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mariasont · 3 days

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Be So Stupid - S.R

a/n: this has been sitting in my WIPs for so long and i finally finished it! now going to reward myself with online shopping xoxo

kind of inspired by when jj and reid split up in season 2 i think? when morgan was kinda being rude to her but i picture like season 12-13 spence

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: you make a mistake while on a case nearly getting spencer killed, morgan has some choice words and spencer is ready to beat his ass over it

warnings: morgan being a little shit simply for the plot, mention of spencer almost dying, spencer being a protective king pussy boss

wc: 1.4k

How could you be so stupid?

Those were the words that had been on replay, a constant loop, for the past two days. It's because, somewhere inside, you knew Morgan was justified in what he said. How could you have been so stupid to split up with Spencer at the unsubs house?

He was taken by the unsub, a trigger pull away from death. But the team got there, and he was okay. He was alive and breathing and healthy, and you tried to focus on these facts when your chest tightened with that familiar agonizing twinge.

It was a relief not to face anyone afterward. As soon as you got home from the case, you holed yourself up in your apartment, obsessively dissecting the events until the recollections twisted your insides with a nauseating sense of dread. You had run through every potential scenario in your head, agonizing over the grim outcomes if you hadn't arrived when you did.

You would've never forgiven yourself.

So here you were, hiding out in Penelope's lair, doing your paperwork. You convinced yourself it wasn't hiding; rationalizing it as a need for more peace and quiet than the bullpen could offer. You knew it was bullshit, and so did Garcia.

"Just so you know, I'm fully prepared to kick his ass on your behalf," she announced, swiveling to face her monitors, the ribbons in her hair trailing her movement like colorful comets. "It was totally uncalled for. Everyone agrees."

"Everyone?"

"Well, okay, not Spencer, but that's only because he doesn't know," Garcia continued, her pen tapping a silent code against her cheek, followed by the clack of keys. "If he did, he'd definitely kick his ass."

"I don't know about that," you said, repeatedly stretching and releasing the hair tie around your wrist, each snap a self-inflicted reprimand.

"He called you stupid." She was shaking her head so vigorously her blonde locks tumbled into her eyes as she paused her typing to look at you. "And you, my gorgeous friend, are anything but."

"Generally speaking, sure, but this time, Pen, I really screwed up."

"Who called you stupid?"

Spencer's voice was incredibly hard to ignore, distinct—you would recognize it anywhere.

Garcia and you stopped dead, your eyes growing impossibly large as she gave you a look as if to say, Morgan is screwed.

"No one."

"Morgan."

You and Garcia blurt your words out at the same time, your voices clashing in the air. You whipped your head to Garcia, the betrayal written on your face as she only shrugged her shoulders.

"Why would he say that to you?"

Spencer's steps towards you were measured, but each one amplified your unease, you hands wringing together as you looked away. He could read you like a book, and most times that was a good thing, but today it was definitely not.

"It's really not a big deal, Spencer," you insisted, pursing you lips as you dragged your gaze up and over him. "But how about you? How are you holding up?"

You were on your feet in an instant, a little too quickly, wobbling on your heel just a tab before Spencer grabbed your elbow. You ignore his touch, or at least you try, and press the back of your hand to his forehead.

He wasn't warm, but you sure were.

"You know, I don't think you should be back at work so soon."

You weren't lying when you said that. It seemed to soon. Was he looking a little pale? You couldn't tell. He should be home.

His hand was suddenly around your wrist, soft but firm, easing you away from his forehead, his eyes narrowing at you.

"Hey, I'm alright." He was trying to be assuring, offering a faint smile that only served to make your stomach do backflips. "Really, I am."

His fingers frapped around your wrist, not quite letting go, as he directed his attention to Garcia. "Why did he say that to her?"

"I'm right here," you grumbled under your breath, but Spencer was paying you no mind.

"I'm aware," Spencer answered without looking at you as his hands found their way to your shoulders, thumbs tracing absent patterns on your skin. "But you are not providing any answers."

Garcia cut in, folding her arms over her chest as her eyes pinned you with an unspoken accusation. "He said it because you two split up on the case."

Her words seemed to thicken the air itself, snatching away the previous ease as Spencer's expression darkened. It was a new and unsettling sight--the tightness in his jaw, the faint crease in his brows, and the steely sharpness in his eyes.

Without uttering a single syllable, he spun on his heel and strode out the door. You didn't hesitate to chase after him, an inkling of his destination propelling you forward. The look on his face had planted a seed of fear about what he was going to do.

Sure enough, there he was, just as you anticipated, in the middle of the bull pit. His gaze locked on Morgan with a laser-like precision, like a hawk eyeing its prey.

"How could you say that to her?" His voice was jagged, hands thumping against Morgan's shoulders in a way that you frantically looked around for Hotch. "What? Were you trying to make her feel bad? What's the matter with you?"

"Easy, Spencer, what are you getting at?" Morgan's hands went up defensively. But when Spencer's eyes flickered to you, the puzzle pieces clicked into place. "Oh..."

Morgan's eyes found yours. "Come here, sugar."

Morgan was your friend, a good one at that, and you really didn't blame him for what he said. He had good intentions. But here in the bullpen being open and exposed you found yourself stalling, glancing towards Spencer.

Only after he gave you a nod did you take that tentative step forward, clammy palms running down your pants as you stood in front of Morgan.

"Look, I was out of line. Calling you stupid was stupid of me," he started, hand grabbing on your upper arm as he spoke. "We've all been in tough spots and I was an asshole for adding to the pressure instead of helping you through it."

And you knew he meant it, even if it took Spencer nearly coming to blows to bring it about.

"It's okay, I know you didn't mean it, Morgan. And it was my fault really, for not staying with Spencer."

"First off, we made that call together, so if anyone's at fault, it's both of us," Spencer reminded, his hand settling on your lower back as he moved closer to you. His gaze then drilled into Morgan. "And second, Morgan, she's too nice. I say you owe her a month's work of paperwork at least."

You opened your mouth to object, but Morgan cut you off, his hand on your shoulder stopping me mid-breath. "After what I said? I'll do you one better--I'll handle your paperwork for two months."

He was gone before you could even thank him, making his way towards the break room, leaving you and Spencer.

"Hey, look at me." You did, raising your eyes to meet his. "What happened on that last case—it's not on you. We made a call, and we did it with the best intentions. It's not your fault."

He regarded you so... softly. It stirred a flutter of goosebumps across your skin, your hands rubbing up and down your arms as if to smooth away the sensation.

"Seeing you in that situation, so close to..." You paused, drawing in a ragged breath as the sickening memories came flooding back. "I can't help but feel responsible. It's a tough guilt to shake."

He rearranged a lock of hair behind your ear.

"It's a cognitive distortion to assume sole responsibility, but that's just your brain tricking you." Taking your hand he pressed it over his heart. "A human heart beats over two billion times in a lifetime. And every beat right now is telling you, I'm all good."

You could feel his heartbeat—thump, thump—against your palm. You caught yourself wanting to know what it would be like to fall asleep to the sound.

You were so close to each other now, the distance, or lack thereof, slightly overwhelming. "You're all good?"

He gave your hand a squeeze. "I'm all good."

You remained motionless, hand pressed to his chest, wondering if your heart could ever beat in sync with his.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath

#spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid #dr reid #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 days

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All In 11

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: it's a new week

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your phone buzzes against your leg, ripping you back to reality. Your eyes widen and drift away from the stream of font. You sit up and mark the page with your finger as you reach for the jittering cell.

You scramble to grab onto it and hesitate to hit the big green button. The screen doesn't look like usual, not that you get many calls. You tap the button and the image changes at once, Bucky startling you as he appears.

"Hey, doll," he grins and winks at you, moving the camera to lean against something. "How's it going?"

"Uhhhh," you drone, surprised. He can see you too. You know by the little reflection of yourself in the corner. "Hi. Fine." You put the book down with no mind to losing the page, "um, you?"

"You busy, doll?"

"Reading but... no."

"Mm," he hums, "glad to see you enjoying your treats but... no pajamas?"

He steps back and you get a view of him from waist up, the edge of a counter in the lower edge. You pout then give a sheepish smile, "sorry, I haven't... had a chance."

"That's okay, doll, I just wanted a peek before I went to work," he undoes his shirt button by button and pulls it off, revealing his muscular torso. You gulp at the lines of his muscle along his stomach, "why don't you put them on now and give me a look."

"Oh, uh..." you glance at the wall. It's late. You're pretty sure Roxie already left for work and your mom will probably be settling down. "Right, uh..."

"Just want something to think of when I walk the floor," he purrs.

"Sure, er," you nearly choke, "I'll just-- one sec."

"I can wait, doll. I've been waiting, haven't I?" He purrs.

You feel a pang of guilt. You place the phone down so the lens faces the ceiling and climb off the bed. He's given you a lot, too much honestly, and now you feel like you owe him. It isn't fair to take his kindness without anything in return. And he isn't asking much, is he?

You dig in the bag, the crinkle loud as the only other noise is the subtle movement from his end. You fish out the soft pajamas and peer over, making certain the phone is still flat. You change far away from it, paranoid.

You look down at yourself in the tank and shorts. Oh gosh. It's a lot less than you usually wear. Your legs are showing, your shoulders, and a bit of your tummy.

"Doll?" He says and you flinch.

"I don't know... I don't think it fits."

"I'm sure it fits just nice," he insists, "show me."

"Oh, uh..."

"I'm just looking, doll, I'll only think of what I really wanna do," he snickers.

You cross back to the bed and pick up the phone, careful to stay out of view. You turn back and prop it up on the dresser, overly aware of the unflattering angle as you do. You give a wide-eyed look and back up so you're all in frame.

You hug yourself shyly and sway.

"Let me see ya," he orders.

You put your arms straight and notice how he leans in to look at the screen, smoothing his hair back. He keeps his hands over his dark strands and growls. A flutter starts in your stomach.

"What do you mean too small? That fits your perfect," he says.

"I... really?"

"Sure, doll," he turns and you realise he's getting ready.

He combs his hair stands straight. He grabs a new shirt and buttons it as he peeks again. You near the camera and move it so he can only see your face.

"Damn, doll, I'm gonna be all over the place," he says, "you're so sweet and sexy."

"Bucky," you squeak.

"I don't lie. That's the one thing you should know about me. I will always let you know exactly what I want."

You blush hotly and a tap on the door nearly makes you drop the phone. You hide it behind you and shuffle closer. You clear your throat.

"Uh, yeah?" You call through.

"Hey, honey, everything okay in there?" She asks. Shoot, she must have heard you.

"I'm watching something," your heart hammers, "sorry, I'll turn it down."

"It's alright, honey. Just thought I heard you..."

"No, just a show," you wisp out.

You quickly back away and go as far from the door as you can. You look down at the phone as Bucky tucks in his shirt. Ugh, that was embarrassing. He heard all that; surely he must realise how lame you are.

"Mom sounds real sweet," he says, "must be where you get it."

"She's working tomorrow. Don't wanna keep her up," you explain quietly.

"That's too bad, doll. I'll just have to keep waiting... wanting," he shrugs and pulls on a dark jacket, "what do ya think? Look good?"

He poses for the camera. He looks great, as always. You feel smaller than ever.

"Yes," you answer softly.

"Yes? That's it?" He sounds disappointed.

"Very handsome," you eke out.

"Handsome?" He squints as he picks up the phone.

"Er," you search your repertoire and borrow from his, "sexy?"

"Are you asking or telling me?" He chuckles.

You giggle. You don't think you've ever told anyone they are sexy. You've never been that bold.

"Yes."

"Yes?" He laughs.

"You're, er, oh, sexy," you touch your hot cheek and look away.

"You are adorable, doll," he growls, "that's exactly what I need to hear." He grazes his fingertips over his beard, "unfortunately I gotta get on it so... tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," you confirm.

"Don't worry about a thing, doll, just bring your gorgeous self."

🃏

The next day is restless. It's worse having hours to wait around for... what? You don't know.

You spend your time reading, or trying to. Breakfast is small, what your roiling stomach can handle, and you put on an outfit that you think is acceptable, not that you have much to choose from. It might be strange if your mom or Roxie notice the lack of uniform. You could say you change at work?

Ugh, lie after lie. It's all so much.

You don't get very far in the book and your phone buzzes, a reminder from Bucky that your fate is coming. You grab your purse and sit out on the stoop, the sunlight beaming down. It would be a nice say if you were so damn uptight.

Merv pulls up in the sleek luxury car and you get up, checking over your shoulder to see if there's any curious tug on the curtain. Your mom's already at work but Roxie is puttering around somewhere. She could be sleeping or not.

Merv gets out to greet you. He opens the door and you thank him. He sits in the driver's seat and Springsteen drones from the radio. You smile as he shifts into gear.

"I know this one," you say.

"Of course, a classic," he praises. "And how are you today, miss?"

"Good, you, sir?"

He laughs as he steers, "very good, miss. And how could I not be." He peeks at you in the rear view, "with sunshine in my backseat."

You smile bashfully and cross your legs. You can't help the shake in your foot. You're more and more nervous with each second and turn of the wheel.

As if noticing your unease, he turns up the music, "I like this one too."

You sigh and ease into the drumbeat. The tempo keeps your heartbeat in check. You're thankful for his subtle comfort.

You turn to watch through the tinted windows. You never noticed how scenic this city is. You never went many places to have the chance.

He keeps the volume up and you let it carry you through the long journey across the city. He pulls up to the casino and steers around to the hotel entrance. You peer through then back at him in confusion. He turns the knob down.

"Mr. Barnes says to give your name at the desk," Merv instructs, "have a good day."

"Thanks, you too," you unbuckle the seat belt and sidle across to the door.

You get out with reticence. Staring up at the grand facade, you're more unsure than you've ever been. You've come this far, you have to keep going. You really have no choice as Merv slowly rolls away.

You step forward. It doesn't get easier the further you get. Your pulse hammers behind your ear as you enter the lobby and a flash of deja vu overcomes you. That night with Roxie, the morning after, and everything since. How does it all feel as if it happened so fast and yet so long ago?

You go to the desk, feeling entirely out of place. What if Merv is wrong and you shouldn't be there? What if they just look at you and laugh? No choice, keep going.

You stop on the other side of the desk and give a stiff smile.

"Hello, welcome, checking in?" The modelesque concierge asks. She's stunning and you're all the more self-aware.

"Uh, I think? My name is..."

She keeps her pristine smile in place and her eyes lights up. She doesn't even bother typing into her computer. She flits away and returns with one of little folders with the room keys inside. Oh, this is really happening.

You thank her and slowly back away. You make a slow advance towards the elevator and wait beside a couple with their suitcases. You step on with them, avoiding a glimpse through the transparent walls.

You unfold the folio and read the number, pushing the floor number, then stand back on your heels. You keep your eyes on the door, the motion alone making you dizzy.

The couple gets off before you. When it's your floor, you thankfully scramble off and take a deep breath. You once more check the number and follow the hallways to your assigned suite.

You swipe the card several times, you still don't have the hang of it. The door opens and you enter meekly. You focus on every move. Shut the door, slip the card back in the folder, put it down on the corner table.

You look up at last and let yourself marvel at the suite as you delve further in. The smell of pollen greets you with a large bouquet of roses. The suite is huge, even bigger than last time. Two rooms just the same and a full kitchenette and spacious bathroom. You don't go onto the balcony, not wanting to test your stomach.

You go back inside and glance over the table draped in a red tablecloth beneath the crystal vase of flowers. There's also a tray of chocolate-dipped strawberries and various colours of macarons. You've never had the delicate cookies before but you'd watch countless recipe videos, wishing on day to try them yourself.

There's an envelope too. You take it and run your nail along the sealed flap. You open it carefully and slip out the card within.

'Enjoy yourself, doll. I'll join you shortly. B.'

As if on cue, there's a knock on the door. Oh gosh, you're not ready. What does he mean? Join you? You hoped for a little long before... before...

You stand frozen but when the door doesn't open itself, you go to answer it. You slowly twist the long handle and open it just a crack. You peer around the edge and blink in confusion.

"Hello, dahling," the woman's affectation drags out her syllables, "well look at you, how precious."

She presses on the door and you let her force her way in. You're dumbfounded. Who the heck is she? Another long-legged beauty you can't compare too.

"Lovely hair," she remarks as she closes the door without a care, "oh, and your skin, yes, perfect canvas..."

"Sorry, er, I think you have the wrong room--"

"Mr. Barnes sent me, dahling," she trills in her way, "and I see you are very much in need of my visit so let's begin. Mm, yes, I have a vision," she struts forward, a rose gold chest in her hand, "not very much, you have a natural lustre I adore."

You retreat as she advances on you. She lifts her chest onto the chaise and flips back the lid, revealing an assortment of precisely organized palettes and tubes. You're horrified and humiliated as you realise why she's there. Maybe you aren't as pretty as Bucky keeps telling you.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #fic #bucky barnes x reader #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #casino au #avengers #winter soldier #captain america #marvel #mcu #all in

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ahqkas · 2 days

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Could I request headcannons on Mattheo having a short partner?

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

this man’s protective instincts kick into overdrive when it comes to you !!! he needs to keep you close, especially in crowded places, always positioning himself so that he can shield you from any potential harm or discomfort that could come your way

and don’t get me started on the way he would playfully tease the shit out of you. mattheo often ruffles your hair or uses your head as an armrest, grinning down at you with that signature smirk of his while shooting you a wink as well. in the common room, if you’re sitting on the couch reading a book or doing homework, he often sneaks up behind you with “what’s the weather down there??”

his favorite time to tease is when you’re trying to reach something high up. he’ll hold the object just out of your reach, enjoying the sight of you jumping up and stretching. “almost got it,” he chuckles, finally handing it over once he’s had his fun. “you know, you could always ask your tall, handsome, awesome boyfriend for help 😼”

mattheo is fond of coming up with new nicknames to call you. “shortcake” is one of his absolute favorites as it shows both your height & how sweet you’re with him. “pocket-sized” is a nickname that comes with its own set of jokes (“you know, i could just carry you around in my pocket ;)”). it’s a silly idea but the thought always makes you laugh

hugs !!! mattheo has a natural instinct to protect you, especially given your smaller statue. when he hugs you, he often wraps his arms around you completely, pulling you close to his chest. you can feel his heartbeat and the warmth radiating from his body. he’ll often surprise you by sneaking up from behind and pulling you into a slow & gentle embrace, resting his chin on the top of your head as he whispers comforting words into your ear

this man often tease you about your clothes in a lighthearted manner ! if you’re wearing something particularly oversized, like one of his slytherin sweaters, he chuckles and says, “looks like my sweater has swallowed you whole!”

mattheo enjoys the opportunity to show off his strength and take care of you by lifting you up in various playful and affectionate ways. whether you’re in the middle of a conversation or just standing around, he’ll suddenly scoop you up off the ground, eliciting a surprised laugh from you. “gotcha!” he’ll say with a mischievous grin, twirling you around before setting you back down gently

one of mattheo’s favorite ways to carry you is by giving you piggyback rides. he’ll kneel down and invite you to climb onto his back, making sure you’re secure before standing up and carrying you around. it’s a playful and intimate gesture that makes you feel close to him, and he loves hearing your giggles as he walks or runs with you on his back

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leonw4nter · 1 day

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I really like ur fics with Leon as a dad 🤍 can I request one where it’s angst at the start but happy at the end? I think with Leon’s job he’s probably alway moving to new places and his wife is kinda at the point where she just can’t take it and worried for their kid?

My Baby Here On Earth Showed Me What My Heart Was Worth

Husband!RE:Damnation!Leon x F!Reader

“The kids are sleeping now,” you quietly tell your husband as you get into bed with him.

He hums a response, setting aside a copy of William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury as he gets up. To go look at the kids one more time for the night, he says as he walks around the foot of the bed and towards the door. You wait until Leon noiselessly closes the door, his footsteps growing fainter as he grows more distanced from you, to sigh deeply, sitting up to lean against the cold headboard as you bury your face in your hands for a moment. You love Leon and you know that he loves you and your kids too but he’s grown increasingly distant with each passing day after coming home from deployment to the Eastern Slav Republic. You’ve done your best to show that you’re there for him, initiating conversations and even giving him simple compliments but the most he’s done is look in your direction and nod. A hum and a forced smile, if you’re lucky and he’s feeling less bad about himself. He still took care of the kids, driving them to school and playing with them in the afternoons but it’s clear that his mind is far from home. Even the kids could sense just how weary their father is, doing their best to cheer him up by giving him colorful drawings and letters. “Don’t be sad, daddy! Me, Ollie, and mama are here for yuo!” one of them reads, the word ‘you’ misspelled but Leon loved it nonetheless. For a quick moment he genuinely smiled whenever he read the letters and saw the drawings again before the frown took its place in his face again as he put the artwork in a folder and placed it back in the drawer cabinet.

You lifted your head from your hands when Leon walked back in, silent as always as he headed back to his side of the bed. You stared at him, urging him to say something–anything, just to dissolve the wall that he put up around himself but to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t speak. He checks the time on his phone and decides that it’s far too late to continue reading his book and sinks down beneath the covers, muttering a nearly inaudible ‘goodnight’ to you before he closes his eyes and drifts to sleep. Hurt, you scoff at how distant he feels. Physically, he’s home and with you but you know that emotionally and mentally, he’s still on the other side of the world and dealing with Tyrants, Lickers, and corrupt leaders. Turning the lamp off, you sink into the sheets as well and turn to face the wall. You have so much to say, so much to express to him but you’re afraid that this will only push him further from you even more. Worst case scenario, he packs his bags and sleeps in a hotel for a week before coming home plastered. He’s never done that before but you don’t want this rift to widen to the point he even considers doing that, maybe even leave behind the family he has with you for the enigmatic woman in red. Inhaling deeply, you shut your eyes before you speak to him. You don’t even think deeply about what you’re doing before your fears get to you and force you to shut up again.

“I can’t keep doing this, Leon.” You shakily begin. “We can’t keep doing this. I’m here for you, so are the kids, but you’re pushing us all away.”

“I need space.” He responds. Short and curt, straight to the point but you wish he said more.

“What does ‘space’ mean to you, Leon?” you gently ask as you sit up and face him who is still curled up on his side, his face hidden away like a secret. “I just want to know what I can do to support you while also giving you some time alone.”

“Leave me alone. There. That’s the kind of space I want,” he grumbles as he sits up, facing you. You stay silent for a moment, your sympathetic gaze on him but his eyes are elsewhere as he runs a hand through his dark hair, not wanting to see the look on your face.

“Okay. But let’s still talk, okay? Let’s voice out how we feel and communicate, I want to be able to provide you with what you need–”

“Why are you doing this?” Leon interrupts, not out of irritation but rather out of wonder. Your eyes widen for a quick moment before you inch a little near him, hesitant to reach out and place your hand on his hand.

“Because I care for you, Leon, and I don’t want to see you suffer alone. I want to be here for you and share the weight of the world on your shoulders too. You don’t have to keep it all to yourself, I can see it eating away at you.”

He doesn’t stop you when you take his hand, feeling the scars and calluses on them. He quite misses your touch, actually, but he felt like he was throwing himself a pity party whenever he thought about asking you for a hug or a kiss.

“I don’t want to bring home anything from work,” he explains. “I don’t plan on mixing it– work and home life… and I didn’t expect for it to get to this. That I’m pushing you and the kids away. I don’t… I don’t want my family to even think about how the monsters I’ve killed looked like or how I killed them. Something as precious as you three don’t deserve that. Our little ones, most of all.”

Pulling him in for the first hug in nearly two weeks, after two weeks of Leon trying to avoid your physical display of affection, he gives in. He leans his forehead on your shoulder but doesn’t wrap his arms around you and instead, lies limply on his side.

“Oh Leon,” you delicately whisper. Sushing and humming the same tune you used to hum when your toddlers were still tiny babies, you tenderly sway Leon from side to side in order to ease all the anguish he bottled up and refused to share. It doesn’t take long for his tears to wet your shoulder, his large frame shaken with stifled sobs. He went by “Condor One”, “Agent Kennedy”, and many other aliases required by his job but at the end of the day, he is your Leon Scott Kennedy. “Daddy”, as his dear children would call him.

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Leon slept in your arms, his head buried in your side with an arm slung around your stomach, for the first time in the longest time. He still shook and spoke in his sleep, flinching at times, but his sleep appeared to be much more restful. It was your turn to be unable to fall asleep now, a hand gently patting Leon’s shoulder blade with a watchful eye observing him. You were tired from the entire day and the crying you did with him hours ago but you couldn’t find it in you to doze off; you thought about your kids’ future and raising them, along with considering the fact that Leon was rarely home for a long time and was always moving to new places for indefinite periods. Each mission brought the fear that this would be the last time you’d see Leon alive, to be talking to you in person and that what would come home to you are two agents holding a folded flag, an urn, and what remained of his gear instead. It would be cruel for Leon, who proudly proclaims that his life has only begun when he met you. Leon, who knew what it meant to truly live when he found out that you were pregnant with his children. You knew that it also hurt Leon to leave at ungodly hours of the night when he was going to be deployed for a mission and to think that his kids would wonder where their daddy is and why he’s always gone. You’re used to Leon’s constant absence but it doesn’t hurt any less each time he has to go. His job is bad for your heart, constantly putting it in a state of worry and fear. It always stung whenever your kids asked if they could go with Leon when he had to leave on an “adventure” because they wanted to spend more time with him. You hated breaking the news to Leon that he’d have to miss out on another one of their school events, having to phone Chris or Patrick to attend in his place; he sounded so pained whenever he asked about the details of the event, his dreams of walking up the stage and being active in his childrens’ schooling playing in his head every time he closed his eyes for a quick nap before being back on his feet and killing monsters. Ultimately, you decided to give the kids a day trip with Leon since their only trip with Leon was when they were still babies. Sighing once more before giving sleep another try, you start to mentally compile all the things needed for tomorrow’s road trip.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“She’s already got a stain on his shirt and the ice cream hasn’t even melted yet,” Leon says with an amused grin as he tries to wipe the chocolate off of Euphemia’s pink shirt with a wet wipe. You’re preoccupied with watching over the other twin Ollie, who’s trying to call a stray cat and give the kitty a lick of his vanilla ice cream. You look back at Leon, who’s giving his daughter kisses as he got the stain to look a lot less dark than it was earlier.

“Pheme still tends to get ice cream everywhere,” you softly tell him as you offer another set of wipes, to which he declines since the stain isn’t obvious and the wipes could be used for later. Leon smiles when he notices you use the nickname he gave to Euphemia; he’s managed to get you to use this one instead of his other loving nickname for Oliver, “Rolliver Polliver”, derived from when Ollie almost ate a roly poly bug.

All of you finish eating ice cream without getting any more stains or a cat being fed something it shouldn’t be fed and get back to the car, hitting the road once more. Queen, Hall & Oates, Elton John, and The Flamingos have been traded for nursery rhymes and songs to induce sleep in toddlers in order to get them to nap a little bit. Instead of Leon sitting in the passenger seat with you, he decided to sit at the back in between the kids in order to spend some time being near them on the road trip. The twins seemed to have gotten their habit of sleeping with their head leaned back and mouth slightly ajar while softly snoring from Leon, who is also asleep with his hands on their child car seat. Caught in a red light, you quietly observe this tender moment in the front and snap a few pictures of them with your digital camera from 1989 that still surprisingly works well. You giggle at the sight behind you, heart melting at seeing your husband and children look so adorable. His jacket is on your lap when you told him that you were feeling a little chilly, insisting that he’s fine in the back without one. Just earlier, he was making funny faces and holding a serious, one-sided conversation with his little ones, making them laugh and giggle at his every word and now they’re all asleep together. If it means having more moments like this, you’re ready to fight the D.S.O. for keeping your husband occupied on the other side of the world. You guess that it’s also moments like these that Leon continues to fight bioterrorism so that other families can safely enjoy moments like this one without worrying about monsters coming to harm their loved ones. Since the red light is still going and you seem to have been caught in a moderate traffic, you take out your video cam and film the soft scene behind you. “Papa and the kiddos are sleeping together, their snoring isn’t in sync so there’s no moment of silence for me but I don’t mind. I love you all so much and momma is very happy right now.”

After nearly four hours of driving, you four finally get to the cliff overlooking the great wide sea. Parking your car to a safe place, you take out the picnic basket and start preparing your spot. You two chose a spot underneath the shade of a thick tuliptree, a cover from the hot sun. The kids have been asking so much about finally being able to play soccer and ‘helicopter’, a game where Pheme and Ollie hang from Leon’s arms as he spins around (the twins have promised to never, ever play ‘helicopter’ again because they got dizzy but they seem to have ‘forgotten’ it this time) and you explained that they can play an hour after having the picnic and when the sun isn’t so hot anymore. Leon agrees and although the twins don’t seem too happy, they don’t appear to mind it that much since they’re eager to help Leon in unloading the car (he gave them the lighter tasks). As soon as the food is set and most of the bugs have been successfully warded off, the twins gather to sit beside you but before everyone can take a bite of the sandwiches, Leon gets up and takes the digital camera and snaps a couple of pictures, even attempting a selfie at one point. Soon, everyone digs into their sandwiches and stuffs their faces full of the snacks you and Leon prepared together in the morning.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After what felt like the nth picture Leon has taken of you and the twins, he finally puts the camera down and puts it back in its case but picks up the video cam instead. The twins groan, urging their dad for more playtime even if they’re drenched in sweat with dirty knees.

“5 minutes,” Leon says as he starts recording. “Papa’s back hurts. Why don’t you ask mama?”

“Mama already played! She can’t carry us and she says she’s also tired! She’s reading now!” Pheme exclaims.

He points the camera towards you, reading a pocketbook in the picnic basket while dabbing your forehead and neck with a towel. He laughs and calls you, causing you to look up from the book you were engrossed with and blow him a kiss. He laughs one more time, ‘catching’ the kiss and placing it inside his shorts pocket which gets a giggle out of you.

“My beautiful wife is uhh sitting there, she’s reading.” He narrates as he zooms in. “Very beautiful, the sunlight is hitting her just right. Gosh, she makes me nervous and she doesn’t even know. Love her very much.”

He zooms out and zooms into his children, who decide to take interest in the rocks and starts flinging them towards the cliff with the intention to try to fling it to the ocean, which is quite far from where they are.

“Hey kiddos,” he says as he walks up to them and pats them with his free hand. “What’re you doin’?”

“We’re trying to throw rocks into the ocean!” Ollie and Pheme cheerfully explain, showing their rocks to the lens before flinging it with all their tiny might.

“Ooh, that’s quite far honey,” Leon comments. “Want me to try?”

The twins cheer and he takes that as an opportunity to throw one, the recording being temporarily shaky.

“Woah! You threw it far, papa!” The twins say and clap, determined to throw it as far as he did. He helps the twins throw it, focused on teaching them how to aim and the force they need to exert to fling it a little farther.

After several minutes of flinging rocks and random conversations with your husband and your kids, you call them over to look at the pictures Leon has taken. Everyone gathers around you as you look at each one, oohing and aahing at Leon’s photography skills. Leon focuses the cam on the pictures popping up in the digital camera, chipping in with his thoughts.

“Mommy looks amazing there,” he breathily says. “Divine. What’d you think, Pheme?”

“So pretty!” She beams before giving you a big kiss on the cheek. Ollie giggles and snuggles closer to you, occasionally pointing to the pictures.

Like you guessed, most of the pictures are of you, the kids, or both. Observant like their dad, they picked up on this as well.

“Pa, you’re not in a lot of the photos! It’s always us or mama!”

Leon chuckled, ruffling his kids’ heads. He extends a pointer finger to a shadow in the image before you switch to another one, pointing to the tall shadow once again.

“That’s me,” Leon explains. “I’m the shadow.”

His twins seem confused, falling into silence along with you, who is also intrigued by Leon’s words.

“When you look at these pictures when you’re bigger, I want you all to know that I’m always here. These are proofs that I’m with you because I’m the shadow and I’ll always look out for all three of you,” he explains

The twins say ‘aww’ at the same time and tackle his legs, hugging him tight. While you set the camera down and look at Leon with a small pout and slightly glossy eyes. Leon chuckles softly and places a free hand on your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek before you join your twins in giving him a big bear hug as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I love you, Leon.” You softly tell him, warm breath fanning against his neck.

“Me too, sweetheart. I love you more.” He tenderly responds as he hugs you and the kids back.

He’s thankful that this tender moment is caught on camera so he can rewatch it several more times before he goes to bed.

NOTE - I hope you liked this fic anon!!! At first, I wasn't super confident about writing this or how it'll turn out but I think it turned out nicely ngl :) YALL. I finally got my driver's license. I can drive. Do I know how to? I know the theoretical aspects of it but driving itself? Running a motor vehicle? I have yet to learn (it's on June 20-21 and my dad will teach me until I get better)... I also scarfed down a big spicy bowl of ramen coz I didn't have breakfast this morning <3 Also, It's not rlly embarrassing for me to be writing fics while my parents r sitting at the back (I'm at my living room) but making the border??? Looking for pics of Leon??? It's embarassing for me 😭😭 My dad said that my Chris capcorom looks like a Bánh bò and ngl I kinda see it 😭😭 There's a Japanese mall where I live and I'll be going there tomorrow so hopefully yk there's a copy of any RE book or manga (PLEASEPLEASEPLE) Anyways, that's it and thank you for readings my fics!!!!!! I <33333 UUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The wavy divider was made by @kaitsawamura , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

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flowersdiceandlove · 1 day

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Just realized that the pick up line “did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?” Would both work SO WELL but also fail miserably for hualian. Like it could go multiple ways:

Hua Cheng being all flirty and trying to be smooth (successful): hey, gege, did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?

Xie Lian, oblivious: which time?

——

Hua Cheng being all flirty and trying to be smooth (successful): hey, gege, did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?

Xie Lian: yeah, it’s a pretty long fall. But, I’m fine, really. All healed 😊

Hua Cheng, freaking out and checking Xie Lian over: gege!! 😱

——

Xie Lian trying to flirt and be smooth (failing, but it’s hua cheng so he’s into it either way): San Lang, did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?

Hua Cheng: No. I didn’t fall, I jumped. How could I stay in heaven if my god was walking the earth?

Xie Lian, blushing profusely: San Lang!!!

——

Xie Lian trying to flirt and be smooth (failing, but it’s hua cheng so he’s into it either way): San Lang, did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?

Hua Cheng, staring lovingly at Xie Lian: gege’s my heaven, and he’s the one that caught me.

Xie Lian, equally besotted: San Lang…🥹

——

Hua Cheng, before Banyue Pass and still disguised as San Lang: gege, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

Xie Lian, shocked: San Lang knows even this!?!? He really is amazing! 😃 (see the first option for how this progresses)

——

Surprise beefleaf!!

Shi Qingxuan, flipping his hair and fluttering his eyelashes flirtatiously: Ming-Xiong, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

He Xuan disguised as Ming Yi, feeling pretty murderous over the question: …

Shi Qingxuan, oblivious to it: because you must be an angel 😘

He Xuan, reached his “Shi Qingxuan threshold for the day” and walking away: …

Shi Qingxuan: eh?! Ming-Xiong? Where are you going??

——

Lmao just looked up the actual pick up line and realized I remembered it wrong, so have some more 🤗🤗

Hua Cheng being all flirty and trying to be smooth (successful): hey, gege, did it hurt?

Xie Lian, not sure what incident he’s talking about: I have a high pain tolerance 😊

Hua Cheng: …

——

Surprise FengQing!!

Feng Xin: hey! Did it hurt!?

Mu Qing, annoyed, wondering what he wants: did what hurt?

Feng Xin: when you fell from heaven?

Mu Qing, drawing his saber: …is that a threat? 😡😡😡

Feng Xin, realizing he fucked it up: 😳😳😳

——

Jun Wu, trapped in Mount Tonglu: did it hurt?

Mei Nianqing, sitting to the side, reading a book, not even looking up: did what hurt?

Jun Wu: when you fell from heaven?

Mei Nianqing, flipping a page and still not bothering to spare him a glance: you’re the one that fell, my lord, not me.

#tgcf #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #hua cheng #xie lian #hualian #cheesy pick up lines #pick up lines #shi qingxuan #he xuan #beefleaf #incorrect tgcf quotes #tgcf incorrect quotes #feng xin #mu qing #fenqing #jun wu #mei nianqing #junmei

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anjelicawrites · 1 day

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What happened during the heathwave

Paring: Aegon II Targaryen x reader x Aemond Targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen x Aemond Targaryen (brief but implied as established)

Synopsis: your friends Baela and Rhaena invited you over to the family estate on Dragonstone for the summer, where you catch the eye of incestuous brothers Aegon II and Aemond, who make their move during an boiling hot afternoon.

Warnings: Targaryen incest (Aegon and Aemond have a established relationship), kissing, handjob, blowjob, balls kissing, overstimulation, orgasm denial, scratching, biting, titty sucking, spitroasting.

A/N: reader is AFAB but not described. Where needed they/them pronouns used

A/N 2: "Going to Oldtown" "Being Targtowered" and "Oldtown Tower" as subsitutes for "Going to Paris" and "Being Eiffel Towered" courtesy of @aemondsbabe (thank you for letting me use those!)

You arch your back with a filthy moan and a small part of your brain is still, stubbornly, wondering how all of this came to be: how Baela and Rhaena’s invite (“Come to Drangonstone with us! The whole family is going to be there!” “That’s better than languish home!”) evolved into this.

NSFW and 18+ only please!

You squirm when his long fingers tweak the nipple he’s been sucking intently, until you had cried out in pain, and tried to push away from their ravenous hunger for your body; where could you go? There was only one of you, smaller and already reduced into a puddle of screaming nerves, and two of them, big and strong, needy for your taste and curves.

“Ah! Gods please!” You cry out, trying to dislodge Aegon’s face from between your legs.

“Pay attention, riñītsos, little girl.” Aemond murmurs in your ear. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Aegon’s hands clasp the supple skin of your hips when you try to buckle upwards, almost breaking his nose with the strength of your movements; he’s been teasing you for hours, you think, his smart tongue licking your puffy clit, only to slither downwards to your clenching hole to fuck it, faster and faster, only to stop and start again when you almost reached your peak.

His brother hadn’t been idle, his beautiful lips had wound around your nipples to tease and suck, his teeth had bitten your delicate skin raw, following what, you’ll realize later, are the lines of your bathing suit bra.

Your torso turns painfully when you try to escape Aemond’s fingers and Aegon’s mouth, the overstimulation so severe when Aegon moans and groans against you, the vibration traveling up your spine like a whiplash that makes you scream in anguish.

Did you expect all of this when you met Baela and Rhaena’s cousins (or whatever flavor of family relation ties your friends to the siblings, in the maze that is the Targaryen’s family tree)? No, never, not when Aegon had offered you a drink as soon as you had arrived (“Weren’t you in rehab?” “That was a boring vacation, really”) or Aemond had been commenting on your reading choices (“Poetry for summer?” “Poetry is for all the seasons”), or even when you kept feeling their eyes on you, and your friends tried to shield you from their interest. But it’s summer and everyone is too focused on their complicated love lives to pull up a united front for you, when the brothers kept flanking you during those interminable group trips to hidden beaches, where you would shed your summer dresses in the safety of the group, and their gazes would be drawn to the conservative bathing suits you were wearing. Aegon’s would be more ravenous but never disrespectful, Aemond’s intense, even when he hid behind a thick book and a cigarette lazily dangling from his lips: even amidst everyone, you’d feel them staring, and your skin would burn, and not because of the sun.

Aegon’s lips latch to the soft skin of your tight and you beg, broken and needy for the orgasm he’s been denying you, your body covered in sweat and their spit, your hips sitting in a puddle of your own essence.

You’re burning and it’s not the unforgiving heath of the end of July.

“Best pussy I had in a while.” Aegon says, finally giving you respite from his hunger.

You try to catch your breath or kick him, the best you can do is letting your legs fall open, showing them the mess he’s left behind.

“Let me have a taste.” Aemond answers.

You’d expect him to take his brother’s place, not for them to kiss passionately, one of Aemond’s hands wounding in Aegon’s shorter hair as he lets his younger brother ravish him and pour all his sexual frustration into the kiss.

You almost come at the sight of their tongues battling and when you hear their moans of pleasure: have they always been like this? Does anyone besides you know? All questions fly out of the window when Aegon grabs his own base in the desperate attempt to stop himself from coming and Aemond doubles the passion he’s pouring in the kiss, chasing your taste in his brother’s slack mouth, until he lets go and focuses his only eye on your writhing body.

“Delicious.” He says and then licks his lips obscenely. “Let me have a second taste.”

They have kissed over you, Aegon still between your trembling legs and Aemond kneeling by your head, now he hovers over you with his reddened erection dangling over your parted lips and grabs your tights when you try to close them.

“I can’t let my older brother have all the fun, can I?” He purrs.

Your hips lift when his soft tongue starts playing with your abused clit and you try to squirm away again when his lips fasten around the puffy bud to suck slowly.

Aegon is staring at you with pupils so blown out that you can’t see the purple iris. You wail at him as his brother positions himself fully over you, never letting your poor clit go, sucking and licking leisurely, as if he has all the time in the world and you’re not crying and begging under him.

“Aemond! Please!” You cry out, desperate.

“Be good.” You hear coming from your right. “Aemond deserves a taste as well.”

“Shh, suck us off, beautiful, and then you’ll come.”

The small part of your brain that’s still working seems to realize only now how well endowed both brothers are, and that they will fuck you using their massive cocks. The slut part of your brain doesn’t care, ravenous your lips wound around Aegon’s cockhead to suck desperately the salty taste of his precome.

The position is awful on your neck, you can’t take him fully the way you want and your hands tremble too much to jack him properly. His taste though, heady and masculine, his girth takes your breath away when he lifts your head and feeds you more of his cock, until he pushes against the back of your throat and you choke on him, wanting more, needing more, frustrated by the knowledge that you’ll need more practice before you’ll be able to deepthroat him the way he deserves.

He doesn’t care, he grabs your head with both hands and uses your mouth to his leisure, fucking you hard and fast, in a heady contrast with the way Aemond is slowly sucking your poor clit.

“Ah, Gods!” Aegon groans when he releases your abused mouth. “No more, darling, your mouth is sinful but I want to come inside your pretty cunt."

You wail at that, hungry for him and your lips suck at his heavy balls until he has to dislodge your face with a pained moan.

He stares at your mouth, wet with spit and his precome, bitten raw and still hungry for more: you’re a gift from the Gods that he and Aemond aren’t going to waste.

“Here, suck him as well, he deserves the treat.”

Your wails are cut short by Aemond’s thick cock, fed to you by Aegon, who keeps one hand in your hair to control your movements, while he pushes his brother’s slim hips downwards, to your waiting mouth, until his cockhead hits your stretched tongue.

Aemond’s masculine taste drives you mad, any coherent thought flown out of the window as you grab his hips and try to swallow as much as you can, despite Aegon’s tight hold on your hair. Your neck hurts when you move up and down Aemond’s massive erection but you don’t care, you want to choke on him and Aegon lets you, with a satisfied smirk on his face, when he sees you falter as Aemond moans against your abused pussy, the shockwaves traveling up your spine destroying any control you have left and you let him fuck your mouth as his tongue sneaks inside your hole to ravage you there as well.

Aemond’s moans double when Aegon starts mouthing at his heavy balls and you’re hollowing your cheeks to offer him more friction. Around his stiff tongue your muscles clench and he almost comes imagining how fucking you would feel like: so soft and tight around his raging erection, warm beyond belief.

It’s an uncomfortable fit but he manages to push on your poor clit with his thumb as you buck wildly under him when he twists his tongue inside of you fast and hungry for you orgasm.

Under him you’ve lost any control on your body, your legs close around his head as you let your mouth be fucked raw, spit and precome sliding down your cheeks to the hollow of your throat.

You wail and cry when Aemond slips his cock from your mouth, the loss washed away by his moans against your overstimulated pussy; he’s drunk on your taste and wants more, he opens your lips to lodge himself better and fuck you deeper with his long tongue and you clench around him, pleasure burning through your body with every fast stoke, until you arch your back and explode on his tongue, your body trembling violently under his.

Both boys are ravenous for your taste now, their tongues on your cunt lick you clean and entwine to share your honey, their teeth mark the inside of your thighs with small bites that enhance the pleasure still coursing through your body, until you cry, fat tears of overstimulation and someone hugs you tight.

“Breathe now. You did so well.” Aemond murmurs in your ear. “Your mouth is a gift from the Gods.”

He doesn’t clean the mess of spit, precome and tears on your face and chest, he simply keeps you close to himself as Aegon plays with it, spreading the sticky mix all over your sweaty skin to keep your body in overdrive.

It’s not the first time both boys allude to the hometown of their mother’s side of the family, Aemond almost choking on his cigarette when you flatly told them you went once and that the Oldtown Tower wasn’t the experience you expected it to be; your muddled brain now starts to realize that, perhaps, it’s not a physical trip they’re talking about.

“I’m tired.” You whine, when Aegon’s fingers find your perked nipples.

“Wouldn’t you like to go to Oldtown with us?” He asks with a wicked glint in his purple eyes.

“Roll on your knees, issa dōna, my sweet. Like that, sȳz hāedar, good girl.” Aemond orders you and has to help you to get into position.

You feel the bed dip behind you and Aegon’s big hands land on your hips, their grip strong on the soft flesh.

“I promise you, love, that this Oldtown Tower will not disappoint. Are you ready to be Hightowered?”

You nod, eager to see what they have planned for you.

You feel his right hand leave the hold on your hips and his cockhead nudges at your wet entrance. You try to relax as much as you can, but he’s wide, wider than you ever had and it’s been a while since you had sex with anyone.

“Use your words, like a smart girl.” Aemond tells you, while sneaking a hand in your hair to force your upper body up.

“Take me to Oldtown, please? Whatever that means?” You ask with a small voice, a sliver of anxiety rearing its ugly head out of the blue.

“I promise you will like this.” Aegon’s warm lips find home on your nape to leave small kisses. “This is the best trip you could ever take.”

“So fucking tight.” He curses. “And wet, fuck yeah!”

His hips rock slowly against you, opening you up for the monstrosity he calls his cock. Even slick as you are after their ministrations, you feel the sting against your muscles and how hard he has to keep a tight rein on his libido, and you whine as his cock defiles your cunt and molds it for his pleasure, until his hips meet yours and you both groan in pleasure.

“Wait!” You wail, one hand reaching behind to blindly grab at him. “Please!”

You try to breathe and prepare yourself for the pounding you expect to receive, relaxing around his thick cock as much as you physically can.

Aemond’s hand cupping your chin is a surprise, so is the way he caresses your lower lip, swollen and wet with a mixture of spit and precome, until you suck his thumb in.

“Open wider, sȳz hāedar, like that.” He orders with a soft voice.

You understand what they meant: ‘going to Oldtown’, ‘Hightowered’ and ‘Oldtown Tower’. Suddenly Aemond choking on the smoke when you said you didn't like the trip you had taken eons ago makes more sense.

You look into his lonely eye, the purple eclipsed by the enlarged pupil, the dimples of his smile almost masking the naked hunger in his beautiful, scarred face.

He doesn't have to tell you more, you open your mouth and loll your tongue out, waiting patiently for his next move.

You both moan when his cockhead touches your tongue and you start licking and sucking, slowly taking more and more of him. Almost on cue, Aegon grabs your hips firmly and grinds against you, forcing a moan out of you that has Aemond groan and kick his cock inside your waiting mouth.

You don't know if someone can hear you three, you don't care that the whole estate is asleep, trying to beat the afternoon heatwave, all that matters are the boys taking you within an inch of your life: Aegon’s cock pounding your battered insides hard and fast, his hand randomly connecting to your arse cheeks when you tighten around him, and Aemond's cock fucking your mouth with abandon, a smirk in his face as soon as he sees how frustrated you are when you can't swallow him whole.

You cross your wrists on your back and the show of submission has the boys fuck you wild and fast, with filthy word of appreciation for your tight cunt and talented mouth.

You cough and let spit fall from your mouth when Aegon’s pushes become brutal, impaling you on his cock and his brother's, your G spot battered constantly by his bulbous head. On instinct your body tightens and twists, chasing and running away from the pleasure that's destroying you. Your cunt tightens without your control with every push and Aegon has to fuck you faster, opening you up for his cock. You moan around Aemond and try to take more of his big cock, choking on the girthy length with whines that travel up his spine and shatter his control.

You beg and cry when Aemond slips his cock away from mouth and curls a hand around his base: you’re sinful and delicious, you deserve his seed in your cunt.

With a hand on your nape Aegon pulls you up and bounces your lax body on his cock, hard and fast pushes that make you scream and cry, pleasure zinging up your spine that redoubles when Aemond's fingers find your clit, to pinch it as his lips slant on yours, stealing your screams.

You're a ragdoll between their bodies, your nerves screaming with the pleasure forced on you, open and raw to their dual assault you feel the pressure build and build in your belly, until you come, squeezing Aegon so tight he spills with a shout inside of you as he keeps riding his high inside of you, until you both fall on the bed.

You feel a mix of fluids seeping out of your overused hole, your combined comes staining your tights and mixing with the rivulet of sweat on your skin.

You feel empty and alone, on instinct you curl with your back against Aegon’s front, seeking his warmth; you don't expect the sleepy way he nuzzles your neck and leaves kisses all over the burning skin. He's sated, for now, the smell of sex from your body lulling him into relaxation; he groans unhappily when Aemond takes you from his embrace and lays you on the bed.

You are a sight to behold, open and used, warm and wet with your come and Aegon’s; you stare at Aemond with pleading eyes, drunk on pleasure already and hungry for him as well, whose cock stands tall and proud, small beads of precome on the red tip.

“Slow, Aemond please?” You beg with a broken voice.

Your cunt is so sore already, you can't take another hard fucking like the one Aegon just gave you.

“Yes, dārilaros, princess, I want to enjoy you.”

With unhurried hands, Aemond helps your legs around his trim waist and covers your body with his, the golden pendant he wears is up your face now, the skull with sapphire eyes dangling over your parted lips.

You can't escape his piercing gaze, the way he absorbs every small expression you make with a soft humming sound, as if he's studying you to learn how to play your body for later use.

Slowly, Aemond kisses you, waiting patiently for your lips to part, only then he deepens the kiss with a long moan, when he breaches you slowly.

If he had to follow his instincts, Aemond would take you fast and raw, desperate as he is to satiate his hunger, yet he keeps a strict control over himself: he's seen how hard Aegon had gone, he can't risk harming you. Your response is beautiful, the way your body sucks him in takes his breath away and your back arches when he starts pushing and pulling to make way for his cock to own you completely.

The whine he hides against the side of your neck has you curl your legs around his waist: he's so deep inside of you, you want to keep him there, warm and thick, forever.

When he starts to move, gentle figures of eight, you arch under him, one hand raking down his long back, the other shooting out to grab the bedsheets; you’re surprised when Aegon's big palm curls around yours and his lips leave small kisses on your knuckles and wrist.

“Look at me.” Aemond orders.

Your eyes snap open to bore into his, his long hair curtain your bodies, as if it's only the two of you in the whole world and he hasn't already fucked you with the aid of his older brother.

His hips move with longer strokes now that you’ve relaxed around him, he reaches deeper inside of you, in no hurry to chase his own end, mesmerized by the way your face scrunches with pleasure, wet with tears and spit.

“Aemond.” You moan.

“I'm here, let go.”

You feel him everywhere, his strokes filling you, opening you to his ownership, the pleasure like a fire that builds with every passing second. Your free hand scratches down his back when he grinds against your G spot, dead on and relentless he forces your hole to curl and curl, whined sobs escape your lips and Aegon is there to kiss your face, consoling you during your onslaught.

Your body is trapped under Aemond's, your hole invaded and so, so full it almost hurts with the way Aemond takes you: you feel every inch of him against yourself, your body arches under his but you have nowhere to go, your lips wound around the pendant to snuff your moans, to save your sanity. Your legs kick uselessly when he picks up speed and grinds faster, his lips and his brother's on yours, in a kiss that steals your breath away and keeps you focused on the burning of your nerves.

The more the pleasure ebbs, the deeper are your scratches against his back; you twist under his weight when you feel the familiar band tighten in your belly. You whine about how scared you are, you can't take another one please! And both boys are there, encouraging you to fall into the abyss again, praising your body, until you come.

You black out and barely feel Aemond push again and again, until he explodes inside of you, only to keep riding his own pleasure with an animalistic groan, stopping only when it hurts to continue.

You're so warm when you come back to yourself, having both boys laying partially on your chest and tummy. They're both lazily smoking and kissing your tacky skin, unhurried in their own post orgasmic daze and drunk on the smell of sex saturating the air.

With a shaky hand you steal someone’s cigarette for a quick drag: you needed that!

“You can always ask.”

Oh, you’ve stolen from Aegon.

With that, he rolls to your bedside table where his crumpled pack lays (when did it get there?) and he takes another one. Smirking he leans close to your face and grabs your hand to use your cigarette to light his up; it’s a simple action that has your insides tingle with want, the soreness between your legs notwithstanding.

“I don’t smoke.” You say, giving him back the cigarette.

“Keep it. You look hot when you do.”

A companionable silence falls between your three, broken only by the sound of your three smoking; you’re not sure of what you’re supposed to do. You didn’t think about an after, when the boys emerged from the shadows of the corridor that lead to your room and had silently followed you; you knew what was going to happen, if you welcomed them inside, no siesta like the rest of the sprawling mansion, no idle chat and flirting the way you did since you arrived to Dragonstone, no, sex instead, heated and mindblowing, until you were too tired to stay awake, then what?

The answer to your question comes in the form of Aemond, who picks the finished cigarette from your fingers and kills it in the ashtray that’s appeared on the other bedside table (from where? Are the boy magicians as well?).

You know you desperately need one, your body is covered in sweat and fluids, but you’re tired now, you want to sleep until the end of time; with whatever little strength you can muster, you turn on your tummy and hide your head under a pillow

“We need a shower.” He says.

“Noooo.” You whine.

His body hovers over yours, his face somewhere near your exposed neck.

“Come on, be good. Don’t make me drag you.” Adds Aegon, with a swift pat on your arse.

“Ow! You would never!”

“Do you wanna bank on that?”

The lovebite he leaves on your skin is playful and, if they hadn’t fucked you the way they did, it would have made you straddle him until he begged for mercy.

Aemond’s big hands grab your lax body and he lifts you against his sturdy chest, you shriek and hold to his neck, afraid he might lose his hold on you.

“Come on boys! I can’t walk!”

“That’s not an issue.”

You elect to ignore the bickering between the brothers and hide your face in the long curve of Aemond’s neck. With your teeth you nibble the golden chain, warmed by his skin, and kiss the small moles you can reach. The low rumble of Aemond’s humming courses through your body and again, if you weren’t so sore, you’d have him until he couldn’t come anymore.

“Start the shower.” He says, adjusting your position to make sure he’s not letting you fall.

“I always have to do all the work here!”

“Stop bitching and do something!”

Your legs wobble dangerously when Aemond deposits you in the ridiculous big shower. The first time you used it, you weren’t even sure which button to push and, if you have to be sincere, you are still unsure of what half of those are for.

Both boys join you under the warm spray, their bodies keeping you up when your legs threaten to fold, Aemond in front of you, Aegon behind.

Honest to the Gods, Aemond shudders in disgust.

“Why do you need all those hair products?” He asks, when he tries to find your shampoo.

“Because, unlike you, dear brother, they care about their hair. Give it here.”

“Five bottles?”

“It’s the bare minimum for summer.” You inject yourself in the conversation

“I only need one.”

You can feel the beginning of an erection poking your arse, and you wiggle against him.

“You’re so lucky, Aegon. Why do guys need beautiful hair and long eyelashes?” You whine.

“To be pretty for nice little things like you.” He answers, plastering his body against yours.

“Careful, you look very fuckable, all wet and naked.” He says, popping his chin on your shoulder.

It’s surprising how at ease you feel with them, with your past partners you had always felt uncomfortable at showing yourself naked, with them it comes like an afterthought: it’s so liberating and you’ll forever be grateful for that.

Aemond coaxes your head backwards and starts massaging your scalp with your nice smelling shampoo while Aegon squirts too much body wash on his hands to clean the mess on your body; you’re not sure your breasts need that much attention though, not that your are complaining, you feel your whole body relax in their care and if Aegon wants to play with your tits, who are you to stop him?

Once he’s done with your conditioner, Aemond grabs your loofah and gently cleans between your legs; you shudder in pain when he starts with your pussy, you’re still so sore!

“I know, gevie, beautiful, I know it hurts, but I need to be thorough.”

He’s mindful of your clit when he cleans up your hole and outer lips, only to refocus on your legs and arse, until he’s sure no leftover fluid is staining your skin.

You help them wash off as well, your hands are still shaking on the firm muscles and white skin, their fingers are soft and caring on one another, caressing you as well, until they are hard again.

You let your fingers wander until you meet their erections and they both take a gulp of air, before crowding against your body. You feel suddenly shy and hide your face against Aemond’s neck as you move over their cocks slowly, feeling the steel under the soft skin.

A shudder courses through you when they move to kiss your chest and breasts, soft and gentle they worship your body and drink down your moans: you’re a sorceress, the first they had taken without having their thirsts quenched by mindless sex.

Aemond comes first, with a long moan against your breast, Aegon grabs your hip to maintain his balance when his orgasm hits; you keep a loose hold around their cocks as they ride out the high and praise them with a soft voice.

You three stumble out of the shower and the boys are quick to grab the big towels to dry you, and themselves, their hands lingering on your breasts and arse a tad too long, sending shivers down your body.

The bed looks like a battlefield and you shriek when you see the wet mess you three have made of the sheets, and the marks on your skin you will never be able to hide.

They’re still both naked and now it feels strange to be dressed, after what you let them do to you.

“That’s what housekeeping is for, darling.” Aegon says with a wink.

“You look pretty in blue.” Aemond adds, when he sees the bathing suit you’ve picked for the afternoon.

“Thank you.” You answer, suddenly shy.

He’s standing in front of you, naked and proud, and you wish you weren’t this sore, to have him, to have both of them again.

“You’re prettier naked.”

“Aegon!” You shriek.

“Just stating the truth.”

Almost reading your mind, the brothers hug you, their naked bodies against yours, wet hair leaving tears of water on your heathed skin.

Ewanverse taglist: @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @zaldritzosrose

“You should take today easy.” Aemond tells you with hunger in his voice, his sharp chin on your shoulder. “Recuperate.”

“What for?” You try to keep the tremble in yours under control.

“Because once is not enough.” Aegon murmurs against your lips. “A body like yours needs to be worshiped properly.”

“And for as long as it is needed.” Concludes Aemond.

Tagging also @aemondtargaryenonlyfans who asked to be tagged in this one.

#aegon ii targaryen x y/n x aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x reader x aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x y/n #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegond x reader #aegond x y/n

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cherry-romper · 2 days

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Days off with them

+ Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Marco, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Levi, Erwin, Hange, Reiner, Bertholdt, Annie, Porco, Pieck, Zeke

Eren; Staying Behind

You and Eren had been assigned cleaning duty that morning - even though it was supposed to be your day off.

Eren listened to you while you ranted and raved about how you shouldn't be doing it and should be allowed to be free for the day.

You'd both been invited to the market with Sasha and Co. but the Eren said he didn't fancy it.

You silently thanked Eren, because you, too, didn't want to go to the market.

The two of you then spent the day sparring together and messing around.

Mikasa; Hanging out

You'd gone camping the night prior to your day off. Your camp consisted of the top ten in the cadets and a few others, such as yourself and Armin.

You'd shared a tent with Sasha and Mikasa, so the three of you all woke up around the same time.

Sasha was excited to go hunting so she left just you and Mikasa to decide what to do for the day.

It was Mikasa who asked if you wanted to spend the day with her, much to your surprise.

Armin; Library

The two of you met, coincidentally, in the library. You'd been looking for a book all morning and couldn't find it anywhere.

As it turns out, Armin had already checked that book out, although he hadn't read it yet.

He told you his plans for the day; to read under a tree until sundown, then go home and read some more.

Since he had the book you wanted, you proposed you tag along with him, and read the book you wanted together.

Marco; Lazy Day

You weren't used to having time to yourself. So, when the time came to relaxing you weren't sure what to do with yourself.

Like most soldiers you slept in, but this made you miss breakfast.

You soon learned that Marco had been waiting for you all morning in the mess hall.

He brought breakfast to your room and helped you adjust to the free time.

You ended up being overwhelmed from actually being able the think for once. Marco stayed with you, per your request, and comforted you the entire day.

Jean; Market

Jean's love language is quality time (among others), so on days off he often waits for his friends to suggest something and just tags along.

He's down for anything as long as he's with the people he loves, especially you.

He also loves doing things, he's not one to just sit around and talk, he like to be actively doing something. i.e. walking around, cleaning, working out. He doesn't mind what he's doing, as long as he's not doing it alone.

He LOVES the marketplace. He finds comfort in the ambience of the bustling people.

Connie; Visiting Family

Any excuse to go home, and Connie is there.

Recently though, he's been torn between savouring the time with his friends or visiting his family again.

Either way he might not see any of them again, so he often acts out of impulse on the day.

So, being the genius he is, he drags you along to visit his family with him.

Sasha; Hunting

She offered to teach you how to hunt, telling you it was an essential life tool.

You listened to her intently, being sure to mimic her movements precisely.

Still when it came to killing a small bunny, you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

She found it so heart warming that you couldn't kill the innocent, contrary to the way you were on a battlefield.

Levi; Tea Shop

Days off for the Scout's faculty don't really exist, most live by the "I'll sleep when I'm dead" motto – especially Levi

Still, you had convinced him to tackle his ever-growing pile of paperwork in a small tea shop in the market.

It didn't last long, he hated how many people came in and out of the shop, no work was completed.

Instead, the two of you peacefully people watched soaking up each other's company

Hange; Experiments

As per, Hange could be found hunched over their notes, frothing at the mouth thinking about the breakthroughs they could make.

They insisted you work with them to come up with new theories.

You were smart and they respected that, plus you had a similar passion as them – less to do with titans and more to do with finding out the truth.

It wasn't how you'd wanted to sped your day off, but seeing Hange light up when you'd theorise with them made it worth it.

Erwin; Working

What else would this man be doing? He was more likely to work himself into a grave than he was to die in combat.

Still, he didn't often get time to simply hang out with his comrades. So, he got up early, working himself to the bone to get his paperwork done at record pace, simply so he could spend a blissful summers evening in your company.

Reiner; Napping

It wasn't his intention, nor yours, to fall asleep in the pasture.

You had been cloud watching, trying your hardest to take your minds off the horrors that played on repeat.

You brought each other so much comfort that it was almost impossible to not feel tired around each other.

It was jean who found you two, tangled together in the field. He NEVER let you two live it down.

Bertholdt; Market

Everyone had suggested it, but neither of you wanted to go. Still, come 7 am, you found yourself in the back of a cart and on your way to the market.

Somewhere throughout the day you had lost everyone, leaving the two of you alone together, to wander the stalls.

Bert felt rather homesick, seeing all the shops gave him a horrid nostalgia. You'd taken notice of his hesitation and hooked your arm with his, trying to offer his as much comfort as possible.

He was taken aback sure, but your touch helped him more than he thought it could. To be honest, it scared him a little.

Annie; Hanging out

Absolutely, not in the mood to do anything, ever. She just wants to get her mission over with, she has no real reason to do anything or make friends.

Still, she's grateful that you, along with some others, still try to spend time with her.

Even so, she spends the day in her room but not without inviting you to come sit with her.

Porco; Beach Walk

You had decided to travel along the coast for your day out, desperate to get away from the busy city.

Was it an authorised absence? Not at all. And somehow you managed to convince Porco to come with you.

You didn't tell him that you 'technically' weren't allowed to be leaving Liberio, when he find out he tried to convince you to go back, scared of the repercussions.

However, after seeing you so happy to be on the beach, he decided the consequences would be worth it, given neither of you had long left to live.

Pieck; Hanging out

Still not used to her legs, Pieck had asked you to stay with her while she caught up on her books.

She'd been wanting to read them when she got back from Paradis, so to do so in your company was more than she could have hoped for.

Though, she often found herself getting distracted by you, who sat next to her, head bobbing as you feel asleep reading your own book.

Zeke; Hanging Out

Simply put, he took you on a walk around Liberio.

He kept you close the whole time, being sure you were safe, talking about everything and nothing.

He was content with just being.

Even for just a moment, if he could exist alongside you, everything he'd done would have been worth it.

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gravedigginbbydoll · 3 days

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An Extra Step

Eddie Munson x Bilingual! GN Reader

AN: Heyo! So, I was randomly inspired to write this little blurb. I'm sorry for being AWOL so much, grad school has been kicking my ass. I promise to update my current WIPs as soon as I can. Anyways, this is based on myself being bilingual :) In the blue text is when the other language is spoken. I kept it vague and not specific so that other people who may be bilingual or have English as a second language could relate.

CW: mentions of food, mentions of family, mentions of childhood, no gender mentioned, pet names, kissing, emotional, fluffy

It started as a tiny thing, a little nudge from deep within. It was a warm summer day in Hawkins, you and Eddie relaxing in the trailer. Wayne had given you two your own trailer (right next to him, of course), and you had a jar on the table, coins and dollar bills stacked up in it, determined to get your own place one day together. Preferably a house or apartment, but that was a worry for later. You and Eddie were lounging about, you perched at the kitchen while Eddie was sprawled out on the sofa, attempting to cool off. You leaned against the counter, reading a postcard you’d received from a family member. You giggled at the message they wrote, peaking Eddie’s interest. He smiled, turning to you, sitting up a bit.

“What’s so funny, babe?,” He asked, cocking his head in that golden retriever way, his eyes curious.

You bit your lip, unsure how to explain. “Uh well… my cousin wrote me a postcard,” You explained, shrugging.

Eddie walked over, looking over your shoulder at the note before he deflated a litte. “Oh. It’s not in English,” He stated, a bit disappointed.

You nodded, biting your lip, thinking. You explained the joke briefly, giggling while doing so, but Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed and you felt your heart sink a bit.

You never told Eddie, but sometimes you felt like you lost yourself little by little without your first language. Jokes translated incorrectly, you were unable to express certain things in English, and you felt like a part of yourself was dimmed. You wished Eddie could understand your family and even your own moments of frustration, when that little piece of you slipped out, only for him to look a bit confused.

You shook your head, smiling awkwardly, and putting up the letter. “Nevermind…It’s not as funny in English.” You put up the card, taking Eddie’s hand over to the couch. “C’mon. Let’s watch a movie.”

Eddie could see the pain in your eyes when he didn’t understand your native tongue. He felt his heart squeeze each time, cursing himself for not learning it the moment he learned you had another piece to your puzzle.

Which was what prompted the secret research.

Fuck, Eddie had never even studied for school exams this hard.

He started his search at the library, asking around and trying to see if there were any classes nearby. He learned there were some lessons and books around, though they had to be ordered and the meetings were three towns over. But anything to see you smile.

Eddie poured over the books, kept a secret journal with all his notes from the clubs he attended (which truly were just people who spoke the language getting together to talk and exchange snacks, some of the older ladies pinching Eddie’s cheeks and smiling over at him.).

He knew you were suspicious, consistently glancing over at him confused when he would show up from the meeting late in the night, lying to say it was extra work hours.

He poured over cassettes you had in your native tongue when you weren't home, learning the lyrics to your favorite songs.

Hell, he even began trying to think in the language. (Easier said than done, he had no idea how you balanced the two)

But it was all worth it for that night.

Eddie had taken the day off, gone to the international grocery store that was miles away, only to drive back, and begin prepping. He was making a meal he remembered you saying you missed, something near and dear to your heart and childhood. He knew it would take a bit of prep work and sweat, but Eddie was willing.

He grinned to himself, heart swelling with pride.

He couldn’t wait.

When you walked through the door that night, you felt your heart stop. Familiar smells that you hadn’t smelled in years floated through the kitchen, your heart racing. You heard Eddie singing along softly in the kitchen, your native tongue clumsy on his lips, but making your heart swell, your eyes water a bit.

“E-Eddie? What’s all this?,” You asked cautiously, eyebrows furrowed, eyes watering and blurring your vision.

“It’s your favorite…I figured you deserved a treat!,” He replied…in your language. It was clumsy, the pronunciation not perfect. But your breath caught nonetheless.

“You did all this…for me?,” You whispered, clutching tightly at your heart as tears rolled down your cheeks.

Eddie smiled softly, walking over, softly running a finger under your chin to look up at him. “Of course. I love you,” He whispered back, his voice thick with emotion.

Tears streamed down your face, vision blurred as you threw your arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder, your heart overflowing with emotions, your hands clutching at him. You whispered ‘I love you’ over and over, sobs racking your shoulders as Eddie held you, rubbing your back, kissing the top of your head. It meant the world to finally hear those words in your tongue and being able to whisper it back.

That night was filled with warm and full bellies, laughter and leading Eddie through pronunciation, learning of his secret little escapades (So that’s why he hadn’t been as hungry! Those little grandmas were stuffing him with food…) and showering Eddie with kisses.

Never in your life had you felt so seen and loved.

Eddie Munson was it for you.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #stranger things 4 #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x immigrant #eddie munson x bilingual!reader #eddie munson x immigrant!reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb

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nanowrimo · 1 day

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Smash Your Word Count Goals in 3 Easy Steps

from our sponsors at Freewrite

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The psychology of goal setting is pretty clear. It’s what NaNoWriMo is all about, right? Research has proven that people who set goals experience higher motivation and are more likely to feel accomplished.

However, the type of goal you set makes a big difference to your efforts. Make sure that your goals are (a) clear and specific, (b) realistic, and (c) measurable.

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2) Practice Freewriting

Freewriting is thinking. It’s as simple — and as difficult — as that.

While every writer is unique, and there is no one way to be a writer, there are similarities we all share as humans — especially humans in the modern world — that create common obstacles to doing the things we love — like reading, writing, and yes, thinking. There are the obvious external obstacles: social media, email, the internet. But there are sneaky internal obstacles, too — the main culprit being the inner critic.

As humans, we are judgmental. It’s in our DNA. Our brains are constantly assessing situations, imagining outcomes, and making decisions. It’s part of survival at a very basic level. However, that means that when we do anything, including writing, we tend to automatically assess our actions — judging our own words, tweaking and editing them as we go along. That constant evaluation not only hinders progress, it can also stop us from ever getting started. And if we do manage to sit down to write, that inner critic creates an unconscious anxiety that prevents us from experimenting and writing down our most innovative and creative — and weird! — ideas.

We’ve all heard the advice to “write now, edit later.” Or perhaps you’ve heard writers reference “the sloppy/crappy/messy first draft.” Those are just fun ways of referencing the writing method in which you separate the drafting process from the editing process. Or, what we call freewriting.

Many people haven’t written this freely since childhood, but there’s a reason this method is taught in MFA programs. Getting your thoughts down first and revising later increases productivity and yields better, more creative work because it allows you to give your brain fully to each task. It means that when you’re drafting, you’re drafting, and when you’re editing, you’re editing. There’s no context-switching or multitasking.

So, what if you gave yourself permission to write badly at first? And we don’t just mean cheesy or with glaring plot holes — we mean typos, missing words, character names replaced by big Xs because you couldn’t remember them in the moment.

The next time you draft, we challenge you to give it a try. Just let yourself go and give your thoughts and feelings over to the act of creating. Because that’s when the magic happens.

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galacticseonghwa · 3 days

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faster n harder - Lee Jeno (chapter one)

INCLUDES: biker!jeno x fem!reader, slow burn, enemies to lovers (they don't really get along at first not so much that they're enemies), fluff, smut, angst(?), fingering, choking, degrading (slut, whore, etc.), pet names (doll, baby, etc.), cockwarming, lmk if i’ve missed anything! wc: 1.9k a/n: this chapter is fairly rushed and has some VERY cliche scenes in it, so if you have high expectations for this story, please lower the bar to the ground lol. I'm not a very strong writer and it shows here, but please if you do decide to read anyway, don't be scared to leave any feedback <3

truth be told jeno never found himself the type of guy to fall in love with a girl who had absolutely no interest in him whatsoever, or even feel anything for anyone that wasn’t his bike. at least not until you had come around.

he has always been about the bike life, the dark aesthetic type that book girlies love. that was his hidden weapon, in his words at least. tattoos covering several inches of his skin, sharp eyes rimmed with eyeliner peeking through his open visor, all-black kawasaki he paid way too much for and can’t forget about his arms. toned, tanned with those veins that are too hard not to stare at.

but you didn’t spare him a second glance, that was new for him and he liked that. he liked that you weren’t throwing yourself at him, like all of the other girls he had come across. but once he found out you were into cars and bikes, man he may as well have just fallen in love with you right then and there. which he unintentionally did.

he would watch you from his bike as you pulled up to the university campus in either your car or bike. you knew he was watching, everyone knew. but that didn’t waver you, you had your three friends that was all you needed. having jeno’s eyes on you ultimately ended up in teases from your best friends.

“oooh, he’s into you best friend.” mark would giggle as he watched you roll your eyes dramatically while shotaro and felip laughed along with him. “whatever” you would grumble and just push past him and to your next class.

you weren’t planning on getting involved with jeno let alone his friends until you and felip noticed one of jeno’s friends had the same bike as the both of you. felip dragged you over to the owner of the bike with the biggest smile on his face.

“you have the same bike as us!” felip says to a brown-haired haechan who was sitting on his white suzuki gsx r600. haechan raises his eyebrow in both question and confusion. felip notices how out of place haechan’s white bike is compared to all the black bikes surrounding him.

“i’m felip by the way,” he says happily and holds his hand out for haechan. haechan smiles back and shakes felip’s hand. “oh, this is y/n” your best friend points over at you as you stand awkwardly behind him as you feel all the eyes of jeno and his friends on you.

“oh i know who she is.” haechan smirks as he looks over at you. “i’m haechan.” he says and ushers his friends to introduce themselves too.

“chenle” a guy with pink in his hair all but spits out coldly as he turns up his face at you and felip. “calm it.” haechan snips and smacks chenle’s arm, chenle pouts angrily and rubs his arm.

“i’m lee jeno” the last one tilts his head as he watches you with a smirk on his lips. you side eye him and turn back to haechan without sparing jeno a second glance. jeno raises his eyebrows and laughs softly at this.

felip starts up a conversation with haechan about his bike asking all sorts of questions. “where are you guys parked at?” haechan asks as he turns to chenle briefly. felip points out where your bikes are just as shotaro and mark pull up next to your bikes as well.

“you got a gang already?” jeno asks, his eyes never leaving your face as you pull your phone out with a waiting call from shotaro. “yeah, but we’re always looking for more people to join.” felip shrugs and waves at mark.

mark and shotaro were now walking towards you and the guys with their helmets in their hands. “wanna join us? it’s only the three of us.” haechan offers while chenle scoffs and drops down from his bike.

snatching up his helmet, chenle stomps away but not forgetting to smack his shoulder into you as he walks past. “ouch” you mumble and rub your arm to try to ease the pain chenle left behind. “i know it’ll be hard to, but ignore him. he’s not good with new people.” haechan offers you a sympathetic smile.

“clearly” felip scoffs and turns to you with a frown. “you okay?” he asks softly. you nod up at felip. “this is mark and shotaro.” felip points at both boys he named then turns back to haechan. “and this is haechan and jeno. the one that just practically abused y/n is chenle.” felip points at haechan and jeno.

“oh that loud ass kid from your music class?” shotaro asks mark innocently. mark seems to think for a couple of seconds before nodding. “i think so.” mark mumbles. upon hearing this jeno and haechan both laugh a little at the fact that shotaro and mark know chenle as the loudmouth he usually is.

haechan stares at mark with a smile before turning back to you and felip. “us three are going on a ride after class, would you guys like to join?” haechan offers as he gets off his bike, wedging his helmet between his left arm and hip, while slinging his backpack on his right shoulder.

you notice jeno doing the same from the corner of your eye, but see that he’s already got his body cross bag on and his helmet grasped in his right hand. jeno looks down to the helmet that was gripped in both your hands in front of you, he smirks seeing as it is the same helmet as his.

“i’m down, what about you guys?” felip smiles and turns to you and the other two guys who were pretending to fight behind you. “yeah, why not?” mark shrugs, shotaro throws felip a thumbs up with the hand that wasn’t holding his helmet.

felip opens his mouth to speak only to be cut off by jeno, who steps right in front of you. “what about you y/n? will you come?” jeno leans down to look into your eyes better. you flinch at the sudden intrusion of your personal space. “the fuck?” you mumble under your breath.

“if you get the fuck outta my face i’ll consider saying yes.” you scoff earning a chuckle from jeno and a full-blown laugh from haechan. “she’s not very good with new people in her space like that.” mark says from behind you, pushing at jeno’s chest as he stands behind you.

jeno stares at you for a couple of seconds before backing up with a smirk. “weird fuck.” you mumble to mark as you turn around and head towards your first class, which unfortunately for you had only jeno, chenle and haechan in.

you and the three guys make it to class just in time for the bell. beginning your walk to your usual seat you’re thrown off when you feel someone pull you into one of the isles by your elbow. “you’re one of us now, therefore you sit with us.” haechan says in a tone you can only pin as teasing.

“what? nah she’s not one of us!” chenle almost yells, you cringe at how high his voice went. “i agree with barney, i’m not one of you.” you scoff and begin walking away again.

haechan rolls his eyes drastically as he reaches out and grabs your arm again. “fine, not one of us. but sit with us.” haechan gestures to the empty seat between himself and chenle. you roll your eyes and sit down anyways. “call me barney again, and you’ll be picking yourself and your bike up off the fucking road, you prune.” chenle spits at you and shoves your chair away from him.

the push sends you almost flying into haechan. “chenle. stop it.” haechan seethes through gritted teeth just as he catches your chair right before it smashes into his. chenle does nothing but roll his eyes. “i’m sorry, he’s not usually this mean.” haechan looks down at you almost sadly, making you raise your eyebrow.

“it’s okay, i’m just glad he’s not hitting me.” you try to joke, but haechan doesn’t take it that way as he stares at you with a straight face. “i’m sorry.” you whisper.

as the class drones on for what felt like seventeen years, you somehow got chenle talking and laughing with you. after your multiple attempts to talk to him, he finally gave in and started talking to you, only for him to somehow really like you.

“hey, i’m sorry for how i treated you before.” chenle mumbles softly and looks up at you with a sad pout and shining eyes. you find it hard to ignore the smile pulling at your lips as you look down at him.

“it’s okay, you just left quite the impression.” you giggle. unbeknownst to you, chenle and a blissfully unaware haechan, jeno had been staring at you the whole class without any shame, a few of the girls who ogle over him noticed this and didn’t like the fact that a girl who wasn’t ‘visible’ before today had snagged a spot in the most popular friend group at this university.

jeno feels the girls stare on him and turns around to see half of them with their eyes on him and the other half glaring at you. jeno tilts his head and waits for them all to look at him before opening his mouth. “i know what you girls are about, so if you so much as breathe the wrong way in her direction you’ll have to deal with not only my group, but hers too,” jeno pauses, chenle frowns as he hears jeno speaking and turns to see what was happening.

chenle stops a laugh from escaping as he watches the scene unfold. “and i’m sure none of you wants mark and taro after you or felip speaking to you. do you?” he asks condescendingly. seeing all the girls shake their heads as fast as they could, chenle burst out into a fit of laughter.

the bell rings for the end of class, thanking the school for letting this be your only class today you begin walking to the exit where you can see shotaro jumping up and down while waving at you.

you giggle happily and run towards him, engulfing him in a hug when you see him waiting for you with open arms. the girls who were glaring at you had followed behind you to see if jeno was telling the truth about who you were friends with, only for jeno, chenle and haechan to push past them and stand behind you.

jeno looks over his shoulder at the girls and raises his eyebrow as if to challenge them to try something. while a couple of the girls were satisfied with seeing jeno telling the truth a couple of them still didn’t like the fact that you somehow got into jeno’s group before they could.

the girl who seemed to be the ‘leader’ of the group stomps her foot and stomps away. jeno rolls his eyes, to him all the girls at this uni were all the same. that was until he pinned you down a couple of months ago.

don’t get him wrong, he’d noticed your beauty from several miles away two years ago but it wasn’t until you rode to school on your old ninja h2r that he finally noticed you properly. It was almost like love at first sight despite it not being the first time he had laid eyes on you.

love at second sight, he liked to call it.

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this fic will be very generic for the first couple of chapters as i don't want to dive straight into the story so please bear with me, it'll get better.

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phoward89 · 3 days

Text

Obsessed!Coriolanus Snow x Innocent!Reader, Obsessed!Crassus Snow x Innocent!Reader, DILF!Crassus Snow

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Cussing, obsession, smut, oral (f rec) , p in v, older man/younger woman, father & son both want the same girl, reader is just too sweet for this world and has no idea that the men in the Snow family are toxic...

This is the Crassus x Reader ending AKA ending 2.

It's kinda long.

Masterlist

Ending #2-Crassus

Coriolanus disappeared without a trace. Or at least that's what it felt like. Truth was, a couple of weeks after graduation he boarded a train to 8 as a peacekeeper grunt. Coriolanus received a conscription letter and was shoved off by his father General Crassus Snow.

Against his will.

Without Coriolanus by your side you fell into a depression. Yes, you received letters from him and the occasional phone call, but it wasn't the same. He wasn't physically around, like he's always been, and it hurt.

It hurt so much.

So goddamn much.

You felt so alone…

You thought that you were doing good job of hiding your hurt, your depression and loneliness. But you weren't.

No.

Crassus noticed it right away.

And he tried to swoop in and put a smile on your face by asking about your day or by suggesting you read a certain book in the library, but it never worked. Nothing worked to put a smile on your face.

The only time a faint smile appeared on your face was whenever Crassus handed you a letter from his son while shifting thru the mail after coming home from work. You'd always snatch it from him with a smile on your face. One that never quite reached your eyes.

You cherished Coryo's letters. He always complained about District 8 in them, but he’d also write a few lines about his feelings towards you. Always told you to wait for him; that he'd figure out a way to return to you.

Crassus, as cold and unfeeling of a man as he was, never kept his son's letters from you despite the fact that the middle-aged man wanted you as his next wife. His future First Lady. And why didn't he keep them from you?

Because he wanted to woo you away from his son’s affections. Crassus wanted the knowledge that he pursued you, courted you, and gave you somebody to confide in all the while Coriolanus was sending you letters that were borderline love letters.

Crassus wants you to pick him over his son, not because he made you, but because you want to.

Because you want him.

And having Coriolanus thousands of miles away serving in 8 would definitely help out with you picking the older Snow…

Out of sight, out of mind as they say.

“Petal, a letter for you from my son.” Crassus announces, holding the letter up for you to see as he stands in front of the fireplace shifting thru mail while you sit on the sofa watching CapitolTV.

Grandma'am was out visiting the neighbor, Pluribus, so it was just you and Crassus inside of the penthouse.

“Oh, thank you.” You thinly smile, rising from the sofa to go get your letter from the tall, stoic man that you've come to appreciate since you began living in the Snow's ancestral home.

Crassus knew that now was his chance to snatch you away from his bratty son. That now's the time to woo you. And how does he know?

By the thin, forced line of a smile on your face and the tight tone of your voice when you thank him for his son's letter.

“Y/N, I see how much you're suffering. Perhaps you'd like to talk about it with someone who's been deployed throughout Panem?” Crassus remarked, his voice low and thoughtful as he hands you over the letter.

“I'm fine, Crassus.” You lie, fingers brushing while taking the letter from him. “I don't need to talk about Coryo's deployment in 8, but thank you for the offer.” You assure the man towering over you while looking at the letter you're holding.

“You're not fine, petal.” Crassus tells you in a low, deep, all knowing tone.

It's unsettling since Coriolanus had told you the exact same thing one night before he was shipped off. He told you that you weren't fine; in a similar tone and manner that his father had just used on you right now.

You never noticed it before, but were Coriolanus and Crassus truly mirror images of each other?

“You haven't filled out your University admissions packet, so I surmise that you won't be attending. I also noticed how you sulk around, wasting your life waiting for a ghost.”

The packet was still untouched on his mahogany desk in his study. It was due weeks ago. Now that it's early September and the fall semester's starting soon, well, Crassus knows that it's too late for you to select a major of interest to study. That you won't be attending the University.

That doesn't bother him. In fact, Crassus prefers for you to be home with Grandma'am all day. You're a very beautiful Capitolite girl and in his mind you're better suited as a socialite. He's sure in time you'll get used to staying home and doing lady things all day such as luncheons, shopping, tea parties, etc.

“I-” You began, but your protest died on the tip of your tongue when Crassus cut you off with a blunt, “You can deny it all you want, but you fill your days moping over my son's absence.”

Of course, he saw right thru your facade. Crassus was a very perceptive man, a cunning one as well. He picked up on things that most people would overlook.

“You need to find a hobby to occupy your time; keep your thoughts off of things.” Crassus tells you knowingly. As if he has first hand experience in the matter.

Well, maybe he did.

“A hobby?”

“Yes.” He nods. “My mother has her rose garden; my late wife had her silly little songs and the piano.” The tall platinum blonde explains. He shifts his weight slightly on his feet while suggesting, “So perhaps you can find something as well.”

“Perhaps.” You parrot.

Maybe Crassus is right? Maybe a hobby will help you during Coryo's absence.

Crassus pecks you on the cheek before patting it and telling you, “Go on and read your letter. I'll be in my study reading my own mail.”

Without another word he walked away from you and into the direction of his office, a pile of mail in his hands.

You decided to take Crassus' advice and find a hobby to take your mind off of Coryo's deployment. After thinking about it, you realize that Crassus is right. You need to focus your energy on something else and since you're not in the best mindset to go to University (going to University was Coriolanus' dream; he wanted you to attend with him) a hobby is necessary.

At first you try your hand at gardening. You spent some time with Grandma’am in her rooftop rose garden, but you weren't a natural green thumb like she was. In fact, gardening seems to frustrate you.

Coriolanus was the botanist that thrived under Grandma'am Snow’s gardening lessons. Well, he did when he was still living in the Corso penthouse before he was conscripted into the Peacekeepers.

Anyways….

And since you weren't classically trained on the piano like Crassus' late wife, Demeter, you had only two other options for a hobby. Sewing or baking.

You weren't too handy with needlework and didn't want to bother Tigris with sewing lessons, because you knew that she'd start talking about Coryo. You couldn't handle that. The kind hearted young lady always meant well when she brought up Coryo, but it was a sore topic for you.

So, that left baking as your only hobby option.

But you had an old recipe book of your mother's from her native 12, so at least you had something to work with. You didn't have to bake blind without recipes.

Most of the recipes were for cookies. A couple for cakes, but mostly various cookies. Oh and bread. Lots and lots of bread.

Apparently, District 12 really loves their bread.

And on top of reading your cookbook you've been watching a baking show:

The Great Panem Bake Off

It's a baking competition where the best amateur bakers in all of Panem compete for a title and prize money. You began watching it for baking ideas and ended up writing down the recipes of the goodies that the judges liked.

After a few weeks of reading your mother's old recipe book and watching the baking show on CapitolTV, you decided to bake a batch of classic and simple sugar cookies.

So, one late afternoon while Grandma'am was tending to her magnificent rooftop rose garden you're in the kitchen hard at work baking a large batch of lemon zest and vanilla bean sugar cookies. Thankfully, living in Capitol City, Panem, you're able to procure the ingredients easily for your cookies.

You're so engrossed in making your cookie dough and baking off the tasty treats that your mind doesn't even focus on the missing member of the Snow family. Not once does Coriolanus cross your mind. No, the only thing crossing your mind is measuring out the ingredients and adding them to the bowl; mixing until firm and smooth. You're too busy letting the cookie dough chill and timing it to think about sulking over your best friend.

And when it's time to roll out the sugar cookie dough and cut the cookies out with a cutter, well, you can't even imagine thinking about anything but getting the cookies stamped out and onto the cookie sheet pan. A sheet pan lined with parchment to keep the cookies from burning and sticking (a tip you saw on the baking show).

You're so scared that if you leave the kitchen your batch of cookies will burn, despite having a timer set. So, you sit at the kitchen table reading a book that Crassus had recommended a few weeks back; waiting for the cookies to bake. Between the mouth watering aroma of fresh cookies filling the air and the intriguing plot line of the book you're reading, you're mind's too preoccupied to drift off to a melancholy about Coriolanus being gone.

Infact, it seems that Crassus was right about a hobby keeping your mind busy and off of things you can't change.

His son serving as Private Snow over in 8.

When the timer goes off you put on your floral printed oven mitts, which match your frilly apron, and pull the cookie sheet out of the oven. After setting the pan on the counter, you transfer the sweet treats to a cooling rack before rolling and cutting out another batch of cookies to place onto the sheet pan and back into the oven.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, reading your book while waiting for the cookies to bake whenever you heard the front door open accompanied by the sound of Crassus' shoes echoing against the marble floor.

Crassus was home and all you could think of was getting his opinion on your cookies. Being a first time baker, you're afraid that they wouldn't be good. Even tho you followed the recipe religiously and everything seemed to turn out, you're still scared that your first foray into baking won't be successful.

So, you set your book down on the table, quickly rise to your feet, and grab a cookie from the cooling rack that's on the counter.

When you rush out of the kitchen, freshly baked cookie in hand, you see Crassus is starting to cross the foyer. He stops when he sees you, nose sniffing at the air, as his icy blue eyes take in the excited smile on your face.

From the smell wafting from the kitchen paired with the frilly floral apron you're wearing, the general concludes that you've taken up baking. He thinks it's good that you found something to occupy your days with.

Crassus is a tall man, even taller than his son, so he towers over you as you stand before him. Before he could make a comment on your new hobby, you grab him by the shirt and yank him down to your eye level- only to shove a freshly baked sugar cookie into his mouth.

“How is it? Do I need to tweek anything?” You ask, watching Crassus try not to choke on a large mouthful of cookie.

The middle-aged man’s large hand comes up to his mouth to pull the cookie out while he chews on the piece that's nearly choking him. You look at him with such innocence and patience while awaiting his verdict on your first attempt at baking cookies. Oh, and how your doe eyes has Crassus' knees buckling.

The cold, hard former soldier can't help, but to feel like a schoolboy again as you watch him chew his large mouthful. Oh, how embarrassing to feel like that over a young pretty girl shoving a sugar cookie into his mouth and looking at him like an angel sent from the heavens while awaiting his judgment on the sweet treat.

For some reason, swallowing down the cookie takes more effort than it should. Perhaps Crassus' throat feels tighter, as if it's closing up on him, because of the near intimate position you're in. Your face is mere inches away from his as he's hunched down into your space with your hand still tightly fisted into his shirt; keeping him in place.

Oh gods, how the man's mind is drifting off to dirty places…

“It's good.” Crassus finally answers after what feels like an eternity, but in reality was only a minute.

“You really think so?” You ask, genuinely surprised, as the icy eyed man in front of you just stares at you as if you hung the moon and stars.

A look he hasn't given anyone in a very, very long time.

“Yes,” He nods. “It's very good, petal.”

You're so happy that Crassus likes your cookie; that your first attempt at baking as your new hobby was successful. Honestly, you were scared that they wouldn't turn out. But it seems that you had nothing to worry about.

Without saying a word, you let go of Crassus' shirt and rush back into the kitchen to check on your latest batch of cookies. Crassus just shakes his head, clutching his briefcase his one hand and his half eaten cookie in the other, as a ghost of a smile slowly appears on his lips.

It seems like your innocence and warmth might be melting the cold Snow.

After the day you shoved a cookie into Crassus' mouth; nearly choking him, he's become your official taste tester for anything that you bake. He doesn't mind, in fact Crassus enjoys your baking. He has quite the sweet tooth even if he denies it.

Grandma'am enjoys when you bake chocolate treats and even Tigris enjoys your baking. She prefers your puddings. The warm hearted girl stops by from time to time to visit Grandma’am and you always give her some baked goods to take home.

All in all, your depression has dissipated and your mind's occupied with baking. You don't feel a heavy dark rain cloud over your head anymore, but instead you feel as if the sun’s shining down on you. You feel so much lighter, as if a weight has been taken off your shoulders.

And over the last few months you've grown closer to Crassus due to your baking. You looked forward to greeting him every evening when he came home with something you baked, asking him to taste it and tell you what he thought. And Crassus would always tell you that your sweet treats were good, great even.

That man loves everything you give him. From cookies to brownies to puddings to cakes to breads, he enjoys them all. Hell, he even has you pack some up for his coworkers at the Ministry of War.

Yes, cold and stern General Crassus Snow brought in baked goods to work to share with his coworkers. Honestly, he did it to brag about your baking skills. To show you off. To claim you as his in a way because women just don't bake for any man, they bake for their man.

And Crassus Snow views himself as your man.

He's been obsessed with making you his for a while; now he's succeeding in doing so.

But you don't mind his obsessive tendencies towards you. In fact, you welcome them because at least you're not lonely with him around.

And talk about being lonely, you found out from Crassus that his son, Coryo, was anything but lonely while off serving in District 8. His contacts told him that Coriolanus had taken up with a local district girl; had been with her for a while too.

Hearing that made you feel incredibly stupid for promising Coriolanus that you'd wait for him. Here you are being true blue to him while Private Snow's out fucking some district whore from 8. You wonder what she has that you don't have. Is she prettier than you? Maybe she's smarter or something? You dunno, but it hurts that he's cheating while you're waiting faithfully for him.

Aside from being hurt, you're pissed as hell. How dare he do this to you! Who the hell does he think he is? You're a proper Capitolite girl, you deserve better than what he's giving you.

Safe to say, you're a bit salty about Coryo's extra curricular activities in District 8 while serving as Private Snow in the Peacekeepers. Fucking bastard…

But at least you have your baking to help you thru it. Baking and Crassus' friendship that is.

But one day while you're baking cookies for the Yule holiday, the phone rings and you answer it only to be met with the one man you really don't want to talk to right now.

Coryo.

He tells you about some Elite Officer's Exam he took and you confronted him about his district whore. He denied it; even told you he loved you and wanted you to join him in 2 as soon as he got settled there- after passing his exams and officially being transferred that is.

And if that wasn't enough to turn your world upside down, a breaking news alert appeared on CapitolTV that would shatter Panem's heart.

It's late at night and Grandma'am’s asleep in her room while you're in the living room watching an old detective noir movie with Crassus. You're on the sofa, body softly nestled into Crassus’ side while his arm’s loosely slung around you, whenever the movie was interrupted by a news break announcing the death of President Ravenstill due to his ill health.

You're shocked to say the least. The very least. A president dying in office without a successor had never happened before in Panem's history. Normally, a president would step down if deathly ill or eldery; an election would be held to name a successor and the incumbent would pass over the baton.

President Ravenstill’s death turned the system upside down and on its head. So much so, that you ask the middle-aged man your sitting on the couch with what's going to happen to Panem now that the president’s dead. The platinum blonde man explained that the Senate would rule Panem with the help of the ministries and the late President Ravenstill’s cabinet.

Crassus also surprised you by announcing that he’s going to enter his name has a presidential candidate under the Old Guard political party. He also made a remark about how when he wins you'll be baking in the grand kitchen of the Presidential Palace. That you'll even be giving the palace bakers some of your recipes.

Everything feels so surreal; your entire day feels like a dream. A winter’s dream that can't be real, but in fact it's real. It's very real.

And to top off your day; mark the night as unbelievable, Crassus placed a hand on your chin only to tip your head to the side and capture your lips with a kiss.

A firm, but passionate kiss that caught you completely off guard.

You weren't expecting him to kiss you, but it only took a few seconds before your brain and body got on the same page and you're responding to his kiss. Your hands wrap around his neck as your lips press together. One of his hands goes to your hip while the other tangles in your hair.

You let out a breathy moan at the feel of his tongue sweeping along your bottom lip; asking silent permission to deepen the kiss. Permission that you granted by slightly parting your mouth just enough for Crassus to slide his tongue inside.

Your kiss with Crassus felt different then all the kisses you shared with Coryo- his son. Coryo's kisses always felt so needy and rushed, but with Crassus they're passionate albeit languid. It's as if the middle-aged man has all the time in the world to explore your mouth with his deeply impassioned kisses; to savor your reaction to his tongue tangling with yours, flicking against your bottom lip teasingly.

The way Crassus' lips firmly sweep over yours over and over again sparks a flaming heat inside of you. A need appears unlike anything you've ever felt before and, unable to stop yourself, you're slightly rolling your hips against him in an attempt to ease the growing ache in your core. And when Crassus breaks the kiss so the two of you can get some much need air into your lungs, you're looking at him wit lust in your doe-eyes.

Crassus can't help, but to flip you onto your back and smirk while slotting himself between your legs that have spread open on their own accord. He runs his knuckles along your cheek, only to hold your hip in his other hand. Crassus’ grip on your hip his strong, but sensual, as his other hand trails down your neck. Your chest heaves up and down as you look up at him, pupils blown wide.

“You feel what you do to me, petal?” Crassus asks, his voice low and thick, as he grinds his large cock, that's straining painfully in his pants, against your aching core.

The action has you soaking your panties. Just the feel of his bulge makes you ache, makes your pussy wetter then it already is. His cock, although trapped in the confines of his slacks, feel so large and heavy against your heated core.

“Crassus, please…” You moan needily.

"Shhh,” Crassus brings a finger up to your lips to shush you. “don’t make a noise, baby.” He dips his head down so his breath is fanning your face and his hand that's on your hip slides under your skirt, his fingertips teasingly sliding up and down your thigh. “We dont want mother to wake up now, would you?" Crassus rhetorically asks, nipping at a sweet spot right below your ear.

“We're really doing this here?” You ask, voice no more than a whisper, against his finger that was still resting against your lips.

Crassus trails his finger down your lower lip, that's bruised from his kisses, over your chin, and down the collum of your neck while telling huskily answering you with a low, “Yes.”

His lips captures yours in another searing kiss, one that shows off his years of experience, as his finger turns into his palm grasping at your breast. You moan into the kiss, your hands burying into his hair and your hips canting up slightly as Crassus toys with the wet patch right in the middle of your panties.

He pulls back from the kiss, only to slyly smirk. “I’m gonna prep you real good for my cock, baby.” Crassus scooted down the length of the couch until his head’s between your spread legs.

Legs that are shaking.

Crassus swiftly bunches your skirt up past your hips before curling his forefingers into the elestatic of your panties. “Lift your hips up for me, petal.” He orders in a low tone that's fire and ice to your ears.

Nodding, you do as you're told- resulting in Crassus pulling your panties off and licking a stripe up your wet cunt. He eases a long finger into your tight pussy while giving your clit a few kitten licks, causing you to wither from his touch.

Crassus' icy eyes hold your gaze as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of your pussy, his tongue flicking your clit expertly. You feel your cheeks grow hot, but you can't make yourself pull your gaze away from his. It's as if his light cerulean eyes have you under a spell. A spell you just can't find it in yourself to break.

Crassus pulls his lips away from your clit with a wet pop. With his eyes still on you, he says, “You're so tight, baby. I'm gonna add another finger, just let me know if it hurts.”, before slipping his middle finger inside of you alongside his pointer finger.

“I'm okay, Crassus. Please, keep going.” You told him, placing a hand in his platinum hair to encourage him to continue eating you out.

“As you wish, petal.” He tells you before going back to teasing your cunt with his skilled tongue while pumping his fingers in and out of your wet, tight hole.

Your breath hitches and you bite back a moan whenever you feel his fingertips curl up against the spongy spot hidden deep inside of you. He grins against your cunt at your reaction to his ministrations.

“Think you can handle a third finger?” Crassus asked, even tho he was planning on squeezing his ring finger into your dripping cunt no matter what your answer is.

He's a very blessed man when it comes to the size of his cock. He's large, both in length and girth, so he wants to stretch you out with his fingers as much as possible. Plus, the feeling of your tight cunt clenching around his fingers is sending all of his blood straight to his hard rock; making it even harder than he thought possible.

“I can handle it, Crassus.” You answer, chest heaving and voice wispy, as you feel a knot tightening in your lower belly.

Crassus wraps his lips around your clit, sucking hard, while stuffing you full with three of his long fingers. His ego was soaring as he heard your tiny, strangled moans mixed with the gushing sound your wet cunt made as he fingered you fast and hard while sucking and nipping at your clit. He groaned into your cunt as he felt your hands tightly holding his hair while shoving his face deeper into your cunt.

“Crassus, I'm close.” You tell him, bucking your hips in an attempt to find relief to the feelings quaking inside of you from the feelings of the middle-aged man's skilled fingers stretching you and his tongue swirling around your puffy clit.

Your thighs are shaking around Crassus' head, but he doesn't care. No, not when you're so close to cumming. Hell, he could die with his head crushed by your thighs and he'd die a happy man with your sweet tangy taste on his tongue.

His fingers curl against your g-spot just right at the same time his teeth graze against your clit, sending you over the edge. You cum with a silent scream, bucking your hips wildly.

It was unlike anything you ever felt in your life. You swear, you're seeing stars as you cum.

Crassus groans and laps up everything that you give him. You're messily dripping and all he can do is eagerly lick you clean. Oh, how your taste drives him wild.

He backs away from your cunt, only to look you in the eye while sucking your taste off of his fingers. “Sweetest thing I've ever tasted, baby.” Crassus smirks, his low tone oozing lust. And it has your cheeks flushing and your pussy growing wet- again.

Crassus quickly unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants down to his thighs. Your eyes widen as you see the large bulge pressing against his boxers, thanks to the glowing light the TV was casting in the room. You quickly realize, before he even pulls down his boxers, that Crassus’ dick is bigger than Coriolanus’. And that fact makes you both nervous and excited.

Crassus knows that once he enters your cunt he's a goner, that he'll most likely lose control. He's so pent up since his career at the Ministry of War along with his side job as an arms dealer; overlooking his assets in 13 doesn't leave him much time in his schedule to go out and fuck somebody. The gods know that he's always busy doing something.

But between his obsession with you and having your pussy in his grasp, well, he's sure that he's not sleeping a wink tonight. And neither are you.

“Sling your leg over the back of the couch, petal.” Crassus orders while pulling down his boxers; setting his very long and thick cock free to slap up against his stomach. A stomach that's still covered by his shirt. “I need your legs spread wide, as wide as possible, for me.”

“Okay.” You nod, adjusting your legs to spread wide in the way that he wanted them.

“Relax, baby, I'll take good care of you.” Uttered Crassus before pushing his cock into your wet cunt.

You bite your lip and claw at his muscular back as you feel his cock splitting you in two. Yes, you're not a virgin and had a big cock fucking you for a week back in late July/early August, but being stretched by Crassus' cock had you feeling like you're losing your virginity all over again. Clearly, your hole had tightened up after months of not being fucked- resulting in the uncomfortable feeling you're experiencing as the handsome man hovering above you pushes his fat dick into you at a steady pace.

Crassus knows your not a virgin since he didn't meet the resistance of your barrier, so he quickly realizes that you're so painfully tight because you haven't been properly fuck in a long time. Hell, he doubts you've been properly fucked at all considering the last man you most likely fucked wasn't a real man at all, but a green schoolboy.

“You can take it, baby. You took my fingers so well, I know you can take all of my cock?” Crassus praises and encourages you while sinking deeper and deeper into your tight cunt.

And when he's finally balls deep inside of your tight cunt, which is literally stretched to the max, his icy eyes roll to the back of his head and he lets out a tiny grunt.

Crassus gives you a couple of minutes to accommodate his size before he's pumping his cock in and out of your pussy at a steady, but deep pace. One of his hands is on your hip while the other’s resting on the thigh of your leg that's strewn over the back of the sofa. Your arms are wrapped around him, hands on his back, as you feel the veins of his cock gliding against your inner walls as he fucks into you- making you mewl.

“Remember, we can't be too loud.” Crassus reminds you, his deep voice a whisper that sending butterflies fluttering deep inside your belly.

“I’m n-not being t-too loud.” You protest, falling over your words and trying not to moan as you feel Crassus' cock hit your g-spot.

Your nails dig into his back and he triumphantly smirks. Oh, yes, you're enjoying this as much, if not more, then he is.

“Keep it that way and I'll reward you by letting you scream on top of your lungs when I fuck you in my room within the next half hour.” Crassus tells you, his husky voice dripping with dominance, as he fucks into you even harder.

You can't believe your ears. Crassus wants to fuck you again- tonight! And in his bed!

Something about that revelation does something to you; has you cumming around his cock while choking back a moan that wants to bubble out.

The feel of your tight cunt clenching around his cock along with the feeling of you creaming it triggers off Crassus' orgasm. He cums, painting your walls white with his seed, while kissing your lips feverishly to keep himself from moaning and grunting too loudly.

Fucking Crassus Snow wasn't just a one time thing. In fact, it was something that occured regularly between the two of you. So much so that you took to sleeping in his bed instead of in your own room.

You doubt that Grandma'am knew what was going on between you and her son. She never brought it up; never gave you odd looks either. In fact, she seems to smile every time she sees Crassus peck you on the cheek before taking off to do something, greeting you, or sending you on your way.

Plus, as time went on, Grandma'am seemed too occupied with Crassus' campaign for the presidency to pick up on anything happening in the penthouse. Whether that be lingering interactions between you and her son or your own building anxiety.

And of course Crassus was too busy with both his campaign and his work at the Ministry of War to notice you growing more anxious. Or at least that's what you thought.

But Crassus is a very observant man and he truly does notice your anxiety. He just thinks it's due to his campaign; that you're nervous about how he'll do in the primary election that's being held in a handful of months to determine the two presidential candidates that’ll go head to head in the main election for the presidency come November.

He has no idea why you're truly anxious.

Coriolanus isn't Private Snow anymore, but he's now Elite Officer Snow since he passed his exams, or at least Crassus told you that's what he heard from his contact. Crassus also told you that his son's most likely going to bring his district whore with him whenever he transfers to 2.

So, of course you're anxious about what to do when it comes to Coryo. Especially since all calls and letters from the younger Snow have ceased. You can't help, but wonder if he truly does want you to join him or if he really did bring a district whore with him.

A district whore he denied having in the first place.

And then there's the subject of Crassus, your lover and Coriolanus' father. You can't help, but wonder if fucking you’s just something he does to relieve stress since you're around. He's so busy with his career and politics that he rarely spends time with you, unless it's in his bedroom.

Yes, yes, he still taste tests your baking, but know he's having you bake for his campaign workers and volunteers that it feels like he's just testing what you bake to make sure that it's edible for his entourage. It doesn't feel like he's genuinely eating your baked goods anymore.

Unlike Coryo, Crassus has never once told you that he loves you. Hasn't even told you that he cares. At least Coryo claims to love you. If Crassus truly felt something for you, wouldn't he vocalize it?

You go on worrying yourself with so many thoughts of Coryo and Crassus until one day you finally receive a letter in the mail from the younger Snow. Crassus gives it to you, like he always does, before pecking you on the cheek and going to his office to do some paperwork for his campaign.

You read Coryo’s letter, only to discover that he's living at the Nut in 2 and wants you to join him. Enclosed in the letter’s a train ticket to District 2- dated for the following morning.

That letter has you reeling as you shove it along with the ticket back into the envelope. You place the letter on the desk in your room, a room you never use anymore.

You're weighing the words you read in the letter as you lay in bed, waiting for Crassus to join you. But when he finally does come to bed, he makes you forget all about the letter. At least he does for a little while as his body's on top of yours, fucking into your tight cunt with fervent vigor.

But as you're basking in the afterglow of your fucking with Crassus, you can't help, but to wonder what the two of you are. And the nagging question has you asking, “What are we? Do you even love me? Or am I just a stress reliever for you?", as you lay pressed into Crassus' side with your hand on his chest.

Your question starles Crassus. He blinks his pale blue eyes and the hand that's resting on your shoulder starts to rub soothing circles into it. He thought that you already knew what the two of you are, but now he knows he thought wrong. Looking down at you, he gives you the honest answer of, “You're not a stress reliever for me, petal. You're so much more than that. You're my second chance of a woman's love; you're my obsession, baby.”

Right there and then his answer soothes the worry in your soul and you decide to stay with him.

Crassus, not one for being overly affectionate since he is, after all a stern man by nature, decides to move past his love confession by changing the subject with, “Well, petal, I did promise to let you be in control of round 2 if I made a noise first.” With a smirk, he takes a hold of your hips and starts to guide you to straddle his waist while remarking, "We better get you on top, huh?”

And as you ride Crassus all thoughts of that letter and the train ticket disappear forever. It's just a piece of junkmail that you'll throw in the trash come morning.

Crassus, not one for giving up control, gives you the illusion that you're in control as he lets you ride in, but in fact stays in complete control of you by guiding your hips at the speed he wants you to go. He even pulls off his dog tags (he's never once taken them off because once a soldier, always a soldier) and puts them over your head; letting you wear them as you ride him. It's a way of marking you as his, having you wear his dog tags while fucking.

And when he grabs them, only to pull you down for a kiss, he nearly loses his mind whenever you tell him, “You're a good boy, Crassus.”, with your lips ghosting against his as you bounce up and down on his cock with ease.

Your words make him realize that you have a dom side; that you're a switch since you always let him be the dom in bed. It does something to him, makes his cock get impossibly harder, knowing that you can be dominant when you want. That you can say words of praise that sound filthy flowing from your lips in a tone that's a bit more sultry and masterful.

All of those sudden revelations had Crassus losing control. And suddenly, he's telling you, “Oh, I'll show you how good of a boy I can be.”, while bucking up into you at an unyielding and brutal pace causing you both to moan and grunt until you cum together.

You threw the letter containing the ticket to District 2 in the trash. You never told Crassus about it either. You didn't feel the need to since you picked him.

Coriolanus waited for you at the train station all day, only for you to stand him up. That made him angry. He was insulted that you didn't listen to him; that you most likely told his father about the plans for you to move to 2- that his father must've stopped you. Hell, Coriolanus felt like an idiot waiting for you only for you to stand him up.

As he walked home alone, Elite Officer Snow realized that his father had won. That General Crassus Snow had taken you from him.

He also thinks that you're a dumb bitch for not listening to him whenever he warned you about his father having a thing for you.

And a few months later, in October before the presidential elections are held, First Lieutenant Coriolanus Snow is invited to his father General Crassus Snow's wedding.

To your wedding.

Coriolanus didn't want to go, but went only because it'd look bad for his Air Force career if he snubbed his father's wedding. All of his superiors thought that General Crassus Snow, the war hero of the rebellion, was one of the best military minds on the planet. So, he was stuck going.

Coriolanus brought his wife, a pretty little thing from the districts, with him. He has her on his arm, all dolled up in a cerulean blue dress. Her hair's up in some simple updo so you notice the faint scars on her back, from where they pop out from her dress, right away.

And that's when you knew you made the right choice in picking Crassus. You remember that Coriolanus once told you a story about how he turned a girl in for thievery and helped her leave the town square once her punishment, a whipping, was done. You remember he told you that story when you confronted him about seeing somebody in District 8. But now you know that First Lieutenant Snow was using his charm to lie to you; that he really did cheat on you.

You suppose that he pulled some strings and sent for his district girl once you failed to show up at the train station in 2. You're glad that he's not alone, that he has his district whore- as Crassus refers to the girl as.

You got stuck sharing one dance with Coriolanus, being his new stepmother and all, and he let you know how he felt about you being Mrs. Crassus Snow during your waltz.

“It should've been me marrying you, not my father, Y/N.” Coriolanus told you, his face a mask of indifference as his baby blue eyes blazed with anger. “I can't believe you let him seduce you; steal you away from me.”

Narrowing your eyes at the man that used to be your best friend, you explain your situation with, “Crassus never seduced me or stole me from you, Coriolanus. We became friends while I was dealing with your absence and one thing led to another.”

“He'll never love you the way that I do, my darling rose.”

“Don't talk to me about loving me, Coriolanus. Not when you're married to some district girl.”

“My wife might be district but at least she's loyal to me, is grateful for everything that I've done for her- unlike you who jumped into bed with my own goddamn father.” Coriolanus darkly hissed before storming off, ending your dance and leaving you on the dance floor.

Crassus just raised a brow and asked you what happened once you left the dance floor and returned to his side at the table on the dias- high up on display in the ballroom since you're the newlyweds.

You just told him that you had Coriolanus didn't approve of each other's spouses and that he stormed off after trying to make his wife seem like a better woman than you. Crassus laughed and told you not to pay too much attention to his bratty son. That he's always been full of piss and vinegar when he couldn't get his way.

Crassus won the presidential election by a landslide. One of the first things he did was intergrade District 13 back into Panem. And since the former sovereign nation was a great source of income for Crassus due to his nuke factories there, District 13 was put on a pedestal. They had rights similar to those in the Capitol while the other 12 districts still had to participate in the games.

Yes, your husband kept the Hunger Games. You think it's because they're so popular, but the truth his your husband finds the way his drunken class project blossomed into a spectacle that the Capitolites adore fascinating. Plus, Crassus was a cold, stern man that was a military genius. The president saw the merits of keeping the districts under control by using the games as a lifelong punishment.

At least your husband did improve some of the living and working conditions in the Districts. He told you that that people needed a little bit of hope to keep from rebelings, but also a firm hand to guide them and keep them in line. Crassus said it was all checks and balances.

And when Dr. Gaul approached President Crassus Snow with an amendment that would have all children born in the districts, including ones born on PK Bases, be legal district citizens and registered for the games, well, your husband approved it.

You wondered how your brother felt about that. If he ever married his girl in 12, where he was serving as an officer in the peacekeepers, or if he had a family. You'd never know those answers since he disowned you after receiving your wedding invite. He was pissed about the situation, said some nasty things, and literally disowned you.

You never thought about Coriolanus and his wife, whether or not they had children. Why would you? Coriolanus never wrote, never had anything to do with you or Crassus being his ego was bruised by your wedding.

Talk about children, Crassus had given you three beautiful children. Two sons and a daughter. Javani, Xanthos, and Mara.

Javani was the oldest and he, to your surprise, favored your late father in looks and temperment. Or at least Crassus told you he did. In fact, your husband always chuckles that the only thing Javani got from him is his platinum hair while everything else is from your family's genes.

Xanthos and Mara are Snows inside and out, from dawn to dusk, tho.

And when Javani is 18 he's selected to be a mentor for the Hunger Games since he's a very intelligent young man and is in the top 24 of his class. But what made his mentorship memorial and unusual was that, by a twist of fate, his assigned tribute was his nephew.

Yes, Javani Snow’s tribute was Cassian Snow, from District 2. Cassian's the first born child of Major Coriolanus Snow and his wife, a district woman you never bothered to learn the name of.

And, it's sad to say, after seeing Coriolanus' son get reaped and assigned to Javani as his tribute to mentor, you know in your heart of hearts that you made the right decision in staying with Crassus; marrying him and becoming First Lady Snow. Because your children are safe from the games.

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meganelixabethh · 2 days

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I know I won’t get it- but I want Sunrise on the Reaping to be about Effie Trinket- it would be such a good book!!! All we really know is that the book starts on the 50th reaping and that it’s a look at propaganda. We also know our girl Suzanne only writes when she has something to say- and what better time to make the Effie Trinket Point than now?

Don’t get me wrong- I love to read the fanfics of Effie being disenfranchised from the top of the first book and helping the rebels every step of the way- I live for it- but I also don’t think it’s reality for the canon. Effie Trinket is a character with grey morality at best in the first book. No she’s not organising the games, or planning them, she’s not the iron fist that forces the children to comply nor is she the driving force behind the tradition- hell if she didn’t do it someone else would, right? But she picks the names. She chooses to be close to it. She isn’t as horrified as she should be

SHE. IS. COMPLICIT.

But if you asked her- if you sat her down and said heart of hearts, do you care about these children? She would say yes. She has a complete mental disconnect between the harm she is causing and the compassion she feels for the people being harmed. This is a direct comparison to the modern approach to harm. Just look at Palestine.

I also don’t believe Effie saw anything wrong with the games until one very specific moment. She looked at the glass ball at the 75th reaping and saw a single piece of paper, and she thought ‘this isn’t chance. This isn’t a game. This is a choice and I don’t want to pick up that slip of paper’. I whole heartedly believe it took an emotional closeness to the person being harmed to make her realise all those people were just the same as her- EXACTLY LIKE WE DO IN THE WEST.

Further details under the cut. TW for death, implied SA and pregnancy loss.

So the book starts with the 50th reaping- Effie is between 6 and 16 depending on how old you think she is. I personally think she’s about 8-10. I also think this is the first games where she’s really gotten involved in and is interested in the whole thing from start to finish. She watches the reapings and is absolutely enraptured with Haymitch from the moment he gets on stage- full on little girl crush mode. She follows the whole game and is so happy when he wins. This is the summer she decides she wants to work in the games. She follows the games every summer, gets a glamorous games job in the Capitol when she graduates (I think she went to uni tbh our girl is smart) and then became an escort.

When she’s offered 12 she’s annoyed- after all she’s the darling of the games circuit and she’s put her time in- but 12 is the only job going and if she wants the promotion she needs to take it. She thinks fondly of Haymitch’s games though. She no longer has her little girl crush on him, but she assumes the drunkenness must be an act for the Capitol, some kind of play. When she gets to 12 she realises it’s not. She sees how broken he is. She sees that this destroyed him and she just… doesn’t get it. She develops a fondness for him, still completely believing in the games, and they work together happily enough as far as she’s concerned. She starts dragging him out of bed and shoving him into nice clothes to make the district look good at first, but then she does it because she thinks it might be the only time he has anyone making sure he looks after himself. She is genuinely sad when their tributes die every year. She cries in her room at night after they go, and Haymitch can hear her through the wall when he’s sober enough.

Then the 74th happen. She loves Katniss and Peeta- I fully believe that. She likes them from the beginning, she agrees they have a chance, and when she’s not trying for sponsors, her and Haymitch sit in silence in the penthouse, watching and watching and watching. She grips his hand tightly for hours at a time, eyes almost unblinking and fixed on the screen, knees drawn up to her chest. It’s the first time he sees her as human, and she almost breaks his knuckles during the finale with the mutts. The moment they win, she lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding and went to celebrate her first victors. She deliberately turned her face away from the horror because it was easier to not feel the breadth of it. She does exactly what we did to Ukraine. What we continue to do to Palestine.

To be completely clear- she still thinks the games are right through all of this. When she comes back for the victory tour she still thinks this is all fantastic. That mental disconnect is still there. But then eleven happens. If I’m remembering right she gets blood on her and is freaking out about her dress but I would like to see that from her side. I want to see that an innocent man was shot through the head so close to her, his blood and brains splattered across her dress and her skin. I want to see her freak out and everyone assume it’s about the dress but it’s actually about the fact she saw the light leave his eyes. This is the night she goes to Haymitch. She asks him for a drink and she asks him if he thought the man felt it. He isn’t kind to her. He asks her if she ever wondered if the kids felt it? If he felt it? This is the first time they sleep together. She doesn’t spend the night in his cabin. Their physical relationship continues but nothing else changes.

Then the quarter quell- she’s upset when Snow announces the rules. She feels hard done by but also scared for Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch. She understands that she’s avoiding the issue in her mind but she clings to the idea that the games are good so she doesn’t have to face up to the horror she helped meter out. It’s that glass reaping ball that does it. That glass ball with a single slip of paper in that breaks the back of her indoctrination. It all falls on top of her all at once. Her sobs after the bloodbath, alone in her room, the desperation she felt, not just for Katniss and Peeta to live, but for her to not have to watch them die, the man in eleven, the quarter quell, Hatmitch’s sharp words, the drink she craved after she saw it, the smile she plastered on, Haymitch’s hand gripped tightly in hers, the most genuine connection she’s felt in years and oh god are you supposed to be this fucking tired when you’re only 35? She looks at that paper and she is almost incandescent with rage. She loves Katniss and she doesn’t want to be the one who says her name. She doesn’t want to do this anymore. She doesn’t want this life. She doesn’t want the games to happen at all. She’s done.

But now she’s afraid. She’s seen avoxes, she knows what happens to rebels and she’s not quite brave enough to say anything to Haymitch other than veiled comments. She’s not sure he agrees with her and he’s not sure it wasn’t an accidental turn of phrase. The moment the arena blows out she’s dragged away in handcuffs. The prison is harrowing. What little hair she has is shaved off and she spends hours having questions thrown at her that she doesn’t have the answers to. She’s beaten, electrocuted and starved. Her bones are broken, they pull a few of her teeth out and some of the things they do are so awful she can’t even bring herself to think about it inside her own head. She doesn’t feel brave. She doesn’t have the answers to give them and she’s not sure she wouldn’t tell them if she did. She’s too Capitol for the rebels and too district for the Capitol. She’s not rescued, she’s released at the end of the war. Well, ‘released’ is a strong word. The guards unlock all the doors and tell them they have been pardoned and then walk out. She drags herself outside, clutching the walls and collapses in the courtyard as a humanitarian aid worker rushes over.

She spends the first tumultuous month sedated in a hospital bed, blissfully unaware of Coin’s assassination and the last games. When she comes to, Haymitch is sat at her bedside, looking haggard and tired. She looks better than she did on the floor of the courtyard, but not by much. When he sees her open her eyes he smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He apologises for not managing to get her out. She knows she should be cross with him, but she can’t find the energy to blame him. They’ve both wasted so much time already. She pushes herself up shakily and wraps her atrophied arms around his neck, telling him that it doesn’t matter, that he’s here now. When he lowers her back down, she asks immediately after Katniss and Peeta. He tells her what happened in as painless terms as he can find, and when he’s done, she can barely keep her eyes open, tears tracking silently down her hollowed cheeks. He gently kisses her on the forehead and says he’ll be back tomorrow. It takes her a long, long time to recover.

She finds out the rest of what happened while she was imprisoned and hospitalised in dribs and drabs. Some from him, some from news, some from conversations she overhears. It takes months and months before she tells him, in halting sentences, when happened in the prison. She doesn’t tell him everything. Some things are too awful to know. They’ve not resumed their physical relationship, but they feel inexplicably drawn to one another, and in a fit of impulsivity, he invites her to come to 12 when he leaves and she does. He doesn’t ask a lot of questions, but she does tell him, eventually, all the things that led to her renouncing the games just before the rebellion. He admits to her the doctor told him she was pregnant when they found her, but miscarried while she was asleep. She can’t get out of bed for days afterwards and he brings her food and water until she’s ready to get up again. She’s glad he knows in a way. She’s glad she never had to tell him.

The next summer rolls around, and Effie is finally well enough to walk up to the woods outside the district and spends all day picking wildflowers. She ties them into attractive arrangements just like her mother taught her, using brown string instead of satin ribbons. Haymitch is in the newly built square when she arrives with her flowers. She lays them all gently on the ground, one for each child she reaped, including Prim. Haymitch walks over to her as she bows her head, slipping her hand into his. She says she’s sorry, he says ‘I know sweetheart’ and the book ends there

I know we aren’t going to get this, it’s not even a possibility but a girl can dream.

#the hunger games #sunrise on the reaping #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #haymitch x effie #hayffie #tw: death #tw: sa #tw: pregnancy #tw: pregnancy loss

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rottenpumpkin13 · 1 day

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I'm curious, what do you think was the WORST injury Zack had and SOMEHOW got away with it? You can go Hurt/No Comfort if you want we're all collective masochists in the end

Have it your way >:^) - also this took so long because I wrote a version that was not a fun read for the Zack enjoyers and had to tone it down asdfghjk

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

He vaguely recalled reading an article about comatose patients: how their consciousness, though unresponsive, remained active—suspended in void between life and death, poised to be drawn toward one or the other. Comas were like waiting rooms, and he almost wished he had something to occupy his mind—a magazine, a comic book, even a crossword puzzle, despite his usual disdain for them; anything to drown out the voices that began at precisely 4 PM each day.

Angeal was always the first to arrive, the squeak of his boots unmistakable against the polished hospital floor. He would listen intently as the supervising nurse provided updates on the condition—“No significant changes in his neurological status, the expected timeframe for him regaining consciousness remains uncertain.” But Angeal's positivity never wavered. "He will," he would insist, bless his ignorance, "Zack's strong.. He'll pull through this, I know he will."

In the first week, Zack wanted to shout, “Hell yeah I am! Watch, Angeal, I’ll be out of here in no time!” By the third week, it was as if he’d lost his voice—both literally and metaphorically. Zack prided himself on his perseverance, as if he were born with sunny-tinted glasses that allowed him to pull through everything without a fight.

Scraped knees as a child became cool battle wounds in his childhood; timeouts transformed into prisons the warrior he pretended to be had to escape; and the vegetables his mother forced him to eat were poison he had to avoid at all costs. Naturally, the waiting room analogy was what he clung to in order to stay sane.

Next came Sephiroth, heralded by the unmistakable clatter of his shoulder guards—a sound Zack likened to a cat bell, one he’d be sure to tease Sephiroth about when he woke up. Sephiroth never asked the nurse for updates; Angeal must have already filled him in. Instead, he would walk silently over to the bed, place a hand gently on Zack’s forehead, and whisper softly: “I miss you. Get well soon,” before carefully adjusting his blankets, making sure Zack was comfortable.

Inside, Zack was desperately screaming, "I will, I promise!" but Sephiroth couldn't hear him. By the fourth week, the harder Zack tried to scream, the further he felt from reality.

Then came Genesis, his presence inundating the room. He spoke to Zack as if he were awake, greeting him with a cheerful, "Good evening, Puppy," and proudly asking, "What do you think of my new coat?" Zack wished he would never stop talking. Genesis would then sit beside him and read aloud from Loveless. Zack suspected it was Genesis’ version of a prayer, and for that, he didn't mind at all.

And then there was Cloud. Zack's longing to scream out surged whenever he caught the meek shuffle of Cloud's boots, followed by the faint squeak of him thanking the nurse before entering. Cloud would meticulously style Zack's hair, crafting his signature spikes with care, as if determined to preserve Zack's essence even in his incapacitated state. His touch was gentle as he spoke to Zack as though he were awake and listening intently. Cloud would vent about his rowdy squad mates, grumble about his stern commanding officer, and lament the monotony of patrol missions where he strived to do his best

And then came the most difficult confession.

"I'm gonna stop trying out for SOLDIER," Cloud admitted one day, his voice soft as he tended to the flowers by Zack's bedside. "Tryouts are approaching, but… it just wouldn't feel right without you. Not that I'm all that confident I'd make it anyway, but I can't bring myself to do it without you here."

If Cloud could glimpse inside Zack's mind, he'd hear him screaming.

He was so helpless, trapped inside that cage, that body that wouldn't just WAKE UP. He needed to get up, he needed to be there for Cloud, and for Angeal who wasted so much time training him, and for Genesis who was finally starting to warm up to him, and for Sephiroth, who’s friendship he valued so much.

But it was useless.

He wanted to give up.

So he did.

He caved, and let the darkness take him.

But it rejected Zack. As much as death teased and loved to embrace him, it eventually always spat him out again. And maybe that was Zack Fair’s curse, cemented when his eyes fluttered open one morning.

Hovering above him was the unmistakable silhouette of a SOLDIER. With great effort, he lifted his heavy eyelids, only to find Kunsel standing before him, his appearance clearly older than the last time he had seen him. Zack should have noticed the calendar hanging on the wall, its numbers spelling out the year "0007."

Yet, instead of acknowledging the date, Zack's trembling voice broke through the silence. He questioned Kunsel, struggling with each word. He asked about Angeal, Cloud, Sephiroth, and Genesis.

Kunsel looked grim before replying.

“There was a mass desertion at SOLDIER years ago.”

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #zack fair #crisis core #writing #cloud strife

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coloursflyaway · 1 day

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hi this is ouija board anon ☺️ so glad to hear that my prompt will get two different interpretations! how fun!! feel free to use this ask to answer with the second fic if you’d like 💘 thanks for sharing!!

Hi and thank you so much for reaching out! I'll use this ask now, just so I can keep the original prompt until the other one is written 😊 And thank you so much for sending it in in the first place, I had a lot of fun with it!

“Charles”, Edwin starts, and there is something in his voice, something in between bewilderment and quiet displeasure, but still fond somehow. It’s one of the things that Charles likes about him most, that no matter how annoyed Edwin might get with him, there’s always an undercurrent of affection when he talks to him.

Charles might have had to question most relationships in his life, but he’s never had to question this one. Edwin likes him, has liked him for over ten years now, and Charles has vowed to himself never to take that for granted.

“Yeah, what’s up?”, he asks, sitting up straighter, just in case whatever is bothering Edwin will need more attention than a quip and a smile. It seldom does, especially when they are between cases, but one never knows.

“Why is there a ouija board in our office?” Edwin demands to know, holding the box up like it has personally offended him. It’s kind of cute, in a very Edwin kind of way.

“Oh!” Charles gets up, suddenly excited, because even if Edwin is the clever one between them, he’s actually proud of this one. “Isn’t that mint? I picked it up in one of the shops around the corner – and yes, I did leave some money behind, don’t worry – because I thought it might come in handy in future cases. You know, we could talk to someone who’s alive with it?”

“Why would you want to talk to someone who is alive?”, Edwin asks, prim in a way that means he hates the words coming out of his mouth, and usually, Charles can read him like an open book, but there is something strange about him now. A bit frantic, maybe, a bit unmoored.

“They might have something interesting to say?”, Charles offers, confused, and gets up so he can walk over to Edwin, pluck the ouija board from his hand. “See, they have this little planchette thing, we could move that around to ask a question-“

“But why would you want to ask a living person anything in the first place?” There is something slightly shrill tinting Edwin’s voice, and Charles wants nothing more than to soothe it, even if he doesn’t know how to.

“To find out if they know something for a case?”, he tries, but it’s obviously not the right thing to say, because Edwin’s thick brows knit together, his lips thin from how tight they are pressed. Charles frantically rifles through explanations in his head, because there has to be one, but he’s coming up short.

“But are we not the Dead Boy Detectives?”, Edwin challenges, and the shrillness is still in his tone, masking something else, something Charles has the feeling might hurt.

“Yeah, sure”, Charles agrees, and looks down at the ouija board for a second. It’s nothing special, just pressed wood and paint, nothing that should upset the most brilliant boy in the world like this. “What’s really going on, Eds? It’s just a toy, and if you hate it so much, it’s not like we have to use it or anything.”

“I’ve told you not to call me that”, Edwin starts, but there is no actual heat behind it, and now that is proper worrying. “It’s just…”

His voice trails off and he deflates; Charles has to force himself not to rush in and gather Edwin up in his arms, hold him close.

“…you have, in the past few weeks, occasionally referred to the fact that you miss aspects of living”, Edwin eventually says, after far too much time, soft and almost defeated, still saying the last word like it has personally offended him. “I was wondering if the acquisition of this… thing is part of that general displeasure with being dead.”

General displeasure with being dead is what he says, but when Edwin looks up at him, that’s not what is written on his face, and suddenly, Charles can read him again, as clearly as if Edwin had spelt his thoughts out to him, letter by letter.

“Edwin”, he answers, as softly, as warmly as he can, and there is so much worry, so much hope in Edwin’s eyes that Charles’ chest aches with it, both with affection and the pain of Edwin having to be hopeful in the first place. “There’s nothing about being dead with you that I would want to change.”

And it takes a moment, but then a smile blossoms on Edwin’s lips, and Charles needs to bite his own to stop himself from thanking every deity that might want to answer for it, for Edwin believing him.

“Truly?”, Edwin asks still, but there is no hope left in his voice, because it is not necessary anymore, just a need for reassurance. There is nothing Charles would rather offer.

“Absolutely”, he responds and the word comes easy as breathing, as easy as a heartbeat would for a living person, a breath.

And Edwin nods, looking brave and calmer and happy, and when the affection Charles feels for him threatens to overwhelm him this time, he just gives into it, pulls Edwin close and against his chest and holds him tight.

And this time, unlike most others, Edwin goes willingly.

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #painland #payneland #paynland #chedwin #charles x edwin #edwin x charles #they just make me so happy #i want to quit my job and just write fanfic every day for 12 hours straight

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velvetchrry · 2 days

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━━━━ THE COLLAPSE (2)

pairing: captain john price x f!reader

2.1k. you’ve been captured. *tw: non/dubcon

John lets you out of the hand cuffs when you prove to him you’ve calmed down a bit.

Just the ones on your wrists though — the ones around your ankles are still keeping you firmly in place on the bed. He lovingly rubs a green salve into where the handcuffs have marred your delicate skin, talking softly to you as he does. You’re not quite sure what he says, you can’t help it when you tune him out. The part of your brain that tries to save you from trauma, you think.

You beg him, plead with him, to let you use a bathroom. Almost cry for it. He makes you go in a bed pan and it's then that you realize you’ve been nude this whole time under the blanket he's placed on you. It’s embarrasing — having to go while he watches and then him cleaning you up after, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. As if some part of him enjoys it. Like he was meant to be here to take care of you. You tried to clean yourself, rip the cloth from his hands, but he warned you in a low growl not to and it scared you straight enough to let him continue.

You’re too smart to ask him to let you go. That can’t happen yet. No — you’re going to have to earn your freedom, little by little, like you did with the handcuffs. You almost did beg him to let you go in the beginning, when you were still in hysterics. John is smart. He’s a planner. That much has been obvious from the start.

The first night John feeds you every bite himself. It’s homemade soup and bread and you hate yourself for thinking how good it is. You briefly considered a hunger strike but realize not only would he probably force feed you — you also wouldn’t accomplish anything from it. You need to keep your strength up.

It’s been a few days, as far as you can tell, and that’s only by keeping track of the meals John’s been feeding you. They are actual meals too. Breakfast is sausage or bacon with toast and eggs. Lunch varies, but usually something light (you found the soup from the first night was actually his leftovers from lunch that day). Dinner is a full, homecooked meal — meats, veggies, the works. John’s even promised dessert when you ‘earn’ it, but hasn’t said what that means yet.

He doesn’t seem to take issue with your silence. You’ve barely spoken to him since he brought you down here, but he’s also been relatively quiet — only saying what he deems necessary, only soothing when rubbing that damn stinging green paste on your wrists. It discolors your skin but actually seems to be working.

No matter how hard you try, you always fall asleep at night — you get tucked in after dinner, he reads to you from his book (he’s currently reading The Old Man and the Sea), and he ends the night by kissing you softly on the forehead, turning the lights all the way off as he exits. You wait about 30 seconds before scrubbing where his lips met your skin, facial hair leaving a slight burn behind.

On the fourth day after breakfast, John enters the room, a caddy in one hand and a bucket of steaming water in the other. You can just barely make out the tops of bottles and a rag or two in the caddy from where you lay on the bed. He kicks the stool over to the bed you’ve been calling home and takes a seat.

“Time for a bath, love.”

Your throat is scratchy from underuse, but you still let out a small thank you — even if it is just a whore’s bath and not a real shower, you’ll take anything. You sit up on one elbow and reach with you other hand for one of the rags. John tsks at you.

“No, darling.”

Eyes wide as saucers, you look up at him. “B.. but you.. you said I could have a bath.”

“You are havin’ a bath,” he states matter of factly, as he plops a rag into the steaming hot bucket.

John grabs a towel and rips off the blankets covering you. You can’t stop the shiver that ripples down your spine, the whine that escapes from low in your throat. He shimmies the towel underneath you, caressing your side with light touches as he does.

John reaches down to grab the rag and wrings out the excess. He wraps it around a bar of soap and gently, very gently, starts to massage it into your skin. He starts with your feet, working his way up and up and up.

He dips the rag back into the bucket just before he reaches the seam of your pussy and a fat tear rolls down the side of your cheek. He swipes it away with his big thumb without a second’s thought. “Shh, now. None of that love.”

The rag runs across the outside of your lips gently and you let out a muted whimper. John grunts and palms the tenting in his pants before continuing to wash you. When he gets to your breasts he takes extra care to clean them as delicately as he can.

Once he’s finished on top, his strong arms grab you to sit you up. He sits on the bed behind you and washes your back hurriedly compared to the rest of your body. Once he’s finished, he takes the other wettened rag and quickly wipes the soapy residue from your skin.

“If you’re a good girl, I’ll wash your hair too,” he murmurs, his scruff brushing against your ear. Your body shudders in response. “You gonna be a good girl for me?”

Your lip finds purchase between your teeth before you decide to nod in response.

“Good,” he practically purrs, before getting up from the bed. He pushes you down onto your back with a tenderness you didn't know was possible.

“Now for the inside.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Wha-” you start, before you’re cut off. John’s warm mouth wraps around your folds, his tongue spreading you open. A whoosh of air releases from you and your hips buck up towards the ceiling. John reacts immediately and wraps a strong arm around you, effortlessly keeping you on the bed as his tongue assaults your sweet pussy. He laps up your juices like you’re the first water he's come across after days in the desert. Like he just found the fountain of youth between your legs.

You squirm and try to push yourself back towards the head of the bed, but it's useless under his firm grip. You’re not sure if your tears are because of just how insanely fucking good this feels or because you want him to stop. You should want him to stop… right?

“Sit. Still,” he growls, hot breath against your folds making you shudder. His tongue laps against you, splitting you open. It’s so wet. All of it. You feel the wetness pool against the towel beneath you; across your inner thighs; inside of you. John’s beard irritates your skin slightly as he assaults you.

John backs his mouth away from you only for a second to coat one of his thick fingers in saliva. He rubs it against you and you jump, a yelp escaping your lips. He hums to himself and he slowly rubs his finger up and down and around to your clit before he pushes his tongue inside of you again. You bite your lip hard enough that a metallic tang assaults your senses for a brief moment.

He splits you open slowly with that thick finger, dragging through your folds until he’s pushing inside. He’s purposeful in his movements. Once his finger is in to the hilt, he gives you a short lick. You whine. “Good little kitten,” he murmurs.

His finger rubs against your gummy walls while his tongue laps against your cunt with a ferocity you didn’t know existed. You can’t hold back your moans of pleasure now — you’re crying out for him. Screaming his name. Begging him to stop. Heat shoots up your spine and pools in your core. Your hips buck off the bed — or at least they try to but you can’t fight against the grip John has on your hips.

He only pauses for a moment to console you. “Shh, love. You can take it. Go on now, take it.”

He slips a second large finger inside of you and the stretch has you moaning. You struggle to catch your breath. Your toes curl, you grip the sheets hard enough to rip the fabric.

You ride out your orgasm on John’s face and fingers. Tears well in your eyes and spill down the side of your cheeks. John hums in approval the entire time.

His face is drenched when he sits up to look at you. He winces as he palms his stiffened cock. You suck in a terrified breath.

“We’ll start slow, love. Even though you let that wanker fuck you the first night,” he says with a growl. John unzips his jeans and pushes them along with his boxers off his thighs, flinching slightly when they catch on his thick length. His cock springs free and slaps against his stomach and your mouth waters. A shiver trails down your spine.

John approaches you like a predator approaching his prey. Steady, confident in his success. You know then that you’re absolutely fucked. You’ve known it for a while, in the back of your mind, but this solidifies it. Watching him saunter over to you, heavy cock palmed in his fist.

He pushes his head against your lips and you squish you eyes closed, mouth shut firmly. “Now, now pet… it’s my turn.” He brings his large thumb to your lips, his other fingers cupping the underside of your jaw as he pushes his thumb solidly into your mouth. His thumbnail grazes your gums as he forces your jaw to unclench and open around his thumb.

“No teeth,” he warns lowly, before slowly bringing his cock to your lips. Prespend wettens the tip and makes it glide into your barely open mouth. He pushes until he hits the back of your throat and you involuntarily choke, teeth barely grazing his fat cock.

He flicks your nose hard enough that you feel as if you just went underwater without holding your breath. “Watch it,” he growls. He goes achingly slow as he pulls back out, a string of your saliva the only thing connecting you two. Another tear falls and he gently wipes it away. The delicate skin on the side of your eyes starts to burn.

He fists some of your hair at the back of your head before pushing himself in again. You start to choke before he’s soothing you. “Easy, love. Breath through your nose,” he gently commands — voice low and scratchy — all while petting your hair. You do as he asks but only because you can’t get enough oxygen to your lungs.

“Little further,” he coos, slowly sliding himself again to the back of your throat. Your nose tickles on the dark coarse hair of his pelvis. He grunts at the squeeze. John watches you reverently in this position. He’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life. He can’t wait to break your stubborn streak, once he fucks your pretty little cunt. Can’t wait to stretch you open, feel your walls clench around him. You’ll be a good girl then. He just knows it.

Both of his large hands paw at your head now as he sets a steady pace. He almost cums just looking at the sight of you taking him. It takes every last bit of his reserve not to just blow his load right there. He grunts and shudders everytime his tip slams into the soft wall of your throat. Saliva runs down your mouth, tear tracks marking your beautiful skin. The prettiest sight he’s ever seen.

He fucks your mouth until he can’t hold on any longer. Ropes of his cum trickle down your throat and he pulls out faster than he would like to in order to keep your jaw closed completely. He watches you carefully as you struggle to swallow his load. Once he’s certain you have, he lets go of your face and you suck in a deep breath. You sputter, your lungs burn. The thick coating of him lines the inside of your mouth and you try not to gag.

“Sweet kitten,” he soothes, lovingly petting your head. “Come now, let’s wash your hair.”

#call of duty #cod x reader #john price x y/n #captain john price x you #captain john price x reader #john price imagine #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price x female reader #captain john price x female reader #captain price x y/n #captain price x you #captain price x reader

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