#sounds like a bunch of rocks hitting each other

[dollfacefantasy]

wearing leon's hoodie during sex… he’s fucking u from behind and pushes the hoodie up to reveal your back… he grabs the top of the hoodie for leverage, and to pull you closer…

uh huh uh huh. i see your vision so here's a little drabble <3

leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v

It starts when Leon comes home from running some errands. He's kind of riled up. There was traffic, it was too cold out, there was people everywhere, and it seemed like he was the only one who knew what he was doing. He slams the front door and tosses his keys on the counter, letting out an irritated sigh and stomping up the stairs to your shared bedroom.

But there you are. His baby. Tucked away safe from the rest of the world. His beam of sunshine among the gray clouds that pollute the sky today.

You're laying on the bed, curled up with a blanket and gazing at the tv with only half your attention. Long legs lie exposed, soft from the strawberry scented lotion you'd lathered them in. Best of all, you're wearing his hoodie. An article of his clothing.

He tries to be casual about getting what he wants. He attempts pleasantries, acts like the shedding of his clothes is innocent. He's only doing it to be comfy enough to join you in your lazy day.

Not even thirty minutes later though, you're face down, head pressed to the pillow, ass raised in the air. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as he sheaths himself all the way inside you. You whine as your hole stretches around his length, accepting the intrusion. Your fingers claw at the fluffy blanket beneath you as he starts thrusting.

In and out, back and forth. It seems like each time he hits a new pleasure spot or coaxes another needy whine from your lips.

"That's right, baby. Feels so good, doesn't it?" he grunts as he pumps his cock as deep as it can go within you.

"Mhm," you whimper your voice shaky.

"Uh huh," he agrees. The sound of him panting combined with the slap of his skin on yours overwhelms your brain. "Who's fucking you this good, honey? Who's got you making all those cute little noises?"

The response is automatic. "You," you choke out as your body rocks with his momentum.

"Who?" he prompts you, wanting specificity.

Your words falter for a moment under the pressure of him rutting into your soaked cunt, but you regain the ability to speak before he could ask again.

"Leon," you whine, dragging out the ending sound.

He mumbles some words of praise, but they fly right over your head. His thoughts weren't on what he was saying either. He was much more focused on hearing you cry out his name while his eyes locked on the space between your shoulder blades.

On the fabric of the hoodie in that area, Kennedy was emblazoned in vinyl. It stood out in bright white on the soft black cloth. You were his. There was the physical and verbal proof. He pistons into you at a quicker speed as the primal part of his brain starts to take over. The part that just wanted to claim you and keep you as his own held the reins now.

Your eyes start to gloss up as thoughts melt away in your brain and drip from your mouth as drool. Your cheek squishes further into the mattress below. Everything is getting to that point where it feels fuzzy and far away. And you're content with that. You're content to just melt into a puddle of euphoria on the bed, but Leon had other ideas for you.

He bunches the hood of his hoodie together, handling it like he would a leash. Then with a firm tug, you're straight up on your knees. Your back is arched so your ass is flush against his pelvis while your head bobbles around near his.

"Oh fuck, baby..." you cry, "So fucking deep now."

He chuckles and yanks you even closer. The new angle did have him even further within you. If it wasn't for his hand supporting you, there was no doubt in your mind you'd flop forward and face plant into the memory foam.

His hips snap as though they're possessed, not stopping for the slightest break. Both of you are starting to work up a sweat, you a little more so from the thick fabric that covered your upper half.

"Mhm. All the way inside you. And I'm the only one who's ever gonna feel this," he mumbles.

"Only you," you agree without a second thought.

You can't speak anymore than that because your voice has devolved into pure moaning. Soft little cries of ecstasy leave you over and over as he fills you up just as many times.

"Want you to cum for me, baby. Milk me fucking dry so I can mark you on the inside too," he mutters.

And that's all it takes really. The thought of being claimed so thoroughly does it for you, and you seize up on command. Every part of you contracts and tightens up, including your pussy, locking him in.

That's what does it for him. The knowledge that you want to be claimed, that you love that you're all his. He shoots all his release inside you, not letting a drop go to waste.

Afterwards, he takes care to clean you up, actually ask about your day while he gets you comfy again. The sweat-soaked hoodie ends up in the laundry, and the two of you curl up in bed, together this time. If he didn't get off on the possessive part of this whole thing so much, he'd probably just buy you one of those hoodies for yourself. You were gonna be a Kennedy in no time anyways.

[moonstruckme]

you talked about bartender!sirius in a previous post and omg i can't stop thinking about it!!! could you do a fic with costumer!reader and him being all flirty and stuff (maybe even angst where reader is really drunk or has come to drink all her problems away or someone icky is hitting on her or smth?? idk i trust your judgement<3)

litterly giggling and kicking my feet just thinking about it😭🤭

Thanks for requesting gorgeous <3

cw: alcohol

bartender!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

There are three people working the bar, and you have basically no hope of ever capturing one’s attention. You’re not as assertive as the other patrons vying to get their orders taken, not willing to lean across the bar or shout like they are and perfectly willing to let yourself be pushed out of the way when one of them decides their cause is more prevalent than yours. It probably is. This pub is noisier and more rowdy than you’re accustomed to, and you’re not much of a drinker to begin with, only trying to pay your tax to sit with the friend that invited you here. You’re considering abandoning the endeavor entirely when the next man shouldering you out of the way gets waved off by the bartender nearest. 

“Oi, she was here first.” 

The bartender’s gaze fixes pointedly on you, which is kind of a lot. He has sharp gray eyes paired with superblack hair—like, the kind of black no light can penetrate—and a crooked smile, a handsome and somewhat menacing combination. He leans across the bar, lowering his voice as if he can tell that’s what you’d prefer. 

“What can I get you, doll?” 

You fumble for your tongue. “Um, can I have a citrus spritz, please?” 

He grimaces. “Wish you could,” he says, “but we just ran out of that gin. Got a second choice?” 

“Oh, uh...” You’d only found your first choice after perusing their menu and asking your friend what each thing was, so no, you do not. You take a step back from the bar, yielding your time. “Sorry, I’ll have to—” 

“No, come on, it’s alright.” The bartender doesn’t move, but his voice is loud enough that it reaches you, gets you to turn around. He’s on you with that smile again, one hand beckoning you towards him. “We’ll figure something out for you, sweetheart. Come back here.” 

You step up to the bar stiffly, more than aware of the irritated looks being shot your way by other patrons. 

“What do you like?” he asks you. 

You feel your eyebrows pinch, shaking your head helplessly. Your face feels like it could heat a small home. “I don’t—I’m not sure, sorry.” 

“You’re alright,” he promises, grin vanishing for a moment as he cuts a glare towards a man trying to talk over you. It’s back before you can miss it. “A sweet kinda drink, yeah? Fruity? D’you want something else with citrus?” 

“That sounds good,” you manage.

He winks and pushes off the bar. “Stay put, babe, I’ve gotcha.” 

You do your best, keeping your front pressed to the bar even as everyone else moves around and into you. You feel like a rock in a stream. With no one else to talk to, you watch him work behind the bar. He grabs a bunch of bottles at once, pouring without measuring or counting or hardly even looking, and when he starts shaking it all in a metal cylinder you have to look away from how his tattooed biceps bulge from the short sleeves of his shirt. You’re scanning the rows of liquor behind the bar when he gets back, trying to will the warmth away from your face. 

“Give this a try.” He sets the drink down in front of you. You notice it’s got a bit of dried fruit on top, and then he sets a small shot glass of something bubbly and transparent down next to it—you wince. A garnish and a side; probably not as cheap as you were hoping for. “If you don’t like it,” he says, glancing between you and the drink expectantly, “don’t tell me. Just bring it to the bathroom and flush it. My ego can’t take the rejection.” 

You press your lips together into something you hope approximates a smile and take a careful sip. It is sweet. You can barely taste the alcohol. You rub your lips together as you set it down, hoping you haven’t gotten foam on your mouth. 

“It’s really good,” you tell him honestly, and he grins in response. You raise it to your lips for more. “What is it?” 

“A pornstar martini.” 

You nearly spit foam right at him, somehow reversing at the last moment so you take in a hearty sip instead. His grin widens, showing canines, like he knew the effect the name would have on you. It should make you feel childish, but he doesn’t seem like he’s laughing at you so much as with you. 

“It’s good,” you say again, taking out your card. “Thank you.” 

He holds up his hands, stepping away from your credit card like it’s a weapon. “Put that thing away,” he says. “You’re insulting me, dollface.” 

You let your card hover in the air between you, unsure. “I can’t let you—”

“Sure you can. You have to,” he insists, setting both hands on the bar and leveling you with a significant look. You can’t look back for more than a second before your gaze flees downward. “If I can’t comp a pretty girl’s drink, what am I doing here?” He lowers his voice, leaning across the bar so his face is just a few inches from yours. “And if I can’t add a pretty girl’s drink to a tosser’s tab—” he flicks his gaze over to the man who’s been especially persistent in trying to get his order in over yours since you’ve come up “—then I may as well quit.”

You press your lips together, trying desperately to keep from looking as flattered and flustered as you feel. 

“You don’t want to leave me without purpose, do you?” 

“No.” You smile down at the bar, privately rolling your eyes. When you glance back up, there’s a waggishness in his eyes that suggests he saw. “Thanks.” 

“Thank you. Have a good night.” 

“You too.” 

You turn, starting back for your table, but stall a couple of steps in. Your seat’s been taken by a man around your age, all smiley and nodding as your friend talks. They’ve both got their elbows leaned on the table, eyes locked like they’re in some sort of competition. And you may not spend a lot of time in pubs, but you know enough to stay away when two people are looking at each other like that. 

You stand awkwardly on the fringes of the bar crowd, looking around for another empty table, but it’s too crowded tonight; there are none. You consider dropping by to tell your friend you’re leaving, but now you’ve got this full drink in your hand. Maybe if you finish it quickly…

“Hey!” You pivot, and the same bartender is looking at you again, craning his neck to see you over the crowd. “Hey,” he all but shouts to be heard, “come here.” 

You’re nothing if not obedient, working your way through the crowd with murmured apologies and your eyes on the ground to ensure you don’t step on anyone’s toes. When you get up to the bar, he’s waiting for you, holding up a hand to pause the man—the tosser, he’d dubbed him—trying to talk to him. You wonder if he’d halted his order halfway through. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, eyebrows twitching together. “You looked lost over there, babe.”

“Sorry,” you say, though you’re not sure what for. “I just—my seat was taken, so I was just trying to figure out—”

“You can sit here.” 

You blink, and he motions to the stools tucked under the bar in front of you, the ones nobody’s using. “I mean, you don’t have to,” he says, the closest thing to hesitant you’ve seen from him yet, “but you’re welcome to. I could use some good-looking company. We’re severely lacking over here.” 

“Fuck off,” says another bartender, skimming behind him to grab a bottle off a shelf. 

“Not counting you, Marls.” He shoots a sharp-edged grin towards the blond woman before fixing it back on you. His eyebrow twitches slightly in question. 

“Okay.” You pull a seat out. “Okay, thanks.” 

“Don’t thank me, doll, you’re doing me a favor.” He sets his forearms on the bar, leaning towards you like you’re having a far more private conversation. “I’m Sirius.” Something about him softens when you tell him your name in response, and you get the sense he’s been waiting for it. He repeats it back to you like it’s something special. “Alright, y/n, enjoy your drink, and I’ll try to be as decent company as I can while dealing with these pricks.” He makes no effort to keep the man beside you from hearing, then turns to him with an extremely false-looking smile. “Hi, what can I get you?” 

Even as the man starts giving his order, Sirius’ eyes flicker your way to see if he made you smile. He did.

[twola]

cough so i know you have that one lh!arthur drabble thing but pleaseee ( and thank you if you do ) more of lh!arthur being a dick

You gasp aloud, trying not to moan, knowing how dangerously close you are to camp. The tree bark is rough against your palms as you brace yourself against it.

The man moving behind you is rough as well.

“God, ngh, what a pretty little thing you are.”

His hands, weathered and calloused, grip either side of your hips, his fingers leaving bruises - like he seemingly always does each time. Your skirts are flipped up and over your waist as you bend forward, your nails biting into the tree as he crashes into you.

Your ivory colored bloomers stand out starkly on the ground a few feet away.

He smacks your ass with an open palm, and you bite your lower lip not to yelp as his hips bounce against yours.

The campfire glitters in the distance, but here, away from camp, the two of you cavort in a sordid affair. The clicking of his spurs as he adjusts his footing rings out in the night, and he lets out a long breath through his nose before resuming.

"Ar- Arthur-" You whisper, attempting to keep quiet, but the way his cock slams into you with each thrust has you squeezing your eyes shut in concentration not to moan aloud. After one particularly punishing thrust, you lose that battle.

Arthur reaches forward and slaps his hand over your mouth to stifle your cry. His other hand squeezes your hip near painfully as he rocks his hips into yours, each stroke heady and full.

You're hurtling ever closer to release as he fucks you there, bent over in front of that tree. When finally his cock hits that spot within your core, you scream into his hand, the muffled, smothered noise sounding like he was strangling a songbird. He hisses in overstimulation and fucks you through your release, his cock coated in your slick, dripping down to his testicles. It is only three more punishing thrusts until he nearly bowls you over with his own orgasm, having to lean over you and brace himself with one arm against the tree. He grits his teeth, barely concealing a groan as he spends himself into you.

He pants, holding himself there for a moment, tapping your hip softly before standing up and extricating himself. You stumble slightly, your knees shaking.

Arthur's large hands encircle your waist, holding you steady as you regain your footing. You stand up straight, your skirts falling to cover your bare legs. Turning around toward him, you lean back to brace yourself against the tree, catching his eyes before your gaze darts to the ground again.

“What?” He inquires, raising an eyebrow.

“Is - there ain’t no one else, is there?”

Arthur smirks, his large arm quickly shooting around your hip and his hand lands on your rear, giving it a squeeze.

“Ain’t no one got a tight little cunt like yours, ain’t nowhere else I wanna be.”

Sure, it wasn’t a confession of love, but for him? It was probably the best you could hope for. You remain silent, unable to meet his gaze.

“Chin up, little girl. I’ll be sure to keep you cryin’ for more.” He lazily drawls, his fingers clutching at your skirt, bunching up the fabric.

He playfully swats at your ass before leaning over and grabbing his gun belt. He winds it around his hips once again, humming a few notes of a drinking song under his breath.

“A pleasure as always, ma’am.” Arthur tips his hat to you and strides back toward camp, a notable swagger in his step.

You clench your jaw, trying to stave off the moisture accumulating in your eyes. You lean down and pick up your bloomers from the ground, hastily stuffing them in your skirt pocket.

Arthur’s raucous, haughty laughter booms from the campfire. How you wish he would smile at you, tap his thigh and have you perch upon it, wrapping his arm around you and nuzzling against your throat. How you wish he would whisper sweet nothings in your ear until he decided sitting out in public was too much, dragging you into his tent, shedding your outer layers and climbing into the cot together.

How you wish he would take you in the warm cocoon of his cot, slow and gentle, leaving you satiated and loved, tangled up in him. How you wish you would wake up in his arms.

But you’re alone, his spend dripping down your thigh, left to wallow in your own impossible dream.

[mavrintarou]

[4:44 PM] Suna Rintarou

Quickly whipped this because I'm trying to find an excuse to not go to the gym. Nothing edited. I know all I ever post about is Rin, Rin, Kiyoomi, Shinsuke, and Rin again... he was just too fitting for this. I'm really trying to expand my fantasy to the other characters.

Warning: Angst, asshole Rin, makeup smut contents .

Rintarou let out a frustrated sigh having been blocked once again. That was three times now in a row.

“Shake it off!” he heard his teammate shout.

“Suna!” Turning his head, he can see his coach signaling for him to rotate out, switching with his other teammate.

As soon as he was off the court, his coach jerked his head, indicating for him to take the empty seat beside him. “What’s going on?”

Rintarou inhales sharply, “bad day, I guess?” He knew what was going on, just didn’t want to speak of it.

“Well, turn that bad day into a good day, shake it off, everyone needs you.” His coach pats his shoulder, “do whatever you gotta do.”

EPJ Raijin lost their second set, this third game will determine their win or not.

With a towel over his head, Rin zoned out, tuning out the sound of the crowd and everything else around him. The only thing on his mind was Y/n.

Three weeks ago, they abruptly ended their casual fling.

No matter how many times he tried to convince himself that it wasn’t his fault, it was definitely, his fault.

He is a hypocrite.

He was the one who said just casual sex. No feelings.

But the moment he saw her at a table with another man he did not recognize at one of Matsumoto’s top restaurants, he lost his shit.

How dare she doll up and wear a red dress, the red dress he purchased for her to go on a date with this mother fucker.

He watched as Y/n looked at her phone, the smile on her face immediately disappeared. Rin looked down at his phone, seeing the Read underneath the photo he sent her.

Y/n glanced up, her eyes scanning the room until they met his. He arched an eyebrow at her, and she responded by tilting her head, mirroring his expression perfectly.

Bathroom. Now. He texted.

Rin didn’t need to look back to see Y/n following him shortly as he made his way to the restroom.

He tugged her into the private room, locking the door behind him. “Really?” His eyes scanned her from head to toe.

“Really,” Y/n smiled, and she gave him a spin. “Do you not like it?”

Y/n knew how to rile him up, making the green jealous monster within him wake up and flip a table.

Rin stalked towards her, noticing how her smile slowly faded as she stepped back until she hit the counter of the sink. He pressed himself against her, sandwiching her between him and the counter. His fingers trail along her jaw, “does your date know that I purchased this dress and that I’ve fucked you while you were wearing it?”

“Be careful Rintarou,” she only used his full name when she was serious, “jealousy looks good on you but some might believe you’ve developed feelings for me.”

She has become bold, voicing her feelings each day.

Rin was not oblivious. He knows this casual fling between them needs to end. He wasn’t blind to her recent advances.

How her eyes twinkle for him when he comes over.

How she holds him tighter when he’s rocking deeply inside her.

How she whispers his name with love.

How she kisses his palms before a game, giving him luck.

She is expressing her love for him in every possible way except through words. Because the moment she played that card, he would end the game.

“You’re becoming delusional, Y/n.” He gritted, his lips smirking, “I will admit I am jealous, should I show you how jealous I am?”

They glared at one another, Y/n looking deep into his eyes, searching for the man she fell in love with. Deep down, she knew her place. “Do it,” she whispered, “I dare you.”

His eyes darken and she’s flipped around in a blink of an eye. She sees in the mirror as Rin tugs her dress up, bunching it at her hips, his fingers immediately graze over the thin lacy thong, circling her clit.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, biting down on her lip to prevent herself from moaning. “Hurry, I have my date I need to get back to.”

“As you wish.”

Y/n half gasped and yelped at his hand and slapped her right ass cheek. Her thong is pushed to the side as feels his cock sliding in between her thighs.

“You’re soaked, was it me or him?” He began rocking, thrusting in between her thighs. He pulled her against him, locking an arm around her shoulder. He locked eyes with her through the mirror, “answer me.”

“You.” Y/n whispered, “you made me this wet…” she whimpered when he rolled his hips, his cock grazing against her clit. “Please… Rin…”

His teeth nips her earlobe as he reached in between them and align his cock to her pussy and slipped inside in one swift thrust. He wastes no time pounding into her from behind. Y/n’s hand comes to cover her mouth.

His groans are heavy against her ear and he hated it, hated how she made him feel. His teeth bite down on her skin, biting down hard until he can feel Y/n flitching and tightening around his cock.

Rin pulls away, satisfied by his mark, knowing it would be visible. He pauses his movement for a second, maneuvering her until she is bent forward before him. His grip on her hips tightened as he resumed his thrusts, pounding until the small bathroom echoed only of their skin slapping.

Y/n drops onto her elbow, head falling forward as her moans are muffled by her hands. He was thrusting deep inside her, triggering her orgasm faster than usual. “Ri – Rin…” she whimpered, a hand reaching behind to push against his abdomen. “Too fast…”

He gripped her wrist and thrust faster until the moment he felt her pussy flutter around his cock.

“Ah,” he groaned coming undone, pounding into her slowly yet hard with each ejaculation. His eyes suddenly widened, “fuck.”

He forgot to wear a condom.

He let go of her wrist and immediately withdrew, his cock was coated with their essence. It wasn’t a time for his cock to twitch lively again at the sight of his cum leaking down Y/n’s pussy and down her thighs.

He swore again, half turned on and half pissed off at himself.

He always wore a condom.

“Here,” he slammed a few bills on the counter, “get yourself the pill. Let’s end this.”

Rin groaned, covering his face. He was such a fucken asshole.

He glanced down at his palms, feeling disheartened by his poor performance, and was convinced that it was all because Y/n hadn’t kissed his palms before the game.

His mind flashed back to the very first time she had done it. She had come to his game, and just before it started, she called his name and took hold of his wrists. Rin looked at her confused, but she gently turned his palms upward and pressed her lips to the center of his hand. “Good luck kisses,” she whispered with a smile.

“Hey, look it’s Y/n.”

Rin’s head snapped up, and he swiftly removed the towel from his head. Before him stood Motoya, gazing towards the crowd behind Rin. In response, Rin pivoted his upper body and scanned the bustling crowd. “Where?”

“Right there!” Motoya pointed.

Rin’s gaze tracked his pointed finger until it intersected with the eyes of the pair he longed for so intensely.

As if caught in the act, she hastily concealed her face and attempted to make a swift getaway.

“Y/n!” Rin roared over the loud music and crowd chatter, chasing after her. He hopped over the barriers and ascended the stairs with determination. “Y/n!” he called out once more, steadily closing the gap between them as she weaved through the crowd.

Finally, reaching his limit, he lengthened his strides and snagged her wrist, gently drawing her into his embrace. “Stop, please don’t run,” he implored softly. His arms constricted around her, one hand tenderly cradling the back of her head. “Please don’t go,” he whispered.  

She remained tensed in his embrace and softly uttered, “you’re the one who walked away.”

“I know, I’m a fucken fool. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I left you. Please,” he pulled away, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Please come back to me, I am a mess without you. I need you, Y/n. I –” he blinks the tears back, “I’m in love with you, please come back to me, please.”  

Her eyes widen, hearing the words she longed to hear. Tears filled her pretty eyes as she closed them, letting the tears fall down her cheeks before she nodded her head.

Rin sighed in relief and hugged her once more, “thank God. I love you. I love you, Y/n. I love you so fucken much and it took walking away from you to realize I am in love with you all this time.” He leaned back to cup her face, “please, can I kiss you?”

She extended her hand to gently cup his face, drawing him down to meet her lips. Their mouths danced in a graceful, passionate exchange until they parted, both gasping for breath. Their lips inches apart, “I love… I love you too, Rin. I loved you for a long time.”

“I know, I know baby.” He pressed his lips against hers again. “I’m never letting you go again.”

Y/n nodded, “promise?”

“Yeah, promise.”

Her eyes widened and she leaned back, “Rin don’t you have a – “

“Suna! Where the fuck did you go? The third set is about to start!”

.

Rin’s mouth never once left Y/n as they stumbled into his apartment. He pulled away briefly to tug off his shirt before his mouth resumed hungrily against hers.

In the grueling third set, EPJ Raijin fought valiantly, shedding blood and sweat, and managed to secure a hard-fought victory. Finally, with the fortunate kisses pressed onto his palm by his beloved, Rin executed his spikes flawlessly, scoring nine crucial points that contributed to their triumphant win.

His hands rest on Y/n’s hips, guiding her backward towards the hall of his place and into his bedroom. He is nervous, almost shy at standing half naked before her. “I… I didn’t get to shower after the game – do you want to shower together?”

Her lips curved upward as she grabbed his hand leading him into his bathroom. She quickly stripped her clothes off and turned on the shower, looking over her shoulder, Rin stood there gawking as if he had never seen her naked before. “You coming?”

He quickly pushed down his joggers and boxers, striding into the shower with her. The water cascaded down their bodies as she reached for his body wash to spread it all over his body.

Rin caught her wrist that was lathering his chest with body wash and brought it down to his cock, he closed her hand around it. He hissed feeling his cock harden from her touch. “Y/n,” he murmured, slowly thrusting into her hand.

Y/n stepped closer, pressed her lips to his left nipple, sucking it gently and swirling her tongue around the bud. Her hand tightens around his cock as she strokes him faster.

He hissed, reaching with his other hand to find her clit, “missed this.”

“I missed this too,” Y/n squeezed his cock, pressing her thumb against the tip. She was about to drop to her knees when he stopped her.

“I need to be inside you, now.” He lifted her, her legs wrapped around his hips and arms around his neck. He easily slipped his cock inside her pussy.

For a brief moment, they savored the intimate moment of being united as one again.

Y/n leaned down and kissed him deeply and passionately, rocking her hips to meet his thrusts. “Ah!” she breaks the kiss, moaning his name. “We – we forgot a condom – again…”

Rin thrust deeper, pressing his lips to her clavicle. “I’m clean, there – there’s been no one but you…”

Y/n’s arms tighten around his shoulder and neck, her lips to his ear, “that’s not what I mean… Rin – we could risk –“

Rin is reminded of the last time he came inside of her. He is selfish but he wanted nothing more than to cum inside of her again, over again and again until he knows she is pregnant.

Y/n pregnant with his baby, he loves the thought of that.

He wanted that.

Y/n moaned loudly into his ear, “you like that?” She tightens her pussy around his cock, hearing him groan, slowing his hips. “You want to knock me up, Rin? You want me to have your baby?” He hummed, agreeing. “You want to breed me?”

“Yes. Fuck yes. I want to breed you. Cum inside you again. And again.” His nose trailed along her neck until he reached her ear, “I’m not asking Y/n, I’m going to cum inside you. I’m going to put a baby – my baby inside you.” He nipped her earlobe, fastening his thrust. He is so closed, all this promise is knocking him over the edge as he is eager to cum inside of her. “You’re mine.”

Y/n tightens her arms and legs around him, chanting, “yes! Want your baby!” Her tummy coils, tightening and her body trembles in release, cumming around his cock.

Rin pressed Y/n against the tile walls, hooking his arms behind her knees and hoisting her weight so he could pound into her pussy with the purpose to breed.

Her overstimulated pussy fluttered around his cock until he painted her womb with his cum.

Walking over to the seat built into his shower, he sits down, keeping Y/n close as she straddles his lap. They catch their breaths, gazing tiredly yet lovingly into each other’s eyes.

Y/n was about to lift herself off of him when he stopped her, “don’t, not yet.”

She relaxed around him, holding onto his shoulders. “You’re serious about baby-making?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “It sounded like in the heat of the moment talk but I’m dead serious. Were you not serious?”

Y/n threaded her fingers through his wet hair, slicking it back. “Aside from you telling me you love me and want to be with me, I want nothing more than to have your baby.” She lifts herself off, letting his flaccid cock fall limp. “But before that, let us focus on just the two of us for now.” She pressed her lips against his, “take me out on a proper date first.”

Rin grins against her lips, “a little out of order but yes, anything you want.”

. . .

E/n: When I'm writing and releasing my dirty imagination, Rin is the only one I can see getting away with this shit. He can talk about breeding any time and I'll be like... "yes daddy." Please don't be like me. Make good choices. Lol. I'm finishing up on Lord Ushijima... I'll share it soon.

@queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[saekkas]

𝟏𝟗𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖

summary: you’re not a believer in airport crushes. you think the theory that people look better when you’re bound to never see them again is delusional. that is, until fushiguro megumi comes and proves you wrong.

tags: 1.1k wc | f!reader | narration heavy | open ending | nobara and yuuji are the best wing men | strangers to potential lovers | very romanticized | megumi has green eyes here, as stated in the manga | for plot's sake, pretend it isn't weird to call him 'gumi' right off the bat

notes: megumi finally debuts on saekkas (clap clap). also, this may or may not be inspired by real life events hehe

early mornings have never been your forte. the wind bites your cheeks, prickling your skin with goosebumps that range all the way from your arms down to your legs. even the hoodie you’re wearing– the thickest, comfiest one you own, doesn’t help shield you from the elements.

it doesn't help that the air conditioner is on full blast.

“i swear to god,” you mumble, expression souring as strong winds crash against the airport’s ceiling high windows. in the distance, trees sway around erratically, crashing against each other as the sky turns a bleak gray. “if a hurricane comes, at least let it hit after my flight takes off.”

the line to check in is unnaturally long and it takes almost half an hour until you’re seated at the gate, an hour early before your flight departs. better safe than sorry, your mother always said.

the seating area is nothing but crowded, and as pregnant mother tries to calm her baby’s wails by swaddling him in blankets, you curse yourself for booking economy. a private longue with wifi and food sounds good right now.

tucking yourself into the furthest seat from the wailing baby, you breath out a sigh. your legs have been killing you for the past hour and you have no one to blame but yourself for not choosing more comfortable shoes.

there’s minimal noise in the area, being that it is far more secluded from the others. the only sounds you can hear are of footsteps and bickering from the trio sitting right across from you. one of the boys, the one with pink hair and a red hood over his head, is in what looks to be the deadliest game of rock-paper-scissors you’ve ever seen with a girl that has short brown hair.

your eyes flicker towards the last of the bunch– a boy who looks like he’s around your age with an unruly mess of hair on top of his head. he’s calm, minding his own business with a book in his lap, and legs crossed elegantly. the sweater he wears is black, oversized, and the fabric looks to be so soft.

you’re not a believer in airport crushes. you think the theory that people look better when you’re bound to never see them again is delusional.

you might just eat your own words because he’s actually cute.

you don’t know how many times your eyes have gravitated towards him in the past hour, but you know it’s probably enough to tip his friends off. from the corner of your eye, you see the girl nudge him repeatedly before very obviously pointing your way.

at first, he ignores her– goes back to reading his book like she’s a fly buzzing around his head. he’s probably used to it, you muse to yourself, chuckling in your head.

and then you feel it. the pinpricks of his stare. so pointed and sharp now that it’s directed at you.

the notes app is your only friend as you type against the screen of your phone. you feel stupid– like a schoolgirl who’s just been noticed by her crush, trying to seem busy as if you haven’t been staring at him for god knows how long.

when he looks away from your general direction, you lift your head– trying to get a glimpse of his side profile for, what you promise yourself to be, the last time.

only to meet his gaze straight on.

you hear his friends snicker, nudge their elbows against him as you look to the side, too embarrassed to even think of looking in his direction again. you hear his voice, low and smooth as he snaps, trying to make them stop. they only tease him more.

you hear the name megumi, picture the shy smile that spread on his lips before stiffening, quickly getting up from your seat when the intercom calls your flight number.

the staff are quick to usher the crowds of people into a neat line, herding passengers to their respective gates. your feet move on autopilot, making your way towards the double doors that lead to your plane.

you only stop when someone calls your name, waving frantically as they push through the people to get to you.

megumi stands in front of you, hair even more tousled than before. there’s a bead of sweat on his forehead that slides down the side of his neck and into his sweater. his eyes are green, reminding you of the forest, a piece of jade, and the color of your passport holder in his hand.

“you forgot this.” he holds the official document against his chest before handing it over to you. his fingers brush against yours, delicate and neatly trimmed, before they clench into a fist by his side. “you left it on your seat.”

“right,” you mumble, the sound wispy as if your own breath had been sucked out from your lungs. you bow your head in gratitude while simultaneously trying to shake away the daze clouding your thoughts. “thank you. i owe you one.”

the silence that stretches after is nothing if not awkward. you’re looking anywhere but him, and he’s doing the same. the staff guarding the gate watch– clearly gossiping about your little interaction with the male in front of you.

after a while, megumi nods once before turning back towards his seat, a muffled safe flight leaving his lips.

that's it?

you watch as he strides away, some parts confused and disappointed. his friends wear the same expression as you do, the girl practically screeching into his ear while the boy tries to push him back towards your direction.

megumi doesn’t budge, stone faced as he sits in between them. returning to his book as if nothing significant has happened.

maybe some things just aren’t meant to be.

you send the duo a wave, smiling when they do the same, before showing the staff your ticket and passport, heading straight down the gate, and boarding the plane.

you won't see him again anyway.

it’s only when you’re seated on a train, a thousand miles away from where you were, gazing out of the window as it speeds across Tokyo that you finally see a note slipped into your passport, one containing his full name and number.

i think you’re pretty. my friends think you’re cool. would you like to get dinner some time? – megumi fushiguro.

your pointer finger traces his handwriting, neat and cursive, and you let out a giggle because for whatever reason, it feels exactly like him.

to: cute sea urchin

[13:57] hey. it's the girl from the airport. [13:58] is sushi okay? it's my treat! i owe you one after all.

from: cute sea urchin

[14:23] yeah, anything's fine with me. see you.

to: cute sea urchin

[14:37] cool! can't wait to see you again, gumi!

[sleepingdayaway]

Player has the Fierce Deity Mask

So uh this is an old writing I found in my docs and I decided to post it since I probably won't continue this. I did this for fun and for a discord server I'm in, but if you decide to read this then thanks!

Characters: Fierce Deity

Short Summary: What if player interacted with the Fierce Deity Mask first and refuses to give it back.

Waking up in the middle of the woods with a weird ass mask in their hands was definitely not on [Name]'s list of being woken up to, especially since there was a bunch of screeching noises around them.

When finally coming to the realization that they are in fact not home they quickly sat up and backed away from these weird pig monsters, although they look oddly familiar. That's when they noticed a mask that fell onto their lap, and lifted it up to see it properly. It's a perfect replica of the Fierce Deity mask from Majora's Mask, a game they used to play a lot, when they had the time.

Their eyes widened before looking back at the monsters and at which they realized that they are in fact, bokoblins from the Breath of the Wild game version, but the strangest thing is that they refused to get any closer to them. The bokoblins were screaming and clawing at them as if trying to reach them, but they couldn't, one even went as far as to throw a rock at them. It was able to hit them in the arm.

"Well? Are you not going to deal with them?" Spoke a voice from nearby, it sounded gruff as if it hadn't spoken in a while.

"What in the fuck? God???" 

They replied as they looked up in the sky with confusion on their face; the mask still in their hands. A chuckle was heard before the voice spoke again, "My my, tell me little one, are you able to hear me?"

[Name] looked down at the Fierce Deity mask and held it close to their face examining it, "Wait a damn minute, are you talking? Or am I hearing voices again."

A laugh was heard which caused them to turn red from embarrassment, "You are quite amusing, little one."

A breathy laugh came from [Name], "I will take that as a compliment, but uh I don't actually have anything to get rid of those nasty ass pigs since I deadass just woke up here with just you." It seems that the bokoblins could understand them since two more rocks were thrown at them, as they let out a scream before dodging them.

It was silent for a moment before the mask spoke again, "I will make a deal with you, I will lend you my power to deal with those pests as I said before."

[Name] held the mask closer to them staring for a moment before responding, "I swear, if I die because of a mask I'm going to cry."

They got up from the ground before looking back down at the mask. They aren't sure if they took any strong drugs before going to bed, or if this was one hella vivid dream they're having. Reluctantly they placed it onto their face, and they stood there for a moment before their vision turned white, but they could've sworn just before they blacked out they heard it speak again.

"Yes, I truly do hope you'll live after this, little one."

[Name] woke up again abruptly, they were breathing heavily as if they've been running for a while, before looking around at their surroundings; in the place where the bokoblins once were, there are now piles of random items those monsters dropped and disappearing purple smoke. In their [dominant hand] holds the Fierce Deity mask in all its glory as they use their other hand to drag it across their face while exhaling deeply to calm their breathing. "Holy shit, I don't remember what the fuck happened once I put it one, but damn am I tired."

"It appears that you survived, congratulations, dear, " the mask spoke and it sounded like it was in fact happy and surprised that they lived.

[Name] stared at it with a smile on their face, "Keep complimenting me and I just might get attached to you, but uh after that don't you think it's fair that we introduce each other?"

"Hmmm… yes, I do believe so. I am the Fierce Deity, I come from the land of Termina, and, currently, I take the form of the mask you hold in your hand."

That earned a huge grin from them, "Nice to meet you, Fierce Deity, I'm [Name] and I am not from here, actually…how did I get here?" They tried to remember the events that happened before being in the forest.

 The images of a dark shadow lingering in the corner of their room, and red eyes appearing from it before lunging at them. A weird colored thing also showed up and then them and the weird red eyed shadow falling into it.

Fierce Deity spoke up, "I see, so it was that damn shadow creature who brought you here. I believe it is beneficial if I stay with you, so you will not perish. I also may be able to lead you to a group of adventurers; who are also in the same difficult situation as you." He said soothingly since he knew that you probably won't enjoy being with a person who would antagonize you in a world you are not familiar with.

 "Yeah? I appreciate that very much, Fierce Deity. Well I agree to those terms, I'll gladly have you with me as we find those guys you-" they were cut off by the sounds of multiple footsteps being rushed towards them. A chuckle could be heard from him, "It appears we haven't even needed to search for them at all. They have found you."

It seems that he was right as a tall man rushed forward, and stared them down with one eye, a couple of other guys also behind him staring at them as they caught their breaths.

The oldest and tallest one of the group stepped closer towards you with one of his hands reaching out, "I am sorry for asking this suddenly, but may I please have that mask back?"

[Name] stared at the group in shock as they took a step back and held the Fierce Deity closer to them, "Fuck no, he's mine-"

[ilguna]

From expired medicine number 66 with sejanus pls 😌

☼ forget-me-nots (Sejanus Plinth) ☼

warnings; swearing, bombs, blood, ehh gore, death, death mention, starvation mention.

wc; 11.1k

prompt; 66. amnesia au

notes; slow burn, all they get to do is hold hands. also coryo slander.

--

“What’s the matter, pretty boy? You in the wrong cage?” One of the other tributes asks, eyes on a blonde Capitol boy dressed in bright red. He’s standing at the back of the truck, hand reached up to hold onto a bar to keep from falling over.

You let out a breath through your nose, giving a look to Marcus, who seems just as unimpressed as you are. Leave it to someone from the Capitol to think it’s a good idea to jump in the back of a truck with a bunch of teenagers that hate his guts. He might be untouchable anywhere else, but here it’s fair game.

“No, this is exactly the cage I was waiting for.” The blonde boy tells him.

The tribute jumps to his feet, hands encircling the Capitol’s boys throat, proving your point. He slams the boy back, forearms pinning him against the bars. The Capitol boy is quick though, bringing his knee up to the tribute boy’s crotch. You watch as he doubles over, releasing him.

“He might kill you now.” The girl from the same district coughed, wafting straight into the Capitol boy’s face. “He killed a Peacekeeper back in Eleven. They never found out who did it.”

“Shut it, Dill.” The boy from Eleven growls.

“Who cares now?” Dill asks.

“Let’s all kill him.” A tiny boy grins. “Can’t do nothing worse to us.”

A few of the other tributes murmur in agreement, taking a step forward to close in on the Capitol boy. The truck hits a bump, the heels of your feet rise, and then fall flat when it comes down harshly. You sway into Marcus, and he uses his free hand to steady you.

“Not to us, maybe. You got family back home? Someone they could punish there?” A girl from the corner asks. She’s wearing a colorful dress, which has since been turned dirty from the cattle car they kept you in on the way here. She crosses the small space, wiggling herself between the tributes and the Capitol boy. “Besides, he’s my mentor. Supposed to help me. I might need him.”

“How come you get a mender?” Dill asks.

“Mentor. You each get one.” The Capitol boy says.

“Where are they, then?” Dill challenges. “Why didn’t they come?”

“Just not inspired, I guess.” The colorful girl says, turning her back to the rest of you.

The truck turns into a narrow street, where the cement must not be completely flat, because it hits a bump every second. It makes a wide turn, before you’re jostled back, as the car begins to move backward into a dimly lit building.

Your face twists, as a new smell invades your nose: a mix of rotten fish and old hay. Your hand tightens on the bars, unable to see through the darkness. The sound of two metal doors opening fills the air. You think you can see a Peacekeeper opening the back door of the truck, and then the ground beneath you turns into a slope.

You’re able to hang on for the first couple of seconds, watching as the tributes in front of you tumble out. Your fingers slip when you try to adjust to hold on better, afraid of where they’re sending you. You hit wet cement, and continue to slide, until you hit a drop.

A scream rises up your chest, clogging in your throat as you hold your breath. You fall for what feels like forever, and land hard at the bottom. The heap breaks your landing, but a shooting pain flies up your back. You hiss, face twisted as you reach back to grab your lower back.

A pair of hands grabs you beneath your arms, pulling you out of the way of another tribute coming down. Marcus places you on your feet, where you hunch while the pain subsides. When you can’t feel it anymore, you stand up fully, looking around to see where they’ve dumped you.

It’s another cage, only bigger. There’s a stretch of sand, with rock formations in the middle that twist high in the air. A shallow, dry moat separates the island and the row of metal bars on the far side. And beyond them are the faces of small Capitol children, their eyes wide at the sight of the group of you.

You begin to wander away from the pile of teenagers and hay, as they pull themselves out to be on their feet. Marcus moves with you, letting you decide how far you want to go. The faces on the other side of the bars begin to multiply quickly, filling with adults, too.

They begin to shout, pointing at the Capitol boy, attention shifting from the rest of you, to him. You glance over, finding that he’s standing taller now, expressionless as he stares where he should be. In no time, the audience begins to call out to him, asking him why he’s in here with you. One of them must recognize him, because the crowd grows thicker.

“It’s the Snow boy!’

“Who’s that again?”

“You know, the ones with roses on their roof!”

A smirk creeps to the corner of your lip, a laugh making its way out of you. You begin to walk again, around the Capitol boy, like a wild animal pacing their lunch. “Snow, huh?”

His eyes snap to you, slightly wide. 

“Do you like to play games, Snow?” Your words have an edge as they leave your mouth. You stop when your back is partly turned to the Capitol people. “Because it looks like you do.”

The other tributes have caught on, beginning to surround him. The two tributes from Eleven, the boy that suggested you should kill him, and a few more, coming to build a circle around him. He notices this almost immediately, eyes darting between each of you, like he can’t decide which one of you is more dangerous.��

His breathing is picking up, chest growing and shrinking. He really didn’t think this through, did he? He thought he’d be able to come in here and do whatever he wanted. A dribble of sweat begins to run down the side of his face, heading for his jaw. He’ll be so fun to tear apart.

“Own it.” A soft voice says.

It’s his girl tribute, sitting on a rock. Snow takes in a deep breath and turns to see her, where she’s fixing a white rose behind her ear. The same one that he’d brought to the train station for her. 

He holds his hand out for her, she smiles slightly, taking his hand. You watch as he bows, and she gets up like a lady. When he raises his head, he asks, “Would you care to meet a few of my neighbors?”

“I would be delighted.” She says, as they begin to walk off together.

He leads her up to the bars, where the people are gawking. You roll your eyes, taking several steps back as you pivot to take a look around the area. There’s not many places to hide if you wanted to. Which means that the cameras will reach you at almost any point in here. 

Snow and his girl tribute—Lucy Gray—introduce themselves, going around the crowd, talking to the children. You manage to find a nice spot behind a rock that’ll block their view, which Marcus joins you behind.

“What’s the plan here?” You murmur, eyeing the other tributes, who are scoping out the land, themselves.

“Survive.” Marcus has his arms crossed, leaning on the wall across from you. “Wait it out.”

“For how long?” You ask, you wrap a hand around your stomach when it rumbles. “I’m starving here, Marcus.”

He tilts his head, “What do you want to do? Eat one of the other tributes?”

“That’s not funny.” You tell him.

“They won’t give us food, (Y/n), I told you this.”

“I didn’t think that they’d keep it from us completely.” You hiss. 

You take in a deep breath, closing your eyes and tilting your head back. It’s been three days since the last time you’ve eaten. A small portion of bread and oatmeal, which was on the morning of Reaping Day. If you’d known that your name was going to be pulled, you would’ve eaten more.

You sigh, “I’m sorry, I know it’s not your fault.” You push your hair back. “And you’re hungry, too.”

You peek out from behind the rock to see that the pair have moved over to the cameras, having an exchange with the reporter, you presume. You watch them through squinted eyes.

“So, do you know my mentor? Says his name is Coriolanus Snow. He’s a Capitol boy and clearly I got the cake with the cream, ‘cause nobody else’s mentor even bothered to show up to welcome them.”

“Well, he gave us all a surprise. Did your teachers tell you to be here, Coriolanus?”

Snow steps forward. “They didn’t tell me not to.” The crowd laughs. “But I do remember them saying that I was to introduce Lucy Gray to the Capitol, and I take that job seriously.”

“So you didn’t have a second thought about diving into a cage of tributes?” The reporter asks.

“A second, a third, and I imagine the fourth and fifth will be hitting me sometime soon.” Snow says. “But if she’s brave enough to be here, shouldn’t I be?”

You scoff, Snow turns his head slightly to find where the noise came from. Brave, as if you all didn’t end up here by chance. By their hands. 

“Oh, for the record, I didn’t have a choice.” Lucy Gray says.

“For the record, neither did I.” Snow says. “After I heard you sing, I couldn’t keep away. I confess, I’m a fan.”

Lucy Gray moves her skirt to show off the color, as the audience erupts into applause.

“Well, I hope for your sake the Academy agrees with you, Coriolanus.” The reporter says. “I think you’re about to find out.”

As if on cue, the metal doors nearby squeal against the concrete, as if there’s not enough space to allow them to move. A group of four Peacekeepers march out, heading straight for the Capitol boy.

Snow turns back to the camera. “Thank you for joining us. Remember, it’s Lucy Gray Baird, representing District Twelve. Drop by the zoo if you have a minute and say hello. I promise she’s well worth the effort.”

Lucy Gray holds out the back of her hand to him, which he takes and presses a kiss to. After that, he waves to the audience once, before joining the Peacekeepers and leaving the exhibit. The doors shut tightly behind them.

They dumped you in a fucking zoo.

Lucy Gray mingles around the bars for a few more minutes, before she comes down the moat to join her tribute partner. The crowd thins out considerably, now that they don’t have a source of entertainment. You disappear behind the rock, lowering yourself to the ground. Marcus doesn’t move from where he stands, looking down at you.

You pull your knees up. “Do you think our mentors will show up?”

“It won’t matter.” Marcus says. “They can’t do anything for us. All they’ll do is bring more people to stare.”

You rest your head back. “Right.” For the first time in days, you feel at peace enough to relax, the drowsiness coming in waves. You sigh, letting your legs down. “Will you wake me if something happens?”

“I will.” Marcus nods.

His confirmation is good enough for you. You settle on the cement, shoulders square with the rock. It’s uncomfortable, but your body doesn’t seem to care, focused on the idea of being able to sleep. The moment you shut your eyes, you’re practically done for, as the chatter of the Capitol people acts as perfect background noise for you to doze off to.

When you wake, it’s on your own accord. There’s a pain in the side of your neck, due to sleeping with your head at an angle. You squeeze your eyes, face twisting as you reach up to massage the area. When you look around, you find Marcus standing nearby, face hard.

You stretch, letting out a groan. It must be getting dark out because the artificial lights on the other side of the rock have been turned on. There’s no telling how late it is. You wonder if they’ll even bother to turn them off when the zoo does close.

You push to get to your feet, swallowing the nausea that rises with the movement. It’s due to hunger, but it’ll pass soon if you take it easy. Marcus looks over when he sees that you’re on your feet, his face smoothing out briefly.

“Anything big happen?” You ask, arms above your head. You can hear your upper back pop, relieving the pressure.

“No, but we have a familiar face in the crowd.” Marcus says.

“Like who? Snow?” You sneer, coming out from behind the rock. 

You squint through the white light, holding a hand up to shield your eyes. The tributes that you’re in here with have spread out to keep from getting in each other’s space. You look up to the bars to see that the crowd has grown again, peering down at the group of you. 

To humor Marcus, you search for the blonde boy that belongs to Lucy Gray, yet you come up blank. A joke begins to form on your tongue, as you turn your head to tell it, you hear your name being shouted from the other side of the bars. You glance back at the crowd, eyebrows together, wandering away from your partner to find who it is that knows your name.

You make it all the way to the moat before you see who it is. He’s crouched, hands wrapped around the bars, forehead pressed to them. His brown hair and brown eyes are unmistakable. You used to stare into them everyday when you were friends, before he moved away to live in the Capitol.

Sejanus Plinth is dressed in the same bright red uniform that Snow was wearing when he came into the truck. He looks just like he did when you went to school together, only older now because it’s been ten years. He still wears that innocent look on his face, which is unsurprising. His heart is big enough to house dozens of people.

“(Y/n).” Sejanus shifts on his feet, leaning away from the bars as he turns to a black backpack at his side. He opens it up, reaches inside, and pulls out something that’s wrapped. It’s reflecting the light. “Please, take it. Marcus won’t.”

“Sejanus.” His name is foreign on your tongue. “I don’t even know what it is.”

“It’s a meatloaf sandwich.” He says, holding it out between the bars. “Please, I know you’re hungry.”

He’s right, your stomach begins to hurt at the thought of the sandwich, but you don’t move from where your feet are planted. You glance behind you, to Marcus, who’s still standing against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He’s determined to stay there.

He was Marcus’s friend, too. The three of you were very close during grade school. If there was one of you, the other two would be following close by. That is, until the Plinths upgraded from District Two to the Capitol, due to their loyalty during the Dark Days. In many people’s eyes, the Plinths are a bunch of traitors. 

Including Marcus’s.

You would think the same, if he weren’t a child at the time. And especially not now, with you being stuck in this situation. With Sejanus being on the other side of the bars, maybe he can help, beyond just giving you sandwiches. If all the tribute mentors are wearing these red uniforms, that means he might be one, himself.

So, you move forward, crossing the moat and climbing the hill that’ll lead you to the bars. You don’t lower yourself to his height right away, looking between the faces behind him. With your presence, they all seem to shuffle a step back, unsure if you’re one of the hostile tributes or not.

You breathe through your nose, amused. You grab onto the bar with one hand, using it as support as you get down. Sejanus is still holding out the sandwich for you to take, which you do so carefully, setting it on your knee. 

Sejanus nods, happy that you’re trusting him. “I tried to get any of the other tributes to come over but they won’t.”

“Can’t blame them.” You say, not being able to focus on his face when the people behind him peer over his shoulder. “I wasn’t going to, either.”

You jerk forward, a threat to the Capitol people. A few of them let out gasps as they return to where they’d been standing, hiding behind Sejanus. When your eyes make their way back to his face, you find his face screwed.

“Marcus doesn’t want to see me, does he?”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“But he knows that I’m sorry? You know I’m sorry, right?”

You shrug. “Doesn’t change the fact that he’s angry. Or that we’re both here in a zoo cage.”

Sejanus swallows.

You’re tired of this conversation already. “I hear that we get mentors. Where’s mine?”

“I am.” He says. “I’m your mentor, and Marcus has Florus.”

“Oh, how fortunate.” You shake your head. “Did you ask for me?”

“No, I was assigned.” Sejanus says, glancing behind him. His face lights up as he raises a hand to wave someone over. Your eyes shift in that direction, finding the Snow boy coming your way. He weaves through the crowd, and stops two feet away from the bars. 

“Trouble?” He asks, paying no attention to you.

You scoff, “Great, you’re friends with Snow.” You grab the sandwich with one hand, pulling yourself to your feet with the other. By then, the blonde boy has his eyes on you. 

Sejanus looks between you two. “Do you know each other?”

“Of course not.” Snow says first, face twisting, seemingly disgusted by the idea.

You laugh, it’s venomous, “You know, I think I do pride myself in not hanging around Capitol scum.” You spit, holding out your hand that has the sandwich. “Give me another, Sejanus. I’ll see that Marcus gets it.”

Sejanus doesn’t need you to tell him twice, grabbing another. You don’t break the eye contact you have with Snow, which is growing tense by the second. 

“Capitol scum?” He repeats, smiling. “That’s funny.”

“Is it now?” You steal the second sandwich from Sejanus’s hand before it’s fully through the bars. You look over Snow, taking in how big he is. “For a Capitol boy, you look pretty starved. You belong more in here than you do out there.” You take a couple steps over so that you’re directly in front of him. “Except, you wouldn’t last ten seconds before getting ripped apart.”

You look at Sejanus to find that he’s holding out two plums. You pluck them from his hands, giving a nasty look to Snow before you go back down the hill with your winnings. There are several pairs of eyes that watch you return to the rock that you and Marcus have claimed. You return their stares with pressed lips. 

You step behind the stone, Marcus following you. When you hold out the two sandwiches and plums, he shakes his head. “I don’t want that.”

“If we want to win, we need to be strong.” You tell him. “Take one.”

He sighs, irritated, but grabs one of each. You sink back to the ground, unwrapping your sandwich, resting the plum in your lap. The moment that you sink your teeth into the soft bread, every ounce of self control leaves your body. It’s perfect, delicious, and gone within a minute. The plum, too.

Once Marcus has finished his sandwich, he wipes his mouth, sucking the ketchup off of his finger. “Who’s your mentor?”

“Sejanus.” You tell him, “You have someone named Florus.”

“As long as I don’t have him—I don’t care who I have. They won’t make a difference.”

“That’s what you think.” 

—

“Get up!” A voice shouts.

Your eyes pop open as you fly into an upward position, looking around to see where the danger is. Your eyes land on Peacekeepers, dressed in grey uniforms, standing next to the steel doors that are swung wide open.

The other tributes are shuffling toward the Peacekeepers, hardly awake. You rustle in the hay to look at Marcus, who’s already getting to his feet. A yawn escapes you, holding out your hand. Marcus takes it to pull you to your feet, steadying you when you stumble a step.

“What’s happening?” You murmur, rubbing your eyes.

“No idea.” Marcus says, walking away. You follow him, briefly looking at the bars to see if there’s an audience, finding it empty. The zoo must not be open yet.

On the other side of the building is a truck, similar to the one you rode here on. Marcus steps inside first, and then turns to give you a hand, pulling you inside. The two of you choose a spot in the middle, where you grab a rod and try not to touch anyone if you can help it.

Once you’re packed inside, they slam the doors shut. The car jolts forward a moment later, and then they begin to take you through the streets. You sigh, watching the blur of buildings and people on the sidewalk. Occasionally, you glance at the people around you, taking in details in increments to avoid setting them off. The last thing you’d want is to cause a fight in here.

Your eyes linger on the boy from Eleven and the way he hovers over Dill, feeling a need to protect her. It’s the same for Lucy Gray and her tribute partner, who she seems to be close with. Last night, you weren’t the only one to take a sandwich, soon after, Lucy Gray went to have one too. When she decided that it was good, she told her friend… Jessup, that’s his name. She told Jessup to grab one too, which then prompted the rest of the tributes to follow.

For now, you can’t find anyone else that sticks out in your mind. You’re sure that they’ll reveal themselves as time goes on, all you have to do is wait until then. You know that you should keep a distance from Four and Eight, at the very least. They have previous experience with weapons, much like you.

The truck comes to a hard stop. A Peacekeeper comes out to stand on your side of the truck. You look down at him, finding a pair of handcuffs that he has gripped in his gloves. 

“We will take one district at a time. When you step out of the truck, hold your hands out in front of you, palms up.” He instructs. “District One.”

The boy and girl get up from where they’re sitting. The doors open, allowing them to step out. They don’t bother shutting the doors again, letting you take in the amount of Peacekeepers they have on standby in case something goes wrong. The tributes get handcuffed, and then led inside of the building by four Peacekeepers that have a tight hand on them.

“District Two.”

Marcus moves first, stepping out of the truck. He turns to help you, which you accept when you jump off the ledge. On the ground, the two of you turn to the Peacekeeper, holding out your hands as you were told to. The steel is cold against your wrists, he squeezes the cuff, tightening it as much as he can. He repeats the process for Marcus.

With that, he instructs you to move forward, heading inside of the building. The floors are polished, reflecting the dull sunlight, and with how big and empty the hall is, the sounds of your shoes echo. You move down several hallways, until you spot the open wooden doors with a Peacekeeper standing post outside of the room.

When you step inside, you can see that the boy and girl from One have each been sat at their own table. There’s a cement slab on top of it with a metal loop, where the handcuffs are fed through to keep them in place. You grind your teeth, looking at Marcus to see that his face has hardened.

“Girl, sit down.” The Peacekeeper tells you. 

Biting your tongue, you decide not to tell him your name, just listen to the directions. You sit in the folding chair, scooting it up slightly to close the gap between you and the table. You hold up your wrists, he unlocks the one side of the cuffs, guides the open side through the loop, and then closes the cuff on your wrist again.

He crouches down, reaching for your feet. Your face twists, feeling him pull up the bottom of your skirt just high enough, before the coldness encases your right ankle. When you give it a pull, you can hear the rattling of chains on the cement. You look over at Marcus, raising your eyebrows. The Peacekeeper secures your left ankle before getting to his feet.

If anyone had any plans of escaping this afternoon, they’re going to have to rethink it.

Marcus sits at his table unprompted. Right as his shackles are being double-checked, the pair of tributes from Three come through the door. It goes on like this, all the way around the circle, up to Lucy Gray and her tribute friend.

While this is happening, you take the time to look around the room you’re in. It’s classically wealthy, with the columns, the arched windows and the tall ceilings. The best you can compare this building to is the Justice Building at home in Two, but even that’s lacking in several departments.

Halfway up the wall, you find a balcony. You sit back in your chair, forearms resting on the edge of the table. There are faces up there, staring down at you. From what you can see, they’re all wearing the red uniform that Snow and Sejanus were wearing yesterday.

“Eyes up.” You murmur to Marcus.

Out of your peripheral, you’re able to watch him tilt his head back to see what you mean. He straightens up in his seat, hands curling in to form fists.

A door slams, the people on the balcony jump and turn to see where the noise is coming from. “Stop eyeballing your tributes and get down there.” A feminine voice orders. “You only have fifteen minutes, so use them wisely. And remember, complete the paperwork for our records as best you can.”

The first person to come down the spiral staircase is none other than Snow, heading straight for Lucy Gray. When he passes in front of you, a laugh leaves you at the sight of his determined face. He’s quickly forgotten when you see Sejanus bouncing your way, a smile spread across his lips.

“Hey, Marcus.” He says, but he doesn’t get a response. Sejanu takes a seat in the chair across from you. “(Y/n), they’re just having us do interviews today.”

“I’m sure that’ll be easy.” You say. “Considering you know everything about me already.”

He swings his bag into his lap. “I still have to go down the list.” He pulls out a piece of paper and a pen, setting it on the table. His hand dips inside again, and when it surfaces, he has a pair of sandwiches. “I hope you’re hungry.”

I am, you think. All you do is give him a smile. “Thank you, Sejanus.”

“One more thing.” He says, bringing out a clear container. He opens the lid, revealing a slice of brown cake with a fork inside. “Ma made it. Help yourself.”

You nod, “What’s on the paper?”

“Just the basics so the Capitol can get to know you better.” He says, reaching for the pencil. 

You manage to grab one of the sandwiches, unwrapping the paper. With the limited mobility your hands have, you have to lean forward to take a bite. The bread crunches under your teeth, meaning it must’ve been toasted. The roast beef inside is cold, and it must be freshly bought. You hum, closing your eyes.

“I can fill it out, just correct me if I come across something wrong.” Sejanus says. 

You listen as he reads out the list and his answer to them. Your name, district address, your date of birth, hair and eye color, height and weight, and any disabilities you may have. You give him the answers when he pauses to look up at you, for the most part, he nails them.

“Family makeup. If I remember right, you’ve got your mom and dad and two sisters, right?” He asks.

“Mom’s dead.” You tell him, balling up the paper when you finish your sandwich. “One of my sisters is sick, she probably won’t last much longer.”

Sejanus’s hand stops, face twisting as he looks up at you. “(Y/n), I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” You tell him, pressing your lips together. “Do you need their names or is that it?”

“That’s it.” He says, voice quieter. “You’re not married, are you?”

“Nope.” 

“Do you have a job?”

“Not legally.” You sit back in the chair. “I help out in the warehouse and earn money for it, but I’m not supposed to be in there.”

He nods. “I’ll put you down as no.”

“Thanks.” You murmur, looking at the paper. “That’s the last question?”

“It is.” He says.

“Five minutes.” A woman announces, she’s wandering around the room.

“You should give the other sandwich to Marcus.” You tell him. 

“He won’t take it from me, only you.” Sejanus shakes his head.

“I don’t have pockets, so I can’t give it to him later.” Your eyes wander away, finding his mentor, Florus. “Why don’t you hand it to Florus?”

“He’s not having very good luck with Marcus, either.”

You sigh, “All I’m hearing are excuses.” You roll your eyes, looking over. “Marcus, there’s an extra sandwich. You should take it.”

“Excuse me.” Florus says, eyebrows drawing in. “I’m trying to interview him.”

“Looks like you’re havin’ a lot of luck.” You smile at his blank paper. “I can’t smuggle it out of here, and you’re the only one that has pockets between us.”

Marcus looks at you, but nods. Sejanus seems pleased with this, handing the sandwich over to Florus, who begrudgingly stuffs it into one of Marcus’s pockets. You turn to the cake, digging out the fork.

“It’s carrot cake.” Sejanus says.

“I’m sure it’s good either way.” You stick the fork into the icing. “Your mom always made the best sweets.”

“She’s gotten better.” He says. “I’ll tell her about your ma, I’m sure she’ll be apologetic.”

“Don’t make her feel too bad.” You place the bite into your mouth. The sweetness explodes across your tongue. You can’t remember the last time you were treated to something so good. All your money goes to your sister’s medicine, you can’t get sweets like this anymore. “It’s not her fault.”

“I wish we hadn’t moved away.” Sejanus swipes some of the icing off the corner of the container. “It’s harder to make friends here than it is there, but I have Coriolanus.”

“Snow?” You ask, looking to your right. He’s three tables over with Lucy Gray, leaned forward to talk. “He doesn’t look like much company.”

“He is.” Sejanus sighs. “How is it in Two?”

“Worse.” You shrug. “Or the same, depending how you look at it.”

“You said you work in the warehouse, at least you have the job lined up.”

“It’s district work, it’s always going to be available. It’d be a different story if I was a blacksmith but they won’t take me until I’m eighteen.” You say. “Or rather, they wouldn’t.”

He frowns, “I’m really sorry you’re here, (Y/n).”

“I know.” You murmur. “Nothing that we can do about it now.”

A whistle suddenly blows, making you turn your head to the woman by the door. She drops it, allowing it to hang over her chest. “Time.”

You look back at Sejanus. “When’s the next time I see you?”

“I can visit tonight.” He says.

“That would be great.” You drop the fork into the container. “Thank you, Sejanus.”

—

The Capitol people standing on the other side of the bars is an irritating sight, especially since they’re holding food with seemingly no intention to give it to any of you. It’s gotten to the point where the tributes around you don’t bother to go up anymore, knowing that they’re all going to take a collective step back.

They don’t really matter to you, anyway. You have Sejanus, and as long as he’s feeding you and trying to keep you company, you don’t need them. You’ll suffice just fine with one of your old friends. As for Marcus, he wants to be left alone, but you won’t let that happen.

He’s currently laying on his bed of hay. Last night, the Capitol had released a couple of bales into the enclosure. While the tributes fought over them, you and Marcus sat back and watched, slightly amused. When he decided that he had enough, he went and grabbed the last bale from two tributes, throwing them away.

He split the hay with you, but you wanted enough to act as a pillow to rest your head on. You’re fine with sleeping on the cement, because it feels like your bed back home. Except, that one is a little more broken in, and you don’t wake up several times throughout the night. 

Marcus ate the roast beef sandwich from Sejanus, and even admitted that he was glad you had Florus give it to him. He doesn’t want to forgive Sejanus for what he’s done, even though you’ve tried to explain the fact that it’s not necessarily his fault. He was only a child at the time they moved, and he has no choice but to mentor tributes now. It’s just bad luck that it’s the two of you and not anyone else.

You push to get to your feet, kicking the hay into a pile once you’re upright. You wander out from behind the rock, curious to see where the tributes have moved and what the bars look like. The crowd has surely tripled in size since the last time you looked. They’re still up there, holding food.

There was a pair of twins in the corner earlier, a boy and a girl. They’d brought lunch for their tributes, but they’re gone now; replaced by Snow and Lucy Gray. You wander, arms crossed over your chest, looking for Sejanus. He must be coming through the crowd now, because you find his dark hair a second later, when you’re doing another sweep.

You immediately start for him, crossing the moat and climbing up the hill. Your arms fall, as you crouch to join. “Hello.”

“Hey.” He murmurs. “Did Marcus eat?”

“Yes he did. He says that the sandwich was good.”

“Ma sends her regards. She’s been upset since I told her.” Sejanus pulls out two eggs and a couple wedges of bread. “For an egg sandwich.”

“I told you not to make her feel guilty.” You tell him, holding out your hand. He places them inside. “Are the eggs raw?”

“No, hard boiled. I just didn’t peel them.” He says. “And I couldn’t help it. I told her what happened to your ma and she asked about the rest of your family.”

You nod. “I see.”

“(Y/n), they might be implementing new rules.” He laces his fingers. “They’re thinking about letting the Capitol citizens sponsor tributes. Which means that you’ll need to gain their favor somehow.”

“I’m not a circus animal.” You tell him. “Unlike Lucy Gray, over there.”

“I know, but if you could come up with something with Marcus, then Florus and I might be able to pool together. We could feed you and give you water, at least.” Sejanus says.

You shake your head. “These Games never go on longer than a few days.”

“That’s because they didn’t have food to eat in the past.” He reasons. “Now we’re able to feed you and they’re taking suggestions for different ideas.”

You sigh, looking at the sandwich components in your hands. “I’ll try to brainstorm with Marcus, but he’s pretty set on not participating. It’s a fight just to get him to eat food, Sejanus.”

He reaches through the bars, placing one of his hands over yours. You look down at it, and then up at him. With his other hand, he grabs onto the bars, leaning forward. “I want you to live, (Y/n).”

“I do too, Sejanus. It’s just not that easy.” You tell him.

“Well, they’re going to have you do an interview on television. That’ll be your chance.”

Laughter erupts around you, making you break eye contact. You follow the gaze of the crowd, and find a mentor a few feet away. She’s sitting on a towel or blanket, a picnic displayed in front of her. On the other side is a tribute, you think the girl from Ten. The mentor holds out the sandwich, the tribute reaches for it, and the mentor pulls away.

She turns to give the crowd a smile before taking a bite out of the sandwich. You roll your eyes, sighing. The tribute’s face drops, no longer hopeful, as her hand slips between the bars. You watch as she grabs the knife on the blanket, leaning forward to grab the front of the mentor’s shirt, and then slitting her throat.

The crowd screams in shock, the sandwich is dropped from the mentor’s hand as she reaches up to her throat, pawing at her neck. The tribute lets go of her, giving her a shove for good measure.

You get to your feet this instant, Sejanus’s hand falling from yours. You clutch the food to your chest as you turn to the hill, wanting to put distance between you and the scene. Sejanus grabs you, pulling you back down to the ground.

“Help her!” A voice shouts. “Medic!”

“Sejanus—”

“Put your head down.” He tells you, you lower to your knees.

“Is there a doctor? Please, someone help!” The voice belongs to Snow, who’s holding the girl mentor in his lap. She reaches up to grab his shirt, choking on the blood. Snow turns to the crowd. “Come on!”

The Ten tribute leans through the bars, snatching the cheese sandwich into her hands, raising it to her mouth. The sound of metal slamming into concrete fills the air, as the Peacekeepers burst through the far side of the enclosure, raising their runs, presumably aiming for the district girl.

She manages to take a bite of the sandwich, before the bullets are fired, piercing her body. You duck your head, squeezing your eyes shut, as Sejanus presses down on your back to keep you down. Another round of screaming, no more shots fired.

You sit up, Sejanus’s hand retreating. He opens up his bag, showing you the bread and eggs that he has inside, all meant for the tributes you’re trapped with. You know what he’s asking, so you lift the bottom of your skirt to create a bowl, letting him dump the food inside so it doesn’t go to waste.

The people have begun to flee the area, Sejanus rising to his feet. He leaves his backpack behind, holding a single wedge of bread. You get to your feet with shaky legs, turning to look at the Peacekeepers, where they have the others lined up against the wall, hands on their heads.

You carefully step down the hill, breathing slowly to keep from panicking. You glance over your shoulder at Sejanus, to find him sprinkling the bread over the Ten girl. His lips are moving, whispering the prayer, before a Peacekeeper grabs him by the back of his shirt, yanking him away.

You make it all the way to the wall. When they take notice of you, they grab the underside of your arm, pulling you to stand next to Marcus. They don’t tell you to put your hands on your head, letting you tremble.

They wait for the zoo to clear out, and as soon as the last person has left, they begin to search each one of you thoroughly. When it’s clear that you’re not hiding any weapons, they brandish the shackles. They go down the line, slapping the metal on your wrists, tightening the cuffs, and then moving on to the next person.

And when the last restraint is secured, they leave. The doors scraping on the cement before slamming shut. 

—

The Peacekeepers work silently as they direct the truck to back in as far as it possibly can into the alleyway without damaging the bricks. When it comes close enough to the doors, they hold up a hand, making it stop. A few of the Peacekeepers gather together briefly to speak, before turning to the line of you. 

They bring you up to the long truck bed, where they make you get down so they lock you to it. You start by crouching, but as the minutes tick on with no sign of movement, you tuck the skirt beneath you as best as possible so that you can sit. The heat from the metal burns through the fabric, and it feels like there’s nothing under you at all.

Marcus is placed a few feet away, where he shifts on his feet, opting not to sit. The two of you share a long look, where you raise your eyebrows and he shakes his head. Neither of you have a clue what’s happening. The Peacekeepers haven’t said so much as a word to any of you.

They just gathered you up, they sent someone to retrieve the body of the Ten girl, who had been slumped against the bars all night. Since the incident yesterday, no one has been allowed to visit the zoo. Except for Snow, where he briefly spoke to Lucy Gray before leaving.

There’s a large metal structure attached to the truck bed in front of you. You have to tilt your head all the way back to see what it is. It’s a crane, it seems. A metal hook hangs off a chain, swaying in the air from the small breeze. It’s so hot out that it isn’t that much of a relief. You’ve been baking in the cage all night. Forget the food that Sejanus has been giving you, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for a cup of water.

Machinery begins to whirr, the hook slowly coming down at you. You look over your shoulder, curious to see why they could possibly need the hook. You can’t find the Peacekeepers, only the faces of the tributes behind you, who are avoiding eye contact, or staring at the ground.

The chains and hook begin to curl on the ground, when suddenly it stops. A Peacekeeper grunts, there’s a hard stomp on the truck, making it vibrate. It’s quiet for a second, as the sound of something dragging across the uneven surface is all you can hear, until there’s a violent gag, followed by desperate coughing.

As you turn to see, a closed fits smacks the side of your face, causing you to jerk away. You lean as far as the shackles will allow, looking up at the Peacekeeper. You realize quickly that it wasn’t done on purpose, because he’s clutching a pair of handcuffs between his gloves. They’re attached to a pair of wrists, and furthermore, a body.

The rancid smell of a decomposing body hits your nose, making you sick. You bury your nose in the cloth on your shoulder, deeply inhaling to rid the assault. Tears pop into your eyes, which you struggle to blink away. The Peacekeeper reaches down to grab the hook, sliding it between one of the chain links. 

He lifts a hand, indicating to lift the hook. A moment later, it does. The Peacekeeper keeps a hold on the body, setting it straight, making sure that it won’t come loose. It isn’t until he twists the body to get a look, do you see that it’s the dead girl from Ten. In the open air, you’re able to see the bitemarks along her skin, a few chunks missing from the rats that were nibbling on her all night. 

A gag rises, you turn your head to the other side of the truck, teeth grit tightly together while you try to calm your stomach. It isn’t a full minute before they’ve decided that she’s up high enough in the air, which is when the Peacekeeper leaves the truck, jumping down.

They wrap up the area, closing the door to the enclosure, getting in the vehicle. They drive out of the alleyway and down the streets, where a few pedestrians stop where they stand to stare. You drop your head, lips pressed together.

The car comes to a stop a few short minutes later. When you peer around the front of the truck, you can see the grey uniform of Peacekeepers. There’s hundreds of them too, perfectly in place. Your eyebrows twitch, lips parting. This can’t possibly be for the twenty-three of you, can it?

You look back at Marcus, who’s on the inner side of the row, making it impossible for him to see. “Peacekeepers, hundreds of ‘em.”

A few heads rise, eyes landing on you. Marcus’s face contorts, “Why?”

“No idea.”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, and then the beginning notes of the Capitol anthem cuts through the silence. The Peacekeepers straighten, finding their places. 

“Gem of Panem,” A male voice starts. “Mighty city, through the ages, you shine anew.”

The next three minutes are filled with the lyrics to the anthem. They’re vaguely familiar, you haven’t heard them in a couple of months, at least. They used to have you chant it every morning at school, but it fizzled out because it took up precious learning time. Now, they play the instrumental to allow the teachers to talk over it.

The applause that follows after the final note is thunderous, coming from far down the street. You can’t see anyone, though. Only the Peacekeepers, standing still as they wait for their cue to move. A heavy feeling weighs in your stomach, as the thoughts of what may be waiting for you begin to claw.

“Two days ago, Arachne Crane’s young and precious life was ended, and so we mourn another victim of the criminal rebellion that yet besieges us.” A powerful voice says. “Her death was as valiant as any on the battlefield, her loss more profound as we claim to be at peace. But no peace will exist while this disease eats away at all that is good and noble in our country. Today we honor her sacrifice with a reminder that while evil exists, it does not prevail. And once again, we bear witness as our great Capitol brings justice to Panem.”

There’s a slow, deep drumming that starts. The Peacekeepers move forward, as if drawn to the sound. The truck doesn’t move until they’re a good fifteen feet ahead, it jolts, you catch yourself by placing your hands on the metal bed. The scorching heat licks your palms so aggressively that you jerk back, chains rattling, cuffs digging into your wrists.

For a good stretch, you can’t see anything, it looks like any other road. And then, you spot the stands, the people dressed in black on the left, mourning. On the right, it’s the same, but there’s also a choir of the mentors in red, standing together. You search quickly for Sejanus, yet you’re unable to find him.

Behind the truck is another army of Peacekeepers, marching in sync. The car continues down the avenue until you’re out of sight completely. And instead of stopping at the end of the street, like the Peacekeepers, it continues moving. You expect it to bring you back to the zoo, but you’re going in a different direction.

The wind caresses your skin from the car picking up speed. It temporarily cools the burning on your shoulders, but not by much. The group of you are brought across the river, where an amphitheater stands. The truck comes to a stop out front, and it stays here for the next thirty minutes, until the brigade of Peacekeepers show up.

After that, you’re brought off the truck, one by one, with two Peacekeepers flanking one tribute. With you being so far up, it takes them fifteen minutes before it’s your turn to get freed. They line you up numerically, in girl-boy order, and make you wait an additional half hour while the mentors get here.

They step off the bus, instructed to stand next to their tribute. Sejanus comes out with a grave look on his face, eyes on the ground. He lets out a sigh when he squeezes between you and the boy from One.

“I’ve got nothing for you, I’m sorry.” Sejanus murmurs. 

“It’s fine.” You whisper back. “They fed us last night and this morning.”

When all tributes and mentors are counted for, the Peacekeepers remove the bars from the entrance, swinging open the large doors to reveal a grand lobby. Inside, there are boarded-up booths and old curling posters from wartime. The Peacekeepers lead the way through the lobby, to the turnstiles.

Two soldiers stand at turnstiles on opposite ends, feeding coins into the machine to allow you to pass through at the same time as Sejanus. As soon as you step through, a cheerful voice says, “Enjoy the show!”

There’s a long cement hallway leading to where you’re going, lit up by only the red emergency lights. It’s too dark for you to walk with sure steps, so you reach over to Sejanus, chains rattling as your hands wrap around his elbow. He briefly glances over, where you give him a small smile. 

He places his free hand over yours, squeezing your fingers. He doesn’t let go, either, not until you’ve made it to the end, where you walk into the sunlight and onto a giant field. Your pace slows considerably, eyes sweeping the area, wondering why this is so familiar.

“Where are we?” You ask.

“The arena.” Sejanus tells you.

You stop, wanting a moment to take in just how large it is. What should be a healthy and green field is now dead and dried up. There’s a scoreboard hanging over the opening you just came through, with thousands of seats circling the arena behind it.

If this is where you’re going to come to fight in a couple short days, then you’ll have no issue hiding, at least. No matter where you go on Game day, you’ll be safe as long as you’re careful.

The Peacekeepers move off to the side, letting you spread out. Sejanus begins to lead you away immediately. “Did you come up with anything for the interview?”

“No, not with Marcus.” You sigh. “He’s dead-set on figuring it out on his own. I figure that I can play the sick sister card, maybe earn some sympathy.” 

“That could work, but they’re looking for talent.”

“I don’t have much of that.” Your feet come to a halt, you pull away from Sejanus’s arm. Your fingers are warm from where he’d been holding them. “You don’t need to worry about the interview, I’ll have that covered. It’s not a half-bad idea. People like to help the poor, and that’s all the districts are, right?”

Sejanus’s mouth turns downward, but he doesn’t object. “Right. I just wish I could do more.”

“You’re already doing enough, I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.” You say, “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Arachne? I could hardly call her that. She was closer with Coriolanus than me.” Sejanus shakes his head.

“Still, it’s hard losing someone in your class.” Your eyes land on a stray eyelash laying on his cheek. “Don’t move.”

You reach over, hand resting on the side of his face just long enough for your thumb to swipe away the eyelash. You hold it out for him to see, before brushing it away.

“Thank you.” He says.

“You have to keep up your appearance.” You laugh. “Mine doesn’t really matter anymore.”

“That’s not—”

An explosion shakes the arena, the fiery blast throwing you to the ground, head cracking against the cement. Through blurry eyes, you’re able to make out Sejanus in the smoke, hovering over you, before the black blotches eat away at your vision completely.

—

“Follow the light.” The woman tells you, clicking on the flashlight.

As you adjust the pack of ice against the side of your head, you listen to her directions, eyes flickering to keep track of the light. When she’s satisfied, she clicks it off, dropping it into a pocket on her lab coat. There’s a badge hanging from her neck with an old picture of her and her name.

Magnolia Peacescape. Her occupation is a veterinarian.

Your eyes land on her again, squinting suspiciously. The Capitol couldn’t even afford to give you a real doctor? They had to insist on someone who works on animals?

“What’s your name?” She asks, grabbing a clipboard.

“(Y/n) (L/n).” You murmur, attention shifting to the Peacekeepers who are dragging tributes into the zoo cage.

“How old are you?” She asks.

You open your mouth to speak, the number on the tip of your tongue before it slips away. Your face twists as you search the open air as if it’ll have some answer. All you come up with are blanks, you resort to staring at Magnolia.

She looks up from the paper. “How old are you?” She repeats.

“I’m not sure.” You admit. 

Her face contorts, she reluctantly looks away to write something on the paper. “District?”

“Two.”

“Who’s your mentor?” Her pen pauses.

Once again you have nothing, so you shake your head at her. “Am I supposed to know?”

The wrinkles on her face are deepening with every passing second. She licks her lips, looking over at the Peacekeepers briefly, before turning back to you. “Honey, what’s the name of the boy you came here with?”

Your eyes fall to the cement as you try to picture his face, or any features that may belong to the boy that she’s referring to. When that doesn’t work, you try to conjure up details about him, like his name, his age, his height. All of which she’s withholding.

“I’m sorry…” You murmur, trailing off.

She sighs, “Wait here.”

Magnolia Peacescape lowers the clipboard, pulling it against her chest. She walks over to one of the Peacekeepers standing by the metal doors, beginning to speak very quickly, none of it that you can hear over the moans of pain. The tributes are spread out through the enclosure, varying in how hurt they are from the bombing.

Most are covered in soot and smell like smoke from the fire. Their clothes are ripped or burned at the edges, exposing their skin. From what the Peacekeepers were saying, a good number of tributes were injured, but not as severely as the pair from District Nine, who were caught in the fire for an extended period of time.

And of course, a few of them died in the attack. Like the tributes from Six, who got caught by shrapnel, and the two from One, who had tried to escape the arena but got shot before they made it out of the entrance. There was one tribute that managed to escape, though, and that’s the boy you came here with.

As for the mentors, they don’t say much about them. You heard in passing that a pair of twins had died and three mentors got hospitalized. You couldn’t get any more than that, because they pushed you inside of the zoo.

“She needs to go to the hospital!” Magnolia’s high voice suddenly cuts through the noises. “She has a concussion.”

“We aren’t authorized to take them out of the exhibit.” The Peacekeeper drones. “If you have a request, you need to submit it to Dr. Gaul, she’s overseeing the mentoring program and the treatment of the tributes.”

She shakes her head. “So I’m going to have to go through that process for each one of them?” She motions to the cage. “They don’t have time for that.”

“It’s your only option.”

She waves her hand in the air, turning away, coming back in your direction. You move the ice pack the wrong way by accident, making the throbbing come back full force. You wince, pulling it away from your head as you fix your holding.

Magnolia grabs it from you, pats on the ice to make it flat, and then presses it against the dressed cut. “Keep it there until it melts.”

“Thank you.”

“I haven’t done much to deserve that.” She says, looking down at the clipboard. “It says here that you have two sisters, what are their names?” When you don’t respond, she takes a deep breath. “And your mother is dead, can you recall from what?”

You blink, “My mom is dead?”

She writes on the paper. “This is information we gathered from the interview that took place with your mentor.”

Your eyes wander away, thinking about your mom.

“Do you remember the interview?”

“No.” 

Magnolia sighs. “(Y/n), you’re eighteen years old. Your mentor is Sejanus Plinth, and the boy you came here with is Marcus. He escaped early this afternoon.”

Your face twists.

“I suspect you may have anterograde and retrograde amnesia. It’s caused by head trauma.” She stops long enough to write something on the clipboard, then clicks her pen and slides it into her pocket. “From what Mister Plinth told me at the scene, it would make sense. I’ll make a request for them to admit you to the hospital, but I can’t treat you any further. I don’t have the equipment.”

“Amnesia.” You mutter.

“I’ll be checking in on you as much as Dr. Gaul will allow it.” She presses her lips together. “You need to rest and take it easy. If you have any allies, I would suggest asking them to watch over you.”

With that, she walks away, heading to the next tribute. You stand there for a moment, watching as she begins to assess them. And then you turn away, to two piles of hay behind a rock formation. You wander toward it, lowering the ice pack, blinking away the tears that appear in your eyes.

—

In the three days that… that veterinarian visited, you were never actually taken to the hospital. Despite the numerous requests she made, and the notes stating that your memory is gradually getting worse, the doctor—the one in charge of the Games—never had you admitted. 

You weren’t the only one, the tributes from District Nine, who were in much worse shape than you, were neglected. They died sometime during the night, and their bodies were retrieved in the early morning yesterday. A few hours later, the rest of you were packed into two different trucks, separated by gender, with bars, where you were paraded through the streets for what you assume was another funeral.

When they got you together again this afternoon, you were afraid that more people had died, but the Peacekeepers said something about a second interview with your mentors. Which might as well be your first, because you can’t recall a single thing that happened the last time.

The two chairs on either side of you sit empty, their tributes long gone. You know that one of them is dead, but the boy you came here with is still missing. The Peacekeepers have questioned you five times in the past few days, demanding to know where he could’ve possibly gone. Each time they come around, you have to tell them that if he did mention a plan, you don’t remember due to the bombing.

You don’t remember anything.

A group of students dressed in bright red uniforms come down the spiral staircase on the far side of the large room. It really is nice here, with the tall ceilings, the engraved pillars and the arched windows. You haven’t seen anything like it before, the closest building that would come to this in District Two is the Justice Building, but even that’s too worn to compare.

A boy with curly brown hair comes in your direction, with brown eyes so wide that you can see into his soul. He sets his book bag on the ground, settling in the chair across from you. Without saying a single word, he leans forward, placing his hands on top of your shackled ones.

“(Y/n), I’m so glad you’re okay.” He says, face twisted with worry. “When I saw the amount of blood…”

The veterinarian… fuck what was her name? She kept telling you that you needed to be testing your memory, but it’s so hard when you can’t recall the smallest detail. She must’ve told you this boy’s name easily over three dozen times, and how he meant something to you. He’s your mentor of course, you know that much. He’s supposed to be beyond that.

“How are you feeling? Ma made a couple of cold cut sandwiches, you must be hungry.” He says, taking his hands away, opening his bag. “She told me that Doctor Peacescape saw all the tributes.”

Peacescape, that’s the veterinarian’s last name. Whether or not it’ll stick in your mind this time is a complete mystery. Just like the rest of the names, faces and events that should be ringing a bell but don’t.

The boy places a wrapped package on the table, presumably the sandwich. He sits back up in his chair. “It looks like she’s treated you well, the cut on your head is healing nicely.”

You stare at him, face contorted as you struggle to dig through your mind for his name, a significant memory, anything.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur, beginning to shake your head.

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s not your fault. They suspect it was rebels from the districts that placed the bombs.”

“That’s not why I’m apologizing.” You say, “The veterinarian…” You grit your teeth, you just heard her name. “Peacescape, that’s it. Doctor Peacescape diagnosed me with some amnesia disorder due to the concussion. She tried to get me admitted to the hospital but the um… the head doctor for the Games denied her requests.”

The boy has visibly paled. “You don’t remember anything?”

“I mean, I remember some.” Your eyes drift away, to the empty desk to the left, where your tribute partner should be. “There’s a lot of gaps in between.” You look back at him. “I know you’re my mentor, but I don’t know your name. And I know that the boy I came here with ran away in the bombing, but there’s no picture of him in my mind.”

His head has lowered, staring down at the sandwich. He doesn’t say anything for a long minute, thinking to himself. You reach as far as the handcuffs will allow you, which isn’t much. Still, you’re able to place a couple fingers on top of one of his hands.

“Peacescape said you mean something to me. I don’t think she was referring to the fact that you’re my mentor.”

He breathes out, defeated. “I used to live in District Two. Me, you and Marcus went to grade school together.” 

Your eyebrows draw in, waiting for there to be a hint of a memory. “Marcus?”

“The boy that escaped.” He says.

“And what’s your name?” 

“Sejanus Plinth.” 

A part of you wishes that the memories would suddenly flood in at the mention of his name. Like the dozens of times before, there is no reaction, nothing magically clicks. It sits there, at the front of your mind, where it’ll stay for the next few hours until its spotlight is gone. Then, it’ll fade like everything else.

“Sejanus, I’m sure we’re great friends.” You tell him.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/n). You shouldn’t be here.” He’s back to holding on to your fingers, tears appearing in his eyes. “You and Marcus should be at home.”

“There’s nothing we can do about it now.” You shake your head. “How far are we into the process?”

A tear slides down his cheek, he wipes it away. “Dr. Gaul has approved the sponsorship program, so we need to get you support from the Capitol.”

You nod, “That’s vaguely familiar.”

“Well, they’re still doing the interviews for that, it’s on a voluntary basis now, so it’s no longer required.” He sighs. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“I feel like I don’t have much of a choice. If that’s a factor that’ll help me win, I should do it.” You press your lips together. “Did I have any ideas?”

“You said you wanted to gain sympathy by telling them about your sick sister.” Sejanus murmurs.

“My sister is sick? Which one?” You ask.

“You didn’t say.” He says.

You tilt your head back, looking at the balcony above. You could honestly scream from how stupid this is. It makes no sense, how could you forget a detail that important? Or the fact that your mom is dead? Why is this happening to you?

“I’ll think of something else.” You tell him, closing your eyes. “I can’t use that anymore because I don’t remember.”

“It’s okay, (Y/n), you don’t have to.” Sejanus says.

A whistle is blown, you jump in the chair, yanking your hands toward your head to cover, but they don’t even make it halfway before the cuffs dig into your skin harshly, halting the movement. You squeeze your eyes shut as your hands begin to tremble.

A hand is placed on your arm, squeezing your shoulder. “You don’t have any pockets, so you need to put the sandwich in your shirt somewhere. I’m out of time.”

You breathe out shakily, leaning into the table to hook a finger around the inside of your shirt. “If you can wedge it there.”

He does, and no matter how hard you jostle, it keeps in place, giving you hope that it’ll make it back to the zoo enclosure. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says, getting to his feet. “Okay?”

You have to force yourself to nod, raising your head. He doesn’t move from where he stands, waiting for your confirmation. “Okay.” You breathe.

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

[sweet-honey-tears]

If They Where Dads

Fluff head cannons! 🤍

Gender neutral reader. Kinda sounds like reader gave births but I kinda figured it’s either adoption or a quirk that can combine dna. Idk.

Feel free to leave request for other characters!

Daycare pick up head cannon

Aged up of course!!

💥Katsuki Bakugou💥

“She's beautiful”

“Daddy’s gonna buy you the fucking world.”

Big red eyes stared back as tiny hands gripped scared calloused fingers.

He would teach his kids sign language incase he ever does lose his hearing.

Is the type of dad that just carries the baby because fuck the stroller and shit- he’s a walking one that can also rock the little monster to sleep.

Will call the baby ‘Mini SpitFire’ and ‘Adorable Monster’(better than dumbass)

Will sign his daughter(and future kid- aka his baby boy) up for karate

And if his kid doesn’t have a quirk, he’s going to sign them up for a bunch of self-defense classes. He wants to protect them from people like him growing up.

Your phone Lock Screen is a picture of your toddler mid-sprint to the door as Katsuki is crouched with arms wide open. He had just gotten off a patrol, his hair mused and masked pushed up. His gauntlets pushed to the side. His face was dirty and stained. But his smile was huge and little tears are in his eyes from seeing his little mini spitfire come running to him.

“Don’t post that”

“But Kat-“

“No”

Can't let the public know king explosion murder is a big old softy. No, that is only for his family.

🦈Eijiro Kirishima🦈

Dude freaked out when he found out it’s gonna be twins- girls a matter of fact’ As babies, he’d put them in little shark onesies and then put on his own.

Your Lock Screen is a picture of your two beautiful twin girls in these little onesies and your Home Screen is Pro Hero Red Riot in a large Great White Shark onesie holding his two lovely(in shark onesies) twin girls in each of his arms. A big, proud, sharp smile stretched on his face.

He is the kind of dad to strap one of the girls to his chest, the other girl you have strapped to yours. There is totally a picture on the fridge of you two like that.

Would call his girls:

“Little riot, stop pulling your sister's hair!”

“Sharky, you shouldn’t be up there!”

The girls will call you Mama Papa, or Sharky Shark. (So- MommaShark! SharkyShary or ShaSha!) They call Kiri Daddy Shark.

The girls have shark plushies, cat ones, and so many plushies! One of the girls’ favorites, when they were toddlers, was a Red Riot plush. They’d hold it so damn tight whenever Kiri had to leave on a long mission.

They call the Bakuquad the following when they are very young:

Uncle Bak-uh-dough

Unky Serooooo

Aunty Mina

Unk Donkey or Denks (purely because Denki will make a goofy face when they say it)

Also, I think Testu would still pop by and the girl would call him Test.

⚡️Denki⚡️

Would freak the fuck out when he finds out but also be so excited

Will call the baby “Sparky!” And bakugou will say it sounds like you're calling a dog-

⚡️“ but you use to call me stuff like that-“

“Yeah I know”

⚡️“ but you said it sounds like a dog-“

“Yup”

Bakuogou felt a light hit to the back of his head. You walk past him while holding your/Denki’s baby. He just laughs. What? You’d think he’d do or say something to a woman holding a baby. Fuck no.

There’s a picture on your phone of Denki holding your baby, who is fast asleep, with rubber gloves on his hands. He’s being incredibly careful now. Wearing rubber gloves to ensure he never accidentally sparks the baby. He keeps getting excited every time he sees you two. That’s your Home Screen FWI.

The baby does have a Pikachu onesie. And a hat with the ear sticking up. As well as a Pokeball pillow(Mina got them for Christmas)

I feel like Shinso stops over a lot too. Like these guys are really good friends in the future.

“Uncle Shin!”

“Hey there Spark” he would totally gift the baby little cat stuffed animals and cat hairpins.

▪️🔸Sero🔸▪️

Sero would be surprised but stay chill.

Sero would call his baby girl:

“Hermosa (beautiful) you gotta wake up. We have to get ready for school”

Would teach his daughter Spanish(assuming you also know it too)

The girl's room is decorated with plants and cute food tapestries. There would definitely be one of those egg nest swings in the room(the ones above ground and hanging from the wall). He would hold the baby and rock them to sleep in it.

I feel like the baby would have a really cute, soft, cartoon ‘spider’ plush. But it’s not even really a spider- but a blob with a ‘:3’ face and eight legs. Totally has cat ears. Sero found it one day and was like ‘yup, that’s coming home’.

You couldn’t stop laughing when you saw it, you frickin love it.

Sero brings home the cutest but most random stuffed animals and toys. Ones that are just funny and adorable but make no fucking sense.

At an older age, Sero would definitely play with his daughter via his quirk. Your lock Screen is a picture of your daughter hanging upside down, her ‘spider’ plush hanging in her hand.

[evansbby]

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 (𝒑𝒐𝒚𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: noncon, dubcon, somnophilia, daddy kink, dark Steve, lactation kink, breeding kink, a/b/o dynamics, some feet stuff, oral (female receiving), 18+ minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve is horny but you’re asleep. That doesn’t mean he won’t have his fun...

(𝑨/𝑵): This is heavy with the somno, so please beware of that! If it isn’t your cup of tea, feel free to ignore and move on! 

It’s only 11 at night when Steve walks back into his house. Sam and Bucky are still at the party, but Steve had grown bored within an hour. The truth was, parties didn’t hit the same anymore. Just a bunch of drunk assholes and slutty cheerleaders grinding against each other in a dark haze of alcohol and weed. And as much as Steve tried to enjoy himself, his mind would always drift back to you.

His little omega, perfectly quiet and shy. Safe and sound in his bedroom (he’d locked the doors of the house before he’d left, lest you sneak out. Not that you ever would). Sometimes, he drags you along to these parties only because you look so deliciously uncomfortable and cling to him in the sexiest way. He also likes showing you off from time to time, knowing that the other alphas would kill to have you.

But mostly, Steve likes keeping you safe in his bedroom. He likes walking in to you studying on his desk or his bed, with your little Steve Junior under your arm. Wearing Steve’s old football jersey that completely dwarfs you, his mark on your neck peeking out from under your hair and reminding him of his complete and utter ownership over you.

Fuck, now Steve’s hard. He hopes you’re not asleep, because he can’t wait to sink into your tight little snatch, feel you squeeze around his cock like it’s your job. You’re always so ready for him, so needy for his dick and so snug around it, all weepy and grabby as your feral desire overtakes your shyness. Jesus fucking Christ, his dick is harder than a rock, and he all but sprints up to his bedroom.

You’re asleep. And goddamit, you look so fucking cute. Wrapped up in the comforter like a little burrito in the middle of his king-sized bed. Your head resting on Steve’s pillow rather than your own, and your Steve Junior teddy cuddled up in your arms. Steve feels his mouth quirk up into a smile before he stops himself – he’s no pussy simp! But you do look cute as fuck, so sweet and innocent. So different from all the other sluts he’s used to.

Slowly, Steve peels the comforter off your body before rolling his eyes because underneath that, you’ve covered yourself even further with your little fuzzy blanket that’s more ratty than it is fuzzy. Omegas and their damn nesting tendencies. Steve makes a mental note to order you a new blanket as he sheds this one off of you, only to be greeted by a host of stuffed animals covering your body in yet another layer that he has to get past.

“Fucking asshole toys.” He mutters, before shoving all your toys (except Steve Junior) into a haphazard heap on the floor, making sure to give one or two of them a hard punch in the face for being annoying.

And sure, Steve realises that his room is a lot more feminine now ever since you moved in – flowery bedsheets and stuffed animals everywhere and your beautiful perfumey scent covering everything he owns. But he doesn’t mind as much as he initially thought he would. When Sharon was his girlfriend, he never let her live with him but she would spend the night and try to mess with his stuff by putting her own things on his desk. Best believe, Steve would chuck her random shit in the trash, but you? You’re different.

“So fucking cute…” He murmurs to himself, watching you shiver and hold on tightly to Steve Junior, your nose digging into his fur and a sweet little frown on your face at the loss of warmth from the lack of comforter. He can’t help but stroke your cheek with his knuckles, loving how soft you are. So sweet and pretty and perfect. And most importantly, all his. Every inch of your body belongs to Steve, and it makes him so fucking hard.

“Baby, you have no idea how horny I am right now.” He tells you, continuing to stroke your face while you lay asleep on his pillow. He casually palms his dick with his other hand, already feeling like he’ll blow his load just from looking at you sleeping. “And look at you, fast asleep when you’re the one who gets daddy all riled up in the first place.”

“Steve?” You mumble, scrunching your nose cutely, and it looks like you’re stirring. But you only toss and turn a bit before getting comfortable again, and Steve resumes stroking your cheek for a while before his hand starts slipping down. Down past your delicate neck which bares not only his mark, but often also the imprints of his fingers after he’s choked you during a particularly rough fuck. Down to your chest, covered in his old jersey filled with holes.

He pushes the jersey up over your breasts, watching, almost hypnotised, as your nipples harden in the cool air. God, he loves your tits so fucking much, and you look so pretty all nude and bathing in the moonlight.

It reminds him of the early days, before he’d claimed you. Sometimes, he’d follow you home. Well, that ratty dorm room you called home. And it was all too easy to stand outside your window, watch you change because you were too dumb to draw your curtains. And those moments when you were bare, the moonlight painting you a pretty silver and you being completely unaware that Steve was watching you… Fuck, how beautiful you’d looked. And how hard Steve would cum every time he’d jack off to the memory.

Except not anymore, because now he has you in his bed. His own personal omega to do with as he pleases. Awake or asleep, it doesn’t matter to Steve – he owns you after all. In fact, you should thank him for being thoughtful and not waking you up. And a part of him does want to wake you up so he can fuck the living daylights out of you while you whine and cry all sleepily. But there’s just something about you, asleep and innocent, not knowing he’s watching you and touching you.

Fuck, he can’t help but lean down to suck your nipple. You’re practically begging for it, after all! Lying there with your nipples so hard they could cut glass. And you let out the cutest little whimper when his mouth latches onto one of your breasts, almost as if you’re having a dirty dream about him. Steve really hopes you are, because he has sex dreams about you all the time. He has ever since he first saw you.

“God, your tits are so sexy, baby.” He tells you as he squeezes and sucks. And Steve loves sucking your nipples, he could do it for hours if it was feasible. He loves how you card your fingers through his hair (when you’re awake, that is) and press his face more into your breasts while you whine like a baby. Sometimes, he likes to pretend you’re pregnant and he’s sucking your milk as you let him feed from you. God, that would be so fucking sexy – he can’t wait till he knocks you up.

“Mmhmm.” You mumble in your sleep, and Steve smirks against your nipple, licking and biting and grazing his teeth against it, sucking your whole breast into his mouth obscenely, wishing he had set his camera up so he could’ve got all of this on tape. And then he’d make you watch it tomorrow morning and threaten to post it online. (Not that he ever would, but he loves making you cry and beg).

“Daddy knows,” He tells you when he glances up to see you still asleep but your lips have formed the shape of an ‘o’ and there’s a tell-tale furrow between your brow. “Daddy knows what a dirty girl you are, how you like it when I use your body while you sleep.” He switches to your other breast, wanting to bite down hard but knowing you’d wake up if he did. He squeezes and pushes your tits together as he sucks obscenely, his hard dick poking against your leg through his jeans as he hovers over you. Damn, he can’t wait till you’re pregnant and lactating, and your tits would be so fucking huge and heavy when you’d breastfeed him.

“God, you’re teasing me, aren’t you, baby omega?” Steve lets go of your nipple with a pop, admiring his saliva shining all over your bare breasts. “You just had to look all sexy while you slept, didn’t you? It’s all your fault that I have to use you like this, baby. All your fault. But that’s okay, because daddy’s gonna make you feel good too.”

And with that, he continues exploring your body. Stroking and fondling and licking his way down your stomach, making sure to poke his tongue into your belly button. You shuffle a bit at that, but Steve holds your body in place and watches intently as you mumble something unintelligible before relaxing into deep sleep once more.

“Let’s see how wet your little baby pussy is, shall we?” Steve asks, and he can feel his excitement because his blood is rushing straight down to his dick. If he was hard before, he can’t even describe how uncomfortable his boner is now. Quickly, he undoes his fly and pulls his dick out, hissing in relief once his throbbing length bobs up against his abs.

He grabs your thighs, taking a moment to appreciate how soft you feel, before prying your legs apart. And he knows you’re not wearing any panties because he forbade you from doing so in bed. (He needs easy access at night and in the morning when he fucks you). And your bare pussy glistens in the moonlight and fuck, Steve feels like a salivating animal. He gets the sudden feral urge to mount you and fuck you so hard, fill you up over and over again with his seed while you scream for him to stop because he’s being too rough.

Instead, Steve closes his eyes for a second and savours your sweet scent. God, your pussy smells so good. It’s like your scent but amplified. And the best part? You’re completely soaked. He can’t believe just how wet you are, your pussy glistening in the moonlight as you lay all spread out before him. You’ve even dripped down onto his sheets, leaving a damp patch underneath you and Steve is utterly transfixed.

“Naughty little baby, look at the mess you’ve made,” he scolds, giving your thigh a gentle slap. He wants to hit you harder but he knows you’ll wake up if he does. “Look how fucking soaked you are for daddy.” He glances down at his dick which he’s slowly pumping with his other hand. Instinctively, he swipes the bead of precum from the head of his cock and looks up at your face wickedly, “Daddy’s hard for you too, omega.”

He rubs his precum on your lower lip, breath hitching at the sexiness of it all. And you look so pretty and sleepy, immediately licking your lips and moaning softly while he stares at you with wide eyes. “Mmm,” you whimper, and it’s the sexiest little whimper ever. And, as if things couldn’t get any hotter, your lips latch onto his thumb, sucking his digit while Steve swears under his breath.

“You’re a little freak in the sheets even when you’re asleep, aren’t you?” He marvels, letting you suckle his thumb while his dick throbs with need. “God, none of the guys would believe what a slutty little thing you are behind closed doors. Sucking on daddy’s thumb like a little slut? And after I’ve fed you my cum? Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking sexy and you have no fucking idea, do you?”

You don’t answer, of course, but you pout in your sleep when he removes his thumb from your mouth. He gives your cheek a few condescending pats before refocusing on your pussy. Fuck, Steve’s practically salivating at your sweet little cunt all splayed out for him, and you’re none the wiser while you sleep, clutching that damned Steve Junior in your arms.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to dig in like he’s a starved man. His lips immediately latch around your clit, which is puffy and swollen and so cute. He sucks hard, eyes widening when you let out the loudest moan yet. But then you settle back down, still asleep, and Steve continues as if he’s famished and about to start a five-course-meal.

“Your cute little button’s all puffy, baby.” Steve tells you, “I wonder what you’re dreaming about that’s got you all worked up.” He puffs his chest out, “Well, I know it’s me. And tomorrow you’ll act all innocent like you always do, and stutter all cutely as if you aren’t acting like a little whore in heat right now.”

And sure enough, you’re steadily grinding down on Steve’s face, unconscious as ever but he just loves the feel of your wet cunt against his face. Half of him wants to flip both of you over so that you’re sitting on his face, completely smothering him with your sweet folds while he bites and sucks and probes and brings you to one orgasm after another.

Instead, he continues licking you, loving how your thrusts meet his licks, and how your quivering thighs limply wrap around his head. He spits, watching his saliva pool around your engorged clit before he gives it another hearty suck. And fuck, he knows your body so well, he knows you’re about to orgasm because of the way you start panting, and how your knees try to lock around his head.

And Steve pulls away, because you’re his and he’ll decide when (or if) you cum tonight. And he loves the little pout your lips form into, and how you frown in your sleep and clutch Steve Junior harder. “Slutty little omega…” Steve murmurs before trailing sloppy kisses down your thigh. Stroking the smooth skin of your calf before he grabs your ankle, and his gaze shifts and eyes grow darker.

He’s still jacking off with one hand, the other holding your leg as he carefully examines the anklet he’d gifted you a few days ago. It’s a dainty gold chain with charms that spell out his name. Steve Rogers. He’d instructed you to put it on and absolutely never take it off unless he told you to. It’s another reminder that you are completely and irrevocably his, an omega who is claimed property, and his first before anything else.

The anklet is amongst the many different ways he plans to own you. First was his mark on your neck, of course. Then this anklet that spells out his name. And then what? Maybe a necklace with his initials? Or a tattoo above your pussy that firmly states: “S.G.R”? God, his dick twitches at the very thought.

But the anklet looks so dainty around your ankle, and he gets the sudden urge to nuzzle your foot up against his face, the feeling going straight to his dick. He can’t help but admire your pretty feet, how he’d paid for you to get a pedicure and they’d painted your toes a pretty white colour. Fuck, so fucking sexy. He presses a kiss on each toe before his lips trail downwards, leaving wet kisses on the pad of your foot before licking a tantalising stripe down the instep of your heel.

Your entire body jolts, and Steve can practically sense your pussy clenching and releasing more of your wetness to drip down on the sheets below. Your sweet fucking cream staining his sheets because your baby pussy is getting turned on by your alpha kissing your feet. Steve can’t help but smirk, and wonders how he’ll tell you this tomorrow.

He takes his phone out and clicks on the camera, recording while grabbing your other foot and repeating the same actions. Pressing little butterfly kisses on each toe while you wiggle and squirm in your sleep. And then he licks up your foot, gently sucking on your toes while he tries not to groan at how sexy this is.

He lets go with a pop, throwing his phone aside while he smirks down at you, “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that, baby. I know you did because I know what a slutty little girl you are.” He strokes your leg, “Don’t worry, daddy filmed it for my private collection. I’m sure you’ll love to see it tomorrow.”

He can just imagine how distraught and shy you’d be when he showed you the video, how you’d beg him to delete it. But he wouldn’t. He has almost hundreds of videos and pictures of you already taking up half the storage on his phone. He’s just so addicted to capturing you on film, addicted to how your naked body moves and responds to him. It’s fascinating, beautiful, so sexy and incredibly hot. And he can’t get enough.

Now, Steve crawls back up your body. And he knows he’s acting like a total creep, and that he could just wake you up and fuck you like how he usually does. But there’s something so vulnerable about you being fast asleep, and he’s nowhere near done playing with you.

You’re on your back, snoring softly into Steve Junior’s fur. But Steve gently manhandles you till you’re facedown, your stomach against the sheets and his favourite part of your body facing him. And he almost salivates at the sight of your bare ass, all cute and round and poking out at him as if you’re teasing him. As if you’re begging to be touched and groped and violated. (Not that it would be a violation, since Steve owns your body and can do with it what he pleases, and when he pleases).

He can’t help but give your ass cheek a firm little slap, watching with baited breath as you mumble something under your breath. Still asleep. He pinches and prods and squeezes to his heart’s desire, like your ass is his own personal toy. Which, in a way, it is. Under the dim moonlight, he can see his teeth-marks on your flesh where he’d bit you the last time he’d spanked you. He just couldn’t help it then, and his chest fills with pride now, hoping the mark will permanently mar your ass and remind you of who you belong to.

“Your sexy little ass is just begging to be fucked, omega.” Steve breathes, imagining how tight and sexy it would feel if he just shoved his dick up your ass. But instead, he leans down to give your smooth skin a light kiss, before turning you onto your back once more. And it’s crazy how deep of a sleeper you are, unperturbed by how he’s playing with your unconscious body which he jacks off.

“Steve…mhm…please…” You breathe softly, and the delicate sound goes straight to his dick. You were begging for his dick, even in your sleep. If that wasn’t the sexiest thing Steve had ever witnessed, he didn’t know what was.

“Oh. So you want me to take advantage of you while you sleep?” He tsks, giving your cheek another condescending pat. “What a naughty little girl you are, but I already knew that. You may be all innocent but that doesn’t mean you’re not a cock-hungry little slut when you’re under me.” He pinches your cheek and chuckles under his breath when you pout.

He carefully straddles your chest, making sure not to crush you with his weight. But now, he’s got his dick right above your sweet, sleeping face. He cant help but rub it against your cheeks and nose and forehead, making sure his scent and his precum is smeared all over your face. And fuck, he’s so ready to just blow his load.

“Slutty little omega…” Steve breathes, tracing the tip of his dick against your soft lips. And, as if on cue and by some fucking miracle, your lips part. Steve can’t believe it, “Good girl. That’s such a good little girl…” He praises you, inserting his tip into your mouth and watching in awe as you suckle it in your sleep.

“Mhm, daddy…” You moan sleepily, like a fucking porn-star or an actress at least. Steve is in complete awe at how whiny and needy you sound and it goes straight to his dick.

“That’s right, baby. Suck daddy’s dick like the obedient little slut you are.” He commands you, wanting to shove his whole length into your mouth but knowing he’d choke you if he did that. Instead, he lets you suck on his tip while he continues to jack off at the sight. With his other hand, he grabs yours and squeezes it, not really knowing why apart from the fact that he felt the need to do it.

He cums fast, and it’s no surprise since he’s been edging himself all this time whilst fondling your body. And he’s so used to cumming down your throat, that it takes all his willpower to pull out before he blows his load all over your face. And fuck, if it isn’t the sexiest thing in the world, your face coated in his cum, and you still don’t wake up.

“Fuckin’ cockslut.” Steve mutters under his breath, stopping to marvel at how beautiful you look before he gathers the cum on your cheek with his finger and slips it into your mouth, smirking when you suck it off obediently. Fuck, even in your sleep you’re obedient. He continues to feed you his cum until your face is somewhat clean (he leaves a bit of residue, something for you to wonder about in the morning). And then he climbs off you, something inside him compelling him to give you a soft kiss on the cheek for being such a good girl for him.

He takes a quick trip to the bathroom to piss and wash off before changing into a pair of sweats and returning. You’re still asleep, of course. It’s slightly alarming, what a deep sleeper you are, but you still look cute as fuck. You’re on his side of the bed, head resting on his pillow, and so he has to gently scoop you up and slip in underneath you before placing you down on his chest and covering the two of you with the heavy comforter.

“Steve? You’re home?” You say sleepily, cuddling up into his chest as his arms wrap around you. Your eyes are still shut and you seem to be half asleep still, and unaware of everything that’s just taken place in the past few minutes, but he can’t help but respond.

“Yeah. The party was boring.”

“Missed you.” You mumble softly into the hardness of his chest, and Steve feels a certain stirring deep down.

He yawns, “Oh yeah? I was only gone for a few hours.”

“Always miss you.”

And then you’re snoring softly once more, and Steve’s left to stare at the ceiling in pitch darkness. You’re still and content, cuddled up on his side and practically on top of him, with Steve Junior in your arms. Sound asleep. And Steve can’t help but hold you just a little bit tighter, and give you a soft kiss on your forehead, before he follows suit.

THE END! 

Please do let me know what you think! I know this is a drabble but technically it isn’t bc it’s like 3.9k words!! So please do give feedback and tell me what you think and reblog and all that good stuff! Love you guys and I love writing for this pairing!!! I was hesitant to write more in Steve’s POV but I just focused on his horniness and not on any emotional stuff!!! THANK YOU FOR READING BYE

[nyxoz]

just some wild sex in the kitchen at night💦

Stumbling into the trailer, Eddie’s hands paw at whatever skin he can reach. The door slams shut behind you and the only light comes from the overhead lamp on the stove, casting a yellowish tinge throughout the trailer.

You turn and face Eddie, you’re feet shuffling backwards as he chases after you with his lips. He finally lands his soft lips on yours and licks into your mouth filthily. He taste like beer and cigarettes and everything you’ve ever loved.

You moan into the kiss and break it off with a giggle as you hit the kitchen counter with your back. Eddie’s lips leave yours and trail down your jawline to your neck, nipping along the way.

His hands that were on your waist, come down to the hem of your dress, hiking it up your thighs and bunching it over your stomach.

“Been such a fucking tease all night.” He says into the skin of your neck, “My dicks been rock hard watching you prance around in this fucking sinful dress.” His hand comes down and slaps at your ass as best it can from the angle.

You gasp and drop your head back, laughing a little in shock.

“You like that?” He chuckles and lands another slap on the same spot.

He hastily turns you around and presses his hand into the back of your neck, bending you over the counter and pushing your ass into the air.

He lets go of you, trusting you to stay put as you hear him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. The rustling of him pushing his pants and boxers down echos in the trailer.

One of his hands comes to pull your panties to the side, as his other guides his dick towards your entrance.

Your legs are stood wide, and your face is pushes into the cold wooden bench. You can feel the heat of your breath wafting back towards you as he pushes into you.

His cock slides in with ease, your pussy wet and wanting. He pushes all the way in, his pelvis pressing into the swell of your ass. His hand comes up and grabs a hold of your hair, pulling your head up harshly.

“Always take my dick so well, sweetheart.” He groans as he begins thrusting into you.

You moan as he grabs at your waist with one hand, gripping at the skin meanly. His other hand is still buried in your hair, holding it tight to keep your head up.

He fucks into you hard and fast, the sound of skin hitting skin sounds throughout the room. You’re sure it could probably be heard by anyone passing by as well.

You hold onto the bench as best you can, trying to stay up right.

You feel his heavy balls hitting your ass with each thrust. He keeps pulling you harshly back by your hip and hair every time he pounds into you.

You moan at a particularly hard thrust.

“Love my cock do you, baby? Huh?” He taunts.

You whimper out as his cock head hits that spot inside you that has you clenching around him.

He slaps your ass and the sound echos, “Asked you a question.”

You nod as best you can with the his hold on your hair, “Yes! Yes. I love your cock!”

Tears prick at your eyes as the pleasure takes over you. Your core tightens as the white heat begins to build.

One of your hands comes down to your front, pressing under your panties and sliding over your clit.

Eddie notices and yanks your head back, “Yeah baby, touch yourself. Want you to come on my cock.”

You moan as you begin circling your clit, the new pleasure only increasing the heat in your core.

Eddie’s hips start to stutter a bit, his form getting sloppy and his moans becoming breather.

His hand in your hair pulls to angle your face to the side. He leans down and presses his face into your temple, “Gonna come for me, princess? Milk me fucking dry.”

Your fingers fasten their pace on your clit and with the press of his cock dragging along your walls you can’t stop the orgasm that crashes over you.

You cry out and hold onto the bench, clenching tightly around Eddie’s dick making him let out a string of curses.

It only takes a few more thrusts before he’s filling you up with a loud groan into your neck.

His hips move slow before finally stopping, pressed deep inside you. His grip on your hair loosens and his body becomes slack as he leans against you.

You can’t help but start laughing as you come down from your high, mind blown at the crazed sex you just had.

“That. Was. So fucking hot.” Eddie says laughing along with you.

celebrate 500 followers with me and send a prompt 💌

[whorekneecentral]

Bitch! Erling is hitting bro. Can you do thigh riding with phrase #35

got you bestie 🫡 // prompt: “you’re so filthy… all this for me? how cute.”

Erling had been away for international duties for the last week and a half, between that and the last of the press stuff they did for the end of the season, you felt like you hadn't seen him in forever.

The two of you made sure to crave at last one afternoon at home for a date night, hence why you were at some random restaurant on a Wednesday night.

The two of you chatted, catching up on what he’s been up to during his time away; though he’s been home in between, you didn’t do much talking. It really was only a few days you two had together between the seasons and Erling spent most of them between your legs, a little too preoccupied to have a chat so it was nice to just sit and talk for a bit. 

He leans towards you, a large hand on your thigh. "You look beautiful tonight."

"Opposed to other nights?" You teased and he smiles, shaking his head.

Every so often, you could feel his hand move up just an inch. 

Erling being the troublesome guy he is, loved to just suddenly press against your clit while you spoke to the waiter. 

More than once, he's asked if you were alright and you assured him you were, all while squeezing your boyfriend’s hand. 

He quickly gave up on that idea when he realized he wasn’t getting the reaction he wanted out of you.

It took you a few minutes to gather your composure again, letting him pay the bill in the meantime. The night was quiet, the breeze blowing cold as you took a few quick steps to the car that was tucked away in the back of the parking lot before getting in the back seat. 

His brows pull together but follow you anyways. The door shuts and you shift the two of you around before he can protest. 

Straddling his lap, your dress bunched over your hips. Erling's hands rest on your ass, squeezing it before giving it a smack. “Hi beautiful,” he looks up at you, perched all pretty on his lap. 

“Hi,” you hum, leaning down to kiss him. He complains as you scoot back onto his thigh. “Come on, babe, that’s not fair.”

“What’s wrong baby? Can’t handle it?” You go to move off his lap but he holds you in place.

“No, no. I can take it, I promise.” He says, nodding as his eyes find yours in the dark car.

You laugh, “so eager and you don’t even know what I’m giving you yet.”

Erling scrunches his nose, twisting his expression to show his slightly sour mood. “You’re on my lap, in the backseat. It can only mean one thing.”

“Is that so?” Your lips along his neck, fingers making quick work to undo the buttons on his shirt.

You ignore his tugging, instead you start rocking yourself on his thigh. Back and forth very slowly. Your nails scratch down his chest, faint red marks being left behind.

Erling groans, his head tossed back and he lifts his leg slightly. The sudden change caused you to slide forward, clit rubbing against the denim fabric under you.

The sound that left your mouth was like heaven on earth to him.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad.

His eyes fixed on you, Erling's hands gliding you back and forth, slowly moving you faster with each push and pull.

“So pretty,” he coos, pushing your hair back off your shoulders. “You’re so filthy… all this for me? How cute.”

You nod, pushing down on his thigh a little harder. “C’mon, let me hear all those pretty sounds, you don’t have to be quiet baby.”

[moonscape]

sounds like a bunch of rocks hitting each other

[mothdruid]

asdfghjkl (respectfully) gimme that Rooster with ‘you make me so horny I can think straight’ from the dirty teasing prompts pretty please ilysm 👀😈🫠

Think Straight

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x fem!reader

summary: it was a fun night at the Hard Deck. it becomes even more fun when Rooster pulls you around back for some extra fun.

wc: 900

warnings: 18+, smut, minors dni, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, pet names, dirty talk

It had been a long night at the hard deck, but a fun one nonetheless. The entire cohort was out and about, catching up for old times sake. It was rare that all of you were in the same area anymore. But things hadn’t truly picked up until Rooster arrived. You and Rooster had always had a thing for each other that never ended up going anywhere, until tonight. 

Rooster through all proper thoughts out the window once he saw you in that, shorter than usual, sundress. The pale yellow tone made him question his sanity, which became even more questioned when you bent over while playing pool. Rooster stood behind you, trying to hide his new favorite sight from the others. His chest brushed against your back when you stood up. 

“When did you get so close?” You whispered as he leaned closer to you. It was like the rest of the world stopped when he was this close to you. One of his hands ghosted over your waist. Bradley let out a snicker when he heard your question. 

“Just showed up.” Hot breath hit your earlobe as he spoke. A tug at your hips pulled you back, his hips pressing into your ass. Your eye lit up when you felt his half hard cock press against your ass. 

“Just showed up and you’re this excited to see me?” You looked around to make sure that no one was watching the two of you. Alas, your eyes locked with Bob’s. You grabbed at Bradley’s hand on your waist as you set your pool stick down. The two of you excused yourself,accepted a few knowing looks, then headed outside to the back of the Hard Deck. 

Bradley’s lips were hot on your neck, hands carelessly roaming your body. Your own fingers threaded through his hair, arms resting on his shoulders. His hands landed on your ass, kneading the flesh as he nipped and lapped at your neck. A groan ripped from Bradley’s throat as you tugged his hair roughly. One of Bradley’s hands slipped under the back of your dress while he slotted his leg between your thighs. 

“Fuck,.” Bradley grunted as he rocked his hips against yours, “you make me so horny I can’t think straight.” You let out a whine as the two of you rocked together. One of Bradley’s hands sat on the small of the back as the two of you rocked together. Your hips rolled on his thigh, trying to gain more friction and pressure. 

The hand kneading at your ass moved around to press against your cunt. Without thought your hips stuttered forward, surprised by Bradley’s boldness. You could feel Bradley smirk against your skin as he felt the wetness soaking your panties. “That fucking wet for me?” 

“I’m always this wet for you.” Bradley’s mustache twitched before he smashed his lips into yours. Fingers trailed the edge of your panties, silently asking for permission. “You better hurry up or else I’m gonna have a problem, Bradshaw.” Your panties were quickly pushed to the side, Bradley’s fingers sliding between your folds. A moan fell from you as you felt circles against your clit. The cotton of his shirt was bunched between your fingers. Your head rested on his chest as his fingers circled on your clit. Whimpers and moans poured from you as Bradley worked you over. 

“You sound so good for me, princess.” Bradley whispered. 

“More, I need more.” Your hands pawed at the belt on his shorts. Bradley picked up on the message and pulled his hand from your panties. Both of his hands went to your waist, turning you around and pressing you against the wall. The fabric of your dress rose quickly, being bunched up around your waist. 

The sound of Bradley’s belt and zipper could be heard over the music from in the bar. It was exhilarating, being so close to being caught. It wasn’t the first time you two had been like this before. Occasional ready room and late night locker room make outs were some of your favorites. 

Without warning you felt him push your panties to the side and press inside of you. The stretch pushed a moan out of you, matching Bradley’s groan when he bottomed out. He felt you flutter around him at a crash from inside the bar. A hot breath covered the back of your neck, “Want them to find us?” 

A whimper hung on your lips while he started fucking into you. Each thrust had you making noise, small whimpers and moans filling Bradley’s ears. It wasn’t long before the both of you were close. Bradley wrapped an arm around your front and pressed his fingers into your folds. Circle motions plagued your clit again, tugging you closer to climax. 

Pleasure flooded your system as your climax tumbled forward, finally arriving. You clenched tightly around Bradley, his thrusts becoming messy. With only a few more pumps he was coming inside you. Bradley rested his head on your back while you steady the both of you against the wall. 

“You always feel so good.” Bradley whispered as he pulled out of you. Your legs shook as you rested against the wall, trying to steady them. Bradley wrapped an arm around you, keeping you close and steady. 

“You always do this to me.” Bradley smiled as he kissed your cheek.

“I know, baby.”

[eleanor-bradstreet]

The Field: Lavender Forever (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Modern AU Rated: 18+ - explicit sexual content, drug use Word count: 2.4k

Part 1: Dandelions Part 3: In a Week Masterpost

Summary: Two years into your relationship, you and Benedict share pleasures on a summer day.

Author's Note: The second in a four-part series based on songs about fields/nature that I associate with Benedict. This part is based on the song Lavender Forever by Jake Wesley Rogers. Thank you to the talented @bridgertontess who made me oodles of photo edits for the header image! 💙

Two years later

You were on your back with Benedict’s head between your legs when the tea took hold. Sprawled on his bed with your dress bunched around your waist, you surrendered your body to the sensations he and his favorite elixir could stir within you. You had been wary the first time he offered you the mysterious purple powder his brother Colin had brought back from some remote corner of the world. But after learning to mask the taste in a cup of tea and having several exhilarating trips where every nerve hummed with heightened sensation, you now shared his fondness for it, particularly when paired with sex. 

You knew you were being irresponsible, rude even, to be getting high and getting off like a teenager visiting her boyfriend and sneaking around his parents’ house. But while he was your boyfriend and this was his family home, you were old enough to know better and Benedict was not the reason you were at Aubrey Hall. It was the company outing, now an annual tradition after its initial runaway success. It had grown from a dinner into an entire weekend and you had arrived early to help Anthony coordinate. Everything was in hand but you still would have made yourself available to your boss were it not for his brother who kept spiriting you away like some hedonistic pied piper. 

It was the day before the employees arrived and you and Benedict were making the most out of your time together by indulging in every pleasure. It was something you had been working on perfecting, timing your dosage of the powder with your climb to orgasm so that both of the highs he offered hit you simultaneously. It was damn close this time, the weightless calm of the tea flooding in just moments before you felt the first flutters of ascent. You gripped into Benedict’s hair and pulled him closer against your body. He responded with a moan and sped up the fingers that were rocking inside you.

Then someone called both your names. It was Anthony. He was looking for you. You knew the door was locked but in that moment you wouldn’t have cared if it wasn’t. Soaring on the tea and the rising wave of release, all you could focus on was reaching your pinnacle. Breathing hard, you tugged at Benedict’s dark locks and began to grind against his tongue, building friction as he sucked your clit hard and wantonly. 

Each of your names was shouted again, growing closer, more agitated. You were nearly there…

You panted to keep yourself from squealing and with a final swirl of his tongue, Benedict brought you over the edge. You rasped his name at the same moment Anthony barked it which caused him to laugh, releasing you from his mouth but keeping his hand in place as you writhed.

“Coming!” He called as you clenched around his fingers. You couldn’t even acknowledge his cheek. You were too numb, your entire body tingling as euphoria muted out the world. But then he was pulling you to stand, the two of you laughing as you straightened each other’s hair and somehow you wandered to the foyer below where Anthony was waiting. The powder had the strange effect of making time slow but also leaving you unable to remember one moment to the next. It rooted you firmly in the present with every sense notched to ten.

“Anthony?” You smiled and tried your best to sound sober. “What do you need?”

“Ah, there you are. What have you been up to?” He raised a curious eyebrow but when Benedict burst into a fit of giggles it lowered into a glare. “Actually…don’t answer that. I need to ask you, is the agenda finalized for the weekend?”

You could feel the stress pouring off of him though it was a foreign concept to you in your current state. “Yes, the coordinators have it.”

“Alright. And we’re good to announce the rollout of the new branding for the charity hospital?”

“Yes, it’s all taken care of.” Despite your current immature behavior, you really had completed all your tasks and were happy to report as much. As you watched the tension easing out of Anthony’s stance, you felt arms wrap around you from behind and the warm breath of someone nuzzling into your neck.

“Benedict, do you mind?!” Anthony growled. “Can we have one minute of peace to discuss some business?”

You bit your tongue to keep from bursting into laughter as Benedict pulled away, hands raised in defeat.

“Sorry, sorry.”  

You turned to see him saunter over to a flower arrangement and begin stroking the petals.

Anthony’s eyes rolled so hard you swore you could hear them. “And the uh…the hampers. For the picnic.”

You nodded. The weekend was going to kick off with a relaxed reception. Each guest being gifted a hamper of local treats to sprawl with on the grounds as they settled in. “Daphne and your mother are putting them together in the back garden. I can go and check on them now.”

He sighed in relief. “Thank you. You’ve taken care of everything.”

“I always do.”

He matched your grin and you basked in the warmth of his favor. Then Benedict suddenly appeared beside him and booped him on the nose with an orange daisy, sound effect and all. The two of you couldn’t contain your hysterics as the viscount clenched his jaw and stormed off to escape you.

You were slightly more apprehensive about hiding your condition from Benedict’s mother and sister but thanks to his antics you hardly needed to. You found them both in the kitchen garden, hampers arrayed before them as they inspected the contents. Benedict swooped in, gave each a kiss on the cheek, complimented how Daphne was tying bunches of Clyvedon lavender to the handles, slipped a hamper onto his arm ‘for a test run’ and pulled you away. It was not what you had intended by checking on their progress but you were so giddy you didn’t protest. As you scampered along the back of the house where staff were bustling with deliveries and laundry, he pilfered a quilt that had been hung to dry with other linens. 

Then you were out on the grounds and far from any onlookers, weaving your way around out buildings and trees, taking a familiar route that made your destination obvious. But the effects of the powder lent the well-worn path a new magic. Your journey seemed to take a day, you and Benedict both falling into a slow, wandering gait with your eyes casting about at the nature that surrounded you. He would sling an arm across your shoulders and marvel as he pointed out dragonflies and rabbits through the sun-dappled shadows. You felt like Alice, swirling in a strange and beautiful wonderland.

Then you reached the field, overgrown and verdant, the grass rippling with the warm breeze. There were no dandelions to be found, not only because the season had passed but because the Bridgertons had actually taken your suggestion and harvested the blooms to try their hand at wine making. Benedict had insisted on it that day when you shared your first kiss and the product of the first harvest was tucked into the hampers for everyone to sample.

You spread the quilt and began to rifle through your spoils like a couple of wily scavengers. Inside you found the bottle of wine bearing the label you designed, a jar of honey, a wedge of cheese, a small bit of bread and fruit from the orangery among other little delights. You loosened the bunch of lavender and breathed deep, feeling its calm sweetness waft over you. You began to twist at the stems, an old hobby from childhood, and within minutes had fashioned a fragrant crown.

You popped it onto Benedict’s head with a giggle. “I hereby proclaim you Lord of Summer.” He rolled his eyes but left it on, too distracted by the food. 

You began to sample everything on offer. The scents were mouthwatering, the colors overwhelming. Benedict promptly began eating the honey with his hands. When he caught you watching him he held a sticky finger to your lips and moaned as you sucked it clean, never breaking eye contact. It tasted like sunshine. 

There was a small knife in the hamper and you attempted to slice the cheese but with half your mind floating somewhere else altogether, you slipped and cut your finger instead. You hissed as you held it aloft, watching a crimson drop swell on your fingertip, captivated by the way it sparkled in the light. Benedict lightly took your wrist, equally mesmerized.

“This passed through your heart,” he murmured. “And you live in mine.” Then with the gentlest swipe of his tongue he lathed your wound and sealed it with a soft kiss. The act felt so profound, so intimate, that you could feel your heart tugging to get closer to him. Within seconds your tongues were entwined, as were your limbs, and you both shed your clothing until you could feel the heat of the sun on every inch of your skin. 

You rolled to straddle him, never failing to marvel at the planes of his toned body. You found him aggravatingly attractive when sober and now with the heady haze of the powder he seemed like the male ideal; Adam waiting for you in the Eden of the field, a perfected creature born and bred in flowers. Planting your hands on his chest you lowered onto him, both of you groaning in ecstasy, and then began to move. You were somehow drowning in the sensations of your body and floating high above them simultaneously. It was almost as if you could picture yourselves from a distance, the two of you entirely nude, clothed in nothing but sunlight and writhing rhythmically against one another. Surrounded by nature and the dusky perfume of lavender it felt primal, pagan, an ancestral ritual you were reviving. Benedict trailed his hands up to cup your breasts, watching you, enthralled as you rode him. 

As always with this elixir time seemed to bend, leaving you no measure for how long you chased pleasure together. All you knew was that you reached a crescendo when pixelated rainbows burst behind your eyelids. Your heart felt as rapid as a hummingbird’s and was joined by the throb of Benedict between your hips, pulsing something electric into your every nerve. You both panted and laughed, content to stay joined together.

“Marry me.” Benedict looked up at you with eager eyes, all smiles beneath his lavender crown. 

You paused. “Ben…you need to stop asking me that.” 

His request didn’t bowl you over because it was the third time you had heard it. The first was far too early in your relationship to take seriously. The second had been what he requested as a gift for his most recent birthday and you were convinced he was joking. But now it seemed he wouldn’t relent.

“You need to give me a straight answer.” He frowned.

“It’s not fair when we’re high and you’re inside me.” 

Benedict smirked, running his thumbs gently over your hipbones. “An altered man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts. I want your honest answer.”

Your heart thudded double time. You knew your honest answer. You had known it from your first kiss. But there was always some anxiety that stopped you from speaking freely, some logical argument that your brain lobbed to overrule your heart. You had wanted to wait until a respectable amount of time had passed in your relationship. You had worried what it would look like if you married into your boss’s family. Mostly you couldn’t quite allow yourself to believe you could be so lucky. 

“I honestly think your timing is terrible.” You deflected.

“The timing is perfect.” He studied you, pupils wide. “I can see your soul shimmering around you. The blues… the greens… iridescent.” He ran his fingers feather-light up the sides of your body and down your arms, tracing your outline. “It changes color when you’re laughing. When we’re making love. I want to see what color it is when you say yes.”

Your breath caught, stunned and a bit jealous that you had not received the same superpower from the tea. You didn’t know if you could see his soul but he did look ethereal, glowing like a stray stream of light. Then again, he always looked like that to you. He was sun-kissed even in the darkest of hours, possessing some innate source of joy. 

“Bit presumptuous to think I’m going to say yes.” You teased.

“Then tell me why you would say no.”

“We’re already mucking up this weekend enough as it is. If we get engaged Anthony may kill us both.”

“That’s why you don’t want to announce an engagement, not why you don’t want to marry me.”

“Ben…” you breathed, knowing he had you cornered. 

He continued. “Because if the rest of my life could be like the last two years, I know it will be a good one. I love everything we do together. I love picking you up from work. I love reading next to you and feeding you and fucking you and buying you toothpaste and painting you and cherishing you.”

He laced his hands with yours and held them tight to his chest, speaking softly. “I was born to love you and I want to die that way. That’s why I want to marry you. Why don’t you want to marry me?”

Tears pricked at your eyes as love and excitement swelled within you. If this had all been a ploy to make you emotional and vulnerable to his advances, it had worked. But you couldn’t be mad at him. Perhaps he had understood exactly what you needed to overcome your defenses. You couldn’t think of any reasons to resist anymore but still knew you couldn’t topple the plans for the weekend.

“Ask me again on Monday.”

His pale eyes sparkled as a crooked grin overtook his features. “Is that a yes?”

You beamed, nodding, praying that you weren’t hallucinating. Benedict gasped, gazing up at you in awe.

“Purple,” he whispered. “It’s purple. Lavender.” Then he lifted the crown from his head and reverently placed it on yours.

The two of you stayed in the field for the rest of the day, lounging half-clothed in each other’s arms and watching the clouds float by until the sky grew ombre and the grass grew dewy. You polished off the picnic and opened the wine as you descended back to earth. It was sweet with a kiss of grassy bitterness. Exactly as you remembered from childhood. A resounding success. A memento of your first fateful meeting in the field returning to celebrate this one. 

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky

[spooky-circuits]

can we get the rock trolls reaction to a bunch of kids randomly appeared ?

Princess Barb is on the outskirts of Rock territory throwing rocks at trees to blow off steam after her dad made another comment about maybe trying to make more friends. She already has tons of friends just because they don’t hang out a lot doesn’t mean anything their schedules just don’t line up very well most days! She throws another rock even harder and misses the tree she was aiming for and groans before hearing an “Ow! What the hell Creek!” And “Oh what slight are you accusing me of this time Branch?” Well that’s unexpected. What would other trolls be doing out here when there’s a concert coming up soon. She leans to the side to try and see who she accidentally hit with the rock. Theres the sounds of two trolls grappling on the ground (It happens sometimes when a show gets too rowdy) and she feels like that’s probably her fault. “Hey sorry about that bro! I didn’t realize anyone was out here!”

Creek is in the middle of his yoga routine when Branch suddenly cries out in pain and starts yelling at him like he had something to do with it. “Look Branch I don’t think it’s reasonable to try and hold me responsible every time you stub your toe.” Branch still looking ticked off if about to retort when they both hear a voice from the tree line say “Sorry about that Bro! I didn’t realize anyone was out here!” And they both look at each other confused before Branch realizes what had actually happened. He mumbles a quiet sorry before responding to the voice and shouting in his ear in the process. “Uh thats alright?” They both start walking towards to voice so they can see who they’re yelling at.

Barb is still staring at the forest when a grey troll around her age enters her line of sight shortly followed by a purple troll with a glittery face? What the hell? “Is that a pop troll man? You know they give you ear worms don’t you?” (It’s a rock troll saying for getting a song stuck in your head)

Creek immediately gives an offended gasp while Branch is confused because this girl seems to be grey but not really because her hair is bright red and seems to have mistaken him for whatever genre she seems to be. He should probably explain the situation but theres a good opportunity to get a jab in at Creek here so he just responds. “Don’t worry his songs aren’t quite good enough for that.” Which just prompts an offended “Rude!” From Creek which is a win for him. “Anyway I’m Branch and this is Creek who are you.”

Barb is even more confused now how doesn’t this kid know who she is? The pop troll she could see but a rock troll should know who she is. “Are you serious bro? I’m Barb you know? Princess Barb?” The other trolls look at each other in surprise she guesses that maybe this kid isn’t a rock troll? Weird but her dad did once tell her stories about trolls who got so sad they lost their colours. She never thought she’d see something like that in person though. Especially not from a pop troll who knew they could even get sad? Weird. She snaps back to the conversation when she hears them start talking to each other. She catches bits of what they’re saying mainly things like “Poppy is definitely going to want to meet her.” “She seems nice enough might as well introduce them.” “We barely know her!” “Stop being paranoid Branch you know Poppy will find out soon enough anyway she’ll be back soon and notice we aren’t at camp.” Literally what the hell are these guys talking about? “Hey could you not talk about me like I’m not here man? It’s not cool!”

[gloryofroses19]

FaceTime Follies

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x girlfriend!reader

If being in the Navy had taught Lieutenant Bradley Bradhsaw anything, it’s that waking up early is a pain. Despite a full 8 hours of sleep, because what else is he supposed to do stuck on a naval ship in the middle of the Pacific, Bradley nursed a warm cup of coffee as he prepared.

Grabbing his watch from his nightstand, Bradley moved himself in front of the small, mounted mirror. With motoric precision, Bradley ran a handful of pomade through his hair and the remnants over his mustache. With the final adjustment to the well-worn white t-shirt that adorned his body, he unlocked his phone and hit the contact titled “Chicken ❤️”. 

Rooster smiled to himself as he waited for her to pick up, recalling the fateful date that had him changing her contact to match his callsign. But his reminiscing was cut short as her image filled his iPhone screen. 

“Well hello sailor!”

Chucking to himself, Bradley moved to correct her. “Dalin’, I’m a pilot.” 

“In the Navy!” [y/n] responded in a matter-of-fact tone. “Also ‘well hello pilot’, just doesn’t have as nice of a ring to it.” 

“True but it is more accurate.” Pausing to enjoy the giggle that followed, Rooster continued. “Anyway, good morning pretty girl, how was your day?” And Bradley Bradshaw meant every word of the term of endearment. Despite the late night hour in San Diego, she looked as beautiful as ever freshly showered with wet hair and outfitted in a gray hoodie. 

“Oh so it’s morning where you are…” Moving out of frame for a fraction of a second, Rooster was met with the sight of his girlfriend returning with her iPad. “If you'd just excuse me while I look up places in the Pacific where it’s currently 4:14AM.”

“How do you know it’s 4:14AM?” 

[y/n] often joked to her friends that despite his callsign, Rooster reminded her of a golden retriever. Especially now with his head tilted to the side in confusion. “The clock behind you, Bradshaw.”  

“Hey Sherlock, cool it or I’m going to lose my phone privileges when you figure out classified information.” 

“You’re right, ending up in jail on espionage charges does sound terrible doesn’t it?” 

“Who cares about the espionage charges? The bigger problem would be the week and half we’d not be able to talk to each other!” 

If dating a Top Gun aviator taught her anything, it was to accept the small miracles that happen everyday. Like for example, her boyfriend looking ruggedly handsome and healthy despite the poor lighting and spotty internet connection. [y/n] bit her lip as she watched him adjust his t-shirt across his broad chest and wished so desperately that she was cuddled up against him.  

“I had a dream last night and it got me thinking, did I leave my light blue Hawaiian shirt at your place?” 

“You’ve got a bunch that could be described like that, Rooster. I'm going to need some more specifics.” 

“So bossy…” Rooster joked knowing that if they’d have been together, she would have poked him. “The light blue with little scenes of a guy surfing and palm trees. Oh, and there’s turtles!”

“Oh, that one! Yes, you did. It’s sitting freshly cleaned and ironed in my closet awaiting your return.”

“Thanks, baby.” 

“Of course, but I have to ask. Do you normally dream about your wardrobe? Don’t get me wrong, kudos for rocking the Hawaiian shirts before they came back in style but you’ve been gone for two weeks so dreaming about it seems like a serious commitment.” 

“Ha ha very fun.” He grinned at her, before shyly moving his gaze off screen. “It belonged to my dad, it actually was the last shirt he wore before his final flight.” 

Being with Bradley had taught [y/n] when to push for more information and when to accept what is being given to her. “Oh, well like I said it’s waiting for you.” 

“I’m in no rush, I know it’s in good hands.” Bradley paused, looking at her through the screen and wishing that his career didn’t take him away from the person he loved most in this world. When he lost his parents and Maverick betrayed him, Rooster thought he could never trust, let alone love someone wholeheartedly. The heartbreak was too much for him…or so he thought until he met [y/n].  

A knock on his door followed by a low murmur of conversation drew Rooster’s attention and body away from the phone. [y/n] accepted the gift being given to her and shamelessly observed her boyfriend’s profile. However, the wording on Bradley’s shirt caught her attention. 

“Sorry baby, we got 5 minutes left. I should have called earlier.” Returning to his phone, Bradley did not miss the Chesire grin that his girlfriend was sporting. 

“It’s okay, you should get as much sleep as you can.” With a mischievous gleam in her eyes, Rooster excitedly braced for whatever was to come. “But I do have a question of my own. Nice university shirt, remind me when exactly did you attend?” 

“I’m sorry but where’s the question?” Rooster asked in an attempt to stall for time. He never intended to take [y/n]’s old, oversized college t-shirt. He just had seen it sitting atop her pile of clean laundry and thought of the night she first told him she loved him while wearing it as they sat on his apartment floor looking at pictures of his parents at 12AM. 

“The question is that you're a thief Bradley Bradhsaw! I wonder how the Navy would feel knowing that one of their star pilots is a robber!” But the effectiveness of her statement decreased as her phone began to tumble. Bradley began to laugh as he heard her curse and scramble to catch her phone. Her rush, however, allowed Rooster to catch sight of the words adorning her sweatshirt. “Oh and when exactly did you attend Top Gun Academy [full name]?” 

With an exaggerated gasp, [y/n] threw her hands over the front of his sweatshirt before joining Bradley in laughing. “God, we’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly in love, baby girl.” Bradley corrected her. He knew he idolized his parents' relationship despite his limited memory of them together. He also knew that memory was fickle and biased. But he had never heard anyone deny that Goose Bradshaw loved his wife with every ounce of his being. How Goose felt like the luckiest man in the world to be able to have his wife by his side who loved him. And the way Bradley Bradshaw felt when [full name] looked at him, even through a phone, struck him that maybe all his memories and people’s stories about his parents were right. 

“And I wouldn’t want it any other way.” [y/n] confirmed. As if on cue, Rooster’s alarm sounded informing the pair that their time was up. 

“I love you, be safe.” 

“I’ll try my best, ma’am. I love you.”

A/N: Thank you to everyone for reading! As always, I'd love any feedback!