#thank you for the thrill ride all these months

[gallawitchxx]

M8TE — a modern a/b/o au

M8TE is the premiere app for unmated alphas and omegas. Just enter your location and the dates of your rut or heat cycle, and you’ll be instantly paired with up to 3 potential matches in your area. Who you choose is up to you! Just be sure to tick the appropriate boxes on your profile to signal if you’re looking for a mate or a one-time thing.

M8TE. What are you waiting for?

a part of day 2 of gallavich week 2022, hosted by @gallavichthings . based on a prompt by @ianandmickeygallavich with brilliant beta work by @thisdivorce ☎️🖤

- - - - -

chapter nine: MATE

rating: e

word count: 5.8k / 54k total [COMPLETED]

chapter summary: ian & mickey make the ultimate decision regarding the future of their relationship.

additional tags: au-modern with a/b/o dynamics, omega mickey milkovich, alpha ian gallagher, online dating, angst with a happy ending, internalized omegaphobia, panic attacks with some thoughts of self-harm, gratuitous smut, come swallowing, knotting, mild blood, bipolar disorder

[ read HERE on ao3 ]

ps! if you're interested in learning more about the possibilities of omegaverse, my process writing M8TE & recommendations for other gallavich a/b/o stories, check out episode 2 of @mayo-in-the-morning, which graciously had me on as their first-ever guest. & of course, check out M8TE's official playlist, curated by the goblin king himself, @creepkinginc 🖤

[charliemwrites]

Mafia!Price warm up because I am… so tired. I’ve had back-to-back events the last few days and ya bitch canNOT hang. So, while I rehydrate and wait for caffeine to work it’s magic, here’s this:

Part 1 here

No Content Warnings

Mr. Price is the best boss you’ve ever had. He’s straightforward and blunt, but unfalteringly courteous. Likes things a certain way — his own way — but that’s nothing you’re unfamiliar with from rich men responsible for billions. At very least, he seems to respect when you challenge him.

“We’ve always done records this way,” he says.

“Yes, sir,” you answer serenely, “but that was before you had me.”

He stares you down and you beam right back, tablet balanced on your forearm. One beat, two. In the corner of your eye, you see Gaz shift. You tilt your head at your boss.

He sits back in his big office chair, thumb swiping over his index and middle fingers. A gesture you’ve been mentally cataloguing as “contemplative” — perhaps deciding if he’s annoyed or amused. You don’t let yourself get nervous seeing it; you’re good at your job and you know it. He’s going to know it too, by god.

“And what do you have to do with it, luv?”

Your smile stretches wider as you take that as an invitation to round his desk. He turns and shifts a bit to make room for you, eyebrows ticking up as you set a neatly paper-clipped report in front of him, highlighted for convenience.

“See here?” You point at one section, a list of finance records. “Inconsistencies that the accountants took two months to notice. Two!”

He grunts as you set it aside, face up, for further perusal and then show him the next set. Different highlighter (and a smiley face in the corner).

“And look here, doing it this way, we noticed the discrepancies within a week,” you explain.

He picks up the page, eyes scanning over it thoroughly before setting it down. Taps his index finger over the discrepancy (circled in bright red) twice.

“Would you happen to have the account — ah, thank you.”

You hum, smoothing the sticky note (hot pink, shaped like a heart) onto the page. “So what do you think, sir?”

He runs a hand down his face, palm rasping over his beard. But there is a grateful note to his gaze as he glances at you.

“We’ll be doing it this way from now on, then.”

“Thrilling, sir. I’ll send out a memo.”

He waves you off, frown already forming on his face. You politely leave his office, stop by the break room to make a fresh cup of tea (a dollop of cream only, no sugar) and knock on the closed door. It’s Gaz that opens it.

“For the boss,” you say. “Before heads start rolling.”

“You’re a doll,” he breathes, accepting the cup and slipping back inside.

You happily toddle back to your desk and begin calling appointment confirmations. You’ve got about a million emails and a hundred calls to make.

—

Working for Price also comes with some… eccentricities. For one, you have a driver now.

Usually Farah, sometimes her partner Alex. On the rare occasion it’s Gaz. They always usher you into the backseat. On rainy days (so, most days in the UK) they hold an umbrella over your head while you scurry into the luxury leather interior of whatever stupidly expensive ride you’re taking.

That was a non-negotiable when you and Mr. Price discussed the details of your employment contract with him. Something about safety…? You feel silly being driven to work as an assistant, but it was your first encounter with the Steel Gaze of Decision and it was unfortunately effective.

Not that you mind the rides! All three of your usual drivers are wonderful. So friendly and chatty. You love hearing about Alex’s niece and Farah’s hobbies, Gaz’s little “spats” with Soap. You spoil them with extra treats from whatever bakery you make them stop at for morning breakfast. (Always local, you love supporting small businesses and strong arm Price into doing so as well).

There’s the gun as well. You’ve only seen it once or twice, always discreetly hidden under his suit jacket. A shoulder holster, all black. Pretend that you don’t see it because… well, you’re not entirely sure it’s legal and you’d rather live in the blissful cloud of plausible deniability.

And speaking of — there’s his bodyguard. To be fair, bodyguards aren’t a new or weird presence with your bosses. Expensive men, they need protection. Ghost is a different kind though.

He always covers the lower half of his face — actually, he’s covered head to toe. Usually in black, sometimes with little skeleton or skull motifs. And he’s fucking big, which is saying something because Mr. Price isn’t a small man either.

Ghost hardly interacts with you, but he’s unfailingly polite when he does. Not talkative, but he holds doors for you, has walked you down to the car. Even once attitude-checked a guest that decided to be rude to you. Didn’t even say anything, just walked into the guy’s personal bubble and stared him down until he subsided. Then he turned, gave you a nod, and you squeezed his arm before toddling off to let Price know his appointment had arrived.

All around the vibes in the office are pleasant, if sometimes stuffy. A little odd. All of his employees are polite if not kind to you, and Price himself is a fair and reasonable man — at least with you.

(The first time you heard him raise his voice through the closed office door nearly scared the daylights out of you. He always uses a low, even tone when speaking to you, so to hear his voice booming like that was something of a shock. Even more shocking was when he opened the door — damn near throwing his “guest” out — before turning to you.

“Call Farah when you have a mo’, would you?” He asked, calm as you please.

You blinked, still having war flashbacks of your last boss. “Yes, sir.”

“Cheers, luv.”)

There’s also the “field trips” as you call them.

Mr. Price is something of a very “hands on” businessman (“micromanager” you tease when he’s in a good mood) who has a hand in several industries. One of them is shipping. Which means that sometimes you find yourself standing beside him in warehouses or at loading docks. And of course you have to go, you’re his assistant! You take meeting notes, provide information or report details. Basically act as his second brain while he reams out idiots or organizes plans.

You suck it up, but you rather hate the smell of low tide. And the occasional gusts of blood on the sea breeze from fishermen gutting their catches. Price catches you looking ill once or twice and at least makes an effort to keep things short after that.

“Poor thing,” Soap teases when you’re in the back of the car, fussing at your wind-swept hair. “Get a bit blown, did you?”

“MacTavish,” Price snaps.

That’s the other thing. Even the slightest hint of suggestive or inappropriate words at your expense are met with firm, almost harsh, reprimand from your boss. It does wonders for you nerves and your respect for him.

“Wish I’d known we were going to the docks,” you sigh, carefully picking at pins to fix your hair. “I would have used more hairspray.”

“Thought I told you?” Price says.

“No, sir, you did not,” you answer, long-suffering. “You know you can put it into the scheduling app, right?”

He blinks. “Scheduling app.”

You blink back at him. “Oh, dear. Here, look at this.”

You spend the entire ride back to the office showing him how your scheduling software works so that you don’t have to deal with any more surprise dock visits.

Previous | Next

Masterlist

[its-avalon-08]

kiss and tell (cs55)

(in honor of our fav smooth operator's birthday!!)

✦ pairing - carlos sainz x female!reader

✦ genre - friends with benefits, jealousy, comfort

It all started in Singapore. The city was electric that night, the lights from the Marina Bay Street Circuit casting a mesmerizing glow over the entire island. The race had been grueling, one of the most challenging of the season, but Carlos Sainz had come out on top, crossing the finish line first and claiming victory. The celebration that followed was nothing short of euphoric.

The entire paddock was buzzing with excitement as the night unfolded, but amidst all the chaos, Carlos only had eyes for one person—Y/N. She had been a part of the McLaren team for a while now, working closely with the drivers and crew, and over time, a comfortable camaraderie had developed between her and Carlos. There was always something more beneath the surface, though, an undercurrent of tension that neither of them dared to acknowledge.

But tonight, things felt different. The champagne was flowing, the atmosphere was light, and the barriers they usually kept firmly in place were starting to crumble.

Later that night, after the podium celebrations, the party had spilled over into one of the swanky hotels overlooking the Marina Bay. The drivers were mingling, the music was loud, and the drinks were even stronger. Y/N found herself at the bar, nursing a cocktail when Carlos approached, still riding the high of his win.

“Not gonna lie,” Carlos said, leaning against the bar with that trademark smirk of his, “seeing you out there cheering for me was the best part of the race.”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes playfully. “Oh, sure, it wasn’t the adrenaline rush of winning or the thrill of outmaneuvering the other drivers? Just me?”

“Absolutely just you,” Carlos teased, his voice dropping to a low, flirtatious tone. “You looked good today, Y/N. Real good.”

She raised an eyebrow, feeling the familiar warmth that always crept up when Carlos started flirting. “Careful, Sainz, someone might think you’re trying to get me into trouble.”

Carlos chuckled, taking a sip of his drink as he studied her. “Trouble? Who, me? I’m as innocent as they come.”

“Right,” Y/N replied with a grin. “Innocent like you didn’t just race at breakneck speeds through the streets of Singapore.”

“Innocent until proven guilty,” Carlos shot back, his eyes locking onto hers, the playful banter doing little to hide the tension building between them.

They spent the next hour trading flirty remarks, each one drawing them closer until the space between them was almost nonexistent. The noise of the party faded into the background, leaving just the two of them standing at the bar, caught up in a moment that felt like it had been building for months.

Finally, Carlos leaned in, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You know, I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you for cheering me on today.”

Y/N tilted her head, her heart racing at his proximity. “Oh? And how do you plan on doing that?”

Carlos’s lips curled into a slow, seductive smile. “I have a few ideas. But I think we’d need a little more privacy.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she met his gaze, the unspoken invitation hanging between them. She knew what he was suggesting, and she also knew she wanted it just as much. They had danced around this for too long—why not see where it led?

Without breaking eye contact, she downed the rest of her drink and set the glass on the bar. “Lead the way, Sainz.”

Carlos didn’t need any more encouragement. He took her hand, the heat of his touch sending a shiver down her spine, and led her through the crowd, away from the noise and the people. The tension was palpable, an electric current running between them as they made their way to the elevators.

When the doors slid shut, sealing them inside, the air became even thicker with anticipation. Carlos leaned against the wall, his eyes dark with desire as he looked at her. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice rougher than usual.

Y/N stepped closer, the proximity making her pulse race. “I think we’ve both wanted this for a while, don’t you?”

Carlos nodded, his hand brushing against her arm, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. “Yeah, I have. But let’s keep it simple, okay? No strings, just…us, enjoying the moment.”

She hesitated for a split second, knowing that agreeing to this meant putting aside any hope for something more. But tonight, with Carlos looking at her like that, she was willing to take the risk. “No strings,” she agreed softly.

The elevator dinged as it reached their floor, and Carlos wasted no time in pulling her out, his hand gripping hers tightly as they walked down the hallway to his room. The tension was almost unbearable by the time they reached the door. Carlos fumbled with the keycard, his usual steady hands slightly shaky with anticipation.

Once they were inside, the door barely clicked shut before Carlos had her pressed against it, his lips crashing onto hers with a hunger that left her breathless. The kiss was everything she had imagined—hot, desperate, and filled with months of pent-up tension.

Carlos’s hands roamed her body, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. Y/N responded in kind, her fingers tangling in his hair as she kissed him back with equal fervor. The world outside disappeared, leaving only the two of them in a whirlwind of passion.

When they finally broke apart, gasping for breath, Carlos rested his forehead against hers, his voice rough with desire. “God, Y/N…this is exactly what I needed tonight.”

Y/N smiled, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, “I’m not going anywhere, Sainz.”

That night was the beginning of everything—and nothing. They had agreed it would be no strings attached, just something casual between two people who enjoyed each other’s company. But as the weeks went on, and the nights like this one became more frequent, it was clear that the feelings they had been trying to keep at bay were only growing stronger.

But Carlos was determined to keep things light, not wanting to ruin what they had with complications. He told himself over and over that this was enough, that he didn’t need more. But damn, he thought as he watched Y/N fall asleep beside him, her face peaceful and content, I’m in trouble. Because I think I’m falling for her.

And that was the one thing he was truly afraid of.

time skip

The days leading up to that night had been a rollercoaster of emotions for Y/N. Carlos had a habit of making offhand comments about relationships that cut deeper than she’d ever admit. They were subtle, sometimes even playful, but each one was like a small dagger to her heart.

It was just a few days ago when they were sitting in the McLaren hospitality area, surrounded by the usual crowd of drivers and team members. Daniel Ricciardo had been teasing Carlos about settling down, something about how the Spanish driver was getting too old to be a bachelor forever.

"So, Carlos," Daniel started, a mischievous grin on his face, "when are you going to finally settle down and stop breaking hearts left and right?"

Carlos chuckled, leaning back in his chair with an easy smile. "Settle down? Nah, mate, I’m not ready for all that. Relationships are too complicated. I’m enjoying life as it is."

Y/N, who was sitting across from him, felt her heart drop at his words. She masked it with a forced smile, pretending to focus on her coffee. Of course he isn’t ready, she thought, Why would he be? But underneath the casual demeanor, it hurt more than she could admit.

Carlos glanced at her, his smile faltering slightly when he noticed the way her eyes had dimmed. Fuck , Carlos, he thought to himself. Why do you keep saying this stuff? He hated seeing that look on her face, the one she tried so hard to hide.

But then, he did what he always did. He pushed those thoughts away, shoving his feelings deep down where they couldn’t betray him. It’s better this way. She deserves someone who can give her everything, not someone who’s constantly on the move, constantly putting himself first.

Yet, when he was alone, away from the noise of the paddock and the constant demands of racing, his thoughts always circled back to her. He would picture her smile, the way she laughed at his jokes, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about something she was passionate about. It made his chest ache in a way that was both painful and comforting. God, I love her. I’m so damn scared of how much I love her.

It wasn’t just the teasing from the other drivers, either. There were moments in between—when they were alone, when the world was quiet, and it was just the two of them. Like the time when they were sitting in the team garage late one night after everyone else had left. She was leaning against him, her head resting on his shoulder, and the silence between them was warm, comfortable.

Y/N had looked up at him then, her voice soft and filled with an emotion that made his heart race. "Do you ever think about the future, Carlos? About…what you want?"

He had stiffened slightly, the question pulling him out of the comfort of the moment. He knew what she was really asking, and it terrified him.

Carlos hesitated before responding, forcing a lightness into his voice that he didn’t feel. "I don’t think too far ahead. I’m just taking things as they come, you know? No need to complicate things."

He felt her deflate beside him, her silence saying more than words ever could. It was in moments like these that Carlos hated himself the most. Why can’t I just tell her? he thought, his mind screaming at him to say something, anything, to ease the hurt he knew he was causing. But instead, he just sat there, pretending everything was fine. She deserves better. I can’t give her what she needs. It’s safer this way.

But it wasn’t safer. Not for him, not for her. Every time he said something like that, he felt the distance between them grow a little wider, the connection that had always been so natural starting to strain under the weight of unspoken words and buried feelings.

They were friends with benefits, nothing more. At least, that's what they told themselves. Y/N knew she was in too deep; her feelings for Carlos ran far deeper than casual. But every time she tried to bring it up, Carlos would brush her off with a charming smile and a playful comment about how he wasn't ready for anything serious.

As the night progressed, someone suggested a game of spin the bottle. The group erupted in cheers and groans, the perfect mix of nerves and excitement. The bottle spun, pointing first to Y/N who blushed, much to everyone's amusement.

Then it was Y/N's turn. The bottle spun, clinking against the floor as it finally slowed down, the neck pointing directly at Lando. The room erupted in playful cheers and wolf whistles, while Carlos froze, his smile faltering just for a second.

Y/N glanced at Carlos, her heart skipping a beat, but he had already turned his attention away, a coldness settling into his features. She could see his jaw clenching, the muscle ticking angrily, but he said nothing.

Lando leaned in with his usual cheeky grin. "Guess it's us then," he said, his tone light and playful, trying to make the situation as un-awkward as possible.

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding, but not for the reason everyone thought. As Lando's lips met hers, what was supposed to be a simple, friendly kiss quickly shifted. Lando, sensing the tension in the room, deepened the kiss, his hand slipping to the back of Y/N's neck, pulling her closer.

The room fell silent, the air thick with a sudden intensity. Lando's kiss was anything but innocent—it was slow, deliberate, and filled with a surprising passion. Y/N's hands instinctively moved to his chest, gripping his shirt as she found herself kissing him back with equal fervor. She could feel Lando's heartbeat beneath her fingertips, the heat of his body against hers.

(a little carlos pov)

As Lando leaned in for the kiss, Carlos’s internal monologue went into overdrive. Don’t do it, don’t kiss her like that, don’t touch her like that. She’s mine, for fucks sake! Why can’t you see that?

He watched as Y/N responded to Lando’s kiss, her hands on Lando’s chest, their bodies too close for his liking. That should be me. I should be the one holding her like that, kissing her like that. But I’m the one who keeps pushing her away. This is my fault. I’m going to lose her, and it’s my own fucking fault.

The kiss went on longer than it should have, and with each passing second, Carlos felt his control slipping. His heart pounded in his chest, anger and jealousy swirling together until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. I love you, Y/N. I love you so much it’s tearing me apart. But I’m too scared to say it, and now I’m losing you.

(out of carlos pov)

Carlos watched, every muscle in his body tensing, his breath catching in his throat. He tried to look away, but he couldn't. The kiss was more than just a game now—it was a reminder of everything he was too afraid to claim.

When Y/N finally pulled away, her cheeks were flushed, her breath unsteady. Lando kept his hand on the back of her neck for a moment longer, his thumb brushing against her skin as he gave her a small, knowing smile. "Well, that was something," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine, but it wasn’t from Lando's touch. It was from the cold, icy glare she felt burning into her from across the room. She turned to Carlos, who was no longer just silent—he was seething. His eyes were dark, filled with a mix of anger and something else, something deeper.

Carlos pushed his chair back abruptly, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. The room fell silent, all eyes on him. He stood up, his expression cold and unreadable. "I'm going outside for some air," he muttered, storming out without another word.

Y/N felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach. She excused herself from the group, ignoring the curious glances, and followed Carlos outside. The night air was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth inside. Carlos was leaning against the side of the motorhome, his back to her, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Carlos," she called softly, but he didn’t turn around.

She moved closer, reaching out to touch his arm. "What's going on?"

Carlos finally turned to face her, his eyes blazing with an intensity that took her breath away. "What the fuck was that?" he demanded, his voice low but filled with anger.

Y/N blinked, taken aback by the sudden outburst. "It was just a game, Carlos. It didn’t mean anything."

"Didn’t mean anything?" He repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Sure didn’t look that way."

"What are you talking about?" Y/N asked, her voice rising in frustration. "You’re the one who said you weren’t ready for anything serious. You’re the one who keeps pushing me away!"

Carlos ran a hand through his hair, his expression torn between anger and something else—something deeper. "You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t hate myself for that?"

Y/N stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. "Then why, Carlos? Why do you keep doing this?"

"Because I’m scared!" Carlos exploded, the words ripping from him like a confession. "I’m scared of how much I care about you, how much I need you. I’m scared of what happens if I let myself love you and it all goes wrong!"

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. She had waited so long to hear those words, but now that she had, they were wrapped in so much pain and fear.

"I’m already in love with you, Carlos," she said softly, her voice trembling. "And it’s killing me that you don’t trust me enough to let me in."

Carlos closed his eyes, his face contorted in anguish. "I don’t want to lose you, Y/N."

"Then don’t," she whispered, stepping closer until they were inches apart. "Don’t push me away anymore. Let me love you, Carlos. You don’t have to be scared."

For a long moment, he just stood there, staring at her as if trying to decide whether to take the leap. Then, with a shaky breath, he reached out, pulling her into his arms. His lips found hers in a kiss that was anything but friendly—passionate, desperate, and filled with all the emotions he had kept bottled up for so long.

When they finally broke apart, Carlos rested his forehead against hers, his voice barely a whisper. "I love you, Y/N. I’m just…scared of how much."

She smiled through her tears, cupping his face in her hands. "Then be scared. But be with me. We’ll figure it out together."

Carlos nodded, his heart finally beginning to thaw. "Together," he repeated, sealing the promise with another kiss.

[requiemforthepoets]

underdogs dance in the middle of the night 𖦹 CL16

PAIRINGS: charles leclerc x fencer!leclerc!reader , f1 grid x fencer!leclerc!reader

SUMMARY: always being considered as an underdog, but the youngest leclerc is here to prove them wrong.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: it’s my first time doing something like this, and i apologize on my dry humor…but i hope you still enjoy this though.

REMINDER: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect to the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: typos

FACE CLAIM: maxine esteban and others on pinterest, but mostly maxine esteban.

ynleclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl and 578,982 others

ynleclerc 2022-2023 was one hell of a ride.

This past year has been a never ending whirlwind of challenges and triumphs. From the devastating ACL tear and the subsequent surgery that threatened my fencing career to the grueling recovery process that tested my limits, it has been a journey of resilience, determination, and unwavering support. After six months of rehabilitation, I am beyond thrilled to share that I have received medical clearance to return to competitive sports.

However, that’s not all. I have been keeping this secret for a while now, one that I have cherished and guarded closely, even from my family. Today, I am proud to announce that I am switching my fencing nationality from Italy to Monaco. This decision has been a deeply personal and emotional one, driven by my love to Monaco, my home, and the desire to represent Monaco on the global stage.

I owe a debt of gratitude to my former team for shaping me into the athlete I am today. Now, as I embark on this new chapter representing Monaco, I carry with me the lessons and memories that have defined my journey so far.

Je suis heureux (se) de vous annoncer mon changement de nationalité sportive, passant de l'Italie à Monaco. C'est une décision qui me remplit de fierté et d'un profond sentiment d'appartenance. Merci à tous ceux qui ont rendu cela possible et qui continuent à me soutenir dans cette nouvelle aventure 🙌🏻

I am thrilled for what lies ahead and am setting my sights on qualifying for Paris 2024. Together, let's write the next chapter of this incredible journey. Merci infiniment. 🇲🇨🤺❤️

view all 10,739 comments

pascale.leclerc.355 C'est une nouvelle très excitante, mon chéri ! Je suis impatiente de te voir aux Jeux Olympiques représentant Monaco! ❤️🇲🇨 ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc Merci maman pour ton soutien sans fin!! Je t'aime tellement!! 😭❤️

username1 OUR FAVORITE LECLERC REPRESENTING MONACO!! 🙌🏻

username2 OMG imagine if y/n won a medal in the Paris 2024, she’ll be the first one to win a medal for Monaco in the olympics!! 😭❤️

username3 charles winning the monaco gp and y/n winning the olympics 2024, imagine the POWER. prince and princess of Monaco 👏🏻

username4 MANIFESTING PARIS 2024!! 🗣️

carlossainz55 Vamos, y/n!! ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

scuderiaferrari Congratulations to our favorite Leclerc!! ❤️❤️❤️ ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

charles_leclerc I can’t believe that I’ll find out this amazing news online?! Félicitations à notre petite sœur! Je sais que tu vas faire des merveilles, tu es une formidable escrimeuse. Il n'y a aucun doute que tu te qualifieras pour Paris 2024! Nous t'aimons tellement ❤️ ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc tbf, i never told a single soul abt this, and it was really hard keeping it from you guys!!! But thank you so much, charlieee 🥺❤️ ♥︎ liked by charles_leclerc

pierregasly Secure that gold medal! ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

username5 i’m a new fan of f1 and i just found out that charles has a younger sister?!

username6 yes! she’s the youngest of the leclercs and she’s a fencer!! there’s a thread about her on the x app!!!

haterusername1 she’s gonna be losing left and right. italy is at the top of the game when it comes to fencing, this transfer is literally a bad move for her lmao can’t wait to see her lose lol

TWITTER POST

ynleclerc

liked by pascale.leclerc.355, arthur_leclerc, charles_leclerc and 465,323 others

ynleclerc new season, same dream. 🤺🇲🇨 let’s go! ❤️🔥

view all 12,838 comments

pascale.leclerc.355 Je suis tellement excitée, mon cher! Faisons honneur à nous-mêmes et à Monaco! 🇲🇨💕 ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc Merci maman, je t'aime!! ❤️

landonorris PARIS 2024 HERE WE COME!! ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc hold your horses there, norris. i have yet to win the championships 😂

landonorris already claiming and manifesting it

username7 OLYMPIAN Y/N LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO

username8 MANIFESTING SO HARD FOR THE QUALIFYING

username9 if she qualifies for Paris 2024, i’m shaving my eyebrows ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

username10 NOT Y/N LIKING THE COMMENT 😭😭😭

username9 QUEEN I- 😭😭😭

haterusername2 she’ll be demolished by the other fencing team, knowing that the monaco’s fencing team are weak. haven’t even won any medals in the olympics lol, as if she’ll be able to qualify in the Paris 2024 🤥🫠

haterusername3 totally agree! not all these people hyping her up just bc she is some famous person’s sister. tbh, her fencing is literally average.

username10 omfg shut up you boomers. bet a hundred bucks that you cant’t even do what she does LMFAO speaking as if you have fenced in your whole life.

ynleclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, landonorris and 687,943 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and scuderiaferrari

ynusername supporting my fav ferrari bros charles_leclerc & carlossainz55 before heading off to Cairo. Forza Ferrari! ❤️

view all 15,839 comments

scuderiaferrari it was such an honor to be graced by your presence, our favorite ferrari girl! ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc I had a very amazing time. thank you, ferrari! ❤️

landonorris WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME YOU’LL BE ATTENDING THE GP 😭 ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc SORRY I FORGOT TO TELL YOU OMG 😭 I’LL MAKE IT UP TO YOU NEXT TIME!!

oscarpiastri I thought you’re team papaya 😔 heart been broke too many times 💔 ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc i’m so sorry my nephew 😔💔

oscarpiastri we’re the same age 😐

ynleclerc but you’re my bro’s child 😔 btw, say hi to lily for me!! miss hanging out with her.

oscarpiastri will do 👍🏻 lilyzneimer y/n says hi and told me that she missed hanging out with you

username11 OSCAR WTF 😭😭😭

mclaren pls be in our garage next time 😔💔 ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

scuderiaferrari back off sis, she’s ours ✋🏻😐

username12 not ferrari and mclaren fighting for her in the comsec 😭

fencing_fie

liked by ynleclerc, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, and 987,745 others

tagged: ynleclerc, paris2024, olympics

fencing_fie On her way to Paris 2024, ynleclerc is inspiring the next generation in 🇲🇨

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ynleclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, lilyzneimer, and 1,673,992 others

ynusername I can’t stop crying. We did it kids.

OFFICIALLY QUALIFIED FOR THE PARIS OLYMPICS 🇲🇨🥹❤️

Qualifying for the Paris 2024 Olympics is another check in my list, and representing Monaco makes it even more special. This journey has been long. Series of heartbreaks and tears, some milestones…but whatever happens, I am happy and thankful to be where I am right now and meet such wonderful people around the world.

To my family. Maman, Lorenzo, Charles, and Arthur, thank you for never giving up on me and my dreams. For sticking with me through thick and thin, especially during the challenging times after my ACL tear and surgery, I know that I was unbearable that that time, crying 24/7 because I kept on thinking that it might be the end of my career, but your love and encouragement has been my strength. To my medical team, thank you for pushing me in getting back on my feet and giving me chance to chase my dreams once again.

Le plus beau des rêves se réalise aujourd’hui. Merci à tous pour votre soutien. Je suis prêt pour ce nouveau chapitre!

Love, y/n 🤍

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scuderiaferrari CONGRATULATIONS TO OUR FAV FERRARI GIRL!!! ❤️🔥

ynleclerc thank you, admin 🥺❤️

lilymhe i know that i might be beheaded by my own country, BUT FUCK IT LETS GO MONACO!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨 ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

username13 OMF LILY 😭😭😭

mclaren WAY TO GO Y/N!! 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

username10 how are we feeling today? better prepare your eyebrow username9

username9 already prepared and accepted that i’ll be shaving my eyebrows ✊🏻

ynleclerc tag me when you do it…JK pls don’t!! i don’t want your mom to be angry at me 😭

username9 OMSJDJEJDJWKDK

landonorris SEATED. READY. FRONT ROW. ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

username14 BOOKED MY FLIGHT TO PARIS FOR THE OLYMPICS, CANT WAIT

username15 MOTHER.

francisca.cgomes YESSSS GIRL YOU GOOOOOOOOOO 🙌🏻🔥💪🏻 ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

alexandrasaintmleux congratulations!!! we are all behind you!! 🇲🇨 ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

lilyzneimer oscar and i are ready, we will be there!!! ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

arthur_leclerc YEEEEEEEES congratulations, petite soeur! celebration is in order 😁🥳🤩 ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, georgerussell63, and 2,473,973 others

tagged: ynleclerc

charles_leclerc I can’t believe it, our petite soeur just qualified at Paris 2024!

Remember when you first picked up a fencing foil, nearly took out the living room lamp and maman getting angry 😂 all of us knew that you are destined for greatness right then and there (or at least destined to break a lot of household items). Fast forward to today, screaming your heart out in victory, making us all incredibly proud!

I’m so excited to see you compete in Paris 2024. I know you’ll do great. Congratulations, superstar! You made us all proud. Let’s get ready for Paris!

OUR BABY SISTER MADE IT TO THE OLYMPICS!

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ynleclerc YOURE MAKING ME CRY AGAIN 😭 thank you, charlie. love you!!! 🥹🫶🏻 ♥︎ liked by charles_leclerc

lewishamilton Congratulations, ynleclerc! I know you’ll do everyone and Monaco proud! 💪🏻❤️ ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc thank you so much, sir lewis!

georgerussell63 Congratulations! Carmen and I will be there in support! ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

pierregasly gold medal secured in the bag! ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

username16 PRINCE AND PRINCESS OF MONACO! 🇲🇨

username17 charles and y/n making monaco proud!! 😭❤️

username18 the moment y/n wins the olympics, prepare to be sick of me. PREPARE TO BE SICK OF ME!!!!!

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

imagining a situation where for whatever reason you absolutely need to be sat on the ghoul’s lap (like, due to lack of space/seating or something) and he gets the sick idea to bounce his knee once after you’re sat on him for a bit. y’know, trying to make it seem unintentional/like a muscle jerk or something.

but fully knowing exactly what it may do to you, and wanting to see…he’s beyond thrilled when it immediately elicits an involuntary moan😏

Close Quarters

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 2,429

Warnings: smut (18+), thigh riding, very sweaty fucking around, mild choking, slight dubcon if you squint.

Notes: Anon, you're just like me (I am also embarrassingly into knee and thigh riding)! Thank you for the excellent submission.

Apologies for the delay in getting this out! I'm so relieved to be back at home, finally, as I wasn't able to be as productive when traveling as I'd hoped. Please enjoy.

You were going to tear Cooper a new one the second the two of you got out of here.

It had been his idea, after all, to veer off the road in your latest trek to nose around this place, which hadn't seemed all that interesting to you. Your business partner had been quite unrelenting, as in all things, despite your inability to see anything of immediate value in the area; some hulking old rusty machinery you couldn't identify, train tracks partially buried in the sand. Boxes of blasting supplies, long emptied. It appeared to be an abandoned mining facility upon first glance, but was difficult to tell, as you had barely had a chance to actually look around before things had suddenly gotten crazy.

It was his fault the two of you were stuck here now.

The old man was absolutely insistent that he'd glimpsed a deathclaw (which you'd read had a special propensity towards mines and quarries, and had told him as much just the night before) just over the nearby hill; you hadn't been looking in the proper direction to confirm when he'd grabbed you by the arm and yanked you into this...storage closet? Frankly, you weren't even sure it was large enough to pass as that, more like a coat closet with a single wooden box on the floor. The two of you were crammed as physically close as possible without touching, mostly due to the great efforts you were taking to balance yourself against the wall as carefully as you could. It was incredibly claustrophobic.

It was also unbearably hot, but apparently only for you; as you cast another unamused glance at him, the third in maybe twice as many minutes, you couldn't help but notice how his only annoyance seemed to be boredom. His eyes lazily scanned back and forth between the small holes in the wall like he was watching out for mole rats. You, on the other hand, were convinced you were about five minutes away from sweating yourself to death, your knees aching worse than they did most nights after miles and miles of walking, the pain setting deep into your bones. It was making you squirmy, your thighs and quadriceps flexing and relaxing as you tried your best to hover above your companion's leg, his body crowded so close behind yours. You'd been traveling together for months now, and he was much more comfortable with you than he ever had been, but you still wanted to respect his space...

...a courtesy which he didn't always afford you.

Something about Cooper Howard that you hadn't been anticipating when you started to grow closer was just how much of a filthy tease the man was. Despite his rather rough exterior, the old cowboy could be very charming, a side of him you saw more and more as your travels went on, and, as a result, you'd developed quite the embarrassing little crush on him. An additional heat crept up the nape of your neck as you thought on it, adding to the untenable swelter around you.

Once you'd propositioned him for sex. Once! How were you supposed to know that people on the surface didn't generally approach their casual hook ups that way? He'd laughed until you thought he'd be sick, your face red as a Nuka Cola sign the entire time.

You thought that had been that, and it was all you'd needed to assume that he simply wasn't attracted to you in that way. It stung some, but whatever, life goes on. So you'd soldiered on, trying to keep your head low the next few days to avoid making him uncomfortable, desperate to not lose his companionship due to an awkward misunderstanding, but that's when the teasing began in earnest. He took very apparent glee in crowding you in, getting into your face or into your ear, murmuring in that soft tone that made you crazy and turned your cheeks pink, only to almost immediately pull away, his demeanor as if nothing had even happened.

Whether he did this because there was any real intent behind it or simply because he enjoyed embarrassing you and making you squirm, you hadn't the faintest idea. You chastised him when he did it, but ultimately you couldn't really conceal the way the attention from him still made your heart race and your panties damp. Heck, the way the ferals seemed to be able to pick up on your scent from a mile out, you wouldn't be shocked to learn he could smell when you were aroused. Just another small humiliation to throw on the pile.

The damn space was already small in total dimension, made even worse by the fact that a shelf up top cut off a lot of the total height, forcing Cooper to stoop and bend awkwardly, the desire to stay silent keeping him hunched over you for several minutes before he slowly, slowly slid down onto the box, eventually reclining somewhat, bending his neck to and fro to peek out the various rust spots and bullet holes in the metallic siding. Your Pip-Boy didn't register any nearby movement, but that didn't always inspire confidence in situations like this.

This whole thing was miserable, but being torn limb from limb by a deathclaw would be worse, so you continued your infinite wall-lean, trying hard to remain silent as you wiped the sweat from your brow for the millionth time. Behind you, he seemed to relax a little further, his knee sliding slightly along the inside of your thigh. A shiver broke up your spine.

Eventually, your trembling, aching legs fully gave out, forcing you to allow your full weight to straddle the knee that was poking out from between your knees, pressing down directly at the apex your thighs. You tried your best to rest towards one foot or the other to keep your weight off of his thigh, but his hands quickly found your hips and stilled your movement.

The pressure from sitting this way had already begun to make your slit swell, increasing in sensitivity as the time continued to pass, but it was ignorable. Then, slowly but surely, and to your absolute horror, Cooper's leg began to jiggle, the slight movement rocking you back and forth ever so slightly until your clit began to ache. Now, you'd never seen him fidget before, but you'd also never seen the man have to cram himself into a shoe box, so you gave him some mild benefit of the doubt.

But the jiggling quickly became a problem, the heat between your legs rapidly equaling the heat in the room, leaving you breathing with noticeable volume. You buried your face into your chest as best as you could to try and hide the sound of your labored huffing, but the man behind you was quick to let you know that you were failing.

"Keep it quiet, kid." he chastised you in a hushed voice, but his hands stayed glued to your hips, balancing you right back onto his thigh, shifting your weight right to where you were trying to avoid placing it. You cleared your throat as another wave of heat swam through your gut, your companion continuing to move his leg up and down as the wind and sand hissed against the walls. Increasingly, you were nervous to look at him, afraid he would call you out for deriving some sort of sick pleasure from his innocent movements, accuse you of endangering both of your lives for some fleeting sexual gratification.

However, that moment never came, only more rocking and more huffing. Eventually, you began to slip further down towards his knee, struggling to fully support your weight any longer. His thigh jerked upwards, bouncing you several inches backwards and pressing hard into your swollen bud, drawing out a high pitched yelp that made you sound like a wounded animal. If you didn't know better, you'd have thought you felt him grin against the sweaty back of your neck.

"Hush." he said, tone thinner this time, but his hands began busily working your body as he slid you up and down. Two fingers worked their way into one of your belt loops, pushing and pulling you fully; the other traced teasingly along the damp, exposed skin of your belly at your belt line, and the feeling made you moan in earnest shock.

The leather of his gloves was shockingly soft against your damp skin as he suddenly let it jump up just above your breasts, the heel of his hand brushing at your cleavage as it slipped higher and higher, firmly clasping at your throat. You were still able to breathe, since he wasn't really choking you, but the grip he maintained below your jaw meant that he basically had full control of your body, pulling you back quickly and easily until you were snug against his chest, his cracked lips brushing the sensitive shell of your ear.

"If you can't keep that mouth shut, I'll find another use for it." he whispered, continuing to tug at your belt loops and your sanity. Your throbbing pussy clenched around nothing at his dirty talk, so much realer than ever before. You knew now that his teasing came from a genuine place, at least; you could very clearly feel the shape of his hardening cock against your ass.

You were tempted to test his claim, to whine out again fully and see what he would slip into your mouth. But instead you clamped your lips between your teeth so hard that you wondered if the chapped flesh would bleed, finally giving in and letting your hips cant ever so slightly against his leg as he continued to bounce his knee, the motion becoming quite exaggerated as the minutes continued to tick by.

The idea of any looming danger outside was quickly becoming lost among the static, the pretense of accidental squirming rapidly melting away; your brain felt runny, loose, and it was difficult to you to keep a logical train of thought for long, but it did occur to you that the two of you were basically fooling around in a closet. If you'd been coherent at all, you'd have wondered how he would react towards you when this whole awful, delicious thing was over, or even how it would end, but coherence was long lost to you as you barreled towards something amazing.

"Please, I...you have to stop..." you whispered desperately, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you felt the incredibly tense muscles in your abdomen start to flutter. If he didn't know what he'd been doing, he knew now, and his leg didn't stop for a single second, not even a falter in his movements as you began unashamedly moving your hips as far back and forth as you could reach, the firm muscle of him stimulating you so perfectly. A frantic little whimper escaped your lips, which your left hand jumped to cover, your teeth sinking into your palm you danced right up to the edge, your empty cunt gripping feverishly at nothing.

"Coop. Please." you begged, but you were unsure if you were begging him to stop or to let you finish.

He granted you the latter, both hands sliding right back down to your hips, pressing your weight hard down into him as you both worked your body back and forth, once, twice, and a final time as your head fell slack against his shoulder, his lips at the side of your throat as you came completely apart in his lap, limbs twitching, teeth pulling a tear in your dry lower lip as you bit down on it hard to hide your moans. Vaguely, you were aware of the feeling of him rocking his erection against your backside, his breathing almost as heavy as yours.

"Good girl." you swore you heard him mumble, but chalked it up to your overstimulated, spinning brain simply making you hear what you wanted to hear.

For maybe a minute, you allowed yourself the indulgence of resting against him, struggling to slow your heaving breaths. Slowly, you leaned forward once more, curling yourself into a half-ball with your head as far between your knees as you could manage until you no longer felt light headed. At some point, your companion regained his composure, his tone not strained or breathy in the slightest when he spoke to you again.

"Well," he said, suddenly back at his regular volume and causing you to jump slightly, "I think we can get out of here."

You twisted back to look at him, but before you could lock eyes, he was already lifting you by your hips to force you to stand on your shaky legs, pulling himself up to a crouch as he tugged the door open. You flinched, stumbling a bit as you attempted to conceal yourself behind the wall, but you peered back out when he confidently strode out past you, bending and turning at the waist as his spine let out a series of loud cracks and pops. Behind him, you struggled to stand fully upright, attempting to fix the fit of your clothing from where it had been tugged on.

"C'mon, let's go." he called over his shoulder, not turning to look at you fully as he trekked forward towards the hill you'd spent what felt like ages fearing as if it were nothing but another pile of dirt to be crossed.

"Shouldn't we try to go the long way around outta here? What if they're still over there, just not close enough to pick up on?" you called, concerned once more now that the flow of blood had generally returned to your brain. Everywhere around you, you felt imaginary danger, ready for anything to jump out from anywhere, as nothing had actually changed the whole time you'd been hidden away.

That got him to stop and turn to look back at you, an incredibly impish look playing across his face.

"I get the feeling it'll be alright." he winked before resuming his climb up the fairly steep incline, sand rolling down in little rivulets behind his retreating feet.

You lagged behind a bit, watching him go through narrowed eyes. Turning your gaze towards the setting sun, you mused to yourself that soon, the two of you would need to stop for the night. The roads through here were too dangerous to travel at night.

He would have some turnabout coming his way, you knew that for certain. Your days of being teased were about to be done.

[dashcon-two]

Our First Update!

Hi everyone! Wow, the reception to DashCon 2 online has been insane. We are so incredibly grateful for the support! We know that there haven’t been a ton of updates in these past few weeks, but we promise that we’ve been planning a bunch behind the scenes. We're going to be going over a lot of information here that we covered in our newsletter, along with some more behind-the-scenes details. 

If you haven’t subscribed to our newsletter, please consider doing so! We’ll be putting out monthly summaries of important updates, alongside regular short posts here on our blog and these longer summaries.

NOTICE 07/9/2024: We're currently having some trouble with the newsletter and cannot guarantee that you'll receive our summary right away. We're sorry for the inconvenience and working hard to resolve the matter

WHY HAVEN’T THERE BEEN MORE UPDATES 

Frankly, a lot of the stuff we’ve been working on is pretty boring. We’ve been working a lot on budgeting and logistics, what you’d expect from a con that’s still pretty early on in development. We also haven’t wanted to rush announcing anything just to have something to put out; we don’t want to make promises that we can’t keep. We have more in the works, we promise, but we’ve been taking time to make sure that we’re laying a strong foundation for all future plans. 

To be completely honest, we originally planned on publically announcing our plans in mid-September, which has definitely impacted our publication schedule. When we learned of Strange Aeons’ DashCon video we realized that it would be a great time to reach out to her (which we’d already planned on doing), and go public with our plans. We were also concerned that if we went public after her video it would be assumed that this was a cashgrab aiming to ride the hype from her video. Because of this, we’ve had far less to announce than we would’ve necessarily liked. However, we’re now at the stage where we’ll have a more consistent update schedule going forward. 

OUR TEAM

To start, we have received a lot of questions about our team and experience. The DashCon 2 team is a mishmash of people in and around the convention world. For specifics you can consult our  About Us page, but as a collective we have people who have worked professionally as event/programming coordinators, volunteered at conventions/festivals/renaissance fairs, and of course, we've all been attending conventions as guests for over a decade. 

If you’re interested in potentially joining our team, we’ve now opened up volunteer applications for people interested in helping organize DashCon Two. Please fill out this form, and we’ll be in touch soon!

Our team is also working hard to connect with other people in the con scene, especially in our local area. We’d like to give a big thanks to Jenn from Dangerous Ladies for consulting with us and shouting us out on Twitter. Please check her out on Twitter @dangerousladies!  If you’ve been involved in con organization and wouldn’t mind having a quick chat with us, we’d love to hear your two cents! Please contact us through this form.

VENUE

Unfortunately we don't have a specific venue confirmed yet. We’ve been in contact with a variety of venues available around our preferred date, but we're still negotiating the details. We cannot confirm anything until paperwork has been signed, but know that not matter what, we will be paying for our venue in advance.

Because of some new venue updates (that we can't talk about yet), the date of our event may be subject to change, but will remain within the month of July.

VENDOR APPLICATIONS

The team is thrilled by the excitement so many Canadian artists have for vending at DashCon 2. Vendor applications are not open yet because we haven't yet signed for the venue. Once the venue is confirmed we'll be able to finalize our numbers, including attendee expectations and price.

Thanks for reading! The DashCon 2 Team

[roguelov]

All Work, No Play

Summary: After another mission, you returned back to Miguel. Yet, he paid little mind to you, focused solely on his work. Soon, your mind wandered to all your times together and you quickly craved him. Miguel, however, being stubborn and busy as per usual would not budge. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

Word Count: ~3.9k

Reader: Afab (no fem pronouns used/ reader described as beautiful)

Warnings: SMUT (thigh riding, oral (fem!receiving and male!receiving), cockwarming, dirty talk, edging, riding, unprotected sex, mainly dom!Miguel, creampie, begging, a little biting and blood), some fluff also sprinkled throughout, established relationship

Based of my post here

MINOR DNI/18+ ONLY

Another anomaly.

Another mission.

Another universe saved.

You should be thrilled, or at least pleased with the work you have accomplished. Yet, all you wished was to go back to Spider HQ and collapse.

Or more specifically, you wanted to collapse into someone’s arms.

Opening a portal, you stepped through with the tied up anomaly in tow. You almost relaxed hearing the cacophony of chatter from all the other spider people. It was strangely homely, if not comforting to see others similar to yourself. A few approached - the ones you called to tell of the anomaly you were bringing back - and swept up the anomaly to be sent back to their own universe. You thanked them and headed straight to the one person who ran this entire operation: Miguel O’Hara. His office was up ahead, and a place few willingly entered without explicit permission.

Walking down the hall and passing all the machines and discarded work, you glanced up to see the high platform in the air with a dozen or so monitors. You don’t announce yourself. You fired a web, swinging up. Your feet landed quietly, stealthy, onto the platform. But, you knew he sensed your presence. The man leaned forward in his chair, tapping away at the holographic monitors. News feeds, reports, surveillances of other universes, cases of anomalies, all of it zipped by.

“Good job today,” he muttered, still distracted by what was in front of him.

Pulling off your mask, you walked forward and leaned your hip against the edge of the massive desk. “Yeah, well after fighting so many Green Goblin variants you start to understand their patterns a bit.”

His dark crimson eyes peered over at you. He hummed, and nodded once. He glanced back to the screens, obviously more interested with his work than this basic conversation.

It stung, just a little. You quickly pushed down those bitter feelings, this was truly nothing new. However, this gave you an opportunity to drink him in. And most of all, to let your thoughts wander for a brief moment.

“Miguel,” you moaned, tugging on his dark locks.

He chuckled, lifting his head from in between your legs. His mouth coated in your juices. He rested his cheek on your bruised thighs, smirking up at you with such mischief and adoration in his glowing crimson eyes.

“Yes?” He murmured, and pressed endearing butterfly kisses on your thigh.

You groaned at his antics. You yanked on his hair, directing him towards where you needed him most. He laughed again.

“Oh?” His hot breath on your dripping core made you instinctively buck your hips towards his wondrous mouth. His hands curled around your hips and forced you back down into the bed. “Talk to me, cariño. Hmm? What do you want?

“Are you even listening to me?”

You snapped out of your thoughts. Blinking, you hummed confused, “What?”

Miguel sighed, heavily, “Never mind, we can discuss it later.”

He shook his head, and returned to his work. You, however, stood staring. Almost hungrily. When was the last time anyway? A month? Longer? You both have been so busy lately. You peered down at the hallway and entrance of the office. No one was coming, and no one could truly sneak up the two of you if -

“Is there something else you need?”

Your eyes snapped back over to him. He didn’t look at you, but his question lingered in the air.

There was.

There was indeed.

“Miguel,” you began, stepping towards him.

Internally, he groaned. He knew that tone. And now was certainly not the time.

“No,” he quickly answered.

“Come on, Miguel,” you complained. You wanted to collapse into someone’s arms, and why not make it more fun while you were at it. Why not find a wonderful way to distress? “A quickie before anyone notices.”

“Later,” he muttered, still typing away at screens and reviewing reports.

Later?

You huffed, crossing your arms. Your lips thinned, very obviously annoyed. Later, it was his new favorite word. But, you wouldn’t take ‘no’ or ‘later’ this time. No more excuses. And luckily, you didn’t have to dwell long before an idea struck. One to satisfy yourself, and to get underneath his skin.

Just as he has with you.

A win win.

In a flurry of movements, you quickly straddled his lap, completely unbothered by his minor protests. His chair rolled back as he glared up at you. He was ready to argue, ready to throw you off. But, your next words intrigued him enough to pause momentarily. You leaned in closely, and whispered sultry, “If you won’t, then I will.”

You positioned yourself over one of his massive thighs. He knew exactly what you were doing now. And oh, he would not cave so easily.

Or so he told himself.

Your hands rested on his shoulder. You blocked out the screens and forced him to look at you, forced him to acknowledge you and your needs after so long. You rolled your hips, and purposefully let out an outrageously pornographic moan. His hands balled up into fists at his sides.

Two could play at this game, he thought.

His jaw clenched. He would work, and work he did. He would not let you win. But, god he was starting to crave you. His thoughts were now being dragged through a lustful haze.

He ran this thumb over your bottom lips, pushing your mouth apart. “Just like that,” Miguel praised you as he slipped his cock inside your mouth.

He sighed deeply, dropping his shoulders.

On your knees, you slowly bobbed your head. Your hands wrapped around his thighs to steady yourself. One of his hands rested on top of your head, guiding you. It was a soft, easy pace.

A slow build up.

You glanced up at him. His head was tipped back, looking up at the ceiling. His mouth was agape as soft moans tumbled out. Sweat beaded across his forehead. A few of his dark curls clung to his sculpted face. Sensing your gaze, his head dropped forward as he smiled lovingly down at you. His hand moved from the top of your head to your cheek.

You, on the other hand, shared a darker look, a more devious one. Before Miguel could ask, you moaned loudly, sending waves of pleasant vibrations and instantly picking up your pace. He hissed out. Almost doubling over, he braced his forearm onto the nearby wall.

“Ah,” he groaned as a string of curses spilled out of his lips in Spanish.

You smiled to yourself, taking such pride in rendering Earth 2099’s Spiderman into a babbling mess.

“Oh my god, just like that,” he moaned. “Please, don’t stop.”

You grinded down, and moaned unabashedly.

A vein nearly popped in Miguel’s forehead.

You bunched up his suit, and quickened your pace. Your wall fluttered around nothing, begging to be filled. You needed him, but you wouldn’t say that.

Both of you were a bit too egotistical at times. This being one of them.

His teeth grinded together as he listened to you, to your growing heavy panting. He relented somewhat. One of his hands rested your hip - his talons poked at you - as he very gently followed your movements. Your forehead rested onto his shoulder as you whined desperately and so closely to his ear. All to just tease him further.

God, how could he focus? How could he work now?

Your soft moans and cries, your panting, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your obvious attempt to finish as you sped up but can’t quite reach it, it all riled him up. It all went straight through him. The bulge in his suit became more and more apparent with every agonizing second.

Fine, he thought.

He clenched his thigh.

You immediately gasped, “Miguel.”

You had finally won.

He finally caved.

He instantly turned his head, burying his face into your neck. His hot breath on your already flushed skin made you shiver. His lips teasingly brushed over your neck then began to place sloppy kisses up and down. Both of his hands now forcibly grabbed your hips as you continued to rock back and forth. He yanked you harshly forward, setting a new brutal pace.

“I know, I know,” he whispered. “Let me help.”

“Now?” You breathed out. It was a jab at him, even though you were unbelievably grateful right now. He grinded you down on his thigh, and you squirmed. “Now, you want to help?”

“Would you like me to stop?”

“God, no.”

He smirked to himself, “Good.”

Yes, you had finally enticed him. You had also awakened something else in him - that familiar sinister fiend.

“Take it off,” he whispered.

“What?” You barely registered his words. All your focus was on the overwhelming relief you were now feeling as well as the knot forming in the pit of your stomach. You hissed. His talons started to bury further and further into your hips and thighs. Such pain brought such sweet, undeniable pleasure.

“Your suit. Take it off.” He repeated a little more sternly in your ear. His lips skimmed over your neck again. “Or I could rip it off -“

“Don’t you dare,” you huffed. This was your only spare left.

“Then take it off.”

His grip loosened.

Fine.

Unzipping the suit, you quickly stood up, shucking off everything, and leaving nothing behind. Miguel, however, only removed the lower half of his suit. Whatever tech he wore allowed such privileges. You wanted to complain, you wanted to scoff. Yet, it was all silenced.

His cock sprung out, the swollen tip leaked with precum.

Your heart leapt up into your throat, and you shivered in delightful anticipation. Not to mention, how your eyes drank in the happy trail which followed up his abdomen.

After so many times, it still all excited you.

“Come here,” Miguel sweetly whispered, almost too sweetly. He had a plan for you. One you happily ignored. He reached out, grabbing your hips guiding you back to him. You clambered back into the chair, straddling him.

His thumbs soothingly rubbed at your hips. He stared up at you with a small smile on your lips. You had mistaken his smile for kindness, it was utterly devious. His eyes blazed with a certain sinful lust. The tip of his cock teased your entrance. You whined softly, then viciously dug your nails into his shoulders. “Miguel, I swear to -“

“Shhh,” he purred, and kissed your neck. “All will be better soon, cariño. But, let me have my fun … just for a little bit.”

Another mistake on your part.

You just nodded.

You needed this desperately. But, he possibly needed this more. He simply didn’t realize it until you were in his grasp again.

He groaned, slowly bringing you down. Inch by sweet delicious inch, he stretched you out. With your head still resting on his shoulder, you could look down and have the perfect view as he filled you completely.

Fuck.

Bottoming out, he slowly rolled his hips, sending a small wave of pleasure through you. Your eyes fluttered closed as you sighed in delight. His fang now protruded, grazing over your neck. You lolled your head to the side. He smirked. He licked up your neck, and nibbled on your ear. “You are going to pay dearly for what you did.”

You opened your mouth, a retort was ready to leap off your tongue. His hands then wandered up. His talons softly scratched across your back. You shivered, and hummed instead. The faint touches over your needy skin sent dizzying spells through you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, flushing you to his broad chest.

His lips brushed by your ear, “So impatient.”

You let out an airy laugh. You lifted your head, staring directly into his intimidating crimson eyes. “You’re right.”

You bucked your hips. He groaned, burying his face back into your neck. Your fingers tangled into his dark hair. You tried to lift your hips, tried to get more friction. But, his hands flew down keeping you in place. He chuckled darkly. He slowly kissed your neck, a sweetness despite the words that soon followed. “Oh, no. You have to sit here.”

He scooted his chair forward with you still in his lap. Your back bumped into the desk. You squirmed, wishing for some relief. But, it would not come. At least not now. One of his arms locked around your waist, easily keeping you in place as the other began to tap on screens.

“I think it’s time for you to learn some patience,” he hummed into your neck with a wide, devilishly smirk.

“Miguel, you can’t be -“

He instantly clamped a hand over your mouth. Staring directly into your eyes, he leaned in closely, and almost snarled. “Patience and silence.”

You had to bite back a snide remark. You wanted to get under his skin again, you wanted to get more of a rise out of him. But, you also wanted relief.

As if knowing of your impending comeback, he dipped his head, whispering in your ear, “Maybe if you let me finish my work, there might be a reward.”

His hand fell from your mouth, your pouty lips, and rested on your hip again. His fingers dug into you: a final warning to stay perfectly still.

“So, can you behave for me?” He asked, clearly amused by all of this.

You gritted your teeth, and opened your mouth. He bucked his hips upwards. All the words died. A moan fell out of your lips instead. He chuckled, and lightly smacked your hip, “Good.”

Your silence was now taken as obedience.

He turned his attention back onto the multiple screens and went back to work.

Minutes crawled by. Maybe an hour? Maybe it was only seconds? You clung to his body fiercely like it was the only life preserver left in this sea of torment. Sweat broke out across your forehead. You buried your face into his shoulder, panting. The clicks, and beeps, of the screens couldn’t drown out your desperate noises. The hums, the whines, the moans, you were becoming so vocal. Any slight movement - whether intentional or not - sent jolts of pleasure through you.

Yet, it wasn’t enough.

Even if you tried to move, Miguel’s grip was ironclad. One twitch and you were met with a tsk of disappointment followed by a snarky remark along the lines of ‘the more you move, the more I work’ or ‘relax, patience is often the best reward’.

And if you had any comment at all, he silenced it before you could utter a single letter by giving you just a minor taste of relief. He would buck or roll his hips, or grind you down further on him.

By the end, however long it was, you were a complete mess and slumped heavily into him. Most of your fight had worn out.

Soon, his fingers sneakily moved across your stomach. You tensed. Dipping lower, they found your sensitive little bud. You gasped, and moaned. His fingers slowly circled around your clit, just teasing you more and more. You bit the inside of your cheek hoping to prevent all the insane pleas that were ready to crawl out. You were so sensitive and so needy. Your walls clamped down around him, aching for more.

He groaned at the sensation, “Oh, I want to fold you over this desk.”

You shuddered in excitement. “Then do it,” you taunted, despite your incredibly shaky voice.

“No.”

You whined, “God, you are so annoying sometimes.”

“And so are you.”

You swore under your breath. He was so infuriating, so annoying, and still somehow so unbelievably gorgeous. If you had any less of a spine, you would let him get away with so much more. But, just how he teased you, you equally loved to return the favor.

You thought today was your turn, but you underestimated him.

“God,” you mumbled. You started to kiss his jaw, trying to soften him up. “Just fuck me already.”

His fingers pulled away from your clit, and you almost wanted to cry. Chuckling, his lips brushed over your ear and teasingly asked in a low seductive voice, “Aw, qué pasa, cariño?”

“You are the worst,” you groaned, half heartedly.

He smirked. Your words and how your body reacted were always at odds. “I am? Says the one who strolled in here asking for it.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” you hissed.

He rolled your hips, and you instantly moaned. “Oh, but you love it,” he hummed. “Don’t you?”

No response.

“Aw, no witty comeback? No attempts to bruise my pride? Or to simply irritate me?” He looked into your eyes, seeing your obvious and desperate want. “Maybe you have finally learned some patience.”

Your heart soared. You didn’t dare say yes or nod your head in fear of more sinister tricks. You could be here for another hour if he so wished.

He slowly rocked your hips, giving you just a bit more friction. That small simple movement was downright hypnotic. “Just say please for me, okay? Dame uno por favor, sí?”

Your head tipped back as you sighed blissfully. You didn’t hear him. Or you willfully ignored him. He quickly grabbed your chin, yanking you forward.

“Ah, let me hear it.”

Normally, you would fight. Yet, you were at your wit’s ends. You instead melted into him, gazing longingly into his eyes. You conceded. “Please,” you whispered very softly.

“Más fuerte. Say it louder.”

“Please,” you begged. You cupped his face, bringing him closer. You peppered kisses all over his face and continuously said ‘please’ after each one. “Please, I need you.”

He hummed, “Perfect.”

Grabbing the back of your neck, he kissed you passionately. His tongue slipped inside without warning, swirling around and drawing out more desires. You moaned unapologetically into him. With inhuman strength, he easily picked you up, laying you across the desk. All the holographic screens disappeared. He attacked your lips with a ferociousness, one you had experienced time and time again. And yet it continued to leave you breathless. Pulling away, his sharp teeth tugged on your bottom lip, and drew out a small spot of blood.

He smirked down at you, at your droopy lust filled eyes. His thumb grazed over your now swollen lips and wiped away the dot of blood. “Qué hacer contigo? Hmm? Should I really give you what you want?”

Your hands curled around to the back of his neck, drawing him back down. You gently pecked his lips. A tiny plea, and almost a small apology for starting this. “Please,” you begged again quietly against his lips.

His hands traveled down your body, latching back onto your hips. “Why can’t you be this nice all the time?”

“You love it, though,” you smirked a little, tossing his same words back at him. “You like when I’m annoying you.”

“Perhaps.” He pulled out, before forcibly slamming once into you. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan. “But, I do like when I’m able to silence that pretty mouth of yours.”

After so long, he pounded into you. Mercilessly. You arched your back, and wrapped your legs around his waist. You had driven him insane since your little stunt, he had his fun, and now he was going to take everything you gave him. He would have you crying, and whining on his cock. He would have you begging nonstop. He would have you cumming again and again if he so pleased.

You kissed him messily again. Tongue and teeth clashed. You bucked your hips, matching his mind numbing pace. You wouldn’t last long. You could feel the knot ready to burst, but you didn’t want this to end. Breaking apart, catching a fleeting breath, you moaned as his cock easily split you open.

He growled, rutting into you like a feral animal.

But, then something snapped in him.

This wasn’t enough for him.

He lifted you up off the desk, holding your waist. Bucking his hips upward, and lifting you up and down, while also using the help of gravity, you were being slammed tirelessly on his cock.

“Fuck, Miguel.” You clawed at his shoulders.

His cock kissed new places you didn’t think was possible. You nearly went limp in his grasp, like a rag doll. It was all so delicious, all so wonderful, and oh so sinful. The wet sounds of his cock slipping in and out, the slapping of his hips against you, his soft moans and hisses of pleasure, it all added to this building sensation - the impending euphoric crash.

Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t last long now in this new position.

“Miguel,” you moaned. “I’m about to -“

“I know, I know,” he murmured into your neck. He nipped and sucked at your tender neck. Your walls fluttered around him. God, it drove him nuts. You felt amazing, heavenly even. “Cum for me, carñio. Please, I want to see it.”

You tried to help, tried to grind on him or buck your hips. But, you were at his mercy. He was relentless. And god, you loved it. You were happily bouncing on his cock as he used and abused you.

“Fuck,” you moaned again.

You were so close.

“Come on,” he hissed. “Let me see it.”

You clashed your lips to his. It was sloppy. Your legs tightened around him, as if needing him closer. As if he wasn’t already buried deeply inside of you. Miguel moaned. He slammed you back down, and rolled your hips.

That was it.

The knot snapped.

You moaned loudly into him, and you came around him. Miguel peppered kisses all over your face. “Ah, just like that. Oh, you are so beautiful.”

“Fuck,” you hissed as you began to work yourself back down from your high. You pressed your forehead against his. Breathing heavily, you whined softly he still continued to use you to reach his own end. It was all so much, and somehow not enough. Fuck, he truly was amazing. Looking into his eyes, you gently stroked his cheek and murmured tiredly, “Come on, Miguel. Fill me up. I want you to.”

Miguel moaned.

“Just like that. God, you feel amazing.” You hummed, playing with the ends of his hair on the back of his neck.

His talons dug into your hips, cutting them and bruising them. After a few more thrusts, he stuttered. Tumbling forward, he quickly set you down on the desk, his arms on either side of you as he finished inside of you. He stared deeply into your eyes, his pupil blown wide with an animalistic haze still behind them. Your combined breathing filled the space between you.

With your legs still around his waist, you jerked him closer. He hissed, still very sensitive. “Still want to go back to work,” you smugly asked.

He chuckled, then smiled at you. “Still have that mouth on you I see.”

“Oh, but you love it.”

His thumb - and with his talons still out - ran across your lip. “I do, and how about we continue this elsewhere. Maybe I can have it put to other uses.”

“Maybe if you beg nicely.”

His eyes lit with such passion at your lightning fast remark. His eyes flickered to your lips, smirking, “Hmm, maybe.”

You truly knew how to push him. God, he did love it. No, actually he just loved you.

[neoarchipelago]

Cotton candy pacifier

A/N: Was this scheduled? No. Did I wrote it? Yes. I have a blank page problem right now and went out to an amusement park last weekend. My own hormones have made me fantasize and throw together this shit. Please have mercy on me at this point.

Warnings: (f! Reader x Simon) ADULT CONTENT. 18+ pregancy talk, breeding kink, cursing, p in v. Oral receiving. Slight blood, biting.

Simon never wanted to be a father. Too much baggage and trauma, too much fear of never having a good role model to be a good father. You had talked about it. You had long conversations. And even if you were understanding, accepted this fate, saying that he was all you could ever wish for, words hitting him like a mix of pain and pleasure, he saw the hint of sadness behind your eyes. 

He had tried to be extremely soft, and passionate for months after those discussions, trying to show you how much he loved you. 

So here he was. Black t-shirt tight around his torso, mask on and black cargo pants. Looking at the large group of recruits in front of him. Price Laswell and another higher up beside him as the last warnings were given. 

Soldiers and their families had been offered a full day at an amusement park the military had privatized for the occasion. 

As much as he tried to remain professional, his eyes often turned to you, pretty little excitement sprawled across your face, almost jumping in place. Jeans shorts and tank top with your little backpack, hair messily tied up. Soap was a menace next to you, already giving him a headache. But you were such a lovely sight. 

When finally, the briefing was over and everyone made their merry way into the park, Price, Laswell and Ghost walked towards the group. Laswell joined her wife and so did Price, the two little munchkins jumping at the sight of their dad. You immediately rushed to Ghost's side as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Soap was practically bursting at the seams with excitement, gaz not too far behind causing Price's kids to be overexcited. Ghost sent them a warning look before everyone headed for the first attraction. 

The morning went smoothly, Soap and Gaz betting on who would handle the worst roller coasters while Price and his wife indulged in some of them, as you accepted to look over the kids during the ride time. The kids were thrilled to simply spend time with their Uncle Ghost, sometimes joined by Soap and Gaz, for small carousels or mild roller coasters. The parents were thankful and indulged in some time without taking care of the kids too much. 

It was what first started bugging him. The way you were happily cleaning up Kyle's chin as ice cream had dripped down. The look in your eyes made something burn in him. Or the way the little Lily munched on a few fries in your arms while you made sure her little hat was secured and her skin hadn't been too touched by the sun. 

He didn't mind at all John's kids. He even liked spending time and taking care of them, feeling a sense of protectiveness over the small cute beings. He sometimes grumbled that Soap and Gaz were even harder to take care of than John's well behaved kids. 

Something else bothered him. Not the little heart strings being pulled when he saw you smiled at him when he won two plushies for the kids. He was almost sure you looked at him with something between happiness, adoration and pure fucking need. He was almost taken aback by it but also by the way he absolutely adored seeing that look on your face. That same look that seemed to show up more and more through the day, as he held Kyle on his shoulders, or held Lily as she fed on her bottle.

But it vanished quite quickly. When another recruit whispered to you that the lieutenant seemed to be the perfect dad and you two would be amazing parents. He had heard. Of course he did. He was a trained soldier with years of experience and trauma. 

After that, you had avoided eye contact when he held up the kid unless it was a polite smile or kind smile. You'd turn to the child in his hold for something but ignore his gaze on you. You weren't exactly sad. Something else was laced with your new avoidance. It was growing on his nerves. That and the new intrusive thoughts of you, holding a child. The image far in his mind, a high resemblance with you and a mix of him. 

He could feel his fists clench as the images rushed through his mind. You, glowing under the sun, swollen with his child. The idea mixed with his fear. He tried to pull you closer to him as you held the little girl, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest as the little girl reached for his mask without an ounce of fear in her eyes. He could feel your breath hitch and the shiver that ran through you. His hand reached for the little girl's cheek, barely pinching, making the girl giggle. The soft skin against rough calloused one, hands that saw more horrors than the child would ever witness. 

"S..Simon?" You stuttered, turning your head to send a questioning look. 

He didn't answer, only dropping a kiss on your head through the mask. The idea crept in his mind, nesting there and haunting his mind. Price noticed. Of course he did. He knew Simon all too well, even through the mask. 

"Ghost. What's on your mind?" He asked, sitting on the bench next to him. 

Simon remained silent, eyes looking at you as you ate the soft cloudy pink thing in your hand. 

"If you keep looking at her like that she'll notice." He teased. 

"She wants kids." Simon blurted out. 

"And you don't.." Price deduced. Simon groaned, closing his eyes. "Simon. Talk to me." Price added. 

"I… shit." Simon felt the frustration grow. "I'll never be a good father. Fuck. I don't know what's a good father." 

"Now you're hurting my pride and feelings." Price added. 

Simon's head snapped towards the man who arbourded one of his signature smiles. 

"I didn't mean… Price, you're an amazing father." Simon caught himself. 

"I wouldn't say amazing. No one's perfect." He clarified, straightening himself. "But I try." He smirked. "Simon. It is your decision whether or not you want to have kids, and her decisions to accept it or not. But don't take that decision based on your past. You are not that man." He said, eyes locking into Simon's one. "I'd like to think, I raised you all to be better than that." He joked. 

He was right. Price was the closest thing to a father he ever had. The best role model he could think of. It didn't erase the fear of it all. But a tiny part of his brain was unlocked, one that might see himself with a baby later on. Price patted his back, smiling again before getting up to join his wife. Simon tried to look at you, falling into your pretty eyes. He frowned at the worried look on your features. He straightened himself, subtly patting his thigh. He cursed under his breath watching you obediently skip to him to sit on his lap. 

"Are you.. ok, Simon?" You asked, a low voice. 

"I'm ok baby. Are you ok love? " he asked as well. You looked away for a second, making him slightly squeeze your thigh. "Talk to me Y/N." He insisted. 

You bit your lip before looking up at him with your pretty soft eyes. 

"I'm sorry…" you whispered. 

"You're sorry baby?" He frowned. "Tell me why." 

"For.. I mean.. I've been with the kids all day so far.." you stumbled on your explanation. 

"Yes. You have, why are you apologizing about that?" He was confused. 

"I know… you don't want kids… we've talked about it. I don't want to annoy you by playing mama-" 

He groaned, eyes shutting closed. Images of you playing 'mama' making his cock twitch in his pants. Now where did this new attraction come from? 

"I'm sorry Simon!" You whined. His eyes snapped open.

"No baby. I'm not mad. I'm not annoyed.. don't think that." He reassured, his hand leaving your thigh to softly caress your cheek. 

"You're… not?" You asked, a slight hint of relief in your voice. 

"Of course not baby. Shit… you've been.. beautiful, playing mama.." he hissed. 

He watched you blink, with a little shocked expression on your face. You tilted your head slightly. 

"What..?" You asked. 

"So fucking pretty… with Lily at your hip.." Simon groaned again, face burying in your neck, his pants getting uncomfortable. You shivered slightly. 

"S-simon…" you whined a bit. "There's… people…" 

As if on cue with your words, his hand caressed your thighs, featherlight fingers up and down your skin, sometimes too close to the burning heat growing in between your legs. He was supposed to behave. Just like he had instructed the recruits this morning at the briefing. But you looked tempting. And the new images in his head, him fucking his seed deep in you, with the slight possibility of watching you later on with your own baby. He was a pleaser after all. Your hands squeezed slightly his shoulders, trying to squirm nearer to him. 

"Fuck.." he cursed against your neck. "Need you baby.." he growled against your ear. 

"We… the car.." you tried, making him grin at your already hazy mind, just from the thought of him fucking you. 

"No. Too long." He shook his head. He tapped your thigh lightly to make you stand, as you looked at him with a questioning look. He intertwined the tip of your fingers with his, barely pulling you forwards in front of him, your obvious compliance making him eager. He made you walk, sending a last glance to the group as Price caught his eye, shaking his head playfully at him. 

His hand on the small of your back as he guided you towards the nearest 'staff only' door. 

"S..sir, you can't-" 

Simon threw a death glare to the poor employee who simply walked away, pretending not to have seen anything. You were softly pushed inside, the door closing behind the both of you.

"Simon-" 

He had already lifted his mask above his nose, hands cupping your cheeks as he kissed your lips softly. A sigh escaped him, as if he finally felt the tension release from his muscles. You stepped closer to him, hands on his chest, a burning touch that made him crave more. Perhaps you were the sun, burning brightly for him, and he was Icarus, with the only goal to fly to you, no matter if you burn down his wings. He made sure to wrap his arm around your waist, the other hand cupping the back of your head as he pushed you back against the wall. Once he was sure you were safely against the wall, his hands now caressed your body freely, pushing and pulling at your clothes, only aching to feel your skin against his. 

You were already whimpering, your hands slipping under his shirt, nails softly scratching his lower back giving him goosebumps. He ached for more. Needed to feel you. His hand pulled on your top with a rougher pull, freeing your perky breast. 

"Simon! Someone could… walk in-" your complaints turned into a moan as his mouth found your sensitive nipple. You pushed forward your chest, giving him more access. 

"So willing for me princess…" he groaned against your skin. You whined, hand at the back of his neck, trying your best to stifle your moan. His cock was painfully hard, images of you pregnant with his child only bringing him over the edge of control. He kneeled suddenly as you gasped, his hands undoing your short's button and zipper with expertise before pulling them down with your panties. He lifted one of your legs making you grab onto his shoulders to keep balance. 

"Need to taste you.." 

His hands hooked under your legs, wrapping around your ass before he planted a soft kiss on your naked lips. He could almost make such a sinful act look like the purest of them all. His eyes looked up at you, the sight of him down on his knees, mouth against your already soaked pussy made you whine pornographicly. His eyes were firmly planted into yours as his tongue slowly darted out, almost lazily, licking a stripe across your folds, not dipping in. You whimpered at the sight, your hands meeting the side of his face as you looked down at him lovingly, abandon written all over your gaze. 

He groaned, closing his eyes, feeling unworthy of such dedication. His tongue pushed past your lips, tasting you as he groaned, feeling the wetness of his boxers as his cock leaked precum. He swirled the tip of his tongue on your puffy clit a few times, delicately before losing once again all control. He ate you like his life depended on it, his hips thrusting forwards slightly at a higher moan from you. 

"Simon!" You hissed, scolding him from making you be so loud. 

You weren't truly mad. How could you when his tongue was dragging you to the pits of hell where he sat on his throne ready to fuck you just like you like it. He was your devil, your beast, the one you'd happily sin for, give in your soul and life to. You shut your eyes, feeling the familiar high approaching. You whined his name, but he knew. Of course he knew. One would say you were an open book to him. He'd say you were a holy scripture. You'd say that he was the only one able to decipher you. 

When you felt your body shake, stars behind your eyelids from pleasure and your hand hitting the wall behind, Simon's grip tightened on you, making sure to hold you up. You were panting when he pulled back, licking his lips greedily. He let his forehead fall against your stomach as his fingers traced down lazily to your still pulsating pussy. Two fingers at your entrance, toying with you before slowly pushing inside. 

"Simon… ah.. please.." you moaned, unable to keep your level down. 

He thrusted slowly, making sure to stretch you slightly, preparing your tightness to him. The impatience was killing him. Now was too much. His fingers left your heat, his tongue lapping at his fingers as he moaned against them. He got up, kissing you again, tongue demanding and dominating. His hand flew to his belt unbuckling it single handedly without breaking the kiss. Your breath hitched at the sound of it. 

"Need to have you now… need to fuck you.." he said, his voice deeper and tone darker. The heavy contrast with the screams and laughter from outside of the door. Yes. Your devil. 

But as he lifted you up, hands hooking underneath your knees, his tip at your entrance- when did he even?!- you snapped into reality. 

"Simon wait! We don't have any condoms!" You yelped. 

Condoms? Ah yes… you had stopped the pill two months ago for some hormonal problem. Shit… his mind went blank, neurons gone to play cards or something while the little naughty thoughts of his newly found kinks spurred his nerves. He bottomed out in one thrust, your wetness helping but the stretch and burn still present as you yelped. 

"Si.." you tried to shake him out of his trance. 

"Shh.. baby, let go… it's ok…" he shushed, hips thrusting up into slow movements, easing the burn and letting his fat cock rub against your walls the way he knows you like it. You were trying to keep a stern face, trying to scold him, but you'd lie if you'd say his behavior didn't truly turn you on. The position only helped him grind your clit, sending little electricity waves up your spine. When he finally had your brain into a cockdrunk mush, he grinned, picking up the pace. Your hands holding on to dear life around his shoulders as you whined and moaned loudly, eyes glossy and brows furrowed in a little pout. 

"That's it baby… good girl… god you look so pretty, fuck, look so pretty taking this fat cock…" he groaned, making you squeeze around him, second orgasm way too close already. How did he even get you there so fast? He was damned skilled but shit… the way he looked at you. Logic gone, pupils dilated, muscles flexing underneath your palms. He looked ready to devour you… or devote himself to you. At this point you were sure both were knotted into a messy curse. What had happened to have him completely lose himself? Risk it all for a wild fuck? 

A ping sadness coursed through you, probably flashing through your eyes as he thrusted deeper once to grab your attention. 

"What's wrong baby?" He panted, slowing down his pace to slow, longing thrusts. 

"You're… ah…Si… you're risking.. a lot…" you whined, trying to focus through the pleasure. He was. He definitely was. And he loved it. Loved the idea to fill you up with his seed and pump you full until he was sure to see you round with his- 

"God.. fuck." He cursed loudly, craving giving him goosebumps as he slammed roughly into you. His mind was dirty talking him into a mess. "Yes. Shit. I'm risking it. I want it. Fuck. I need it." He chanted. 

The heat rose to your cheeks, you didn't know if his words did something, but you came hard, unable to keep the loud moan echoing through the room. 

"Wh..what..? Simon!" You tried to gather your thoughts. 

A little tsk escaped him. Now that wouldn't do. He needed to up his game. You were thinking too much. His face was close to yours. Eyes boring into your very soul that you knew he had a chokehold on. 

"Did I fucking stutter? You've been so pretty today…" he growled. "Acting like a mama with the kids… shit… been trying to stop myself from bending you over the, fuuuck… nearest surface just to breed this pretty little cunt.." you were going to talk. Say something but he cut you off. "We'll talk… not now… focus on me. Let me make you feel good… enjoy the feeling… the idea of me stuffing you full of my cum.." he rasped against the skin of your neck. 

A curse, a jinx. Perhaps a devil but also some old god that came to ensnare you. You obeyed. Willingly give in. Entrusting him. The idea blooming in your mind, his eyes trapping you in that familiar feeling of no one else in the world but the two of you. No more laughs and screaming from outside. Nothing more but the two of you, the feeling of his length splitting you open at a reckless pace. 

"Good girl… there you go.." he praised, feeling you relax in his arms, finally unable to think of anything else but him. Your legs were shaking from the overstimulation, the grinding of your clit making you jolt slightly, tears overwhelming you. 

"S'good.. so… good…" you whined, tears running down your cheeks now. 

"Yes baby… shit, so fucking good… you're doing good." His thrusts were sloppier, the sound of skin slapping and the sound of wetness filled the air. You were going to cum again, that one would wreck you. But wasn't this Simon's favorite pastime? Wreck you. Ruin you until the only thing on your mind is him. 

"Si-" you moaned hiding in his neck. 

"I know baby… I know… me too… s'close.." he moaned as he let his head back, giving you access to his neck. You nudged the fabric of the mask with your nose, just enough to show skin you could sink your teeth into as he made you bounce on his cock like you weighed nothing. 

"You gonna cum for me? Milk my cock deep in you?" You moaned pitifully as an answer. "Yes you are mama… make me so proud of how well you're taking me…" 

His new found nickname he found for you made something in you snap. You sank your teeth into his neck, the pain making him groan and jolt his hips up, hitting that sweet spot of yours. Now he was focused. Had a goal. His hips slamming into you at the perfect angle to make you crumble. And you were going to. He could feel it. His own high dangerously close. 

"Cum with me mama… milk daddy and keep it all inside baby…" he cooed with a hiss as you bit another spot on his neck. 

You shuddered around him, hips trembling trying to meet his thrusts, not that you needed it. The next wave of pleasure was blinding, your whines lost in sobs, nails digging into his back through the shirt, teeth drawing tiny droplets of blood on his neck. The loud curse, followed by moans as his sticky warm cum filled you up so deeply made your mind dizzy, your hearing gone for a few seconds. 

He remained like this as you both tried to breathe the same air. His cock deep in you, plugging you full.

"Simon.." you sobbed. 

He shushed you, lulled you in his arms, rocking left and right. 

"Did so good baby… proud of you." He kissed your hair, slipping out of you before quickly putting you down on your feet, helping you stand before kneeling to help you slip back your panties and shorts back on. He zipped them up and buttoned the jean fabric. 

"Darling… I'm still dripping with your cum…" you whined through a hiccup. 

He let you slowly back against the wall just enough to shove his cock back in his briefs, closing his cargo pants. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. He looked around the room, now taking in your surroundings, some kind of storage rooms for props. An old couch in a fairy tale against a wall. He picked you up bridal style, walking to the piece of furniture before sitting down, cradling you in his lap. He hugged you tight, praises kissing your skin. 

"Simon… where did that come from…" you tried making him look at you. 

"I…" he tried, clearing his voice. The reality of what he did hit him. "I've been watching you with the kids all day… don't know, what came over me…" he said, in some sort of apology. 

"It's.. I'll get a plan B…" you mumbled. 

"No-" he hurried. You looked at him in shock. "Listen… we'll talk about this… I, need to talk about this again. I don't know if I changed my mind, but I definitely… like, the idea of you bearing my child." He spoke, voice strained, unsure of his own words, feelings running across his mind at full speed. 

"We'll talk about it then… but.. this" you blushed, squeezing your thighs together, feeling the way your panties were soaked with a mix of the both of you. "It happened…" 

"Yeah… it did. I think… we still have a bit of time to think about it… doesn't have to be now. We'll talk at home. Just.. sorry I lost my shit." He apologized. 

"I like it…" you whispered. His heart jumped. 

"Oh mama… don't make me bend you over the couch…" he warned. 

You giggled. He kissed your lips, your cheeks, your nose, nuzzled against your neck. Yes. You'd talk about it. You had to. He had to face every possible consequence of his actions. And make up his mind. He kept you in his arms for a long half an hour, making you giggle and cuddling you close to him. When he finally stood up with you, watching close your eyes and bite your lip, probably at the sensation of his seed dripping into your panties, he fought the need to simply fuck you again, or put you in his car and drive home to keep you in bed for the rest of the weekend. 

"Simon! No!" You scolded. 

You had seen his gaze. You knew that burning gaze. He smirked before pulling down his mask, walking to the door with you. The sun was blinding, the noise of the park bringing you back to the real world. Simon glared again at the poor employee who immediately looked away. He held your hand as you both walked through the park, looking for the rest of the group. Soap was the first one to notice you, loudly calling you, bringing your attention to the group. 

"Hey! Where have you guys been?! Ghost you gotta ride that roller coaster with me!" He excitedly blurted out. Ghost sighed, making Soap roll his eyes with an overdramatic groan. 

"Come on Y/N! You're coming then! You splash in the water after" He smirked at you. 

Ghost tightened his hold on you, hand swiftly wrapping around your waist. 

"I think Y/N needs a moment of rest. I think she's wet enough…" John's wife said, a teasing look towards you, making you blush madly. 

"What are you talking about? She's totally dry…" Soap argued with a frown, looking at her and then at you and your blushing face. His eyes widened when his mind snapped things together. He stepped back, widening his stance to point a finger at Ghost. 

"You naughty rascal! In an amusement park?! After telling us to behave?!" He almost yelled. 

You hid your face in your hands. Little Kyle turned his attention to Soap while Lily giggled in her mom's arms. 

"Soap…" Ghost warned. 

"You're an animal." Soap shook his head, emphasizing the last word. 

Ghost smirked underneath his mask. Lily leaned forward, grabby hands towards Ghost. His eyes softened picking up the girl in his arms, slowly rocking her. Soap had gone from his rant to being scolded by Price for being so loud as Gaz laughed and John's wife tended to her son. Simon looked down at you, freezing on the spot. The look of lust, craving and desire in your eyes. Perhaps… This was getting interesting. 

[meangirls-imagines]

Coachella Diaries

Description: Reader works for WWE and gets hurt during Wrestlemania, causing her to go on a months long break. She goes to Coachella Weekend 2 to support her girl.

WARNINGS: fluffy as shit, slightly suggestive at the end, reneechella (bc that's a warning itself)

Y/N stepped (as best as she could) off the plane and sighed at the California sun hitting her body. 

Her body was exhausted. Wrestlemania was the 6th and 7th, she performed both nights and unfortunately had torn a couple of ligaments in her foot. She worked through the pain and helped make Wrestlemania record breaking. She had gotten surgery on the 16th, which meant she unfortunately missed the first weekend of her girlfriend playing Coachella.

Reneè was also understandably upset, not at Y/N, but at the fact that her girlfriend had to get surgery and she couldn't be there. Luckily for Reneè, Y/N had her fellow superstars keep the blonde updated. The doctor had cleared Y/N for travel on the 18th and she landed in LAX on the morning of the 19th. 

Towa had been the one to help Y/N plan this out, picking her up from the airport. The musician smiled as Y/N hobbled towards her with her bag. "There's my favorite cripple! How's the foot?" Y/N smiled and hugged the girl. "It's definitely injured. I'll be out for a minute but honestly, I'm not mad, I need a break."

Towa laughed. "Ain't that the truth? If I have to hear Reneè freak out about every bump you take, I might've gone crazy." Y/N blushed. Reneè was always very protective of Y/N, not that her profession helped with that. The blonde loved and hated watching Y/N do her thing. Yes, Y/N looked hot but if Y/N had to take another spear from Roman Reigns or a stomp to the chest from Finn Balor, Reneè was going to commit murder. 

This new era of WWE meant the return of inter-gender wrestling, with Y/N leading the charge. She had become the inaugural WWE World Heavyweight Champion, holding it for 316 days. She had been a part of the two biggest main events of Wrestlemania history, which is where she tore the ligaments in her foot. Never the less, she persisted and opened the next night of Mania, unfortunately she lost her title but the ovation she got when she got backstage was worth it. 

She was thrilled to help Cody finish his story but also was happy that she could get a break. She saw the doctor who gave her the diagnosis and what doctor to see and she was on her way.

She had messaged Towa the night she found out and set the surprise up. 

As the two ventured out of the airport, they caught up with each other, Towa informing Y/N of her love life and what not. The two reached the SUV and began the drive from the airport to the AirBnB they were renting for the festival. During the two hour car ride, Y/N had told Towa about some backstage drama happening as the Brit ate it up.

After 2 and a half hours, they finally made it to the house. Adam had been standing outside, waiting for them as they pulled up. The man helped Y/N out of the car and gave her a hug. "There's my favorite former champ! Congrats on the run. It was a rollercoaster." Y/N smiled and hugged the man back. "Thanks Adam! It was definitely a rollercoaster! A fun one though! So, where is my girl?"

Adam laughed. "She's out in the back with everyone else, they're pregaming before we go. Are you sure you can handle going out?" Y/N nodded. "I slept on the plane ride here. Perks of using the company jet." Adam nodded as Towa met up with them, handing Y/N her bag. The trio headed inside. 

Adam and Towa headed to the back to distract everyone while Y/N slipped into the room Reneè was staying in. She took in a deep breath, breathing in the scent of Reneè. God, she missed it so much. She changed quickly, putting on the custom "Reneèchella made me gay" shirt and some shorts before getting the message from Towa to make her appearance. 

She grabbed a beer from the fridge and headed out to the backyard. The group all did a "cheers" before taking the shots provided for them. Y/N decided to speak up. "Do I get a shot too?" 

Everyone turned towards the new voice but no one turned quicker than Reneè. The blonde stood shocked at the sight of her girlfriend, boot and all, standing in front of her. "Holy fuck! Reneè ran to where Y/N was standing and hugged the girl tightly. Y/N laughed and kissed the blonde's head. "Hey superstar. I've missed you." Everyone was aww-ing at the scene, some clapping. 

Reneè pulled away from the hug and pressed her lips to Y/N's, kissing her for the first time in weeks. The group cheered as the two kissed, causing Reneè to slip them off. After a minute, the two pulled away and Reneè began to scratch the back of Y/N's neck. "You're really here!" Y/N smiled and kissed her nose. "I am. Now I think it's time to have some fun." Reneè smiled and pulled Y/N over to her friends. 

The group was watching Chappell Roan absolutely kill it when fans began to notice the couple being all cute.

@y/nisthechamp: GUYS! I'M AT COACHELLA WATCHING THE QUEEN CHAPPELL ROAN AND RENEÈ AND Y/N ARE LITERALLY 10 FEET AWAY FROM ME AND THEY ARE SO CUTE!! Y/N IS HUGGING RENEÈ FROM BEHIND AND THEY ARE SINGING AND DANCING!!

@/reneerappslut23: guys. i just saw a video of reneè and y/n all cozy at coachella and my heart 🥺

@y/nfan123: just saw a video of reneè grinding on y/n while they were watching t-pain. don't know who i wanna be more...

@/reneefan253: guys. reneè cannot keep her hands off y/n. she's always rubbing her back or the back of her head or her shoulder. WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN?!

The group made their way back to the house, all breaking off to their respective rooms, sleepily exchanging good nights. Reneè and Y/N made their way to Reneè's room. The two flopped on the bed, Reneè snuggling into Y/N's side. "I'm so glad you're here. I can't wait for you to see me perform." Y/N kissed the blonde's forehead. "Me too baby."

The next day was a lot of the same, more musicians sets, more drinking, etc. Sunday came a lot faster than Y/N expected and she found herself sitting in Reneè's trailer with her, the girl getting ready for her set. Reneè was looking on her phone as her hairstylist finished up her look. Y/N decided to take a stealthy picture and post it on her insta with the caption "coachella ready", tagging Reneè. 

Comments started flooding in immediately. One that stood out to Y/N was from her not older sister Liv Morgan.

@/yaonlylivvonce: We are so excited to see her!! Drinks after?

Y/N smiled and responded to the girl. Adam poked his head in and informed Reneè she had five minutes. The blonde thanked him, took a deep breath and pulled Y/N with her to the wings of the stage. To Y/N and Reneè's surprise, Alyah was waiting for them. Reneè squealed, wrapping Alyah in a tight hug. Y/N smiled at the pair and took a picture of them hugging. Alyah pulled away and hugged Y/N too, scolding her about her injury and how she should've been more careful. 

Reneè saved Y/N by pulling her away from Alyah, wrapping her arms around Y/N's waist and burying her face in her neck. Y/N rubbed the blonde's back. "You're gonna do amazing out there Reneè. Please remember to drink water though. Don't need you passing out on stage." Reneè chuckled as she heard her intro being played. 

"Well, I guess that's me." Reneè pulled her head out of Y/N's neck, leaning up for a kiss. "I love you." Y/N smiled and pecked Reneè's lips. "I love you more. Now go kill it." And with a playful smack on the butt, Reneè went out on stage.

"Tasted the blood in my mouth, and left you there to bleed out.."

Y/N being there must have flipped a switch in Reneè because the girl was putting on a SHOW. Y/N had to keep herself from drooling watching her girlfriend do what she loved. Y/N's fav part do far had to be the Willow ass shake. For scientific reasons, of course. Y/N saw Towa getting her in-ears put in and grabbing her guitar. "Go kill it out there, Birdie." Towa winked playfully at Y/N and went out on her cue from the blonde. 

The two were soon joined by Coco Jones as they performed "Tummy Hurts". Y/N smiled at hoe happy her girl looked. Watching Reneè perform was Y/N's favorite thing to do. She loved how confident Reneè was on stage and how carefree she looked. 

After a beautiful rendition of "Snow Angel", Reneè gave her thanks to the crowd and jogged off stage. One of the crew guys poured a little bit of water on the back of Renee's neck, to cool her off, as the girl walked straight into Y/N's open arms, almost collapsing in the embrace.

"Fuck Reneè, I'm so fucking proud of you, superstar." Reneè blushed and hid her face in Y/N's neck. "I couldn't have done it without you here." Y/N laughed and kissed the blonde's temple. "You did it last weekend." Reneè pulled away from Y/N's neck and smiled at her. "Yeah, but it wasn't as fun." Y/N rolled her eyes and kissed Reneè, unaware of Towa taking a picture of them. 

Everyone praised Reneè and her performance before they walked back to the area where her trailer was. Alyah spoke up. "So, what's the plan now?" Reneè smirked and looked at Y/N. "Well, Y/N and I are going to go back to the house to...catch up and we'll meet you guys later?" Towa and Alyah shared a knowing look before nodding and going to watch another set. 

Y/N looked at Reneè confused. "Catch up?" The blonde nodded. "Mhhm. I'm planning on reclaiming my favorite seat..." Y/N caught on and blushed, allowing the blonde to pull her to the car waiting for them.

Yeah, Towa and Alyah would be fine on their own for a while...

[impala-dreamer]

I Ain't Ready To Go

A Short Story

"Some boundaries are hard not to cross..."

Jensen Ackles x F!Reader

3,426 Words

NSFW, Friends to Lovers, Infidelity, Passionate Love

For @jacklesversebingo - “An Agreement”

JacklesBingo Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Jensen fell face first onto the mattress without hesitation or warning, just plopping down as if his body had given out and he was done.

Y/N stood in the doorway watching his theatrical dive. A mostly empty bottle of bourbon hung in her left hand while she leaned against the pristine white wood.

The bedroom was dark but the suite behind her was bright and her curves were highlighted; her wild hair aglow. Jensen rolled onto his side and looked up at her. She was just as drunk, just as loose as he was, but he didn’t want the night to end.

Three hours post-concert, he was still riding high on the night. The thrill of the stage, the crowd's adulation- it was all pulsing through him like a drug he never wanted to wean off of.

Y/N took a deep breath and then a swig from the bottle. Jensen eyed her throat as she swallowed and he felt his focus shift. He popped up on his left arm and smiled.

“That was so fun,” he said. His voice was deep and hoarse, crackling around the edges.

“It was.” Y/N laughed. They’d been over it a thousand times since the curtain closed, stating the obvious again and again. It was fun. The band was on fire. He was perfect. She sang like an angel. He looked too good. She was too drunk. Way too drunk.

Y/N cleared her throat. “So, I’m gonna go. Thanks again for the- well, everything.”

She turned to leave and Jensen sprang up, teetering on the edge of the bed.

“Don’t-”

She looked back at him and Jensen’s breath fell away. He didn’t know what to say, or how to ask her to stay, he just knew he wasn’t ready to let her go.

“I really should get to bed,” she said softly. “My room is like ten floors down and halfway across the hotel. I gotta get out of the penthouse before they catch me.” She winked and Jensen shook his head.

“Don’t go yet.” Gently, he patted the bed beside him and looked up with a prayer in his green eyes.

Y/N balked, starting and then stopping on the plush carpet. Her mind sternly told her to leave, but her body and heart had other plans.

She sank down beside him and they lay on their backs staring at the dark ceiling.

It wasn’t the first time they’d found themselves in such a position. Over the last few months, the pair had become good friends. Meeting through a mutual friend, Jensen found himself smitten by Y/N’s voice and easy-going songwriting, and Y/N quickly fell into rhythm beside him and Steve, eventually working on their latest album. She sang backup and played the tambourine like a hippie chick from the seventies and Jensen loved every second of it. She added a lightness to the new songs that he couldn’t find by himself.

Y/N enjoyed his company and his amazing sense of storytelling. Conversation flowed easily over black coffee and the occasional cocktail; inside jokes were soon created, and their chemistry onstage was obvious. Didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous and his voice made her thighs clench.

Still, they were just friends.

It was a line they couldn’t cross, shouldn’t cross, wouldn’t cross.

“That afterparty was nuts, huh?” he laughed, settling down with a hand on his stomach.

Y/N nodded in the dark. “Yeah. I haven’t drunk this much in a while.” As if on cue, a hiccup rocked her body. “I really shouldn’t do shots. Like, ever.”

Jensen’s laugh shook the bed. “I don’t know, you didn’t need much pushing.”

“I said I shouldn’t do shots,” she laughed. “Not that I don’t want to.”

He turned to look at her and sighed. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I-” Her cheeks burned under his gaze. “Nah. You’re just drunk.”

“Maybe.” Again, he rolled onto his side and crooked his elbow beneath his head. “But you are.”

Embarrassed but floating on the excitement of the night and the tone in his voice, she rolled to face him, tucking her hands under her cheek. She looked up with innocent eyes. “Yeah?”

The flash of a soft smile, a peek at his pink tongue while sweeping across his bottom lip, wetting the cracked skin.

“Absolutely.”

Y/N felt her breath catch deep in her chest. It swirled around her heart as it struggled to beat. “Well,” she whispered, barely able to move her drunken tongue, “if I am, you are… more so… or something better, even.”

Jensen laughed and the bed shook with his shoulders. “You’re pretty drunk, too.”

She bit her lip and shrugged. “Twins!”

He calmed and dropped his head, mirroring her pose. “Twins.”

If she stared any deeper into his emerald eyes, Y/N knew she’d never get out of there. She swallowed hard and worked up the will to push herself up.

It was better to go before anything happened; better to leave and dream forever about ‘what if’ than to stay and regret it.

He felt it, too. That draw, that pull, the internal tug that inched him ever closer to her. It had always been there, always hanging overhead like some invisible net about to drop and trap them together. Maybe the shots were a bad idea, but looking at her now, so soft, so beautiful, with lips waiting to be kissed and curves begging to be held, every idea seemed like a good one.

Jensen’s long exhale passed over her lips and any thought of decency or morals left her head.

He broke the stillness, words snaking from his lips to wind around her body like electrified tendrils.

“What would you do if I asked you to kiss me?”

Shock froze her brain and Y/N blinked at him, confused but absolutely certain.

“I would.”

His cheeks glowed like a rose.

Y/N dipped her chin and then looked up, coy but desperate. “Are you asking me?”

Another lick of his lips, a swift inhale.

“I am.”

Y/N kept her eyes open the whole time, holding her breath as she leaned in and pushed her lips gently against his. His eyes fell closed, long lashes brushing hers as he tipped his head to the side and parted his lips. Their tongues met and Jensen let out a moan that finally shut her eyes. She licked deep into his mouth and exhaled, breathing into him, giving everything she had.

His left hand hovered over her shoulder. Her fingers tentatively danced over the thick muscle of his throat. She shifted closer, scooting into him without thinking about it. When he broke the kiss to roll over her, she let out a whisper that broke his mind.

“Jensen…”

His hand slid down her body and locked around her knee, dragging it up as he slit his thick leg against her sex. She clenched down on the meat of his thigh and whimpered at the heat of him, the weight he let fall over her. She cupped his cheek and licked at his lips; clawed a hand through his hair when he sucked at her hungry mouth.

“Fuck.”

His moan made her shiver and Jensen rocked his entire body up into her, moving like a wave against a silken shore. When his palm fit over her breast, she arched her back, pressing harder against him.

His fingers closed around her budding nipple and Y/N dropped her hand to his jeans, spreading her fingers around his quickly growing erection.

He growled.

She moaned.

They froze.

Jensen pulled back, easing air back into the space between them. He shook his head gently to clear his salacious thoughts. “We… we shouldn’t.”

Y/N nodded, quickly agreeing. “I know.” She dropped her leg from his side and pushed herself back, sliding up on the mattress. “I um…”

“Yeah.” Jensen sighed and ran a hand down his face, symbolically brushing away the lust that refused to ease inside of him.

“I know we shouldn’t,” she confessed, staring at the wetness on his plump lips. “But… I’m not ready to go.”

Jensen sighed. In relief of frustration, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he wanted to rip her clothes off with his teeth and kiss every inch that he could reach. He wanted to drink her down like the bourbon they’d shared and seer the memory into his soul.

“Maybe…” He fell forward onto his hands and knees and crawled closer. “What if…” He caged her in with strong arms set beside her head and bowed legs hugging her hips. “Just one night,” he said, “just one kiss...”

Her heart raced; her pussy throbbed. “I don’t know.”

She was trembling and he could feel the fight inside of her.

“OK.” He smiled gently and rolled away, resuming his place by her side, looking up at the ceiling. “Then we can just lie here.” Gently, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I won’t do anything that you don’t ask me to do. Deal?”

Her breathing calmed. “Deal.”

A sweet kiss upon her knuckles; a gentle sigh.

“Good.”

He tried to drop her hand, but she held on, pushing her fingers through his until their palms were locked together and hanging between them. That was the space they couldn’t fill, the air they couldn’t share.

Y/N let out a heavy breath and clutched his hand tight.

Jensen swallowed hard and caressed her hand with his thumb.

“It really was a great show,” she said, clearing her throat and trying to move on.

He nodded. “Sure was. Well, there were a few spots I fucked up but-”

“No one noticed. Trust me.”

“You think?”

She laughed and rolled onto her side, dropping his hand to face him. “Jen- you could get up on that stage, singing off-key and farting into a bucket for an hour and they’d all still love you.”

“You saying I suck?”

“What?”

Jensen turned and curled his arm under his head. “If they love me no matter what, how do you know I’m any good?”

His question was real, but there was a hint of a tease in his eye. He was shy, but his confidence was eternally growing.

“I know,” she explained, leaning closer, “because I have ears.” He licked his lips and her breath caught. “...And eyes…” His lips parted gently and the green she so loved glazed over with renewed lust. “And…” Her heart was pounding. The smell of him, the heat, the taste of him still on her lips- it was too much.

“And?”

Her head was reeling. She closed her eyes.

“Kiss me.”

Jensen pulled in a deep breath. “What?”

“Kiss me,” she said again, whispering her plea into that forbidden space between them. “Please.”

He hesitated; fingers pulsing against his thigh. “Are you asking me?”

Beautiful eyes opened and Jensen sank into them. She smiled gently and nodded.

“I’m asking you- Jensen. Ross. Ackles- to kiss me.”

A wave of calmness washed over him and he cocked his head to the side. He cupped her cheek with tender adoration as he licked deep into her mouth. Y/N melted once more, feeling his fingers burn her skin and his tongue infect her with unrelenting desire. She leaned into him, pressing her body flat against his, and accepted each kiss like it would be the last.

“God, I love kissing you,” he whispered. His eyes were fluttering, his thoughts churning, trapping him somewhere between love and rigid lust.

She could only hum in response and let her lips run across his shadowed jaw. She licked at his ear, nibbled at his throat, sucked a hint of a mark on his collarbone. Jensen rolled his hips unconsciously, already aching and half-hard.

“Touch me,” she moaned, reaching for his empty hand. “Please…”

Another line was crossed; more permission was granted. Jensen obliged without hesitation. He set his hand on her hip and teased his fingers beneath her shirt, snaking his touch across her bare skin. She shivered and grabbed his wrist, dragging his palm up to her breast. He turned the cup of her bra down and plucked at her nipple, earning a heavy moan as a reward.

“Your hands are so warm…”

He smirked and buried his face in the crook of her neck, kissing the soft skin on her shoulder. “Because you got me all worked up.”

“I did nothing,” she teased, slipping a hand down his firm chest.

Before he could retort, she had popped the button on his jeans and tugged the zipper down. She struggled against the belt but decided to leave it alone, instead pushing her hand into the denim. She lay her hand flat against his cock and his entire body jolted with pleasure.

“You’re warm here too…”

Jensen bit his lip. “Yeah…”

She traced his length and hummed. “And… big.”

He stiffed instantly against her palm and Jensen returned to her mouth, kissing her deeper with each swipe of her palm over his erection.

“Want you so bad,” he mumbled, curling himself over to lift her shirt with his teeth. He licked a hot line across her chest, teasing the crest of each mountain before falling into the valley. Kisses marked his path and Y/N gasped in pure pleasure when he locked his mouth around her nipple.

“God…”

His tongue swirled and she melted.

Her fingers curled and he moaned.

“Fuck, Y/N…”

She moaned in response, obsessed with the way her name poured from his slick lips. She stroked him harder, awkwardly trapped by his belt and the tight denim. “Take… take this off,” she begged.

He lingered for a moment before tearing himself away and rolling onto his back to shed his jeans.

Y/N took the break to do the same, yanking her clothes away until she was down to her bra and panties.

Jensen whistled when he saw her, barely able to pull his shirt over his head, afraid to lose a minute of her body. “Damn…”

Her cheeks burned. She shied away, wrapping her arms around her soft belly, but Jensen wouldn’t let her hide. He fell back to kissing her, gently lifting her hands off so he could adore every curve.

“Fucking beautiful,” he whispered, crawling down her body to peel the thin cotton from her hips.

He kissed her belly, nibbled on her hip, exhaled slowly against her aching pussy.

“I…” She twitched as his lips grazed her inner thigh. “Jensen…” He ran his tongue softly along the ridge of her sensitive lips. “Please…”

Green eyes lifted as he listened for his cue. “Yes?”

She trembled. “Lick me.”

A moan rumbled in the back of his throat and Jensen gave in to his hunger. He pressed his two fingers into her and set his thumb and pinky on either side of her clit, gently spreading her open. She whimpered at the feeling, gasped when his tongue flickered over her and clawed at his shoulders when he sucked.

Her hips jerked with every thrust of his thick wrist and the pleasure was overwhelming. She clenched down on his fingers, throbbing harder than she thought possible, and then shoved him away. She squirmed from his grasp and sat up, panting against the pillows.

Jensen watched her go with a glistening face and perfect, swollen lips. He crawled to her, hands and knees dipping into the mattress.

Y/N bit her lip and grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to take her place on the pillows. She licked at his lips and wrapped her small hand around his cock, marveling at the thickness. She stroked him a few times and watched his eyes roll back. His freckled face was washed in frustrated bliss and he dug his teeth into his lip, holding back a pathetic whimper.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” she whispered.

He opened his eyes and took her in. “Need you.” His voice crackled and she shivered. “Please.”

Her mouth flooded with desire and Y/N dropped down to let it seep out over the tip of his cock. She wet her fist and stroked him slowly, guided by the tight-lipped moans he let slip. When she pushed her tongue flat against his vein, his entire body quaked and she hummed in awe.

“So hot, Jensen-”

His thighs trembled and she sealed her lips tight around him.

“Fuck!”

Her hot mouth pushed down his shaft; her tongue flicked against the sensitive patch of nerves beneath the tip. She swallowed hard and took him down her throat, gagging in the most beautiful way.

Jensen bucked his hips into her and slid a hand up her arm to tangle in her hair. She let him lead, keeping her mouth locked around him while he pulled her face up and down over his cock. Saliva poured from her mouth and she moaned against the wetness, slurping his delicious erection.

About to burst, Jensen released his hold and Y/N pulled back, crouching on her knees and squeezing a circle around the base of his cock.

“Jensen…”

Panting, he lifted his head, blinking at her. “Yes?”

Her entire body was throbbing; her blood screaming for him. She swallowed softly and whispered, “fuck me.”

There was no need to clarify this time; no checking to make sure she was serious.

Jensen was up and on her in a second, turning her onto her back with a thick kiss that made her body drop limply beneath him.

He lifted her right leg high, set it to rest on his muscular shoulder, and lightly held her hips. He stared into her eyes while he penetrated her sex; basking in the glow as her jaw dropped in a silent cry.

Every thrust was like magic that weaved golden fire through her system, sparking every nerve to stand on end, waiting for the inevitable. She held tight, digging her nails into his forearms; held her breath while he rolled his hips, clenched around him as she started to fall.

“That’s it,” he whispered, heart pounding away in his chest. “I can feel it…”

Y/N vibrated below him and let out a gasping cry as she came.

“There,” he grit, thrusting faster. “That’s it, baby. So. Fucking. Good.” Every word was struck through with a snap of his hips as he worked her through it, keeping the flame ablaze until she couldn’t take it any longer.

Out of breath and pulsing with bliss, Y/N lay a gentle hand over his heart and let his name slip from her lips.

“Jensen…”

His body curled inwards as he came; emptying into her with another brisk thrust. His grunt was deep and echoed through the silent room, filling their heads with guilt once the afterglow faded.

They lay tangled together, her hand on his heart, his arms tight around her. She kept her head on his shoulder, listening to his breath as it slowed. He smelled like whiskey and sex, sweat and faded cologne. She took a deep breath and sealed the essence of him away, tucking the memory behind her heart.

There was no discussion, no congratulatory pillow talk. Anything they could say would only make things worse.

“That was incredible.”

“I’ve wanted you for so fucking long.”

“I might be falling in love with you.”

Once more, they lay there staring at the ceiling. Twice, Jensen cleared his throat, desperate to break the silence, but there was nothing he could say that would come out right. No way to take back what they’d done, and the truth was- he didn’t want to. Damn the consequences, there was nowhere he’d rather be, no way he would ever regret what they’d done.

Y/N felt an old familiar pang in her chest and her eyes started to burn with tears. Before they fell, she sucked in a calming breath and pushed herself up.

“I gotta get going,” she said sadly. “It’s late.”

The look on her face nearly broke him. Jensen sat up on his elbows and shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Jensen-”

Desperate, he took her hand and placed it back over his heart. She could feel his ache. It was the same as hers, and she sighed.

Closing his eyes, he nodded solemnly. “I know I just- I’m not ready to let you go.”

A tear fell but he kissed it away.

His heart ached but she soothed him.

Another hour would do no harm.

Another night.

Another day.

Another secret to keep.

[damagdsnow]

Fix my reputation

Pairing: young!Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

Summary: You and Coryo are together for mutual benefits, he needs a well known woman by his side to look vulnerable and loving during the presidential elections and you need your reputation to be fixed after your unforgivable scandal.

Tag: fake dating, slow burn, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, manipulative/soft Snow, strong and independent reader (as she should), fluff, angst, power play, smut, fingering, thigh riding, switching sub/dom, degradation, denied orgasm, piv, dirty talk, overstimulation, oral (fem/male receiving), praise

Chapter 1, chapter 2;

aesthetic chapter one, aesthetic chapter two;

Tw: Snow being Snow, mention of alcohol, panic/anxiety attack, mention of blood, mention of parent death, physical aggression (not detailed and not from Snow)

Word count: 11.3k

note: before reading this I recommend you to read the first chapter here. Also, thank you so much for all the love and support on chapter one I didn’t expect all of this, I love you guys ❤️

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

The first time you had met Coriolanus was when Dr. Gaul had announced he was going to be her apprentice Gamemaker during the next Hunger Games.

At that time, you got a job as a health advisor, essentially you monitored tributes' vital signs and whether they were injured, you formulated unique medicine so mentors and sponsors could help their favorites heal faster and be a step ahead of the others. You were used to stitch wounds, examining patients, making prescriptions. This was a whole new thing to you. Dr. Gaul said to you that you were one of the most qualified doctors in that department, this is the reason why she pressured you to ‘amaze’ her.

”When I read your qualifications I was shocked to learn you were looking for employment,” was the first thing Dr. Gaul said to you when she requested to meet you.

You were in her laboratory, a bright room filled with gruesome creatures, dead and alive. She was standing in front of you, with her voluminous curly hair and her reddish long tunic, while she was feeding some sorta of genetically modified fish.

“I was looking for some thrilling experience,” you started fidgeting your fingers, “making me useful for the good of Panem.”

You practiced saying these words many times before meeting her, what were you supposed to say? That you desperately needed a job? That as soon as you found another position you would quit immediately?

”Your idea to formulate a drug that would help tributes in the arena?” With a long tweezer she dropped a pink cube in the small pool, ”so original,” she smiled while feeding the fishes with more cubes.

“You know what it means right? The games will last longer, people spending money on their helpless and injured tributes, mentors fighting to get the best sponsor,” she continued, her icy eyes were staring at you, “this is going to revolutionise the games.”

“I’m glad you liked my proposal,” you looked down, wondering if it was better to make eye contact with her or watch those horrific creatures with long fangs and thorny tails.

“Liked? I absolutely adore your way of thinking,” she put the tweezer back on a metal tray. “No one was able to surprise me since–” she paused and you looked back at her, ”do you know Coriolanus Snow? You two would get along well.”

At that time you wondered who he could be. Coriolanus Snow? His name sounded familiar to you. Only when Dr. Gaul introduced him to the department as an apprentice, you recognised his face.

You both graduated from the Academy, he was just a year older than you, and during the tenth annual Hunger Games his name was popular amongst students. Even though you went to the same school, you had never talked to him. Until a couple of months before the reaping, Dr. Gaul let you and other members work in her lab to do research. Of course he was there too, and chance had it that you were paired up with Coriolanus, sharing the same desk in the library section.

You could see him sitting opposite to you, his side was impressively tidy, just a black leather notepad and a book. Your half was full of microbiology volumes, agar plates and creased post-it. Coriolanus was too focused on his writing that he never gazed over you, on the other hand you were distracted by his presence. You remembered him differently in the Academy, his hair was slightly longer than before, his facial features were more defined, but the same cold aura surrounded him.

You felt kinda intimidated by him.

You’ve heard colleagues saying how brilliant he was: he won the Plinth prize in his senior year, he graduated with honors at advanced military strategies and he now had a high position as the right hand man of the pretentious Head Gamemaker.

He intrigued you.

You thought you were not the smartest person in the room. There was something in him, probably his confident behaviour while he was writing on his notebook, as if he was superior to you. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, you thought of ways to start a conversation, not a small talk, but something smart to impress him.

Your heart was beating fast and you finally figured what to say, “Mr. Snow I found a better technique for–“

“What makes you think you can talk to me?” He cut you off while still writing in his notebook.

His words stunned you. The conversation you imagined in your head was now gone, what could you say at this point? “I just wanted–” you stuttered

“Don’t bother, I don’t want to know.”

Your admiration for him slowly faded each day. The way he corrected you every time you had a proposal, pointing out your mistakes in front of everyone, or when he made you work till night in the laboratory to perfectionate your research. You tolerated that, you were used to hard work and mean teachers in your university years, but sometimes he didn’t even show the slightest remorse on things he would say about the districts. About you, indirectly.

Every year on reaping day you thought that it could have been you. Your name in that little piece of paper, read out loud changing your destiny. If it wasn’t for your father’s role in the Dark Days, you could have been in that arena yourself, instead of having the privilege to control tributes’ lives in a cozy chair.

Your dad was an engineer, more a genius mastermind who designed and built high tech weapons. Specifically incendiary bombs, which were crucial to stop the rebels from invading the Capitol during the last year of the war. The project was so successful that he obtained an honorary medal from President Ravenstill himself. He was able to buy a place in the Capitol, for the only purpose to give you and your sister a better future, and you actually lived in luxury compared to your old life back in the districts. However, your father did not side with the president’s political view, still he had to conform to it or he would probably be considered a rebel.

He played the game, to stay alive. Until he was not part of that show anymore.

“I only did it for you and Darla, I don’t care about heavens or hell. As long as my family is safe, I regret nothing of the atrocities I’ve done,” were the words your father wrote to you in a letter, before being killed.

They had never been clear about the dynamics of his homicide, but you were sure it was not an incident as someone would say. The Capitol killed him, they took your dad away from you, the only person you admired, that never let you down.

Your blood was from the districts, even if you’ve lived all your life in the Capitol, you couldn’t change your origins. Coriolanus reminded you of that, with his despicable comments about how ‘horrible and disgusting’ the people from the districts were. As if you didn’t exist to him, you were not a person from his perspective. But he did not know that, no one knew you were not from the Capitol, it was only written on your official documents.

“The games are meant to remind us all who we truly are,” was something Coriolanus often said, bullshit you thought, for you the Games were an insult to humanity and civilisation, cruel entertainment for empty people.

Coriolanus Snow, such a brilliant mind but wicked thoughts.

At the same time, you were not better than him. You worked for the Head Gamemaker and indirectly supported the unnatural destiny of those children. It was easier blaming the government, the bad guys, than admitting to be part of the corrupted system you truly despised. Your excuse was that you had no choice, and partially it was true, but can money win over your beliefs? Were you so desperate to bend your morality just not to be jobless and not respectable? You were acting as your father: were you a fighter or survivor?

Little did you know that your worst nightmares were going to haunt you soon. After the incident you were unemployed, with a bad reputation and with a man you hated.

Check, check, check.

You woke up at lunch time for the third day in a row, it was like being a child again. But there wasn’t your mom taking care of you, your dad making your favorite dish or your big sister spoiling you with presents. You couldn’t ignore your responsibilities and let the adults do the big things for you. You were the adult now, but if you kept self destroying your life this way, it was like everything you’ve done vanished away. Giving up was not an option, or to put things clear, it was the easier possibility amongst the other challenging beginnings.

One of these included him.

Coriolanus was not a beginning, he was more like someone you bump into when you are in a rush, someone who wasn’t supposed to be there but that let you miss the train, made you change your destination. However, the end of the journey was a mystery, with him nothing was clear from the start.

The gala was proof that you couldn’t handle that world, it felt like everything you did made your situation in a much worse position. If it wasn’t for Coriolanus, you would’ve busted into tears on live tv, he was used to that world, lying so naturally that he convinced them.

Cameras, flashes, interviews. Not exactly what you have been preparing for all your life.

You didn’t want to remember what happened that night. Your mind replayed memories as if it was a film, but you were trying to stop it. The dancing? The photographers?

No, the kiss.

The thought of his hands on your skin, his hair on your hands, his lips against yours. The more you pushed that image away, the less it faded from your mind. How could you let him do something like that? You knew that letting him in again would only bring more chaos into your life, but at the same time, you needed to fix your mess and he was your solution.

Also, you didn’t want to acknowledge that all the attention was something you needed. Not the bad press, the misleading articles and intrusive photographers. It was the care for you, the way he defended you, the warmth you didn’t feel in a long time. You knew it was fake, just a facade, but that pretending was healing an empty spot you have been hiding for ages.

When you checked your mail, you recognised the reddish envelope. It was from Snow manor.

"Be ready at 7 pm, someone is going to pick you up.’ signed by Iris Davebonn.

Of course it was not over.

He had a plan, and he didn’t give up easily. You also had a plan, he was not the only one with something to prove, but was he the only way out to your hell? Or was he another villain in your tragedy? You had nothing to lose but everything to gain.

Coriolanus is the forbidden apple, the fruit I shall never be tempted to desire.

You opened the fridge, still sleepy but hungry. For your breakfast you had a couple of options: water and rotten eggs or rotten eggs and water. So as always you decided to steal from your neighbor’s tangerines tree, you could easily pick the fruits from your window, the advantages of living on the first floor. You knew that the old lady next door noticed your thefts, but she hated you either way so at least you gave her a reason to. Since you didn’t have a monthly paycheck anymore, you had to live with your remaining savings, but soon you were left with nothing with bills and rent to pay.

Actually, Dr. Gaul never fired you, she wasn’t as upset as Capitol people, she even congratulated you because this way The Hunger Games were discussed more on tv and newspapers. For her, the incident was a perfect strategy to make the Games popular. She even thought you did that intentionally, because in her distorted view,”it was funny seeing their faces when for the first time, a 12 years old boy from district eleven won”. Against all odds, the unknown tribute without sponsors and hope to make it alive, won the games because “I killed everybody else.”

Not as funny as she thought.

Eventually, you couldn't handle the pressure anymore and you quit. The last time you saw her she persuaded you to be by her side the next year, “if you did that by accident, I wonder what you could do purposely.” You never considered that offer, you didn’t have to work there in the first place. If only you could go back, maybe… Maybe, everything would’ve gone differently.

The world fell apart when you heard the sound of cannon in that room. Everybody was cheering for that girl from district two, the favorite, the one that won Capitol’s heart during the interviews. The lovely Rea, the brave tribute that was bit by an horrific dog. That creature cannot be defined as a ‘dog’, more like a venomous lion with a crocodile mouth. Your role was to make a medicine that could heal her wound. Sponsors asked it, her mentor was willing to pay whatever price to save her, the Capitol was betting every penny on her.

The pressure was such that you mistakenly switched two drugs and gave her the other for the boy from District three. Fatal mistake.

You were their only hope but you became the death of them.

Relying on somebody else was the last thing you wanted, especially if it was Coriolanus Snow. You didn’t want to need him. But there you go, on your way to his house. Again.

An avox opened the door for you and silently you followed her to the living room. Iris and Coriolanus were both standing near a star shaped glass table surrounded by small couches, you wondered what their conversation was about because they stopped talking the moment you walked in.

“Speaking of the devil,” Coriolanus said looking at you, he was wearing a white shirt and black pants, his hair was messy as if he woke up a couple of minutes ago.

”There she is,” Iris stepped towards you, opening her arms, “the new star of Panem,” she hugged you like you were an old friend she hadn’t seen in a while, it didn’t feel as awkward as you thought, it felt sincere.

”I think you meant a fallen star,” you laughed hugging her back.

”Honey, the gala was a success!” She said with a warm smile.

You perceived his blue eyes gazing at you, the same look he gave you when you were walking with him arm by arm at the gala.

Why is he staring? Am I wearing something inappropriate? Or is it just the indecipherable look he always has?

“Did you read the newspaper?” Iris pointed at the glass table in front of you but you were distracted by a bowl full of pastries to even pay attention to her.

You leaned forward to read the page but your sight was too blurry. The tangerines were the only thing you ate since this morning, not really an energetic meal. You sat on the small couch and you put the newspaper close to your face, nose almost touching the page, squinting to have a better view.

“Are you blind?” Coriolanus said with an annoyed tone, he tore away the paper from your hands.

”I don’t have my glasses with me,” you lied, you have never worn glasses in your entire life.

You rubbed your temples trying to see clearly again and you swiftly took what seemed to be a pink cookie from the tray on the table. What flavour was that? You tried to make a straight face while chewing that sugary stuff, at least your body was eating something.

“To make things short— they think we are the couple of the moment,” Coriolanus started while reading the page, “that everybody was shocked— bla bla,” he rapidly said, “oh and they mentioned my name four times!”

“No, Mr. Snow, if you have to do something you have to do it right,” Iris intervened, taking the newspaper from his hands.

She sat down on the couch near yours and started reciting the article, reading word by word.

“Is love in the air? In Capitol City probably is.” She read the first line,“what a great title isn’t it?” Iris commented

“Go on or we are going to stay here all night,” Coriolanus said.

You looked at him, he was standing up making you feel inferior, like a shadow looming over you.

“After the unsettling events happened in the last Hunger Games, there is finally some hope in our community. The aspiring president Coriolanus Snow showed up with someone not-so-new in the latest gala before the presidential campaign.”

“ ‘not so new’ so kind of them—” you said and he shushed you. How dare he?

“She studied medicine and has worked with the Head Gamemaker for the past year. Rumor has it that for some kind of incident, she was the cause of the premature death of two tributes.”

Iris took a breath. “Unexpectedly, last night Coriolanus proudly walked with her for the very first time in public. Both dressed in white, representing the noble Snow name, they conquered the attention of the media and the crowd. Are they the couple of the moment?” She smiled while looking at you, “the best part is about to come.”

“If we are basing the answers on the way they look at each other, they definitely stole our hearts. We are looking forward to seeing how this unexpected love will grow.”

You laughed, that was too corny for you, was it possible that they truly believed that little show you made?

”Will Coriolanus Snow win the election the same way he won her heart? Right now we are in love with both of them.” Iris finished.

“Did they really write an article about our possible love story?” You took another cookie, green this time, “they really are bored people.”

”You should be happy they didn’t talk about what happened in the arena,” Coriolanus said but you couldn’t see him, he was standing behind you.

“Well, they mentioned it anyway,” you said while chewing that lemon pastry, or was it mint? For a moment you thought it was better starving than eating whatever thing it was.

”Thanks to me they probably will give you a chance,” he said.

”The tone they used– it was like they think you are doing charity by being with me.”

“Well it kinda is–”

”Oh shut up,” you stand up, turning to him, “your name has never been this many times in a newspaper.” You were close to him, and even if you were not sitting anymore, you felt small standing there facing him.

His eyes were still examining you, as if you were a book written in a language he couldn’t read.

“You two look like siblings fighting over meaningless things,” Iris said, stepping in, getting in the middle of you.

“See? Even Iris thinks you are being overly dramatic.”

You fought the urge to answer back, did he just call you over-dramatic?

“Honey, look who's talking,” Iris said pointing a finger at him, “you are not really easy to work with,” then she turned over to you, “in just one day people fell for your fairytale, imagine what you can do in a month.”

“Do you really think this can work?” You avoided looking at him behind her shoulder.

“They don’t care about what you did, you are just another distraction from their empty life,” she explained to you, “they need something else to talk about.”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, there are more important things,” Coriolanus said, “such as the presidential elections.”

”Is there something else you can say instead of politics and fame?”

”What do you want me to tell you? My sad story about when I mixed some drugs in the laboratory?” He stepped closer, ”oh no, that is something you always talk about.”

”I liked you better when you ignored me,” you said remembering the first time you tried to have a conversation with him.

“Stop please,” Iris said, “you two should bond more, this atmosphere is making me wanna retire early,” she touched her hair, orange this time, “maybe you will like each other.” She walked away from your sight.

“It's going to be tiring enough pretending to like him in public,” now there was just the glass table separating you from him.

“So this is a yes, you are going to do this,” his face lightened up.

“It seems this charade it’s working,” you said convincing yourself that was your best chance of getting your reputation back.

Did you just sign a pact with the devil?

He is the forbidden apple. But it doesn’t mean I can’t just play with it.

“Before I forget,” you heard Iris voice coming from the door entrance, “next week dinner with the Holdens and Suncots,” she was putting her yellow coat on, “they gladly accepted the invite here,” then she put her gloves on, “see you tomorrow—oh and try to bond you two,” she pointed a finger at him before closing the door and leaving you alone with Coriolanus.

You looked at the clock above the coat hanger and it was getting late, but you had nowhere else to be at that moment. No one waiting for you at home, no one expecting your call, nothing to do the next day.

“Tigris is going to design another dress for you,” he said referring to the dinner.

“Can’t I just wear something I already have?” The thought of him deciding what color and style your dress had was not something you tolerated.

“Of course not— do you dine here or?” That didn’t sound like an invite, more as if he was suggesting you go home.

“So kind, I’ll pass,” you said with a sarcastic tone.

”I asked because you almost devoured the entire jar of pastries.” He smiled, waiting for your reaction.

”For the record, they are tasteless.”

He rolled his eyes, “the car is waiting for you outside,” he turned his back and walked towards the kitchen.

”I can walk, I don’t need your personal driver,”

Your words stopped him right in his tracks, ”what if you get lost? How could I do without you?” He said jokingly, turning over to see you, “and it’s fifteen minutes away, in the dark— don’t be a child and go by car, you’ll get used to it.”

You didn’t answer, not like you had something to say. Of course you would’ve accepted the ride, your apartment was too far from his house, you just wanted to irritate him. Maybe you were not so different from Coriolanus, you were playing the same game.

Car rides make you recall only good memories. Your dad got a car when you were little, it was gray and smaller than this one, and he used to drive you to school everyday. Until you got into university and you moved to your current house, it was ten minutes from university so you got used to walking.

The engine stopped and you stepped out of the car, it was cold outside and you wished you had heating at home, a luxury you couldn’t afford anymore.

You fumbled with the keys trying to open the door, you were freezing and you rushed because you heard some steps. You didn’t want to have a conversation with your neighbor, she’ll probably just scold you about the stolen tangerines and how loud you shut the door when you go out, the old same story. You finally walked inside  but someone blocked you from closing the door. It was a young man, probably in his thirties, he had a tiny recorder on his hand and you immediately clicked. 

“Hi, I’m from Capitol’s People Magazine, I wanted to ask you some questions about your relationship with Coriolanus Snow,” he said pointing you to the black device.

”I’m sorry— for interviews, talk to my manager,” you said with a kind tone.

Iris suggested that every time journalists asked you questions you did not want to answer, you had to say those words, and now was the case. You slowly closed the door but the man put his feet in between.

”How could the heir of one of the most influential figures be with a corrupted woman like you?” He looked at you with eyes full of anger.

Corrupted woman, this was new to you. What was the correct answer to that? 

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled while trying to close the door by pushing it against his feet but he was not intending to leave you alone.

He aggressively tried to wedge his foot into the door, forcing it to stay open while he continued to badger you with invasive questions about the gala.

”Are you planning on ruining his image while stealing his money?” He reached your arm and grabbed it. 

“What’s wrong with you?” His grip was getting tighter as you tried shoving him. 

He was strong enough to smash the door open, stepping inside your house. With his hand on your wrist, he roughly pushed your body against the wall, your back facing him as he stood behind you, your heart pounding outside your chest.  

“You are just a crazy bitch,” he whispered, “you think you can fool them but are a disgrace for Panem,” he pushed your head against the wall, one side of your face hitting the coarse plaster making your skin burn. 

“Get off me! ” you shouted, struggling against his grip.

In response he hit your head again against the wall. You squinted your eyes in pain as a tear streamed down your face, you felt powerless, everything happened so fast.

“Tell me what you want from me,” you said with a weak voice.

“After all you did, you should shut the fuck up and do what you are asked to do,” he put his hand on your scalp as he pushed you harder against the wall. 

You screamed like you never did in your entire life, someone had to hear your cry for help, right? But he was quick to cover your mouth with his palm and that was the perfect occasion for you to bite his skin. He kept his hand on your mouth while he choked on his own screams. 

Your muffled howl echoed in the room but no one seemed to hear you. Or so you thought. Someone grabbed the man from his collar and pushed him away from you. It was the driver, his tall figure was now beant down to beat that man. You were paralyzed, now your back was against the wall and your lungs finally breathing, but your body was unable to answer your brain’s orders. 

”Run!” The driver screamed at you while punching the man one more time, “go in the car! Run!” 

You ran towards the car but your legs felt weak and your head too heavy. You opened the car door and you laid down in the back seats. What the hell just happened? 

What if he came back? What if next time there is not someone to save you? Your anxiety grew inside your chest and you kept yourself from crying. 

“Are you okay, Miss?” The driver asked breathlessly as he violently closed the front car door with a rush, “should I take you to the hospital?” He was looking at you, he had an old scar on his cheek that you didn’t notice before.

You shook your head, “I just need water” you mouthed, trying to maintain a regular breathing.

“Thank you for saving me,” you whispered.

You looked at him through the rearview mirror, his eyes reflecting the street lights while he was driving as if nothing happened, as if his bloody knuckles on the steering wheel were not hurting.

After minutes that seemed hours he talked, “It is my duty,” he said, “Mr. Snow wouldn’t have forgiven me.”

Coriolanus was in his study preparing a speech for the next interview, he had to be careful to pick the perfect words, to speak with the right tone, and to make the adequate facial expressions. Nothing was left to case. Every single action had to be meticulously studied and calculated.

It was his specialty. Playing with words and making people fall in love with his charm. He did it naturally, molding people the shape he wanted. Because he had to have everything under his control, his power, his eyes.

For the first time he was struggling. He was stuck on the opening line and he didn’t know how to continue. Sleepless nights and alcohol were the usual in the past week. This was one of the nights. Locked in his study until he wrote something of that speech, depriving himself from sleep.

Coriolanus was walking around the room, fidgeting with a pen on his long fingers. Until his mind-wandering was stopped by a firm knock on the door, annoyed it could be an Avox, he ignored it. But the knocking didn’t stop.

He let out a sigh as he unlocked the doorknob, “how many times do I have to tell–” to his surprise, the driver showed up at his door, “Virma, what are you doing here?”

Coriolanus soon found the answer to his question by looking over the driver’ shoulder. You were hidden behind his back, like a hurt animal scared of its fate. You didn’t want to come here, like a lost child brought back home. But where were you supposed to be? What place instead of his?

Your ruffled hair, your smeared makeup and your empty look. It didn’t take long for him to understand something happened. A sense of anger grew inside of him. This was not written in a script, it was not meant to happen and when things did not go according to plan, Coriolanus lost his composure, he could have been unpredictable.

His face darkened. He grabbed your arm and he dragged you in his study, along with Virma. You felt his hand on your wrist, his touch was something familiar to you, maybe gentle, as if he was actually worried about you. He pushed Virma to the side and closed the door behind him, casting you both in the dim light of his opulent study.

You were now facing him, his expression was different from an hour ago. His hand traveled to your face, his fingers lifting your chin as he leaned to have a better view of you. The left side of your face was scraped, fresh cuts burned on your temple as droplets of blood trailed your skin. Coriolanus traced his fingertips on your bruised skin and you flinched, instantly regretting the movement as a flash of pain shot through your head, but he was not rough like that man. He loosened his grip on your arm, his eyes softening as he took in the sight of your injuries. He was delicate, as if he was touching something fragile. 

You were too focused on his expression to even pay attention to your sore skin. His knitted brows, his parted lips and his concerned look.

“Who did this to you?” His voice barely above a whisper, he glared down at you as he inspected your figure, as if he was looking for other scratches he missed.

You could almost feel the tension radiating from him.

His hand was now on your neck, fingers touching the back of your head, “a journalist, I don’t–” you looked down, “he was asking questions but I–"

“Mr. Snow, I think I know who he is ,” the driver said and for a moment you forgot he was in that room, “he is Lucius Cliffhard' son.”

"Cliffhard' son? The father is running for president why would he–” Coriolanus didn’t finish his sentence and he looked back at you, “thank you for your service Virma,” his hand left your neck leaving a warm spot, “we will talk about it later.”

You heard the door closing and now you were left alone with him. You could barely stand up, your adrenaline was leaving your body and your anxiety was taking its place.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” he walked towards the opposite side of the room, looking for something in the small bathroom of his study.

You were standing in the shiny black floor, your heart was pounding so loud you could not hear your weak voice, “he probably was waiting for me to come home because the moment I opened the door he uhm—“ you stuttered, "started asking questions but I didn't answer, so he pushed me against the wall and his hand was on my mouth—“ you paused, ”he hit my head and—“ you felt a lump on your throat and you hoped he didn’t hear you.

His steps were again echoing the room, his figure walking closer to you. He had a piece of cotton wool in his hands and without a notice he held it against your scratches by cupping your face with his other hand. It was burning your skin, his fingertips were slightly brushing your neck while he dabbed gently the cotton to clean the wounds on your temple.

”Continue talking,” he said nonchalantly as he tilted your head to have a better view of tour left side of the face.

You stopped breathing in that moment, maybe because of the nauseating smell of the disinfectant or maybe it was because he was inches away from you, his focused look on the bleeding cut, “I think he just wanted to scare me,” you managed to say in a steady tone.

The blonde snapped his head at you, his blue eyes now on yours, “he is a psychopath,” his scent reminded you of that night at the gala, “he hit you because you didn't want to be interviewed, he could've killed you."

You reached his hand where he was pressing the cotton wool and for a moment your fingers brushed before he removed his hands from your skin. “you are exaggerating– he just needs help, ” you said.

Coriolanus closed his eyes, he clenched his fists and the knuckles turned white. He walked towards the desk and he poured himself a drink, taking a long burning sip. You watched him in silence as you inspected the reddish cotton on your hands.

“Do you trust him so much you want to come back to your house?” He was behind his desk, arms resting above the chair, “I told you, here you could have been safer from the media,” he raised his voice, “but you are stubborn, you risked your life and– if it wasn’t for Virma who knows what could have happened,” he said nervously while pouring himself a drink.

“So now it’s my fault?” You bawled at him.

“You don’t understand that now whatever happens to you affects me,” he said, “what are they going to say when they see your bruises and god forbid— he writes an article saying who knows what lies of what happened.”

“See? You don’t care about my safety, you only care about what they think,” you stepped closer to him because he wasn’t even looking at you, “you want me as your puppet, so you can have me under your control— your house, your peacekeepers, your scripts— it’s all part of your plan,” you said.

”You are free to go back to your pathetic life if that’s what you want," he took a sip of his drink, still looking down, “I can’t save you from yourself, after all– you were miserable before and now too,” it was like venom coming from his lips.

A tear streamed down your face, “this is what I hate about you,” you scoffed, “you are a selfish and heartless man, I was right from the start.”

You have called him only good names: uncaring, unaffectionate, disrespectful, selfish and heartless. The list was getting longer.

“What did you expect? I thought it was going to be easier with you but you are getting on my nerves,” he stood up walking towards you, “you should be grateful— but no, you like acting so superior to me,” his chest was getting closer to you.

You scoffed, “why? Who are you?” You looked up at him through your lashes, “just a rich spoiled kid who is playing at being the next president of Panem.”

“And you fucking need me,” he said against your cheek, “this is why you didn’t leave, you don’t want to admit that without this ‘heartless man’ standing in front of you who knows where you could be right now,” his eyes were consuming you.

”Look who's talking,” you pointed a finger at him, “the Capitol's favorite toy who needs a ‘miserable girl’ to make him popular.”

Coriolanus placed his free hand on your wrist, squeezing it lightly, “you like this am I right?” He licked his lips, “talking back at me, uh?”

His nose was touching yours, his grip was burning your skin and you could feel his hot breath mixing with yours. The blonde was dangerously close to you, but you missed that feeling. Have you already erased what he has said to you? Was he so powerful to make you fall for his spell?

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

His lips brushed yours, memories flooding back to you. You didn’t know if he was about to bite you or kiss you. It would have hurt you either way.

“Tell an Avox to prepare your room,” he said, “or freeze in the streets, I don’t care— your choice.” Coriolanus let your arm go and he walked away from your sight.

It started to be just for show but the backstage was even worse than the real life. At the same time you could not give up on this play, you had to change your rules, your morals, to keep being with him.

So you were alone in the dark in the hallway, thinking about running away or staying.

Coriolanus could not win this way, you hated to admit you still needed his presence to fix your reputation. The darkness seemed to swallow you as you hesitated, torn between your principles and the pull of his influence. He had too much power right now, but you were willing to wait, by making things your own terms.

As you stood there, unwilling to give in to his manipulations, the lingering memory of his touch warred with the sharpness of his words. You slammed the door shut for him to hear you, he would have to do better to get you away from him. 

Coriolanus could have touched your face as if you were the rarest creature on earth but the same lips once brushed yours, could tell the most hurtful things to you.

But you did that too. You were both craving the same sin. But too proud to admit on your faces.

“Is everything okay now?” You were in Tigris room, a colorful space barely illuminated by the outside light. It was in the basement, not really a cozy place to work.

You were talking about the aggression that happened a couple of days ago, nothing you wanted to recall actually, especially your conversation with Coriolanus, but you didn’t tell her that.

”Yes, the bruises are healing over,” you answered, touching your temple.

Tigris smiled at you while taking your measurements. She didn’t look like her cousin, apart from the blonde hair, she was pure and kind hearted. Why was an angel like her on earth with people like you? Like him?

“Why are we doing this again?” You asked “Didn’t you already have my measurements?”

You were standing on a stool, only wearing your undergarments while Tigris was putting the tape measure around your chest.

”Coryo sent me a note telling me that last time the dress was a little loose,” that was the last thing you could ever expect to hear from her, because it was in fact true, he noticed that.

“He did what?”

“I know, I was surprised too,” she smiled, “anyway, I read the newspaper.”

Oh no, you didn’t want to talk about that too.

“You two look great in the picture,” she handed you a wrinkled page where you could see a black and white photo of you and Coriolanus at the gala, he was looking at you while holding your waist.

You didn’t know about the existence of that picture until now. That night you were too starved to even pay attention to the newspaper, how could you miss that?

“It was so strange seeing him with a woman,” she commented while looking for some fabric.

“What do you mean? Has he ever had a girlfriend?” You knew the answer to that question but you wanted to hear from her.

“More like ‘girls’ than ‘girlfriends’, ” she laughed, “I’ve never met one of them,” Tigris wrapped a red cloth around your waist.

“Well, not that I’m special,” you looked at the mirror in front of you, “it’s just a stupid show.”

“What a shame,” she folded the excess fabric on your side and put a needle, “I liked you,” Tigris whispered.

You wished you could do something for her, she deserved more than a molded little room and a cousin like Coriolanus.

“So we are seeing each other more often, am I right?” she broke the awkward silence.

“Yes, Iris forced me to stay in this house,” Iris was really in apprehension when she saw your bruises, she lectured you on how people are vicious and in your ‘situation’ it was better not risking more.

“How lucky, aren’t I?” You added.

“I know my cousin can be– difficult to understand but,” she walked behind you, “there are some things that brought him to be this way,” her fingers tighten the fabric on your back, “and of course he’s not a saint, he just needs something– someone perhaps, to make him remember who he really is.”

“I can’t fix him,” you glanced at her reflection in the mirror, “I’m broken as much as he is and– we are incompatible.”

“As the sun and the moon?”

“Maybe.”

The comparison did fit well.

One is the star planets gravitate around, the only source of light at the center of the solar system. The moon is a small satellite whose only purpose is to spin around the earth, showing only one face and depending only on the planet's gravitational field.

Coriolanus wanted to appear like the sun, bright and powerful but he only displayed one face like the moon. You felt small, needing for something to orbit around as the moon did, but you didn’t know how radiant and capable you actually were, exactly like the sun.

Since you moved in his house, nights were longer than the others. It was getting harder to fall asleep because of your intrusive thoughts keeping you awake.

Is the door locked? Am I safe here?

The positive side was that your new room was probably bigger than your whole apartment. Then, you were not freezing anymore and you were finally eating food, not stolen fruit and smelly milk.

Even though you were living in his house, you tried avoiding his presence: by not having lunch the same hour as him, by going out your room only when you heard his door locking or having your usual meetings with Iris before him. That was your way of saying that he could not control your life, especially when he treated you the way he did.

However, that was still his house.

Red silky bed sheets, roses scent, his gold engraved initials on objects.

Coriolanus was not easy to forget. It was as if he had poisoned the air you were breathing, everything reminding you of him. The good and the bad. You promised yourself to not be tempted anymore, he was mercilessly manipulating you into believing he was the person he wanted to appear at the Capitol. But other than his mesmerizing eyes, his golden curls and delicate hands, there was another man hiding in his shadow. You had to picture that side of him every time he teased you, or you could be a sinner.

You were laying on the bed, leafing through the pages of the brand new script it was sent to your room. This was even worse than the other. Not only you had to remember some political matters regarding the current campaign, but you had to pretend again how good of a man Coriolanus was. How he supported and cared for you and how bright your plans as a couple were.

“I was extremely lucky to meet him, he is the sun to my dark days,” what an irony, “I am looking forward to living this exquisite love fully by his side.”

So cheesy for what?

“You can’t avoid me forever.”

You heard a muffled voice coming from the hallway, you walked towards the door but you didn’t answer. It was him of course, after the bad there was the good. He surprisingly tried talking with you on other occasions, but you had walked away before he could even finish his sentence, running away was easier, or god knows what you could’ve done.

“I can hear your heavy breathing,” he said close to the door, “open the door or I will,” he was waiting for your response, thinking about what he could say to get your attention. “Please?” Good manners are always the right answer, right? Right?

You let out a sight as you unlocked the door. Coriolanus was standing close to the room’s entrance, his arm was leaning against the wooden jamb and you noticed he was wearing his coat, as if he was about to go out.

“Oh so you’re alive,” he said, “I was worried about you.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but it didn’t matter either way. Right?

“What do you want?” You were still holding the doorknob, not letting him step inside the room.

“Come with me, we have to go somewhere,” he said with a rush in his tone.

“I kindly refuse your invitation,” you were about to close the door but he put his hand in between. I could squash his fingers, you thought, nothing he could not recover from.

Coriolanus rolled his eyes, “sooner or later you will have to pretend to like me,” his face was partially illuminated by your room light, making his eyes brighter.

You looked at his long fingers keeping the door open, he had his usual shiny ring on his index finger and for a moment you thought you could really squash his hand, “I think it’s better we have less interactions possible apart from the social events.”

“It’s been days since people saw us together, yesterday they asked about you at the debate,” he hissed, “see? Instead of asking about my political project they were– nevermind, just come with me.” His eyes were begging you, such a satisfying image.

“I’m not dressed up, what a pity,” you said mockingly.

He peeked at your figure, “you’re fine.”

You did not feel fine. You weren’t even wearing your clothes, you did not had the chance to pack up your things from your apartment and you had to ask Tigris for some piece of clothing that could fit you. She gave you some of her designs, a green matcha wool skirt matched with a cotton white top. At least you were about to wear pretty clothings, not your old unironed shirts.

“Just for show,” you said while grabbing a jacket.

“Just for show,” he echoed.

You realised that in this game of power and appearances, keeping your distance wasn't an option anymore. You knew that you were now entwined in a dangerous dance with Coriolanus, one that could lead to momentous success or catastrophic ruin. The stakes were high and your mixed feelings towards him could not interfere with your plan, he was not the only manipulator anymore.

“Where is he bringing me?” you asked Virma after fifteen minutes of silence in the car. It was better not talking directly to Coriolanus when possible.

“Miss, isn’t this a date? Enjoy the ride,” the driver said with a smile.

You and Coriolanus laughed. Date? The only date you were looking for was the date this show would end. The car stopped and from the window you immediately recognised the place. It was not a fancy restaurant, a loud club or someone’s wealthy mansion.

First date with Coriolanus Snow at… the Citadel?

That was not what the script said.

You heard the car speeding away as he walked towards the huge grey entry, he unlocked the door and he stepped inside. You stood on the sidewalk, not sure if you wanted to follow him, it was too late to change your mind and too dark to be alone outside.

At least ten peacekeepers were guarding the entrance but Coriolanus walked towards the grey corridor unbothered. The first time you were there, you were searched as if you were a prisoner, as if you could hide a bomb inside your small pockets. This time they did not even consider you, because you both spent months working day and night in that cold laboratory.

The elevator plunged down at least twenty floors, the dark walls were so thick you could strain your vocal chords for hours but no one would hear you. You were standing beside him, waiting for the door to open as soon as possible. The only sound echoing in that place was the loud machinery that was slowly moving down.

“Did you miss this place so much you wanted a guided tour by me?” You asked, breaking the silence, “or is it a surprise party for me?” Five floors left, “tell me now so I put my best smile for the cameras,” you said mockingly, but he didn’t even look at you.

Couldn’t this man laugh for once? So boring.

The elevator doors parted and you finally stepped inside the laboratory. It was an open space divided into three areas. The center was where Dr. Gaul did experiments with animals, occasionally it was also where she did her lectures and exams; one side was the sterile area where the researchers did surgical operations and medical trials where they often experimented with new drugs on genetically modified animals; on the other side, there was the library and research tables, where you mostly spent most of your time studying advanced biotechnology methods.

“How romantic– I guess what people are going to say when I tell them for our first date you took me to see these sweet and lovely creatures,” you said as you looked at the wall glass with dead beasts inside clear yellowish cases.

“You should keep the bar low with me— and I just need to find some documents, you know this laboratory better than me,” he removed his coat and stepped towards the library on the other side of the room.

“You tricked me– you just wanted a favor from me,” your voice echoed and you were not sure he heard you. You walked through the library looking for him.

“I’m in the archives section,” his voice was not far away.

The library was arranged in a circular pattern, as if the bookshelves were layers and in the very core there was a large space with study desks, the ones you had slept on many nights back when you worked there. Soon you found the blonde leaning over a desk while reading some pages in an orange envelope.

“Did you find it?” You asked in an annoyed tone.

“Here there is– this is your file,” he said while standing up.

“My what now?” You walked over him, intended to grab the envelope with the 'confidential' print on the cover.

Coriolanus stepped back, leaning his back on the bookshelf behind him, “given your precedents, I thought it was better to check your past before they did,” he had already read your file a long time ago, but he didn’t tell you that.

He started reading the first page, “you uhm graduated with honors in medicine– bla bla bla first student in your class, —okay here, you specialized in general surg— oh no you did not” he paused, “yet?” Coriolanus looked at you with a puzzled face, suggesting you to say something.

“I will this year,” you looked at your fingers, fidgeting with the ends of your jacket.

“Lie number one, here it says you didn’t pay the tuition,” he pointed at the paper.

Fuck. You couldn’t afford paying for electricity, imagine the university fees, in the most expensive city in Panem. You stuttered something but he continued talking.

“Anyway, you got a place in the Ranvistill Clinic —impressive— and then you mysteriously asked for a transfer after two years, and this is how you got here,” he looked at you, “what happened?”

Was that a tricky question? This conversation was making you uncomfortable. You felt under trial, as if you were accused of crimes, Coriolanus was the judge and you were the only one defending yourself.

“Is this an interview? I didn’t know that apart from being interested in writing scripts you also were a human resource guy,” you tried switching the topic, the conversation was getting too personal.

“Do you have something to hide? I must be prepared for anything they can ask me,” he frowned.

You had many secrets you hoped he didn’t already know, “I changed jobs, that’s it.”

“You failed my test,” he chuckled, “you lied straight to my face in a serious matter –this is lie number two.”

“A test? What the hell Coriolanus.” You sighed as you walked over a desk, sitting on it.

“See? This is why you don’t have my trust.”

The man that cannot be trusted was really talking about trust?

“If you already know every detail of my life, why are you talking with me?”

“Oh, I knew it was going to bother you —anyway no, there’s just something that does not add up.” His eyes went again on that file, hands leafing through pages.

“Which is,” you said with a passive tone.

“Clodius South, head of the surgery department —or I should say, your umh— ex boyfriend?” He closed the folder and put it carelessly on the shelf behind him.

Your heart skipped a bit, “I’m done,” you stood up but he came closer to you.

“Answer just one question, I'm curious– why did he fire you? I mean, officially you transferred but I know it wasn’t voluntary,” he didn’t seem to give up, his look was pleading for answers, “so strange, you had been together for a year.”

“Why are you so interested in my sentimental life? You don’t have a chance with me, you know that right?” You laugh, feeling the tension in the air.

“There is no such risk, I’m not attracted to you,” his figure blocked you from walking away, “I just need your popularity, so I can fix it to something good.”

“You were the one kissing me in the car,” you bit your tongue, that kiss was something you didn’t want to bring up, it was better to forget about it. However, the other option was talking about your past, not something you were proud of.

“Oh please as if you didn’t want to,” he tilted his head, eyes locked on yours.

You laughed at his words, “you wish,” your back leaned against the desk.

“Then why did you kiss me back? I remember you didn’t let me breathe for a moment.”

“That was part of the show, Coriolanus Snow.”

“Now you use my full name? Last time I checked you called me differently,” he rested his arm on the desk you were lying on, making his height the same as yours.

You damned the only time it slipped from your lips calling him Coryo, a nickname you promised yourself to not say ever again.

“Why? Did it turn you on?”

His other hand was near your leg, slowly moving closer to your exposed skin.

“You can’t even imagine,” he swiftly looked down to your lips then back to your eyes.

The room did not feel cold anymore. Your breathing was getting slower, his parted lips warming your skin, his arm grazing your leg.

“So tell me, what happened with him?” Coriolanus insisted, but you had other plans in mind.

He was in power right now, he brought you here just to humiliate you with your deepest secrets. Weren't you just a miserable girl? It was your turn to make him feel miserable.

“You say you’re not attracted to me but you always find an excuse to touch me,” you whispered to his ear, his curls brushing your nose and his hand slightly brushing your leg.

This would have made him back off, telling you how stupid you are to think something like that, gaslighting you about the fact he never did such things like touching you.

“If it bothers you so much why you never push me away,” his hand traveled up to your leg, “go on, I’m waiting,” his fingers were now brushing your thigh and you felt his cold ring against your skin.

Fuck. That was not your plan.

You can always get back to it.

“I know your limits— I bet you barely touched a woman in your life,” you knew it was not true, you only said it as a provocation, to hurt his fragile ego as you planned.

I won.

”I don’t have limits, and we both know you would lose your bet,” his hand went under the hem of your skirt, making you shiver in surprise.

His index finger traced the outline of your panties, slightly playing with the waistband. Coriolanus didn’t break eye contact with you, his pupils were wide, you couldn’t see the blue that usually painted his iris, he was breathing slowly with parted lips, as if he wanted to control his heartbeat. And his hand felt so warm and familiar, so close to your core.

You knew that look, the one that he gave you when he let his guard down. The same look Coriolanus had when you came in his study a couple of days ago, his other side that he rarely showed to anyone.

His palm rested on your bare naked thigh.

“You don’t talk now?” His voice soothed your face, “tell me to stop and I will.”

That was the perfect occasion to slap that smug from his face, but you couldn’t even make up a coherent sentence. His voice was a gentle whisper cutting through the tension, but all you could manage was to stare at his eyes, trying to calculate his next move.

You knew what it was. It was a dangerous game you were playing, one that could shatter your plan. Did you have something to lose? You have already bent your morals, risked your life and crossed lines you never thought you would. Coriolanus would have been another crime to add to your list.

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

But what if I took just a bite? A taste of mortal sin.

“Why did you bring me here?” You managed to say trying to control your breathing.

“You once asked me why did I chose you,” Coriolanus whispered to your ear, “and I told you that it was for the presidential campaign,” his hand moved up again, “publicity, press and interviews— I only care about that,” his fingers were covering your clothed cunt.

You took a deep breath and swallowed, your back was still leaning against the desk edge, his other arm on your side. His words were not making things easier for you, not because you were listening to what he actually was saying, but because his tone of voice was something you could only hear in these moments. When he acted good, for the cameras, for the show. But there was no one in that room.

Coriolanus kept talking, “but my point is, why didn't you leave?” His index finger circled around your covered core, “I mean— I could list a few reasons why, considering also how wet you are right now,” he pulled your panties to the side, exposing your wetness. “But you always say you hate me, that you despise me, why are you here then? Are you so desperate?”

Your eyes were closed, your mind wandered prohibited thoughts while his hand was painfully too far away from what your body needed. What could you say to him? That he was right about being so desperate to pretend to be with him, so you could clean your image? That despite his selfish behavior he was tempting you into falling in his game?

Coriolanus brushed your soaked entrance with his fingertips as he massaged your clit with your own wetness. You shamefully spread your legs giving him more access to your folds, his digits that once touched your face were gently rubbing your needy center.

Your silent whimpers were enough as an answer for him to slide one finger inside you.

Your hand was now on his biecep, grabbing his arm so tightly or you could fall. There was something in you that was holding you back from punching him to his face. Was this the charm everyone talked about? Was this the version of him everyone adored?

“Given that you prefer remaining silent— I can tell you why,” his hand moved inside you, “you like the attention,” your cheek was against his, while your other hand rested on the nape of his neck.

Your reaction to his movements made him close his eyes in bliss, but you were too focused on not making sounds that you didn’t notice his expression. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that he was making you feel good.

“I bet you’ve barely been touched by a man,” Coriolanus echoed.

It’s just one bite of the apple.

You looked at him this time, and you wished you did it before. The blue in his eyes, his plump lips, the glistening on his forehead covered by his falling blonde curls. An angel.

No, no, he is the devil, not an angel.

“Wrong,” you breathed and his pace fastened, “actually they were better than you,” you whispered and his eyes widened.

“Lie number three,” he slid another finger, “I can tell when you’re pretending and when you’re not,” he brushed your clit with his thumb.

Oh.

You bucked your hips to make some friction, Coriolanus was painfully slow as if he was taking all the time in the world. He leaned his head to your left temple, where small reddish bruises were fading away from your skin, and he planted feather kisses on it. Coriolanus slowly traced a trail of wet kisses alongside your face. His soft lips were healing your bruises, his hand was igniting your core.

His fingers moved faster, pumping in and out your hole and slightly curled to hit exactly your sweet spot. Your little moans echoed in the room along with the sloppy sound of his hand never leaving your cunt. Coriolanus stroked your bundle of nerves once more, his lips sucked a spot behind your hear, slowly moving down your neck, marking your delicate skin with his warm kisses.

That was it. You were sure your high was coming in a matter of seconds, your mouth curved as pleasure began flowing through your body.

“But wasn’t I an uncaring, disrespectful —and what was that—oh, selfish and heartless man?” His hand stopped moving, “well I guess you were right,” his fingers were slowly pulling out your unfulfilled hole.

What was he doing?

“Did you really think you could do whatever you wanted? Having meetings without me, eating locked in your room, ignoring me for days— I have the control here.” Coriolanus looked down at you with a satisfied expression, believing that he finally asserted his dominance over you.

Your mind raced for a response, but before you could gather yourself, his words hung heavy in the air.

That was his revenge.

You thought you could teach him a lesson but he was a step ahead of you. Coriolanus humiliated you, exactly as he planned. His intent was to make you feel ashamed of your past but you gave him a better opportunity: he made you feel needy for him.

Self sabotaging.

“They are here,” he said in a calm tone, as if you were not almost buckling in that very moment.

Five seconds ago you were close to your orgasm and now you were feeling the emptiness growing inside you. You looked around confused, adjusting your body so now you were standing up, your weak knees begging for rest.

Who?

“They?” You stuttered as you watched him stepping back.

“Yes, I called them before,” he smirked, ”put your best smile for the cameras.”

Coriolanus acted like he did not just had his fingers inside you, but his body was telling another story, his bulge was visible from his pants and you noticed that as he swiftly covered his erection with his hand.

He walked towards the elevator where two peacekeepers were waiting for him. You fixed your skirt, probably too ruined and sticky to ever wear it again.

Fuck him.

You followed him, making sure to walk properly or he would’ve noticed how flustered you were. The thick doors closed, it was you, two peacekeepers and the blonde. You were sure he could smell your arousal, you still had traces of his saliva on your neck and a little bruise on your skin. A new one.

Coriolanus took a handkerchief from his pocket and he carefully cleaned his hand from your wetness, like he was cleaning his hands after a crime. Yours. The cloth wrapped around his fingers, as your walls clenched around him moments ago.

Then he caught you staring at his hand, “are you okay? You look flushed.”

You sick bastard.

Your cheeks were painted in a crimson color, of course he could see that, he was the cause of that. The same cause that made you cream your panties and shake your legs. If it wasn’t for the peacekeepers, you would have probably strangled him. But that was his lucky day.

He won.

After an infinite amount of time where your mind couldn’t stop picturing the sloppy sound from before, the elevator’s door parted. Coriolanus grabbed your shoulder as he was directed toward the exit. The silence in that room was now replaced by loud voices coming from the outside.

“Who did you call?” You tried pulling away from his grip but he kept you close.

“I told you, they haven’t seen us in a while.”

He opened the entrance and you heard someone shouting, “they are here!” A group of unknown faces were pointing microphones towards you, asking questions you didn’t bother to listen to.

You walked through the crowd side by side to him, his arm around your waist as you covered your face from the blinding flashes. The car was waiting for you in the exact spot it left you, Coriolanus let you enter in the car first as he followed by closing the door, blocking the loudness outside.

You sat on the back seat, heart racing outside your chest, forcing yourself to completely ignore his presence.

Coriolanus was again back in your thoughts as your wetness slid down your legs.

He is the forbidden fruit.

I am tempted by thee.

A/N: finally it’s out!! It has been so hard writing this chapter, I had so many ideas that I couldn’t mold them together into a coherent text lol. Anyway, as always tell me if there are grammatical mistakes because another difficulty was my limited vocabulary (a special thanks to wordreference.com or I wouldn’t be here today.) Every day I’m trying my best to improve my English so have mercy on me! Let me know if you want to be tagged next time!! 💌

Thank you so much for all the love and support!! Your comments mean a lot to me ❤️❤️ I love you all

ask me questions here 💌

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[sevenop]

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: And The GRAMMY Goes To…

A/N: And even though you may be incredibly comfortable with Billy in every possible way, singing is kind of taboo. You've never sung in Bill's presence due to your shyness, but everything changes when you're so absorbed in the music in your headphones while cleaning that you don't notice her return. And you sing. Singing her songs, dressed head to toe in her stuff. Eilish goes crazy.

You're always looking forward to being alone. No, not that your feelings for Eilish are a theatrical sham, absolutely and categorically not. It's just that singing next to the seven-time winner of the prestigious Grammy Music Awards is pure suicide for your sense of confidence, despite all the mind-blowing love you have for O'Connell herself. "Made worse" by cohabitation, because living with a girl who has great taste in music and who has music playing literally twenty-four by seven in her house is a factor that clearly doesn't make it any easier to hide your little secret. So yes, you do look forward to being alone, even though you feel genuinely sad when Billie isn't around.

Literally a month has passed since the last time, and you're thanking all the gods when Eilish suddenly calls up the label to sort out some sort of issue with the promo that has started. With the recent release of third album, it's almost impossible to hold back the smile at the moment of forgiveness: the excitement is still bubbling in your blood, reinforced by the realization that you can sing your new favorite songs at the top of your lungs without any embarrassment.

"Are you up to something?" - the blue seas opposite look at you with warmth, and the smile on your face is beautiful mirrored on her face. Billie has always been perceptive and empathetic.

"Nothing but cleaning."

"Am I allowed to start being jealous of my dirty clothes yet?" - Eilish quirks an eyebrow upward skeptically, but the smile never leaves her face. - "I've never seen people so excited about cleaning."

A gentle kiss on aquophore-covered lips, a whisper in her ear asking for a quick return and you are beyond suspicion - the obsidian-black Dodge is riding, leaving you alone with your only devoted accomplice in the face of Shark. The phone screen flashes a green Spotify icon almost instantly. Your time has come!

×××

"Come on, boy! Sing along with me!"

And even if you don't hear the dog barking in the noise of the music that beats in ear headphones, him contented muzzle and actively wagging tail are more than eloquent. Having bravely dealt with dirty things, you suddenly found that you temporary have nothing to wear, so you borrowed the first oversize shorts and a colorful T-shirt from Eilish's wardrobe. Next tasks - dusting, loading the first batch of washed clothes into the dryer, and mopping the floors, what are you doing now. The last item on your makeshift list. Euphorically singing the last track, playing the third album for the second time, you release your playlist into free swimming, controlled only by Spotify algorithms. After a couple of trucks, you hear a familiar rhythmic thrill and a languid exhale - "Oxytocin". So good.

Shark hurriedly runs somewhere, but you don't pay it any mind, only intercepting the mop handle like a microphone stand.

×××

"My girl, I'm home!"

It's the only thing Billie says before she stands frozen at the doorway to the living room. Her hand intercepts the car keys she'd been coquettishly twirling on her index finger at the last moment, for the sudden sight before her is far more coquettish and startling. Shark barks happily, running up to her, causing Billie to shush the pet with a hasty shush. Her hands immediately fumble for her cell phone in her shorts pocket - it's a sin not to capture at least a few seconds.

"Cause as long as you're still breathing, don't you even think of leaving," you sing languidly, almost touching the handle of the improvised microphone with your lips.

Billie only swallows, realizing the hot knot between her legs tightening the longer she watches your performance. In her eyes are hungry blue flames, ready to lick you from head to toe. The impulse to strip you of her own clothes, so insanely appropriate for you but interfering with her contemplation now, is interrupted by a clever idea. Her phone dives back into her pocket. A few hurried steps outside of your attention and she's already at the rack of numerous statuettes, a few more and you almost gasp at the last words of the song, seeing the weighty Grammy statue right in front of you, clasped in her hand, followed by the feeling of Eilish pressing against your back. Insanely close. Insanely hot. Your hands grip the phone shakily, poking at 'stop' and the mop promptly sheds to the floor, hitting audibly. You've been caught red-handed.

"I think this is rightfully yours, girl," Billie whispers and grins deftly into your ear, interlocking your fingers on the cold gold of the gramophone.

"Billie, I-"

"Shh, you better tell me how long it's been since I've known about this," her tongue makes a hot stroke on the curl of your ear, biting down gently on the lobe, catching your ragged exhale with pleasure, - "How many concerts have I missed already, Y/n?"

You're at a loss, not knowing what to say. Eilish's hands, tugging at the edges of her own T-shirt, which you're wearing, don't seem to be helping you concentrate. Oh yeah, add to that the fear that you might drop Grammy on the floor right now if she continues.

"I... I can't exactly say, I do this whenever... when you're not around, I'm sorry."

Eilish's hands only lead higher, up to your chest, placing a hickey on your neck with some mysterious throaty purr and licking it off immediately, burning you with her heated breath. You reflexively give her more access.

"Wow, how much did I miss," - the bite on your collarbone, your new quiet moan, - "Can I count on a private concert?".

The three tattooed fairies on her left arm flicker, barely releasing your gaze downward - the knot on her your shorts immediately comes undone, giving her easy access.

"Sing to me, Y/n. Sing all my songs."

And you sing. Only for her. In bedroom, mixed lyrics with moans.

[littlefireball]

I hope you rest well!

I'd like to request a story: wooyoung in a non idol au setting. Strangers to lovers (with with him and her being inexperienced (getting intimate) but her having many ideas what she wants. Also I'd love if the met many times and made out many times before they did the deed!

Thank you!!But im not sure what 'I'd love if the met many times' 😥 is it mean they meet many times? but it doesn't matter i made it laaaa but sorry the make out scenes are not that much TT

ᴡʏ|ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇᴛ? (ᴍ)

ɢᴀᴍᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ x ɢᴀᴍᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ʟᴏɴɢ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀꜱ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ|ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴜʀʙᴀᴛᴇ|ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴘᴏꜱɪᴛɪᴏɴꜱ :)|ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ꜱᴇx|ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ᴋɪɴᴋ|ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ ɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜɴɢᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ 1-2 ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴏɴʟʏ)

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.2ᴋ

Masterlist

Gaming at an Internet café is the perfect escape from daily pressures. With headphones on, the outside world fades, and the game's sounds ignite your passion. You revel in the arcade atmosphere, feeling joy wash away your tension.

"Yes! I'm back on top!" A rush of triumph hits as you see your name at the top of the leaderboard, a testament to weeks of skill-building. If only you could channel this drive into your job, but that thought barely registers.

"Alright! Time to head home." A glance at your phone reveals it's already one in the morning. You snap a picture of your score, post it with a cheeky caption, and drift off to sleep.

The next day, after a tough workday, you return to the café, eager to check your score. To your shock, a player named Black Cat has shattered your record in just twenty-four hours. "What?" you gasp, disbelief washing over you.

No, first place is yours.

Time slips away as you replay the game, but despite your efforts, you can't surpass Black Cat. Exhaustion sets in, but quitting isn't an option.

You analyze Black Cat's gameplay, piecing together clues like a complex puzzle, inching closer to the answer.

"I did it!" You slumped in your seat with a sigh of relief. Finally! You were at the top again. It took more time than you imagine and now it was already 2:00 a.m.. "Fuck!" Having no time to take a rest, you quickly gathered your belongings and rushed back home. You might not have realized it, but the instant you walked away, your ranking dropped again.

This occurs nearly every day, and it's worth mentioning that this pattern has persisted for a week now. Your triumphs seem to fade away all too quickly.

For you, it was a battle; but for Wooyoung, it was a funny game.

The days of campus life have come to an end, and graduation looms just a few months ahead. Wooyoung's friends were either busy with part-time jobs or off on romantic outings. He found himself feeling quite dull. Although he kept active with daily sports and bike rides, a spark of excitement eluded him.

That was, until he stumbled upon your post. Initially, he figured that a visit to an Internet café, after such a long hiatus, would be a fun way to pass the time. Little did he know that the thrill of vying for first place against you would ignite a newfound passion.

Wooyoung liked watching you struggle with the ranking. It sounded like a pervert though.

Wooyoung arrived at the internet cafe early, excited to spend the day with you. Spotting you in your favorite corner, he decided to sit beside you instead of across. As you both logged into the game, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. Each time he won, you playfully cursed, while he seemed to predict your every move.

In a moment of distraction, you noticed him trying to suppress laughter at your setbacks, his eyes gleaming with mischief. Curious, you wondered if he was that black cat. When you pretended to head to the restroom, he immediately stopped his antics, engrossed in his phone.

Returning to your chair, you feigned disappointment and said you needed another try. Realizing you were back, Wooyoung set his phone aside and dove back into the game. Yet, you remained still, simply observing him as he played. When he glanced over at your screen, he noticed you hadn't even begun.

He feigned a cough, a clumsy attempt to divert attention while concentrating on his game. Intentionally scoring low, he aimed to project an image of a novice, yet his username betrayed him─Black Cat.

"Um… May I help you?" he stuttered, realizing you were peering at his screen.

"Oh, nothing much. I'm just curious about why you keep staring at my screen."

"Uh… um…" He fumbled for words.

"So, you're watching me play to spot my mistakes?" Your words made him glance away, clearly flustered.

"I don't mind at all." You chuckled lightly. "I just think it's impressive how you rack up such high scores."

"Really? Thanks!" A smile broke across Wooyoung's face, thrilled to finally be chatting with you. "Want to play a round together?"

"Sure! But let's mix it up a bit; playing just one game gets dull."

"Of course! How about Mario Kart?" Wooyoung suggested eagerly.

"Don't regret it. I'm good at this game." You said provocatively.

"That should be what I say."

Both of you found unprecedented happiness in this game. Not fighting for high scores anymore, but the joy of playing together. You talked about everything and nothing, from your favorite books to the latest movies, laughter filling the air between you. It felt natural, comfortable, and more importantly, genuine. As the night wore on, you realized that you could spend hours like this, just talking and getting to know each other better.

"Will you come tomorrow?" Wooyoung asked.

"Maybe not." You gathered your belongings and said. "I gotta take a rest. I'm tired."

"Then how can I find you?" Wooyoung burst out, he wanted to meet you every day. It has become his habit.

"Find me?" You smirked. "Why would you find me?"

"Um…ahh…I want to play a game with you." Wooyoung confessed.

Smiled, you nodded. "Then~what if we have a bet?" You asked, leaning back at the chair. "If I lose, I will give you my number. If you lose─""Deal."

"What? Don't you need to consider it?"

"No. What game do you want to play?" Wooyoung was already logged in the game, searching for one he would definitely win.

"Okay. Okay. You choose." You smile helplessly.

Naturally, you end up losing. Who advised him to pick a game you've never tried? But it's all good. You initially intended to share your number with him; you were just looking for some fun, so you threw out a bet instead.

"Hey, Y/N. Wanna bet?" He asked suddenly on the way to take you home. "Whoever reaches that tree first wins. The losing one must fulfill the other's wish." Before you could react to his words, he suddenly ran away with his full speed, leaving you far behind.

"You asshole!!" Of course, you lose again. You were not good at sports, especially running. "How could you run first?It's not fair!" You smacked his chest playfully, and he laughed, grabbing your hands tightly.

"So you want to run again?"

"No way!"

"And you lose~"

"Maybe you should change your name to fox." You pouted and he pulled you into his embrace, making you blush.

"You have to fulfill my wish, Y/N."

"Wh…What wish?"

"Can you go on a date with me?"

"But I won't go on a date with a jobless man."

"Fine. I will find a job." He compromised. "So will you go on a date with me?"

"To see if you work hard."

"That's not fair. I've already fulfilled one of your wishes!" Wooyoung pouted like a child.

"Is it?" You couldn't help but grin at his adorable charm, leaning in impulsively to press a kiss on his cheek. Perhaps it was a bit wild; after all, how could you kiss someone you had just met on your very first day? Yet, in that instant, all you wanted was to embrace that fleeting urge.

"Go get a job and I'll go on a date with you. That's it." You left him frozen in his place, going back to your house.

"You promise?" Wooyoung shouted.

"Promise."

—---

Initially, your plan was simple: enjoy dinner and each other's company. However, things took an unexpected turn as your relationship evolved into a whirlwind of gambling challenges. It felt like you had unwittingly walked into his trap, with every bet he suggested tilted in his favor, forcing you to comply with his whims.

But you never mind.

"Kiss me." Wooyoung leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper, and you instinctively moved to meet him with a kiss. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he drew you into his warm embrace, and in that moment, the world around you faded away. The kiss was carefree, filled with sweetness and tenderness, a balm for his soul. Almost every day during lunch, he would find you and propose a playful 'bet.'

"Ten seconds have passed," you teased, breaking the kiss with a soft pop. "That's our deal."

"What if I want it to last longer?" He pressed his chest against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

"Shall we make another bet?" You tilted your head.

"Can we save that for later? I always win, so it doesn't really matter when I claim my prize, right?"

"You…"

He silenced you with a fervent kiss, a soft moan escaping as he deepened the connection, his tongue dancing with yours in a passionate rhythm.

"How can you be so intense?" you gasped, playfully patting his chest.

"I can be even more intense if that's what you want."

"No." You halted his advance by placing your hand over his mouth. "Time's up."

"You'll want more, I promise." With a quick peck on your forehead, he dashed away, leaving you breathless. "I gotta work. Bye bye~"

It's a fact. You crave something deeper than just a kiss. Yet, each time you two get lost in the moment, he pulls back. Why is that? Is it because of the nature of your relationship? You and he may not officially be a couple, but you've shared nearly all the experiences that couples do, except for that final step.

Once again, you found yourselves lost in each other on the sofa, but this time, there were no conditions or wagers. You had invited him over, yearning for his company. His left arm encircled your waist, drawing you closer, while his right hand gently cupped your face, tilting it for a kiss. As he pressed his lips against yours, his tongue slipped in, playfully teasing yours and producing a soft, intimate sound. The suddenness of his actions caught you off guard, but you quickly became entranced by the fervent embrace.

His hands roamed over your back, glided down to your thighs, and ventured to explore your most sensitive spots. And you could feel something hard sinking between your thighs;he was turned on. But, he suddenly stopped the kisses, just as usual.

"I gotta go to the toilet." Not waiting for your response, he rushed to the washroom. He twisted the faucet handle, letting the icy water cascade over his face, a desperate attempt to shake off the grip of longing. Yet, despite his efforts, his body betrayed him.

Unable to resist any longer, he freed himself from his trousers, starting to jerk off. His thoughts swirl with tantalizing fantasies, igniting a fire within him. He gasps for air as sweat beads on his brow, cascading down like tiny jewels. The vision of being enveloped by your warmth consumes him, driving him to madness. Eventually, the intensity of his cravings subsides, if only for a moment.

He gazes at the crumpled tissues in the trash, sighs heavily, and splashes water on his face before leaving the restroom. But the sight of you leaning against the wall outside shatters his composure. Your form-fitting dress highlights your curves, and your slender legs captivate him.

"Have you finished yet? I thought you…" you tease as you draw closer. Your eyes playfully wander down to his anxious gaze. With one hand resting on his chest and the other propped against the wall, your faces inch closer, breaths mingling in the air. You whisper softly, "Are you scared to have me, completely?" Your playful, innocent eyes sparkle with mischief, as your bodies pressed together, feeling the warmth of each other's breath.

"Just don't regret what you have said." "Never." He suddenly carried you in his arms, making his way to your bedroom.

With his right hand cradling your head, he kissed every inch of your body, igniting a fire within you despite the fabric between you. His hands explored your curves, lingering on your chest, leaving a tender mark. Your soft sighs fueled his desire as he pressed your bodies together, his lower half brushing against you. You surrendered as he unzipped your dress, showering your exposed breasts with kisses.

"I've wanted you for so long." He murmured while dropping kisses on your collarbone.

"Then why don't you claim me as yours?"

"I'm afraid that you will reject me." He locked his eyes with yours, full of affection. "After all, I'm younger than you."

"What's the point? I would never mind our age." You wrapped your arms around his neck. "If I mind, I won't let you kiss me, let alone fuck me."

Smiling, he claimed you into a hungry kiss. After removing your garments and putting on a condom, he settled between your thighs. The passionate make-out session was interrupted by your breathy moans as he eased into you. A hint of discomfort made you frown. "It's okay, just relax," Wooyoung murmured, cupping your face and kissing you while caressing your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you.

Tapping his shoulder as a signal to let him move, he first thrusted in and out at a slow pace but your wall kept pulling and sucking him in, driving him insane. Your moan grew louder as you arched your back against his chest, he quickly moved in and out while slapping your ass with his ball.

"Young…Youngie…Can you fuck me in doggy style? I want you deep inside me." You begged, your voice soft. He made a pause and pecked at your forehead before flipping you over suddenly, causing your head to land on the pillow.

He forcefully lifted your pelvis, pressing your buttocks against his lower body. Without waiting for your response, he thrust hard into you once again. Unlike the rapid thrusting before, it was now like a raging flood. Each insertion went as deep as possible, fiercely colliding with your soft flesh.

"Fuck!!" Wooyoung seized your hair, bumped into you and hitted your sweet spot dead on. The combination of pain and pleasure left you gasping for air, your excitement manifesting in frantic cries. He showed no signs of slowing down, thrusting with relentless speed and power, as if he were exerting every ounce of his strength.

Your moans had transformed into an intoxicating melody, more enchanting than ever before, fueling his urge to take complete control over you. The delicate dance of pain and pleasure brought tears cascading down your face. Each moan now carried a hint of sobbing, a poignant blend of ecstasy and despair. In this moment, coherent thoughts eluded you, leaving you with only broken whispers and fragmented sounds.

"Ah… young… please…slow…"

"What did you say? I can't hear you." He smirked mischievously, spanking you several times to leave red marks on your ass.

"Call me daddy and I'll let you go." Suddenly, he collided with your deepest spot, hitting it over and over again. Your limbs went weak as the numbness took over, energy was going out of your body.

"woo… young… please." "Huh? I don't want to hear that." "Hmm… daddy… Stop…" Delighted by the response, he eased his grip, gradually descending. His damp chest pressed against your back as he planted soft kisses, trailing them up to your neck, leaving a warm path of affection in his wake.

He gently brushed your tears away, his fingers weaving through your hair with care. The rhythm continued unabated as he lifted you, allowing you to settle with your back against him. His damp chest pressed against your spine, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. Turning your head, you captured his lips in a kiss, one hand tenderly cradling the back of his neck.

He met your kiss with enthusiasm, his fingers gliding gently along the inner curve of your thighs, while his other hand traveled upward, exploring every inch of your body before pausing to knead your chest.

"Can you be rough with me again?" You asked, earning a smile from him.

"Are you okay with that?" He kissed you one more time before parting from your lips.

"Yes, please."

He gently lowered you onto the bed once more, his body still pressed against your back. Supporting himself with his arms, he swiftly reentered you, his movements quick and fervent. Your body quivered with each powerful thrust, the sensation both soft and overwhelming.

He let out deep, passionate moans, reveling in the pleasure coursing through him. In turn, you responded with your own sounds of delight, completely enveloped in the blissful moment. Time seemed to slip away as you both surrendered to the intoxicating feelings, lost in a world of comfort and ecstasy.

Exhaustion began to set in as he slowed down his pace, wrapping his right arm around your waist before settling onto the bed beside you. Now he was spooning you, nudged your right leg forward, allowing his cock to delve even deeper. With a slow, gentle thrust, he peppered your neck with soft kisses, leaving you blissfully unaware of how it had become adorned with love bites.

"Youngie, I want to try something…" You trailed off, feeling shy.

"Hm?What's that?" Wooyoung sneaked his hand to your breast, teasing your nipple while leaving a trail of kisses on your neck.

"Do you know what missionary is?"

"You really have so many ideas." He let out a chuckle and flipped you over once more before you could say anything. He folded you up and supported himself with both of his hands settled on your thighs, moving in and out at a steady pace.

"A little harder… Go deeper…" you said coyly.

"Aren't you afraid of pain?" He asked.

"No…Please daddy"

Gripping your arms, he pressed his lips against yours, fiery and red, before plunging into you with the ferocity of a wild beast. This time, the intensity was unlike anything you had experienced before. The blend of pain and ecstasy escaped your lips in loud moans, mingling with the breathless utterance of his name. The bed groaned under the force of your movements, but neither of you noticed, lost in the throes of your fervent connection.

"Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!!"

Finally, you both reached climax and Wooyoung came. After the moment passed, he tenderly pressed his lips to your forehead and gave your lips a light kiss. He pulled away and settled down next to you. You nestled against his shoulder, a content smile gracing your face.

"You really gave it your all…" You weakly chuckled. Wooyoung draped his arm around you, resting his head against yours as he murmured, "Well, who was it that tempted me?" You let out a soft laugh.

"Who could possibly say no?" You exchanged warm smiles before closing your eyes, the weight of exhaustion enveloping you both.

"Can you be my girlfriend?" Wooyoung whispered in your ears. "Is it a bet or a promise?" "A promise." Smiling, he drew you into a deep kiss with all of his love.

[torpidx]

Don’t know if you do bsd but if you do!

Atsushi x fem reader !

Reader is ovulating and Atsushi instincts pick up on it. Reader somehow accidentally gotten herself in a situ where she’s straddling atsushis neck, and wearing a skirt no safety shorts 🤭. She tries to get off due to embarrassment but atsushi forces her to stay put. Saying he can smell her ovulating,,

Oh yeah Atsushi half tiger form + breeding kink.

A/N : YES I DO BSD !! I hope I wrote this somewhat correct, enjoy 💋 (Also first time writing Atsushi… went for a different approach maybe just slightly)

WORD COUNTER : 1352

CHARACTERS : Fem reader, Atsushi Nakajima.

CONTAINS : Breeding, Atsushi in half tiger form, Ovulating, face riding, Atsushi guiding reader, desperate Atsushi, Praising, Mating press, Claw marks, manhandling, not a lot of dialogue.

EDITOR : @swtichblde

Claws lightly touching your hips, leading you in a smooth pattern that evoked a primal bond between the two of you. You gripped the headboard tightly with your fingers, succumbing to the pleasure that the male underneath you provided.

Prior to the situation you were in, Atsushi's actions had you a bit confused and slightly suspicious of him. The different responses he showed during your conversations that normally, he would be happy to engage in, now seemed distant. The obvious signs of nerves appearing on his red face and twitching nose suggested something had changed between you two.

The mystery of his responses remained, intriguing you, but leaving you oblivious to the reality hidden underneath. Your enticing scent in the office silently called to him. Edging him into a corner, tempting him to give in to his instinctual desires. Holding back from ruining the relationship he had built with you as your body began to ovulate.

"You taste amazing. Fuck." The flashback unfolding in your mind assisting you to piece together what happened leading up to this moment was interrupted by Atsushi's voice, snapping you back to reality.

You moaned in pleasure as you felt his warm breath against your heat. Your skirt successfully shielded his view of your face, for which you were grateful. At least he could not witness your embarrassing expressions now. In addition, you were relieved that you had not worn anything that could have spoiled the moment. Thanking yourself mentally.

You noticed his breath quickening while he picked you up and repositioned you further on his face, making your cunt push against his mouth once again. He was excited by the view of your wet, unclothed arousal.

His words caused your cheeks to turn a deeper red as your embarrassment remained. The realization of what Atsushi was doing beneath you caused your hips to lift off his face. He was eating you out like it was his first meal in months, starving for your release. Your hips grinded against his face slightly as you listened to the white haired boy let out a whine, his claws digging further into your hips, daring to draw blood with any more pressure.

"Where are you going? No going shy on me now." His voice was hoarse, almost pleading for you to shift your body weight back onto his face.

Atsushi's grasp pushed you downwards onto his tongue, his mouth surrounding your sensitive bud. The unexpected feeling caused you to cry out and groan involuntarily, your head dropping onto the headboard. Your back arched, allowing the man beneath you to fix his mouth's position.

Atsushi's humming sensation thrilled your body, making your mind fog. Your legs tremble and your thighs subconsciously tightened around his head, signaling him to not move. You feel speechless. A silent gasp was all that escaped through your lips as the knot in your stomach expanded. Your vision became a blur as you orgasmed, letting go into his mouth.

Atsushi eagerly slurped up every drop of your wetness with his tongue, making sure nothing was wasted. Your taste and fragrance excited him so much that he was almost brought to the brink of his own orgasm in his underwear.

Atsushi used all his strength to lift you from his face, your trembling limp body tossed around as you fell onto your back. The male planted gentle kisses on your damp forehead trailing down your body, his sharp fangs sucking and leaving marks in your skin. His hips are holding your legs apart while he presses his clothed erection against your bare heat.

“I could smell you all day. It’s driving me crazy.” Atsushi slurred with excitement as he felt pleasure from the light friction of his hips against your wetness, enjoying the feeling of his pants becoming moist from the combination of his saliva and your cum.

He was aroused at the thought of getting you pregnant, eager to satisfy what your body has been begging him to do all day: fill you with his children. You did not refuse him, nodding your head eagerly. You anticipated his entry, desiring to feel him deep inside. The warmth of both of your fluids blending together, his cum gradually leaking out of you in the end.

Atsushi gave you one small kiss on your lips before backing away from you, unbuttoning his pants and sliding them, along with his underwear that were basically soaked at this point, off of his legs. Making his way back to you, he grabbed your weak legs and bent them towards your chest, holding them down with his body as he finally slipped inside.

Groaning with delight as his tip penetrates your wet, aching hole, every nerve in your body shivered, a fucked-out expression painted on your face. The feeling is intense, a mix of sensations that make you struggle for air. Your hands clutch his shoulders, fingers pressing into his skin, your nails creating faint marks against his back.

The grunt Atsushi let out fueled your body, your hips meeting his in a slight roll. His arms slithered around your back tightly and feeling his warm breath against your neck causes shivers to run down your spine. Atsushi took a deep breath, your strong scent made him feel intoxicated, urging him to just start pounding into you but he held back to keep you from getting hurt.

“You feel so good around me, so perfect.” He finally filled you up, slowly starting to move while watching as you struggled with the tight mating press he had you in.

You desperately wanted to roll your hips without getting all cramped up within your legs and hips, but to no avail. He watched you with a pout, pulling out until his tip was about to slip before thrusting inside you.

Atsushi was not that big, but he had girth. He pushed your walls in a way that had you screaming with all his rough thrusts. He felt everything, and it was as amazing as he had imagined. Every time he pushed in deeply, you gripped him tightly as if you were meant solely for each other.

Your body was intended for his gaze. The way your breasts swayed with each forceful push from him, the sweat beading on your skin, and the pleasant fragrance emanating from you. Only he was able to witness this. You occupied his mind in ways that were unprecedented by anyone else.

He felt himself grow close and he could feel you were close too, noticing your increasingly loud drawn out moans and carefully observing your reactions to his movements, hoping for a repeat of this in the future. He cherished you and desired to make you his permanently.

The last push was forceful, pinning you down as he ejaculated inside of you. A trembling moan escaped him as he felt you tightening around his length. Your orgasm washed over you as soon as you felt him breed you, letting out a gasp, you threw your head back against your pillow.

Atsushi thrusted inside once more, watching as your mixed fluids emptied around him. Pulling out softly with a stutter of his hips, he whimpered from slight overstimulation. His thumb gently pushed his cum back inside, watching your filled heat pulsate.

He came back up to where you laid, your breath heavy after his frantic actions. He softly placed a kiss on your lips, feeling as you kissed him back. His heart filled with happiness, this all felt good.

“Sorry if I went hard on you. I love you. Let me run a bath and clean you off.” Atsushi whispered in your ear, planting kisses everywhere.

“I love you more.” You grinned, leaning into every kiss he placed, softly nodding your head at his bath proposal.

[abiiors]

everything is blue ✨ // matty healy x reader

a/n: nnn. that's it, that't the plot. gotta thank @theungracefulgrace for the idea, i hope i did it justice <3 cw: smut, thigh riding and matty is a bit pathetic in this lmao, maybe even subby??? is this my subby matty debut??? wc: 1.9k (smaller than i thought actually...)

“you two are disgusting,” george snickers from behind his drums as you make your way onto matty’s lap. 

it’s light-hearted and teasing—your friend taking the piss out of both of you but matty scoffs and you stick your tongue out.

“jealous,” you tease, “i’m going to wait until charli shows up and then we’ll talk.”

“yeah let’s talk then, mate,” matty quips from next to you and it only takes him another second to push his hands inside your t-shirt and place them on your bare stomach, almost caressing your ribs. 

it tickles and you squirm away, alerting george once more. 

“not going to start snogging in front of me, are you?” he turns around making an exaggerated vomiting gesture and scrunches his face at you. matty, almost predictably, takes that as a challenge. 

within moments, you feel his fingers lightly closing around your jaw, turning your face and capturing your lips in his. matty’s chest is pressed against your arm and his heartbeat echoes through your entire body, thrilling you to your very core when you feel the slight spike in it as your tongue grazes his bottom lip. his other arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer as matty deepens the kiss and hums in your mouth, sending vibrations through your entire body. in turn your heart skips a beat. you don’t break apart until you hear a loud cough in the vicinity. and george stares back at both of you, truly disgruntled now. 

“bleurgh,” he makes a face. “like i said, digusting.”

“and like she said,” matty snorts, “jealous.”

“simp!”

“idiot!”

“oh, very clever mate!”

“oh—”

“alright, that’s it!” you interrupt matty before he can retort any further and he glares at you in return. “you’re fighting like twelve year olds.”

matty smirks. “weren’t snogging me like—”

you clamp your hand over matty’s mouth before he can finish his vulgar sentence earning you two juvenile giggles—one slightly muffled by your hand. 

“you are like an animal,” george teases again, earning an expression of utter betrayal from matty. 

“how dare yo—”

“prove it then!” he challenges. his mouth curls into a smirk and your eyes narrow. you know this expression on george. you know he’s up to something. 

“we are in november,” he grins cheekily. “the month of chastity and all.”

“can it!” you warn but it’s too late. matty’s smirk already mirrors george’s. you can practically see the cogs turning in their heads and you know what’s about to happen. 

“a bet,” george shifts in his seat looking eager and devious. matty does the same, gently setting you off his lap and placing a quick apologetic kiss on your head when you protest. 

“a bet,” he repeats. 

and then with utter disgust, you watch the two men in front of you spit on their hands and shake on their deal.

at first it’s fun—watching him turn red and squirm every time you get out the shower with just a towel wrapped around you. a few times, you even see him immediately sit on his hands or busy himself in his phone, making you giggle. the few times after that, he leaves the room entirely—practically running away like a virgin catholic school boy. 

the first few days are okay, fun even. you send him a selfies—towel just high enough for your nipples to be covered, barely covering your ass, showing its curve very well with the way you pose; on your bed, wearing his t-shirt and only his t-shirt, hand buried suggestively between your thighs—matty threatens to block you, accusing you of wanting to make him lose. 

he kisses you like usual, though. that’s the one thing he can’t stop doing. if anything, it feels like his mouth is attached to yours any chance he gets. it’s like he’s compensating, even letting you straddle him and deepen it until he has to pull away with a pained expression.

“how would george know?!” you whine and watch him pout. 

“trust me, he would,” matty sighs, shoulders slumping, “i would stop looking so fucking miserable for one.”

you fume quietly, realising you let yourself become collateral damage. he is so close that his cologne permeates your fucking lungs—earthy, sweet and matty. always surrounded by the smell of cigarettes and now his body wash that’s somehow become the most enticing scent in the world. 

“can’t lose one week in, baby.” his face pinches into one big sad expression and you frown at him. 

one whole week of being so close to him and cuddling at night in bed, one week of feeling his leg part your thighs in his sleep, of feeling his thigh graze against your clit and making you hiss. one week of having him right here but not having him at all. 

you shift on his lap, feeling the coarse material of his jeans against the insides of your thighs—not that you’re wearing much, just a big t-shirt and underwear, while he’s still in his jeans and t-shirt and not yet ready for bed—and an idea sparks. 

“so don’t lose,” you smirk, moving again, straddling him with a hand on his chest. “the bet was for you to not cum. i am nowhere mentioned in it.”

“what a-are you doing?” matty stutters. he actually fucking stutters, eyes wide and roaming all over your body, particularly focused on where you’re pressed up on his thigh and already on your way to discarding your underwear. 

“what does it look like i’m doing, baby?” you lift up slightly, quickly sliding your underwear off and deliberately stuffing it in the pocket of his jeans. 

he whines and the muscles of his thigh shift right under your bare cunt. 

as if on auto-pilot, his hands grip either sides of your waist, pressing you down onto him even though his face looks utterly devastated and hungry. 

“maybe i could do this with your pillow instead, hmm? cum all over it while thinking about you?” you taunt, gyrating your hips and grinding all over his thigh, already soaking his jeans with how turned on you are. it has the precise effect you’re hoping for.

“no–fuck,” he whines, “stay here. use me, please, but stay here.”

“use you, yeah?” your mouth ghosts over his, hand trailing up his chest and tracing the contours of his throat with your nails, tracing all the delicate veins and the flutter of his rapid pulse. matty’s breath quickens and comes out in sharp pants. it’s almost like he can’t handle it, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore.

“touch me, touch me please!” he begs, eager and desperate when you quirk an eyebrow at him.

“touch you how?”

instead of answering, matty takes your hand off his throat and presses in on the bulge in his jeans, sighing at the pressure. he’s practically twitching under your hand, squirming even before you’ve properly even touched him. 

“can’t lose now, my darling, can you?” you marvel at the way your voice sounds, sultry and dominating with just a hint of condescensation. it’s power like you’ve never felt before. it makes the blood in your veins heat up even more, makes it flow faster. 

so you dig the heel of your palm onto his crotch, drag it up and then down and feel him twitch. feel him grow impossibly hard. matty's body shudders on the sofa like he's not even in there—just a puppet lying there pliant for your pleasure.

“but—”

you bend down to kiss him and feel all his complaints die on his lips. matty whimpers, moving his hips against your hand, thrusting forward almost, but you put an end to it almost immediately and laugh when he whines into the kiss. 

“i want to cum, fuck, need to so so bad!” his curls droop over his eyes. eyes that stare at you with such blatant lust that it throws you off kilter, almost makes your hips stutter but the pressure feels so good! the friction is enough to reduce every single thought in your brain down to a lumpy mush. 

“yeah?” you whisper in a tightly controlled breathy voice, “but you look so pretty when you beg sweet boy.”

he swallows roughly, transfixed on you and looking utterly fucked and unable to do anything other than keep his hands on your hips and help you ride his thigh, let you get off on him while he watches helplessly and writhes under your touch. 

“baby…” he whimpers again when you move your free hand through his curls, tugging at some of the strands and pushing them out of his eyes. 

your thighs burn with the strain, a delicious fucking ache that starts from deep within you and slowly spreads to the very tips of your fingers and the wet, sticky spot on matty’s jeans grows larger, right as your moans grow louder. 

“fuck, matty…” you bend down, mouth right next to his ear, right on his sweat soaked skin, “so fucking good for me, my pretty boy. make–shit! making me feel so good.”

your movements gain speed and you throw your head back, ignoring him entirely and chasing your own pleasure. no doubt he’s rather occupied with your tits bouncing in his face, seeing as how his hand trails up to trace them, to pinch your hard nipples between his fingers. 

“shit!” you cry out, “gonna cum baby. make me cum okay? good boy…”

matty’s back arches off the sofa—eager to obey, so so eager to please—pushing your t-shirt up and flicking his tongue over your nipples, nipping them with his teeth. matty alternated between tongue and teeth, licking and sucking the sensitive skin until there are bruised on your breasts, until you can barely distinguish one thought from another. until finally, you tip over the edge. 

there’s a moment where all you recall is crying out his name, breathing harsh and uneven, and then a moment stretched on to infinity that’s just pure fucking bliss. undiluted ecstasy. and then your hips finally stutter to a stop, just as you open your eyes hazily. 

the sight in front of you almost brings you to your knees again. matty’s jaw hangs open, mouth wet and red and raw and bitten—the absolute portrait of being fucked, and yet he hasn’t even been touched yet. hasn’t shed a single item of clothing. tears of frustration gather in his eyes while his hair falls all over his forehead. he can’t even make a single sound. not even a peep. 

this must have been torture for him and you know it. a sadistic side of you even relishes in it. “did you have fun?” you tease. “i certainly did…”

when you kiss matty again, you can physically feel the jolt in his body, as if his heart restarts, thumping in his chest wildly while he’s still speechless and focused entirely on you. 

matty makes a broken sound in his throat—somewhere between a “yes” and a “please” and maybe even your name. but you don’t let him finish. 

instead, you swipe your fingers through your soaked folds just as the trembling in your body subsides, collecting your slick and bringing it up to his lips that are still parted in shock. 

“a little thank you,” you place the fingers on his tongue, laughing when he swirls his tongue around them. “for being such a good boy.” 

“a good boy…” he repeats, voice hoarse and barely even audible. and you know the fun is just getting started…

lemme know what you think <33

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[redheadspark]

may i have Benedict x reader from bridgerton with prompt #25

A/N - So cute for Benedict! Thanks for the request, anon!

Overflowed

Summary - Benedict knows how to make you smile

Warnings - Angst and fluff rolled into one :)

If there was one thing you loved about your life being a Bridgerton, it was how it was never boring or mundane.

It all started when you met your future husband, Benedict.  You both were attending art class at one of the most prestigious schools in the area, sitting side by side during one of the night classes and going through one of the lectures.  Benedict came from a wealthy family, prestigious family, which that had a major reputation for being well-loved and compassionate in charities and amongst other families.  You heard about his family for some time, though your family was not part of that circle since you were not well off.  In fact, you were attending the art school on a full-ride scholarship, not wanting to take it for granted and keeping your nose in your books and canvas.  But that night as Benedict plopped down next to you with his laptop out and ready to try, he looked over at you as you were handwriting your notes instead of typing it out.

He smiled, leaning over and saying in a low tone, “I like your handwriting.  It’s lovely,”

It was safe to say you are smitten with him from then on out.

You both sat together for the rest of the semester, learning about each other and becoming friends.  All of those rumors and stories that you hear about his family both seemed true and untrue.  He was kind, and humble in his upbringing and just wishing to be a better artist but not afraid to talk about his family and all of their endeavors.  He showed interest in you and what you liked about art, which pieces you liked and hated.  Although you were hesitant and wanted to keep your guard up when it came to letting in someone new in your life, Benedict snuck in always. 

Your first date was actually at the local county fair, Benedict asked you out after several months of building a friendship. It was surprising that he took you to a county fair, some of your other friends were already spewing theories about him taking you to a luxury restaurant or even on a yacht since his older brother Anthony did that with his now wife Kate. But not with Benedict, he would prefer to laugh with you and eat fried fair food and look at the street vendors.  

He made you laugh while attempting to win you a stuffed animal at the games, though you tried to warn him that they were rigged.  Benedict threw one baseball a bit too hard and almost broke the tent wall behind the plate that he was attempting to smash.  You laughed, the vendor scowling at him as Benedict took your hand and you both bolted before you were caught.  Benedict loved the sound of your laugh, he mentally would remember that moment for the rest of his life.  Throughout the night, you felt your walls coming down slowly with him and how he made you smile and giggle without you realizing what he was doing. Benedict was more down to earth than anything that night, then taking you to the local art show that was placed in the back of the fair.  

“I thought you would rather see something like this than at a fancy gallery,” He explained, you grinning from ear to ear as you both were gazing at the paintings and sketches from local painters and artist that were selling their art.  To think that he had all the money he would ever need, the reputation to be put in the pockets of people with power, but he simply wanted to be with you.

You shared your first kiss that night, his lips tasting of popcorn and soda pop.

Dating Benedict was both thrilling and intimidating at the same time. You were taken into his world, filled with wealthy relatives and charities that would sell dinner seats for thousands of dollars.  You barely had 1000 dollars to your name, let alone in your savings, but Benedict never minded it.  His own family was insanely sweet and kind to you, seeing how you made the artist in the family so happy and filled with joy.  Of course, they would tease you about his aloofness and his quirky nature, but you saw the same compassion and authenticity that was in Benedict in each of his siblings and his kind mother.  

However, you were a fish out of water with those dinners and events that you attended on Benedict’s arm.  The small talk with the fellow guests seemed forced and almost dry, Most of them were grilling you with questions about your own life, if you came from a rich family, or if you had any investments.  The pressure was a bit much at times, Benedict sensing it when you sat side by side during the dinners.  But the great thing about Benedict was that he would attempt to make you laugh during those tense moments, by any means necessary.  Comments under his breath, jokes that he knew were not great dinner conversation, his sense of humor was once again winning and making you come out of your shell a bit more.

Anthony could have sworn he saw you giggling and hiding your smile behind your napkin as Benedict whispered in your ear.  Anthony knew it then, you two were meant to be together.

Not everything was happy and positive with you two when it came to your love for one another. Because of your more humbled upbringing, your family bought of Benedict as dragging you along to use you.  It was hard to hear that from them, they all thought it was some kind of ruse and not real.  No matter how many times you defended your love for Benedict and told them constantly that you both were insanely happy together.  Even your ex was spewing hate on your relationship, which hurt a bit more since you and your ex were a bit sour together.  

But in the end, Benedict always came through by comforting you and making you feel safe.  He would constantly hug you and remind you that you were strong and adored, that you’d come so far in earning your degree and working at a gallery, fighting tooth and nail with your advantages and no leg up.  He admired you for that, and to see you feel defeated by others and their words broke his heart.  Plenty of nights were shared holding each other and talking through those bitter moments, it felt better to talk to him about it and get it off your chest than to hold it in.

And every time, Benedict would end up making you laugh and bringing you joy.  

“I think I found mummy!”  You looked up from your spot on the loveseat, holding an important letter in your fingers as your husband waltzed into the room with your 3-year-old daughter on his back and squealing in joy.  You beamed, watching your husband act like a horse and neighing as he was galloping around the small living room and your daughter laughing her head off with her ringlets dancing behind her.  

“Look, mummy!  Daddy’s a horsey!” She shrieked as Benedict was going in circles around your loveseat, you placing the letter on the coffee table and standing up with your hands on your hips.

“Quite the handsome horse too!” You teased, Benedict, slowing down and laughing as he stood in front of you.  Your daughter, Emma Violet Bridgerton, poked her head over his shoulder and you saw the same shade of green that her father had in her eyes.  She reached out to you with grabby hands, to which you scooped her in your arms to hug her tight, breathing in her sweet scent and feeling her arms around you.

5 years of marriage was no easy feat, but it was rewarding.  You both got married in the spring, then found a decent apartment in the downtown area that was close to the gallery you were now running and Benedict sold some of his work to get some money in your pockets. He would rather make money not by his name but by his art, using an alias with his art and not giving out his true identity.  It worked in his favor, his work being sold globally and making his alias a household name.  Your net worth grew, though tedious at times, but it grew nonetheless.  

So the news that you were pregnant two years into your marriage was a surprise, but the best kind since Benedict was over the moon at the thought of being a father.  Sure, he never thought about being a father so soon, but he didn't despise the thought of it.   Yet you were the one who was afraid of parenthood, mostly because of your own experience with your parents and how they were with you.  They were harsh, far too realistic, and at times brutal.  Did you want to inflict that on your own child?

“You are not your mum and dad,” Benedict reminded you one night as you two were lying in bed, you telling him what was festering in your mind and what you were fearing.  He had one arm around your shoulders, and his other hand was resting on your lower stomach while he was staring at you lovingly, “We are gonna love this baby and make sure that there is nothing but happiness in this home.  Plus, I bet you we’ll make mistakes here and there.  Especially me, I bet you I’m gonna put the diaper on the wrong way,”

You smiled softly, “More than once?” You asked to ask sheepishly, Benedict’s smile got wide.

“Are you kidding, over a dozen times at least!” He explained, you laughing as he went on, “And I’ll be singing to our baby with my horrible singing voice, you’re gonna hate it!”

As soon as Emma Violet Bridgerton was born, Benedict was over the moon in love with her.

“We were looking for you in hopes you were wanting to come get ice cream with us!” Benedict explained to you as Emma perked up and looked at you with her father’s eyes she inherited.

“Can we, mum?” She asked with hope in her voice, you eyeing her and then her father.

“Before dinner?” You asked in a joking tone, Emma giggling glee as you tickled her sides, “The scandal of it all!  What will the neighbors say!  We must get ice cream then since I have been craving chocolate!”

“Hooray!” Emma said in victory, the there of you walking out of the living room together as a happy family.  You left the letter behind, another disappointing letter from your parents who were reprimanding you for shielding your daughter from her grandparents.  But you were having none of it, you may have before when things were still tender with them. Yet not now, not with this life that was overflowing with happiness.  

The overflowing will never end, not if Benedict had anything to do with it.

The End.

May Prompt Session