.

‘Of course we are! We’re best friends! I’m sorry Klaus, you know I love spending time with you.’ He couldn’t help his smile at her nearly idiotic level of innocence as she thought he meant ‘best friends’ even as he has his hand almost under her skirt.

‘It’s okay. I love being your best friend, you’re my precious little Bunny. I could never really be disappointed in you love.’ His hand squeezed her flesh and she gasped quietly just before he caught a heavenly scent coming from her making his fangs ache in desperate need of being buried in her throat. In the 2 months he had known her, he had never smelled that sweet slick between her legs until now and he could see as she pushed them together that she didn’t quite understand what the feeling in her stomach was. He would have to teach her everything…he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset about that.

For the next month he got her accustomed to him touching her, arms, legs, back, face, his hands anywhere on her body wasn’t something she minded, not even when he hugged her from behind and rested his hands on her lower belly. That’s when he knew, when she leaned back into him and pushed her thighs together, he knew he could have her.

The next time they were alone together he made sure they had plenty of time. Y/n was scheduled to stay at home that weekend but Klaus made sure something came up with her parents so she couldn’t go. When she spoke to him, he convinced her to not tell the school and just spend the weekend at his place. It would be fun. She was so excited by the idea of spending time with her friend outside of school that she barely worried about the broken rules, getting off at the first bus stop after leaving the school and hopping into his car with a huge smile on her face.

Klaus had gotten all kinds of snacks and drinks, ordering takeout and relaxing with her eating everything she’s not normally allowed to. He had also gone to the store and gotten her clothes, both pajamas and day clothes to wear if she wanted to go someplace tomorrow or Sunday, all of which were short or revealing and he had her change into black short shorts and a tank top with a wolf on it. Last but not least he put on an R rated movie. She argued but didn’t put up too much of a fight about it. It was a horror movie and she was shocked by the cursing and the drugs, but she enjoyed the stupidity of the characters and how they died.

It wasn’t until they got to the reason Klaus chose this movie that she seemed uncomfortable. She watched as the teenage boy pulled his girlfriend onto his lap and ripped her top off, her tits flashing on the screen before he seemed to make a meal out of them.

Klaus had ensured that Y/n was pressed against his side firmly with his arm around her waist so that he wouldn’t need to pull her closer when the scene came on.

As the boy continued kissing down her body he flipped the girl over and ripped off her panties, shoving his face into her. Y/n gasped, completely stunned by this action and looking up at Klaus in shock. ‘What are they doing?’ She questioned and he looked down at her, trying to stay neutral.

‘They’re having sex love, being normal teenagers. You…you know what sex is…don’t you?’

‘Of course I do, I…it’s to make babies…my mom said I didn’t need to know until…until I was ready to get married. They’re sinning.’ Klaus chuckled at that and Y/n looked back up at him confused before turning back to the television and watching as the boy began thrusting into the girl roughly and she began crying out in pleasure.

‘All teenagers have sex Y/n, it’s more strange not to have done it. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t support mindless sex with a bunch of people you don’t know but if you love someone, really care for them then you should express that with them. You don’t have to make a baby, there’s ways to avoid it if you want to but sex is called ‘making love’ for a reason, it’s the best way to express your care for that special someone.’ She looked confused but he could also smell her excitement. ‘They love each other, so they’re making each other feel good. It’s normal and I’m so sorry you’ve been deprived of basic knowledge…do you see her face?’ He asked, knowing exactly how he was going to convince her to let him touch her. ‘What does her face look like?’

‘Happy…really happy.’

‘Right, and the sounds she’s making? Tell me, what do her sounds make you feel?’ Her face was redder than he had ever seen and she looked away from the TV quickly before he tilted her head up. ‘It’s okay Y/n, I love you. You can tell me how you’re feeling. I would never betray your trust and tell anyone anything. You can be honest with me…do you want me to tell you first?’ She nodded quickly and he tried desperately to hide his smile. ‘Well, when I hear her moaning like that I…honestly it makes me desperate to know what you would sound like if you felt good.’ Y/n was now turned toward his body and holding his Henley tightly, clearly trying to calm her breathing as she got too excited. ‘What are you feeling right now? I won’t make fun of you, I want to help.’

‘I…I feel tingly in…in bad places Klaus…sometimes when-Oh God-‘

‘It’s okay. You’re doing so good Bunny, so, so good for me.’ He pulled her onto his lap gently and ran his hands up her sides.

‘When you…t-touch me I get…I feel hot…and tingly…and I get…I-I get-‘

‘Does your pussy get wet for me Bunny?’ She groaned out, in embarrassment and relief both but he didn’t care as he gripped onto her thigh tightly. ‘It’s normal. It means you love me a whole lot, just like I love you.’ Her whimper was quiet but instant.

‘You do?’ He nodded. ‘Do…do you get wet too?’

How stupid is her fucking mother that she could teach her daughter basic-fuck that women!

‘No Bunny, but my cock gets hard for you whenever you touch me, or I think about you, sometimes at night I touch myself and just think about how precious and beautiful you are and it makes my cock feel so much better. When a man’s cock gets too hard it hurts and you are always the one who makes the pain stop, you make me feel so good Precious.’

‘Are you in pain now Klaus?’ She wondered and this was exactly how he knew he would get her to let him do anything he fucking wanted.

‘Yes Bunny, I’ve been in pain since the movie started.’ She looked up at him in shock and worry making him wince a bit as he moved to prove his discomfort.

‘How do you make it stop hurting, I can-I can leave you alone if you need-‘

‘Don’t leave me Bunny, no! Please? I need to hold you Y/n, don’t go-‘

‘Okay. I’m not going anywhere.’ She reached up, running her fingers through his hair and it sent a shiver down his spine.

‘Have you ever seen a cock before?’ He asked her and she shook her head, probably thankful she couldn’t get redder than she is. ‘Do…do you want to?’ She hesitated before looking back up at him and nodding, trying to look determined which made her all the more adorable. He moved slowly so she didn’t get scared, it had been probably about 200 years since he had fucked a virgin and he knew he needed to be even slower with Y/n. He pushed his sweat pants down along with his boxer briefs, his cock standing straight and hard, leaking at the tip, and completely red which seemed to make her believe he was in serious pain.

As if Y/n couldn’t control herself she reached her hand out and touched his tip, dragging her finger down his length before yanking her hand away when he groaned. ‘I’m Sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you! I-‘

‘No Bunny, no! You made me feel so good, so fucking good! Please just…oh God, please touch me? Please Bunny, help me?’ His desperate cries of pain were too much for her and she reached out, wrapping her hand around his cock, watching him throw his head back as his hand tightened on her thigh. She pumped her hand up and down his length a few times before her eyes found his tip which was leaking. She swiped her thumb across it and his hips thrust up, nearly throwing her off of his lap. ‘My good girl, so good for me! Such a good little Bunny for your Daddy! Don’t stop? Please?!’ He held her hand and helped her speed up for a few moments before looking back down at her and his eyes flashing to her lips. ‘Y/n…will you do something else for me?’

She nodded quickly. ‘Anything Daddy.’

Fuck! He could have cum right there and been completely happy with it but he pushed it back. ‘Please? Daddy needs your lips.’

‘My-my lips?’

He nodded. ‘Please? Just the tip if you want, suck on it like I gave you a lollipop…can you do that Precious?’ She looked back down at his cock before smiling and nodding her head, moving from his lap and kneeling. He could see the excitement in her eyes and he knew right away he was creating a desperate whore. He was going to ruin this girl and he couldn’t care any fucking less, she would belong to no one but him for the rest of eternity and he would never let anyone else touch her perfect body so…how wrong is it really?

She wrapped her lips around his tip and suckled, tongue running over his slit which made his legs stiffen and shake as she did it again, dragging her lips down his length and moaning. That was the final straw for him. He had imagined her mouth and her noises so many times and nothing came close to this, she was perfection and she was never getting away from him. He held the back of her head still as he came up into her mouth and though she jerked a bit at first she got used to it and quickly swallowed, sucking on his cock for more. ‘Did I make you feel better?’ He couldn’t speak, only nod in that moment of total bliss, head thrown back against the couch to keep her from seeing the dark veins under his golden eyes until he could get his hybrid visage under control again, Fuck this girl does things to him! ‘Can I have more cream Daddy?’

‘Oh Fuck!’ Her innocent eyes and words were going to push him over the edge much too quickly. ‘Daddy…Daddy wants to give you more cream. I’ll give you Daddy cream all you want Babygirl but…do you think Daddy can put it somewhere else?’ She tilted her head, looking up at him from her knees. ‘Do you trust me?’ Y/n nodded her head quickly and he smirked, knowing this would be easier than he thought. ‘Can I show you?’

‘Yes Daddy.’ God he’s going to stretch her pussy so much this weekend there will be a permanent indentation of his cock. He lifted her up and laid her onto the couch, throwing his shirt away and grabbing ahold of hers, pulling it off and quickly keeping her arms from covering her perfect tits. They were just the perfect size for his hands and so fucking cute that he couldn’t resist leaning down and wrapping his lips around a nipple, her hips flying up when his teeth nibbled. He took full advantage, dragging his hands down her sides and holding onto her shorts and panties, nibbling again and pulling the clothes down and off as her hips thrust up again. ‘Daddy!’

‘Shh…it’s okay Y/n, it’s just Daddy. I love you Bunny, and I want to spend the rest of eternity at your side making your pussy drip for me, do…do you want me?’ He asked, seeming nervous so that she feels needier for him.

‘Yes Daddy, forever but…you’re my teacher, how-‘

‘You let me worry about that, Daddy will make it all okay…just let Daddy…let Daddy inside of you.’ He groaned, pushing her legs apart and squeezing her thighs with an image of his girl round with his baby burned into his brain, silently begging whatever Gods exist if any to allow him to be able to put a baby in his Little Bunny. Leaning his face down into her wetness he licked his tongue up her slit, lapping at her like a thirsty animal before caressing her clit with the tip of his tongue.

‘Oh Daddy! Don’t Stop! Please?!’ He didn’t, he shoved his face into her cunt and ate her like his life depends on it. He wrapped his hand around hers as he wiggled his tongue against her clit and felt her legs lock around his head as she reached her peak for the first time ever, crying out so loud he knew the neighbors would hear if he’d had any. When he pulled away he crawled back up her chest and kissed her neck, lining his cock up at her hole and pushing his way into her before she had time to have doubts, still on cloud nine as he pushed the last 2 inches in a short thrust and she squealed.

‘That’s it Bunny, oh god you’re so perfect. So fucking perfect! So tight on my-‘

‘Daddy! Y-You’re in-inside…you can’t-‘

‘Clearly I can. And I am.’ He turned her face to look up at him and made sure she was looking him in the eyes. ‘My cock is in your pussy right now, so deep you can practically feel me in your guts, can’t you?’ She nodded, whining. ‘This is my pussy now, all mine. No one can ever take you away from me…you have the most perfect cunt I’ve ever seen baby.’ He pulled back a few inches before pushing in again and pressing his lips to her lips for the first time. ‘Tell me Bunny, what was it you wanted from Daddy?’

‘Daa-ah!’ He thrust up again when she didn’t answer and he smirked, feeling his fangs trying to push out of his gums as he became more and more desperate to mark her.

‘Tell me what you wanted.’

‘D-Daddy cream…wanted m-more Daddy cream…please Daddy? Can I have more?’ She was begging now, whining in desperation for his cum in her womb.

‘Daddy will always give you cream. Daddy’s gonna fill you with so much you’ll be leaking for days. We’re going to fill you with cream for the next 2 days and maybe I’ll keep you even longer just to make sure it’s all properly fucked into you.’

‘Yes! Daddy cream! Want you inside me Daddy, inside me forever! Your cock feels so good! Why did no one tell me it feels so good! Can you stay inside me forever? Daddy, please?’

‘Oh Bunny…Daddy’s gonna breed this little body so much, gonna fill you with my cum over and over again until you’re a leaking, fucked out mess, until all you can do is whine and babble my fucking name! Until all you can say is ‘please Daddy more?’ And I’ll fill you over and over until it takes and you’re carrying my baby inside of your gorgeous body.’ Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, his hips thrusting harder as she realized what he meant, what he was really doing. ‘That’s right Bunny, you’re gonna give Daddy babies, gonna fill you with my babies over and over and still you’ll be desperate for more. Cause you know what bunnies do? They breed, they breed like crazy, they get Fucked-‘ he thrust hard getting deeper into her, now holding her legs up and getting as deep as he physically can. ‘-until they can’t anymore and then they do it again cause they’re so needy and desperate and slutty that they can’t stop. You have a slutty little pussy Bunny, are you ready for Daddy to fill it?’

He knew he wouldn’t stop even if she said ‘no’ but he wanted her to want it, because she is his for the rest of eternity. ‘P-please? Daddy cream! Fill my pussy Daddy! Please?!’

‘That’s my good girl. Daddy’s good girl, gonna be so full of me! Fuck!’ He shoved his cock into her as deeply as he could, feeling her pussy squeezing him through her own orgasm and practically milking his cock for all he could give her and Klaus had never felt so blissful, not in 1000 years.

He kept himself buried inside of her cunt, holding her close and pulling a blanket over the both of them, nuzzling into her throat to find some comfort before drifting off to sleep with the TV sound in the background.

Sometime in the night Klaus had moved them upstairs to his bed and cleaned the both of them up. Later that morning he was awoken by the girl in his arms moving, opening his eyes to see her sitting up and keeping the sheet wrapped around her body.

‘I saw it all last night gorgeous, might as well leave the sheet.’ She turned her head to look down at him and as soon as he saw the tears in her eyes he was moving. ‘Oh no, Bunny! No tears, why are you crying?’ To his relief she didn’t fight him, crying into his bare chest as he held her.

‘What am I going to do?!’ She cried, wrapping her arms around his neck and sniffling.

‘What do you mean? You’re going to stay right here, with me. I love you Y/n, and all you and I did last night was show our love for each other, there’s nothing wrong with that-‘

‘Unless I’m Pregnant! My Mom Is Going To Kill Me! I’m a disappointment to God and my father-Oh God My Father! He’s gonna kill me-‘ Klaus clamped his hand over Y/n’s mouth to stop her sobbing.

‘No one is Ever going to hurt you, and do you know why?’ She shook her head, tears streaming down her sweet face which he reached to wipe away. ‘Because you’re my Little Bunny. All mine. You asked last night why you weren’t told how good you could feel, remember?’ She nodded. ‘You weren’t told so that they could control you. You’re almost an adult and no one told you about anything, that’s wrong and cruel and dangerous! You gave yourself to me last night and I am going to spend the rest of our lives worshipping my girl like a Princess…you still love me…don’t you?’

‘Yes! Of course I do Klaus! I love you so much but my father will never let me be with you! He doesn’t care what I want, he will choose my husband once I graduate-‘

‘Y/n, you’ve already chosen. You’re 18, an adult, able to make your own choices. No one can tell you what to do anymore unless you want them to…we can go. Go back to the school, pack your things, I’ll quit my job and we can be together.’ Klaus knew when he looked at her curious eyes that he had her, he was going to make this happen and the best part is Y/n will think she made her own decision for the first time ever.

‘But what about your job? We’ll go live together with no income? I won’t have a diploma so I can’t get a job to-‘

‘You will never have a job!’ Klaus swore and she looked startled. ‘I have plenty of money, I’m an artist, I sell my work all the time. I worked in that school because…because I fell in love with you. I know it’s crazy, of course it is but I couldn’t leave you Y/n! You were already my everything…please tell me you’ll come with me? I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted! A wonderful house on acres and acres of woods and privacy, no one to bother us…except maybe my siblings on occasion but they’ll love you! Your parents won’t be able to control you anymore. You can wear what you want, anything you want, eat what you want, read, write, study, learn whatever you want! I’ll give you jewelry and silk sheets, a maid, the library you always talk about wanting, I can-‘

‘I just want you…’ Klaus’ eyes widened at her soft words. ‘I don’t need all that fancy stuff if I have you…don’t get me wrong, it sounds wonderful but can…can you promise me you’ll never leave me? That it will always be us for the rest of forever?’

He smirked at that, knowing instantly that the deal was sealed, Y/n is all his. ‘Forever and a day my precious girl. I love you so much, and we’re going to be so happy together.’ Y/n grinned, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his lips to hers in a wonderful, needy kiss. ‘I’m going to make you scream in pleasure every night until you can’t remember your own name anymore, Bunny.’

She pulled back from his lips, peeking up at him with a shy look. ‘Daddy’s gonna give me babies?’

And just like that his cock was so hard he felt like a teenager again, desperately horny with an erection that won’t quit. Y/n is going to be full of him there’s no way she won’t end up carrying his child and he already has plans to speak to a witch about ensuring it. ‘Daddy’s going to fill you with babies everyday, every single day until it takes. Gonna keep you so full you won’t know what it’s like to be empty anymore…in fact, we should fill you up before we go get your things, shouldn’t we?’ Y/n squealed as Klaus lifted her, sitting her onto his lap and holding her up with one arm around her waist as he lined his cock up with her dripping hole. ‘Already soaking wet for Daddy, my needy little whore. So perfect-‘ She gasped loudly, looking down at him in desperation.

‘Not a whore Daddy! I’m not! I would never-‘

‘No, Shh, Shh, Shh. It’s okay Princess, My whore. Daddy’s whore, My girl who will do all the wonderful, depraved things Daddy wants you to. Do you understand? Not A whore, My whore. Any other cock comes anywhere near you I’ll cut it off and stick it up their ass.’ He pushed his cock up into her and she whined, still a bit sore from last night but feeling too good to care.

They ended up staying in bed for another 4 hours, Klaus filling his girl 3 more times before taking a nap together. Getting to the school and compelling the Dean was arguably too easy and they were long gone before Y/n’s parents ever came looking for her. It’s not like they would want her back with how badly Klaus had corrupted her.

Their little girl was gone.

She’s Klaus’ Little Bunny now.

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

[neonovember]

hiiii

could you write carmy x reader where she’s a high school friend and carmy always had a crush on her (but he thought she had a crush on mikey) ???? like maybe richie brings her up, and that she’s still in town and SINGLE and carmy gets red like a tomato and ??? richie makes her visit the beef and candy almost has a heart attack?? idk give me some in love carmen !!

pretty pleaseee and thank u

so I got this request and I immediately thought of swim by chase atlantic, and specifically the line that goes;

“I’ve been drowning for a minute, your body keeps pulling me in” 

And holy shit if that isn’t Carmen in his denial-in-love with a long time friend era, I don't know what is. Carmen tries too hard to forget you, but you've marked permanently, you've ruined him for anyone else so can you blame him for waiting for you all this time?

Seriously though this request was so good! I got a bit carried away and turned into a 2 part series that may or may not have drabbles added to the universe…I really hope this isn't just a load of word vomit you don't want to read lmao. I just love their dynamic so much, and also FRIDAY DINNERS AT THE BEEF IS CANON OKAY.

Golden Boy

part one of 2

warnings: miscommunication (i know i'm sorry), friends to lovers, carmen and the reader have horrible communication skills and don't know how to call, angst, anxiety

a/n: part two will be up hopefully tomorrow so look out! it may or may not include a smut scene 😈

p.s, listen to swim whilst reading this you'll thank me later

You sat hunched in the tight enclosure of the classroom desk chairs, the once loud conversations fluttering across the huddled groups of classmates and friends that stood against tables and chairs now coming to a standstill.

The air of anxious trepidation falls across the atmosphere of the damp classroom, the windows that had been opened to let the air in felt thin as you and the rest of the students you had known for half a decade waited for that familiar ring of the bell.

The bell that would solidify your last day in this classroom, in these run down halls, in the school you had first stumbled into anxious and oblivious at thirteen. 

Your heart ached at the nostalgia of it, and you can't bear to cast your gaze to your friends who had begun to sniffle, like they were holding back tears, the grandfather clock your geography teacher insisted on keeping ticked on as it always did, and whilst you had spent years burning holes through the glass, willing for it to go faster, your one dying wish is for the seconds to tick by in minutes. 

You weren’t ready, it ran straight through you, all this time leading up, from when you had first learnt your desire to pursue architecture till the moment you finished that last sentence on your final exams, you felt you would be filled with joy at the sound of your true departure into adulthood and college.

And yet, you felt like a kid again, learning how to ride a bicycle without the training wheels, trying to reach the fifth monkey bar, falling headfirst into the dirt ground of the field when you had thought you were more flexible then you truly were. 

You didn’t want to leave, you didn't want to leave this place, this place of memories and friends and people you knew and loved. And it was as if God was listening, cause the resounding echo of the school bell rang through the halls and it was as if he said ‘fuck you anyway’.

You gather the haphazard books and papers laying across your desk, you had purposefully delayed packing in order to waste as much time in this memory as possible, before adulthood would take it away and make it something of the past. You hear your friends calling your name, and you tell them to go ahead as you make your way to your teachers desk.

“Hey Mr Jefferson” You say to your teacher has begun to bid goodbye to the leaving students

Your teacher looks up at you with a tight smile, sadness washes over the wrinkles and creases of her features, her auburn hair falling in short waves at her shoulder and her olive lipstick wearing down. You have to swallow to stop the tears from dropping. Your Geography teacher, whilst not teaching Art, had been the catapult to realizing your fascination with Architecture and design. She had even helped tell your parents, who had been set on the idea of you going into Law or Medicine or anything other than creative arts. 

“You’ll do amazing, I believe it because I see how hard you try. Don’t look back at this place, leave with the door wide open and come back only when you want to design me a house” Your Teacher replies with a grin, and before you can reply shes shuffling through her drawers, before pulling out a sketchbook that has been aged and stained with use over the years.

“What’s this?” You ask, twisting the book in your hand, it was good quality, despite being old, it felt like an heirloom.

“It’s one of my sketchbooks I had during college, maybe some of my late night sketches fuelled by coffee and donuts might inspire you”

“I couldn't possible-”

“Yes you could, hell whatever you create will probably be 10 x greater than whatever is in there” Your teacher cuts you off with a chuckle, and you hug the notebook tight against your chest before hugging her goodbye.

You step into the familiar walls of your high school hallways, crowds of seniors running to find their friends and hug them for possibly the last time, test papers and report cards left trampled on the ground, it's chaos, but you love it and the sight almost pulls tears down your waterline.

You walk towards your locker, before you recognize the familiar wisps of blond curls catch your eyesight. Carmen.  You considered him one of your closest friends, bonding together over a love of game** and your equal hatred of your Period 4 Calculus teacher.

Carmen didn't have much when I came to be friends, and after he met you, it didn't really get to him anymore, he had you now, and you were more than enough. Over the years you had gotten close to every part of Carmen's life, Mickey, Richie, Sugar, they were all people you regarded as family.

But there was something unsaid between the both of you, it was like there was something beyond friendship, but the embers had just gathered and had left unignited.

He’s gathering his things from his locker, shoving them into a bag in that messy way he is, and he slams the locker with a jolt.

You're standing stationary in the middle of the hallway, classmates and other seniors running by you in confusion, your friends calling your name annoyed, but it's all muffled, it all doesn't matter because it's Carm and god your heart aches so bad. 

You see Carmen and he sees you, stopping a few meters away from you, and a moment of recognition washes over him as he gazes with those cerulean blues. There's grief in the way you look at each other, tears streaming down your cheek as you try to smile at him, realising this might be the last time you see him, forever, off to an Art school in New York, leaving him behind. You feel like your heart is being ripped from your chest and he shakes his head, his eyebrows scrunching up as he steps closer so that he’s only a whisper from you.

He brings his hand up, brushing a strand and tucking in behind your ear, eyes strained as he wipes your tears away painfully. He moves closer, so that his breath is against your neck and whispers

“Thought you told me you'd punch me in the stomach if I cried on the last day” Carmen whispers into your eyes with a grin that breaks through the tears that cause his eyes to swirl in colour's of waves.

His words make you laugh and cry at the same time, and you shake your head as you reach for his arm, and playfully hit your stomach with it. Carmen rests it against your waist, looking up to you in a pained expression, his eyes shift to the notebook grasped tight in your hands

“New sketchbook? That..doesn't look new” Carmen says, turning his head to examine the old book more closely.

“One of Mrs Jefferson’s, her sketches are..their fucking amazing” You sigh, running your hand across the folded spine of the sketch book.

“Thought teachers weren't meant to have favourites” Carmen shoots out, a playful grin on his lips

“Hmm, well they aren't supposed to tell you exactly” You banter with a giggle, you flick through the pages of the book, half drawn sketches in grey lead and ballpoint, Carmen tracing his fingers gently across the ingrained lines and shades.

“God you're something, you know that?” Carmen says, all of a sudden, and when you look up you realise he’s been staring at you the entire time.

“Bear..” You breathe out.

“I don't know how I'm going to-, I, it's all so much” You exhale, waving your arms around this place that has held so many memories, so much of your past kept in the creaks and cracks of plastered walls and lockers

“You're the only person in this goddamn place that's going to make something out of themselves, I bet my entire life on it Bug. You're going to do amazing, in that big city, you’re going to show em’' Carmen replies, grasping you against his touch tight. You look up at him, trying to memorise every dip and curve of his features, the curl of his hair that shone honey in the sun, those eyes that were always searching, and the small cut on his forehead where he fell off his skateboard that one summer evening.

“Don’t say goodbye”

“Okay” Your tongue feels like deadweight in your mouth. what if i never see you again?

“You say goodbye and it's the end. Just..don’t” I can't breathe carmy.

You can’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him, pressing your nose into his shirt to smell the scent of patchouli and cigarettes he always carried, you want to tell him to come with you, to pack an overnight bag and run with you forever, but the words don’t taste right when you try to speak and you see yourself letting him go, and turning away with a shaky step.

Turn back Carmen whispers, so softly that only the gods above and the wind around him can hear it

You feel an urge to turn back, it speaks to you from within, and before you can stop yourself, your neck cranes, turning your body to get one last look at your golden boy before time would take him forever. 

Time would age him into a memory forever.

Carmen feels this tension leave his shoulders at the same time his heart shatters, you will find each other again, even if it was in another universe, where you're sitting across from each other at the kitchen table, going over groceries together with the afternoon light casting its glow across you. He will find you, he will find you and he won’t let go this time. 

*

“Honestly Ma, it’s fine, I’ll get the movers to come in a little early”. You groan into the phone pressed to your ear, papers and unresolved bills are left scattered across your dining room table and you have this itch that's begun to turn chronic somewhere you can’t reach.

You take a moment to look around your apartment, now barren of furniture, and filled instead with boxes of badly organised stuff you've accumulated over the years. This place, albeit small, had been your home ever since you stepped out of the yellow cabbed taxi on your first day in New York, and whilst it wasn't pretty, you felt a pang of guilt leaving it all behind. These walls had seen you through it all, the late night study cram’s, the breakdowns, the accomplishments, the one night stands. You'd miss her, but maybe you were just a nostalgic person.

You’ve made a life in New York, but you felt misplaced, like pieces of yourselves were scattered across the states. Chicago kept a part of you, and it was only when you had gotten the chance to move back home, did it click. You missed your city. And you had cut your lease and emptied out the last of your savings without a second thought.

Now all that was left was tying up loose ends and making the trip down. It was funny, in a way. You had run to New York to pursue architecture, and it brought you back to the very same place you had left, there was a certain trepidation when you thought of Chicago, it held so much of your past, in its city streets and evergreen trees, and you don’t know if you were quite ready to face those memories again.

*

It still smelled the same. You itch your nose, sniffling against the blooming scent of cocoa and caramel from the Chicago roads, all this time, and all that you can tell is how it still smelt like maple leaves and chocolate. It was comforting, and it felt like the warm embrace of a childhood friend that had stayed sitting on the corner of your suburban street corner all this time.

“Thank you Mae, really, I got the call last minute in New York to come back here and if it weren't for you, I’d be moving back into my old bedroom at my parents” You reply, gratitude filling every word. It was true, your friend had swooped in the second you called, fixing you up with a lease and an apartment with her realtor links. She came in a clutch, and she had made you promise to never leave her again in exchange.

“Oh shush doll, of course. This is probably payment for all the times I’ve crashed at yours anyway” Mae winks, the bracelets on her wrist clinking against each other. She didn't look like a typical realtor, more like a bohemian solo-traveller with her filly skirts and auburn red hair.

“I’m not going to let a degree transform my entire wardrobe, my clothes are antiques, their heirlooms, they tell a story” 

She had told you once, one late night on the rooftop of your New York apartment, sipping cheap wine and passing a blunt between you both. You wish you had known yourself as much as she did then.

She had visited you a couple times in New York, coming up for work and spending the time at yours instead of spending thousands on an Airbnb, but it had been a while since you've seen her, and all of a sudden you remember how much you missed her laugh.

“I’ve got some time to spend before it’s all hand on deck” You reply, placing the last of your boxes onto the empty wooden floor of the living room.

“Oh yeah? Can’t believe you’re gonna design a whole building on Michigan Av’, your a fucking inspiration Bug” Mae sighs in adoration, and you giggle, the feeling of embarrassment filling you at the mention of your reason back home.

You never got used to the praise and adoration you received over the years, despite your many accolades and awards, you still felt like that hopelessly broke architect student giving up lunch to pay rent. You didn’t remember when things started to change. When did things start to change?

“You know, if you’ve got time, you should check out the Farmers Market near River North” Mae replies, whilst flicking through her phone

“The one on Division Street?” You reply, you had a faint memory of the long strip of stalls filled with fresh produce, food and the rest of the little trinkets that were sold since you were born on the pleated table cloth of sheltered booths.

“That’s the one, this guy named Samson? Makes the best fucking bearclaw in the entire United States. Tell him you're a friend of mine and he'll hook you up…you know since you can't afford it” Mae replies playfully, and you roll your eyes with a laugh.

“Yeah yeah, you hook up with him or something?” You poke back, Mae had the tendency to know everyone in Chicago, from the mailman to the old woman you’d see feeding the bids on a park bench.

“Yeah, actually I did. Not like you could relate, how long has it been, hm?” Mae replies, stepping forward to whisper down at your pants.

“I’m so sorry she hasn't been taking care of you. What are you, mummify her?” Mae looks up from her crouched position with a raised eyebrow.

“Ugh, you know I've been too busy to think about that. She’s gonna have to be patient” You reply, you don’t want to think about how long it has actually been, since you've had any type of release. But the tension has begun to weigh on your shoulders as time went on and you fear it might become something you can’t ignore.

You begin to move some boxes into your bedroom, thanks to your planning your large furniture such as your bed and coach, had been moved into the apartment before the rest of the things had got here, so at least you wouldn't be sleeping on a mattress on the floor. Changing into a pair of dark jeans and a short sleeve top, you loop an embroidered handbag onto your shoulder.

“So, you coming?” You call to Mae, who’s begun to fill your fridge with the groceries she's swung by with.

“Sure would Bug, but got a call to come in. I’ll come by again later this evening though?” Mae replies, with a grunt as she lifts the 2 litre bottle of milk onto one of the drive shelves.

“Yes please, I’m dying for a glass of wine”

“And a blunt” Mae replies, snickering at the way you roll your eyes at her.

Mae offers to drop you off, but you wave her off, telling her you wanted to see a little more of your hometown. You needed some fresh air that wasn't the coffee and smoke scent of the New York streets.

The walk to the Farmers market was a short one, but you felt like you were wading through a current. By the way the memories of your past began to resurface as you passed the streets and shops. Every corner holds a part of you, and you have to rush by your old school to stop the pang of pain that surprises you. You weren't an emotional person, but god it was almost as if you were hanging by a thread the second you touched down on Chicago. 

What was causing this? You felt like you were holding your breath as you stepped through the fallen autumn leaves marking the sidewalk, the gentle sun on your back, what were you waiting for?

You tear yourself from your thoughts momentarily when you catch the looming buildings that had been built on ions ago, the infrastructure of Chicago still enamoured you, in a way that couldn't be beaten by even New York’s impossible skyscrapers.

There was a charm to it, each of the buildings felt like you were stepping into a different decade, they had been the stepping stones to a lot of the infrastructure and architecture that spread into other cities. You felt like you were at the start of it all every time your eyes trailed across the facade and arcades of the century old stone buildings.

Without realising, you had finally made it to the Farmers Market, the constant stream of people coming in and out with boxes of produce or hauling wooden antiques with very audible grunts. You can’t stop the smile stretching your face as you step through the embroidered banner at the front of the street.

Despite the many different stalls and food around you, you don't feel overstimulated. This was your home, you felt like you belonged, like a name scratched into wet cement, remaining ingrained for years no matter the seasons that came. 

You go over the haphazard list of things you wanted to look for in your mind, but you're caught off guard by a stall that seemed to be huddled by patrons. You step towards it, and as people move aside you see the blooming flowers and carefully wrapped banquets in woven wooden baskets to the side of the stall. A short woman with light brown curls is standing at the front, taking down orders with a grin, whilst a rather tall man behind her makes quick work to wrap delicate orders into soft brown parchment paper tied with string. 

And all of a sudden the need to buy pink tulips becomes your first priority. The woman at the front looks familiar, but you can't quite put your finger on where you've seen her, but as you walk up to the front her face morphs into familiar as she looks up at you in surprise.

“As I live and breathe” She says your name with a screech and it's her voice that pulls her name to your mouth. Adeline, a close friend from senior year who’d taught you how to crochet and pick a lock.

“Bug? How've you been? What brings you back to town?” Ade replies after telling the man behind her your order without you even saying a thing. 

“Tulips, pink ones right?” Ade grins, and you have to let out a chuckle at how you haven't changed even a little.

“Got invited to join in designing a new building on Michigan Avenue, so I'll be back for a while-”

“Michigan Avenue? Holy shit Bug! You’re making moves, knew you always were special” Adeline replies with a gushing smile and you rush to reply with the same adoration

“Are you kidding, look at this line” You motion to the increasing line of people forming at Adeline's stall.

“People love their flowers” Adeline replies with a shrug before you shake your head vehemently

“No, they love your flowers, and for good reason, look at these” You gush, pressing your face into the bundle of tulips that had been handed to you.

“They only look that good because Henry's so good at wrapping them” Adeline replies with a laugh, her eyes flicking to the brown haired man dressed in corduroy behind her. A look passes between them that tells you there was more than love between them.

“Henry huh?” You reply with a grin, and the man is quick to introduce himself, and you don’t ignore the cold press of an encrusted band on his ring finger as he shakes your hand with a soft smile.

And it's as if Adeline reads your mind and she slips her left hand in yours, looking up at you with a teary grin.

“Yes, yes I know, I should've called, and I’m so sorry-”

You press yourself against her, leaning over the stall to wrap your arms around her. You whisper words of congratulation, shutting down any words that hinted at you being mad at her.

It wasn't her fault, it should be you she's mad at, you hadn’t really made that much of an effort to keep in contact with your friends back at home, and the reality of it weighed on you heavy now, you had missed so many milestones of your loved ones, all to chase your own dreams in New York.

You felt like you were constantly playing catch up, and you couldn't lie when a strange feeling crept up at the thought of your friends moving on with life. You were so incredibly happy for Adeline, and you were even more elated when she had told you of the Wedding in April that you had to come to. 

But that didn't stop that same strange feeling of being behind everyone else, you had spent so long climbing the ladder to wear what you wear now, relationships and love weren't even a thought, you filled your nights with studying and drawing and the occasional fling, but nothing more. And now doubts had begun to creep in, had you missed out? 

Watching everyone around you get married and have kids whilst you were still drawing buildings in that same sketchbook your teacher had given you 8 years ago. You’re not looking as you walk past the many stalls of the Farmers market, and it is your thoughts again that causes you to accidentally stumble into the hard muscle of a man back. You feel yourself falling, before arm's reach out, grabbing you quickly to stop you from ending flat on your face. 

You breath out a sigh of relief, shaking a head at your clumsiness

“God, ‘m so sorry, I’ve just been in my head, I wasn’t looking where i was going-”

“Holy fuck” Your quick to spit an apologetic thanks, you haven't even looked up to see who you've dubbed into, and when the sound of surprise meets your ease you look up, only to be remain stone faced with your mouth left open.

“Richie?” You say, the shock of it is still in the air. You hadn't expected to see him in Chicago, or maybe you did and it was sooner than you thought.

“When did you get back? Holy shit, thought we wouldn't see you again” Richie replies with a smile

“Yeah uh, came down for some work for a little while. How, uh How are things” You reply with a squeak, you can’t bear to say what you're thinking and Richie nods, a look of acknowledgement in his face. Mickey’s death had shaken you, it had changed you in its own way, and you still grief him, it still hurts when Richie's face kinda falls and melts at the reminder of his best friend's death.

“After, uh, after Mickey, he had left the restaurant, you know, the Beef?” You nod in agreement, the hazy memory of the sandwich shop on the corner of Chicago's, busiest streets, you stomach rumbles at the thought of one of those sandwiches you'd down in less than a minute during your high school years.

“Yeah well, get this, he left it to Carmen. And honestly, I was hesitant at first, real hesitant, I love him, but god, he's a self centred ass coming in like he knew everything, spewing the bullshit CDC shit he learnt up in the big apple? He changed things, and you know how I feel about change, but he made it better, I can;t lie, and you better not tell him this, but the Beef actually..” Richie’s familiar rambles are muffled to your ears, the only thing you can hear is Carmen.

Everything zones out as you scrunch your eyebrows, wincing almost, at the pain and it shocks you, it shocks you how the very name of him still brings back those memories. You still hurt the same way you did the day you left him.

You must have looked out of it, as Richie shakes your shoulder, anchoring you back to the present, and you have to swallow back the bite of pain that bleeds through your chest.

“Did you hear what I said? The Beef’s holding a little family dinner tomorrow, shutting down the shop early, inviting only friends and family, it’ll be like a little reunion for you! You have to come” Richie replies, and you nod trying to seem present.

Carmen took over the Beef? He was in New York? What?

Your mind is scattered with the uproar of questions you have, the thought of Carmen, the memory of him is like a fresh wound. It un tethered and opens up a thread of thoughts and emotions you had thought you bottled up and threw deep into the ocean.

“You, you still talk to him right? Ya’ll were pretty close growing up, like fucking thieves attached to the hip if i can remember” Richie chuckles, fondly remembering the two of you.

You cough back, smiling up at him as you trying to reply coherently

“Yeah, uh sometimes you know” You lie

No. You haven't spoken to him since you left, and it feels like your tongue falls dead when you try to say his name again. You hadn't called and he hadn't picked up. Carmen told you not to say goodbye, but the truth was it had been the end of you even before you had both realised. 

You had spent years pretending like Carmen not calling you, not making an effort to see you after everything didn’t burn, but the reality of it had marked you in a way that felt eternal.

“So you're coming, yeah? You and Carmen can finally catch up” Richie replies with a smile, and look of something passes through his eyes before it leaves, and you have to smile back with a nod, like you and Carmen were still close, like you don't feel that he might turn you away or scream at you the second he saw you, like you weren't both irrevocably in love with each other.

Bear. You missed him, you are shocked by how much you do, you thought bottling up your memories and emotions about him and stuffing them so far back into your mind you forgot would actually change anything. There had always been this lingering thought, at the recesses of your mind, the last thing you imagined before you fell asleep, the feeling that filled you the second you came back to Chicago, it was all Carmen, it was all your golden boy.

And now you would have to see him, in less than a day you would  be in the same room as Carmen Berzatto, you don't want to say it, you don't want to speak it into acknowledgement but deep down, you wanted to see him again. 

Beyond it all, you both were bonded in friendship, sharing something you didn't even have with Adeline or Mae, and you had felt like a part of yourself was missing each day that went passed without hearing from him. Had he forgotten you? Had it been as hard for him to go on with life? He had been in New York for christ sake, he didn't even think to visit you, that thought alone made you want to run back home and never come out.

You couldn't bare the possibility of exposing yourself to such heartache, to the chance of being rejected by the very person who you forever longed for. You were always searching for him, looking through crowds to see the familiar curl of his brown hair, or the scent he carried, ears always leaning in, trying to see if it would catch his syrupy baritone voice.

The two of you were forever connected, like the roots of trees spanning miles under the Earth. The kind of companionship that transcended time and space, and god did you want to feel the sharp edge of his jaw between your hands.

You couldn't stop it now, Richie had opened something you kept locked and sunk for a reason, and now it felt like you would break if you didn't see Carmen. Even if it would break you, even if it was the one thing in this world that would destroy you, 

You had to see your golden boy.

[talesofesther]

yours only

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: You make Wednesday feel something she never felt before; jealousy. And maybe a bit of something else too.

Requested by anon

A/N: First time writing for her, who stole my heart pretty quickly. I hope this is okay, hope I could somehow capture her personality that's definitely not an easy one. Let me know what you think. Requests for her are open. <3

Masterlist

You felt a little petty, just a little, as you walked amongst the woods to meet Xavier in his secret spot, the one where he stored most of his paintings.

But he's been a good friend of yours ever since before Wednesday came to Nevermore, and if she can spend however long she wants in that coffee shop, why can't you do the same?

You weren't expecting to fall for her, in reality, you couldn't stand her in the beginning. But one doesn't choose one's feelings, and when underneath all that secrecy and nonchalant attitude she does things like; take an extra tray of breakfast for you when you wake up a little late, or help you in class when you forget the particularities of a flower, or even send Thing to your room in the dead of night with a written note for you to meet her the next day for an outing, which was code for sneaking out to investigate, but the gesture is there.

It was safe to say you were a goner. As much as it might be — her words, not yours — a terrible decision.

But lately, Wednesday has been distant. And you were jealous, even if you didn't have the right to be. So over the past week, you've been spending a good amount of time with Xavier. He's been helping you with your drawing skills, the piece you're working on now is almost done, and you're quite proud of it.

The entirety of your day is spent in Xavier's shed, laughing and painting and getting your head off of things. You think you see a dark silhouette spying on you from outside, but when you go looking, it's gone.

It's already late at night when you do go back to your dorm, your roommate is sneaking into her boyfriend's room tonight, so it's just you. You're looking forward to the quiet night.

You open the door to your room with a yawn escaping your lips. Your backpack is thrown somewhere to the side and you don't care much for where it lands, you stretch your muscles, a little sore for being in the same position most of the day. Only then do you take a glance over your room, and in the right corner, sitting by the end of your bed on the floor and mostly covered by the darkness, is Wednesday.

You almost jump out of your skin. With the way your heart is beating under your hand, you swear your soul did leave your body for a second; "holy shit Wednesday, a little warning next time."

Wednesday gets up, taking a single step towards you before deciding against it, her eyes never leave you. "You're distracted today, why?"

"Hello to you too," you grumble, taking off your jacket, "and, how did you even get in here, the door was locked."

There's a ghost of a smirk on her burgundy-painted lips, and it gets you wondering if they'd leave a print on you if you stole a kiss. "You can't expect a simple lock to stop me," Wednesday tells you.

You chuckle, knowing damn well there were few things out there that held any power over her. You just don't know that you happen to be one of them. "no, of course not."

A beat passes where you just look at each other, both waiting on something, wondering whether the other person’s feeling the same way. The air feels heavy around you, almost electrical.

You clear your throat and walk past Wednesday and to your wardrobe to pick up your pajamas, figuring a shower would do you good.

Wednesday has a staring contest with the back of your head as you rummage for clothes, her jaw is set tightly in place and she hates the feeling that's in her stomach right now. "You didn't answer my question," she says, with more bite than usual.

You huff, running a hand through your hair as you turn to her again. You walk up closer, your personal space mingling with hers.

She sucks in a sharp breath when you stop before her, her gaze darting to your lips before settling back on your eyes. It's so fast that you don't notice it.

"What question?" You ask.

Wednesday gulps, twisting her words into what she really wanted to know; "why are you spending so much time with Xavier?" She deadpans, as if she couldn't care less.

Your lips tilt up on the sides, because you know better, but you won't indulge her just yet. "Why are you spending so much time with Tyler?"

"This is childish."

"Indeed."

"His father is the sheriff, and I need information on the attacks," Wednesday raises her brow, "my relationship with him is merely convenient."

You bite the inside of your cheek, nodding softly, "well, Xavier has been my friend for years already, so…" You shrug and walk around her, heading to the bathroom.

"It doesn't look like it."

"Like what?" You turn and ask impatiently, waiting for her to do the same and look at you again.

Wednesday does so slowly, staring at you through her lashes. "Like you two don't want to be more than friends."

There's something complicated about her tone that you can't quite put your finger in. Her eyebrows are a little crooked, her eyes glinting just a little brighter under the moonlight and her hands painfully closed into fists. You realize she's upset.

You soften. For her, this might just be the equivalent of a crying plea. You walk over to where your backpack lays forgotten on the floor and carefully pull out your sketchbook. The cover is black and a little worn as you run your fingers over it, taking a steadying breath.

You sit down on your bed with it and pat the space beside you.

Wednesday regards you with caution, she's lost and not in control, two things she absolutely hates; however, she doesn't feel as uncomfortable when it's with you. She takes calculated steps to your bed and gently sits down beside you, closer than she thinks she should have, but it's too late to back down now.

"Xavier has been giving me a hand with a few of my drawings," you explain, opening your sketchbook on the last page you used, "and uh- this is the one I'm working on."

Wednesday takes the sketchbook from you, holding it tenderly between her fingers as if it could fall apart. Her heart beats erratically against her ribs, for a moment she thinks she can hear it. The feeling is foreign to her.

The drawing is a perfect picture of her, undoubtedly by your eyes, as she sits beside you in class, focused on her notes. It's a sight you're all too familiar with, one that you love. The lines are a little rough still, all black charcoal and dark ink; tracing the lines of her jaw and hair to perfection. It's pretty, probably not a word Wednesday usually would use to describe herself, but it's true now.

"I couldn't see Xavier as more than a friend," you tell her quietly, so as to not break the bubble of intimacy around you, "I'm afraid that spot is already taken."

Wednesday's gaze snaps up to you, and you think that's the most emotion you've ever seen her let on. You wish you could bottle this moment up like fireflies in a glass jar.

You reach out a hand, and Wednesday holds her breath before you even touch her, you do too. Her hair, deep black and so incredibly soft, meets the pad of your fingertips as you push it behind her ear. The motion is all delicacy and shyness, just a breath over the fragile line between you and her.

Wednesday's lashes kiss her cheeks when her eyes almost drop closed for a millisecond before she takes back control. She's stiff, hands now with a bruising grip on the sketchbook, "what are you doing?"

You inch closer, and when she doesn't pull away, you gently cup her cheek; her skin is a little cold under your touch. "What do you think I'm doing?"

For the first time in her life, her words get caught up in her throat before she forces them out; "Something you'll regret."

Smiling against your own volition, you whisper; "do you really believe that?"

Wednesday wonders if you're aware that you're killing her slowly; agonizingly, because you're so kind with her demise. She's the one who closes the gap between you, when you're just a hairs width away from her, one hand letting go of your sketchbook in order to bunch up your shirt in her fist and pull you to her.

It's everything you're not expecting, her eagerness, urgency even. She's kissing you like she's trying to memorize you, not sure if you're real or not. It's still soft though, still uncertain, still her.

When she parts, it's slowly, her lips almost refusing to let yours go. The outlines of your mouth are faintly smudged with her lipstick, testimonies of her affection, of how lucky you are to have it.

The sight pulls a smile from Wednesday, and consequently from you as well once you see it. Because albeit small, her smile is real, and you think you already have your next project for the sketchbook.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242

[kteezy997]

heyy, can u do one where timmy breaks up with the reader and she´s heartbroken, after a few months she realizes shes pregnant , but doesnt tell him anything (because shes still hurt and thinks he doesnt want her and the child anyhow) and one day they bumb into eachother randomly and he sees his nearly identical 3 yr old son and confronts her? you choose the endning mwuahhhh. btw i love ur writing

Daddy's Boy- Part One//t.c.

warnings: breakup, unexpected pregnancy, angst, fluff, cursing, i think that's it? This is a long one, grab a snack?

You were both young and dumb, and Timmy’s career was growing steadily at the time. He was taking on more and more movies, more commitments, and he straight up told you that he didn’t have time to be in a relationship anymore. He told he’d love you as long as breathed, and maybe one day you’ll find each other again, and you could be together.

You were heartbroken. You didn’t want to speak to him after the breakup, though he tried. It was too painful to even speak to him knowing that you couldn’t have all of him. You knew that cutting off contact cold turkey would be the best for you in the long run.

Just as your healing began, you missed your period a couple of months after the breakup with Timmy. You hadn't missed a period randomly before, so you decided to take a pregnancy test. You hoped that somehow it was only a fluke, and you weren't carrying a Chalamet baby.

Your hopes went out the window when two lines appeared on the tiny screen of the test. You were pregnant.

........

You gave birth to a perfectly healthy and beautiful baby boy. You named him Theodore, with a French flair as a secret nod to his biological father. Though you didn't ever reach out to Timmy, you hoped that the French name would be like a little clue as to who the boy was, if he were to ever come across him.

You were blessed with the support of your family who helped you in any way that you needed as a single working mom. They didn't have any harsh feelings toward Timmy, as he had no say in what the situation was. Your family stuck by you and your decisions.

You worked full-time and took care of Theo when you weren't on the clock. Any free time you had was spent with family and friends. You didn't have the time nor the energy to push yourself back out into the dating world. Besides, you knew that you had already experienced the love of a lifetime with Timmy. No one and nothing could compare to how you felt with him, and you were so in love with the son he gave you.

Theo was like his father in so many ways. He had Timmy's quirks and bubbly, goofy personality. He brought so much laughter and silliness to your life. Like his father, he was never boring. Theo was also sweet, thoughtful, and cuddly, even as a three-year-old.

As he got older, he started to realize that the other kids at his daycare had daddies that would pick them up at the end of the day. He mentioned to you that he felt sad about not having a daddy like the other children.

You told your sweet son that he did have a father, but he just couldn't be with him as he had to leave for his job. "But your daddy is a good man, and he loves you. Don't ever think that you aren't loved, Theo."

"Okay Mommy." your little one said with a shrug.

"Would you want to see some pictures of your daddy?"

Theo's eyes lit up and smiled widely, nodding immediately.

....three years later....

Holy shit. It was him. Timothee. You had taken your son out for a pastry while you got an afternoon iced coffee and you see your ex-boyfriend across the room, who also happens to be the father of said son but has no idea his son even exists because you haven't spoken in three years. What a day.

Your thoughts and heart were racing as you thought of the different ways that this could play out. You could grab Theo, and leave immediately, so as to no give Timmy a chance to even see the two of you. But that would be the shitty thing to do. To be honest, you have felt shitty for three years keeping Timmy's child away from him. You couldn't leave. You wondered if it was fate bringing Theo's father into his life, after all these years.

You decided to stay. You wiped some chocolate off of Theo's face, his sweet little face that was a carbon copy of Timmy. Your son had his father's eyes, nose, hair, body type, everything was all Timmy. Your own genes didn't even try when it came to making this child.

When you looked up and over Timmy's direction again, he caught your gaze. Your former lover's eyes widened at you, as he realized that the two of you were in the same vicinity.

"Mom, I know him! From the pitchers! That's my daddy!" your toddler's voice rang through your ears, and before you knew it, he got down from his chair, and started to run across the coffee shop.

"Theo!" you called after him, getting up immediately to catch him, but he was quick on his little legs. "You cannot run off by yourself!" Your heart was racing, you had never lost control of your little boy like this before, and you were worried he'd get hurt or maybe even a stranger might snatch him.

"Whoa little guy!" you knew that voice better than any other. Timmy had picked up Theo, holding him as if he'd held the boy every day of his life.

You looked on as Timmy and Theo looked at one another, matching dark curls, pale skin, and green eyes. Timmy smiled warmly as your son blushed and hid his face into Timmy's shoulder, acting shy suddenly.

"Hi, y/n." Timmy said, looking at you. "You've got a cute kid."

You took a deep breath, this moment up until now only existed in your dreams, "Thank you."

Timmy sighed, a melancholy look took over his face. You could tell his mind was racing. He came to know the truth, you could see it on his face. He tightened his grip on Theo, holding him more snuggly. "He's mine." It wasn't a question, it was a fact he had realized.

You looked down, feeling so ashamed at yourself. "Yes, he is."

He glared at you. There was nothing behind his eyes as he shook his head. But his expression changed instantly as he turned his attention back to his son. "What's your name, little man?"

"Theodore." the little one grinned, "But Mommy calls me Theo."

You watched as Theo softened like putty in Timmy's arms, he even put his hand on his dad's shoulder.

"I seen pitchers of you. Mommy showed me. I know you my daddy." The declaration in the boy's voice was noticeable.

Timmy chuckled lightly, "She did? Well, I'm very glad to finally meet you, Theo."

You could see your ex-boyfriend's eyes begin to well up, so you said, "Timmy, let's go to my place, okay?"

"Yeah! I want my daddy to come and play with me!" Theo cheered, super excitedly.

Timmy wiped his tears away quickly, "Of course, I'd love to."

.........

The whole way home, Theo was telling Timmy all about his favorite toys in his room. Timmy was fully engaged with what the boy was saying, understanding him perfectly as he spoke. They were instantly like two peas in a pod. It was remarkable. It did, however, add to the stinging pain of guilt you felt about keeping the two of them apart.

Upon entering the house, Theo dragged Timmy by the hand to go show him his room. “Whoa, whoa, slow down buddy.” Timmy said to the three-year-old as he laughed at how excited the boy was.

You couldn’t help but smile at how they got along. You decided to leave them be, to let them play and bond. You did some of your general chores around your home and tidied up the space, then sat down on the couch to watch some mindless tv.

Before you knew it, it was Theo’s bedtime. You had the difficult task of breaking up his first play time with his father.

You opened the door of your son’s room to see toy cars and trucks scattered about, intermixed with some little action figures.

Timmy and Theo were not disturbed by your entry. They were in their own world; Timmy was on his knees, pretending to block Theo as he tried to shoot a ball into his Little Tikes basketball hoop. It was so sweet to see them play and laugh together.

You hated to say anything at all, but little boys needed sleep. "Sorry bubs, but it's bedtime."

"Aw, do I have to go to bed?" Theo whined dropping his miniature basketball.

"Yes, you do." you said firmly to your son. You went over to his dresser to collect some pajamas out of a drawer. "Time for jammies."

"Okay." Theo grumbled, moping on his way to you.

"Don't pout, Theo, you need to do as your mother says." Timmy said with stern, but still light tone as to not hurt Theo's feelings.

Your heart fluttered at Timmy's first attempt at co-parenting with you.

"Can Daddy tuck me in?" he asked as you pulled his shirt over his head.

You looked over at Timmy, who nodded at you in turn. "Yes." you said, finishing getting Theo into his pajamas.

"Alright, little man, time to go to sleep." Timmy said as he helped Theo get into his twin bed, underneath his monster truck themed bedding.

Theo laid down and Timmy covered his tiny body with his blankets, and the boy said, "Can you make sure there are no monsters in the closet?"

Timmy smiled, happy to give his son some comfort, "Sure, buddy." He tussled the little boy's hair, then got up to look into the closet across the room. "No monsters in there. Just a regular ol' closet."

You smiled with tiny giggle as you watched the interaction.

Timmy then crouched down next to Theo's bed, "Goodnight, Theo. I was so glad to meet you today. I had fun playing too."

"Me too, Daddy. Can you come tomorrow too?" your son responded with a sleepy grin.

"I don't know about tomorrow, but I'll see you soon, I promise."

........

You knew what was to come as you walked out of your son's bedroom with his long-lost daddy behind you.

"Y/n, let's talk."

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @tchalamss @softhecreator @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey @kpopgirlbtssvt @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen

[yamujiburo]

I'm so thankful for you sharing the importance of protecting minors from sexual content. My parents and I didn't have much knowledge back then and I was exposed to this kind of stuff too early. I developed bad habits. I somehow deceived my family into trusting me way too much and, when I saw I had lost control and I asked for help, I saw my family was also hurt and they spent a lot on therapy and my anxiety medication. I have forgiven them for not knowing back them. But I still haven't forgiven myself for getting them through all that stuff. It's important to understand how much we need to protect minors from sexual content. Family members and artists, please pay attention to the content young audience is exposed to.

Of course! I can relate a lot to this. My parents were really good at monitoring what I was doing online for a while but they started trusting me more and I unfortunately started seeing a lot of stuff I shouldn't have but would keep it secret. Gonna talk about my experience a lil bit under the cut just bc I've been reflecting on it a lot recently (tw for grooming)

I gained a following of around 25K on deviantart by the time I was around 15/16. It was in the worst fandom too (mlp). I'd have a lot of much older men talking to me, drawing/writing nsfw of my characters who were underaged (they'd draw nsfw of myself and my sonas as well). It was so normalized for me and I didn't see anything wrong with it at the time.

I'd shipped Spike and Rarity at the time (very much do not anymore) and adult men would use that ship as a basis for trying to talk to me or get in a relationship. "We're just like Sparity! You're young but you're very mature for your age, so it's fine." I remember one guy trying REALLY hard to try and get me to move in with him. I was pretty creeped out then, but like holy shit that's SUPER creepy and I'm fortunate that he didn't keep trying after I gave him a hard "no".

It bled into my real life a bit when I met a 22 y/o man who asked me out when I was just 16 just turning 17. Luckily the relationship was NOT long lasting (I think he realized that I'm a very boring person LMAO) but I think about how I thought that that was a perfectly normal. I'd date go on to date people who were probably too old for me.

Also around when I was 16/17, people started shipping me with another artist in the fandom who was several years older than I was (side note: nothing wrong with an age gap! but it's very not okay when there's "waiting" for someone to be of legal age involved). I did end up dating said artist after I turned 18 and it was fine, I wasn't hurt or anything but I did find weird that we were shipped when I was still a teenager looking back (there was also nsfw drawn of us together before/when we were dating)

I just had such a warped sense of reality for a long because of this shit. I'm glad there's more conversations about this stuff and it's more known that adults should have little to no personal interaction with kids on the internet and vice versa. There's way too many stories of kids getting taken advantage of in fandom spaces. I think I got off fairly lucky all things considered. But bottom line YES kids need to be protected online and their exposure to sexual content/adult spaces should be limited or monitored. It's also really tough though because not all kids have adults in their real life that they can trust or go to to ask questions about sex so they seek solace in adults online and it's just a constant cycle.

I'm honestly unsure of what to do about that and I don't have all the answers but I ultimately just don't want kids online to end up in similar positions I was in when I was younger. I just do my best

[webslingingslasher]

Hello helloooo!!! <3 could i request “your lips are so soft” and “i could spend the whole day doing just this.” prompt?? something a little bit long and maybe suggestiveness or spicy i’m kind of in the mood for romantic but smutty peter p.

eeeeeek, i don't write smut so this is.... new. but i mean, c'mon, this is perfect peter spicy.

just in case, nsfw content.

“Your lips are so soft,” you whisper the words against his mouth, the upper corner raises in a shy, yet confident grin. Peter doesn’t comment, he just brings his hand to the back of your head and pushes you back in. You’ve been dating for four months and you were rapidly approaching new territory tonight. 

Straddling his lap and almost laying down on his chest, you’re all over him and mouth glued to his, following his movements and breaths. You’d spent the night and when you woke up you immediately rolled over for a morning kiss, it turned into a make out. 

Peter’s fingers gently push up your shirt, it’s actually his but you stole it for the night. You can feel he’s hesitant to bring them higher, he’s had them under your shirt before, but you’ve never been without a bra either. You didn’t mind, in fact you’d gladly accept him touching you. 

Peter grips at your hips, he doesn’t want to break it but he needs to breathe, so do you. When he pulls back you kiss over his jawline and down his neck, you’ve never been this feral before. Kissing down the middle of his throat you pull his hand higher up your torso, when he feels the puffy skin of your side boob he stops, he’s not pushing your limits, he’s never touched you bare. 

Finally pulling away to look at him you rested your hand over his and cupped your right boob, Peter’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, “holy shit,” you sat up fully on his lap and nodded down to your chest, “wanna involve the other?” Goosebumps rose up when he dragged his hand up your body, now knowing he has permission he takes his time to tease, his thumb brushes your nipple, if he was braver he’d play with it. 

His hands jiggle them under your shirt, you can’t help but roll your eyes. “You have free rein and you wanna bounce ‘em?” 

If Peter stares hard enough he may be able to develop x-ray vision. “If I never touch them again I’d be so disappointed I didn’t.” 

You’re a little nervous for the next part, but he’s so nice to kiss and if he was that happy touching them, imagine seeing them, shirtless on his lap while he’s shirtless is brand new ground and you couldn’t wait to step foot on the land. 

Peter’s too busy squeezing and running his hands over your breasts, he’s finally gathered enough confidence to pinch and pull at your nipples, if you didn’t want him to then you wouldn’t have invited him. He has to imagine he’s doing something right because you have bated breaths and you're rocking against his pelvis at certain points. He’s shirtless and in thin sweatpants, you’re in a shirt and underwear, it was about to come to a new length, literally. 

You cross your arms at the bottom of your shirt and in one breath you tug it over your head, shaking your hair out from the collar. You look at Peter, he’s in shock. He’s staring at your chest, his cheeks are pink and he runs his tongue over his teeth. He’s stopping himself from taking a bite, you know it. 

“Are you cool with this, pete?” 

For the first time in minutes he looks you in the eyes, “cool, so, so cool.” You giggle then your cheeks turn warm, “if you wanna, like, kiss them you can.” Peter’s eyes shine, “really?” As you nod he leans in, a kitten lick then he encompasses your breast with his mouth, when he swirls his tongue around you can’t help but groan and tie a hand to the back of his head and keep him tethered there.

You grind down on his hips and he stops you when he holds your waist, things are getting harder, you can feel it. You’ve never felt him like this before, you should be more nervous but all you can feel is excitement. 

“You know what you’re doing.” Peter’s voice is gruff, he places a kiss to your sternum. 

“I do,” you hold his hands as you grind down, this time he groans, “so let me.” 

Peter has the perfect sight right now, you’re sitting on top of him, shirtless and grinding down on his dick. And you want to, you initiated. He has no idea what he did to be so lucky, especially this early in the morning. He hasn’t had enough time in the day to woo you, you woke up wanting him. 

New territory, but on the same page. Peter’s hands guide your hips, the tension builds. You can’t help but look down, you’ve never felt or seen it before. Peter pats your thighs, he thinks you’re freaking out, you watch as you grind down, he groans, his pants jump. 

“So that’s what it feels like.” 

Peter laughs loudly, “my dick?” 

You nod, “is it as big as it feels?” 

“I… I think so? I think it’s a what you see is what you get kinda thing.” Peter’s shy, he’s never had anyone comment on his size before. Granted, he’s never had someone see it before. 

Your fingers tickle at his waistband, “I think I should see it, so I know what I’m getting.” 

Peter breathes in deeply through his nose, “you’re dangerous.” 

You place a kiss on his mouth, “I could spend the whole day just doing this.” 

[writeslikeanaria]

a storm is brewing

sebastian sallow × reader (technically ominis gaunt x reader)

summary: you and your boyfriend have your private time interrupted by your mutual friend's private time (more writing practice lol)

word count: 1.5k+

warnings: oral (m receiving), voyeurism, p in v, self pleasure, absolute filth, SMUT

It wasn’t unusual of you to be tangled up in the sheets of your boyfriend, your lover, after a long day of grueling school work. It also wasn’t unusual for your limbs to be tangled up as well, with a mixture of arms and legs blurred together in a haze of lust and want.

You were connected by the lips, you and Sebastian, a fait of passion upon you. Tucked into his side, laid across the messy bed, your skin was flushed with a scarlet blush. A few drops of sweat beaded at your forehead, threatening to drip down the side of your head. Long forgotten, the buttons on your blouse had been tugged open, plush breasts seeping through your chemise, and pressed against the body of your boyfriend.

You moaned, deepening the passionate kiss, letting your mouth drop open ever so slightly. With immense greed, you felt Sebastian’s hand, which had been sitting politely on the small of your back, grip against your flesh, as his tongue dipped into your mouth.

You pulled back against your own will. “Holy shit, it’s getting hot.” You chuckled as you caught your breath, lungs happily sucking in healthy gulps of fresh air.

Sebastian let out a breathy laugh. “Not hot enough, I say. You can’t be that hot if you’re still mostly clothed.”

His cheeky suggestion was not lost on you, as Sebastian’s hands skirted across your shoulders, pulling your blouse off completely, and throwing it under his bed, away from suspecting eyes. Next in pursuit came your pesky chemise, Sebastian’s least favourite garment of clothing. You had spent countless hours listening to him groan on and on about the chemise and how it hid away his girls.

As the chemise was removed from your sticky skin, Sebastian immediately delved into your perky breasts, mouth attached to the budding nipples with vigour. You let out an unexpected moan, throwing your head back against the headboard.

His tongue was delightful, thick, and warm, lips pulling on your nipples until they had been formed into peaks, working back and forth between them, as to now leave either one of them out. After a while, you become tedious with Sebastian’s attention on you, electing to elicit some fun as well.

Your wandering hands fell to his pants, still cladded to his lower body, which you personally weren’t too happy yet. Whining like a baby, you palmed your boyfriend’s member, that strained against the material of his pants, clawing to come out. With a pleading look in your eyes, you fluttered your eyelashes.

“Please let me help you out. I need you.”

You were begging, lowering your body, so your head was nearly hovering directly over his sweet crotch. You watched eagerly as Sebastian’s head flicked to the entrance of his dormitories. Nerves were building through his system, which you could tell by the tension flowing through his thighs. After a moment, he turned back to you, and gave an eager nod. “I need you too.”

Ever so excited, you dived in, peeling off the pants that shielded you from your prize, which you had so rightfully one. Oncs you had gotten Sebastian in just his boxers, you leaned downwards, licking a small stripe over his clothed cock. A shiver ran through his body.

A grin formed on your face. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

With your sinful words, Sebastian let out another groan, his body becoming moldable clay as you finally removed his boxers to reveal the most beautiful tool you’ve ever seen. Thick and curved, it stood waiting for you patiently, leaking droplets of rain onto the vast county of his torso. The clouds were coming in, promising rain.

Wrapping your lips around his tip, you mouthed at the blushed head, breathing hot air onto his sensitive skin, all to make him shiver. With a lick from the base to the top, Sebastian had let out his first high pitched moan of the night, something you were eager to hear again.

Unfortunately, just as you were about to push your head fully down the length, the door to the dormitory swung open with a rusty squeal. Alert, you immediately pulled off of Sebastian, noticing the matching fear in his eyes. His first instinct pulled you close to his chest, pulling you down against the covers, in any attempt of saving your modesty. It wasn’t until he heard the next voice that he realised he didn’t have to be so worried.

“Sebastian? Are you here?” His blind friend called, which allowed your boyfriend to let out a sigh of relief, petting the top of your head in a calming manner.

“Yeah, mate.” Sebastian exhaled, cupping your cheek with his hand. “Just having a lie down. Exhausted.”

Ominis chuckled. Peaking your head out of the four poster bed, you looked over to see Ominis, lost in his own actions, focused on whatever task he was trying to achieve. “Isn’t that right. Today’s been mental.”

Sebastian bit his lip nervously. “Going to bed now?”

You crossed your fingers, praying that Ominis would leave so you could get back to what you were doing, but to no avail. “Just gonna lie down too. Maybe go to sleep.”

You pulled your head back up to look at Sebastian, both of you donning an irritated look. Rolling your eyes, you allowed Sebastian to chuckle slightly, as you looked back out to your unsuspecting friend.

“Goodnight then.” Sebastian said.

“Goodnight.”

You watched as the end of Ominis’ wand, the one that usually glowed red at the tip to help him with his directions, lost its usual red spark, signifying that Ominis was about to cast another spell. What you weren’t expecting was clumsy Ominis to drop the wand, watching it roll away slightly. A sharp breath sucked into your mouth as he sprawled to the ground, in search of his wand.

It didn’t take long. Within seconds, Ominis had found the wand, standing back up again, but something was definitely not right. Listening closely, you could hear Ominis mutter a spell under his breath, but his wand seemed to be pointed in the wrong direction now.

“Silenco.”

Ominis, having lost his sense of direction when he dropped his wand, had accidentally cast the spell towards Sebastian’s bed, instead of his own. You were so close to alerting him of his mistake but when Sebastian flashed you a look, you stayed down.

It wasn’t long until you realised what was going on. Whether Sebastian knew this would happen or not, you couldn’t believe your ears as you began to hear the soft moaning from Ominis’ bed. You flashed Sebastian a look, confirming your suspicions.

Ominis was masturbating.

At first, your mouth hung open in shock as you laid petrified against the bed, unsure of what to do, until an idea sparked in your head.

Pulling up your skirt, you slowly swung your leg across Sebastian’s unsuspecting lap. You didn’t even let him speak before you had him straddled, your urges spurred on by the elegant moans of Ominis. His lusting voice was so posh, but so foreign, that the taboo of this all was rather exhilarating. Down below, you could feel the forecasted storm starting to pour down.

It began with a light drizzle, rocking yourself against Sebastian’s bare cock, copying the rhythm you were sure that Ominis was using. If you listened in carefully, you were certain that you could hear the soft squelching sound of hand against dick from behind Ominis’ curtains.

Grinding against Sebastian, your hand crept up his body, until it found residence against his mouth, preventing any slight noises to slip out. Instead, you felt the arousing vibrations against your palm. By now, it was a moderate shower.

“—Oh! Sweet Merlin…”

The sound of Ominis’ husked voice was enough to move you from sensual grinding into something more. Impatience was becoming an overwhelming virtue, as you raised yourself off of Sebastian’s lap, and back down again, but this time, with his cock standing at attendance. As your sopping heat made contact with Sebastian’s cock, a hum of pleasure escaped your lips.

You worked fast, not wanting to take up too much time, not that it would take you long to finish anyways. Hearing the sounds of your best friend moaning someone turned you on more than you liked to admit. Greedy as ever, you bounced against Sebastian’s cock, needing his impending release.

Sebastian spoke through clenched teeth. “I need to cum.”

You smirked. “Not until he does.”

It was a game of cat and mouse, pull and tug. For what it seemed like forever, you bounced on your boyfriend, slowing down when you could hear your friend’s pace faltering, and speeding back up again when his energy spiked. It wasn’t long until you both agreed that Ominis was coming.

What could only be described as a frenzied climax, Ominis let out one long, continuous moan, lifting off the bed so much that you could hear the mattress creek. You bent down to Sebastian’s ear, whispering seductively. “Finish.”

As if he needed anyone to tell him. Sebastian immediately poured into you, releasing everything he had. Triggering your own release, your vision turned to white, your head a swarm of dark clouds, lightning striking through your body, Ominis’ sounds the thunder.

Lifting off from Sebastian’s lap, you let his release pour one of you, giggling as you rained down on his sticky thighs, neither of you mentioning the blond elephant in the room.

~~

damn wtf ariadne this is filth wtf

[simp4wom3n]

Requited Love

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Reader

Requested: Yes/No ~ request

Summary: Y/N is cast to play Mia Reed in ‘The Fallout’ and her feelings for her costar, Jenna Ortega, start to resemble those of her characters. Love. ~ Word Count: 1887 ~ Warnings: tiny bit of angst if u squintttttt

A/N: Hello everyone!! Firstly I want to say thank you for all the support shown on my first few posts, and I also wanted to give you guys an update. I’m currently travelling overseas with very busy days so my time for writing is limited but I am writing I PROMISE. This one took a little longer than expected but I hope you enjoy it <3

It's your first day working on the set of ‘The Fallout’, your newest film in which you play Mia Reed. You are a little nervous despite having an impressive collection of films under your belt. When it comes to new sets, new environments, and more importantly new people, you were always anxious about how you would fit in. Your nerves certainly weren’t helped when you learned that Jenna Ortega had joined the cast. You are a huge admirer of hers. Since you've seen pretty much everything she's been in and respect her as an actress, the idea of sharing the screen with her was undeniably daunting.

You pull up to the ‘base camp’ of the film, where all the trailers are located, in an attempt to find yours and get a head start settling in. As you get out of the car your Y/E/C eyes scan the area in search of your trailer, your eyes instead landing on a girl. She appears to be about a foot shorter than you and has long, dark hair. She is dressed in baggy pants and a black singlet with headphones around her neck. Your breath hitches in your throat as you realise, “Holy shit… it’s her oh my god ok” you breathe as you hesitantly start walking in her direction, attempting to calm yourself down. ‘Relax Y/N it’s fine you got this just don’t be weird’.

The sound of your approaching footsteps catch her attention as she turns her head in your direction. Her brown eyes meet yours causing your breath to catch in your throat once again. To your surprise, a genuine smile crosses her face as she too starts walking towards you. “Hey, I’m Y/N. I’m your costar it’s really nice to finally meet you.” you start, giving her a little wave, thrilled you somehow managed to not stumble over your words. “It’s amazing to finally meet you too! I’m Jenna, and I have to say I’m a really big fan of your work” she smiles at you as you feel your cheeks start to burn. Your brain can’t even fathom the idea of THE Jenna Ortega knowing who you are, let alone being a big fan.

“Really?!?” “Of course I am I’ve seen almost everything your in.” she giggles at the disbelief painted all over your face. “And here I thought I was going to be the one fangirling. I’ve also seen pretty much all your stuff and you are incredible. Im still in disbelief that I get to work with you.” you rant, the words flying out of your mouth faster than you ever thought possible. “You are so adorable” she giggles, your cheeks at this point on fire. “Trust me the honour is all mine” she concludes.

You spent the remainder of the day talking to Jenna whilst walking around set, meeting all the important people who you will be working with over the next few weeks. To your delight, whilst exploring the set, you discover that Jenna’s trailer is right next to yours. If there was one thing you were sure of in this moment it was that you couldn’t wait to get to know her better.

*time skip*

You jump as you are awoken suddenly by a loud banging on your trailer door. “Sh*t what the hell” you mumble, rubbing at your tired eyes as you sit up. Your eyes glance towards the clock hanging on your wall, the hands reading 9:17. That’s odd your supposed to be at hair and makeup by 9. “Oh sh*t. I’m coming!” you launch off your trailer couch realising you must have fallen asleep whilst memorising your lines, meaning you didn’t set an alarm. You quickly attempt to fix your disheveled hair as you swing your door open, met with the disappointed glance of your makeup artist. “Sorry! I’m so sorry give me five minutes I’ll be right there I swear” you apologise rapidly, chucking on a random hoodie and running into the bathroom to check you don’t look too much like a corpse.

*small time skip*

Jenna jumps slightly as the door to the makeup trailer swings open, revealing a very cute and disheveled Y/N wearing… wait is that her hoodie? “Morning sleepyhead. I like your hoodie I’m surprised it fits you” Jenna chuckles as you look down and realise that you are actually wearing one of her hoodies. “Huh. I didn’t even notice.” “It looks cute on you” she flirts, your cheeks gaining their familiar warmth, one you often feel when you are around her. You drop into your makeup chair letting out a sigh as you allow your slightly irritated artist to get you ready for your scenes.

“You ready for today?” Jenna asks, smirking as she makes eye contact with you in the mirror. “As always. Why wouldn’t I be?” “We are filming the kiss scene today remember”. As soon as the words left her mouth you felt your stomach drop. “Oh. Right. Yeah I totally forgot about that haha” you chuckle nervously. Being completely honest with yourself, you had been harbouring a crush on Jenna for quite a while now, and whilst the idea of kissing her should fill you with excitement, you can’t help but be terrified. “You okay?” she asks sincerely, noticing the slight change in your demeanour. “Yeah! yeah no I’m fine I just had a rough sleep last night. I feel asleep on my couch memorising my lines so it wasn’t the most pleasant.” you ramble, trying to cover up your nerves, your attempt appearing to work.

“I think the way Megan has set the scene up is really smart.” she says whilst glancing towards you. Noticing the slight confusion on your face she elaborates, “I mean the way she has us kiss whilst we are both lying down. It gets rid of the whole height difference issue. Not that I have anything against it, I love it.” “Good to know” you reply, attempting to diffuse the tension by jokingly winking at her causing her to laugh and quickly hide her face with her hands. ‘Is she flustered?’ ‘Is there a chance she likes me back?’ you thought. However, just as quick as the thoughts came to your mind, you shut them down, ‘No Y/N stop. Don’t get your hopes up’. 

*time skip*

“Action!”. You are lying on the floor of Mia’s bedroom as Jenna, or Vada, rolls towards you. You stare deep into her eyes as she can’t stop giggling. Once she finally settles down, her face is only a few inches away from yours. She starts, “What?… ok I know your a woman of very little words… but I know you got some deep shit happening in this nice little head of yours.” she recites her lines perfectly as you giggle on cue. “God… ugh” you sigh. “Anything? Ok. Lets say this. Lets say you die tomorrow, ok, and what if you die sad because you regret not saying what you wanted to say… then what?”.

Those words, although scripted, make your heart sink, because as true as it is, you can’t tell her. You can’t ruin what you have with Jenna over some stupid crush. They say you should always pick roles you relate to, and you hate to agree that you relate to the fear that Mia is feeling right now, absolutely terrified of losing her best friend. You lie there in silence for a few seconds whilst your mind races. “I can’t say it” you whisper, drawing your eyes off of her. “Why?” she immediately responds. You can feel her eyes burning into the side of your face which both comforts and unsettles you.

When you finally pluck up the courage to face her, she looks almost ethereal in the ambient lighting of the room and you regret ever taking your eyes off of her. You aren’t able to seperate your own feelings from your characters, all you feel is love. You notice Jenna glance at your lips, as she is directed to, and the next thing you know she is leaning in. Your heart is racing faster than it ever has before, so much so you are worried she can hear it. When her lips touch yours, you feel warmth blossom in your chest. She pulls away slightly asking “Is this okay?” to which you nod softly. As she connects her lips to mine once more, her lips part slightly allowing my tongue to slip inside. Before I know it she is climbing on top of me, our bodies pressed together as our lips moved passionately against one another’s. Her hands begin exploring your body as your fingers travel through her hair as you breathed her in. It was utter bliss. Until it wasn’t.

“Cut! That was perfect girls well done. The chemistry was amazing, very believable.” “Thanks” you murmur as you seperate yourself from Jenna and get to your feet, avoiding all eye contact with her. “I think we got it guys you can head back to your trailers”. With that you made your way swiftly out of the room, attempting to avoid Jenna’s concerned stare and get to your trailer as quickly as possible. “Y/N! Y/N wait!” Jenna calls from behind you as you hear her rapidly approaching footsteps. She eventually catches up to you, stopping you when she grabs hold of your hand, swinging you around.

“Hey what’s wrong?” she asks, her hand still holding yours with concern written all over her face. You couldn’t help but think about how pretty she looked which didn’t help with your current predicament. “Nothing. I just… I need to be alone right now” you say, turning on your heels attempting to avoid having the conversation you have been dreading. She grabs ahold of your other hand in order to pull you back, not allowing you to avoid her and suffer in silence. “Hey.” she comforts softly “You can talk to me you know. Just tell me what’s wrong we can figure it out together.” “I can’t say it” you quote Mia as a tear rolls down your cheek, the weight of the conversation finally taking its toll on you as the fear of losing your best friend overcomes you.

You witness the moment it clicks in Jenna’s eyes, her gaze immediately softening as she wipes away your stray tear with her thumb. You see her lips twitch into a smile as her hands land on your cheeks, the two of you having a silent conversation with your eyes. Her eyes flicker down to your lips which doesn’t go unnoticed, but before you can comment on it she is guiding your face down to meet hers as her lips brush against yours tentatively. You were taken over by pure desire as you close the remaining distance, leaning into the kiss as you place your hands around her neck. The familiar feeling of her warm lips against yours makes your heart flutter as you begin to comprehend what is happening, she likes you back. Your lips slowly parted as your foreheads remained against each others. “I love you too Y/N” Jenna intimately whispered, placing a chaste kiss on your lips before pulling back completely. “So you really do love the height difference?” you joke, unable to take your eyes off of her. “Of course I do. I love everything about you”.

[anurst]

What He Likes

Summary: Natasha makes an observation about the girls that Jake hits on, and you jump to conclusions about his type. Let's just say you make the irrational decision to cut your hair after.

A/N: sorry this isn't a Girl Bradshaw update :( ik a lot of people have been waiting for an update. I've been lowkey spiraling but I'm feeling better now! college has been stressing me tf out but I'm starting to take better care of myself! if you haven't noticed there's a tip option now so if you want maybe tip? i don't wanna pressure anyone at all!! i figured that maybe I could get paid while writing since it's something that I love to do ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ anyway enjoy! this has been sitting in my drafts for a while

Pairing(s): Jake Seresin x (fem) reader

Warning(s): mentions of alcohol, language, inaccurate military cause I said so, reader is described with long hair

"Have you ever noticed how Hangman only goes after girls with short hair?" Natasha says beside you, and you stop mid-sip. Your eyes shift from Bradley and Bob's pool game towards Jake and a short-haired brunette.

They're both standing near the bar, and the woman gives Jake a bright smile as she laughs at something he says. The moment her hand brushes against his arm, jealousy fills you. It wasn't a secret between you and Natasha that you had a crush on Jake. Being the only woman in the dagger squad meant that the two of you spent a lot of time together.

"Nope," you respond to her, and a finger wraps itself in a strand of your hair. It's an understatement to say you have long hair. After seeing Rapunzel as a little girl, you committed to having long hair like her. It's been your pride and joy since you were young, the reason many girls have showered you in compliments about how long and luscious it is. But now, looking at Jake and the short-haired girl heading towards the door of the Hard Deck, you curse your decision to keep your hair so long.

"Hey, Princess!" Mickey calls out, and you turn to look at him. "You up for some pool?" You force a smile and stand from your seat beside Natasha.

"Only if you're up for losing again."

'Oh God, this was a terrible idea,' you think as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Your fingers run through your shoulder-length hair, and you groan. The memories from last night are a little hazy as you try to think about how you ended up in this situation.

After having one too many drinks, Bradley gave you a ride home, and you ended up in your bathroom with a pair of scissors. Natasha's words from hours earlier seemed to echo in your head as you frowned. "If Jake likes girls with short hair, I can be a girl with short hair," you mumbled as you cut inches of your hair off. Hair strands fell to the ground as you measured the ends with your fingers. Looking into the mirror, you smiled at your new hair, and a yawn slipped out of your lips as you looked down at your phone resting on the sink. "I really gotta sleep."

'This is so so so so so very bad' You squint at the uneven portions of your hair and grimace as you try to fix them. The sound of your phone ringing draws your attention away from your hair. Running out the bathroom and into your room, you answer the phone to hear Natasha's voice.

"Hey! I'm outside! Oh, and I got you an iced coffee and bagel for breakfast."

"Nat..."

"Yeah?"

"I really need your help right now..."

"What'd you do now?"

"Holy shit," Bradley gawks at you, and you groan as you cover your face with your hands. Natasha glares from beside you before she hits Bradley in the stomach. The brunette groans as he doubles over slightly before forcing a smile onto his face. "It's not that bad," he tries to reassure you.

Momentarily, you look up at him. With one glimpse of his, you already know he's lying, and you try to muffle a cry. "Idiot!" Natasha seethes as she rubs your back. Bradley raises his hands in mock surrender.

"Sorry!"

"(y/n), it's really not that bad."

"Yeah! It's just, uh, different. You still look beautiful," Bradley says as he smiles at you. Your eyes shift between his face and Natasha's before you give them a weak nod.

"We should get going," you say with a deep breath as you puff your chest out in fake confidence. Fake it until you make it, you know? You'd try to act confident with your new hair, even if you wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and hide. Natasha and Bradley let you lead the way towards the classroom.

Eyes are all you feel as you walk into the classroom and sit beside Javy. You try to shy away from his gaze by placing your chin into your palm, but eventually, you turn to him with your eyes narrowed.

"What?"

"Your hair..."

"I wanted to try something new," you mumble before burying your head into your arms. Maybe you should have called in sick. That'd be better than feeling like everyone's staring at you.

"Princess?" Jake's voice calls from behind you, and your head whips up and around to look at Jake. His usual cocky look is replaced with a dropped jaw and wide eyes. "You...your hair...you..."

You can't help but giggle at his words, "Yeah, I cut it last night when I was a little drunk. Kinda a bad decision," you say, your hand nervously tucking a strand behind your ear. Jake doesn't reply, his jaw still dropped and staring straight at you. Self-conscious, you huff. "If you don't like it, then just say it. I can take it."

"No! I just- uh- well-"

"Okay, let's get started," Pete says as he walks in. "Hangman, quit your drooling and sit down. You can stare at Princess some other time."

"You know, I like you more with the short hair!" Mickey says while handing you a beer. You snort and toast your beers before cheering on Bradley and Bob as they take on Javy and Reuben in pool.

A cough from behind you makes you turn around. Jake is standing there, his cheeks flushed red, and embarrassment is clear on his face. "I wanted to say that I like it— your hair."

Nodding, you lick your lips. "Sorry if I was a little mean in the morning. I just was trying to get used to it."

Jake chuckles and dismisses your apologies. "It definitely will take some time to get used to."

"I thought you'd be thrilled about it."

"Huh?" Confusion spreads all over Jake's face. Seeing him confused, you all raise a brow.

"I mean, you like girls with short hair, right? I figured you'd like my new hair, too."

"Who told you that?"

As you remember the conversation between you and Natasha, your cheeks flush. "Well, no one told me that. I just, like, kinda assumed."

"Assumed?"

"Yeah, I mean, all the girls you take home all have short hair, so I just thought you were into those kinda girls, ya know?"

"So, you've been watching me?" Jake grins, and you realize what your words have implied.

"What?! No! I just—" You're cut off when Jake starts laughing. Groaning, you put your beer down and cover your face. Jake's laughter slowly dies as he reaches for your hands to pull them away from your face.

"For the record, darlin'. I'm into you."

"Huh?"

Jake chuckles before smiling, "I'm not into girls with short hair. I'm into you," his face then looks a little embarrassed, "I thought you were so out of my league that I went after girls that didn't look like you. 'Sides, I never really took any of them back to my place."

A smile starts to grow on your face as you giggle. "You're into me? No jokes?"

"No jokes, darlin'." Without another second passing, you rush forward and press your lips to Jake's, his eagerly molding with yours. Fireworks go off in your belly as Jake's fingers brush against your short strands of hair. You both pull away, and Jake frowns.

"Can you grow your hair back out? You're always beautiful, but the Rapunzel hair was just so you."

[chucky-vs-the-giant-tortoise]

i’ve got you

JJ Maybank x sister!reader

summary: an anxious Y/N feels overwhelmed while partying with the pogues at the boneyard, and JJ does his best to calm her nerves.

warning(s): underaged drinking, panic attack

a/n: a big thank you to anyone who enjoyed my last maybank!sister snippet. i hope to write a lot more for JJ in the future, so feel free to leave any requests if you have any specific ideas of what you’d like to read!

also please let me know if i should make these shorter. lol. i'm never sure.

Y/N screwed her eyes shut, trying and failing to keep her hands from trembling as they dented her red solo cup. Her heart was beating so fast that her head could barely keep up, the loud music and sweaty bodies that enclosed her doing nothing to ease her mind.

It was a picturesque summer night out in the boneyard, which of course meant that the Pogues just had to have a kegger. Y/N had grown used to the routine by then, tagging along as they went out to buy the keg and an insane amount of plastic cups that Kie always complained she found littered all over the beach the morning after. Y/N typically helped in the prep for whatever wild evening lay ahead, and had even served as a DD the few times that the Pogues got plastered enough to willingly allow a 15-year-old to drive the Twinkie. However, despite her brother's constant pleading and nagging, she'd never actually attended one of their infamous beach parties.

At least, not until tonight.

Y/N had always been shy, the complete opposite of her elder brother and all of his wild impulsivity. She hated big crowds and loud noises, and even though she would occasionally drink one while out on the Pogue, she wasn't even the biggest fan of beer. But JJ had begged her to join them all day long, poking and prodding at her nerves in his attempts to finally get his baby sister out of her shell.

"Come on, Y/N. You really wanna spend the rest of your life cooped up in the chateau?" he'd said dramatically, throwing his hands up in desperation. "You really oughtta live a little sometime."

You really oughtta live a little sometime.

His words had haunted her well into the evening, and at the last minute she'd finally decided to bite the bullet. JJ was right, after all. While most kids her age were busy making memories and taking risks, she spent her evenings curled up with a book in her lap.

Sure, it wouldn't be the most comfortable experience, but what was the worst that could happen? After all, like her brother always said, stupid things had good outcomes all the time.

She made a mental note to correct JJ on that stupid motto as someone pushed past her, blowing chunks into the bushes only a few feet away from rigid form.

Y/N covered her nose, averting her gaze just in time to notice a familiar head of blond hair breaking through the mess of bodies whooping and grinding on one another.

"Holy shit!" JJ hollered wildly, dimples painfully visible in his state of drunken bliss. "Tom, that's some gnarly shit, man! Trust me, you're gonna feel that tomorrow." He gave the boy a pat on the back as he retched, though thankfully the steady stream of vomit had ended.

Y/N only stood and watched. It was clear that JJ hadn't seen her, but maybe that was for the best. The last thing she wanted was to ruin his night.

"Yo, Y/N/N!"

Too late.

JJ made his way over in sloppy strides, and Y/N turned up her nose at the stench of alcohol clinging to him. He pulled her into him with an arm slung over her shoulders.

"Hi, Jay." Y/N hoped her brother was drunk enough not to notice the tremble in her voice.

"Where'd you go, kid? I've been looking for you all night." He was leaning on her now, gleefully unaware as he slowly crushed her beneath his weight. Y/N groaned with the effort it took to keep her brother upright, struggling not to remind him that it was in fact he who left her to do some shots and never returned.

"Yeah I was . . . I was j-just--"

"Shit, I didn't know you were drinking. That's my girl," he slurred with a wink, pointing at the cup Y/N was damn near close to dropping. It was all getting too much for her—JJ's weight boring into her side, the overwhelming stench of beer, the screaming mouths and dancing bodies slowly closing her in. She felt like a caged animal, her lungs tight and chest heavy.

"Hey, you seen Pope yet? I lost him an hour ago—saw him walk off with some blonde chick with a tramp stamp. Oh, you need a top-up? You should go now, 'm pretty sure the keg's getting low."

JJ continued to ramble on as Y/N crumbled underneath him, her eyes searching desperately for somewhere to go.

"Aw man, I love this song!" Y/N gasped as JJ began jerking her around, forcing her to sway back and forth with him. "Yo, Kurt! Turn that shit up bro!"

Y/N felt blood rushing to her ears, her hands growing clammy as her nerves took over. You're fine, she told herself. You're fine, you're fine. But it wasn't working—she couldn't hear herself think over the music blaring from the speakers.

"Come on, loosen up Y/N! Let's dance!"

"No!" Y/N reached her breaking point, escaping from beneath her brother's outstretched arm. JJ stumbled, just barely managing to catch himself and get a good look at the fear etched into Y/N's features.

"What? Y/N—" He held out a hand that she cringed away from, breathing raggedly as she did.

"Just leave me alone!"

"Y/N!" JJ called after her as she ran off, not knowing exactly where she was headed but intent on getting away. She wound up crouching behind a small hill across from the bustling core of the party, far enough away that the music finally fell to an acceptable volume.

Y/N brought her knees to chest and buried her face in them, fingers tugging at her hair as tears spilled from her eyes. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could she be dumb enough to let JJ convince her that this would be a good idea? Y/N forced her breathing to slow as her chest tightened, coughing in her feeble attempts.

Y/N had listened to a few songs run their course by the time she managed to get a grip on herself, her breaths steadying as she counted eight-second inhales and eight-second exhales. Still Y/N rested her forehead against her knees, so dead-set on staying calm that she didn't notice the sound of JJ's footsteps in the sand.

"Hey." Y/N gasped, her head shooting upright as she scrambled to back away from whoever had found her. "Hey, calm down. It’s alright, Y/N." She sighed in relief when she recognized JJ's outline in the dark, her brother crouched before her shrunken form. "It's okay. Just me."

"Oh," she mumbled. "Sorry."

"'S okay. Didn't mean to scare you." He awkwardly held out another cup to her, which she observed warily. "Don't worry, it’s just water. Figured it might help more than beer."

Y/N smiled, accepting JJ's peace offering gratefully. "You'd be right about that." She greedily drank it all in one gulp, only then realizing how dry her mouth had gotten. "Thanks, Jay."

"Least I could do, since I forced you to come her." Y/N sighed, noticing the guilt swimming in her brother's blue eyes.

"You didn't force me."

"Well, I might as well have."

"it's not your fault, JJ." He rested a comforting hand on her knee.

"Sure it is. I knew you didn't like this kind of scene and I dragged you here anyway." He ran his free hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut as regret consumed his intoxicated mind.

"It's okay." Y/N shuffled closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. JJ ruffled her hair. "Sorry I can't be a party animal like you."

"Ah, don't sweat it. Makes my job a lot easier, anyway." Y/N giggled, shoving him lightly, and JJ couldn't help but smile. "So, what's the plan? Want me to drive you home?"

Y/N scoffed. "I don't even think you could if you tried."

"Oh, Y/N," He teased her with a smile, "you severely underestimate my driving skills."

"And you severely overestimate my willingness to die." JJ chuckled at that. "Plus, who said I wanted to leave?"

"You’re gonna stay?'

"Yeah, why not? I mean, I've made myself a pretty comfy hideout over here." JJ pouted.

"I guess . . ." He looked down at his sister with a smirk. "Or you could try the party again."

Immediately Y/N felt that skin-crawling uncertainity take over once more. She bit at her bottom lip. "I don't . . . I dunno, Jay."

"Look, I promise I won't leave you this time. We can just sit around the campfire—maybe try to find Kie or something. What'd'ya think?" He held out a hand to her. "We'll take it slow."

Y/N considered this for a moment, eventually taking hold of her brother's hand. "Okay."

"Sweet!" JJ tried his best to stand, but only wound up falling back on his ass. "I'm gonna need some help getting up, though."

Y/N laughed, hoisting her brother to his feet with a grunt, and JJ smiled as she allowed her hand to linger in his while they walked. The very same way she did when they were little.

Just like JJ promised, he found the two of them a space to sit by the blazing campfire and never left Y/N's side.

・❥・

Hours had passed before the kegger had begun to die down, their beer long gone and speakers long dead. The rest of the Pogues had finally joined the Maybanks around the fire pit, and the group listened comfortably as Kie plucked at the strings of her ukulele. "Y'know what, Jay? I wouldn't mind trying this kegger thing again."

JJ smiled. "You mean it?"

"Yeah, I mean it." She snuggled closer to his chest, absorbing whatever extra heat his body offered. "As long as you're there to hold my hand."