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forget-you-morelike-fuck-you · 11 months

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That's What Friends Are For- E.M.

I've been really thirsty for Virgin!Bestfriend!Reader x Eddie so I poured myself this taaaallll drink of water. Hope you love it xx

You've never had an orgasm, and Eddie would be happy to help remedy that.

Part 2

Masterlist

TW- 18+ MINORS DNI!! Cursing, mentions of smoking, heavy petting, pet names (angel, sweetheart), a lil crying (but in a good way), fingering (lmk if I missed any)

Pairings- Virgin!Bestfriend!Reader x Eddie

Word Count- 4,802

(Gifs not mine, credit to owner!)

It wasn’t something that you’d normally ask, but with the haze of weed clouding your senses and the exaggerated moans of the poor actress being exploited for the dumb action movie you and Eddie were watching out of sheer boredom, you couldn’t help yourself. You turn to Eddie, the cogs in your head turning in overtime as the words reach your mouth before you can even put too much stock in them, ��What does an orgasm even feel like?” Your eyes narrow as you imagine it, the sounds of the woman on screen echoing in your mind. There’s no way that real people sound like that, no, this is just some stupid movie that you and Eddie had never even heard of before digging it out of the pile of tapes beneath the TV. “I mean, I guess it’s gotta feel good, but does it feel that good?”

While you ponder the probability of the sounds onscreen being at all accurate for real-world scenarios, Eddie’s face pales, the light high he’d been enjoying completely knocked out of his body at your words. Despite being best friends for the past several years, you never really talked about your sex lives with each other. For you, it was because it didn’t exist. For Eddie, it was because the only person he really wanted anymore was you. Every other person in town combined couldn’t interest him half as much as you, and he had definitely looked. Pining after your best friend for years wasn’t really something Eddie was interested in doing, not that it helped. Of course, the only reason you hadn’t made a move—aside from the fact that you were thoroughly terrified at the thought of being rejected—was because you thought that Eddie was something of a ladies’ man. You knew he was much more experienced than you, not that that was a difficult feat, but you knew that he at least went on dates. And you never wanted your attraction to him get in the way of your friendship anyway. If he liked you, he would’ve made a move sooner, right?

Wrong.

Eddie had fallen head over heels for you about a year after you had met, both of you juniors in high school. You went away with your family on vacation for a couple weeks that summer and came back... different. You were more confident, and even though it had only been a short separation, you looked different, more womanly than gangly teenager. He liked you before, but some switch inside his chest flicked, like the lights were finally turning on in some long-forgotten roller coaster ride. He’s had it bad for you ever since, suffering in silence because he knows how shy you used to be, and still are to some extent. He would never, ever want to do or say anything to make you uncomfortable, including putting his feelings on the line in exchange for your amazing friendship.

Still, the news that you didn’t know what an orgasm felt like was surprising. He knew you were private about your dating life, and he always respected that. But you had had boyfriends before. And you were both in your early 20s now. Surely you had been with one of them. Or even figured it out on your own...

“What?” is the brilliant response that flies from Eddie’s lips as his brain short circuits. You look back at his face, having wandered away, lost in thought. Eddie half expects you to backtrack, but still, to his surprise, you double down.

“What does an orgasm feel like?” He can tell your Mary Jane consumption must be fueling this line of questioning, but if you’re really curious...

“Um, well...” Eddie flounders, trying to find the words to say. You keep your focus on him, your thoughts trailing only slightly as you wait for him to respond. “It... It does feel really good. I don’t know exactly what it feels like for women, but for guys, at least, for me, it’s like my whole body kind of explodes, but in, like, the best way,”

You mull this over for a moment, your eyes darting between Eddie’s face and the screen, which has since moved past the over-exaggerated sex scene back into shootouts between the good guy and the bad ones. “Okay, well, have any of the girls you’ve been with ever sounded like that?” You were genuinely curious, trying to imagine what could feel that good and coming up blank.

Eddie chuckles a bit, eyes flicking up in a memory, “Well, one, but I’m pretty sure she was faking. Some women think they have to sound like that because that’s what the movies show them they’re supposed to sound like. But really, there are all different kinds of... sounds... that people make when they’re feeling that good,” he explains, his surprise relaxing now into amusement just slightly.

“Oh,” You look back at the screen, apparently done with your questions. Eddie feels his heartbeat fading back into its normal rhythm after the near heart-attack you had inflicted upon him, and things go quiet for a minute before you turn your head back toward him, mouth poised open to speak. “Do you think—Never mind,” You quickly shove the thought back down your throat, remembering that Eddie’s not supposed to know you’ve been in love with him forever.

The possibilities of what you were about to ask him makes his heart race again, until he’s burning to know. “What is it?” He asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Your lips press together and shake your head as a heat spreads over your face, giving you a moment of clarity amid the warmth of the high. “No, it’s okay, it was a dumb question,” You wave your hand in dismissal, and pray that Eddie doesn’t press it further in fear of your mouth working faster than your logic. Of course, you have no such luck.

“There are no dumb questions. If you want to know something, all you have to do is ask. Would I ever judge you for anything? And really think about that, because I’ve seen you pick a pickle up off the floor and eat it,” He laughs, trying to diffuse the tension. It helps a little, and with his reassurance and that fleeting moment of clarity far away, you open your mouth again, hesitating as you find the right words.

“Do you think... that you could maybe... show me?”

Eddie’s eyes bulge from his skull, and he’s afraid that his heart has totally stopped for a minute. But after an agonizing moment, a thick thump of his heart breathes life back into him, and he can only pray that you can’t hear it as it loudly thump, thump, thumps in his chest.

“Show you..?” It’s a begging question. He’s not exactly sure which part you want to learn, and he wants to make sure he doesn’t assume anything.

You turn away again, the mortification laying over you in a thick blanket. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have... You can forget it,”

Eddie doesn’t want to mess this up, and the visions of you making such pretty little sounds for him, or better yet, unraveling under his touch, automatically send all of the spare blood in his body downward, so quickly that he almost becomes dizzy. He has to make an effort to shift his body to hide his growing erection as he tries to reassure you. “No, no! Don’t worry, I’m listening. It’s okay, I swear! What do you want me to show you? I... I can do my best,” His voice is sincere, sincere enough to make you look sheepishly back at him, your lashes low as you try not to look in his eyes.

You take a deep breath, your head buzzing with adrenaline as you form the words. “Would you show me how to have an orgasm?”

Eddie swallows hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing in his throat. He’s trying so hard to make this seem as chill as possible, for both of your sakes. If he gets too eager too quickly, there’s no way he wouldn’t just bust in his pajama pants, and he might scare you. His mouth is dry as he nods quickly, “Um, yeah. I- I can definitely try,” He watches as your face grows redder by the second, but you give a small smile, one that makes Eddie lightheaded again as another shockwave of want shoots through his half-hard cock. “Do you want to go to my room?” He asks softly, gauging the look on your face as you still avoid his eyes.

“Yeah,” You murmur, but your legs won’t move. There’s a want in you, despite not knowing how to indulge it, and as Eddie gets up from the couch, offering a hand to you, you take it and squeeze, finally looking up at him. Eddie feels like he might faint in that moment, your hazy eyes doe-like and innocent, not making it any easier for him to keep calm. He pulls you up to your feet and you follow him, your hand in his, to his room.

You shut the door behind you, flicking the lock on the knob despite being the only ones home, and turn to face Eddie, who stands just behind you, still not believing what might happen. “S-so, um...” He begins, feet shuffling beneath him. “For girls, it’s a lot harder to... finish. It takes a lot of warming up first,” Your brow furrows.

“Warming up?” A blush breaks out over Eddie’s cheeks, and he reaches out to let his fingers trace up your arm, ghosting over your shoulder and up your neck. A breath hitches in your throat as his palm cups your face, and suddenly, you think you might know what he means. Nevertheless, he explains.

“It’s a lot easier when you’re feeling good from other things first. Like touching, kissing... things like that. It can be painful if you don’t do it right,” Your lashes flutter as he leans in slightly, and you can feel his warm breath fan over your face.

“Oh,” Eddie lets out a breath of a laugh at your breathless response, and already you feel yourself turning to putty in his hands.

“I want you to tell me if you don’t like something, okay? Don’t try to spare my feelings. If you want me to stop doing something, or you want me to do something specific, you tell me. Okay?” The demanding edge in his whispers snaps you back to reality, and you feel a warmth building deep within you. It’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before. Sure, shadows of this have been felt watching risqué movies with sex scenes or kissing your prior boyfriends awkwardly in the backs of their cars, but that pales in comparison. This is a new, deep burn in the very depths of your body.

“Mhmm,” You try to lean closer to him, to feel more, but his other hand goes to your waist, holding you in place. Your eyes meet his, and they’re unexpectedly hard, his brown eyes serious as he looks at you.

“I need you to say it. I need to know you can say it,” Your breath stutters again at his words, but still, you find your voice.

“I- I don’t like that,” You whisper, and it’s all you can do. Eddie nods in approval, but his eyes want you to continue, “I want you... I want you to kiss me,” You can hear the hammer of your heart in your ears, your blood singing as the anticipation grows. Eddie’s eyes return to their normal softness, gazing into yours like he’s seeing the sun set over the ocean for the first time.

“Are you sure?” Eddie whispers as he inches toward you, his face leaning down ever closer. This might be the closest you’ve ever been to him, and the thought sends a delicious shiver up your spine. His nose just brushes yours, and your eyes flutter shut.

“I want you to kiss me, Eddie,” It’s barely a breath, but he hears you, and gently, gently, his lips meet yours, barely a brush of skin against skin. You hear him suck in a deep breath before letting his lips move against yours a little more firmly, the hand on your waist snaking around your back to pull you closer to him. You let your hands find the back of his hair, which is up in a cute, messy bun, and your fingers wind themselves around a few loose, curly tendrils there. Then, Eddie’s lips move across your cheek, down toward your jaw, and the first sound comes loose from your lips.

It’s a tiny noise, but it might as well have been Eddie’s favorite song, the way he revels in it. He can feel the pounding of your heart in your chest as you press yourself against him, not really knowing what to do other than let Eddie work his way down your neck with his lips. “E-Eddie...” You whimper, hands gently grasping at the fabric at the back of his worn t-shirt.

Eddie stops then, immediately, waiting for your instruction. He had gone too far, hadn’t he? He had done something to make you uncomfortable and now you’d never ever talk to him again... “Can we lay down?” You ask, breathy and quiet in his ear. He presses a firm kiss to the top of your shoulder in relief, elated that you were enjoying what was happening before pulling away.

“Yeah, let’s get you comfy,” He smiles one of those easy, lopsided smiles that takes your breath away, and you feel the butterflies that usually reside in your stomach move downward to your core. You instinctively clench your thighs together to try to squash the foreign feeling, but as Eddie moves to lay down, you see the bulge in his loose pants, and it sends a new swarm flooding your body. With a deep breath, you join Eddie and lay next to him, his face only inches from yours. His hand reaches toward your face, gently brushing a few stray hairs behind your ear. “Do you want to just keep kissing, or are you ready to try something else?” He asks. You think it over, biting the inside of your lip as you bite back the embarrassment of being so inexperienced next to him.

“Can we try something new and still do some kissing?” You smile sheepishly, not being able to hold his gaze as your face heats. He lets out a small laugh, not at you, but because you’re so nervous.

“Yeah, we can do that. Is it okay if I touch you? I can just try a few things and you can figure out what you like,” He suggests, his eyes roaming over you. You’re not wearing a bra, because you never did when you and Eddie were just lounging around watching movies and smoking, something Eddie had to get used to quick when your body started really developing. Once or twice when he was a few years younger, he had to fake an upset stomach just to relieve his aching cock in the bathroom upon seeing your pert nipples through the fabric of one of his old t-shirts.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” With your permission, Eddie’s fingers gently reach the hem of your shirt, slipping under and running his calloused fingertips over the smooth skin of your side. You let out a gasp, your eyes screwing shut, and he notices the way your hips move of their own accord, trying to scratch an itch you’ve never felt before. He has to bite back a moan of his own just at the sight of you, so beautiful, so willing beneath his capable hands. He lets out a shaky breath as his hand moves up your side, leaning in to kiss you like he said he would, like he was aching to do again, and you accept his lips greedily, your hands pressing into the sides of his face as he glides across your skin, not light enough to tickle, but enough to send tingles over your skin, goosebumps forming in the wake of his caress.

When his hand comes to cup your breast, not daring to flick over the sensitive nub just yet, you let out your second noise as he gives a little squeeze there. This one is muffled by his lips, pressed firmly to yours, and the vibration of it shoots straight down to his cock, which twitches willfully in his pants, wanting you more and more every second that passes.

With a light touch, Eddie lets his thumb just brush your nipple, and it sends an electric shock through you, leading to your third noise, a much sharper sound that almost sounds painful. But when your lips press into his even harder, Eddie is only spurred on and he does it again, then lets his full hand grope over the full mound, rubbing across your breast with his palm. Eddie lets his tongue trace over your bottom lip then, and you open your mouth to him, not really knowing how to kiss with tongue, but unwilling to stop to make a comment about it as your body ignites to a new level of fire and electricity.

Your legs are continuously rubbing together now, the friction glorious but not enough, and you want to feel more. You’re panting in between the long stretches of kissing, and while you don’t want to stop, you also need to tell Eddie what you want. So, instead of rushing back to his kiss, you press your thumb gently to his bottom lip, pupils blown with need. “Can you take my shorts off?” You ask, your confidence building. Eddie nods all too eagerly, and he gets up onto his knees to shift town toward your bottom half. You roll onto your back and lift your butt to make it a bit easier for him, his hands finding purchase at your hips, fingers dipping just below the waistband when he stops.

“Do you want me to take your underwear off too?” He asks, wanting to be sure. You bite your lip again as the embarrassment floods back.

“I’m not wearing any...” You admit, giving a small smile. His hands grip at your hips a bit harder then, and his sharp breath only helps your growing need. This is the most beautiful you’ve ever seen him, towering over you like this. You can see the long outline of his length through his pants now, and you let your mind wonder what could happen if this goes even further than you originally intended. It’s enough to make your hips roll in Eddie’s hands as he starts pulling down your sleep shorts. You close your eyes, trying to keep your embarrassment from making you chicken out when you’re finally about to get what you’ve always wanted.

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes, and your eyes shoot open as you stare at him, mortification building in your chest.

“What? Is it bad? Do I look weird?” You ask in a flurry. Your hands go to cover your face, thighs clenching together to spare yourself when Eddie pries your legs apart again.

“What? God no! You look... You look fucking amazing,” There’s a wonder in his voice, and you peek through your fingers to find him staring down at you, the look on his face amorous, hungry almost, like you’re his favorite meal in the world. It takes you aback, but nevertheless, there’s a twitch in your hips again, seeking a friction that you can no longer achieve for the time being. Eddie gently lowers himself on top of you, and you let out a moan when you feel the fabric of his pants brushing over your bare pussy. You let your hands fall as you try to push yourself into him, but there’s a hand holding onto your hip now to keep you down. “Oh my god, please, can you try not to do that right now? I am already in serious danger here, angel. If I feel even a little bit of you against my dick I’m fucking done for,” Eddie breathes a laugh to cover the moan in his voice, his face hovering over yours.

“B-but I want—” Eddie cuts you off with a deep kiss, his hand squeezing into your hip as you desperately try to feel him against you again.

“Not tonight, sweetheart. I want this one to be about you, okay? If you still want to in the morning, we can circle back,” Eddie offers, and you give a small nod. “Okay, then. I’m gonna touch you now, okay? I’ll go nice and slow. If you want me to change what I’m doing, just tell me,” You nod again and the hand gripping your hip travels down and his lips meet the hollow of your neck, giving just a tiny nip at the skin that sends your hips up again in need. Eddie tries to hold it in, but he can’t help but moan softly against your skin as he continues his journey.

His fingers ghost just over the sensitive bud of nerves then, and the shock that goes through your body is even more intense than before when he was playing with your nipple. Your arms fling around his back and you grip the fabric of his t-shirt like a lifeline. “I’m gonna take good care of you,” Eddie whispers as he travels up your neck, “I’m gonna make you feel so good,”

The promise is punctuated by a soft circle around your clit, and your whimper is so pathetic it startles you as it tumbles from your lips. You can feel how wet you are now; how hot your core is against his fingertips. It’s so blissful, so wanton that you feel your walls clenching around nothing, another new feeling that sends your head reeling. Eddie continues his gentle pattern around your bud, sucking sweet bruises into the skin below your ear between whispers of sweet nothing that spur you forward on your quest into the unknown world of this beautiful feeling.

“E-Eddie,” You plead, head thrown back in pleasure. Your fingers pull his shirt so that your hands connect with his skin, “Can you go—Can you go a little f-faster, please?” Eddie nods into the crook of your neck as he complies, fingers moving just a bit faster, a bit firmer against you, and your chest starts heaving in pants again, moans spilling from your mouth more freely now. You grind into his hand pathetically as the intense pleasure grows. You feel like you could cry at the feeling, so blissful and beautiful and everything you’ve ever dreamed of as Eddie works you further and further, his lips only ever leaving your skin to whisper sweet nothings to you.

“You’re doing so good... I can’t believe I get to do this for you... Been wanting you like this for so long...” Eddie nips and sucks and licks across your neck, up your face, across your lips, and you’re just so consumed by him that you feel hot little pinpricks in the corners of your eyes, your throat going thick as the tears begin.

When Eddie catches sight of the first one, he slows his work on your core, afraid that you had changed your mind. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” You feel a pang of panic then, not really knowing why but knowing that you were desperate to reach the edge you were approaching. You pull at his shirt, not being able to verbalize your excruciating need for a second.

“No, no!” You plead, “Don’t stop, please... I just... Please don’t stop...” You don’t know why you’re crying. Maybe because it feels so good, maybe because the emotions are just so new that your body is startled by them. Either way, Eddie is reluctant but believes you, because he trusts you and you trust him so completely that you don’t think that there’s any way that either of you would or even could hurt each other.

Eddie picks up the pace again, his lips focusing on yours now to help keep you from crying. Your fingernails scratch up his back as you whine and writhe beneath him, coming closer and closer to something. There’s a tenseness in your stomach now, and it’s building. There must be a precipice close, a pinnacle to all of this pleasure and need Eddie has been giving you. Your panting breaths become more ragged, and Eddie gets the feeling that you’re close.

“That’s it, angel. You gonna cum for me?” He practically moans against your mouth, and it’s another agonizing minute of this pressure inside you building before you feel it.

Your hands clench Eddie’s shirt as you unravel. Your tears are flowing freely down your face, mouth open in a loud moan that reverberates on the walls of Eddie’s small room. Eddie keeps drawing circles over your clit as you ride through the waves of your first ever orgasm, kissing down to the top of your chest and back up to add to the pleasure. Finally, you feel it start to subside, the wide waves lessening into ripples as your breath starts to even out again. Eddie slows down again, and finally stops after a few more seconds, wanting to draw out your bliss as much as he can. He kisses you deeply, the hand on your pussy traveling up to grip your side, sliding up past the hem of your shirt as he holds you firm. You can feel the slick on his fingers cooling down on your skin, and it sends a new wave of shivers through your body.

You kiss each other for a long time, not wanting to go back to reality where you’re just friends, but finally you have to pull away for air. You look at each other, both of you quiet. There’s a new electricity in the air, charged with the anticipation of what you’ll say to each other now that everything has changed.

“How was that?” Eddie settles on, his brow set in a concerning furrow. He wants to make sure that you had the best experience he could’ve offered you, because that’s what you deserve. You deserve to feel this good all the time.

Your soft eyes bore into his and you nod slowly, trying to etch every detail of this night into your memory forever. “It was amazing. You are...” Your hand comes to hold his face, and he leans into your touch in such a way that your heart melts for him even more. “You’re so amazing, Eddie, thank you.” You give a little laugh then, at how silly it sounds for you to thank your friend for giving you an orgasm. Eddie laughs a little too, and he stretches his lips to kiss the edge of your palm.

“Anything for my favorite girl,” He whispers, smiling that easy smile that you love so much. Pride sparkles in your chest at his words. God, you love him so much...

“So...” You feel a blush creeping on your face again, “You’ve been wanting me... like this?” You think back to the words he whispered against your neck that made your insides turn to mush.

Eddie flicks his eyes away from you, embarrassed. “You caught that, huh?”

“Was I not supposed to?” You giggle, your smile sending shockwaves through Eddie’s body.

“Well, I just didn’t think you would. You seemed to be pretty distracted if I recall,” He jabs playfully, his gaze returning to you. His eyes soften at his next thought, “What do you think about that?”

This is it, this is where everything changes. It’ll never be the same after this. “I...” You begin, building your courage. “I’ve been wanting that, too.”

Eddie’s face moves through confusion, surprise, and then settles on joy, his smile widening to reach his sparking brown eyes. “Yeah? You’ve been wanting that too?” Your smile matches his as you nod, letting out a breath of a laugh with the relief settling in your chest.

Suddenly, Eddie squeezes you in a bone crushing hug, peppering kisses over your face as you giggle. His lips settle on yours again, and it’s like taking a drink of cool water after wandering in the desert. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to this, but by God, you’d be happy to.

You keep kissing and cuddling for a long time, talking like you usually do, how best friends do, but now it’s just better. Best friends, but there’s no more hesitancy, no more wishing for more, because now, you have everything you could ever want.

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie my beloved

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luvf4ngz · 3 months

Text

HOT LOVE ON THE WING - jason todd.

Descripton: You’re not upset about your most recent breakup; you’re just upset you have no one to fuck anymore. Good thing your Shakespeare loving best friend, Jason, has a solution to that.

Contents: This Bad Boy Is PACKED With Shakespeare References, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cheating (Not By Jason Or Reader), You And Jason Are Absolute Fucking DORKS, Good Friend Jason Todd, Best Friend Jason Todd, Self-Indulgent, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Female Reader, HEAVY Banter, Hair-pulling, Vaginal Fingering, Squirting, Overstimulation :), Pet Names, Praise Kink, Dacryphilia, Soft Jason Todd, Dom Jason Todd, Missionary Position, Doggy Style, Cowgirl Position, Nipple Play, Spanking, Rough Sex, Dumbification, Fucked Stupid, Unrealistic Sex, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Spit/Drool, Goofy Giggly Sex, But Also Hard and Fast Sex, Jason Destroys Your Spiderman Panties :(

Word Count: 3131

Author's Note: If it wasn't obvious from the tags this is a repost from my AO3 hehe. This is genuinely my favorite fic I've ever written, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do :) <3

“It’s okay, pretty girl. You can take it, can’t you? You made a big show of defying me earlier, put your money where your mouth is - right?”

You threw open the door to his dorm, instantly honing in on his bed and diving into the soft plush. Jason is sitting at his desk, looking up at you from his book with a roll of his eyes at your dramatic entrance.

“Well, hello to you too.” His tone is dripping with sarcasm, but his smile betrays his facade. “It’s nice to see you again, stranger. How long has it been, hm?” He teases, his words alluding to the fact that you’ve been spending less time with him lately in favor of being with your “new boy toy” - as he put it.

You let out a hum into the comforter before moving to your side to properly look at him. “Well I think you’ll be very happy to hear that I’m all yours again, Todd, so there’s no need to be jealous.” You cheekily reply.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His eyebrows knit together in confusion. You thought it made him look adorable.

“I broke up with my ‘boy toy’, as you so politely called him.” You giggled out, using your fingers as quotation marks for emphasis.

“What!? What happened?” Jason’s eyes widened at the news you so casually dropped.

“Apparently he’s been cheating on me for some time. My friend showed me some pictures of him shoving his tongue down some girl’s throat at a party so I broke it off with him this morning. Anyways, what’s been going on in Jay-Land?” You grin widely as you gaze at him from the bed.

Your attempt at changing the topic of conversation went unsuccessful.

Jason sat up from his spot, setting his book down before hurriedly making his way over to you, settling down beside you on the bed.

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t I seem okay to you? I’m just fine, dude.” You tried to reassure him, your voice unwavering and relaxed as your eyes followed him.

“I mean, I guess; but I thought you really liked him.”

“It seems like you want me to be sad over this. What do you want me to say? ‘Tears seven times salt burn the sense and virtue from mine eyes!’” You gasp out the line dramatically, bringing a hand to cover your heart and the other to wipe non-existent tears from your face, before bursting out into giggles.

“Don’t you go quoting Shakespeare at me! That’s my role in this friendship!” Jason playfully nudges your shoulder as a wide grin breaks out on his own face.

“The Jason doth protest too much, methinks.” You do your best to put on a snooty tone, but your laughter prevents it.

“Oh, shut up.”

Another round of cackles start up between the two of you, and you both relish in the comfortable silence that falls after.

“You know,” You start, breaking the silence and making Jason’s head turn towards you. “There is one thing I’m sad about.”

“What?”

“His dick game was mad good.” You say with an extravagant sigh. “I’m gonna miss it.” You fake a few sniffles.

“Aw, come on now. There’s other dick out there.”

“Nah, it’s too much work. I’ll just have to survive without it for now. ‘But I have that within which passeth show; these but the trappings and the suits of woe.’”

“I can’t believe he’s got you so cock-drunk that you’re quoting Hamlet.” Jason tsks out in false disapproval. “He’s not good enough to be depressed for.”

“He’s not, but the sex definitely was.”

“It couldn’t have been that good.”

“It was.”

“Not better than what I could do though.”

“Ehhhhhh…” You squinch your face together in overplayed disbelief, causing him to fix you with a sharp glare and a hurt gasp.

“Is that a challenge?” He smirked, his eyes narrowing in competitiveness.

“I know it not ‘seems’.”

“You cheeky motherfucker.” Jason smiles out before grabbing your waist and throwing you further up the bed. It causes you to let out a startled yelp as Jason moved to hover over your body.

“Oh? You gonna prove it to me, Todd? You must be overcompensating for something if you get this riled up over such a small comment. You know, if you wanted to fuck me - you could have just asked.”

“Funny, I was about to say the exact same thing.” He leans in to bite your neck, making your body jolt against his.

“Hey! Play nice, Todd.” You scold, slapping his shoulder before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I’m ever so sorry, madam.” He fake pouts before attacking your face with kisses.

“Stop!” You squeal out, giggles erupting uncontrollably from the ticklish sensation. You move your hands to his chest, pushing him away from you. “Are you ever gonna get on with it, or are you just gonna keep messing around?”

“That’s a fair thought: to lie between maids’ legs.”

“Ugh, it doesn’t sound as good when you do it.”

“Excuse you? I’m a Shakespeare quoting champ!”

“You’re awfully defensive today, Todd.” You note with a grin.

“Keep talking, princess, see what happens.” He jokingly warns.

He pulls back from you to pull his shirt over his head, before going to tug at his pants. You follow after him, sitting up to discard your own clothing. Once you both are left in your underwear, Jason pushes you flat against the bed again.

“Spiderman panties. Cute.”

“Shut up. It’s not like I planned for this to happen.” You grumbled out at his observation. You forgot about them and your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Mhm, sure, sweetheart.”

Jason starts planting sloppy kisses on your skin, trailing his way down your body until he’s reached your waistband. He shuffles down the bed and lies down between your legs, leaning in to snatch the fabric of your underwear between his teeth and ripping it off your legs.

“Jay! I liked that pair!”

“My bad, princess, I’ll be sure to buy you some new ones.”

“Better still be spiderman.”

“I’m more Team Cap.” He disserts before gripping your thighs and dragging your core closer to his face; the back of your calves rest on his shoulders.

His eyes drag down your glistening pussy before he lets out a loud wolf whistle at the sight.

“Ew, Todd!” You laugh, trying to kick him for the action but the hold he has on you is too tight to allow movement.

“What? I’m just appreciating the view.”

He dips his head down, tongue flicking at your hooded clit before he wraps his lips and around the bud and sucks. He feels your thighs tighten around his head as your own tilts up to let out a loud moan. He replaces his tongue with his fingers, expertly working the nub in circles as he peers up at you.

Your head is turned to the side, eyes clenched and lips spilling shaky whines.

‘A damn nice sight’, if he did say so himself.

He continues to stimulate your clit with his thumb, pressing his tongue to your dripping hole to lap up your arousal.

“Fuck, Jason! You really know how to put the money where your mouth is,” You mumble into the sheets, hips bucking up every once in a while from the pleasure.

Jason grips you tighter, preventing you from moving. He briefly looks up to note “I think you’ll find I know how to use my mouth quite well”, before moving to continue eating you out.

His actions are faster, more feverous. His tongue runs up and down your sex, your slick coating his taste buds. He savors it - lets out a deep hum that reverberates through your pussy and up your spine, sending shivers through your body. He sucks and slurps at you, so passionate that you swear you can feel your soul escaping through your cunt. The wet smacks do nothing but turn you on more, your thighs pressing closer to his head and acting as earmuffs.

Your hands move from their place bunched in his sheets to his hair, tanging the dark locks between your fingers and instinctively tugging. It causes a low groan to tear from his throat, the bass and depth of it fueling the uncontrollable hot ache in your stomach. That only makes you want to do it again. The second tug makes a sound that’s akin to a growl, before Jason pauses his movements to stare up at you.

“Careful, princess. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

It’s a sight to behold. Jason: heaving, eyes blown, his face shiny from your smeared slick. His mouth is open, panting - his gaze refusing to leave contact with yours. There’s mischief glimmering in the depth of his eyes.

You don’t reply - only smirk, and yank his head closer to your sex again.

“Oh, you’ve done it now.”

His hand moves from your clit to your dripping hole, two fingers pushing their way inside you. His lips reattach to your clit as he starts to move his fingers - fast and rough and leaving you no time to adjust to his intrusion.

“J-Jesus fuck!” He can feel your thighs twitching, can feel your fingers gripping onto his hair hard in response, and it only spurs him on more.

His palm smacks against your cunt with each hit, splattering your slick. His fingers move at an unfathomable speed, pads searching for that one spot inside you that will make you see white.

You’re whimpering and whining above him, senses overwhelmed at Jason’s rough ministrations. It’s too much: the pressure building inside you. It feels like you’re on the edge, senses ready to fall into a never-ending pit of endorphins and fear and exhilaration. There are fireworks inside you, lit and ready to burst and fry all of your sensibilities.

Finally, it happens - what Jason’s been waiting for. With a slightly tilted angle of his hand and a curl of his fingers, he finds it. He knows because you suddenly tense up; because you let out the most angelic, strung-out moan he’s ever heard; because your walls clamp down on his fingers and a jet of tangy, sweet liquid hits his awaiting tongue.

God he wishes he could watch you cum over and over and over. He’s gonna think back to this moment when he’s fucking his fist in the future - that’s for sure. The view of you - back arched, eyes teary. The sensation of you - warm and wet and tight against his digits. The sound of you - desperate and high pitched and wailing out his name. He wants it all burned into his brain.

“Jason, Jason!” Yeah, that’s the sound of heaven alright. “Jay! Stop! I came- I can’t!”

Hm?

Oh. He hasn’t stopped pumping his fingers inside you. Oh, well.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. You can take it, can’t you? You made a big show of defying me earlier, put your money where your mouth is - right?”

God, you’re shaking. You look like a leaf shivering in the wind, or a cat left out in the rain. Your eyes are glossy and teary and fuck. You look so beautiful falling apart for him.

Your brain is in shambles, screaming and begging for a reprieve. It’s dizzying, the assault of your sensations. All you can hear, think, feel is Jason.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please!”

“Come on, princess. Just let go. Just one more for me, yeah?”

You can’t tell if the second orgasm hits you like a train or slowly drowns you in its weight. Maybe a mix of both - a crashing of a tsunami that simultaneously relieves your ache and steals your breath.

You’re sobbing, trembling, gasping for breath and trying to regain feeling from the clouds that seem to have replaced your nerves.

“You did so well.” Jason cooes. He’s sitting up, suckling your juices from his fingers like you were a decadent 5-star meal.

He moves to lay down beside you, pulling your body to curl into his, back to peppering your cheeks with chaste, affectionate kisses.

“Fuck, Jason.” You heave out, still slightly out of it.

“Was that okay? Did I get carried away?” He questions softly, concern lacing the green in his eyes.

“Yeah, no, that was great.” You quickly reassure him. “I just- wow. I need a moment.”

He chuckles quietly before holding you close to his body again. “So? Did I exceed your expectations?”

“Don’t get cocky. Hubris was the downfall of Macbeth.” You shuffle closer to him. “Speaking of cocky, is that a dagger - or are you just happy to see me?”

“I’m always happy to see you princess,” Jason croons. “but I am extremely rock hard right now, too.”

Your hands drift down his body, sensually tracing every muscle from his chest to his pelvis, before tugging off his boxers.

You swing your body on top of his, straddling his waist as you begin pumping his cock.

“Well then” You start, positioning yourself on top of his awaiting member, “O’ happy dagger, this is thy sheath…”

You start to sink down on him as you finish the quote, your words trailing off into a wanton moan.

“I’d yell at you for saying something so stupid if you weren’t fucking squeezing my cock right now.” Jason manages to huff out. His teeth are gritted, eyes shut as he tries not to cum at the sensation of you wrapped warm and tight around him.

His large hands settle on your waist as yours plant themselves on his chest for support.

“You have to admit, it’s clever wordplay.” You mewl, mind fuzzy from the sensation of his dick stretching you out.

Tingles shoot up your body as the pain dissolves into a delicious fullness. You crave friction, your very core feels like it's aching for it. In fact, you think you’ll go insane if you don’t start moving right now.

You carefully lift your hips up, before dropping back down again, repeating the motion over and over until you’ve built up a somewhat regular rhythm.

Moans ceaselessly flow from your lips, interspersed with mumbled swears and curses.

Your head is tipped forward, your hair falling into your face. Jason’s hand comes up to brush it back behind your ear, before gently cupping your cheek.

“You feel so good baby, fuck.” He grunts.

His other hand comes up to undo your bra, releasing your tits to him. Both palms move to cup them, kneading at the soft flesh before working your perked nipples with his fingers.

You still your movements with a whine, too confounded by the assault of stimulations you were feeling. That doesn’t mean that you’re not still desperate and yearning, though. Your thighs do their best to rub against each other, trying to chase friction despite your inaction.

It’s only as you rest that you feel how sore your legs have become, enough that you let out a pitiful mewl.

“Is my pretty baby tired?” Jason muses, while he’s still pinching and rolling your sensitive buds.

“Mhm,” You moan out in reply.

He quickly rolls the both of you over, laying you down onto your back again before flipping you onto your stomach.

You quickly shuffle onto your knees, arching back against him in wait.

“Good girl,” He laughs out. His palms rub against your cheeks, squeezing the flesh there before pulling back and giving it a slap.

It earns him a broken moan from your throat, and the view of your ass shaking in desperation.

It only makes him laugh again. “Have some patience, naughty girl.”

He spanks you again, and you keen so high-pitched and pretty that he can only relent to your demands.

Jason grips his cock and guides it to your wet folds, sliding it up and down before finally pushing in. You welcome him easily, pussy molding perfectly to his thick cock.

A hand settles on your waist while the other tangles into your hair. He yanks your head back as he starts fucking you hard and fast.

His hips smack hard against your ass with each thrust, slowly turning the skin there sore and heated. His cock is bullying its way in and out of you, the tip knocking against your sweet spot with a force that repeatedly knocks the breath and thoughts out of you.

Your eyes are rolled back, brain melted, as drool drips from your lips.

Chants of “fuck” and “Jay” are the only sounds your mouth remembers how to make now.

“Just keep saying my name like that, sweetheart.” Jason pants out.

He can’t believe how good you feel around him. You’re so warm and wet that his cock glides in and out so easy, making it effortless for him to abuse your poor cunt.

The hand in your hair guides you up to him, back pressed against his sweaty chest as he tilts your head and leans in for a kiss.

It’s messy with your spit and drool, both your movements uncoordinated and sloppy.

He fucks up into you all the while, gravity allowing him to hit harder and deeper inside you.

He can feel that you’re close again - your body is twitching against him, your cunt beginning to spasm.

The hand on your waist reaches to rub quick and hard circles against your clit, and you’re gone.

Your whole body shudders as you soak his cock, before going limp is his hold. It’s an intense buzzing sensation that overtakes you, settling deep in your veins until you’re trapped in a pleasing static. Your head is submerged in sticky syrup that makes it hard to think, so you just indulge in the calming weight of it.

Jason pulls out and gently maneuvers your dazed body back to the bed, hand working himself to completion before finishing on your stomach - his warm cum splattering on the skin as he lets out a husky grunt.

He stays there, catching his breath for a few moments before he disappears to the bathroom while you come down from your high, washing his hands and grabbing a damp towel to bring back to you.

He wipes you clean before poking your cheek until your gaze refocuses on him.

“How was it?” He cheekily smirks.

“I certainly died a lovely death in thy lap,” You chuckle.

“If you can still quote Shakespeare I didn’t fuck you dumb enough.” Jason frowns.

“Awh, cheer up, you big baby.” You reach out to pat his head endearingly, “I change my mind; your dick game is definitely better.”

“YES!” Jason fist-pumps like he just scored a touch-down and you smile at how stupid he looks. “Okay, now you go pee.” He shoos you away. “I’ll change the sheets and we can watch reruns of Gossip Girl again.”

“I would not wish any companion in the world but you.” You fake tear-up, wiping your eyes before giggling the whole way to the bathroom.

Thank you so much for reading! A comment or reblog is much appreciated. Have a great day <3

- sumi ☆ミ

ミ☆ masterlist

#sumi — works.#sumi — dc.#red hood smut #red hood x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #dc smut #dc x reader #mdni #sumi — my love.

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pumpkinbxtch · 2 months

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— two people, one umbrella ∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠° headcanons

the hoO boys when starts to rain and there's just one umbrella. ft. apollo

who's here: frank zhang, jason grace, leo valdez, percy jackson and apollo

warnings: none

a/n: its friday, so headcanons arrives here. kisses for y'all. enjoy.

— frank *⁠.⁠✧

This guy doesn't hesitate for a second, he's got you covered with the umbrella, most (if not all) of it.

"I don't want you getting sick," he says while holding the umbrella.

He's so tall he doesn't need to raise it any higher than necessary, and you keep pushing it toward the center so each of you gets at least a little covered.

He might pretend he's covered, but his shoulder is getting terribly soaked.

He's thinking about the shape-shift, imagining what it would be like if you had a canary on your shoulder while walking in the dry, safe rain.

But in the end, he obeys you. He takes your hand and tries to cover both of you (because he thought he might get sick, then you'd want to help him, and he doesn't want to bother you).

— jason *⁠.⁠✧

Once the umbrella is fully open, he figures out the best way for both of you to be covered, always putting you first in his mind.

He moves you in front of him, but he can see you might trip.

He considers just covering you, but he knows you'd both end up fighting and getting wet anyway.

So, he wraps his arm around your waist to pull you closer. Now, you're both under the umbrella, dry.

He smiles at you and takes advantage of the closeness to kiss your cheek and your knuckles.

“let me, my love” he says soflty if you try to help him with the umbrella.

He's the type to hold your hand and tuck it into his jacket to keep you warm.

Another thing he could do is control the air so the umbrella holds itself up and you can walk together even more comfortably.

— leo *⁠.⁠✧

"I already anticipated that!" he exclaimed when he saw that both of you weren't completely covered by the umbrella he was carrying and smiled eagerly at you.

He presses a button on the umbrella's handle and it expands even more, Hurray! You're both covered.

But...

As you continue walking on the sidewalk, Leo looks at other couples in similar positions, only much closer, cuddling and lovingly playing around, while the umbrella with the improvements he invented works so well that you even walk a bit away from him.

Oh no... :(

He wants to do those cheesy things with you too, and he plays the fool.

If a child of Hephaestus can fix something, they can also break it, so he presses the button too hard, for breaking it. The extra space is gone.

"What happened?" you ask confused, some drops start to wet your hair, and Leo smiles seeing how beautiful the dew looks on you,

he just shrugs "I don't know, I guess it doesn't work anymore" he says uninterestedly, and he pulls you to him impatiently,

definitely using some of his warmth so you don't get cold.

He adjusts himself, hugs you, and you walk together.

— percy *⁠.⁠✧

He literally gives a fuck if it rains or not, so the problem is, he never carries an umbrella.

But that's because he can control his waterproofing. If Percy Jackson doesn't want to get wet, he won't, but you're not him.

"Don't worry, babe," he says with a confident smile as you cover yourself with your hand from the increasingly heavy rain.

He bites his lips and looks above you, now the rain avoids you both, and you're no longer getting wet.

He winks at you, and you hug him sideways. Let the mist take care of what others see, and he leans in for a kiss. You give it to him.

suddenly feeling the drops hitting your hair again. For a few seconds, neither of you cares, and he hugs you, prolonging the kiss.

A kiss in the rain.

When the water trickles down your noses and you can taste some of those drops, you break apart with a giggle.

"Oops," he says, and he focuses again to keep you both rain-free.

Though you run to get home as soon as possible because for Percy, it's hard not to want to stop and kiss and cuddle you.

— apollo *⁠.⁠✧

He's a god, and the god of the Sun. He could literally make a few calls to get rid of that silly rain bothering his beloved.

But oh no, Apollo lives for the drama, for love, it's for the feelings he exist, so he conjures up an umbrella and covers you.

Apollo will definitely sing "Singing in the Rain" while dragging you along and giving you gentle spins.

For him, it's such a mundane moment, but because he's with you, he wants to turn it into the greatest musical ever told, because it's for the two of you and for him, it's better.

He takes your hand and swings it with great humor.

He's literally a sun walking on the streets full of people grumpy because of the bad weather and a gray, cloudy landscape.

When he sees you smile and chuckle, his spirit overflows with joy, and unintentionally, the sun appears among those clouds, and the rainbow makes a nice trio in the sky.

He gives you a peck on the lips when you raise your eyebrows at his mischief.

"I can't help it," he says with a smile and links your arm with his to continue the walk.

*⁠.⁠✧

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hotpinkstars · 2 months

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ESPRESSO - aventurine x reader

- "now he's thinkin' bout me, everynight, oh, is it that sweet? i guess so." or, how does aventurine do when he's in love?

- GUYS GUYS QUEEN SABRINA DROPPED A SINGLE i've been listening to this for days and i needed to write about it sooooooooooo yeah! anyways i'll get to writing probably a few requests tomorrow and wednesday (expect 4-5 posts between those days to make up for my absence) and yeahhhhhh enjoy!!

- aventurine might be a little ooc, mentions of his trauma (so penacony main quest spoilers), reader confesses at the end. wc 1067

Aventurine doesn’t know what to do when he first figures out that the feeling in his chest whenever he saw you was because he liked you. He probably tried to deny it, until Topaz caught him blushing like crazy after you walked away from the conversation you two had just finished. (Even then, she had to tell him, and then he spent a long time thinking that possibility through. She might have been right).

You plague his visions. Why does he always want something to do with you? Why does he always want to be in your space, but also never wants to see you again? You’ve noticed his weird behavior, considering you were one of the first people he’s ever genuinely called a friend, but didn’t really think too far into it.

Though, it didn’t stop you from paying more attention to it, that's for a fact. Sometimes you’d pay more attention to his body movements around you, the way he speaks, his etiquette, etc. You and Topaz communicate through it, and it’s a little bit different from his conversations with her.

You know he can be cocky. Like, very cocky. You know he’s not too afraid to talk back, to challenge someone to a gamble (spoiler he wins), and to be reckless. Though, you also know about his backstory. So you can kind of understand where he’s coming from.

He’s been pretty open with you about all of the things he’s endured. You know his real name, he’s described how his family has looked, and he’s described his years he endured slavery and what his home planet was like. You know about the Men in Black and the Katicans. And you know how traumatized he is.

Now, you’ve known him for a long, long time before this. You welcomed him into the IPC when Jade first announced his arrival, and you kind of showed him the ropes. He thought you seemed kind, so he stayed in contact with you.

You’ve watched him change, all of his progress through life, the hard times and the good times, and so much more. And that's what gets him the most, he thinks.

He never realized how much he trusted you until he realized he liked you. You know every single thing about this man, which was the reason why he was rather… nervous when he’d have to communicate with you face to face. He did a good job at keeping up his front he uses to talk to people, but you sensed a slight form of stress underneath all the layers he put up to look tough.

He lays awake, thinking about you. You’ve made part of his mind your home, and it’s the part he comes back to over and over again. You replay in his mind like a good song that he can’t get enough of- on, and on, and on, and on.

He does like to bring you little trinkets he finds pretty when he goes out in public to do some shopping. Considering how wealthy he is, he could probably afford to buy out the whole store, so if you even mention something you like to him, he’s on his way to find it for you. He likes to think of it as he’s buying your kindness, but you think something completely different. You enjoy his sudden gift giving, not just because of your gain, but because he thought about you enough to do such a thing. It always makes you slightly blush before laughing while opening the box presented in front of you. He thinks that's the most precious part about your time spent together; all of the opportunities he gets to listen to your gorgeous laughter and see your flawless smile. Topaz, pinch the man, he’s in his own personal dreampool.

Oh, how bad he wants to confess to you, but he’s really afraid of rejection. He fears losing you entirely, fears that you won’t look at him like you always do if he asked if you two could be a thing. He fears you’d think he was odd for wanting you to himself, and that you’d slowly back away until you refuse to even look at his broken, battered form any longer. The thought makes a shiver crawl up his back. He can’t lose you too.

All this man asks is to find a way to remove you from his head. You’re absolutely tormenting him! Notice how he’s been lacking on his work lately, always caught in a daze when he’s sitting down at his desk? That’s you he’s daydreaming about. He’s no good with his emotions. He knows how to hide sadness, fear, and anger, but he’s never been in this boat before. Love is a whole new concept to him.

“Aventurine, you’ve been out of it lately. Tell me, is something the matter?” You barge through the blonde's office, not even bothering to knock. You know you don’t have to, he’s never doing anything so significant in that tiny space that it needs to be kept private.

“What are you saying? Nothings up with me,” he drops his pen in the small plaster pen cup you bought for him. “Work has been tiring lately. Nothing to stress over.”

You plop into the chair in front of his desk, resting your arms on the top and putting your head in between your palms.

“I can tell when you lie. Tell the truth.”

He looks away. What was he supposed to say? That he couldn’t get you out of his brain, and that you’re the only thing he can focus on? That’ll scare you off for sure!

“Aventurine?? You there?” you wave a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his daze once more. “You know, you don’t have to lie. I already know what you’re thinking.”

His eyes slightly widen, just enough for you to notice. You giggle very lightly before continuing on with your sentence. “You have a little crush, don’t you? Don’t worry, I like you back. Seriously, I do.”

He doesn’t know how to reply to that. He doesn’t know if he wants to faint or make out with you right now. “So that makes us…?”

“I don’t know. We could remain friends, we could be boyfriend girlfriend, whatever you want. I don’t care.”

Well, he believes he already knows the answer he’s choosing.

#aventurine #kakavasha #aventurine x reader #kakavasha x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #star rail #star rail x reader

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jinnie-ret · 9 months

Text

scarred knees and insecurities

Stray Kids x Ninth Member!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

content warnings: insecurities, heat exhaustion, mean online comments

word count: 2.7k

summary: when the old scars from your youth, become fresh wounds in your adulthood, the boys are there to pick up the pieces.

100 followers special!!! Thank you so much for all your support so far, I hope you enjoy this imagine! I personally share this same insecurity and although I have played it up more for this imagine, I hope that nothing said will offend anyone, I've just written it from my perspective.

As always, asks are open! Let me know what you want to read next! Enjoy! :)

MAIN MASTERLIST

"Annyeong, Stay!" Y/N greeted the fans as she started streaming on YouTube. She was currently in one of the practice rooms at JYP, ready to dance for stays as she normally did when she went live. She was relaxed in some casual clothes, a big t-shirt and some shorts too.

"What song shall I dance to first?" Y/N grinned at the camera as she read the comments.

"Oh- who said WAP?!" Y/N laughed and shook her head, "Stays you can't be talking like that!"

She got up and started dancing, not to WAP, but to their new song Social Path. Anyways, they weren't allowed to play music outside of their company anymore, so it only felt right.

Finishing the dance, Y/N panted lightly, crouched over with her hands on her knees. As she took a sip of water, sat with her knees bent in front of the camera, certain comments started catching her eyes, no matter how much she tried to act normal and answer questions.

What's wrong with her knees

Ew but why do they look like that

Their knees look so old and wrinkly

Y/N needs to get that checked out it looks so unnatural

Just another reason why she's ugly

Of course, there were actual questions, with Stays giving song recommendations and asking Y/N about what she had been doing recently, but she couldn't help but catch sight of the mean comments. She shifted her body so that her knees were off screen, maybe then the harsh words would lessen.

Look, she's hiding them because she's realised how disgusting she is

Disgusting?

Y/N bit her lip and cleared her throat, but decided she didn't want to force herself to sit there in front of millions of fans when she was trying not to let her thoughts spiral.

"I'm feeling kinda tired guys so I'm going to end the live now, bye!" Y/N blew a kiss like always at the camera and sighed as she ended the live.

She had thought about it a couple of times, she wasn't all too fond of the way her knees looked either. But it always felt different and hurt more when someone else points out your insecurities. Her knees had visible scars on them from how clumsy she was as a child. You could see them stick out yet they were healed over and so had blended in with her skin tone. The other thing was that often she'd find after kneeling down or having pressure on her knees, there'd be a redness or slight colour change to them.

Absentmindedly scratching over the bumps of her scars, Y/N looked up when she heard a slight tap on the door.

It was Hyunjin.

"Why did you end your live early? I was enjoying watching you dance," he pouted at her, clearly in a playful mood as he flopped down beside her in the practice room.

"Don't know, guess I just felt tired," Y/N shrugged. She wasn't tired really, just currently feeling low in her mood.

She jolted as he put his head in her lap, in attempt to look up at her face.

"You're acting all quiet, Y/Nnie," Hyunjin commented, hand stroking her knee comfortingly as he knew this was one of her tells when she wasn't feeling too happy.

Yet this action didn't have the same effect as normal. Y/N moved his hand off of her legs and did a fake shiver.

"It's cold in here..." Y/N rubbed her bare legs, hiding her knees before standing once Hyunjin had removed himself from her.

"I've got some spare clothes, it's in my bag in the other room, come on," Hyunjin patted her on the head gently, before resting his hand against her back as he guided her out of the room.

He wasn't silly. He could tell that Y/N wasn't quite feeling herself at the moment, and the best thing him or any of the other boys could do was treat her gently, that's what she always needed when it came to things like this.

A few days later, Stray Kids were set to do a photoshoot on the beach, perfect for a hot day. Well, as long as they didn't get too hot...

Y/N scanned the clothes that were on the rack in the dressing room with her stylist. She smiled as she caught sight of a beautiful white and blue dress, it fitting their cute casual concept perfectly.

"Oh, Y/N we won't be needing that one today, we've got a better option instead," the stylist fanned her own face, feeling the heat too as she passed over a small pile of clothes to Y/N. It consisted of a heavy pair of jeans, alongside a baby tee with a cute graphic of a heart on it. Now that, she could get behind, she thought the tee was adorable, but the heavy jeans? It was such a hot day.

"But everyone else is wearing shorts, wouldn't it be better if I did too-" Y/N began, before the stylist sympathetically patted her hand, yet it came across as being more condescending than anything.

"Honey, we're just doing what the fans will like best, like wearing jeans instead of anything more revealing, you know, because of your knees," she said, before turning around and sorting through other clothes so that Y/N could change.

What she hated the most was how the stylist's words trailed off into a whisper, like she was ashamed, like Y/N should be ashamed of her body. The company were aware of the comments that had been made online, and just after Y/N was building herself back up and ignoring the thing she can't change, this happened.

Dejectedly, she put on her assigned outfit, and left to head outside in the sweltering heat to join the boys.

"Y/Nnie come stand with me!" Felix dragged her next to him happily. The boys had noticed her mood get better the past few days but being the sunshine he is, he noticed that she was once again in the same low mindset.

"Y/N, aren't you... too hot in that?" Changbin rested a hand on her shoulder as he looked at the heavy jeans she was wearing, fabric slumped over at the top of her trainers.

"No, no, this is fine, it was picked especially for me," Y/N lightly smiled, trying to paint her face to seem content when really she was already sweating, causing a makeup artist to run over and quickly powder her face. Y/N couldn't hide the slight truth in her words, and she was silly to think the small bitterness didn't come through in her tone.

"Okay, just be careful, it's too hot to be wearing those, seriously..." Changbin nodded before returning to where he was previously stood, clearly not happy with the situation his younger member had been put in.

Felix side hugged her before they did their group photos first, the others expressing their confusion for the clothes she was wearing.

"Y/N! You must be so hot!" Han audibly gasped, and all she could do was shrug at him, not really having the words to respond, feeling too hot and overwhelmed at the moment to really think.

"Solo photos now!" the director called out, and one by one they posed, Y/N being the last one to head up, as they were going in age order. As Jeongin stepped up for his turn, Y/N scanned around her for some water she could have, seeing black spots enter her vision slowly.

"Here. Drink, or you'll be too tired to even stand," Seungmin appeared with a bottle of water in front of her, sarcasm coming across through his words as he didn't seem to realise how bad she really was feeling, and that she was too tired to stand.

"Thanks, Seungminnie," she mumbled, drinking it quickly as he nodded and walked away, going to change out of his clothes.

"Yah, you'll choke if you keep this up," Lee Know took the bottle from her hands as he crouched down next to her.

"Just thirsty," Y/N fanned herself as she leant back in her chair.

"You sure that's it? Looks like something else is going on too," Lee Know took one of her hands gently, rubbing a thumb across her knuckles.

"Y/Nnie it's your turn!" Jeongin happily walked over, informing his fellow member yet taking away the chance of gaining more information from his other.

Lee Know sighed as Y/N stood up, standing at the beach bar setup first.

Her movements were slow, yet she was sure it looked casual enough to not seem like she was on the verge of wanting to collapse from the heat. Little did she know, a certain leader had been diligently watching her the whole time. He had inquired about the outfit to the stylists and was annoyed when they said Y/N picked it herself. He knew that wasn't the truth.

"Y/N, turn your head to the left a bit! To the left, turn your head to the left," the director frustratedly said through the megaphone, catching the attention of all the members who were now watching.

But Y/N couldn't really hear what was happening around her. She was more focused on trying to stand up straight right now, panting lightly as she did so.

"The director is being a bit harsh..." Hyunjin whispered to Jeongin, who nodded back in response.

"But she's not acting herself either, look," Jeongin nodded towards the girl, who couldn't seem to keep her head up straight.

"Channie hyung, something is wrong with Y/Nnie," Felix said to his fellow Australian member, frowning as he watched the girl.

"I know. As soon as she's done with her photos I'm going to ask-" Chan turned his head away for one second as he spoke to Felix.

One second.

One second he stopped watching over her, and now she was on her knees, leant against the fake bar as she pulled at the collar of her t-shirt for some air.

Gasps rang out from around the room as both Stray Kids and the staff rushed to help Y/N.

"I knew there was something wrong," Chan shook his head as he started patting Y/N's face with a wet towel provided by the staff.

"Y/N, can you hear us?" Changbin hovered around them, concerned at the state she was in.

It all sounded so muffled to Y/N. She had felt that she had been moved into a position where she was laying down, felt slight relief from the cooler feeling on her face, but her eyes were still resting shut. She managed to let out a groan in response, which offered a light sense of peace before they realised they needed to do more.

"We need to get her inside in an air conditioned room or something!" Chan commanded the staff, as he lifted her up after they nodded and he laid her down on a sofa, the other members following through.

"She needs to get out of these jeans, who's big idea was that?" Seungmin huffed, irritated.

"Let me," a female staff member gestured for the boys to turn away as she and another stylist quickly changed Y/N out of her jeans and into some shorts, letting the boys know they could turn around once more.

They had a fan pointed at Y/N as they tried to get her to sip from some water.

"Come on, Y/Nnie, just slow sips, yeah?" Hyunjin held the bottle with a straw to Y/N's face, a hand under her chin tilting her head ever so slightly so water wouldn't spill down her.

Lee Know tied her hair back, soothingly stroking it back before he gathered it all out of the way.

Y/N's eyes opened wide, feeling a bit better as she had cooled down now. But she saw that her knees were exposed and being in the vulnerable state she was, she grabbed a blanket and covered her knees, her mind going 100 mph and all it could think was that the boys thought she was disgusting.

"No, you don't need a blanket, Y/Nnie, you're too hot right now, that won't help," Han grabbed her hands and held them against her stomach lightly, feeling concerned when her eyes became glossy with tears.

Y/N shook her head, not yet finding the words to explain what she was feeling.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" Chan's voice broke through all of her thoughts, the oldest member being someone she could always rely on.

"They're ugly," she mumbled, eyes darting back and forth between her legs and Han's hands holding onto her own.

"What are?" Felix asked confused, looking back and forth between the boys as they all seemed to be catching onto why you had been feeling a bit low the last couple of days.

"My knees. Got scars on them. They're disgusting. Don't want you to have to see them," Y/N rushed out, feeling the grip round her hands tighten ever so slightly and a hand brush through her hair soothingly.

"Now why would you say something so stupid?" Lee Know sighed, hating how she was thinking.

"Don't call her stupid," Hyunjin whacked Lee Know on the shoulder.

"It's fine, it's silly really. B-but Stays didn't like it so why would you?" Y/N bit her lip, still unable to make eye contact with the boys.

"Y/Nnie, look at me," Chan sat in front of her, and reluctantly she looked at their leader. "Is this why you were put in that outfit?" his tone dropped lower, despising how one of his members had been put in such a position for something out of their control.

"The company agreed too... I didn't want to wear it but I guess it was for the best..." Y/N said unsurely, not really knowing how to explain the situation.

"Not when you nearly passed out from the heat!" Changbin exclaimed.

"Y/N, there is nothing wrong with you, okay? Nothing about you is disgusting. They're just from when you were a kid, right? You can't control that," Chan said softly as he rubbed her shoulder soothingly.

"I just hate how they look and then when Stays started pointing it out it made me remember how much I hate them," Y/N frowned and looked at her knees distastefully.

"They're not real Stays if they're making horrible comments like that," Seungmin pointed out, as the rest of the boys nodded in agreement.

"Plus if people are always staring at your knees, that's kind of weird," Jeongin laughed, which brought a smile to Y/N's face.

"I guess so," Y/N nodded, the grin still there.

"Aw there's that smile," Changbin cooed, squishing her cheeks together.

"Hyung, she's not a baby," Han laughed at Changbin's antics.

"But, Y/N, just know, it's okay to have insecurities, we all have them, it doesn't make you weird or mean that there is something wrong with you. But this is not the way things should have happened, please talk to us next time. I know it was the company that decided for you today, and trust me, I will be having words with them about this... but please don't obsess over this, yeah?" Chan hugged her to him, resting his head on hers as he talked to her, wanting her to know that they were a safe space for her.

"Okay, okay, I'll try," Y/N nodded as she relaxed against Chan.

"Good. And just know, whatever type of scars you have, it doesn't define you, and they're certainly not ugly. Everyone has some, whether they're visible or not," Changbin patted her knee, being slightly more serious in contrast to him babying her ten seconds ago.

"Woah, hyung, that was deep," Hyunjin clapped.

"Our Changbinnie is so good," Han said in a high pitched voice, causing the older member of 3RACHA to jokingly raise his fist at his dongsaeng.

"Thanks guys, I mean it," Y/N said sincerely with a relaxed smile to the rest of the boys who weren't caught up in the chaos. Let's be honest, it wouldn't be Stray Kids without any chaos, it just wouldn't be right.

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lacroixwh0r3 · 11 months

Text

The First Taste

DBF!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: You meet Joel, your dad's best friend, for the first time after your dad begged you to join them at the lake to keep Sarah company. Both you and Joel become fascinated by each other the moment the two of you met.

Warnings: SMUT!!! DUB CON, heavy sexual tension, drug usage (weed only), petnames, age gap (Joel is 36 and reader is 21), masturbation (F and M), fingering, voyerism, daddy kink, dom!Joel, Joel is a perv and an asshole, cursing, swimming??, no outbreak

Song inspo (feel free to read if you want): The First Taste by Fiona Apple

PART 2 PART 3

A/N: This takes place four years before Blow My Load, but can be read as a standalone.

Please share, comment, like, and reblog...enjoy lovies! <33

"Dad, I thought it was supposed to be a "boy's trip," and the last time I checked, I am not a boy." You point at your body as you tell your dad. For some reason, he is begging you to come to the lake with him and his friends the day before they leave. "Why won't you just tell me why you want me to go? And maybe I'll give you an answer."

You finally got him to crack.

Your dad let out a defeated sigh as he scratched the back of his head and avoided eye contact. You mentally prepared yourself for whatever bullshit your dad was about to say. "Well, you see, honey, one of the guys couldn't get a babysitter for his kid, and I offered you to keep her company." He winced.

And there it is. The thing he was holding back from you

You let out a sarcastic chuckle. You really couldn't believe this shit. "Are you serious, dad? I refuse to babysit some random kid because you offered me up without even asking me first!" You exclaimed at him. "I don't even know a damn thing about this kid."

"Look, I know it was wrong for me to do that, sweetheart, but I swear Sarah is a good kid. Most of the time she has her headphones in and minds her business." He tries to reason with you, almost pleading with you. You began to feel bad for blowing up on him like that, but it really did piss you off that you had to watch someone else's kid. "I'll even pay you."

This weekend, you planned on doing nothing but self-care. You wanted to do nothing but stay home, watch movies, get a mani and pedi, go get a massage, drink, and maybe even play with the new toy you just bought yourself at Spencers.

You feel yourself giving into your dad; it wasn't the money that made you say yes, but the fact that he always found a way to make you feel bad, even if he didn't mean to do it. "Ugh, fine!" You scoff as you turn to look away from him. From the corner of your eye, you can see his body perk up.

Your dad lets out a sigh of relief, saying, "Thank you so much, sweetheart! You're such a lifesaver; you know that, right?" He slaps your shoulder playfully, causing you to shrug it off and narrow your eyes at him playfully as well.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. How old is your friend's daughter, anyway?" You asked him, unfazed by it all.

"I think she's around 14?" Your dad said cluelessly. "Not too bad, right? I'm sure that you can find something to talk about with her."

It wasn't that bad, but what the fuck would you, a 21-year-old, have in common with a 14–15-year-old girl?

"I guess. I'm gonna start getting my stuff all packed up," You tell him as you turn around to go up to your room.

"Alright, sweetheart, and thanks again!" He exclaims to you as you make your way farther up the steps.

"Yup!" You yell it out dismissively.

As much as you hated the circumstances, you were happy you were finally able to get away for a little bit.

...

It was the next day, and you were tired as hell after only getting four hours of sleep. You had spent all night packing and stressing about what you were going to wear. It wasn't like you were trying to impress anyone, but this was your first time meeting your dad's friends, and you wanted to look decent.

You had left it up to your dad to pack your things into the car as you were too tired to do anything besides shower, put your clothes on, and lay back down for a little until it was time to go. As you lay face down on the bed, knocked out, you heard your dad knock on the door. "Hey, kiddo, are you ready to head out?" He asked you as he stood at the door.

You slowly sit up on your bed as you yawn and stretch your arms over your head. "Yeah, let me just get up and grab my purse and stuff."

"Got it." Your dad says this before turning around and making his way downstairs.

After moments of sitting on your bed, stairing into space, you got up, grabbed your purse, and began to leave your room. However, on your way to the door, you see the pouch that contained your weed and weed paraphernalia. You hesitantly swiped it from your dresser, dropped it into your bag, and went downstairs.

If the men got to have their fun, why couldn't you?

Once you get to the last step, you hear your dad saying bye to someone on the phone before turning to you. "My buddy, Joel, just got to the lake house, so we should start headin' out." He says this as he grabs his keys and motions for you to follow him to the door.

After making sure the security alarm was set and locking the door, the two of you were finally on your two-hour journey to the lake house.

...

You and your dad finally made it to the lake house. It was a three story house that sat on top of a hill, surrounded by nothing but trees.

You and your dad hop out of the car and start bringing your bags to the front door. All of a sudden, the moment you sat the last bag down and brought your fist up to knock at the door, it swung open, revealing a man who looked to be in his early 30s with short, dark, curly hair.

Beside him was a woman with long locs, smiling warmly at you. Meanwhile, the man looked at you with confusion, trying to piece together who you were. You looked familiar to him, but he couldn't put a name to your face.

"Tommy!" Your dad said loudly behind you. You could hear the excitement in his voice as he greeted him. Tommy's eyes moved to look behind you at your dad, and his eyes lit up.

"Oh man, y'all come on in!" He opened the door wider as he and the unnamed woman moved out of the way to allow you to walk in first, followed by your dad. "I'll grab the rest of the bags out there." Tommy says.

Tommy brought the bags in as your dad greeted the lady. "Hey, Maria!" He asked her as he gave her a side hug. "I didn't know you were gonna be joining us this weekend as well."

So that was her name.

"I didn't think I was going to be joining either. Tommy invited me last minute, so I just decided to take some time off of work," She replies back.

They stood near the entrance as they began to get deeper into the conversation, talking about God knows what, leaving you standing there awkwardly as you watched them. You decided to take that moment to observe the room. Even though the house was spacious, it still had a cozy feel to it.

As you were in your own world, your dad gently slapped his hand on your shoulder unexpectedly. "And this young lady right here is my daughter." He smiles at the two as Maria and Tommy turn their attention to you.

"Nice to meet you, kid," He says as he offers his hand to shake yours, which you accept. You shake hands with him before dropping them to your side. Tommy then points to Maria. "This is my wife, Maria."

You shake hands with her as well while you tell them your name. "It's so great to meet you two!" You beam at the couple.

They begin to ask you a series of questions about yourself, such as what university you attended, what your major was, and so on, to which you gladly answer.

However, in the midst of your conversation, your words are abruptly interrupted by the sound of the sliding door opening, followed by heavy footsteps. "And here comes my asshole brother, Joel, and my niece, Sarah," Tommy says to you, prompting both you and your dad to look behind you. You can hear Maria let out a loud laugh at Tommy's words.

Your eyes immediately focused on him as he got closer to you, not even paying attention to the fact that his daughter was right behind him as well.

The man named Joel had short, dark, curly hair like Tommy’s; the only difference is that he is a lot shorter, and the roots of his hair were slightly gray at his temples. Joel also had a patchy beard with a thick mustache. He has this rugged and mysterious look to him that completely enraptures you.

He and your dad greet each other, giving a quick bro hug and pulling away. Joel then turns to you, and you feel your hands quiver. His dark, dominant eyes intensify the intimidating aura that surrounds him, yet it still makes him even more interesting to you.

Holy hell, you think to yourself. This man is so fucking fine.

You continued to stare at Joel, saying absolutely nothing, until you realized that he was giving you a confused look as if he were waiting for something. Your eyes darted down, and you realized that he had his hand out, waiting for you to shake it. You felt your face heat up with embarrassment as you went to shake his hand.

"Joel," was all he said as the two of you shook hands before he let go and discreetly rubbed his hands into his shirt. You could feel yourself shrink with embarrassment as he did this. Not only did he not even give you a chance to introduce yourself, but he wiped his hands after shaking yours.

What a fucking jerk! Tommy was right; he is an asshole.

You quickly snapped out of your feelings when you realized that Sarah was now in front of you. She wore a pink crop top and jean shorts, while her curly hair was placed in a low ponytail.

She suddenly brings you in for a hug with a massive smile on her face, catching you off guard. Nonetheless, you still happily return the hug.

"I'm Sarah. It's nice to meet you!" Unlike Joel, Sarah was a lot more friendly with you. She had this radiant energy to her that made you wonder where she got it from because it definitely wasn't from Joel's grumpy ass. You tell her your name.

"It's nice to meet you as well, Sarah!" I return a smile back to her. She seems like the sweetest 14-year-old you've ever met. "I think we're gonna get along just fine this weekend."

"We sure are!"" She agrees.

"Sarah, sweetheart, how've you been?" Your dad asked her.

As your dad began to talk to Sarah, you decided to check Joel out while he listened to the conversation, occasionally putting in his two cents. Unlike the rest of the group, Joel wore a dark gray shirt, jeans, and some boots.

How is he not hot?

I mean, he is hot, but I meant temperature-wise, you think, causing yourself to let out a low chuckle.

You guess you said that out loud because Joel’s head, along with Maria's, Sarah's, and Tommy's, suddenly snapped over to you with eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Your dad's voice slowly began to fade when he saw the mortified expression on Sarah's face.

"Wait, what happened?" Your dad asked cluelessly as he looked around the group. He was so in his own world that he didn't hear what you said. Thank-fucking-goodness. "Everyone just stopped talking all of a sudden."

"Nothing!" You quickly tell him as you give him a disengenious smile before looking at everyone else. Sarah looked embarrassed for you, as Tommy and Maria still looked shocked. You get a glimpse of Joel as you wince in embarrassment and close your eyes; he had this smug look on his face.

You gathered that Tommy obviously loves to fuck around with people because he let out a stifled laugh, causing his wife to slap his arm and tell him to shut up.

You just wanted to die right then and there. This is now the second time today you've embarrassed yourself in front of this sexy ass man.

Your dad, being the clueless person he is, continues on with whatever he is talking about, not even realizing that no one is paying attention to him. Maria interrupts your dad as she clears her throat to catch your attention. She had a sympathetic look on her face. "Sweetie, your room is on the second floor next to, uh, Joel's, if you wanna get settled in," She offered to you. "We're going to head out to the lake and start putting some things on the grill around 2 or so." You just nodded your head because you were too afraid to speak.

"Hey, Joel?" Tommy looked at his brother with a teasing look on his face. "Why don't you go show her to her room, yeah?" He nods his head in the direction of the staircase.

You wished that you could just punch Tommy across the face at this very moment.

"Umm yeah..." Joel agrees slowly as he gives Tommy a dirty look before glancing at you. "Follow me," You nodded your head and grabbed your purse and other bags. As you followed Joel, the group quietly picked up their conversation again.

Without saying a word to each other, you and Joel arrive in the room. He steps aside, allowing you to enter, and turns around to make his way down the hallway to go back downstairs, but you quickly stopped him before he could get any further. "Hey, I'm sorry about what happened down there." You apologized to him. "I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable or anything."

Joel just turns around and gives you a small smirk. "Oh, darlin', I'm far from uncomfortable. I'm actually flattered...more than flattered as a matter of fact." He winks at you before departing down the hallway, leaving you shocked.

You were somewhat relieved that Joel wasn't disgusted by you, but it still didn't help with your embarrassment as much as you hoped it would.

You scanned the room, taking in the room that you were going to be spending your weekend sleeping in. The walls were painted a light gray. There was a queen-sized bed that looked really comfortable and had bedside tables on each side as well as a TV, which was mounted onto the wall opposite the bed. There was a door that led to a balcony. You could see an overview of the calm lake and the tall trees. It was a beautiful view.

...

It's been a while since you went downstairs with everyone. You were still so embarrassed by the incident this morning that you decided to spend most of your time scrolling through social media and catching up with your college friends. The only time you came out of the room was to go to the bathroom.

You eventually rolled out of bed and worked up the courage to join everyone.

After changing your clothes that you had on earlier and putting on your swim suit, you slipped on your oversized shirt, put on some waterproof mascara, and put on some lip gloss.

You made sure to grab your sunglasses, put on your flip-flops, and jogged down the steps.

Once you got down there, you realized that Maria was in the kitchen. You headed towards her, quickly greeting her. "Hi, Maria," You say while positioning yourself behind the chairs on the island. She was gathering something that she needed to put outside.

"Hey, sweetheart!" Maria happily greets you back with a smile as she turns her attention to you. "How're you feeling?" She asked you gingerly as she looked at you with sympathy. Her goal wasn't to embarrass you; she truly wanted to know if you were okay after earlier.

You felt yourself begin to get flustered. "I'm fine. Thanks for asking." You sheepishly replied. You avoided her eyes, beginning to feel awkward.

"Of course. They're out in the back; you should join them." She points to the sliding door. You just nodded your head and made your way to the door. Before you went out there, you stood there looking outside. You could see Joel's tall figure standing over the grill as he flipped the meat and sipped on his beer.

You felt yourself getting nervous just looking at him.

You then looked and saw your dad helping Joel take the food off the grill and start to place it on the table. Meanwhile, Sarah and Tommy sat at the table, talking to each other. Whatever Tommy had said made them let out loud laughs, causing Joel quickly turned around, let out a chuckle, and shook his head. He then went back to putting things on the rest of the food on the serving platter.

His smile is so gorgeous, it almost takes your breath away.

"Are you going out, sweetheart?" Maria asked behind you, startling you. You had forgotten that she was still here.

You turned to her as you began to stammer over your words and realized that her hands were full with plasticware and plates. "Do you need me to help you take those?" You asked her without even answering her question.

"I do actually," She just looked at you with a questionable look before speaking up again. "Can you just grab the forks and spoons from the top and place them on the table out there, please?" She asked. You grabbed the utensils before turning back around and opening the door.

They didn't notice you at first until Sarah caught sight of you and loudly called out your name as you got closer, causing Joel to look over at you as he closed the grill's top.

"Sarah!" You exclaimed dramatically. Once you reached the table, you sat the plasticware down and went over to sit next to her.

You noticed that her hair was wet and that she was wrapped in a towel. "What've you been up to, girlfriend?" You asked her as you sat down in the seat.

"Nothing much; I just took a quick dip in the lake, and now I am starving," Sarah whined out as she looked over at her dad, who was coming over with the food.

You can hear the sound of Joel's heavy feet approaching behind you and stopping at the free seat at the end of the table, which was next to you. He first put the food in the middle of the table, then plopped himself down. We all began to put things on our plates and begin eating.

Tommy grumbled something about starving, causing Sarah to make a joke about how he was always starving. In reply, Tommy stuck his tongue out at the young girl in a teasing manner.

As Joel ate, he was manspreading under the table. You could feel his hairy, bare leg graze against yours, making you move your leg away. Joel wiped his mouth with the napkin, took a sip of his beer, and looked at you with a blank stare, not saying anything.

You decided to speak up and compliment him on the food. "Joel, this is really good," You smile. Everyone hummed in agreement as they ate.

"Why thank you, darlin'?" Joel says, going back to eating.

...

After eating, we all sat there with our tummies full as we sat around talking about whatever came to mind. That was until Sarah ran into the house without saying a word.

"Oh goodness, that girl." He sat back as he watched his daughter running around the house through the sliding door before running back outside with a box of Uno cards.

"Who wants to play?" She asked the whole table as she ran to her seat and plopped down.

We all agreed. She began to shuffle the cards, dealt them out to everyone, and then set up the game. It first started with you, Joel, Maria, Tommy, then your dad, and lastly Sarah.

Sarah was the first one to get Uno, even though she had the most cards at one point. We all accused her of cheating, which she was quick to deny. No one at the table believed her, especially Tommy and Maria. She just rolled her eyes and helped your dad while he was stuck figuring out which cards to play next.

While the two silently argued about which card was the best, you looked over at Joel and saw that all his cards were showing. You looked around and noticed that no one was paying attention to his cards. Tommy and Maria were sitting there watching your dad and Sarah.

"You're bleedin', Joel," you whisper to him as you point to his card. His face scrunched up with confusion as to what you meant. He looked down at himself and saw no blood.

"What, sugar? I ain't bleedin' anywhere," He said as he tried to recall if he had maybe scraped himself anywhere, but it wasn't coming to him. You couldn't help, but laugh at his confusion.

"It means your cards are showing, Joel." You giggled at him as he chuckled a bit and put his cards up so that he wasn't "bleeding" anymore.

"That's so stupid, who taught you that?" You just shrugged your shoulders at his question and looked back over to see if your dad had finally picked up his card yet.

"Oh my gosh, this isn't rocket science, dad! Just pick a card already!" You exclaimed it, causing everyone to laugh.

"I'm tryin', I'm tryin'!" Your dad waved you off as he went back to silently arguing with Sarah about which card to choose.

The game got drawn out longer than it was supposed to because every other minute someone (usually Tommy) would start arguing about another person cheating. And in the end, Tommy lost the game.

We put the cards away as everyone except for Maria decided to hang out by the dock and take a swim. She said something about having to get on the phone with a client of hers, but she would come join us when she was done and would bring popsicles.

You and Sarah walked in front of your dad, Joel, and Tommy until you yelled out, "Beat you there!" to Sarah as you both haphazardly ran down the steps to get to the dock.

"You girls, be careful down those stairs now! Don't want y'all gettin' hurt," Joel yells out from behind. The two of you don't respond or slow down; you just keep giggling and running. Joel had to suppress a smile from appearing on his face. It brought him joy to hear how much fun Sarah was having with you.

Once you make it to the dock, Sarah flings off her towel and jumps into the lake with a squiel before she goes under water and floates back up. You quickly kick off your flip flops, throw your sunglasses down, and take off your shirt. Unlike Sarah, you didn't jump into the water, you sat down on the dock and scooched into the water.

Oh, come on! You should've jumped in!" She says this to you as she splashes you with water. You splashed her back.

"I'm too afraid, Sar-bear!" You yelled out to her, and she gasped. The men appeared from the concrete steps just as she did so. Joel dropped the towels in his arms before walking over in front of us, while your dad and Tommy moved to the other side of the dock with their beers and their folding chairs.

"Dad, can you believe that she's too afraid to jump into the water?" Sarah yells out to her dad.

He looked down at you from the dock with his hands on his hips and cocked his head to the side in confusion. "Really? It's not that scary, sweetheart," He tells you.

"Then how about you get in, Joel?" You say to him without even thinking.

"Yeah, come on, dad. Get in and show her how it's done!" Sarah yells out as she encourages her dad to get in.

You watched Joel as he took off his shoes and shirt, all while keeping his eyes on you. You couldn't help but suck in a breath and bite your bottom lip when he pulled off his shirt. You got a glimpse of his shirtless chest. Joel wasn't the most muscular man, but whatever his job was, it kept him fit, and you loved it. Your eyes quickly scanned over his neck, then his broad shoulders.

Those damn shoulders of his. You wished you could hold onto them as you rode on his co-

Your thoughts were abruptly shattered when Joel took a big leap into the lake, causing a splash of water to hit your face and go up your nose. You tried to make an attempt at turning your head, but it was too late. You coughed as you tried to clear the water from your lungs. As you do so, Joel comes up from beneath the water.

He gasped as he allowed the air back into his lungs and used his big hands to wipe his face. Once he noticed that you were coughing, he quickly swam over to you with a look of concern.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He asked you as you let out one last cough and nodded your head. He brought his hand up to stroke the side of your head and gave you this tender look before pulling away when he noticed that Sarah was coming over.

If it were just you and Joel on the lake, he would've probably pulled you into his body and placed a soft kiss on your lips.

Even though he had just gotten into the lake, Joel decided to get out before he did something that he would regret.

"Alright, girls. I'm gonna get out now." He says more to Sarah than to you. Once again, you just nodded your head at him. You knew that if you spoke, you'd embarrass yourself again.

"Wha-Dad! You literally just got in." She tries to convince him, but he just shook his head and grabbed onto the rails. He pulls himself up with a grunt and walks onto the dock.

"I'll get back in in a little bit." He dismissed her as he went to get a towel.

Sarah began to say something to you as she swam around you, but you were too focused on Joel to listen to what she was saying. She was too busy talking to notice that you weren't listening. Your attention was stuck on Joel, and his wet shorts stuck to his surprisingly nice ass. He then turns around as he dries off. Your eyes drifted down and widening when you saw his bulge. You were taken aback by the sight.

Oh my god, you thought to yourself.

You looked back up at his face to realize that Joel was already staring at you and smirking while he wrapped the towl around his waist.

Oh fuck!

He obviously saw you staring at his cock because he was fucking smirking.

Joel walked over to have a seat with his brother and your dad. You diverted your attention back to Sarah, acting as if you knew what she was talking about. You just nodded your head a couple of times, and she believed it, but again, your mind drifted.

You were thinking about her dad; snap out of it for Christ's sake.

For the rest of your time at the lake, you refused to look at Joel. And just as promised, Maria finally joined you all about an hour later with the popsicles she said she would bring. Once we ate them, Maria convinced the other adults to have a swim in the lake, to which they all agreed after some groans and pressure from her and Sarah.

...

After spending most of the afternoon outside, everyone went off to do their own thing. Sarah decided to take a shower and then go to sleep while your dad, Tommy, and Maria opted to go out to a bar that a local had told them about, and Joel refused to go out tonight because he said that he was beat from the lake. As for you, you took a quick shower and decided to watch the sunset on the balcony that was connected to your room and smoke.

Before slipping onto the balcony, you grabbed a preroll and a lighter from the pouch, your headphones, and a water bottle from the bed.

When you first got here, you didn't notice that there was a door connected to the balcony that led to Joel's room. However, the sheer curtains were closed, so you could only assume that he was asleep, meaning it was safe for you to smoke without him seeing you. You sat down on the lounge chair, put your headphones on, turned on some music, and began your session.

After two hits of the preroll, you felt the effects of the weed. Your body began to relax, and your eyelids felt slightly heavy. As you continued smoking, you couldn't escape the thought of Joel. You know that he is your dad's friend, and you would never think to go after him, but you have to admit that he is an attractive older man. Just your type.

You barely spoke to him throughout the couple of hours you had been there, yet you could tell the type of man he was. He is very reserved, doesn't speak unless spoken to, and likes to observe. Joel is respectful, but he didn't take shit from anyone. It was very visible that he was protective of not only Sarah but also Tommy.

Everything about him drew you in more and more.

With a few more hits of your preroll, you see a figure standing in the corner of your eye just a few feet away from you, causing you to quickly pull off your headphones and flick the preroll from your fingers and off the balcony. You look over to see Joel watching you with his eyebrows frowned and his hands on his hips. Your eyes widen with shock.

"Shit! I mean, hey, Joel..." You smile up at him awkwardly, trying to seem as sober as possible. "What are you doing out here?" You asked him in a sickly sweet voice. He continues to stare at you before answering.

"I just came out here to check on you. Heard you out here, so I decided to see what you were up to." Joel grumbles as he switches his weight to his other foot.

You prayed that Joel didn't know you were out here smoking weed; your dad would kill you if he heard about you doing this. Little did you know that your attempt would be a complete failure. As soon as Joel walked outside, he could smell the smoke and aroma of weed. He could also see your bloodshot eyes.

"Oh, yknow, nothing much really, just out here enjoying the view and listening to music!" You say this while waving your hand, gesturing to the view in front of both of you. You visibly cringe after this sentence because, even though it was the truth, it wasn't the full truth. He seemed to buy it, so you relaxed a bit.

"Mm, you enjoyed yourself today?" he asked.

"Yeah, I had a lot of fun today. Sarah definitely made it fun for me, she's amazing." You admitted to him, and it was true. His daughter was truly a joy to be around.

"Yeah," He laughs out as he looks out at the sunset, his handsome smile threatening to appear on his face. "She's amazing, for sure." He whispers. You can't help but smile at his words. It was refreshing to see that there was someone who was able to crack his hard exterior.

A silence falls over the two of you before he speaks up again. "Y'know, when we were walking back to the car after the lake, she talked about you the whole time. I couldn't shut up about how much cooler you are than Tommy and me." He scoffs as he rolls his eyes playfully and folds his arms to his chest. His confession made you laugh so hard that you couldn't stop, which caused him to laugh as well.

"I mean, she isn't wrong." You teasingly say it to him, causing him to shake his head.

"Yeah-fuckin'-right, darlin'. I can be cool, too."

"Mmhmm.." You reply back to him as you turn your head to look back at the view. However, Joel's eyes remained on you, but you didn't mind too much.

Once again, silence fell over you two. You wanted to look back at Joel, but you knew that if you looked at him in the eyes, your heart would beat out of your chest.

"Did you enjoy yourself, Joel?" You asked him without looking at him.

"What?" Joel asked.

Was he that engrossed in my face that he wasn't even paying attention, or were you not loud enough?

You suppress your laugh as you turn your head to look at him again. "I asked if you enjoyed yourself today." He quickly snaps out of his trance and looks away.

"Oh, yeah, it was enjoyable for the most part, sweetie," Joel sighs out. You said nothing else after this.

You didn't realize it until now, but you were starting to grow tired from the weed. You also wanted a snack.

"Well, I'm going to head back in, maybe fall asleep to a movie or something." You tell him as you grab your belongings, get up from the chair, and walk to the door.

"Alright," He says as he watches every step you take. "And one last thing, darlin'," You stop with your hand on the doorknob and look up at Joel as you wait to hear what he has to say. With a mix of your high and the nervousness you were feeling because of Joel, your heart was pounding out of your chest at this point.

"You don't gotta lie to me, sweet girl. You know that, right?" He says lowly as he motioned to his eyes.

Fuck!

Your body tenses up, and you freeze. You decided to play dumb, even though you were caught. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Joel," You say as you let out a nervous laugh. Your eyes shifted to the ground, avoiding eye contact with Joel like a guilty puppy.

"Oh, no need to play stupid with me, sweet girl; I won't tell your daddy." Something about the way he said these words made you want him so bad; it was almost like he was teasing you.

You felt your walls crumbling, no longer feeling the need to lie to him. "You swear, Joel?" You asked him as you looked at him with pleading eyes.

Joel wished that you would look at him with those pretty eyes while you were on your knees, pleading and begging for him to feed you his cock. In all honesty, he'd give you the world if you asked for it with that look. You made Joel feel something he hasn't felt for a woman in years, and he was willing to do just about anything to have you. However, he could tell you weren't ready for that yet, but he knew in due time he'd have you.

"You have my word, darlin'," He nods his head. "Just don't lie to me again," Joel tells you as he points a finger.

You frantically nod your head in agreement as you bite your lip. "I won't do it again, Joel."

All Joel could think about was how obedient you are, so eager to please him and do as he says. He could feel his cock getting hard in his shorts as he looked at your bare thighs and had these thoughts. Not once did you realize that Joel was checking you out.

Oh, how badly Joel wanted to grab your chin and kiss those lips of yours. He kept reminding himself that he needed to be patient.

"Good." He says before speaking up again. "You should go inside, darlin', maybe get some rest." Joel insisted as he made his way to the door and gave you one last look before walking inside, leaving you outside by yourself.

You stand there dumbfounded for a moment as you think about your interaction with Joel. You weren't sure if it was just you thinking too much into the interaction, but you felt like there was some sexual tension between you and Joel.

Any time you're around him, nervousness takes over, and a sense of yearning aches deep in your bones.

You needed him badly.

"Don't," You say to yourself. "Don't fucking think about it." You say it lowly as you try to shake the thoughts out of your head.

Joel is off limits; he's your dad's best friend.

You realized how crazy you must look standing at the door thinking about Joel, so you went inside.

Once you entered the room, you noticed that it was a little too warm in there for your liking, so you decided to leave the balcony door cracked to get some fresh air.

You put your things away, got into bed, and watched a movie on the TV across the room.

...

You weren't sure when you fell asleep, but you did during the movie without even realizing it. You felt very discombobulated, so you sat in the dark for a few minutes. Your clothes felt disgusting on your body as you sweated through them, and your throat was dry.

You quickly got out of bed, slipped off your clothes, got back into bed, and took a sip of the water bottle that lay next to you. During this, you got a glimpse of the digital clock that sat on the bedside table. It read 12:48.

The house was quiet. You were sure that Maria, Tommy, and your dad were back from the bar by now and asleep. Sarah and Joel were probably sleeping as well.

You laid back down on the bed, pushing away the uncomfortable blanket, leaving your body bare. You should have gotten up to close the door because if Joel were to come to your balcony door, he'd surely get a glimpse of your naked body. However, you were still sleepy and a little high, so you lacked the motivation to get up.

It really didn't matter anyway; he's probably still sleeping.

You had laid restless in the bed, constantly flipping the pillows to get the cool side and changing positions, but you still couldn't sleep. You decided to lay on your stomach; it helped you fall asleep sometimes.

You knew one thing that would definitely make you fall asleep, but with a particular someone lingering in your thoughts, it felt wrong. It is completely wrong to have these thoughts about him.

He's way too old for you, and he's your dad's best friend.

Though you tried your best to resist these thoughts, you couldn't help yourself.

Fuck it, it's not like I'm gonna actually fuck him, you think to yourself.

You were suddenly taken back to earlier, when you first laid eyes on him. Those eyes and the curve of his nose. You wanted nothing more than to feel his beautiful nose rub against your clit while he ate you out.

Or when he shook your hands and you felt those thick, rough fingers against your smooth hands.

You were sure that Joel knew how to use them very well.

Subconsciously, your hips had bucked into the bed, trying to get friction onto your clit causing the headboard to hit against the wall ever-so-slightly.

"Shit!" You cursed out loud, hoping that Joel didn't hear. Your heart was pounding at the thought of being caught by him, but your pussy dripped with your wetness.

You waited a couple seconds until you took your hand from underneath the pillow and slowly moved it between the bed and your body, allowing your finger tips to graze against your pussy. You couldn't help but whimper at the feeling. Your arousal ran down your fingers, to your knuckles, and onto the bed.

What you didn't know was that Joel wasn't even in his room; he was sitting out on the balcony. He had been sitting out there for about an hour or so because he couldn't sleep, not with you on his mind, so he decided to sit out there and bore himself to death until he got some sleep. When he first came outside, he checked on you and saw that you were knocked out. The room was dark, and the only thing that brought some light to the room was the bright moonlight reflecting over the lake.

As Joel got up to check on you one last time before he went back to his room, he heard you let out a whimper. He slowly walked to your balcony door so that he wouldn't scare you in case you were having a nightmare, but that wasn't the case at all. Again, Joel heard you let out another noise.

First, you sharply gasped, then moaned out, "Oh, Fuck!"

Joel became more intrigued with whatever was going on in your room because it became very apparent that you weren't having a nightmare. In fact, it didn't even sound like you were sleeping anymore.

Like a thief in the night, Joel peered through the door that was half open. What he saw before him could've brought him to his knees.

You were lying down on your stomach, fully naked on the bed. He noticed that with your right hand, you were touching yourself. Joel wasn't hard before, but he's definitely hard now. He felt as his cock strained against the fabric of his shorts.

Joel knew it was wrong to watch you masturbate without knowing, but he couldn't take his eyes off of you. It had been nearly two years since the last time he had been sexually active, and quite honestly, it was catching up to him at that very moment. He had been so busy with everything in his life that sex was the last thing on his mind until now.

As Joel watched you hump your hips into your fingers, you were imagining a shirtless Joel sat up on the bed, with you sitting in between his legs. Your legs would be wide open, propped up over his, as you allowed his calloused middle and ring finger to collect your arousal from between your folder and rub it into your clit. With his deep Texas accent, he would be whispering into your ear about how much of a good girl you are and how wet you were for him. Your head would be laid on his sexy, broad shoulders as your eyes rolled with pleasure. You imagined that as he played with your clit, his other hand would touch your breast and quickly tweak your nipples as they continued going up and firmly wrapping around your neck.

You were so caught up in your thoughts and pleasure that you hadn't realized that you were moaning out Joel's name.

"J-Joel, please," You quivered out quietly enough so that you weren't too loud, but loud enough for Joel to hear. "I'll be good, p-please, daddy." You followed up.

Even though you thought that Joel was in the next room over (which he wasn't) and there were other people in the house, you still continued to touch yourself as the headboard faintly knocked against the wall.

Yet you were so blissfully unaware of it all. So unaware of the fact that Joel was standing right outside the door, watching you rubbing yourself completely nude, and unaware that Joel had pulled his cock out while he watched and listened to you.

Joel didn't care that what he was doing was wrong. He didn't care that watching you, this freshly 21-year-old, masturbate without your knowledge was bad.

The sounds of your panting, moans, and dirty talk made him want to walk right into the room and give you the pleasure you needed.

Joel has always been a selfish lover when it came to the bedroom; he liked to be the one who was dominant and always took control. He could tell you needed someone like him to fulfill your desires—not some foolish 20-something year old, but a real man.

As you continued to grind against your fingers, Joel saw how your ass moved back and forth. He wanted to spank you for being such a naughty girl. Touching yourself without asking for his permission. He would remind you that only slutty, bad girls did that.

He jerked his cock at the same speed as your hips moved. "Oh my god, daddy!" You moaned into the pillow, causing it to be muffled. The thrusting of your hips had sped up. You were on the cusp of cumming, but that changed when you suddenly pulled your hands from between your legs and got up to change positions.

You were now lying on your back with your legs bent up to your chest as far as they could go. Using the hand you just used to grind up against, you bring your middle and ring fingers to your mouth. You began to suckle on them intensely, pretending they were Joel's fingers. You could taste yourself as you did so.

A minute later, you pop your fingers out of your mouth and bring them down to your pussy. As you sink your fingers inside yourself, you can feel the wetness, allowing you to slip deeper into your tight hole. You squirmed as you felt a little discomfort due to your fingers. You decided to slowly thrust your fingers in and out, allowing yourself to get used to the feeling. With your free hand, you brought it up to your mouth to muffle your soft whines.

Oh, my baby, she can barely take her own fingers, Joel thought as he watched you.

To Joel's surprise, you still didn't see him standing by the door, hastily jerking himself off at the sight of you. It wasn't like he was being discreet about it either. He was almost fully through the door at that point. Your eyes were closed as you fingered yourself.

Finally, you were able to adjust to your fingers. As you picked up the speed, Joel could hear the wet, slick sounds coming from your pussy all the way across the room. Hearing this only heightens the pleasure for him.

"Joel, I'm-oh my god-I'm gonna cum!" You moaned lowly.

Joel wanted to be the one to make you cry, but he knew he couldn't at that moment.

Your messy wetness had allowed your fingers to go deeper inside, causing you a certain spot. Your legs shuddered as your finger tips grazed the spot. In a 'come here' motion, you continued to hit the spot over and over again. "Fuck! That's it, baby. Keep going just like that." You purred out.

Joel convulsed at the way you said these words. He was ready to cum at any moment, but he wanted to cum with you.

With his hand still rapidly moving up and down his length, he finally heard your release.

"Yes! I'm cumming all over your fingers, Joel!" You moaned a little louder this time. Joel could hear you breathing hard as you continued to ramble about how good it felt.

Instantly, Joel was cumming. He withheld his groans and grunts as the hot cum hit the palm of his other hand. Instead, he was breathing hard through his nose, hoping to God that you couldn't hear him.

Finally, your orgasm began to die down. "Oh my god," You sighed out blissfully, as you pulled your finger from your pussy. Your legs moved from your chest and you dropped down on the bed. You were still trying to catch your breath. With his mind still cloudy from cumming so hard, when Joel saw you move your legs, he thought that you were going to get off the bed, causing him to panic and move away from the door so that you couldn't see him.

You could feel the cum webbing between your two fingers. You decided that you wanted a look, so you opened your eyes and brought your hand close to your face. You could see the bright moonlight illuminate your cum. You'd never come so hard. Not with any of your hookups, let alone when you masturbated.

You felt spent after that, but you needed to get up to clean yourself off. You decided to rest your eyes a bit before getting up, but without even realizing it, you had dozed off into a dreamless sleep.

Less than five minutes later, Joel heard light snores coming from your room, so he decided that it was safe to look again. You were dead to the world. Joel saw your limp hand hanging off the bed—the same one you had used to fuck yourself with. He could see the wetness gleaming on your fingers. He wanted to come over them and suck your cum off of your fingers, but he stopped himself.

The post-nut clarity had hit Joel, and he realized that he must've looked like a creep with his cock out while he watched you sleep. So he closed your balcony door and headed back into the house to wash the cum from his hands.

Joel knew that he would have you one day; it didn't matter how long it took for him to get you. He would get you right where he wanted you eventually.

...

You woke up feeling like a brand new person that morning. Your limbs felt loose, and you felt like you could conquer the world.

You could feel the sun on your naked body as you rose out of bed to stretch. The sounds of people moving around let you know that everyone was awake.

You suddenly realized that the balcony door was now closed. You don't remember getting up to clean yourself, and you definitely don't remember ever getting up to close the door.

Realization had hit you hard, and your heart dropped.

Shit! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

There was no way anyone could have come into your room because you had locked the bedroom door. However, Joel had access to the shared balcony.

He was the only one who could've closed that door.

Whatever, you were going to enjoy yourself this weekend and act like nothing happened.

=============================================

A/N: I had a lot of trouble writing this for some reason, but next one is going to be a lot better. I got so much planned already hehe

#smut #the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #neighbor!joel #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #dads best friend #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel miller x reader #dbf!joel x you

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hyuckiefluff · 9 months

Note

hihi! can i request corruption kink with jeno or hyuck?? if thats okay!

a/n: thank u for requesting!! i decided to do jeno bc i haven’t written anything for him yet oh and somebody else requested that i do something similar to my jaemin request with jeno so two birds one stone i guess? anyways enjoy!!!!! psa i got way more requests than i expected so thank u to everyone who sent im gonna try to get thru all of them as quickly as possible (if college doesn’t k!ll me first)

btw thank u for 400 followers! love u all

pairing: jeno x tutor!reader

wc: 2k

content: smut

warnings: cursing, fingering, masturbation, edging (kind of) , mentions of food (ice cream), big dick jeno ofc, backshots yuh!!!, rough sex, jeno is kinda too much in this lol, marking, cum eating, taking risky pics without consent, no after care, usage of pet names like pretty and baby *whispers* and whore. lmk if i missed any

masterlist

Jeno had always liked experienced girls. The kind he didn't have to treat with gloves, who were game for him to fuck so hard that they'd feel it afterward. At least, that's what he thought he was into.

Then you walked into the picture as his little brother's tutor. You were always polite and proper, wearing those buttoned up shirts and pencil skirts that gave off a more mature vibe than your actual age. He knew you recently graduated college, which he liked because you were older than him. But the thing is, you were incredibly innocent and naive. I mean, you didn't even catch on when his brother cracked those not-so-subtle, inappropriate jokes about you.

Jeno wouldn't usually spare a second thought for someone like you. After all, you couldn't even hold his gaze for more than a couple of seconds. So, why on earth was he now holed up in the bathroom, pumping himself to the thoughts of your ass in that skirt? Maybe it was because of how clueless you were, bending over the table to help his brother with his work, offering Jeno a perfect view of your perked ass. He tried to resist, truly he did, but it was hard, especially when your shirt hiked up, exposing the curve of your back.

Jeno had to make a quick exit from the living room, and now… Here he was, working up a sweat in the cramped bathroom trying to imagine your hand, or even your mouth, around his dick instead of his own. Imagining how he'd finish all over your face, leaving you in a state of shock and fluster, those big, innocent eyes looking up at him.

"Shit..." he whimpered shakily, the release of his pent-up load leaving him trembling as the white liquid ended up dripping messily all over the bathroom's curtain. This was getting ridiculous… he needed to fuck someone now.

A sudden knock at the door made him jump, his dick still exposed, flopping around as he hurried to check that the door was securely bolted. He quickly adjusted his pants, grabbed some toilet paper, and tried to clean up the mess as much as possible.

What he didn't expect was to find you standing there when he opened the door, holding a popsicle.

He vaguely remembered you saying something about getting ice cream for everyone because it was so hot. That was right before he had bolted upstairs to deal with his urgent situation.

The popsicle was melting, its crimson contents dripping down your hand and arm. Jeno couldn't help but feel like the universe was testing him, and he swore he felt his dick come alive again.

"Oh, sorry... Uhm... I kind of made a mess," you laughed airily but averted your gaze when the eye contact got a bit too intense "Your brother mentioned you guys had wet wipes in here."

"Uh, yeah, down there" Jeno finally responded after a few moments of silently staring at you. You bent down to check under the sink where he directed you, giving him another tempting view of your ass. You missed the quiet grunt he let out while discreetly adjusting the growing situation in his pants.

You straightened up after finding the wet wipes, looking somewhat torn between putting the popsicle down to clean yourself or eating it quickly. Jeno sensed your struggle and casually reached his arm from behind you to take the popsicle from your hand, allowing you to clean up properly.

"Oh, thanks," you said, using the wet wipes to clean your arms and the stained area on your shirt.

Jeno silently watched you in the mirror, his attention focused on the way the white shirt clung to your skin as you diligently worked to remove the stain. When you finally looked up, you found him eating the popsicle—the very one you had been licking just moments ago. Locking eyes with you, he noticed your bewildered expression and gave you a lopsided smile "It was melting."

"Oh..." you said quietly, the heat rushing to your ears revealing your flustered state.

You tried to return to your task, but he stopped you by suddenly grabbing your wrist. His own hand was now sticky from the melting popsicle. He pulled you closer to him and reached his hand to your face, using his thumb to rub against the corner of your lip "You got ice cream here too," but instead of withdrawing his hand after, he surprised you by slipping his thumb into your mouth.

You would have pulled back if you weren’t completely taken aback by what was going on.

With his finger still in your mouth, he playfully pressed the popsicle against your collarbone. The cold sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and your tongue brushed against his finger instinctively. The sight of your mouth enveloping his digit drove his self-control right out the window. He carelessly dropped the popsicle in the sink and leaned in closer, crowding your personal space with his larger frame. His cold hands sneaked under your shirt, and with a quick move, he unhooked your bra straps from your shoulders, exposing more skin for him to explore.

"Jeno... I don't think this is ri-..right,"

"Why not?" he asked, his face burying in your neck, coaxing soft whimpers from your lips.

"Your... brother... he—"

"He's probably busy googling the answers to his exercises, believe me, he doesn't need you back just yet” He assured, pulling you even closer against his hips, causing your skirt to ride up and reveal your panties.

“I knew you were a whore,” he tutted, realizing you were wearing black lace “You wear lingerie to tutor students?" he chuckled dryly, biting a smile as you attempted to cover yourself.

"I’m n–," you whispered, but your words were cut short as his teeth grazed against your skin, leaving marks and savoring the fruity taste left by the popsicle. He didn't bother with the buttons of your shirt, causing a few of them to pop open from the stretch.

Your bra had slipped down too, partially exposing your breasts.

“You like being used like this, don’t you?" he teased, leaning back to take in the sight of your disheveled appearance. Your bruised neck from the sucking and biting, the strands of hair that clung to your flushed face, and your lace panties on display.

He reached for his phone inside his pocket and snapped a quick picture of you in that state. Your expression instantly shifted to one of panic.

"What… are you doing?" You tried to slide off the sink, but he pressed back against you, his hips pinning you in place.

"Don't worry, this is just for me to enjoy later."

Then he kissed you, shushing any protests you had. His hand crept undetected inside your skirt and under your panties, his index finger gingerly spreading your folds. The action made you gasp against his tongue and then, without warning, he inserted a finger. The intrusion made you try to press your thighs together but he was standing between them so it was impossible. Every time he pumped his finger inside, his hips rutted against you, and you could feel the tent forming in his sweatpants brushing against your clothed core.

“…‘m gonna fuck you like no one ever has before,” He groaned against your lips.

He intentionally slowed down to a pace that almost seemed teasing as the knot in your stomach became almost unbearable. But given how shameful this situation already was, you didn’t want to ask for more.

"Are you that desperate for cock, hmm baby?" Jeno asked as you instinctively tugged on the waistband of his sweatpants to bring him closer and relieve the friction.

His finger pumped a few more times before he completely withdrew it. The emptiness immediately made you whimper.

"I'll give you what you want then," he replied as he reached into his sweatpants and casually pulled out his dick. You didn't want to stare like a pervert but... wow. You felt your legs quiver just from its sheer size. There was no way in hell you could take that.

You found it difficult to imagine how anything that big could fit comfortably inside of you.

The smug smirk on his face told you that he liked your reaction "Clearly never seen one so big,"

"Jeno, I can't… we shouldn’t"

"But what kind of gentleman leaves a lady who is obviously in need?" He said cynically as he pulled down your panties.

No more words were necessary, the tension that had been building reached its peak as he aligned himself with your entrance. Jeno tried not to show any vulnerability, but the way your walls tightened around him, even though he was barely inside, was driving him crazy.

As he gradually entered you, soft, breathless gasps escaped your swollen lips. Your hands clung to the sink, keeping you from losing your balance. He stretched you so intensely that it made your eyes roll to the back of your head. You knew it defied anatomical possibility but as he bottomed out, you had a feel that if you touched your lower belly, you might just be able to feel him there.

“'m gonna move," he said through gritted teeth, more like a statement than a question. And with that, he started to thrust, not giving you much time to get used to the feeling of being so incredibly full.

As his hips met yours in a rough rhythm, he mumbled praises while also calling you things you'd never tolerate from anyone else.

"You feel so tight... for me," he groaned, his hand reaching for your face so you would look up at him.

“Eyes up here, doll,” he said in a breathless tone, the pace so fast and rough that it left no room for coherent thoughts. The knot in your stomach twisted, sending waves of almost painful pleasure through you. Your entire body buzzing with his desperate movements.

“J-..J-..Jeno…” His name was the only word that escaped your lips, each thrust causing your voice to quiver.

Suddenly, he lifted you by your ass and turned you around to face the misty mirror. Both your reflections appeared hazy in the condensation-covered glass so he messily wiped it with one hand and then resumed his thrusting. Now, you could see the way your expression changed each time he hit that spot deep inside you.

He continued fucking into you relentlessly, whispering how you would remember the outline of his cock by the time he was finished. His saliva-slicked lips left wet trails on the skin beneath your ear. From this close proximity, you could even hear the soft moans he struggled to suppress.

Suddenly, a thought flashed through your mind, and with a hoarse voice, you pleaded, "Jeno... don't cum inside."

He hummed against your hair but continued ramming into you, and for a moment, you thought he hadn't heard you. However, just as your orgasm swept over you, he pulled out. You sighed in relief and rested your forehead against the steamy mirror, seeking a few moments of calm.

But Jeno had other plans and wiithout giving you a moment to catch your breath, he turned you around and had you on your knees. You looked up at him confused until he aligned his cock with your mouth.

"Open wide," he said, and with no energy left to complain, you did as told.

You expected him to shove his dick into your mouth, but instead, he stroked it a few more times before releasing his load all over your face. Most of it landed in your mouth, but some also splashed onto your cheeks and chin.

"Swallow," he said with a commanding tone, a stark contrast to the way he gently stroked your face.

You complied, taking in as much as you could. You even used a finger to collect the excess and popped it into your mouth. Savoring it much like you did when you licked the ice cream off his finger. Jeno bit his lip, trying to contain himself before he fucked you thrice more against the wall.

“Go ahead and clean yourself, pretty. You got a lesson to finish," he said, adjusting his sweatpants. And with one last chaste kiss on your lips, he left the bathroom.

#nct #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct smut #nct dream fic #nct dream imagines #nct imagines #nct dream scenario #nct dream smut #jeno smut #jeno #jeno scenarios #jeno imagines #jeno x reader #nct jeno #hyuckiereqs

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lis-likes-fics · 4 months

Text

Poison

Pairings: Coriolanus Snow x district!Reader Word Count: 13.3k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, technically dubcon, swearing, post-ballad, mentions of killing and death, violence, technically prostitution, oral (m and f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, sadistic tendencies, p in v sex, unprotected sex, coriolanus snow is NOT a good person. A/N: I started this a bit ago but writer's block hits hard. Reader did not remember who the enemy was...but she also kinda did. ANYWAy, I wrote this based around a song from Hazbin Hotel called Poison. All credit for the song goes to Sam Haft and Andrew Underberg. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!

PART ONE: The Deal

The knocks which echo off the walls of your house are loud, firm, assertive. You jump at the sound, watching the door like it would fly off its hinges. For far too long, you stare at the door, debating whether or not you should open it.

Who could it be? You don't get many visitors… You don't get visitors.

You stand slowly, the hairs along your arms and the back of your neck on edge. You swear that you can feel your hands shaking. You hold your breath just so you can actually hear what's going on around you.

Another firm knock is given, and you snap out of your haze.

Your feet carry you across the length of the living room. Your fingers brush the cold knob of the door, and you hesitate before pulling it open, just enough to peek through the crack to see who could possibly be visiting you.

Your eyes widen and you fight the urge to step back, both of pure shock and a modicum of fear. “Mr. Snow.”

The sight of Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow at your door was not one you ever thought you'd see. There are two Peacekeepers behind him, holding their guns tight in offense against you.

You clear your throat, looking upon his expensive suit, his white-blonde hair, the single rose in his breast pocket. You force yourself to look him in the eye, afraid to antagonize him and risk any violence, before remembering who he was. He wouldn't get violent, but you would pay for it if you angered him.

He smiles when you finally meet his gaze, but he doesn't bother to tilt his chin down to level it. “Hello,” he greets politely.

You straighten your posture slightly, opening the door a bit more out of obligation more than a desire to welcome him in. Seeing that he is the man who designed the Games that put you through hell, you would rather keep him out.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, keeping your voice as non-confrontational as possible. “Sir.”

He shrugs, pulling his hands from the pocket of his jacket and holding them behind his back. He almost seems taller this way.

“Checking up on our latest Victor,” he smiles. He motions toward your living room, “May I come in?”

You don't have much of a choice now. With a sigh, you take a reluctant step to the side and grant his invitation. When he takes his first step forward and the Peacekeepers begin to move, he stops immediately and holds up a hand. They stand firmly in their place. Snow turns back to you, smiles, and then walks inside.

He takes the time to examine the place before he ever speaks, and you close the door behind him to shut the grunts out. Snow clasps his hands behind his back once more and glances around the room like it's speaking to him. He nods slowly, humming to himself.

“How are you?” he finally asks after you've both spent far too long in uncomfortable silence. “How is the life of a champion suiting you?”

You try not to scoff, bowing your head and crossing your arms over your chest, making yourself as small as you feel.

“Well enough, I guess,” you mumble.

He glances over his shoulder at you. “You guess?” he wonders, raising a curious brow.

You clench your jaw once, “Mr. Snow respectfully, why are you here?”

He shrugs. “As I said…checking on our Victor.”

You hum. “And you do this with all your Victors?”

The corner of his lip kicks, barely perceptible if you aren't paying attention. But you are. It would cost you a lot not to pay attention.

“That's the routine,” he says. His eyes wander around the room once more, falling back on you with a cold expression. His eyes are like frost, and you shudder at the sight of them. He tilts his head.

“You don't seem quite happy with your turnout,” he suggests, his eyes narrowing slightly in a questioning manner. You feel like your blood has just run cold. The anxiety seeps into your skin. “Why is that?”

You clench your jaw nervously, clearing your throat as you shrug. You tear your eyes away from him for just a moment and force yourself to look back immediately after.

Your voice is small and your attempt at lying fails because of it. “Why wouldn't I be happy?” you ask. “I have…” You glance around, trying to find something to point out before you seem too suspicious—uselessly, you already know you've been caught red-handed. “I have...a new house and—and prize money. And fans, apparently.”

You try not to be too disgusted by that—fans gained with the useless slaughter of children. A few months you've been out of that arena. And you still see the faces of all those children in your head wherever you go, the sounds of regret and their deaths deafened by the screaming cheers of the mindless crowd that celebrated you for it.

“I'm…” you take a breath, “all set.”

He doesn't believe you. Why would he?

“Yet you've barely moved in,” he points out, making a small circle in the place where he stands. He holds his arms out, as if to emphasize his point. “No pictures, little to no personal belongings. This house looks exactly as it did when you first moved in.”

You furrow your brows, tilting your head slightly. “You know what it looked like?” you question, a gentle and hopefully empty challenge.

He raises a brow. “I was the one who approved everything here. For your comfort, of course.”

Ah.

“No one lives here with you?” he wonders.

You shake your head tentatively. “No one to live with.”

His brows raise slightly. “No family? Friends?”

You clear your throat and shake your head once more.

He hums. “A little lonely, don't you think?”

You shrug, your arms crossing tighter over your chest as you turn slightly away. “I'm used to being alone.”

His eyes scan you up and down. “That's quite sad.”

You swallow thickly. “Doesn't matter to me.”

“Here you are all alone in your little District 7,” he says. The way he looks at you, his predatory gaze, it makes you feel so small. But his voice is soft, not as mocking as it should sound compared to his diction. “No friends, no family, and no care about the way it all is.”

You want him to leave, leave you alone to your loneliness, your quiet misery. If he is just going to stand there and call you an outcast, you don't see any reason that he should stay.

“Yeah. Your point?” You don't mean to sound so hostile but you couldn't help it.

He seems to smirk. “How would you like to change that?”

You could have gotten whiplash. You blink rapidly, licking your lip as you try to figure out if you heard him correctly. “What?” you ask.

“How would you like to change that?” So you had heard him right. “Be a little less lonely, You'd have money, friends, all of your needs would be taken care of.”

You don't trust him. Why should you? Why would Coriolanus Snow offer you all of this? Comfort and stability, a life of luxury?

At what cost?

“And you're offering this to me, why?” Attempting a little boldness, you uncross your arms and straighten your spine a bit. “What did I do? I mean…” you scoff, “I won, sure, but only by the skin of my teeth. And I'm sure you don't go around offering this to all your other Victors. What's so special about me, huh?”

There's a long silence where he just…stares at you. His face is completely unreadable, devoid of any type of emotion as he watches your face too closely.

Then a smile begins to curl his lips and he tilts his chin up just a slight. “You're right,” he says simply. Then his eyes look you up and down. “Truth is, I lied.”

You don't like the change in demeanor. It's a different kind of superiority than the one he displayed before. “I figured as much,” you reply, trying not to lose your confidence, though your voice does become a little quieter. “So what do you want? Why are you here?”

He tilts his head and steps toward you. You take an instinctive step back. “You're special,” he says. You scoff but he just shakes his head. “I can feel it. I wasn't lying about my offer. I came to give you more than…” he looks around and sighs, “an empty house with no pictures on the walls. As I said…all your needs would be taken care of.” The smallest shrug raises his shoulders. “With a price.”

There it is.

Again, you scoff. You cross your arms and roll your eyes and plop down on the couch. “Have I not paid enough?”

He walks toward you, and suddenly you regret putting yourself in such a physically vulnerable situation. “You're right,” he hums. “You have. I'm not asking much. Truth is…all I need is an assistant.”

You furrow your brow. “And you're choosing someone from District instead of Capitol?”

He takes a slow breath in, shrugging. “You suit my interests. Capitol does not.”

“So I have to, what, follow you around? Take orders from you?” You lick your lip. “And I get what exactly?”

He takes his hands from his pockets. “Shelter, money, a sprinkle of fame. Anything you could ever need or want.” He stops a moment, thinking to himself with a light hum. “You'd have to sign a contract, of course.”

You sigh, a million thoughts rushing through your head as you actually consider his offer. This is the man who literally designed your hell. He is one of the very people who forced you to fight for survival, to kill for it. For months, you've lived with nightmares full of slaughter and regret.

But for years, you've lived with isolation and solitude. He would give you everything. Shelter, money, a sprinkle of fame. A chance to start over, a chance to be a little less lonely.

But you are all too aware of the chance that this could all blow up in your face. This is Coriolanus Snow. He's not to be trusted, surely.

“And if I say no?”

He stands still for a moment, so still you wonder if he'd frozen in time. You have to urge yourself to hold his gaze. You can't seem afraid of him, you just can't.

Finally, Snow lets out a long sigh. He steps close, before turning and sitting next to you on the couch. He leans back, getting comfortable as he crosses his legs and sets his hands in his lap.

“Then you stay here,” he says plainly, shrugging before letting his gaze wander around the living room of this hollow home. “In this big…empty house.”

This big empty house. Your grand solitude.

Knowing the things you know now, you wish you could say that you would go back and change your decision. You wish you could say you'd go back and choose your loneliness over the dark nights you'd sucked yourself into.

You made a deal with the Devil. And you know that if you had the choice…you'd do it again.

I'm not above a love to cash in…

PART TWO: Paradise

A week later, you found yourself standing in the Capitol, in Coriolanus Snow’s office, with a contract and a pen in front of you. You scanned over the words, took a deep breath, picked up the pen, and signed your name on the dotted line at the bottom.

Snow gave you a large smile and sent an escort to show you to your new living quarters. In his house. Down the hall from his room.

And for the next couple of weeks, you've been to two separate welcome parties, two other Capitol parties, and six meetings as Snow’s new assistant. You've handled messages, documents, scheduling, and a variety of appointed tasks that have put you in positions so far above so many Capitol members, you briefly wonder if you've signed into a scam.

At first, there was…resistance among the people. There were insults that you were an animal, a bottom feeder, a whore, a parasite. But every person who had dared to insult you had gone missing the next day. No one made any questions, or remarks, after so many people mysteriously disappeared.

And, soon, you got comfortable. Because Snow held up his end of the bargain. You were comfortable, wealthy, made some friends who had taken a moment to get used to you (you suspect they're trying to be nice to you to earn favor from Snow, but at least you aren't being insulted anymore). You don't go hungry every night, you always have fresh clothes. Sure, your schedule was a bit stressful, but that was an adjustment that could be made. Asking for more would be selfish—and insane, what more could you want?

You were, on the levels that counted…happy, content.

In just a few weeks, you had settled in like you belonged. Well…maybe not to that extent, but the work became easy and the needless parties were much appreciated.

When someone knocks on your door, you're pulling your robe over your body as you walk over to answer it. One of the servants stands on the other side, looking tired from the day's work.

“Yes, Charlotta?”

“Mr. Snow has requested your presence in his study, ma'am,” she says.

You glance behind you at the clock in your room. “Now? It's so late.” You hum, “Alright, thank you. Go to bed. You must be exhausted.”

She nods thankfully and turns away. You're quick to pull your slippers on, pulling your robe tight around your nightgown before rushing down the hall. You don't want to be late to him.

You reach his door down the hall, taking in a breath and raising your fist. Your knuckles meet the door four times.

“Come in,” His muffled reply comes.

You turn the knob, opening the door. Peaking into the room, you slowly walk inside, standing by the door. “You called?” you speak gently.

Snow is slouched over his desk, his pen scrawling away at a file of papers in front of him. “I did,” he nods. There's a moment of silence between you as he finishes up the last part of his work.

He sets his pen down and sits up, his back straight as he sets his clasped hand over his lap and turns his full attention to you. “I have an urgent matter I need you to take care of.”

You close the door behind you, establishing some privacy. It must be important if he's asking you this late. He probably needs you to run some important documents to someone, or schedule another meeting with one of the ambassadors that came to one of his meetings today.

“Yes, sir?” you ask.

“Come here,” he says, making a come hither movement with his fingers. Clasping your hands behind your back, you walk toward his desk and stop in front of him. He clarifies, “Behind the desk.”

You tilt your head, your brows furrowing as you hesitate. You begin to take your first step, pause, and then make your way behind the desk.

He turns his chair as you come to stand in front of him, your hands held tightly in front of you. He sits there, staring up at you as his eyes rake over your body.

You shift from foot to foot, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about the way he's looking at you. And again…silence.

“Get on your knees.”

All the heat escapes your body at the same time. A chill rushes up your spine. And once the initial shock has dissipated, a fire spreads across your flesh and you're burning up. You feel like your hands have begun shaking, so you shift them behind your back.

You have to find your voice again, clearing your throat timidly. “Sir?” you nearly stutter, clearing your throat again.

He shakes his head, amused by the timid look on your face. “I didn't stutter.”

You don't move, shocked to stillness. Snow sighs, standing to his feet and moving in front of you. He holds his chin up, looking down his nose at you to emphasize his superiority. You shrink underneath him.

“You're my assistant. You signed a contract,” he explains. “I take care of your needs, you take care of mine. No matter the request.”

You really should have read the fine print.

“Right now,” he continues, raising a hand to brush his knuckles over your cheek. Your eyes flutter lightly at the contact, holding your breath, afraid to breathe wrong and upset him. “My needs are for you to get on your knees and put your pretty mouth to good use. Then I'll do the same for you.”

Another shudder rushes through your spine. He pretends not to notice, but his smirk does deepen. Your lips part as you try to speak, unsure of what you'll say. “I…”

He drops his hand, lifting a brow expectantly. “Is there a problem?”

You clear your throat one more time, shaking your head and glancing away from his eyes, his intense, cutting blue eyes. “No, sir.”

He smiles. “Good.”

You glance up at him. His hand reaches up and grasps your chin. In the next moment, he's pulling you in as his lips crash down against yours. It's a possessive kiss, deep and devouring—controlling.

You have no choice but to kiss him back, letting your hands fall at your sides and lifting them up to his arms. You don't know where you're supposed to put them.

Just as you're leaning into the kiss, he pulls away from you and takes a step back. His lips, still parted and smiling, are wicked. He lowers himself into his seat, his legs wide open and his hands clasped in front of him. “As you were.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. Taking an unsteady step forward, you slowly kneel to the floor. You hold your breath, avoiding his gaze as your shaky hands reach for his belt.

You undo it, pulling open his button and unzipping his pants. Exhaling, you nervously dip your hand into his pants and feel the warmth of his length against the pad of your fingers. You shudder, braving him as you pull him out of his pants.

And he doesn't disappoint.

Your eyes widen and you don't feel like it's real as you hold him in one hand. He's long with a nice enough girth that he will stretch you a bit. You curse under your breath, licking your lips as you glance up at Snow.

He smiles, watching you closely. Suddenly you feel naked. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, not cruelly.

You tear your gaze away from him, looking back down at the pink tip of his cock. You let your lips part and let your tongue fall to the edge of your lip…

The soft red light of Coryo’s lamp glows dimly on your skin as his strong hand cards through your hair, balling into a fist to grip your locks at his own need. Your moans stutter deep in your throat where his cock sits, the tears spring to your eyes.

His tongue plunges inside of you, licking the honey from your folds as you arch your back and moan his name. Your fingers tangle in his hair, and he groans into you at the sting of his scalp from your insistent grasp.

His lips press kisses to your back as you white-knuckle the headboard of his bed. His fingers dig into your hips, creating crescents in your flesh that crater your skin. He fucks you in long, hard strokes of his cock. His teeth are bared like a beast, his hair falls over his forehead, his groans are rough with lust.

The crashing of waves drowns you, explosions are set off deep within your body. His liquor fills your mouth, your throat, your belly. It's warm and sating, and he pulls you close to make sure you never stray from his hold.

And through the night, his arms never leave your body, his claws never leave your flesh…

It wasn't hard to get cocky after that. The Capitol was lavish, and it had a way of turning people to bathe in the lap of luxury. You slowly began to learn what kind of position you truly held here, and after months of being high-seated in the Capitol, you had begun to sink into your role.

Snow is the Head Gamemaker, you are his assistant. Everyone had to listen to you if they wanted to make it back home safe to their families. With a whisper in your boss’ ear, you could ensure no one ever spoke badly about you again.

Not that you have exercised that power yet, but you could. And Snow was happy to oblige.

After that first night in his room, your lips around his cock, his hand tangled in your hair, the pleasure didn't end. No, it's normal to find yourself tangled in his sheets, to find your head buried between his thighs (or vice versa), to have his name falling from your lips like you were praying to the gods that men had killed years and years ago.

You've become addicted to the taste of Snow, the smell of Snow, the feeling of Snow. It's an easy thing to overdose on.

Should you have been more careful?

Yes. Yes, you should have.

But Snow is an easy thing to get high on.

Katri spots you through the luscious crowd of one of the Capitol’s many needless parties with ease. Surrounded by nobles and benefactors, you brought your flute of champagne to your lips with a smile. A giggle erupts from your throat at one of the party-goers’ jokes—one that you didn't find particularly funny, but you've gotten really good at pretending.

Katri walks up to you, a tray of champagne in hand as she does. “Ma'am?” You turn toward her, smiling and grabbing a fresh flute from her tray with thanks. She clears her throat, “Mr. Snow has requested your presence.”

You hum gratefully. “Alright, I'll be there in a moment.”

You begin to turn around again but she insists. “He says it's urgent. He wants you immediately.”

Ah, then he's pent up. You wave a hand dismissively, sticking to your response. “Well, tell Coryo I'm busy. I'll be there in a moment.” She gives you a hesitant look, and you smile. “He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it. Okay?”

She scoffs lightly, turning away. “Whatever you say.”

The anxiety in the air around her is palpable with the fact that she would have to return this news to Snow. She finds him in the same place she left him, surrounded by diplomats with his own—now empty—flute of champagne.

As she approaches him, he smiles politely. “Where is my little assistant?” he asks.

Katri clears her throat as she switches his glass out for a fresh one. “She said she'll be here in a moment.”

The shift in his attitude is so slight, it's easy to miss. But she notices the slight clench of his jaw, the faintest clutch of his fingers. “Did she now?” he questions, his head tilting a bit to the side.

She nods slowly, switching her tray to her other hand. “Her exact words were…” She clears her throat once more, not wanting to recite your words back to him. You must have been out of your mind. “ ‘Tell Coryo I'm busy. I'll be there in a moment.’ ”

He seems to know there's more to it because he bids her to continue. Her eyes glance away from him as she does. “She said, ‘He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it.’”

She can tell there's something else he wants to say but chooses not to as his smile becomes tight. “Thank you,” he says simply, politely.

She nods. “Yes, sir.” She walks away.

PART THREE: Reality

You smile a bit when you feel Coryo’s hand land on the side of your arm, grazing up the length of it to reach your shoulder. You look up at him, immediately noticing the stiffness of his grin.

I shoulda guessed that this would happen…

“Coryo,” you greet with a smile. He nods toward the people surrounding you, greeting them politely. He doesn't look at you, just begins to lead you away from them as he ducks his head nearer to your ear.

“My office.” His words are firm, with no room to refuse.

Still, like a fool, you say, “In a moment please? I–”

His smile does not falter, but his voice is a demand as he speaks through his teeth. His grip on your shoulder becomes tight. “Now.”

You clear your throat, your smile still intact but not as professionally kept as his own. You nod once, “Yes, sir.”

He walks away, but not in the direction of his office. You watch him leave, clearing your throat discreetly and dismissing yourself from those who try to speak to you. You go straight to his office, not daring to refuse him again.

When you're there, you find yourself pacing the length of the room uneasily, waiting for him to join you. But he doesn't join you, not immediately. He makes you wait, he makes you stir. You stew in your own anxieties, cursing yourself for being so stupid as to tell him to wait.

Him.

Coriolanus Snow.

He interrupts your thoughts ten minutes later—you know, you counted—opening the door and shutting it gently behind him. He doesn't meet your gaze as he walks past you dismissively. He rounds his desk, pulling open a drawer that holds his personal scotch.

In silence, he pours himself a glass. In silence, he takes a sip. In silence, he savors the taste on his tongue and refuses to look your way for even a second.

You bow your head as you wait for him to say something, anything.

And when he does speak, you suddenly wish he hadn't.

“You're ‘busy’?” he questions.

“Sir?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

He smiles, turning to finally look at you. “ ‘Tell Coryo I'm busy. He doesn't have to worry his pretty little head about it.’ ” He licks his bottom lip, scoffing as he shakes his head at your audacity. “You let those words come out of your mouth?”

You clear your throat as quietly as possible. “I…didn't think it was a big deal… I was on my way.”

He stares at you, unblinking. Then he takes another sip of his drink and sets it down again. He walks from behind his desk, rounding to the front and leaning against it.

“Do you think you're special or something?” He furrows his brow, as though he's confused. You want to sink into the floor, to let the world swallow you whole, to disappear. “What, because I fuck you, you can talk to me any way you want?”

He puts venom behind the word, enough force to ensure you felt it. You swallow thickly, wanting to step away but knowing that if you did that, you would only make matters worse.

“Look at me,” he demands. And immediately, you obey.

You speak quickly, trying to fix your mistake before it can get worse. “Coryo, I'm sorry. I–”

“You're not special,” he cuts you off, advancing toward you. He grabs your wrist, pulling it up sharp and pulling you close to his face, inches away. You can feel his breath on your cheeks. “I own you. You belong to me.” His voice is low, dangerous.

But you've still got some pride left over. And that would be your downfall…

“I don't ‘belong’ to an–”

“You're mine!” he exclaims, though he doesn't shout. There's force behind his words, and his voice raises to a more stern, more possessive growl as he shoves you back. You stumble to the floor, grunting from the pain that shoots up your arm from landing on your elbow. You look up at him, your eyes wide with fear.

I shoulda known it when I looked in your red hot eyes…

“That's what it says in your contract, or do you not remember?” He takes a step closer, standing over you. His voice is low and dangerous, but he has no use for yelling anymore as he speaks to you. “You take care of all my needs—no protests, no complaints. Those words say that you do whatever I want, whenever I want it, however I want it. And if you complain, I take away everything you know, drop you back in your sad little district, and put your name back in the raffle one hundred times over.”

You should have known it from the beginning. A deal so good had to come with a hell of a lot of strings. From the very beginning, he had been lying to you with the idea of a shiny new life.

Spewing all your red hot lies…

He stares at you, his jaw clenched, his breath slowing to a gentler seethe. He lifts his chin, collecting himself as he takes a steadying breath. He kneels in front of you, resting his elbow on his knee.

His voice is a whisper. “You belong to me.” His tone is final, definite. “If I say speak, you say?”

Your breath trembles with a mix of anger and fear as you look up at him, tears threatening to well in your eyes but refusing to breach the surface and give him the satisfaction. Your lips part, though you hardly give yourself space to speak.

“Yes, Coryo.”

“If I say jump, you say?”

“Yes, Coryo.”

His hand wraps around your throat, pulling you forward enough so that your faces are once again only inches apart. “And if I say open your mouth, you get on your knees and drop your jaw.”

You stare at him, your gaze so close to blurring as you sigh, choked up from his suddenly poor treatment of you. “Yes, Coryo.”

The smallest smirk creeps over his lips and threatens the rest of your already weak composure. He pulls you in and his lips press hungrily against yours. It's all teeth and tongue, biting your bottom lip and licking the top of your mouth. You want to resist, but you can't. His touch, however wrong, however killing, is addictive.

When he pulls away from your lips, you nearly seek him out, releasing a breath like he'd filled your lungs with smoke. Your skin picks with red hot spite at the tiny moan that slips through your lips.

He holds your throat a little tighter, not enough to stop your breath but enough to make the tips of your ears tingle. Enough to make the heat in your core grow.

“I own you,” he whispers. “You belong to me. Do I make myself clear?”

Your lips part and shallow breaths pass pathetically through them before you finally respond, a whisper of your own. “Yes, Coryo.”

“I can't hear you.”

“Yes…Coryo.”

His grip loosens. “Good.”

He lets you go, standing to his full height once more as you take in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as your hand flies to your throat.

You watch his hands find his belt, undoing it with deft hands. “Now open your mouth,” he commands.

You swallow thickly, slowly adjusting yourself to sit on your knees. You glance away as you drop your jaw and stick your tongue out over your teeth.

“Look me in the eyes.”

You do, immediately. His blue eyes, hiding so many lies behind them that they brim with color. “Good girl.”

Your jaw ticks as you raise your hands to pull his cock from his pants, already hard from the power he holds over you.

What's the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself.

You wrap your lips around the tip, laving your tongue against the head before slipping it underneath him. Stroking the rest of you, you take special care in providing his pleasure as you let your lips suckle around him.

Up and down his length, you go, giving him your hot, wet mouth as he likes it—as he needs it. His hand tangles in your hair and grips it tight, guiding you just a bit to take him deeper down your throat. And you do. You take him as far as he'll go, keeping the gag awaiting at bay as you swallow around him.

I know you're poison. You're feeding me poison.

And when you think you've gone far enough, he holds you down and shoves the rest of him farther inside. Your lungs are tight, they burn with the lack of air. But you just hold onto his thighs and hope he grants you enough mercy for breath.

And when he pulls out enough for you to snatch that merciful breath, you can taste his precum on your tongue. And you waste no time in taking him again, up and down and up and down. Just like he likes it—just like he needs it.

He curses under his breath, holding you tighter as his desperation grows and grows. “Fuck, just like that,” he huffs, fighting to keep his eyes open as your tongue caresses the vein along the bottom of his cock.

His lips part, his eyes shut. He shoves you farther down on his cock as your good work pushes him over the edge. The warmth fills your mouth, down your throat in generous amounts of pent up stress. And you drink it up. Every drop. Like liquor.

Addicted to this feeling I can't help but swallow up…

You catch your breath as he collects himself once more, his chest heavy with the lust simmering down in his belly. He tucks himself away, back into his pants. And as he watches you, you lick your lips free of his poison.

He smiles wickedly, cupping your chin in his hand. “Good girl,” he praises again. You stare at him and say nothing else. He inhales, exhales, and straightens his back. “Come. We have a party to re-attend.”

You stand on unsteady feet, wiping your face clean just to ensure you aren't going back to the party with Snow’s cum on your lips.

He pulls his arm around your waist and leads you back.

At the first sight of you and Snow, the vultures swarm. “We were beginning to think you weren't coming back down,” one of them jokes.

Snow smiles, “Of course not. I just had some business to take care of. Isn't that right?” He turns to you expectantly.

You let your smile widen across your lips as you nod. “Yes, Coryo,” you say.

You can see the wicked beast glint happily in his eyes. Pleased, he turns away from you again to look at his hand, realizing it lacks the champagne flutes each of his guests hold in their hands. He smiles at you once more.

“Would you mind getting drinks for me and my guests?” he requests.

You avoid the clench of your jaw that you long to grant him, instead deciding to pull your smile into a wider grin and nod.

“Yes, Coryo.”

“Thank you,” he grins. He lifts a crooked finger to the underside of your chin, tapping it lightly. “And cheer up… It's a party.”

You give him a tight smile and walk away in the direction of the kitchens, which is currently bustling with people making another batch of the well-loved appetizers and refilling more glasses for the guests.

You pass by the champagne entirely to get to the, quite large, liquor cabinet. You pour yourself a hefty glass of scotch and gulp it down, braving the burn of your throat as you finish it with a sigh.

You replace the scotch, claim a tray, and walk out with the requested beverages. You hand them to Snow and his guest, a glorified waitress.

Taking your own flute, you hand the tray to a passing server and let the effects of the scotch sink into your bones.

You wouldn't call the rest of the night a blur, especially because you are completely aware of what was happening as you continued to mingle with the guests. You kept a hold of your wobbling tongue, and you remained civil and polite. Snow could tell there was something off—and of course he knew what it was—but you hadn't embarrassed him yet, so he let it slide.

And that night, when the guests took their leave and the party came to a close, you met Snow in his bedroom once more so he could more thoroughly remind you of who you belonged to.

And like the addict you are, you happily obliged.

PART FOUR: Lap Dog

You made sure not to forget your place again.

Weeks turned to months, months turned to years, and you were still seated at Snow's right hand as he climbed the ladder, dragging you along through the journey. You did everything for him, anything for him. That was your job. Whatever he asks of you is considered done as soon as the request passes his lips. Whatever he wants, whenever he wants, however he wants. No matter what.

You sold your soul to the Devil, and you were addicted to the madness of your deal.

“I need you to give this to Snow.”

You're stopped in the middle of the hall by some woman with a stack of files in her arms. She's got a smug face, and you immediately don't like her as she grabs the file at the top of her stack and thrusts it out toward you.

You sigh, taking it as you begin to flip it open. “What is it?”

She pinches the top corner closed, shaking her head. “It's not your business to know, is it?”

You scoff, smiling as you tilt your chin up. The same way Snow does when he wants to stress his rank over another person's head. “Actually,” you wave her hand away from you, “as President Snow's assistant, it is my job to know anything and everything about what goes to and from his desk.” You take a step toward her, looking down on her just as he would. “So I ask again, what is it?”

There's a long pause as she stares at you, her eyes dark with the hatred and prejudice that bleeds from her gaze. Capitol taking orders from District? It's unheard of…

You would think, since you've been here so long, that they'd learn that you rank higher than they ever will. They don't have to like you, but whether they like it or not, they have to listen to you.

It wasn't hard to become cocky, but cocky was something you learned. This woman, whoever she was, was born with it. And that was a plague that would be the end of her.

She huffs quietly. “It's the request he made for some documents.” Your brow furrows slightly. A mistake. Now she believes she knows something you don't. Now she believes she has the upper hand. Her tone betrays her. “Something about the Games’ Victors.”

You don't know what this is. You've heard nothing of the sort.

But she keeps saying “something”. You want specifics. Does she not have it? “You don't know?”

“Of course I know,” she lays a delicate hand over her delicate chest. For a moment, you wonder if she's ever had to do any kind of work (you know she hasn't). She wouldn't last a second…

“And I'd elaborate,” she continues, pulling you from your thoughts, “but I, quite frankly, don't want to tell you, and you probably couldn't read it to figure it out for yourself.” Your jaw tenses at her unfounded insult. You don't respond. “I mean, that's why you want me to explain it to you, isn't it?”

I got so good at being untrue.

You sigh forcefully, a long, deep sigh to try and control yourself. “Excuse me?” Does she truly dare to challenge you in such a way?

“You heard me,” she replies, unblinking.

Clearly, she thinks you're an idiot. A stupid, incompetent idiot. You want to take her words and shove them back down her throat. You want to grab her by the hair and drag her around like the dog she seems to think you are.

But you can't. You must remain civil, so the only way you can try to hurt her is through your words.

You don't need trouble with Snow for embarrassing him…

“Ah,” you scoff, lifting your chin again to keep your superiority. “So you're stupid?”

The blatant insult has her clutching her pearls. Obviously, she wasn't expecting that kind of bluntness from you.

You smirk at her reaction, no longer collected. You have the upper hand once more.

“You really think it's a good idea to talk to me like that? Me? President Snow's second hand?” You don't love playing that card, but it's a play that will almost always work for you.

No one would dare object to President Snow.

She hums, trying to seem unphased. “You're right,” she says, “I probably shouldn’t speak to Coriolanus Snow’s little pup like that.” Her face contorts into one of mocking sorrow, her lip jutting out and her brows furrowing. “She might get sad and go tell her master on me.”

Little pup. Little pup.

Flashes of late nights spent in Coryo’s room, nights where his stress gets the better of him and he decides to take it out on you, nights where he spanks you and calls you names and takes you hard and rough, cross behind your eyes. “My dumb little girl, my pathetic little whore, my pitiful little pup.”

And you would let him, you would encourage him. You would moan and writhe and bend to his will. And your fists tighten at the memory. They clench with rage and regret and the desire to be more than an animal.

You aren't an animal, you are a human fucking being.

I got so good at telling you what you wanna hear. I disassociate, disappear.

Baring your teeth and losing composure, you huff. You're seething as you speak. “I am not his pup.”

She chuckles, finally striking a nerve as she lifts her brows. “Aren't you? His little lap dog.” She puts emphasis on each word, ensuring the ‘G’ hurts. She walks toward you, but you don't move. You stand your ground. You aren't scared of her.

You're going to fucking kill her.

Foolishly, she continues on. “You think just because you won the Games and he decided to take pity on you, that gives you any real power?”

You scoff. Pity. He doesn't know the meaning of the word.

“You're his whore,” she spits. It doesn't anger you because it's true, it angers you because no one even knows about that part of your deal, and she's accusing you of being a whore because of who you are.

Her face is inches from yours, her voice trying to be lower, though it's so naturally snooty that it's hard to reach that threatening level. She sounds like a child. And her sneer makes you want to treat her like one.

“You're a fucking slut. Just a little District animal who got lucky.”

Your anger flares. You grit your teeth. You lower your voice, successfully, and nearly growl.

“You wanna say that again?”

She smirks wickedly. “You are a whore.”

You walk toward her. She's standing so close that she is forced to step back with the stutter of her heels scraping the floor.

“You forget,” your lips turn in a venomous smile, fueled by rage and violent tendencies you're trying your best to hold back, “I fucking won the Games. I killed tributes with my bare hands, and you want to challenge me?”

And you see the flash of fear behind her eyes at the reminder, though she tries to hide it. But you know fear. You've felt it slice your flesh, you've used it to slice other's flesh. You know the biting and the tearing and the clawing of fear, and you can see it clear in her eyes even as she tries so hard to hide it.

Being afraid is the smartest thing she's done since she decided to open her mouth.

“You aren't going to do anything,” she says, as a defense more than an accusation, a reassurance for herself more than a taunt for you. “You'll just tuck tail and run to master–”

You're done being civil. You're done rolling over and showing your belly. You're done bowing your head and taking orders.

If they are going to treat you like an animal, you'll behave like one.

And she meets the blunt end of your rage with a fist to the face. Stacks of files smack loudly in a pile on the floor. You clip her cheek with the ring on your finger, and you huff at the pleasure that comes with defending yourself.

Her face whips to the side. It's a full body reaction. She staggers, crying out as her hand flies to her face, unable to take the heat of your violence. She looks back at you, her eyes wide with fear, too much to have room for anger.

You don't give her the chance to make room for it either. You punch her again on the same side, this time letting your fist connect with her brow. And when she stumbles again, you shove her back so she falls to the floor.

The sounds of her pain are loud and evident. But the bliss you gain from them is only so perfect because she deserves it.

And as you straddle her body, you can smell her fear just as well as you can see it. You can taste it like the blood she tastes on her tongue as you hit her again, and again, and again.

“What is going on here?”

You're off of her in an instant—and it's no scramble. You maneuver off of her with ease and scoop up your files once more, straightening your spine as you stand back and join Snow's side with one hand behind your back, bloodied knuckles and all. You sniff, the rueful look on your face taking a moment to dissipate as you replace it with civility.

You are a human being.

You don't look at Coryo’s face. You know it's covered with anger and disappointment. It's worse if he's stone cold. You can salvage this…

The woman rolls over onto her side, holding her nose delicately as she struggles to her feet. Tiny gasps and painful moans slip from her lips. She got what she deserves.

“Sorry, sir,” you say, obviously lying.

Suddenly, you feel like you should have punched her one more time. Because she begins to laugh. It's a bubbling laugh that you're sure is hurting her.

You can't do anything now. Not while Snow is here.

She shakes her head, licking her split lip and wincing through her laugh. Snow finds that more offensive than your empty apology, more offensive than even your savage display of violence.

“What's your name?” he demands.

She straightens up just a bit more. She also doesn't seem to understand the situation because she has a snarky grin on her face that says that she believes she's coming out of here on top. But those odds are not in her favor.

“Ellyn Halper,” she says.

“Ms. Halper.” He watches her, looking her up and down, his eyes strict and cold. He makes her squirm, even as she looks confidently at him. “You're fired.”

The news hits her like a train. She steps back, faltering, the horror crossing her face. “What?” She scoffs, glancing between the two of you as she shakes her head. “She attacked me!”

“And she wouldn't have attacked someone unprovoked,” he raises a brow. You try not to smile at him taking your side—and it's easy, because they talk about you like a misbehaved pet. “She must have had good reason. Clean out your desk and get out of my sight.”

She lingers, disbelief painting her features and mixing with her anger. When she doesn't move, Snow tilts his chin down and glares.

“Now.”

It's here that her rage outweighs her sense. She loses it. “You're going to protect this animal over Capitol?” she yells, pointing at you.

Still riding the high of your violence, you bare your teeth. “I'm not–”

“Quiet,” Snow snaps.

You shut your mouth.

Ellyn shakes her head, her lips twitching. She looks straight at you, sighing. She steps forward, stopped by Snow's warning hand. She leans in, “You're a disgrace.”

Snow can't have such blatant disrespect.

“Pack your bags, Ms. Halper,” he says. “I'm sending you to the districts.” Her horror is palpable. “We'll see who the animal is. I'm sure they would love to get their hands on Capitol.”

Snow doesn't give her any more attention. He turns and walks away, your impending punishment terrifying as you listen to his steps. You huff gently at her, slowly allowing your lips to split into your triumphant grin.

Snow calls your name. Your lips fall. You turn.

“Lap dog,” she spits.

Your jaw ticks. You turn again, and watch her step back. Your lips part, but before any sound can actually breach your lips, Snow calls your name again, firmer this time.

You huff, harder this time, and leave. You try to wipe the sight of that terrible smile on her bloodied face from your memory.

“What was that?”

He's pissed. His jaw ticks as he sets his hands on his hips.

But there's enough anger to go around.

Smacking the files on the desk, just as loudly as before as you jut your finger out towards them in accusation, you counter, “What is this?”

He dismisses you carelessly. “That's my business. Not yours.”

Before he can speak again, you cut him off, speaking quickly and concisely. “In my contract, it says I take care of your needs. It also says that I am your secretary and personal assistant. I handle your accounts, your documents, everything—so that means this is my business.” Stepping close to his desk, you lean forward toward him and lower your voice. “What is this about?”

Instead of answering you, he straightens his back and lifts his chin. With an amused scoff, he smirks lightly. “You actually read your contract.”

You don't appreciate his taunts. You read the full extent of your contract years ago, and you make sure to reread it every month to ensure you've memorized every detail. If he's got you on a tight leash, you need to know how much room you actually have to move.

“Coriolanus,” you huff. You wish you could say you won't say it again, but he'd make you repeat a million times if he felt like it. And you would have to obey. “What is it about?”

He's silent as he thinks to himself, contemplating. How does he answer your question without giving you the power and the luxury of a response?

But it's easy for him to remember that he will always have the power. He will always have the upper hand.

He breathes in, and you watch his lips curve. “The Victors.”

“I heard that,” you say. “What about them?”

His smile grows. The mischief and cunning lights up in his eyes. He places his hands in his pockets, rounding his desk as he leans back on it, crossing his ankles as he does. “This deal between you and I works pretty well, I'd say.”

You clench your jaw, unhappy with where this conversation is leading. You shake your head, “And?”

“And,” he shrugs, “there are and will be plenty more victors out there fit to do the same.”

You lose some of your bravado, your anger and confidence replaced by hesitant disbelief. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Sometimes you forget that Snow was, in truth, an evil man. Between your nights of passion and unnecessary gifts, it's easy to forget about the monster underneath his façade of fancy suits and beautiful roses.

He circles your body, like predator to prey…as always.

“I make sure people stay interested in the Games. And people like to keep up with our Victors,” he turns toward you suddenly. “I mean, they seem to take plenty of interest in you.”

You shake your head, your voice weak, “Coryo.”

He ignores you, continuing on. “These Victors are interesting. And some are considered to be quite…attractive in some senses.” He stops in front of you, smiling evilly. “A contract here and a signature there–”

“Coryo,” you try again, your voice trembling this time.

“–and these rich cats can have a Victor all to themselves.”

“Coriolanus.”

He stops, watching you expectantly as you try to wrap your head around his vile proposal.

They didn't deserve this. These Victors have already been through so much and he wants to add more grief and misery to their lives?

You were already lost the moment he stepped foot in your house, the moment you signed that contract, the moment you fell to your knees in his office and had your first taste of him. There was no hope for you now.

He'd gotten you addicted a long time ago…

“These are people,” you all but beg, clasping your hands together in hopes of persuading him away from his sadistic plans, “they're human beings. They aren't animals for you to sell.”

He makes a face, smiling wide as he leans in. “They are animals.” You expected this response, but it still hurts for him to say it so indisputably. “And they're for me to do whatever I want with.”

You clench your teeth and watch him turn away again, reclaiming the file and dropping it into a drawer he pulls open. “And besides, they won't be sold indefinitely.” He looks up at you with that sly grin of his. “The Capitol should be able to have their fill…”

You scoff. “Oh, so they're not just your slaves, they're your prostitutes.” You can't believe him, though you know you should.

He’d done it to you. What was stopping him from doing it to the rest?

Hopefully, you.

“They're my pets,” he counters. He leans forward onto his desk. And he's so tall, that he manages to lean in so much that he can see each little fleck of your irises as you stare unblinkingly at him. “Just like you.”

You nod, pursing your lips. “Okay, then I'm your pet.” You lean in as well, this time. You lean in so close that he has no choice but to shift away from you. “Not them.” You lick your lip and round the desk, wanting so desperately for him to hear your voice for once.

You plead, because it's the only thing you can do. Your voice is quiet, desperate, weak. Just the way he likes it.

“Let them go. You do enough to them, they don't deserve this.”

He doesn't hear you. He doesn't care.

“They deserve whatever I decide.”

Your jaw tenses, your thoughts scrambling to figure out a solution. Any solution. You just need to persuade him, to change his mind. This doesn't need to happen.

But his eyes are so cold, so stoney, so lying. There's no sympathy there and there will never be sympathy there. So you try to sway him in the way you know best.

You drop to your knees, skilled and shaky hands grasping his belt as you begin to undo it quickly. “What are you doing?”

The metal clinks as you work at it, pulling it free from the first loop as you begin to take the latch from its adjusted position. “Changing your mind,” you answer plainly. As you loosen the belt, tugging on it to remove it from the loops of his pants. “This is what you want, isn't it? You're just trying to rile me up to get me to do what you want. I'll do it–”

“Get the fuck off me.”

He pushes you away, shoving you onto the floor like you're nothing. And to him, you are. Nothing.

He doesn't seem angry, just annoyed at your audacity… And then he seems amused. His face lifts and he begins to smile. His smile turns to a chuckle, and he shakes his head as he looks down at you, purely amused by your attempt at persuasion.

“Oh, I get it,” he laughs, walking toward you to properly tower over your meek body. “You think that because I fuck you that I actually care about what you want.” He pronounces the F to hurt, punching it while also saying it with such disregard that it truly shows how little it means to him… Nothing.

He kneels down, resting his arm on his knee and watching you with those taunting eyes. “This isn't about you,” he whispers. Though his voice is soft, it cuts like a knife. Your hands tremble as they lift you up.

He spews his poison without restraint. “You are an animal. And yes, you are my lap dog.”

He feigns sympathy and remorse that he isn't capable of. “You think I swooped in earlier and punished that stupid girl because she talked down to you? I punished her because you're mine, and if I let someone get away with disrespecting my things, no one will respect me.”

He spews all his hatred, and you take it all. “I couldn't care less that she called you an animal or a whore or whatever the fuck else because you are.” It's a slap in the face each time as his voice becomes more and more hateful. “You're my pet, and you're my whore. You belong to me.”

So far beyond difficult to resist another gulp.

You stare at him, your face fallen as you seem to learn your lesson for the thousandth time. You're nothing to him. You're just property, and you mean nothing.

He smirks, standing to his full height once more as you remain tossed to the floor. You stare at him, your fight diminished.

“Speak.”

Like a dog.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Obedient.

“Smile.”

It looks like a sneer.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Well-trained.

Your lips part as you open your mouth, dropping your jaw as you've been doing for years.

And though that satisfies him beyond all belief, that satisfaction is all he needs. “Close your mouth.”

Nothing.

“Yes, Coryo.”

Your monotonous tone falls silent as you await his next command, a dog waiting for orders from her master.

He bends down, grasping the front of your shirt in his fist and pulling close. His face is inches from his. You don't fight him, you don't resist in any way. You let him move you as he pleases, staring blankly at him.

He looks about the length of your face. His smile is wholly evil. “Don't forget what you are.”

Quiet, broken, weak is your voice. Just the way he likes it.

“Yes, Coryo.”

He hums, letting you go. “Good girl.”

PART SIX: Addiction

You hear the footsteps coming down the hall and ignore them all the same. Flipping the next page in your book, you sigh gently and pull your legs closer toward you. Just a couple more sentences is all you ask…

Your door opens without a knock, and you aren't surprised. This is his home, you are his pet. Why ask permission for something which belongs to him?

You force yourself to meet Coryo’s gaze, the exhaustion in your eyes clear. He's in the same clothes as before, though his hair is more relaxed and his shirt is looser, the top few buttons undone to let his chest peek from its hiding spot. With one last sigh, you close your book.

You slip off the bed, easing down to your knees. Letting your hands rest in your lap, you allow your jaw to drop open wide, ready to receive him as you push your tongue out over your bottom teeth.

He smirks lightly, his chuckle even lighter. “Down girl.” You close your mouth.

“How do you want me?”

He sighs gently, closing the door behind him and slowly walking inside. “Believe it or not,” he says, his voice gentle, “I'm not here for me, I'm here for you.”

You raise a brow, unimpressed and suspicious. “Why?”

Your attitude amuses him. He shrugs, taking a seat at the edge of your bed and looking down at you. It doesn't feel as condescending as it usually does. “Making up.”

Foolish hope sparks in your chest, but you don't let it show. “So you're not going through with it.”

“No, I am.” He hums, “But I can't have my pet neglected, now can I?”

You sigh, turning away from him. You don't know why you asked.

He pats the spot next to him. “Get back on the bed, my flower.”

You look down at your hands as you rub at your pinky. “Yes, Coryo.”

As you sit up, taking the spot next to him, he tuts gently. “Now, now. No need for that tonight,” he says, closing the gap between the both of you.

You look up at him, your attitude fully present still. “Yes, Coryo.”

He sighs. Coryo sets a hand on your knee, turning toward you. “You're upset,” he says. You scoff. “That's understandable. I upset you.”

You want to say something snarky, but you're on thin ice from today, and you don't need to make it thinner. You turn away, but he catches your gaze as he takes your chin with his crooked finger and turns you to face him again.

And you hate yourself for feeling cared for.

“Let me make it up to you.”

You hate the way you nearly melt. “You can make it up to me by letting them go.”

He hums, shrugging. “Or I can eat you out.” You feel like you might shake at the idea. When you don't speak, he raises his brows. “Unless you just want me to leave…”

He's manipulating you. You know he is. He's been doing it since the beginning. You'd think you had some sort of defense against him at this point, but he's had years of practice in bending you to his will, in getting you hooked on him.

He knows. He knows what you are.

You're feeding me poison.

And you give in. Because you've never been strong against him, not even for a moment. You give in because you're so addicted to him that you'd die without the taste of him on your tongue…

With a long sigh, you lay back against your pillows and spread your legs. His smile spread across his face in such a wicked way, self-satisfied and fully amused.

He sets a hand on your knee and shifts himself to kneel in front of you. He slowly pulls your panties down your legs and pushes your nightgown away, teasing you and increasing your still-there frustrations.

Yes, you've lost the ability to resist this man and his sexual prowess, but that doesn't mean you want to draw this out. It's shameful enough…

He knows this. That's why he does it.

His lips press to the inside of your knee, then further down your thigh, and then right back up. You huff silently, annoyed with his antics.

He gives you a disarming smile. “Come now, my flower,” he tuts. “I may be spoiling you but that doesn't mean we don't still have our manners.”

You lay your head back, sighing as you let your eyes shut. You lick your bottom lip. “Please, Coryo.”

He hums. “I am sure you can do far better than that.”

Maybe you should cry. Maybe if you cry, he'll think you're ugly and leave you to live back in your lonely home at Seven. He'll think you're too worthless to go back into the Games. You could sober up the hard way… He'll leave you be.

But you know Coriolanus, which means you know that would never happen. He'd tsk, tsk, tsk and tell you how perfect you look crying. He'd hold you down and fuck you and tell you to be a good girl and keep crying for him. And you would. You know would.

Besides, if he did cast you out, he would just choose someone else to take your place. Then he would do this to them.

Better you than someone else.

You look up at him, screwing your face into a self-pitying expression. Your voice is small and meek when you open your mouth.

“Please, Coryo,” you whisper, “I'm yours.”

Just the way he likes it.

Pleased, he presses another kiss to the inside of your thigh, and then lets the flat of his tongue lick along the seam of your pussy. A whimper slips from your lips at the feeling, and you let yourself fade into the pleasure.

You forget that this man is your captor, your master. You forget that he's the reason for your nightmares. You forget that he's dark, cruel, sadistic, that he does not truly care for you.

You lose yourself in the fantasy that he is a loving man who only wants to see you happy.

“Coryo,” you moan as he suckles eagerly at your clit, a man starved of his sweet wine. Coryo. Not Coriolanus. Not Snow. Your Coryo. Your gentle, loving Coryo. The man who held you when he wasn't forcing you to your knees and bidding you to be his good girl.

His fingers stroke inside of you, two long fingers curling with you as his tongue flicks at your clit. The stretch of his fingers is welcome, and you look down at his head nestled between your thighs. You whine at the feeling of his tongue, hungry and searching.

His dull nails dig into the flesh of your thigh. As his tongue delves inside of you with his lips suckling around you, you feel his nose press deliciously against the sensitive bundle of nerves, which aches for release.

Circling his head, your legs wrap around him and squeeze, the tension tightening in your belly as he works eagerly at your pleasure. You're helpless to him as sounds rise from your throat like a gentle hum. Again, you whisper his name, lost to the feeling of him. He grunts into you, your body warm with the vibration, with the warmth of his mouth, with the warmth of his hands on your thighs.

“Coryo,” you whimper as you feel your pleasure rising within you, tingling in your legs and in your toes. Your open-mouthed breaths make your throat dry, but it’s hard to focus on that when each breath you take fills your chest with more and more desire. “I’m so close,” you gasp. “Please, can I cum?”

Instead of answering, he just sucks harder on your clit, prying your thighs further apart as he licks you up. As that coil tightens in your belly, your legs tremble and almost fight against his grip keeping them apart. You grind your hips up to meet his face, he holds you down.

You know how he likes it—the grinding, the moaning, the pleading, the strength. And when the pleasure crashes down on you, your clit pulsing against each lick of his tongue as he continues to work you, you shut your eyes and let out the breathy moans he loves so much. Your chest is full of warmth.

I’m choking on this feeling I can’t help but swallow up.

“C-Coryo,” you mutter, the sensitivity becoming too much as your legs continue to tremble. You arch away from him, but he holds you tight and pulls you closer. He forces your legs apart still, not quite finished as he continues to suckle around your sensitive bud.

You gasp when he finally pulls away, satisfied with the taste of you. “What a good girl you are,” he murmurs, smiling almost wickedly—though you replace it with one full of love and care. One can only dream.

He crawls up your body, stalking like a predator as he leans in, his face inches from yours. You bring your hands up to his cheeks and pull him down to meet your lips, kissing him with all the passion you can muster. He cares, he cares, he cares.

He cares as he traces his tongue along the seam of your lips. He cares as he smooths his hand along your soft thigh. He cares as he brings your leg up against his side and grinds his hips against you. He cares as he digs his dull nails into your flesh like the claws of a lion. He cares as he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip like the fangs of a wolf.

He definitely cares as he brings a strong hand to your hair and tangles his fingers there with every intention of tugging you back to see your face. You whimper lightly, sinking into it and pretending the burn of your scalp is just the heat of your desire.

I made my choice and every night I’m wasted like there’s no tomorrow.

“You’re so pretty,” he smiles, and you fully understand the unspoken “like this” that follows his words but you choose to ignore it.

He kisses you again, this primal, devouring kiss you gladly mistake for ardor. He takes the bottom of your nightgown in his hand and pulls it up and over your head. You let him take it off of you. You let him strip you bare as his greedy hands smooth along the length of your body. Tentatively, not fully committed (you would be perfectly content with his lips on yours, kissing him forever under the illusion of simple intimacy), you pull at his belt. He undoes it and pulls it off entirely. You think he’ll toss it away, but it doesn’t.

“Open your mouth.”

Obediently, you do. He wraps the belt around your head, fitting it in your mouth as he loops it behind and pulls it tight. You nearly wince at the feeling, but he’s done worse. He unbuttons his pants, leaning down as he presses his lips to your neck. He kisses and sucks and nips at your throat, and you both let out deep moans that rumble in your chest when he presses inside of you.

You lean your head back, giving him more space to paint your neck in his claim. The taste of leather is strong on your tongue. Each breath you take is full of the earthy scent of his belt. You set your hands on his waist as he braces his fists on either side of your head. His thrusts are deep and rough. You feel his hips as he moves, his slender waist fits perfectly between your legs.

Your moans are muffled by his belt. As you dig your heels into his back, encouraging each thrust as he gives them, he grunts at the way you tighten around his cock. His hips snap into you with a greed that makes you crazy, that drives him wild. Taken by the pleasure, he grabbed the belt behind your head and pulled it in a way that made you look up at him.

His lips are plump from kissing you so roughly, his hair is loose and falling in delicate locks across his forehead, his breath fans gently across your own face. He looks pretty like this. Even with the predatory gaze in his eyes, he looks pretty. You want to kiss him but you don’t. You can’t.

He breath stutters in his throat after a particular thrust, and your eyes flutter shut as you moan at the feeling. He continues to fuck into you, like it’s the last time. There’s nothing gentle about it, nothing sweet or nice or careful. He fucks you to his own need, but knows you well enough that it would fill you with so much pleasure that it doesn’t matter if he does it for him.

And he knows you well enough that the lack of care he has in his thrusts fills you with so much longing that he doesn’t need physical pain to be sadistic.

He pulls out of you suddenly, his breath coming out in hot puffs as he leans back on his haunches. “Turn around,” he orders, though his voice is quieter—there’s no real need to bark with you.

Anyway you want me, baby, that’s the way you got me.

You do as you’re told, ignoring the discomfort in the loss of him inside of you as you sit up and move as quickly as you can with the sluggish nature of your desire for him mixing with your depletion. As soon as you’ve turned around, he doesn’t care to give you time to adjust to the new position before he’s grabbing the belt again, wrapping it around his fist, and taking your hip in his other hand as he shoves his cock into you once again.

You go to hang your head, the feeling too great, but you’re stopped by his grip of the belt. Setting the quickened pace at the beginning, he fucks into you fast and rough. The sound of his skin smacking against yours fills the room. A light sheen of sweat coats your body as the heat fills you inside and out. His name is muffled on your lips, but his grunts are clear in the air.

His hand on your waist circles around as he presses his fingers to your still-sensitive clit. He rubs fast circles against it, building you up, up, up. You can’t help but whine, you can’t help but feed his hunger as he fills you with pleasure. Your legs tremble, and with his skill, it isn’t long until he hurls you into your second orgasm.

You throw your head back and moan, the sound rough with your desperation. But he doesn’t stop. He isn’t finished. He fucks your sensitive cunt. His eyes flutter at the tightening of your cunt.

You feel so weak, tired from the exertion but not fully satisfied until you’ve given him all that he needs. You’ve been with this man for years and the conditioning settled in a long time ago.

I’ll be yours.

So, yes, he keeps going and keeps going and keeps going. He takes you on your back, he takes you on your hands and knees, he takes you against the wall (front and back), he takes you in his lap, and he never stops each time until you’ve come apart in his hands. Pent up with so much stress and spurred on by the fatigue in your eyes, he lasts through it all.

You don’t know how long you’ve been going by this point. All you know is the rhythm of his hips thrusting in and out and in and out as he pushes you down into the bed with your ass pulled up against his hips and your face buried in a pillow. His hands push against your back, keeping you down still. You can hear his breath, heavy with his own nearing exertion. His thrusts are beginning to lose their rhythm, becoming more and more desperate with his nearing release.

You can hardly keep your eyes open. All your breaths have been reduced to shallow whimpers, and as his finger presses against your clit again, a mewl slips from your throat as it pleads for relief and release alike. You hear him begin to curse under his breath, his thrusts rougher though not as steady. And he presses you further still as he moves closer, seeking his relief as it gets so close, he can taste it.

And, because you know him just as well as he knows you, you tip him over the edge as you let your lips part. Your voice is small and meek and whiny, a needy little cry that he hears because he craves it. “Coryo.”

“Oh, fuck,” he growls.

He fucks you hard in the first few seconds that he spills into you, his cum hot and plentiful as he moves himself farther against you as if he could go deeper still. And as his fingers flick at your clit, you accompany his needy moan with your own as you cum as well. You’re blinded by the feeling, left mewling as your eyes well with tired tears. It’s almost uncomfortable and you wince slightly when he presses a little too deep into you.

Coryo lingers there, his breath evening into a steadier rhythm as he eases off of you. You take in a full breath as he pulls out of you, closing your eyes and going limp against the sheets. Your body is so heavy, full of the exhaustion that has haunted you for years, exhaustion that comes with belonging to Coriolanus Snow. You wish you could slow down, take a breath, but whatever Snow wants, Snow gets.

My story’s gonna end with me dead from your poison.

Coryo runs a hand through his hair, letting out a long sigh. He picks your nightgown up from the floor and wipes the both of you clean with the smallest modicum of care. You feel his knuckles brush against your shoulder and you shiver as he lets it graze gently along your spine. He stops it at the dip of your back.

Coryo turns off your bedside lamp, crawling into the bed as he shifts behind you, a gentle hand falling to your side as he pulls you into his body. And you actually find comfort in his arms as he pulls you closely to his body. His head rests in the crook of your neck, your body is pulled flush against his. His warmth seeps into your skin and you let your eyes flutter shut as he pulls the covers over your bodies.

And for a moment, everything is perfect. For a moment, you trick yourself into believing that this man can be capable of love.

But you feel his arms tightening around you until your lungs are so tight that it’s nearly impossible to breathe. You feel his nails, eager and greedy, digging into your flesh, and you wince at the terrible sting of them. He pulls you closer, not just seeking your warmth, but seeking full control and possession over something that already belongs to him. You silence your whimper.

I’m drowning in poison. I keep fillin’ my glass but it’s always hollow, full of poison.

When you can get past the pain of his embrace, you manage to lull yourself to sleep. You rest in his clutch and indulge in the false security of his empty arms.

But your rest is short-lived. Because halfway through the night, he wakes. Coryo opens his eyes and loosens his hold on you. You rouse from your own sleep but you stay perfectly still with closed eyes and steady breath. He lets go of you completely, getting out of the bed and leaving the room with silent steps. He has work to do.

I’m sick of the poison.

Once the door is closed, you’re left cold and alone. You curl up in on yourself, turning your head into the pillow as you feel the dam break. And like an idiot, you cry into your pillow. Your chest stutters with all the pain and weariness and hopelessness you carry with you through the day, through the night. You let it out, but it never seems to fade. And as the fatigue takes over once more, you let it take you into a sleepless kind of sleep where your nightmare of holding love in your hands plays in your mind over and over and over again.

Wish I had something to live for tomorrow.

Coriolanus Snow taglist: @the-nerdy-goddess Tag yourself here...

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader smut #coriolanus snow fanfic #coriolanus snow fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #fanfic #fanfiction

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imaginesandbandfiction · 1 month

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Second Choices

Pairing: Cassian x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: I hope this makes sense lol. I opened my planning doc for the next part of Triad, read the three sentences I had written there, and then closed it and went back to a random drabble in my notes app that exploded into this. So… enjoy, I guess? There will be three parts of this total, so click here to be added to the taglist to be notified when those go live!

Warnings: Angst, drinking, drug use (slightly forced, if you squint?), a little hint of smut at the end but it doesn't progress very far

“Y/N is a bitch,” Braelie whined, voice echoing out from the restroom’s open door. Mor sighed, snapped the cap back onto her signature red lip gloss, then turned towards Cassian’s female-du-jour. She was pretty, in an artificial sort of way. Her foundation, a shade too light, was caked on with a thick layer of matte powder that swallowed the light when it hit her face, leaving her skin dull and sullen. The dark eye makeup and too-bright lipstick made her look like a doll, and not the kind for children.

“Listen, Brae,” Mor hoped that using a nickname would soften the major blow she was about to land. She reached out and laid a light, comforting hand onto one bony shoulder. “Y/N and Cassian have been friends for a long time. I won’t lie to you, sometimes the lines get blurred when they’re both single. She’s probably having some complicated feelings, since you’re so pretty,” Mor rushed to add that last part when Braelin’s lower lip wobbled. Then she prayed to the Mother for your forgiveness and said, lowering her voice to a whisper, “she’s probably just jealous.”

That put a spark back into Braelie’s eyes, and Mor cringed. She added Cassian to her list of prayers as Braelie flounced away in search of him.

Cassian hovered with his hand on the doorknob, ready to duck out the side door to sneak in a quick smoke break while Braelie freshened up with Mor.

Braelie was hot, sure, but Cauldron she was dumb. If Cassian had to hear the words, “wait, really?” one more time, he might not make it long enough to get her into his bed tonight. Just a few puffs of mirthroot would dull the edges of his brain enough to find her cluelessness endearing.

She wasn’t the most exciting company, but she was reliable, and he needed that. He’d broken things off with Skyla three weeks earlier and knew that he was dangerously close to doing the one thing he wore he’d stop doing, so he went out one night, alone, and found Braelie.

After overhearing Mor’s words, he felt guilt roiling deep in his gut. So he smoked half a joint and headed back inside. He danced with her and thought of you. Walked her home and thought of you. She invited him in for a drink and pressed her too-pink lips against his.

He thought of you.

Afterward, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders and waited until her breathing slowed before sneaking out through the window. He shoved off of the sill and let his wings fully expand, catching the wind and sending him soaring into the early morning sky.

—

You hadn’t meant for Cassian’s latest fling to overhear you calling her a “Cauldron-damned floozy,” but it had happened anyway.

“She’s soooooo annoyingggg,” you slurred, taking another swig from the wine glass in your hand. You let your head fall back until it landed on Azriel’s shoulder. He chuckled and you felt his shadows nipping at your cheeks, lightly scolding you for being bitchy. They tickled like tiny, ice-cold kisses, but that wasn’t enough to stop you. “Seriously, Az. I dunno what Cas sees in her. She’s just another Cauldron-damned floozy, good for keeping his bed warm and not much else.”

Mor had managed to redirect Braelie towards the restrooms after that, leaving you alone in the booth with Az, completely oblivious.

Azriel’s shadows had alerted him to her presence, and a smirk graced his lips. He sensed some major drama brewing and relished in his position at the sidelines.

“Why, Y/N, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you sound jealous,” he drawled. You let your head loll to the side so you could glare at him, which coaxed a bark of laughter from his lips.

—

The first coherent thought you had the next morning was water. I need water. You dragged yourself out of bed and trudged into the bathroom, gulping mouthful after mouthful straight from the faucet.

But water could only do so much for a hangover, so you threw a robe over your pajamas and tiptoed down the Townhouse stairs. It was nearing noon but, based on the disheveled state everyone had returned in last night, you didn’t want to risk waking anyone and incurring their hungover wrath.

Outside the kitchen, you heard low, muffled voices and paused to listen before entering. Mother forbid you end up interrupting Cassian and Braelie’s post-coital feast. Cauldron, even her name was annoying.

“I just don’t understand why Y/N would say something like that,” you heard Cassian say, wincing as memories from last night flooded your brain.

“Look, Y/N’s your best friend, I’m sure she’s just feeling put out now that you’re spending so much time with Braelie,” Az said, careful to keep his tone neutral.

“Well she doesn’t have to be such a bitch about it.”

You turned away and snuck back up the stairs to change into real clothes, deciding that breakfast at your favorite cafe was in order. Preferably paired with a mimosa or five.

—

Az sighed and took a sip of tea to buy himself some time to think. He’d stayed up with Mor until sunrise, talking about their clueless friends.

While your comments about Cassian’s love life had been funny the first few times, after more than three decades, it was getting old. They recognized a pattern repeating itself ad nauseam; Cassian gets a new girlfriend, you distance yourself from him and start grumbling about the girls’ flaws, then when Cas eventually dumped her you’d be back to being best friends like no time had passed at all. And if you both happen to be single, well, sometimes after smoking too much mirthroot you’d end up all over each other. In a friendly way, of course.

This time, though, you’d been much more open about your hatred for Braelie despite the fact that she was one of the more tolerable ‘floozies’ they’d had to deal with over the years. She was dumb but harmless, and soon enough Cassian would tire of her, resetting the cycle once again.

So they’d decided to divide and conquer; Mor was going to try and get it through your thick skull that you’re in love with Cas, while Az was tasked with showing the General what was right in front of him.

Easier said than done. So he decided to go for the jugular.

“Well, it’s not like you have the best track record with females. Maybe Y/N’s gotten tired of playing nice when you’ve got someone new on your arm every other week.”

“Last I checked that wasn’t a crime.”

Az held his hands up, raising one eyebrow at Cas.

“Don’t shoot the messenger. If it’s really bothering you, why don’t you talk to her? I’m sure if you asked her to lay off Braelie she would.”

Cas ducked his head to hide the heat rushing to his face and mumbled something incoherent into his chest.

“Sorry, brother, what was that? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of my shadows laughing at your blush.”

“I broke up with her this morning,” Cas growled, tightening his grip on the mug in his fist.

Azriel cackled, laughter only growing louder when Cas glared at him.

“It’s not funny,” Cas insisted, launching his teaspoon over the table. Az’s shadows caught it before it could make contact, turning Cas’s glare into a downright glower.

“Alright, alright, it’s not funny. You’re just predictable, that’s all.”

After stewing in silence for a few minutes, Cas felt his self control crumbling. Words bubbled up from his chest, through his throat, and then he was rambling.

“I overheard Mor telling Braelie that Y/N was jealous of her,” he pushed his chair back and started pacing back and forth across the kitchen. “And at first I thought, no way, that’s crazy, if Y/N was jealous I would know. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. She always gets weird whenever I’m dating someone, right?”

“Maybe you should talk to her about it,” Az suggested, leaning back in his seat. Just a friend offering a casual, off-the-cuff solution to a problem he knows nothing about.

“Yeah, maybe…”

—

Mor tracked you down later that afternoon, sprawled out on a blanket next to the Sidra and halfway through a bottle of vintage red imported from the Summer Court.

“Heyyy,” you greeted her, pushing yourself up into a sitting position and holding the bottle out towards your friend. “Come to join the pity party?”

Mor eyed you, curiosity and amusement sparking behind her honey brown eyes, and she accepted your offering.

“And why are we having a pity party?” she asked, plopping down next to you and taking a long pull from the bottle.

“Cause I fuck everything up, duh.” You flopped back down, this time onto your stomach. “Cassian hates me, but whatever. I’m sure he and Braelie are going to be very happy together.”

Mor had to force her eyes not to roll at your drunken dramatics.

“I’m gonna find a boyfriend, that way when they break up Cas can’t come crawling back to me with his dick in his hand. See how he likes it.” You made grabby hands for the bottle but Mor shook her head, keeping it held just out of your reach.

“Or you could try telling him how you feel?” She suggested, casually, as she took another sip.

You scoffed, hiccuping giggles following as you struggled to keep your composure as mixed emotions ebbed and flowed through your body.

“Tell him how I feel? Should I tell him it makes my skin itch whenever he dances with another girl? Tell him that I haven’t been able to finish with anyone else since the first time he fucked me? Or maybe I should tell him that he’s my mate, good idea, Mor. Maybe that will make him fall in love with me!”

Mor let her eyes roll this time, patting you on the back. But when you flipped onto your back, she saw the pain and longing etched into the lines on your face and stared deep into your eyes, waiting for you to laugh and say it was just a joke.

Unease settled in her stomach.

“Wait, you’re serious, aren’t you?” she asked.

“He’s my Cauldron-damned mate, and he doesn’t even know it. He’s too busy burying himself in the hordes of females fawning all over him to notice how much it hurts.”

“Y/N…how long have you known?”

“Four years,” you whispered, throwing an arm over your eyes to hide your tears from your oldest friend.

“Oh, babe,” she sighed, tugging you up into her arms. The dam behind your eyes broke and sobs wracked your body while the gears in Mor’s brain started turning.

When you finally settled in her lap, tears dried up, she hauled you to your feet. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

All you managed to mutter was, “Not the Townhouse,” before she winnowed you away.

—

Cassian dodged Azriel’s attempts at cheering him up in favor of sulking at the kitchen table all day, waiting for you to wake up.

When it was nearing dinner time, he sighed and put together a tray of tea and pastries to bring up to you as a peace offering. But after knocking politely on your door for five minutes straight, worry started worming its way into his stomach and he threw open the door to reveal your bed, perfectly made and empty.

“Fuck,” he growled, throwing the tray down the hallway where it crashed against the wall, broken bits of pottery clattering to the ground. He’d wasted all day waiting for you when you were out doing Mother knows what with Mother knows who.

Screw apologies, he was on a warpath now.

He trekked through the busy streets of Velaris looking for any sign of you, starting at Amren’s apartment and making his way through your favorite shops and restaurants with no success. Just when he was about to give up, assuming you were holed up with a male somewhere, he saw Mor ducking into one of the small cafes near the Sidra.

“Mor!” he shouted, jogging to catch the door before it closed behind her. She turned around, and a look of shock flashed across her face before it smoothed into cool indifference.

“Cassian,” she said, nodding at him before turning to the hostess stand. “I’m here to pick up a takeout order for Morrigan.”

The hostess nodded and disappeared into the kitchen to grab the food. Cas reached out and grabbed Mor’s wrist, tugging her around to face him.

“Where is she?” he asked, barely able to contain the rage flowing through his veins.

“Not now, Cas,” Mor sighed, wrenching her arm from his grasp. “Trust me. Just give her some space.”

“I can’t,” he growled, siphons glowing as if they were attempting to warn her that his magic was sizzling just beneath the surface. It felt like something was pulling him along, the desire to find you growing stronger the longer he looked. “I need to find her. Please, Mor.”

The hostess came back and handed a bag to Mor, who promptly turned around and dumped it into Cas’s arms.

“Fine, then you can take this up to the House of Wind for me. I have some errands to run, you have an hour.” Cas’s face relaxed and he nodded, about to open his mouth to thank her when she waved a hand at him to dismiss him.

But when they were back outside, she turned around to flash a sickly sweet smile at him.

“Oh, and Cassian?” His eyes widened as he froze in place, wings spread and ready to take off. “If you hurt her, I will feed you to Bryaxis.”

With that, she disappeared and Cassian took to the skies wondering what would be waiting for him when he arrived.

—

On the back deck of the House of Wind, you stood leaning against the railing, music swirling around you as you watched the sun sink behind the buildings of Velaris below. Lights blinked on one by one until the whole city was filled with twinkling stars.

With a joint in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, your mind was finally, blissfully, numb. Only the subtle ache deep in your core served as a reminder of your unfortunate situation, but even that was starting to dull.

Of course, your peaceful night had to be ruined by the one male you had no desire to see. The sound of flapping wings and rushing of air past your face gave you a split-second warning, and then Cassian dropped to the ground behind you.

You turned around and held the hand with the joint lazily balanced between two fingers at your forehead.

“General Bloodshed, or whatever the fuck,” you said, wobbling on unsteady feet as you saluted him. Then you lowered your hand and took a long drag, holding the smoke in your lungs for as long as physically possible before letting it out in a steady stream pointed in his direction. “Come to fight for your fair maiden’s honor, or just to rub it in my face that you’re getting laid and you don’t need me anymore?”

“Y/N,” he said, all the anger draining from his body as he took in the bags under your eyes and the heavy winter clothes hanging off your frame even though Summer was right around the corner. It was like he was seeing you for the first time after a long mission away, noticing how much weight you’d lost, how tired your body looked.

He set the food down on one of the lounge chairs and took slow, careful steps towards you.

“Y/N,” he repeated, “What’s going on?”

“Nothin’, Cassie, nothin’ at all,” you said, pausing to hiccup before continuing. “I don’t care about Braelie, I don’t care about you, I don’t care about anything.” You thrust your arms out wide and turned to face the sunset, which was now casting a golden glow onto Velaris. “I’ve got a hot date with my fingers later, and I probably won’t even think about you.”

Cas ignored the heat flaring up low in his belly at the mental image that flashed behind his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispered, coming up next to you and prying the joint from your hand. “Gimme that.”

You turned to face him, lower lip stuck out in a pout.

“Why? So you can leave me here and go get high with Braelie? I bet she’s real mouthy. You like em loud, don’t you? Like when females beg for that big Illyrian cock?”

Your voice got higher and higher, becoming breathless as you rambled on, letting all of your deepest, darkest, pent-up thoughts and feelings fall from your lips. Even though you knew you’d regret it in the morning, in the moment it felt so good to let them go.

“Y/N, stop, just take a breath. I’m not going to leave you, okay!” Cassian stubbed out the joint and tossed it aside, putting his hands on your shoulders to force you to look at him. “I’m not going to see Braelie, I broke up with her this morning.”

Your eyes glazed over as you looked him up and down, a lazy smirk blooming on your lips.

“Ohhhh, I see how it is,” you drawled, waving a hand to summon the joint to you. Snapping your fingers to spark it back to life, you took another deep hit and then stuffed the unlit end into Cas’s mouth. He tried to protest but you held firm until he finally inhaled. Its effects hit immediately, and you watched as his shoulders drooped, muscles relaxing. With a wicked grin, you dropped from his loosened grip to your knees, palming his dick through his leathers. “Want me to kiss it better, put your broken heart back together?”

A war waged behind Cas’s eyes; on the one hand, the mirthroot was clouding his judgment and lust threatened to take over at the sight of you looking up at him with wide eyes.

On the other hand, he had set out to make things right, to talk to you and figure out the true nature of your feelings for him. Sleeping with you would send the wrong message.

“Y/N, stop,” he grunted, pulling his hips back and shoving your hand away.

“What?” you asked, your pout back in full force. “Want me to beg for it first, cause you know I will? Know I’ll give you anything you want?” You shoved yourself up to your feet, pushing onto your tiptoes so your narrowed eyes bore right into Cassian’s.

He felt the tension that had been building all day melt away—the anger, the frustration, the confusion—all of it was gone with a snap of golden magic that flooded his body.

You felt it, too, from your side of the bond, could see the moment it registered behind those hazel eyes. It felt like the bond was on your side, snapping just in time to help you prove a point.

“I’m done being your second choice, mate,” you snarled, plucking the joint from his hand before turning around and stalking into the house, leaving him stranded alone in the darkness.

#acotar imagine #acotar headcanon #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian #cassian imagine #cassian imagines #cassian fanfiction #cassian fanfic #cassian acotar #imagine #imagines #angst #imaginesandbandfiction

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arachniee · 4 months

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࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃 ii. He once was mine.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim!reader (main couple)

(side couple) Adam x Seraphim!reader ┈➤

જ⁀➴ Summary : After he fell from grace, you did your best to move on. Drowning yourself in knowledge, hoping that if you continued to fill your mind with information, you’d eventually forget about him. All the effort you put into it was useless in the end and everything came crumbling down after you met his daughter.

જ⁀➴ Warnings: cussing, mentions of wounds and injuries, not proofread; there might be grammatical errors, mc is a workaholic insomniac

જ⁀➴ Note: Alright, so here’s part two. Not what you expected? Well, this series has more parts than you think and I’m determined to make each one surprisingly focus on something different from what you’d expect. The second part of ‘medical haywire’ is still in progress and heavy editing but it’s on its way. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this lol, word count: roughly around 6.7-6.8k part one

╰┈➤ The current situation was… surprising, to say the least. As you sat still, frozen on your chair, your eyes were glued to the young blonde lady. As much as you wanted to look away, as much as the gut-wrenching feeling in the pit of your stomach urged you to shift your gaze, you went against it. It was overwhelmingly ironic. You tried almost everything to forget him, and all it took was one look at his daughter for all those efforts to be wasted. Would you have admitted it? That the reason you couldn’t look away was because she looked almost identical to her father? The hair, the eyes, the smile, the aura, it was all just as you remembered. Was it Deja Vu? Or was it because you never really wanted to forget him?

The second you felt a pang in your chest, you tried to regain composure. The walls felt like they were closing in, the world was spiraling endlessly in your mind. With a quick, sharp breath, you finally tore your gaze from the young lady and turned to face your fellow Seraphim. She was quite confused with the situation, feeling lost as she doesn’t really know what to do since this type of thing hasn’t happened before (at least to her). Once she felt your eyes on her, she tried to speak, wanting to somehow do something to help ease the tense atmosphere.

“A-Alright! So I know that you’re really busy,”

Emily stuttered, taking a step closer to Charlie and gesturing to the princess’s injured hand. Of course, out of instinct, once your gaze fell back onto her, well, on her hand at least, she let out a smile that seemed as tense as the atmosphere. Vaggie noticed this, putting a hand on her lover’s shoulder to try and calm her down, just as how she always did.

“But our dear guest has an injury and we wanted to see if you could check it out!”

The young Seraphim finished, sending you a bright smile as she clasped her hands together. Even at her words, your eyes stayed on the princess's slightly bloodied hand. Her palm was red, red with her blood. I guess that it served as a reminder that her father was no longer an angel with blood that shined gold. Instead, the blood that flowed in his veins was a shade crimson. One a demon would be too familiar with. You let out a small and quiet sigh, leaning back on your chair and bending down slightly to reach one of your table’s drawers.

Once you told them to seat Charlie on the couch on the left part of the room, the three rushed to follow your words. Your voice sounded so beautiful, melodic even. The blonde girl swore that she could fall asleep if you ever sang her a lullaby, wait, what was she even thinking? With the med-kit in your hold, you waited for them to finally settle down. You watched as Emily tried to put a pillow behind the princess to make her ‘more’ comfortable, the other frantically insisting that she’s comfortable enough. The interaction was quite the source of entertainment, you thought. Then again, you’ve been working non-stop, maybe not having access to entertainment slightly altered your standards.

Vaggie tried her best to stay quiet the whole time, hoping to not attract any attention, especially from you. She had a feeling that you recognized her, since she was one of the angels who you monitored for the extermination. She’d always do her best to maintain her health, wanting to be in the best condition to do her job properly. Of course, she’d had a few interactions with you before. But usually, just as when you were going to ask her a question regarding the previous exterminations, Adam would steal you away from her and her group of fellow exorcists.

She couldn’t really be sure, you’ve been alive since the beginning of almost everything, so there was a part of her that hoped you didn’t remember everything that you’ve known and learned. Including her. She couldn’t miss the way your eyes flickered towards her, even if it was just for a moment. She watched as you stood up, there was always this thing about you that seemed so elegant and graceful. Something that she never was. She looked up to you when she wasn’t a fallen one yet. The way you’d take pride in making sure the people around you are in tip-top shape, the way you’d make sure to do your job with perfection. She kept her gaze on your face, scanning your features. You hadn’t changed that much since the last time she saw you, though, you did look a little more drowsy and, well, tired. She couldn’t really help the concern that built within her, you did so much to make sure everyone got the care they needed (at least when she was still in heaven), but it seems that you’ve been neglecting yours up until now.

“Gently now, let me have a look at that hand.”

Her eyes eventually landed on your larger hand holding her lover’s smaller, injured one. She wanted to help but she knew better than to interrupt an expert at what they do best. Though when Charlie let out a small hiss at the disinfectant you sprayed onto the injury, she perked up and scooted closer to the princess.

As soon as your fingertips made contact with her hand, Charlie's nerves somehow stopped going haywire. Your touch is… calming, she thought. But your hands were so cold, she didn't want to put much thought into that, so she chose to believe that it's because of the air conditioning in the room. On the contrary of what others think of her, Charlie never really had someone that cared and treated her. Yeah, she was the princess of hell, but when her parents parted ways, she was all alone in her little world. She learned that she must be independent, regardless of her royal status.

So as your hands worked to delicately treat her injury, she felt warm. Vaggie has been the only one to properly take care of her, so now that another person did help her, she was grateful for the experience and feeling of being cared for. Emily was watching intently from beside the princess, seated on her left while Vaggie was on Charlie’s right. She has never seen you do your work personally, and now she finds it so interesting. She smiled as you finally wrapped a clean bandage around the princess’s hand and tidied your equipment, putting them back inside the med-kit.

She thanked you as she stood up and tried to help you throw away the used medical equipment that laid on the coffee table. As she walked towards the trash can, she turned around to momentarily glance at you when she heard you speak.

“Charlotte, was it?”

No matter how many times your voice rings through her ears, Charlie thought she could never get used to the softness and gentleness that was laced within it. All of her attention was focused on you, each word that spilled from your lips etched itself into her mind. As she cradled her hand, which was now neatly and meticulously wrapped in bandages, she answered.

“Y-Yes! Charlotte Morningstar, but you can call me Charlie!”

She seemed to gain a little bit of her confidence now, and surprisingly, you were somewhat glad. You couldn’t deny the fact that she seemed like a kind person with how her energy leaked of positivity. But that slight pang that made your chest ache after hearing her last name never went unnoticed by you, it was subtle, but it was there. Why were you so affected by it? Haven’t you moved on and changed? Didn’t your heart and mind agree to let go for your own good? Your thoughts were running miles in the back of your mind. But that bright smile that Charlie sent your way made you unconsciously pause. Unintentionally, your eyes softened ever so slightly.

“I am (Name), a Seraphim. Pleased to make your acquaintance, young Morningstar.”

The way her last name rolled off your tongue was bittersweet. The pain from the bitterness came with the tenderness that you’ve been craving desperately for eons. You’re usually zoning out, playing every positive memory you had with a certain someone just to somehow neutralize the pain, but it always ended up worsening that throbbing pain in your soul.

The only time you ever found yourself free from those wretched emotions and feelings were when Adam was in the vicinity. As much as you used to deny it, you’ve grown accustomed to his presence. No, you’ve grown attached to it, better yet, grown attached to him. It was quite draining to interact with the first man, but it was worth every bit of energy you’ve lost, because as time passed, he became your battery. Your source of energy, at some point, that is. You soon faced Vaggie, an eyebrow raised in questioning.

“And may I know who this charming young lady is?”

What an act. You never forgot her, up to this day. But of course, you don’t know her life in hell and what secrets she may be hiding from her lover, so all you could do was to act as clueless as a stranger. You could call it respect, sure, but to you, the reason for it was because you’d chosen to just not meddle with other people’s business. The princess smiled with glee as she linked her arm with her girlfriend’s.

“This is my beautiful girlfriend, Vaggie!”

Vaggie smiled at the compliment Charlie threw in the introduction. To know that despite her disappearance in heaven, you felt a string of relief when you realized that she found her home down there. That feeling of envy somehow crept up on you. She had fallen, an angel that was forsaken, and yet she seemed to have been blessed with a better life than you ever were. You did so much for heaven, much, much more than what she has done. But why were you still stuck in your madness? When will you meet a person who’ll treat and love you just as how the princess of hell loved her?

“A pleasure to meet you as well.”

You nodded in acknowledgement, Vaggie doing the same, though it seemed more like a bow in your opinion. But you didn’t dwell on that any further. Charlie smiled, very happy with your little interaction. The princess of hell reminded you so much of Emily, in many ways too. The said Seraphim soon took her place beside you as you handed the princess a few packets of new bandages, just in case her injury bleeds more than anticipated. She thanked you and pocketed the little packets before reaching for her wallet. Emily saw this and immediately spoke, waving her hands dismissively at Charlie.

“Oh, no no, Let me pay! I was responsible, after all.”

She urged Charlie to keep her money, but the princess insisted. Vaggie couldn’t help but smile a little, uncharacteristically maybe, but seeing how similar the two are, she had hopes that they’d become good friends and that Emily may be able to provide great assistance to her lover’s dream. The more support they have, the more convincing it would be for others.

“There’s no need for such.”

Your voice interrupted their little, polite bickering. You somehow regret it now as the two included you in their small quarrel. You sweatdropped as they continued insisting on paying. Emily almost shoved the money in your hands, though another voice rang through all the chaos. Vaggie’s smile fell as she realized that the cute, wholesome, and amusing little fight was interrupted.

“Doc, lab room 4 has been prepared and is ready as per your orders.”

You recognized the voice from the other side of the door, one of your newer scientists. You focused on the young girls before you, sighing quietly with content now that this little feud can be avoided. The princess and young seraphim were still trying to get you to accept the money, but you raised your hand to dismiss their attempts. Watching them deflate as they finally accepted the fact that you won’t take their money. You found it very amusing, as did Vaggie. You walked back to your table, going around it and grabbing the white lab coat that rested on your chair.

“It has been a pleasure to meet you, young Morningstar. But duty calls, as they say.”

The moment you turned around, she was sure that you really were the woman that her father secretly drew when she was still a child. The colors of your wings were almost the exact same shade, exact same size in terms of proportions with the drawing that she vividly remembered. They were so captivating, though she’d only been able to see a glimpse of them, a small portion peeking from above your shoulders, a little bit from your sides, and below your hips. She didn’t notice it before, but you seemed to fold your wings, it was a random thought but she found it quite cute.

Emily soon broke the silence that fell upon the room after a while, deeming it time for them to depart and leave you to work. Vaggie nodded along as she held Charlie’s uninjured hand and gestured to the door. The princess thanked you again along with Emily and Vaggie. But before they could exit the room, your voice called out to them, or to her, at least.

“May I have a word with you privately, Vagatha?”

On que, Charlie was confused on why her girlfriend seemed to tense up at your request. The princess herself was quite perplexed with it, but she didn’t really have a reason to stop Vaggie. It’s not like you were going to hurt her, right? She soon joined Emily after telling her girlfriend that they’d be waiting in the hospital’s lobby.

As Charlie and the young seraphim walked down the halls, a few angels greeted them here and there, the princess realized something. You knew Vaggie’s real name? Did you know her prior to this meeting? Is that why Vaggie was so nervous when you asked to talk to her? But how’d you know each other? She was a demon, and you were an angel, not only an angel, a seraphim at that. Her thoughts were running a mile per minute, very confused and yet interested in this matter. She’d have to ask her girlfriend about this after you’ve had you talk.

Once the two had left, the silence filled the room once again. Vaggie didn’t speak, waiting for you to speak and tell her why you held her back. She watched as you made your way to the front of your table, leaning back on it slightly. Your gaze was hard and piercing, just like the atmosphere in the room. Her nerves were going crazy, she was sure that you’d ask her about what happened to her, and the thought itself made her frown.

But as soon as she raised her gaze to meet yours, she was speechless. Mouth slightly agape, eyes wide and her eyebrows way above them. For the first time since they entered the room, your face was painted beautifully with a smile. It was small, anyone else wouldn’t have noticed it, but she did. And she knew. The way your eyes were softly scanning her face, the way you seemed to look…content? No words seem to come out of her, staring back at you with what she hoped was the same amount of tranquility as yours.

“I’m glad to have met you once again, Vagatha.”

Your aura was nothing short of relaxed, as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You may not admitted it to anyone, but you’ve grown to be slightly attached to all of your patients, including the exterminators. As much as you were against their job, you still did yours. And that was to make sure that they were well. After Vagatha’s disappearance, you were very concerned for her. She had been lost and left back at hell, a place where nothing but bad happened. You wanted to go down there yourself, but Sera reminded you of your duties. You realized that Vagatha may have needed you, but heaven needed you more. The guilt was killing you, and you suspected that she may not have been feeling well which is why she must’ve lost to a demon. You were partially responsible, in a way.

Vagatha was still star-struck. All her (after) life in heaven, you were there. Monitoring her health, her mental state, and her overall well-being. She knew you did it for the extermination’s sake, but she hoped, deep down, that you did it because you genuinely cared. You were like a big sibling to all the exorcists, always scolding them if they were eating too much junk food. She’d remember the times that you’d spend your rare, 10 minute breaks to watch them train. Sometimes you’d give advice, informing them of a body’s weak spots, you knew that an angel and a demon’s biology may be different, you still wanted to tell them hoping that the information helped. And they were thankful for it, just the thought that you wanted to help, it was enough. You were their family, you were her family.

When she was left to die in the Pride ring, she met Charlie, who then became her family. She may have lost you, she knew you’d be happy that she found home in hell. She didn’t regret anything. She didn’t regret letting that demon child escape and all the consequences that came with it. She promised you that she’d be the best. She didn’t just mean that in her job, she meant it as a person. And she knew you’d understand her, not like the others.

With every passing day, she hoped that you didn’t forget about her. As selfish as that wish was, she still wanted to see you again. She didn’t know how, but she wanted to meet you again. When Charlie brought up the idea of the redemption program for demons, she genuinely supported her lover. But there was a small sliver of desire in her actions, an intention to reunite with you. And to know that you still remembered her, it filled her heart with warmth just like how you used to.

No word in the dictionary could ever describe the way she was feeling. She was overwhelmed with emotions, trying so hard not to let these feelings activate the water works. But when your steps echoed through the silence, she felt your arms cage her in a secure embrace. It was like you were afraid of letting go and potentially losing her again. It took all of her energy to not let the tears fall, she didn’t want to ruin your coat, after all. But instead, she latched herself onto you, holding you with the same strength.

She was glad you didn’t ask about her wings. She was glad you didn’t ask her about her eye. She was glad you didn’t ask about what happened. Glad that you chose to just hold her as she tried to hold back her tears. Glad that you understood. Glad that you still accepted her despite what she did.

“What the fuck is taking her so long!?”

Adam complained, impatiently tapping on the table’s surface. Lute sighed at his antics, deeming his complaining as childish. But then again, you weren’t one to be tardy. You were very particular in terms of time, at least that’s what she knows. She stood with her hands behind her back, unconsciously anticipating your arrival. She was excited to meet you again, yeah, but she was more excited to get Adam to shut up with his complaining. She needed to cool down before she screamed at her boss.

“Come on! She NEVER makes me wait! Something must’ve happened, don’t ‘ya think we shoul-”

Before he could finish his statement, Lute cut him off. In the most respectful (passive) voice she could muster up with her little patience, she spoke.

“We do not need to look for her, Sir.”

Adam grumbled under his breath, complaining even more at her words. You usually spent your breaks with him, sometimes Lute would even be around. One of those times was now, well, you were supposed to be here by now at least. But you were nowhere to be found! Of course, he’d be fussy. Meeting up with you was the best part of his day. You were the only reason he did his work instead of giving it all to his lieutenant. He liked the way you praised him for it. He loved it. No, he needed it.

His displeasure kept increasing with each minute that passed. He wanted to meet you before the meeting with the angelic court and rainbow bitch. And yet here he is, all alone. And no, Lute does not count as company. He only ever likes and acknowledges your company. He could be doing the most important things, like talking to Sera, but as soon as you were involved, may it be a mention of your name or you were present and in the flesh, he’d immediately drop everything to ramble on about how close you two were or take his place beside you and ramble to you about his day.

Sera was, at first, against your closeness with Adam, remembering the last time you opened your heart to someone. But of course, it was your choice and she’d support you no matter what. You seemed to be happy with him after all, and she was happy for you as well. And you seem to keep Adam in his place, what a great bonus, right?

Adam was about to complain again, but a knock came from the door. He instantly perked up, his mood brightening as he expected you to enter. But his eager demeanor was crushed to pieces when a voice resounded from the other side of the door.

“I’m sorry to inform you, Sir, but Doctor (Name) wanted to let you know that she’d be working in the lab and will not be present today.”

Adam was broken hearted, devastated, betrayed, furious, and every negative feeling you could say. Lute wanted to laugh at his face, he was obviously upset. She watched as he stood up, complaining about something along the lines of you cheating on him. How amusing, you two weren’t in a relationship, at least not yet. She’d be lying if she said that she’s not expecting it to happen, it was as obvious as Adam always spoke about you in such a light that it was harder to believe that he didn’t like you.

Lute sighed as she soon followed him, keeping a distance to make sure her ears didn't bleed from his loud voice. She was curious as to why you didn’t show up since she knew how close you were with Adam, and maybe the fact that you always spent your short breaks with him.

Now don’t get her wrong, though she won’t admit it, she too is fond of you. She’s been one of the first exorcists you’ve taken care of. She saw how you’d help everyone who needed you, making sure they were in top condition. She was glad you were on board with the extermination, and maybe the fact that you always made sure to check on every one of the exorcists. The angels of the extermination were almost like her family, they’d train and eat together. And she was grateful for your help.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Adam had stopped walking, thus making her stop as well, right beside him. He was uncharacteristically quiet. His head was hanging low as he seemed to hold something in his hands. Curious, she peaked from his side. Her eyebrows raised as he held a box with his name on it. Is it a gift or something? But who in their right mind would give him a gift?

There seemed to be a note on it. As Adam was about to read it, he shifted his position a little bit to hide its contents from Lute, to which the woman shot him an unimpressed expression. As he did what he needed, she scanned the area to see if the person who gave him the gift was still present. Though no one except them were in the halls, even so, she noticed a small box sitting pretty beside the wall. It was gray, compared to Adam’s golden box. But she grabbed it nonetheless. There was also a note, and as she was about to open it, she heard the man beside her scream and squeal. She turned around to face him and was greeted with a box of fresh, steaming ribs in her face.

“They’re from (Name)! Can you believe it?! Wait, of course you can! She likes me THAT much, after all!”

His previous complaining was soon drowned out by his smug claims. Wow, wasn’t he just almost close to tearing up and throwing a tantrum because he thought you didn’t like him anymore? What a big baby. How do you tolerate him? Lute will never know. As she focused back on the box in her hands, was this from you as well? She took the small note, upon reading the contents, she unconsciously let a smile paint her face from beneath her mask.

“To my dearest Lute,

Just a small token for not showing up.

Consider it as an apology.

Let’s meet another time, shall we?

Have a great day.

- Sincerely,

(Name)”

Man, you were so extra, needing to give gifts just because you couldn’t make it. Couldn’t you have just messaged them? But she wasn’t complaining, not at all. She was kind of happy you thought of giving her a gift as well, not just Adam. Most people saw her as his shadow, a person who they didn’t need to acknowledge. But you saw her for herself. Important enough that you didn’t invalidate her and her feelings, because of that, she often found herself seeking your presence, or anything about you in general. You were the only one who she could show her true self to, after all. Well, she may or may not be a little jealous that Adam’s box was bigger, she’d never admit it, of course. She doesn’t have to be as important as Adam, she was satisfied with being enough to be acknowledged.

“Hey, that from (Name) too? What’d she write? Don’t tell me she confessed her fucking love for yo-”

She immediately cut him off by shoving the note that she received from you in his face, considering it as payback for him shoving stuff in her’s. Adam shut up quite quickly as he read the note with such focus, mumbling the note’s contents. The way his letter was longer and more intimate than her’s made his ego skyrocket. It wasn’t like he was expecting you to write a note similar for Lute, of course not! He took one last glance at it before leaning back before smirking. Unfortunately, he spoke (much to Lute’s dismay).

“Hah! Damn right, it’s not like anyone else’s more important than THE first man himself! It’s only right that she put a lot more effort in mine.”

He grabbed the note from his box, once again, shoving it to her face with such pride. Man, she wanted to punch him. But she read your note to him nonetheless. Reading quietly compared to how Adam read whilst mumbling. The differences in the notes you wrote for them was (painfully) obvious. Adam took pride in that, of course. Lute was partially affected, but she knew she’d never be able to compare to him in your eyes. Though she already accepted that.

“To my dearest, Adam

Forgive me for my absence,

I know you are waiting for me.

A certain project needed more

attention than anticipated.

I’ll make it up to you,

Once we meet again next time.

Be on your best behavior until then, yes?

I’ll be waiting for you.

Sincerely yours,

- (Name)”

Adam swore to himself that he’d frame this note and keep it in his bedroom. Only for him to see. He started thinking about everything he’d tell you once you’ve met again. He didn’t realize it, but he was spewing out his thoughts and it made Lute want to rip her hair out. She gets it, damnit! How many times does he have to openly talk about how much he likes you? God give her strength or else she’d bang her head against the wall she stood beside. As the gift lay pretty in her hands, she decided to just open it once she got home. She didn’t need to hear him ramble about how his gift was better than hers. For now, she needed to focus on the meeting with the princess of hell.

The meeting was a disaster, from what you were told.

You just got out of the lab when one of the angelic court members met you in your office, explaining the events that happened. You were worried for the princess and her lover when you heard every detail. But of course, you were more worried for Emily. You knew she was unaware of the extermination, to know that her sister was the one who ordered for it to happen must affect her greatly. You still had a ton of shit to finish, as always. But you wanted to make sure the princess and Vagatha went back to hell unscathed and well. Wait, you were willing to ditch your work just to make sure they were okay?

Despite your inner turmoil, you made your way out of the hospital after informing your nurses and other doctors that you’d be gone for a while. They were curious about what made you leave your important work, as much of a workaholic you are, this just seemed so uncharacteristic of you but they didn’t question you about it. You were informed of their whereabouts, and your hospital was not too far from it, fortunately.

As soon as they came into view, you came up to them with haste. Instantly calling out to them, you soon noticed the small portal from behind them. You also noticed Emily’s presence, you debated on whether to make your way up to her or the princess. Wait, you were hesitating? Why? Shouldn’t you check on Emily first? With hesitance, you took a place beside the young seraphim to check if she was okay, caressing her face and examining for any scratch of some sort. As soon as you deemed her alright, you turned to Charlie, doing the same as you did with Emily. After the princess, you repeated your actions with Vagatha.

Charlie was surprised to see you here, even more when you seemed so worried for her and her lover. It felt quite weird for a- well, stranger, to show this much care to her. She’s used to demons being fussy and mean upon meeting her, then again, you were an angel. So maybe that was the explanation she needed. She smiled as she watched you check her girlfriend for any injuries. What a warm feeling, she loves it.

“(Name)? What are you doing here?”

Emily asked first, wondering why you were here and not doing your work. Which is really important, by the way. She had a feeling Charlie and Vaggie were confused by your presence. You took a glance at her before turning back to the princess. A soft hand coming up to brush her bangs a little bit to the side, giving you a clearer view of her face.

Your touch is just as warm as the feeling you give her, she thought. Will you still be this kind to her after you heard her plan? Or would you go against it like Sera and the others? She hoped that you’d still be the same, welcoming and warm. Heck, she wanted you to agree with her plan. But it wasn’t impossible for you to deny her anymore of her dreams. What if you deemed redemption as ridiculous? Would you still look at her with the same, kind expression as you’re doing right now? Each question that ran through every corner and crevice of her mind, she started losing even more hope. You spoke to Charlie, voice barely above a whisper. But everyone heard it as clear as day, immediately perking up with wide eyes.

“You have me on your side, young Morningstar.”

The feeling of warmth from deep within Charlie started sparking into firecrackers at your words. Her eyes instantly brightened as her whole demeanor did. Her smile was sparkling, and you somehow found yourself trying to mirror it with your own. This caused even more reactions, more specifically from Emily. She hasn’t seen you smile like this in ages, thus she too smiled with happiness at the sight before her. Now, Vagatha was no different, a bright smile painted on her face as well.

As you exchanged a few more words, laughs, and smiles, you knew you all had to get going. Your duties were probably piling up so high despite only being gone for less than an hour. With a last hug, you made sure to inform them of your stand once again. That you were on their side. It was all Charlie needed as a push to not lose all hope. To know that someone from heaven, one of the highest authorities, believed her and supported her dream. It was a solid factor to achieve the success of her plans, your support, that is.

As you pulled away from each other’s embrace, Emily smiled as the princess and her lover thanked you once again. You were so amazing in her eyes. Aside from her sister, you were always the one she looked up to the most. After the revelation of the extermination, she started losing trust in Sera. Was there anything else that her sister had hid from her? Not only did she lie to her, Sera was even the one who ordered the extermination that killed many souls! Yes, they were demons, but she too believed that they deserved a second chance.

You and your fellow seraphim watched as the princess and her lover waved goodbye, soon entering the portal that would send them back home. You turned around as your phone started vibrating, excusing yourself from Emily and answering it. Unbeknownst to you, another person from the other side of the portal had recognized you despite only seeing the back of your head and your wings.

Lucifer stood near the portal, waiting for his daughter and Vaggie. He relaxed as soon as he saw that they were alright and smiling. It made him think that heaven actually agreed to her plan for a second. He watched as Vaggie came out from the portal first, extending her hand to it. Soon enough, Charlie came out of it as well, her hand in Vaggie’s.

Though he immediately rushed to his daughter once he saw the bandages wrapped around her hand. Asking her a bunch of questions such as “What the fuck happened?” and “Who did this to you?” Though his daughter would just brush her hand off and dismiss the topic, telling him it was merely an accident. But Lucifer wasn’t buying it, so he turned to the portal, making his way towards it before it closed.

He was stuck in his place, eyes wide, mouth agape as he drank in the sight before him. Time must’ve stopped because he couldn’t move nor speak at all. His gaze remained solely on the figure that had him frozen. Everything came rushing down at him, all the memories, all the experiences, all the pain. How funny, wasn’t he the one who turned away from you? So why was he so suffocated by just a glance at your back? He didn’t even know if it was really you. What if this person just had a similar hair color and the exact same wings? Yeah, what if?

You’ve grown taller, he noted.

He'd remember the times he would ask you to grab a book for him, which just happens to be on the highest of shelves. How convenient. He wasn't really interested in whatever topic the book discussed, no, he just wanted your attention. He'd be beaming with joy as soon as you stood up from where you sat, taking your place beside him and extending a hand to grab the book he was asking for. He'd thank you with a kiss, taking pride in the light sign of embarrassment on your face. You'd let out a small huff of air in amusement as he pretended to read the book's contents right after.

Your hair has somehow grown longer than what he remembered.

He'd remember the times that he would visit your libraries, searching every corner and crevice just to find you peacefully sleeping on one of the tables with your head on top of the book that rested on the wooden surface. He'd debate on whether he'd wake you up or not. But as soon as he heard your soft snoring, he'd smile and take a seat beside you. You were breathtaking, he thought. The way your skin reflected the sunlight, the way your hair would shine just as bright. Unconsciously, his hand would take a few strands of your hair, gently caressing them with his fingers. Soft, that was the only thought he had in mind.

Your wings were as beautiful and captivating as ever, were they still as soft as he recalled?

He'd remember the times he'd practically beg you to let him touch your wings. You would often tell him to touch his own, but of course, he wanted to know how yours felt. Even after no matter how much you have allowed his fingertips to glide over you feathers, he's never gotten over how fluffy they felt under his touch. Sometimes, you'd be reading the most boring book (according to him) and he'd be seated beside you, leaning all of his body weight on your wings. You'd even let him fall asleep on them as he was lulled to slumber by your presence.

But will he ever experience those again with you?

You seemed to be talking to someone on the phone, and god, he hoped that you wouldn’t turn around and see him in this state. The tears were already threatening to fall, his throat was suddenly so dry that it hurt. His hands were shaking as his nerves were. What would you do if you ever see him again? Would you run up to him and hug him? Would you smile and open your arms for him to run into?

Or would you just stare at him with displeasure as you recalled all of the pain he caused you?

He’s been living with guilt ever since the day he fell from grace. He knew he left you, he knew he chose his dream instead of staying with you. He knew he fucked it all up. He’s wanted to apologize to you, trust him, he did. But he just… couldn’t bear to face you knowing the influence his actions had on you. Each passing time of his consciousness, he always wondered if you would have forgiven him.

Have you forgiven him?

It was a question that almost seemed like a chant, a chant for forgiveness. Your forgiveness. But he knew that the weight of his decision hurt you more than he could ever imagine. Did you think you weren’t enough for him to stay? Did you blame yourself for not being able to convince him? Have you ever regretted disagreeing with his plans and dreams?

Did you regret ever meeting him?

Did you ever regret liking him?

Did you ever regret loving him?

Would you have been happier if he had never been a part of your life?

As the portal shrunk in size, so did his view of your back. Many, many feelings were spiraling within the king of hell as he watched you walk away with a young seraphim. Those overwhelming feelings seemed to have intensified tenfold once he saw a view of the side of your face as you turned your head to face your companion. Oh, god.

You were as beautiful as the day he lost you.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel emily #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 8 months

Text

Hallow'seams

A Seams Halloween special oneshot

{ Part IV: Notch | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: A spicy T

Summary: Joel proves to you that he can be adventurous if he wants to be.

Warnings: Joel wears a slutty Halloween costume, fluff, mentions of drinking, spicy thoughts but nothing explicit, no use of Y/N

Word count: 1.7k

Notes: I was so looking forward to writing this Seams Halloween special that I floated back in the summer. Unfortunately, life™ happened - I've had a very rough month and honestly I didn't think I had it in me to do any writing for the rest of this year, but then this happened! I woke up thinking about Joel wearing a Gladiator costume and couldn't put it down. It's not as long or intricate as my original idea, but I hope you enjoy this anyway. I've missed these two so much!

Thank you for sticking with me and giving me so much love, I really don't deserve you all 🧡 Happy Halloween!

Joel pushes open the door to the High Street Outfitters, one booted foot steps over the threshold -

And he stops and stares.

Pumpkins of all sizes, some more crudely carved than others, seem to occupy every conceivable surface. Black cat and broomstick decals adorn the worn wooden walls, while hand-pulled cotton cobweb the ceilings.

When his feet unstick and move into the empty shop, he nearly topples a huge cauldron of what looks like homemade candy. Steadying it with his hands, he mutters under his breath. 'What the f-'

He would never admit it, but he nearly jumps out of his skin when you emerge from the studio with a dramatic flutter of the curtain divider. 'Oh hey, you're here!'

Stepping towards you, he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth in a hello, and gestures. 'You really went all out, hmm?'

Your grin brims with pride, and he feels his lips stretch into an answering smile as you straighten up some of the costumes on a nearby rack.

'We found a Halloween shop nearby a few years back,' you explain. 'All their stock was still in boxes in the store room, so we took everything and ran with it. It's a lot of work every year, but the kids have so much fun with it, it's definitely worth it.'

Joel hums skeptically. 'Not just the kids have fun, from what I heard.'

You cross your arms and play coy. 'What have you heard?'

'That my brother hosts the rowdiest Halloween party in town for the adults every year, and tonight is their last hurrah before the baby comes.'

You chuckle. 'And I'm guessing you fought the costume and lost?'

'There’s no winnin’ when your sister-in-law plays the pregnancy card,' he grumbles with poorly concealed fondness.

You walk him towards the racks near the cashier. 'Here are the men's costumes. We run a pay what you want system for Halloween rentals, just pop your contribution into that pumpkin on the counter. You better hurry though, things start kicking off around seven tonight.'

Joel combs through the outfits half-heartedly, when a standalone clothes rack on the other side of the room, covered with a black sheet, catches his eye. 'And what's that?'

You hesitate, and stutter, 'Oh, um - you won’t like those.'

Arching an eyebrow, he stares down at you. 'Why is that, sweetheart?'

The endearing way you wring your hands and worry your bottom lip brings him right back to when he first met you. Your shyness has always provoked a reaction from him - an understanding at first, from the introvert in him. Then protectiveness, when he started spending time with you.

And now, knowing you the way he does, with you opening up to him over the past few months, he lets his mouth relax into a half-smirk, one hand curling around your waist to pull you into his side as he teases, 'Use your words, Pin.'

You huff, recognising the playfulness in his body language, but you still struggle to get the words out. 'They’re - um, damnit - they're adventurous.'

He sets his face in a mock stern expression. 'And what, I’m too borin' for them?'

Narrowing your eyes at him, which makes him grin, you deadpan, 'It's just - they're not your thing, ok? They're of the -' you pause, and gesture in air quotes. 'Occupational variety.'

Comprehension dawns on him, and he drawls, 'Ah, you mean slutty costumes.'

He can feel your skin heat at his words as you duck your head, and he teases, voice low and gruff by your ear. 'And will you be wearin' somethin' slutty for me tonight, sweetheart?'

Your breath hitches and your lips part, eyes glassy at the turn of the mood. 'Joel -'

He isn't a particularly spiritual man, but the longer he lives, the more he’s convinced that some people are put on earth for a reason.

And Lucy's raison d'etre is to cockblock him at every turn.

The door bursts open with a brash energy that is uniquely hers (with an uncanny resemblance to Ellie's), and your best friend doesn't skip a beat at the sight of the pair of you canoodling. 'Save the making out for later, Miller. We gotta go get ready Pin, c’mon!'

You hastily press a kiss to his whiskered cheek. 'Pick your costume and lock up behind you, ok? I'll see you in a bit.'

Lucy all buts hauls you out of the shop, throwing over her shoulder. 'See ya later, Miller! You better show up half naked!'

Curiosity getting the better of him, Joel pulls back the sheet from the clothes rack, and his eyebrows reach for his softly graying hairline. Leafing through the options, he pauses somewhere in the middle, and smiles to himself.

He’ll show you adventurous.

Maria and Tommy's Halloween party is easily the most anticipated event in the Jackson social calendar. Illicit incentives often swap hands for a RSVP, with those unfortunate enough to be assigned patrol duties on the night willing to pay handsomely for a swap in shifts.

While the kids are knocked out at home from eating their body weight in sugar, the Tipsy Bison is teeming with townsfolk. The normally dark interiors are decked out floor to ceiling in garish black and orange, as if people wouldn't get the memo.

Joel was apprehensive on his arrival, pausing for a moment outside the double doors of the establishment to steel himself. But as soon as he crosses the threshold into the warm and boisterous bar, so loud that his right ear rings, he realises that his worries are completely unwarranted.

No one even bats an eyelid as he wades through the throngs of partygoers, nodding politely at acquaintances who drunkenly shout his name and raise a pitcher in greeting.

It's pure madness - Halloween stopped existing for him twenty years ago. The last time he went to a Halloween party was their neighbour's barbeque. He still remembers the Gryffindor costume he bought Sarah, and how big she smiled swishing around in her robe, casting gibberish spells on her friends all night.

This, however, is a distinctly grownup affair.

When he put on his costume and stood in front of the mirror an hour ago, he could barely look at his own reflection. But now, compared to others in the room, turns out his choice is almost demure.

He only saw Gladiator once when it came out a couple of years before the outbreak, but he liked it, and when he saw the costume on the rack, he picked it out straight away.

The dark red cape sits on his shoulders and drapes across half of his torso - shirtless, of course - baring his right arm. He's a bit self-conscious about the skirt (he's sure there's a name for it but the packaging didn't shed light on this), which sits mid-thigh, fastened by a belt around his waist. He's even wearing the Roman sandals and leather bracelet, and a plastic sword hangs from his belt - the full monty.

The vain side in him thinks he can pull it off, but more importantly -

He wore it for you.

But you're nowhere to be seen, even after he grabs a beer from the counter, having circled the bar twice. Spotting a lone empty chair at a high table, he decides to perch (pulling down his skirt so his boxers don't show) while he has a drink and looks for you.

His keen eyes scan the room methodically. Sexy witches, slutty lumberjacks, misbehaving firemen, naughty nurses - together with the noise, everyone and everything seems to blur into one, and he almost gives up when something familiar crosses his line of sight.

Joel frowns.

Hold up. That toolbelt looks familiar. His eyes narrow as he squints at the worn faded leather.

It is his toolbelt. The toolbelt that disappeared from his garage workshop a couple of days ago that Ellie swears she knows nothing about. That little shit.

Then his gaze pulls back, like a camera zooming out, and he finds that the toolbelt is sitting on the soft swell of a pair of hips, over short denim cut-offs that he's sure he's seen before, and below a red flannel. His red flannel, knotted at the waist, that he knows you sleep in every night.

His chest rumbles with something primal, and he downs the rest of his beer in one big gulp before slamming the empty pint glass on the table and getting onto his feet.

You don’t see him coming, but you know without turning around the moment a pair of strong hands close over your hips in a possessive grip, pulling you towards the bathroom in the back of the bar.

He knocks a breathless laugh out of you when he pushes you up the closed door, the noise of the party muted by the thick timber as you grin up at him, preening at the way his dark gaze rakes over your costume.

A shiver runs down your spine as your own undoubtedly dilated eyes follow the solid outline of his right arm, which flexes as he rests his palm on the door behind you, then down his broad chest and the soft belly he’s so nonchalantly putting on display.

It’s absurd, you know - it’s just a tacky Halloween costume, but the seams of your eyes prickle as you muse how comfortable he is in his own skin.

'And what exactly are you dressed up as?' he asks, sliding his free hand under the toolbelt to squeeze your ass.

'A slutty contractor,' you answer boldly, dragging your index finger down his bare chest. 'Isn't it obvious?'

'And you thought stealin' my toolbelt for your little costume was a good idea?' he growls.

'Well, I didn't know you'd turn up as a gladiator of all things,' you tease, wrapping your fingers around the hilt of his plastic sword.

It should not make his pulse spike like this.

'Not only that, sweetheart. I'm a slutty gladiator, thank you very much,' he retorts, walking into you to slot his hips flush against yours.

You shoot him a loaded smirk that instantly has his boxers shrink by two sizes. Ripping his cape off his shoulders, you ask cheekily, ‘And what does my champion demand as punishment -'

Joel doesn't let you finish your sentence, swallowing the rest of it with a kiss so deep that it steals your voice and takes out your knees in one fell swoop.

Grinning at the way you're already bonelessly slumped against him, he winks, nose brushing yours. 'I can think of a few things, sweetheart.'

Note: Thank you for reading! I had so much fun dipping my toe back into the Seams universe, I hope you did too. This is me warming up with a view of returning to writing for the series proper, fingers crossed sometime soon! Comments/reblogs/asks are very much appreciated as always 🧡

Thank you @firefly-graphics for the adorably spooky dividers!

#fuckyeahseams #hallow'seams #seams halloween special #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller fluff

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avatar-anna · 3 months

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i’ve been thinking about hockeyrry lately and then i see this…. now all i can think about is hockeyrry having an argument with yn and having to do promo after a game, when all he really wants to do is find his gf and make up with cuddles and kisses :(((

this turned out to be a lot longer and not the short/cute little blurb i initially planned. enjoy more shenanigans from hockey harry and skater reader!

Hockey player! Harry x Figure Skater! Reader

"So, Harry, what are your thoughts on the team's performance tonight?"

You watched the screen in front of you begrudgingly, sticking your spoon in your bowl of ice cream and eating it, perhaps a little too aggressively. But you didn't change the channel, not wanting to miss a moment of Harry on camera, no matter how much he drove you crazy sometimes.

The fight had been brief, but arguments were something you and Harry were rather good at, and this one was no different. Harry ended up leaving for his game in a huff as you rolled your eyes at his back, and even though you were more than slightly pissed off, you sat down to watch his game on TV anyway.

His team won, but barely. Harry's mind was clearly elsewhere—he took more penalties than necessary and even more checks against the boards, each slam of his body against the plexiglass making you tense up. He clearly had been in two places at once, and for that, you felt guilty. Your argument wasn't inconsequential, and you intended to finish it less intensely when he came home, but now that you'd simmered a bit you regretted fighting with Harry right before he left, as it clearly affected his performance on the ice tonight.

"Obviously, we didn't play our best," Harry said into the interviewer's microphone. "I'm certainly disappointed in myself. In more ways than one."

His poor eyes were tired, bags hanging beneath them, his nose red and irritated. And his voice was hoarse too, unlike the way it normally was when he first woke up in the morning. From that to his pale skin, you could've sworn Harry had gotten sick in the few hours he'd been gone.

"How do you unwind after a game that was tough both physically and mentally like tonight?"

Harry rubbed a tired hand over his entire face. He was polite, but you could tell a post-game interview was the last place he wanted to be. "Erm, just go home. Rest, meditate, I guess."

"Meditate? You meditate? Can you walk us through that process?"

"Uh..." You watched Harry visibly deflate on camera but stay where he was. With a sniffle, he continued. "There's not much to it. Just measured breathing, peace and quiet, and going to bed early."

"Well, we won't keep you from your post-game meditation, Harry. Just one last question!"

You watched the interview wrap up and the sports channel switch over to a broadcast of a different game. Waiting for him to come home, you began to prepare for bed. You set out Harry's softest sweats and favorite crew neck, put new essential oils in the diffuser by his bed, and a new box of tissues along with a steaming mug of tea. You were almost positive he was sick, and when Harry was sick...he became something of a little baby. But he was your baby to take care of, even if you had just been arguing a few hours ago.

A little while later, the lock clicked and the sound of shuffling feet echoed through the apartment. A cough and a sniffle followed, and you could already picture his curls flopping against Harry's forehead clumsily as he rubbed his hand against his nose, the green of his eyes bright against tired redness.

"Y/n?" he called. "I'm sorry about our fight earlier. I know we left things on a sour note, but can we press pause on it for now and pick it up on it in a few days? I'm not feeling—"

"It's fine, H," you said, appearing from your bedroom. Your eyes softened as you took in his rumpled suit, the jacket slung over his arm in a heap. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming down with something?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't know I was. It was just a little throat scratch when I left here, and then—"

He stopped to cough, and you could see him wince as if it hurt his chest. Taking the jacket and duffle bag off his shoulder, you set it down and took his hand, squeezing it as the coughing fit ended. You pulled him down the hall toward your bedroom, ignoring his questions and protests until they stopped when you finally reached the threshold.

"What's all this?" Harry asked, hooded eyes sleepily scanning everything you'd set up.

"Change. Lie down. I'll bring dinner in a few minutes."

"For me?" he said, a little smirk stretching across his face. "You never cook."

"Don't get too excited, it's canned soup," you said, feeling flustered beneath his stare all of a sudden.

You did things for Harry, of course you did. Was it a bad thing that he seemed surprised that you wanted to take care of him? A few years ago, sure, but things were different now. It was only occasionally now that you found him irritating. He was only teasing you, and honestly, you would've done the same if the roles were reversed.

Leaving Harry to change, you got started on heating up his soup. He probably should've had something more substantial than soup from a can, but you hadn't completely ruled out him having the flu yet and wanted to air on the side of caution.

Once everything was set—hot soup, a cup of tea, and some medicine all arranged on a tray—you brought it to the bedroom and set it on Harry's lap. He smiled tiredly at you, mumbling his thanks before digging in. You watched him eat, unsure of what else you should do in the meantime. Harry had asked when he came home to press pause on the argument you'd had before his game, but now you didn't know what to say, argument or otherwise. You wondered if the silence between you and him was only awkward in your mind and not his, or if he was merely hiding his frustration from earlier with you while you doted on him. You didn't want to pick up where the two of you had left off before his game, but it didn't seem right to leave things unfinished, unresolved. Harry certainly didn't seem to notice or betray his own emotions as he sipped on his tea and sniffled between bites of his dinner.

"I'll get you some more blankets."

Before he could respond, you were off the bed, shuffling down the hallway toward the closet where the extra linens were kept.

You felt like you had to keep busy. You told Harry the argument was forgotten, but you couldn't help but feel as though there were words left unspoken between the two of you. And perhaps part of you felt guilty too. The argument started out as a heated discussion, but you let your temper get the best of you, so instead of getting to the bottom of things, you ended up yelling and taunting and refusing to listen. Harry hadn't been a saint in any of it either, you both had a competitive streak, and that extended to disagreements. But this was different. You were so caught up in your frustration you didn't even notice your boyfriend was sick.

Shaking your head, you grabbed the extra blankets and went back into the bedroom.

Not saying a word, you took the tray and set it on the nightstand on Harry's side of the bed. You wrapped him up with more blankets, piling them on until only his face peeked through. Harry grinned at you, his nose and cheeks rosy and eyes only slightly drooping from fatigue. You ignored him, making sure he was properly wrapped before pressing a hand to his forehead to check for fever.

"You're fussing," Harry said, his voice only slightly teasing. "You never fuss."

"Shut up," you muttered, turning around on your heel and taking the tray out of the room.

"Don't be long!" he called, and you could practically feel the grin as you walked away.

Harry was right, of course. You were fussing. Perhaps you were trying to make up for the things you said earlier, for picking a fight with him when you knew he had to leave for his game, though that had been precisely the problem.

Proud didn't even begin to cover how you felt regarding his career. Harry worked so hard, had come so far in such a short period. In what felt like a quick few years, he had become a superstar on the ice, taking the NHL by storm and absolutely dominating his competition. Harry deserved every bit of praise from reporters and journalists, every standing ovation from adoring fans, every interaction from young hockey players who looked up to him. No one deserved it more than Harry, but the bigger he became, the more famous he got, it seemed as though he had less and less time for you.

You knew that being in a relationship with him wouldn't be a walk in the park, you were familiar with the traveling and the long seasons and everything else that came with being in a semi-long distance relationship with an athlete. You and Harry had been together since college, you'd done it and survived it, but this...this was completely different.

The minor leagues were manageable. Harry had a busier schedule than he did in school, but the two of you made it work. When he made it to the NHL, you realized that busy didn't even begin to cover it. Press conferences before games, interviews after games, sponsorship deals, longer seasons, charity games, international tournaments—all of it was one big whirlwind that hit your relationship before you could blink. And you would've been able to withstand all of it if you could see him just a little bit more.

That had been the crux of your argument. You hadn't planned on fighting with Harry about it while he was on his way out to get to the arena, but he'd mentioned being home late to do a couple extra interviews, and you just couldn't hold it in anymore.

Returning to your bedroom, you started getting ready for bed. A freshly washed face, brushed teeth, and one of Harry's old university sweatshirts later, and you were sliding into your side, back facing Harry. You could feel him, feel the heat of all those blankets you'd wrapped around him. But you could feel the heavy weight of his stare too, as if he was wordlessly trying to get you to turn around.

"I'm sensing this is some form of punishment," he said. His voice didn't sound as scratchy as it had been when he came home, which you took as a good sign.

"What is?" you asked.

"You wrapping me like a burrito. I can't hold you like this."

You smiled, the image of him frowning down at the plethora of blankets you swaddled him in appearing in your mind.

"You were shivering."

"Was I? I can't recall," Harry said. "I feel like I'm in a furnace now, though."

"That's good. Your fever probably broke."

"You know, as much as I love talking to the back of your lovely head, I'd appreciate it a lot more if I could talk to your even lovelier face."

Taking your time, you rolled over, making sure he saw the amusement on your face. The grin on his own merely brightened, and you hoped he didn't notice you blush.

"Flattery won't get you out of those blankets, Styles," you finally said.

"No, but maybe it'll get you in them with me, soon-to-be-Styles."

Your hand went reflexively to your left hand to fiddle with your engagement ring. You hadn't had it long, but fiddling with it quickly became a habit you intended to keep. The proposal had been a surprise, but it felt right at the same time, as if without really needing to say it, you and Harry were both ready to take that next step. And you couldn't lie, Harry had done an immaculate job with the ring even though you'd never really mentioned what you might be interested in. It was emerald cut, a classic in your opinion, but a light green sapphire instead of a diamond in the middle. "I don't know, you mentioned something about blood diamonds a few months ago and thought you might appreciate something different," Harry had said by way of explanation.

You used to find it annoying—frustrating, even—how much Harry seemed to know you, but the night he proposed—at home after spending a whole afternoon together that he'd planned from start to finish—you thought he was nothing short of perfect.

"Are we okay?" you asked out of the blue, though not really. Thinking about the proposal, the wedding, made you realize that maybe you shouldn't go to bed with an unresolved argument with your fiance.

Harry sighed. "I hope so. I'm sorry. I should've realized how lonely you've been lately. I know this...lifestyle...isn't always the easiest to live with."

You shook your head. "I shouldn't have unloaded on you right before you left. I know how important it is to have a clear head before a game."

"You're important to me, Y/n," he said. Harry struggled for a moment as he tried to free an arm from his blanket cocoon, muttering to himself about your hidden talent for blanket wrapping. You let out a watery laugh as you watched him struggle, then helped him peel the blankets back until he was entirely free. Sitting up, Harry pulled you to him, his hand cupping your cheek. "Now, where were we?"

"Allegedly, I'm important to you," you said, the corner of your mouth tipping up.

"Glad you're in higher spirits," Harry murmured, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. His eyes flitted over your face as if he could read everything you weren't saying, and you were sure he did. He had a knack for that kind of thing. "I should know how much time I've been taking away from you. From us. I'm sorry."

"I know you don't have much control over your game schedule, but I just feel like never see you anymore. I just want—I just want more time with you, that's all. I'm sorry it came out the way it did."

Harry shook his head, used to your tendency to hold your feelings in until they barreled out of you. It was something you were working on, you were only thankful Harry stuck around long enough until you figured it out.

"I know you are. I'm glad you told me, though. Or yelled it at me."

Face flushing, you said, "Sorry. I'm...working on it."

"I know," Harry said, chuckling as he kissed your cheek. "But I don't mind. I love fighting with you."

"I'm so glad," you mumbled.

Laying Harry back down across the bed, you wrapped your arms around him. You kissed his cheek and his neck, his skin warm but not feverish. The skin of his cheek was soft against your lips, making you nuzzle your nose deeper into him. Your legs tangled with his as Harry nestled deeper into your arms. Easing up just a little, you leaned back enough to run a hand through his hair, making sure your nails scratched against his scalp the way he liked it.

"Mm. This is almost better than makeup sex," he murmured.

Leaning forward, you nipped at the shell of Harry's ear. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Hey. I said almost."

You chuckled quietly in his ear before placing another little kiss to his temple. Nudging him with his nose one more time, you said, "Maybe after the playoff season is over, we can go somewhere. Somewhere warm. Maybe even tropical. You can take some time off once the season is officially over, right?"

"I do love seeing you in a bikini—Ow! What? You want me to lie?" Harry said, crying out when you pinched his side.

"You're such a guy sometimes, I swear," you grumbled.

Harry's face split into a grin, and you could feel it as you kept nuzzling his cheek. "So I find my fiance attractive. Since when is that a crime?"

"Someone's feeling better all of a sudden." You began to untangle yourself from Harry, but he held you in place. When you tried to wriggle away from him, he held you in place, wrapping around you like moss on a limb until he had you pinned to the mattress.

"Don't act like you don't like it," he said. "Or that you don't think the same things about me."

"Aren't you sick? Go to sleep!" you said, trying not to smile as he began to kiss you all over just like you'd been doing to him.

"Admit it or you're not getting a vacation," he taunted, his kisses along your neck becoming longer, more languid.

Oh, I'll be getting my vacation, you thought. Whether you played into Harry's hands tonight or not, you knew you had him wrapped around your finger.

When Harry raised his head and his gaze finally met yours, you raised a single brow. "Oh, don't give me that look, princess. I don't scare that easily, you know that," he said, though when your brow arched just a little bit higher, he sighed and pressed one last kiss to your forehead. "Fine then. I guess I'll just have to live with the fact that I find you more attractive than you do me."

"Oh brother," you groaned as you leaned across Harry to turn the lamp on his nightstand off.

Harry's only response was a very pointed sniff into the dark, which made you roll your eyes.

It was quiet as the both of you settled down. It was clear Harry expended the little energy he had, as the sniffles and coughs came back a few minutes after you turned the lights off. Shuffling back over to him, you snuck a hand under his shirt and began running it gently up and down his back. Once again carding your other hand through his hair, you felt him relax a little.

You exhaled deeply, settling in close to Harry and cuddling into the warmth of his body. "Get some rest, H," you murmured, your hand still moving steadily along his back.

You stayed awake until Harry's breaths evened and slowed as he began to snore softly. Your own eyes began to droop, comforted by your fiance's closeness and the resolution you'd been seeking since he'd stormed out of the house earlier today.

It could be worse, you supposed. Of all the people in the world to argue with, you were happy Harry was the one. If this was the outcome every time—minus Harry's illness, of course—you couldn't help but look forward to the rest of your life with him.

#harry styles #hockey player!harry styles #hockeyrry #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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