#too dark i would not want to see the tags they would make me sad and also my notes would be a nightmare again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

captainlunaxmen · 2 months

Text

First Sight

Dark!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

Here we are! Sorry for the wait, but I thought I had everything planned out and... I didn't, so I'm sorry I made you wait this long❤️❤️❤️

Let me know what you think, please, because this is my first time writing a dark fic, so feedback is highly encouraged in this case🙏🙏🙏

Summary: Y/n has been part of the Covey since she can remember, when her best friend Lucy Gray is chosen for the Hunger Games her world is threatened, she need to stay strong for her family. She's never been one to love attention. She never wants to draw too much anyway, gladly leaving the stage to her best friend, but she managed to catch someone's attention anyway. A young, ambitious man from the Capitol saw her for just a moment, but that was enough to make an obsession grow inside him.

Warnings: dark fic, obsession, harassment, smut, rape.

Tag list:

@7s3ven @wintersforest @tallulah477 @diannnnsss @that-one-person-blue @kemo19

"Are you sure you want to wear that?" Y/n asks her best friend as they get ready to, yet, another reaping day.

"Of course." Lucy Gray answers, simply as ever, "at least I'll look pretty when they say my name."

"If." Y/n reminds her, "if they say your name."

"After all that mess with Billy Taupe? Mayfair will surely ask her daddy to pull some strings." Lucy Gray slightly scoffs.

"Maybe not..."

"You're too optimistic sometimes." She smiles at her friends, fixing the colourful skirt down.

"I just don't want to think about the worst." Y/n replies, tightening the belt on her own dress.

"Better get used to it."

They share a look, one filled with hope yet resignation too. They smile at each other and walk hand in hand out their home to get to the town square for the annual reaping.

--------------

They hold each other's hand until Lucy Gray's name is announced, and after a quick squeeze, she lets her friend's hand go to walk to the stage.

Y/n's breathing is heavy and frantic. She can't believe it, and when she notices Billy Taupe trying to talk to Lucy Gray, she has to contain herself from hitting him with a shoe... or two.

But her eyes are on her best friend walking up, and then she notices something in her hand. Y/n has to contain her laughter when Lucy Gray puts that something in Mayfair's dress. She can guess it was either a snake or a small lizard. Without much reaction to Mayfair's screams and the mayor's order to help his daughter Lucy Gray walk the stairs, but before she could get on, the mayor slaps her right in the face, making her fall Y/n's feet move on their own, she need to be blocked by a Peacekeeper to realise what was happening. She looks behind her to the rest of the Covey, scared and helpless. So the only thing that comes up to her mind is the only things that always help them all.

Music.

Y/n sings the first verse of one of their favourite songs, and when the other Covey follow Lucy Gray stands up and sings too.

She sends a sad smile to her family before walking away with Jessup and the Peacekeepers.

"Clear the square!" One of the Peacekeepers yells, and everyone starts to walk away to their own business.

"Let's go home." Y/n hugs Maude Ivory, and motion to the rest to follow her.

"Will we ever see her again?" CC asks.

"One thing about Lucy Gray is that she should never be underestimated." She replies, "So... she still hasn't sung her last song."

--------------

Coriolanus Snow is a collected man. Whatever happens to him, he tries his best not to show any reaction to it. But he almost can't help the gasp after he saw the girl from 12. He noticed how she wanted to reach her friend after the mayor slapped her.

Some people would dare say it's love at first sight, Coriolanus doesn't exactly know what to believe, he never felt like that before, he feels like all he could do all day is think of her, just that and it would be almost enough for him... only having her would satisfy him properly.

But he can't risk it... he can't risk his winning for someone he only saw for mere seconds.

He needs to keep his eyes on the real goal.

--------------

When he got home that day and talked to Tigris, he thought he left the girl in the back of her mind.

"I can't even imagine how her family must feel... that girl, did you see her?" Tigris asks, "her eyes when that man slapped Lucy Gray..."

"Yeah... she was ready to jump in and defend her." Coriolanus says casually, "she sang for her."

"I bet they sang a lot together... both of them got a beautiful voice." Tigris guesses, sadness evident in her voice.

"Beautiful indeed." Coriolanus whispers.

Now, his mind is back on her.

That nameless girl from 12. How did she manage to strike him like that? How she stepped out of line to reach her friend, how she sang for her. What was it?

"You okay, Coryo?" Tigris snaps him out of his thoughts.

"Who do you think she was?" He asks.

"Who?" Tigris is confused.

"That girl, the one who sang for Lucy Gray." He specifies.

"Oh... uhm.. I don't know. Her sister? Or maybe a friend, I don't know." She answers, still confused by her cousin's question. "Why do you want to know?"

"No reason." Coriolanus shakes his head, "Goodnight, Tigris."

Without waiting an answer he walks to his bedroom, gets ready for bed and lies on it with one thought in mind.

Surprisingly, not the Hunger Games.

No.

The nameless girl from 12.

--------------

Y/n helped Maude Ivory carry the small television their neighbours landed them so they could keep up with the games and, most importantly, Lucy Gray.

"Remember you have to babysit their babies this week, okay?" Y/n tells the young girl as they plug the television in.

"Of course, are you going to sell your bread?"

"Yes, I left some dough to rise this morning. By tonight, it'll be ready to bake." She assures her.

"Is it on?" CC comes in followed by Tam Amber.

"I think... if I do this." Y/n hits the box hard, and suddenly the screen turns on.

"Careful!" Maude Ivory shouts.

"He told me it needs it sometimes. It's okay." Y/n waves her off as the screen finally shows some movements, still no sound, but it's still something.

"Who is that?" CC asks, as a man appears on the screen wearing a high-collared suit and gelled hair, "is he a clown?"

"Could be..." Y/n sighs.

"Where is he?" Tam Amber asks, getting closer.

"No idea... there are bars behind him... I think..." Y/n tries to answer, but the scene is not clear yet, so she hits the television again.

"Y/n!"

"See? Now it's better." Y/n nonchalantly says, "seems like a cage... wait..."

"There's people inside." CC notices, "are those the tributes?"

"Oh god... probably."

"Can you see Lucy Gray?" Tam Amber asks.

"There... I think she's the only one wearing so much colour." Muade Ivory points at a point in the back.

"Yes, that's her... who's that with her?" Y/n moves closer to the screen, "he looks too cleaned up to be a tribute."

"No idea." CC says.

The host notices them too and apparently asks them to get closer.

Y/n looks more attentively at the guy, inspecting him now closer to the camera, it's clear he's not from the districts.

"Could it be someone from the Capitol?" The little one suggests.

"He could be... but why is he in there?" Y/n sighs, frustrated, "damn it, why can't we hear anything?"

"Y/n! I'm so sorry!" Barb yells from the kitchen.

Y/n is immediately on her feet running to her.

"What happ-" she starts but stops as soon as she see the bowl with the dough she prepared on the floor, "how?"

"I was cleaning and I accidentally hit it. I'm so sorry." Barb Azure explains, apologising again.

"It's..." Y/n lets out a puff of air, "it's okay, I can still save some. Don't worry."

"I'm really sorry."

"It's okay, really." She immediately pick up what she can from the floor, "I can save some. We'll just sell a little less than usual, tomorrow I'll make more."

"I'm..."

"Don't, it's okay, I promise. Go see Lucy Gray on TV, c'mon." She nudges the girl and kneel down to clean, " go."

Y/n watches Barb Azure disappear in the other room, takes a deep breath and goes back to work.

--------------

They managed with selling the bread, the milk, the occasional jewellery Y/n makes and the performance at the Hob to survive.

Y/n haven't been sleep well since Lucy Gray entered the Arena. She's glad Jessup and her managed to escape the toher tributes and found somewhere to hide. But Y/n can't help the anxiety devouring her everyday, she tries to ease the Covey, making them distracted with everything she could think of, but even singing and dancing isn't the same.

Y/n decided to forbid them from watching the games after Jill's, she thinks her name was, death and Reaper lined up the corpses of the others. She didn't want to risk them seeing Lucy Gray among them... she doesn't even know is she herself could.

But tonight Y/n feels like she needs to watch, she has to, for Lucy Gray, a way to be with her. She tries to spot her in the arena, and when the screen show Coral and Treech finding her in a air vent, Y/n stands immediately getting closer to the screen, and needs to hold in a scream when Coral manages to male her friend fall.

Out of her hiding space.

Back in the arena.

Suddenly a giant tank is lowered into the arena Y/n feels her breath stop. Nothing good could come out of there, nothing good comes from the Capitol.

The little girl from 8 get closer, thinking it's their signal they're going home, but unfortunately the tank breaks and thousands of colourful snakes creep out covering her small figure, most likely killing her.

They all run, run to a higher ground, the boy from 4 falls and the snakes caught up with him.

Lucy Gray and Coral run, while Reaper lets the snake take him.

Y/n holds her breath as she watches Coral say something to Lucy Gray, unfortunately they never managed to fix the sound so she can't hear them, but she can understand when Coral is dead, as the snakes tie themselves around her.

That leaves Lucy Gray the last one... she's won.

"What..."

Why aren't they letting her out? Usually they stop once there's only one left.

Lucy Gray keeps backing away from the snakes, and Y/n can see her mouth moving, she doesn't hear, but she can guess she's singing. Usually snakes there in 12 like music, maybe she's trying it with the Capitol's ones too.

When Lucy Gray's face points direct the camera it's clear ad the day that she's singing, with all the strength she has.

"Let her out." Y/n whispers.

Suddenly, the screen changes signaling that Lucy Gray indeed won the Hunger Games.

"Oh my god!" Y/n can't help but scream, she doesn't care if everyone is already asleep.

"What's going on?" Tam Amber walks in, sleepy face and all, followed by Maude Ivory.

"She won!" Y/n screams again.

"Lucy Gray won?!" Moude Ivory immediately runs to hug Y/n.

"She did it!"

"Does that mean she's coming home?" CC asks, he too arrived after hearing all the noise, Barb Azure too.

"I think so." Y/n nods, smiling like never before, a heavy burden is finally off her shoulders and she can let out a sigh of relief, "she's coming home."

--------------

"Your life has just begun." Sejanus tells him as they both travel to district 12, "you're gonna do great. We're both gonna do great."

"Just be careful, okay?" Coriolanus says to him, "it's a different world out here."

"Look at the bright side." He simply replies, and Coriolanus sends him a questioning look, "she might be there."

"Who are you talking about?"

"I heard you and Lucy Gray talking once." He starts, "you asked about the girl who sang for her at the reaping ceremony."

"I.." Coriolanus is caught off guard.

"You're lucky, Ma always told me stories when I was younger about love at first sight." He explains, "the way you ask more and more about her... you can't fool me." He lets out a small chuckle.

"And if she's not there?" Coriolanus asks.

"Why wouldn't she?"

"What if they killed Lucy Gray and she just doesn't want to have anything to do with me? How about that?" He challenges.

"They wouldn't. She was a hit, Coryo. There's no reason for them to kill her." Sejanus tells him, "so you know her name?"

Of course he does, it's the very first thing he asked Lucy Gray. He's been reciting her name since he learned it.

"Y/n." He smiles as he says it.

--------------

"You're singing with me tonight." Lucy Gray warns Y/n, as they gather the instruments they need for tonight's performance, the first since Lucy Gray got back.

"I am... so not doing it." Y/n replies, shaking her head.

"Why not?" She pouts.

"Because I... I'm not." Y/n simply answer, not meeting her eyes.

But Lucy Gray doesn't give up so easily, she tries to make eye contact with her friend, she knows she wouldn't resist.

"Give me a good reason." Lucy Gray challenges again.

"Because... The people want you." Y/n tells her, "you're better at singing than me."

"That's not true." Maude Ivory chimes in, "they loved you."

"Thank you..." Y/n says sarcastically, "I'm not doing it."

"Oh c'mon, I got back, think of it as a welcome back present!" Lucy Gray nudges her friend, "pleeeease."

"Nope, I was almost fainting the whole time I was on stage." Y/n shake her head once again, "not gonna happeen" she sings the last bit.

"You had to refuse me with that beautiful voice of yours too?" Lucy Gray accuses with a laugh.

"Yap." Y/n replies, "c'mon, we don't want tot be late."

"This is not the end." Lucy Gray warns her friend before taking her hand and then, with the rest of the Covey, head to the Hob.

--------------

Coriolanus couldn't contain himself, he can't wait to get out and find his girl.

She is his, he can't see it any other way.

They enter the Hob and Sejanus goes to get them a drink, while Coriolanus looks around, taking in the place, listening to the music.

His eyes find themselves on the stage, as a little girl goes to the mic.

"Is it hot in here?"

They must be the Covey Lucy Gray talked so much about, but he still can't spot Y/n. Where could she be?

The audience cheers loudly

"'Cause we're planning on heating it up a set more!" The girl screams, "the one, the only, Lucy Gray Baird!"

Coriolanus' ears perk up at her name, maybe his girl is with her.

Lucy Gray enters the stage, spinning with her guitar in hand, smiling as brightly as ever.

"Oh hey district 12, did you miss me?" She asks the audience, that immediately replies with a loud "Yes!"

"I bet you never expected to lay eyes on me again. And let me tell you, that goes both ways, but I am back. " She cheers, "I sure am back. Oh is that bottle there for me?" She asks pointing at a bottle of alcohol someone's holding up, " oh c'mon y'all, you know I gave up drinking when I was 12," she fakes complain and takes a sip, "just to clear my pipes, just to clear my pipes! Now, how about a song, uh?" Everyone cheers, happy, "but, I can't, you know." The audience lets out confused and discontent noises, Lucy Gray glances slightly at the side of the stage, in the dark Coriolanus can't see anything, "it's been a while and I don't feel like singing alone tonight. But I'm afraid, my sweet best friend, won't do me the favour... how about you help me convince her?"

The audience immediately burst into a wave of cheers and applauses.

"Do you want her?"

The cheering gets louder.

"Y/n!" Lucy Gray yells, "c'mon out, babes!"

"Y/n. Y/n. Y/n!" The audience chants.

And at last, she walks on the stage, glaring at her friend playfully.

Coriolanus heart skips a beat as he watch her walking to her friend, he never thought he could get more enamoured with her, but here she is, and he can't seem to take his eyes off her. The way she takes the guitar Lucy Gray offers her, the way she timidly smiles at the audience, once again glaring at her friend for putting her in this position.

"See? They love you!" Lucy Gray points at the audience, "now, let's show them how it's done!"

Lucy Gray nudges her friend with her hip as Y/n starts to play the guitar.

Coriolanus eyes are solely on her, and she isn't even aware of it, he can afford admiring her a little more before making her his.

--------------

Lucy Gray is the happiest since she managed to have Y/n sing and dance with her, but the moment he notices a familiar pair of eyes he freezes for an instant.

Coriolanus Snow is here in 12, and he's looking, no... he's staring at her friend.

She notices his weird interest in Y/n from the many unusual questions he made when they were talking. She didn't like how he was talking and asking about her friend like that, like he thought she was his already. She always dismissed it as a stupid sensation, maybe it's exactly that, just her sensation. He might like her, but nothing bad... not necessarily. She doesn't want to think bad of it.

Of course she told the Covey about everything that happened in the Capitol, she just didn't mention this particular thing, to protect her.

She take advantage of an instrumental break to tell Y/n.

"He's here." She says.

"Who?" Y/n asks, looking at the crowd, locking eyes with a blonde man.

"My mentor, the one I talked to you about." Lucy Gray answers.

"Is he blonde?" Y/n asks and Lucy Gray nods,"Why is he here?"

"No idea."

Y/n simply shrugs and keeps play while Lucy Gray sings, unfortunately their performance is cut short by Billy Taupe intervention.

"Fuck..." Y/n sighs, keeping playing, "it's not the first time he acts like that."

"I know you miss me, Lucy Gray." Billy Taupe drunkenly says getting closer to the stage, followed by Mayfair trying to stop him.

"You said you wouldn't play with them anymore." She complains.

Lucy Gray looks at the Covey rolling her eyes, Y/n rolls her own in agreement.

Suddenly Billy Taupe almost jumps on stage grabbing Lucy Gray's skirt.

"Don't touch me! After what you did, don't touch me." Lucy Gray orders him, kicking her foot to let him go of her skirt

"Y/n... Please, you're kind, you know you're all not the same without me." He moves to take Y/n's skirt now, "c'mon, make her see reason."

"Let go." Y/n tells him, she moves backwards but his grip makes her stumble and falls to the ground. Lucy Gray kneels to help her pull her skirt back.

A second later Billy Taupe is thrown to the side, making him lose his grip. The two girls look at the direction he was thrown, and they see that blonde man hitting him hard until another recruit stops him and takes him outside.

"Are you okay?" Lucy Gray asks, helping her friend to stand up.

"Yeah, yeah, all good." Y/n nods, "again, not the first time he acts like that."

"God.. I'm sorry.." the brunette says softly, picking up the guitar.

"Not your fault. Only his." She sighs, "I'm kinda glad your mentor was here, he was the only one to help."

" yeah, glad..."

"Is everything okay?" Y/n worries.

"Yeah, it's just weird seeing him here." Lucy Gray dismisses the question easily, "let's go home, c'mon"

"Okay.." Y/n isn't convinced, but decides to let it go for now, "c'mon ladies and gentlemen, let's get home."

"Wanna go practice some songs on the meadow, tomorrow?" Lucy Gray asks as they walk back home.

"I missed it so much, so of course!" Y/n cheerfully replies, earning a just as excited laugh from her friend.

--------------

Lucy Gray and Y/n played all afternoon in the meadow, like old times. It wasn't that long Lucy Gray stayed in the Capitol, but not knowing if she were to come back at all made it feel so much longer.

"I think this part should be a little slower, what do you think?" Y/n would ask after a while of playing 'The Hanging Tree'.

"This last part of the verse, you mean?" Lucy Gray checks, looking at the music sheets.

"Yeah, I think..."

Their heads snap behind them when they hear footsteps nearing.

"Sorry... we..." the same blonde man from the night before speaks, along a dark haired man, "they say we would find you out here."

"You're here... with that uniform.." Lucy Gray nervously chuckles.

"I thought they killed you." He simply says.

"Killed?" Y/n can't help the question.

"He... uhm.." his friend starts.

"I broke the rule to save her life." He answers, faking humbleness.

"The dean... Highbottom, got me on a train and gave me some money. He said you were sent to 8." Lucy Gray is quite confused.

"Change of plans." He would smile, "I'm Coriolanus Snow, by the way." He moves closer extending his hand for Y/n to take.

"She's Y/n, my best friend I told you about." Lucy Gray introduces her.

"Hi.." she shyly greets, taking his hand. She can't help the surprised "Oh..." When he, instead of shaking her hand, kisses the back of it.

"Nice to properly meet you, she talked a lot about you." Coriolanus charmingly smiles, "this is my friend, Sejanus."

"Nice to meet you," Lucy Gray shakes his hand with a bright smile.

"Nice to meet... you... too." Sejanus greets back with a sweet and kind smile.

They look at each other for a moment, just smiling. Y/n never saw he friend smiling like this with someone, she is so focused on her friend that she didn't notice Coriolanus still holding her hand, still looking at her.

"Oh sorry." Y/n finally takes notice of his hand and takes her own back, missing the pout forming on Coriolanus' face.

"All good." He whispers, "we quite enjoy the show yesterday."

"Oh.. yeah, yeah, yeah, it was great... until that guy came in." Sejanus agrees, nervously looking at Lucy Gray.

"Yeah, Billy Taupe can't accept the fact that we manage without him." She replies, smugly.

"Well, he's lucky you got back" Y/n mutters, "thanks, by the way, for getting him off and... also, of course, for saving Lucy Gray." She looks up at Coriolanus.

"A pleasure, really. There's no need to thank me." He replies, hitching to hold her hand again, to hold her to him and never let go, "anything for you."

At that Y/n takes a small step back, feeling a little nervous under his stare.

"We're going to the lake, tomorrow. Do you guys want to join?" Lucy Gray suddenly asks, surprising her best friend.

"Really?" Sejanus checks in, looking at the girls, "we'd like to."

"Of course, a way of thanking you." She assures him, "we usually go and have a sort of picnic."

"We'll look forward to it." Coriolanus too agrees.

"Yeah, it would be nice." Y/n wraps her arms around herself, to shield herself from his eyes.

"She makes an amazing apple cobbler too, the young ones loves it." The brunette praise her best friend, locking their arms together.

"You cook too?" Coriolanus is surprised, pleased, "you didn't tell me."

"She can do a lot of things, a real walking talent." Lucy Gray smiles proudly at her friend, nudging her side. Y/n's cheeks warm up at the compliments, turning her head to look away from them all.

"Always so shy, aren't you?" Coriolanus softly comments.

"She's never been the best with compliments." Lucy Gray softly chuckles, squeezing her friend's arm, "but she deserves them all."

"I'm sure she does." His soft stare makes Y/n shiver, she doesn't know why but she's intimidated by it.

"Uh..." she would start, but her eyes catch something behind the two men, "Maude Ivory." Lucy Gray follows her eyes to the little girl.

"You're friends peacekeepers." She says.

"They must be here for the fight." Y/n guesses, "I'll go handle it."

"I'm coming with you."

"Get the guitar, then." She instructs and Lucy Gray grabs the guitar.

"Hey.. we can't be seen with you, though." Coriolanus quietly tells them.

"That lake is in the woods, no one knows much about it but us, don't worry." Lucy Gray reassures him.

"That's comforting." Sejanus smiles grateful at her and she returns it.

"See you tomorrow then." Coriolanus says looking at Y/n who simply evades his stare, she politely smiles, but that doesn't stop Coriolanus from dreaming about her that night. How right their hands felt together, how beautiful she is so close... he can't wait for the next day.

He feels somehow grateful for Sejanus presence, he's sure Lucy Gray invited them both because she's interested in him. He remembers the little glances she would send his classmate at the Capitol. He will use it to his advantage, he knows how much Sejanus would love to help him get the girl of his dreams, he just needs a little push.

--------------

Y/n is making a new dough for the next day, while they're at the lake it will have time to raise. She's mostly making it to get her mind busy, to sort of preparing herself for the day at the lake with the two peacekeepers.

"Are you okay?" Lucy Gray cautiously asks, walking next to her.

"Whatever do you mean?" Y/n asks back, not glancing once at her friend.

"Mh... you're using that tone, for one." Lucy Gray nudges her, "and... you're kneading that dough as if you're chocking it. I'm pretty sure it's dead."

Y/n doesn't answer right away, she keeps kneading the dough, when she puts it in a bowl she turns to her friend.

"I'm okay." She finally says.

"Something bothering you." The singer gently takes her hand, guiding Y/n to sit with her at the table.

"Are the others sleeping?" Y/n asks, wiping her hands on a towel.

"Yeah, now tell me what's wrong." She softly urges her, "is it about tomorrow? Are you nervous or something?"

"I guess..."

"Why?" Lucy Gray asks, "do you fancy my mentor?" She tries to joke and teases her.

"No." She quickly answers, "no, really, I... it's like there's something off about him... I don't know, maybe it's just me."

Y/n lets out a heavy sigh and looks at Lucy Gray, who looks conflicted herself.

"I... uhm.." she starts, uncertain.

"What..?"

"I felt the same way when I met him... he would ask so many question about you, our life here you know, I could see he wanted to know more and more about you." She explains.

"Me? Why?" Y/n gets even more nervous.

"I think he saw you at the reaping ceremony, when you sang and... I don't know, you caught his attention."

"Oh..."

"We can cancel... or you can stay in, I don't want you to feel forced to go because I didn't think." Lucy Gray takes her hands again, reassuringly.

"No, it's okay... I mean maybe we're just looking too much into it..." Y/n shakes her head, "I kind of want to see if you and the other one move to the next step."

"You noticed.." she blushes slightly.

"You two where smiling at each other like crazy." Y/n smiles sweetly at her friend.

"He's sweet, I saw how he wanted to help the tributes during the games... but please, we don't have to go if you're uncomfortable." She checks.

"I'm fine, I promise." Y/n kisses her hands to assure her, "maybe it's just a misunderstanding. It'll be fine."

"Oh now you're comforting me?" Lucy Gray teases.

"Obviously." She smiles proudly, "how about you... how are you coping with... with the games?"

Lucy Gray's smile drops slightly, looking down at their hands, squeezing them a little tighter, scared she would be taken away again.

"I'm okay... sometimes I feel like I'm still there." Her eyes fill with tears at the memories, "I killed people, Y/n... I..."

"You can't just shake it off, right?" Y/n guesses and Lucy Gray nods without saying a word, "I won't say that I'll understand, I will try sure, I can't promise I will be able to of course, but... I'm with you, Lucy Gray, you're not alone, I won't let you deal with it alone."

Lucy Gray stands, and so does Y/n, she brings her into a warm hug. They hold each other like never before, they hugged in the past sure, but nothing like this. This hug is filled with comfort and safety, something they both need, they don't even want it to end in fear one of them could be taken away again.

"We should get some sleep." Y/n states with a chuckle, but doesn't break the hug.

"Yeah." Lucy Gray laughs, "I think we should." They pull apart, "Sorry, I really needed that."

"So did I."

With that little comfort from each other they can finally go to bed and get some sleep. Even though, Y/n can't really fall asleep so quickly, her mind constantly going to Coriolanus Snow and his eyes, his stare on her. Could it be possible that they're just imagining it or it's true?

She close her eyes for a second and the moment she opens them the first light of day greets her, making her groan.

"Fuck." She mutters out, uncovering herself and getting seated, not so ready to start the day.

"Morning." Lucy Gray's harsh morning voice greets Y/n in the kitchen as she prepares the basket for the picnic, "Did you get some sleep?"

"I did, do not worry." Y/n replies, "just... uh..."

"What?"

"Don't leave me alone with him, okay?"

Once Lucy Gray nods, Y/n gets back at the basket.

--------------

"This time of the year the water is just perfect." Maude Ivory excitedly jumps towards the lake.

"She loves the lake, if you can't tell." Y/n jokes.

"I wouldn't blame her," Sejanus says, "I'll trust her judgement, then."

"You should!" The little girl tells him, loud.

"Are you sure you don't need help?" Coriolanus offers to carry the basket for the tenth time, "I promise it's no trouble."

"And I promise it's fine, thank you." Y/n, once again, denies his help.

Coriolanus can't help the clenching in his jaw, his girl should never, ever, lift a finger. He'll make sure of it.

"We're almost there, anyway. No worries." She tries to chuckle and assure him.

"She's strong." Lucy Gray chimes in, "she never lets me do any heavy work around the house. It's crazy."

"No, well, that's because you're not the best at them." Y/n teases her.

"That's not true!" Lucy Gray laughs, "I got many talents."

"You do... not for handwork."

Lucy Gray gasps, faking offence, while the rest of the group laugh.

"How long have you been friends for?" Sejanus asks, "if I'm not intruding."

"We're basically sisters," Lucy Gray immediately answers, proudly, "our parents died and we got raised by the same person."

"I arrived after them, but everything fell into places so naturally, it felt like I found my family again." Y/n explains, with a big smile.

"Never left each other's side ever since." Lucy Gray takes her best friend's hand as they finally arrive at destination.

"We're here!" CC exclaims and Maude Ivory rushes to get into the water as soon as possible, making Y/n chuckle.

Coriolanus watches her closely, the way she worries about her family, the way she smiles, laughs and shines when she looks at the young ones. The more time he's in her presence, the more he falls in love with her, his desire to make her his growing each moment. His girl, his wife and, one day soon, his first Lady.

--------------

A day at the lake with her family is something Y/n always treasured, and will always treasure. She usually takes a few minutes to herself to enjoy the water, just floating with her eyes closed, she loves how free the stream lets her be.

The Covey always lets her live her peace... at least until it's time to eat, in that moment they would splash her until she gets to shore, earning, everytime, a glare from the poor girl.

And today should be no different, Y/n and Lucy Gray agreed not to make the others suspect their new friend makes them feel a little uneasy. So as Y/n floats on her own, Lucy Gray will try and keep an eye out to let her alone with her former mentor.

"What's she doing?" Coriolanus asks.

"Oh she likes to feel the water on her own." Lucy Gray explains, while Sejanus play with Maude Ivory, "to enjoy the moment."

"Wouldn't she be carried away by the stream?" He wonders.

"Nah, it's like the water knows where she should be."

"That's beautiful, Lucy Gray." Sejanus comments.

"Not my words." She is quick to specify, "hers."

Coriolanus spent the rest of the bath watching her, purposely ignoring his former tribute's stare. She probably wants to protect her friend, he thinks, but he's the only one who can protect her. And that he will.

"I'm starving!" Maude Ivory exclaims getting out the water towards the picnic blanket, "c'mon!"

Almost in an instant the rest of the Covey follows, apart from Lucy Gray who stays with Sejanus and Coriolanus, and Y/n floating not far.

Coriolanus shots his friend a look to tell him to get Lucy Gray away so he could have some time alone with his girl.

"I..." Sejanus stutters out, "I... I brought something. I know you two cooked for us too, so I wanted to bring something as a thanks... for the invite."

"Aaww but that's very sweet of you. You didn't need to." Lucy Gray almost melts at his words.

"I can show you. I mean they're preparing to eat so might as well help them." Sejanus suggests.

"Oh... uh... I mean..." she is hesitant, looking briefly at Coriolanus and at her friend.

"Coriolanus is here to look out for her, don't worry." Sejanus reassures her, but he doesn't know that his friend is the reason she needs to keep an eye out for Y/n.

Unfortunately, she knows she can't refuse, not without raising questions from her family nor suspects from the two peacekeepers.

"Yeah... Okay." She finally says, "but I mean, you don't have to, she's always does that. You can come with us."

"I don't mind." He's quick to reply, "I too enjoy the waters myself."

"See? No troubles at all." Sejanus smiles at her.

"We will call you soon, anyway." Lucy Gray tells him, she means it as a warning, even though Coriolanus doesn't register it that way.

"We'll be here." He smiles charmingly as always as he looks at the two climbing on the wooden deck and towards the Covey. She still watches over her friend.

As Coriolanus finally can enjoy the view he can notice her floating gently towards him.

'The water knows where she should be' Lucy Gray said, and the water is bringing her to him.

Y/n felt something touching her hand slightly, startling her.

"Oh sorry." She starts to apologise, but freezes when she sees Coriolanus in front of her.

"No need to apologise." He softly says.

"Where's everyone?" She asks.

"Preparing for the picnic." He tells her, secretly enjoy how her eyes don't meet his.

"Oh... I guess.. uh... I guess we should join them, then." She nervously chuckles, wanting more and more to not be alone with the Peacekeeper.

"Did you enjoy the water?" He asks, ignoring her suggestion.

"I... I did." She answers, "I love days like this."

With each word she slowly swims to the deck.

"I've never done this, you know." He says swimming closer.

"You don't have lakes at the Capitol?" She chuckles, again to hid her nerves.

"There's no room for nature." He simply says.

"Oh... that's... sad." She comments, feeling genuinely sad about that, "hope you're having a good day then, Mr Snow."

"Please, Coriolanus is more than fine, or Coryo... if you like." He tells her with a charming smile, internally begging her to say his name.

"Well, I hope you're having a good day, then, C-Coryo." She forces herself to smile, slightly letting out a sigh of relief when she realises she got to the wooden deck.

"The best in a long time." He catch up with her, ready to chivalrously help her climb up.

Y/n tries to be as quick as she can, but in doing so her foot slipped and she falls back into the water... in Coriolanus' arms.

"Shit..." she curses under her breath.

"You okay?" Coriolanus immediately asks, concerned.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry, I... I slipped." She tries to subtly wiggle out of his arms. While what Coriolanus wants more is to hold her even closer. "We should... uhm... get to the picnic or.. or they w-will eat everything."

"Yeah..." Coriolanus eyes constantly switch from her eyes to her lips, "probably."

He doesn't move an inch though, his eyes keeping the same route, but moving his face closer to hers.

Y/n is cornered, she wants to freak out, but he's still a Peacekeeper, who knows what he could do if she rejected him badly.

"Uhm..." she tries to come up with something to say to get out of the situation.

He's living his dream, in the meantime, he's so close to kissing his girl for the first time he wants to enjoy every second of it. His hands find their way to her waist, caressing it.

Y/n shakes, she wants to run, hit him and run away. Coriolanus interprets the shaking as shyness, he's sure she feels the same, he thinks her shaking is only in anticipation of the kiss.

So he leans closer... and closer...

"Guys!" Lucy Gray's voice saves her, "it's all set!"

"We're coming!" Y/n shouts back immediately, turning away from Coriolanus as she feels his grasp tightening slightly.

Y/n manages to climb back up and misses the frustrated clenching in Coriolanus' jaw.

--------------

They sit on the blankets they brought as they eat, Y/n managed to take a seat in between CC and Maude Ivory, away from the peacekeeper. Lucy Gray, on the other hand, sits next to Sejanus which earned a teasing smile from her friend, Coriolanus sits next to him as they everyone eats.

"You weren't lying, this is amazing." Sejanus exclaims, mouth full of Y/n's dessert.

"You're being too kind now." Y/n can only shy away from the compliment.

"Told you, she's always underestimate herself." Lucy Gray low-kye scold her friend.

"True!" CC agrees, earning a glare from Y/n.

"It really is amazing." Coriolanus chimes in, "where did you learn?"

"Oh... well, when you have to feed all these mouths, that's what you have to do." Y/n explains, "and there were times where one didn't want to eat, when they were younger and didn't fully understand the situation, so I tried my best in making something tasty with what we had."

"Well, I didn't learn." Lucy Gray tries to highlight her friend's talent.

"That's because you were earning money with your guitar and performances." Y/n replies.

"Even that, not without your help." The singer insists.

"Mine?" Y/n laughs, "what help? You're the one singing beautifully everyday."

Coriolanus assist this playful banter and can't help the jealousy raising in him. He wants Y/n to joke with him like that, not with Lucy Gray. He wants to make her blush with compliments, not Sejanus.

"But you write the songs!" Lucy Gray exclaims, with a big smile.

"Not all of them!" Y/n laughs.

"The most beautiful ones, yes." Lucy Gray shots back.

"Oh shut up!" Y/n throws her friend a piece of bread.

"Did we hear any of these songs?" Coriolanus asks, curious.

"I think so," Lucy Gray answers, "plus the one I sang in the arena it's hers."

"Which one?"

"You didn't watch the games?" Sejanus asks.

"No, I did, I did, it's just that the TV we borrowed was a little broken so we couldn't hear anything." CC answers.

"Pity..." Sejanus comments, "she sang beautifully."

"Not a surprise." Y/n smiles, "so, what song was it?"

"The old Therebefore." Lucy Gray tells her, "you know it always gives me strength."

"That was yours?" Coriolanus asks, positively surprised.

"Uh.. yeah, though, I simply rearranged an old melody." Y/n explains, shaking her head dismissively.

"Told you, walking talent." Lucy Gray grins and Y/n throws another piece of bread at her.

Coriolanus is amazed, she will be a perfect first Lady, the people of Panem will love her. He's more and more realising what a perfect choice she will be.

Y/n rolls her eyes, giving up, earning a triumphant smile from Lucy Gray.

"It made all people in the auditorium cry." Coriolanus tells them, "a real moving moment."

"At least I would've gotten one last good performance before my demise." Lucy Gray says dramatically.

"Don't say that." Y/n immediately stops her, "you're here. That's all that matters."

They reach out at the same time to hold each other's hand, Sejanus looks at them with sweet eyes, Coriolanus only feels jealousy, eyes shooting daggers at Lucy Gray.

Unfortunately the things between Sejanus and Lucy Gray have been going strong. She is so in love, Y/n's never seen her so taken by someone like she is by Sejanus. The down side of her happiness is that the peacekeeper always brings his friend around. Coriolanus, in fact, insisted and convinced Sejanus to bring him everytime he visited Lucy Gray, and Sejanus, being the good friend he is, he was glad to help his best friend. They even managed to leave Coriolanus and Y/n alone, Lucy Gray too distracted by Sejanus to notice the deception. Y/n doesn't want her to notice anyway, she's happy her friend found someone she actually like, so she's going to endure a little longer for her, Lucy Gray deserves some happiness after all the horrors she saw.

That's why Y/n's now cooking in their kitchen, with Coriolanus watching her like a hawk.

"What are you making exactly?" He asks from his spot by the small table.

"It's... a apple c-cobbler." Y/n softly answers. He would listen to her soft voice all day if he could, saying his name, begging him.

"Do you need any help?" He offers, "you know I don't mind."

She hears him standing up and walking closer to her.

"It's okay, you don't ha-" she stops mid-sentence, Coriolanus' hands softly caressing her hips froze her.

"I don't mind." He whispers into her ear, thumb striking the clothed spot.

"No... uh... i-it's o-okay... uh..." she stutters, looking around for a way to get away.

"Or maybe... " he spins her around so he's looking directly into her eyes, "we can adress... this." He motions between them, getting even closer, bodies now against one another.

"Uh..?" Y/n is confused.

"Us." Coriolanus specifies, "I don't think we can ignore it any longer."

"Uh... I don't... know..." she's at loss for words, "what..?"

"I'm pretty sure, my interest is pretty obvious." He says this almost shyly, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek, "and... I think yours is too."

"My... interest?"She shakes her head, putting her hands on his arms to try and push him off, "Coriolanus..."

"I love it when you use my name, Y/n." Coriolanus says, leaning closer, ignoring how she avoids his eyes and pushes him away.

"Just..."

"Y/n!!"

"Shit.." he mutters under his breath.

"Where are you?" Lucy Gray asks.

"In the kitchen." Y/n answers, relieved Coriolanus stepped back.

"There you are." She enters the kitchen and immediately hugs her friend, Sejanus close behind her.

"Hi." He timidly says, then notices Coriolanus by the table, "hey Coryo, didn't expect to see tou here today."

There's tension between them, Lucy Gray turns her head to look at the blonde and her face drops.

"Is everything okay, Lucy Gray?" Y/n puts a hand on her friend's shoulder, reassuringly.

"Yeah, of course." She shakes her head and smiles brightly again, "what are you making?" She changes subject.

"Uh... apple cobbler." Y/n says softly.

"Mmmhh can't wait." She hums.

There's something off about this situation, since last night's performance at the Hob all three of them have been behaving weirdly. Lucy Gray was singing and after the song she went after Sejanus and Coriolanus, she was goon for some time and when she got back something in her eyes was off. She tried to wave it off, but Y/n knew her friend and she was sure something happened. Why Lucy Gray didn't want to talk to her only added to her worries.

Unfortunately the worst was yet to come.

--------------

"What do you mean you have to leave?" Y/n asks, getting more and more agitated.

"Mayfair and Billy Taupe are dead, who do you think will be blamed?" Lucy Gray snaps back as she keeps packing a small bag.

"But you didn't! How could they prove otherwise?" Y/n insists, breathing heavily.

"The mayor will surely find a way." Her friend days bitterly, then turn to look at her in the eyes, "listen, I'll be fine. This is the only way."

"How will you go, uh?" Y/n challenges, "alone in the woods."

"I... Coriolanus said he would help." Lucy Gray answers, emotionless.

"Coriolanus?!" Y/n whisper-shouts, "do you trust him?"

"I don't have much of a choice. I told you what happened, he's involved too. That has to do." The brunette sighs deeply, "you all can join me in time. I wish you could come too now, but-"

"It will draw too much attention and we would be too easy to find." Y/n finishes her sentence, "I know... but Snow?"

"I told you, he's involved too... he's the only option. Plus... I don't have anything to keep me here anymore.."

Y/n sighs, giving up, she knows Lucy Gray is still grieving Sejanus. She walks to her friend, stopping her to hug her. Lucy Gray returns the hug immediately, crying on her friend's shoulder. Y/n, then, holds her tighter, stroking her back reassuringly.

"We'll be okay. And we will join you soon." Y/n whispers. "I promise."

--------------

It's been almost a year since Lucy Gray ran away, a year since Y/n saw her friend. She hopes Lucy Gray is fine, moat importantly she hopes her friend is alive. It was hard to explain the situation to the rest of the Covey, especially the youngest one, but she managed.

A good thing about this situation is that it's also been a year since Coriolanus Snow has been seen in district 12. Rumours has it he got back to the Capitol, Y/n wishes, whatever is the truth, that he stays as far away as possible. One of their last interactions scared her so much she hardly left the house in fear of simply seeing him.

Y/n is walking back home with her basket in hand, she sold all the jewellery and cakes she made to earn some money so she was quite content as she enters the house.

"Is anyone home?" Y/n yells as she puts down the basket and takes off her patched-up coat.

"In here." A voice calls from the kitchen and Y/n is quick to walk there, freezing on the spot when the figure of Coriolanus Snow stands in her kitchen. His hair grew in this time apparently, the new haircut makes him look even more dangerous, "Hi, my love."

"Uh..." Y/n doesn't know what to do, having him in the house after all this time feels worse than a robe around her neck, "what... what are you doing here?"

"You don't seem happy." Coriolanus states, confused.

He spent a year thinking about Y/n, working hard and constantly so he could come back to 12 and take her to the Capitol. He's been thinking about her, analysing each of their interactions to the bone. And he realised something: Y/n is yet to realise the love they're destined to share, but Coriolanus is more than willing to help.

"I... I'm confused... why... why are you here? Is Lucy Gray-"

"I don't want to talk about Lucy Gray!" He snaps.

Y/n flinches and takes a step back, he sighs deeply and pass a hand through his hair.

"I'm... I'm sorry..." she apologises, not wanting to anger him more, "you... uh... you let your hair grow..."

That seems to please him, he slightly smiles, pride growing in him.

"Yeah," he walks closer to her, "I wanted to leave the Peacekeeper behind, to welcome the future president of Panem."

"Future president..." she gasps out, slowly retreating backwards, "wow.."

"You're even more beautiful than I remembered." He brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, "I missed you."

"Why are you here?" She asks, pushing his hand away.

"I'm here to take you to the Capitol with me." He simply answers, as a matter of fact.

"What?!" She exclaims, pushing him off and putting distance between them.

"You're coming home with me." He states.

"I am home." She firmly says, noticing the clench in his jaw.

"No." He shakes his head, "no, you're not."

"I'm not coming with you." She insists, "I have people to take care of."

"They will be taken care of, if you come with me." He makes sure to emphasise the 'if'.

Y/n now realises no one else's home.

"If? Coriolanus, listen-"

"No, you listen." He interrupts her once again, "there's no thinking to do here. You're coming with me, period. You come with me and your family will be cared for, if you don't... there would be consequences."

"Is that a threat?" She shakes in fear now.

"It's a promise, my love." He gets closer again, putting a hand on her cheek, "so... what do you say now?"

"You already decided... what's the point of asking, then?" She's tearing up, too scared to move.

"Say you'll come with me." He leans closer, brushing his lips against hers, "say it."

She shakes her head, lips sealed.

But Coriolanus doesn't waste any more time, he kisses her, she backs away but he chases her until her back hits the wall forcing their lips together once again.

He kisses her, but she doesn't kiss him back, the hand on her cheek moves to her neck squeezing, as a warning. She tries to push him off, but he is stronger than her, his other hand moves to her hips pulling her closer and she starts to actually struggle.

"S-stop." She manages to stutter out.

"Give into me, my love." He mutters against her skin, kissing down her neck, "come with me, you'll want for nothing more in your life."

"No..." she weakly says, as she keeps pushing him off.

"Yes." He kisses her again, completely leaning his body against her, caging her.

"Please don't... Please." Her crying only turns him on more, he thrusts his hips against her making her feel his hard-on.

Y/n stops her movement, dread in her veins prevents her from doing anything.

"Sshh, let me take care of you." He whispers into her ear, "let me show you how good I can make you feel."

"Please... no..." her breathing gets heavier and heavier as she looks at him kneeling in front of her, "Don't."

She looks at the door, wanting to flee and leave him behind.

"Don't you dare." Coriolanus orders, looking up at her, "you try to run and I'll make sure your family pays. Am I clear, my love?"

Y/n averts her eyes from the door, to the former peacekeeper kneeling in front of her.

The hunger in his eyes is enough to make her feel like a prey being caught.

He keeps looking at her as he lifts her dress up her legs, and when he pulls her underwear down he finally break the eye contact to take a proper look at his prize.

He licks his lips and gets closer to her core, inhaling her scent.

"Stop... please Coriolanus, stop." She tries again, but her plead falls to deaf ears.

Coriolanus at hearing his name coming from her he dives himself between her legs, licking and sucking all he could, finally enjoy whatever he's been dreaming about all this time... since that reaping ceremony.

Y/n gasps when he attacks her pussy with his mouth like a starved man, she looks around hoping to find something to use as a weapon or a way to escape this. She puts her hand on his head in an attempt to push him off, but it's no use, his hold is way too tight and strong for her to pull away.

"Mmhhh" he humms against her, her taste inebriates him completely.

"Shit.." she groans, her body betraying her, getting closer and closer, "shit."

Hearing this Coriolanus only doubles his efforts, he blindly grabs one of her hands and moves it to rest on his cheek.

"Mmhhh yes." He humms again, licking harder on her clit.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She tries to hold back, but it's like she has no control over her body anymore as she comes on his mouth. Her legs weakening and falling to the ground, right in front Coriolanus, face to face.

"I love you." He whispers, catching her off guard by kissing her deeply and forcefully.

She puts her hands against him, never stopping her attempts.

"Stop, stop." She mutters.

"This is just a taste of how I'm going to take care of you." He explains breathlessly, "I'm never letting you go, my love."

They stay still for a moment, Y/n too scared to move and Coriolanus is simply enjoying the moment.

He finally got his girl, but he's always being certain of it, after all it's in his family.

Snow lands on top.

#the hunger games fic #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #dark!coriolanus snow fic #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #dark fic #the hunger games x y/n #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x y/n #dark!coriolanus snow x y/n #dark!coriolanus snow imagine

352 notes · View notes

kooqitas · 5 months

Text

— beer & brother's friend ... ★

#pairing: seungcheol X reader. #synopsis: your brother goes out to buy fast food, leaving you and seungcheol alone at home. #tags: pwp, vaginal sex, fingering, kitchen sex, spit, creampie. #notes: my first story with seventeen i hope you like it guys!!! #wc: 1,3k

is almost 8pm when you listen your brother laughs so loud, so you go to the kitchen, noticing the all beers bottle that was in the table.

"oh, really guys, did you even call me?"

the first thing that you noticed was how handsome seungcheol looked.

you brother, vernon, and seungcheol was friends a few years, since you and your brother living together, sometimes seungcheol go to the apartament and drink some beers ou watches some movies with vernon.

and yes, sure, cheol always being handsome, and you know that a few months ago he started the gym, you always see his posts on instagram, but damn, his so fucking hot personally.

"so, the princess came to join the commoners" seungcheol played with you.

"i want, but no one invited me..." you pretend a sad face.

"bla bla bla" vernon said. "it even feels like i need to call you for drink"

maybe now, seeing that who is in your home, you probably would dress better, like, the small shorts and thin shirt made you so... basic.

whatever, you take a beer and sit on table with the two guys.

sitting next to cheol, you smell his perfume, damn, he's unbearably hot! it's not like you didn't already know this, but in the last few months he was pushing the limits, having the guy so close to you was making you easily horny.

you drank A LOT a little, the alcohol making you burn every time seungcheol's knee touched yours. the three of you would talk about anything, your brother being visibly the only sober one there.

"i think that i wont see you since you started dating, how's going?" seungcheol questioned, taking a beer in his lips.

"she broke up, his boyfriend cheated her... with her friend" vernon laughed, your brother really gave you all emotional support, but now his just laughs a lot.

"shut up!"

"oh, is real?" cheol questioned. "i'm so sorry for that!"

"she don't care" your brother said again. "she cheated him back... with his brother."

"WITH WHOM? oh god!"

"guys... i'm still on this table..." you said.

"and i'm not!" vernon joked. "i'm taking the fries, give me a second"

so your brother go to cooktop, leaving you and seungcheol alone.

seungcheol had a look that you couldn't identify, but it gave you goosebumps, the truth is that you always had a crush on your brother's friend, but for obvious reasons you had never tried anything, it didn't even seem like something reciprocated.

but seungcheol was so fucking hot, you definitely wanted to kiss him.

"oh... his brother?" he asked, a kinda unbeliever.

"is not a big deal, ok? his fucked with my friend, i just... go deeper... isn't my fault, his brother fucked me too, like, i'm not haved sex alone..."

"yeah, sure, i understand..." his said.

"oh, really?"

he approached, whispering in you ear.

"sure, like, if i was his brother, i wanted to fuck with you too... actually, wouldn't even wait for him to cheat you for that."

cheol laughs, squeezing your thigh in a less than affectionate way, his eyes are dark.

fuck, he was hitting on you?

"guys, the fries burned..." vernon laughed.

"oh, i'm really hungry now..." you said, looking to cheol.

yes, maybe the food that you want its other...

"i can go to the mc if you want!" cheol sayed to you and vernon.

"oh, definitely NO, you are drunk. i'll go, just let me change de clothes."

your brother went to the room, and seungcheol's dark gaze stayed on you, along with the unchaste caress on your thigh, which rose even further towards the hem of the tiny shorts you were wearing.

vernon came back, saying he would return in 20 minutes and asking you not to break anything in the house.

when your brother left, the amount of dirty thoughts that passed through your mind scared you, you knew you found seungcheol attractive, but wanting to take off your clothes and lie on the table asking him to fuck you wasn't the best thing to think about right now.

you got up, going to get another beer from the fridge, but you were scared by the large body that pressed you against it.

"c-cheol, wh-?"

"tell me that your pretty whore face was a request to me, please!"

"my-my?"

"i’ve been wanting to fuck you for so long... and when i found the courage to admit it, you started dating." he laughed with a laugh that bordered on despair.

what do you mean he wanted to fuck you?

“vernon could come home in any min-”

"i promise to be quick, i know you're wet, hm?" he said kissing your neck, pressing his hips into your waist, making you feel his cock. "i've been like this since i saw you enter that damn kitchen, i planned to wait for your brother to sleep so i could come to your room but..." he kissed your jaw, and you were already overcome by lust. "let me have you now!"

you didn't respond, not verbally, you just took his hand down your shorts, showing the damage your own thoughts had done to you.

he was agile in placing two fingers inside your wet hole, making you moan at the sensation.

"are you already open for me, kitty? if you're a good girl now, when your brother sleeps, i promise to come into your room and make you cum in my mouth... but now let me fuck you with my dick, hm? "

"f-"

you don’t even know how he was so fast, but in the next second you felt his cock inside you, spreading you open as he stuck his tongue in your mouth.

his tongue tasted like beer, and you moaned when it came into contact with yours at the same time as every inch of him entered you further.

"tight pussy, but accepting me so well..." he said before thrusting once, the shock of his balls hitting you.

“fuck” you moaned, closing your eyes, planting your nails on his arm. the mix of lust and burning.

"no, princess, look that... you're taking me so well..." he forces you to look down, increasing the speed of his thrust as he lifts your two legs, intertwining them with his thighs.

you are literally open to seungcheol, he pushes you against the fridge while he fucks you, seeming to take away all the time he wanted you, you feel his vision get blurred with so much information.

"i've wanted to fuck you for so long, you finally broke with your pathetic boyfriend."

he pushes you further against the fridge, lowering the strap of your shirt and exposing one of your nipples, seungcheol spits on one of them before starting to stimulate it with his fingers, using the spit to lub.

"you're always going to give me that cunt now, right? so delicious..."

he kisses you, and then begins to stimulate your clit, sloppy circles taking you to heaven and hell at the same time.

"i'll-"

"please smear my dick all over with your cream, love!"

the touch on your clit becoming firmer as he stuck his tongue back into your mouth, and you came..

the laugh he gave when he felt your cum was one of the most exciting things you had ever heard in your life.

"hold on a little, princess." he said kissing his neck and he didn't stop thrusting into you.

and then he came. filling you completely with his cum.

seungcheol continues thrusting for a few seconds, his cum making his dick slide even better.

"we n-need to stop, my brother..."

"oh right." he releases you. "can we talk about this later?" he questions when he sees you heading towards the bathroom, you nod.

and it takes less than two minutes for vernon to get into the house.

shit, you guys forgot to clean the floor.

⸝⸝⸝

🍰 support me on ko-fi

474 notes · View notes

rayraelleaizawa · 6 months

Note

There better be a part 2 of "they say something hurtful in an argument" where they realized they fucked up. I swear on God's name I will not stop crying if you don't.

P.s: very good writing keep it up! ❤️

Side Note: I didnt think that there would be so many requests on part 2, so thank you all for the requests and the support! It helps staying motivated to keep writing :) I hope you'll like this!

Making up after an argument

Part 1: They say something hurtful in an argument

Tags: hurt/comfort, slight angst, making up

Characters: Shanks, Benn Beckman, Dracule Mihawk

Shanks

He feels bad about what he said right after he saw that flash of hurt on your face, the sadness in your eyes and your quiet apology. Shanks immediately wanted to go after you when you left the room, but he was so wrung up in his blanket that he first had to untangle himself before he could go after you. He didnt care how he looked like, his shirt was all the way open, his pants were pulled up above his knee on one leg and on the other it hung down normally and his hair was a mess too. His shoes were completly forgotten somewhere in the room.

When he opened the door from his cabin with a rush and walked outside into the hallway, you were long gone. He instantly went looking for you, starting on deck and working all the way down.

His crewmembers, especially his closest friends, gave him weird looks and concerned stares, but he ignored all of their questions and just ran around looking for you. When he finally finds you, crying on the floor in a dark storage room, he felt a pang go through his heart.

He slowly came closer to you, not wanting to startle you, and started talking quietly.

"Hey, sweet cheeks" he said, sitting down next to you. "Is it alright if i touch you?" he said as he carefully laid his hand on your ellbow.

Seeing you in this state made him want to just wrap his arms around you, pull you close and kiss you all over and apologize to you a thousand times, but he held himself back. This wasnt what you needed right now.

When you didnt react to his touch, he laid his other hand on your shoulder. Shanks tried to catch your eyes, but your face was burried in your legs and your hands were shielding your head from him.

"Darling please look at me" he pleaded, and slowly you raised your head. He laid his other hand on your cheek and his warmth immediately comforted you, but you didnt want to give into his warmth. When Shanks saw your tear struck face and this unbearable sadness in your eyes, he mentally cursed himself for saying those reckless words.

"I'm sorry for what I said. I had no right to let my hangover frustration out on you. Please, forgive me. I love you, my sweet little dove" he tried to apologize.

"Am I really the reason?" you quietly asked, hiccuping from all the crying.

"What?" Shanks looked at you confused.

"Am I the reason why you keep drinking so much? Am I that insufferable?" you cried out, your body shaking at the thought.

"No, no! That wasnt what I meant, please, listen to me! You are the best thing that ever happened to me, and I cant lose you. What I said was mean and a lie. Please believe me when I say I never wanted to hurt you. Please believe me that I didnt mean those words."

Shanks was on the verge of crying himself. The thought that he made his partner feel so bad made him hate himself, swearing to never get this drunk again that he would hurt his lover. He was scared you'd leave him. He wanted to make you feel better, but that was a difficult task when he himself was the reason why you were crying and shaking on the floor. He carefully put his arms around you and placed you on his lap and pressed a small kiss to your forehead.

"It's okay, cry how much you want. Be angry at me, hit me, let all your feelings out on me, I deserve it. But please" he swallowed hard "please dont be sad. Please dont leave me. Not because of my stupid mouth."

You looked up at him when he said that. You noticed his pained face and the fear in his eyes. A fear that he messed up for good. You still felt hurt, but you knew Shanks would never toy with your feelings like that. He was serious about this apology.

You pressed your head in his chest and your tears started to dry out. After a time of silence and him gently stroking your back, you murmered a "I love you, you drunk idiot" into his chest. Shanks felt a stone fall from his heart as he chuckled a bit, leaned down and kissed you on the head. "I love you too, so much pumpkin. I'll never hurt you again. I'll stop drinking so much. Pirate promise"

Benn Beckman

Beckman sighed for the seemingly hundreth time. He still stood on deck, leaning against the railing as he thought about what he had said. He didnt meant to hurt you, but he knew giving you a bit space for now was the right thing. When you calmed down he planned on talking to you, but right now he also needed to sort his own thoughts.

He regretted his words instantly after they left his mouth but the damage was done. He sighed again. Usually he would have smoked at least half a package of cigarettes by now, but he just couldnt bring himself to touch one. Those stupid things were the reason why he made his partner sad. No, bullshit. He couldnt blame anyone else than himself for this. He fucked up.

With one last sigh he left his place at the railing and went underdeck to find you. He had a guess where you were and what you'd be doing, so he went straight to your cabin. He calmed himself with a deep breath in and breath out before he knocked on your door and then slowly opened it.

He wasnt suprised at what he saw. You were at your desk, working away on whatever was laying on your table. Benn carefully stepped into your room and closed the door. You didnt give him any sign that you acknowledged his presence. He walked over to you and waited if you'd say something.

Benn wasnt sure how to approach, so he looked at the papers on your desk. When he saw how shaky your handwriting was and how the ink mixed with waterdrops at some places he sighed again, feeling helpess as he made his own partner cry.

"Hey, I'm sorry about what I said. It wasnt right of me. I let out my stress on you eventho you were only worried about me. I'm deeply sorry."

Benn apologized, but you didnt respond nor did you look at him. He got restless, the uneasy feeling in him became stronger with every second you didnt say anything. You were just writing away on your papers.

"Buttercup, please. I am really sorry. I didnt want to hurt your feelings. You know I love you deeply."

There was a begging undertone in Benns voice by now.

"You dont smell like smoke" was the only answere he got, and hearing your voice immediately eased his anxious feelings a bit.

"I just...couldnt bring myself to touch them" he admitted.

You turned to look at him.

"Maybe i should be upset because of you more often then?"

He breathed out as he sensed that you werent that upset at him anymore. There was a joking undertone in your words, but it was clear that you still were hurt. He laid his hand on yours and leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours.

"Please no. I cant handle this. I cant handle seeing you upset. I'm sorry, princess, i'll really try my best to smoke less. Please, I want to make things right again, I-"

He stopped when you laid your hand on his cheek, softly caressing it.

"I know that you're sincer when you start rambling, Benn Beckman."

Dracule Mihawk

Mihawk knew he fucked up big time when he wanted to go look for you but couldnt find you. He noticed your belongings were gone, and then saw footprints leaving away from the castle. Your footprints.

It was starting to become night so he immediately ran after you, following your steps through the woods. He prayed the whole time that you were safe, that nothing happened to you, that you didnt get injured because of his inability to deal with his emotions the right way.

It started raining and it got darker and darker. He hoped he'll find you in time. The nights are cold and the animals in the woods can be even more dangerous at night. Mihawk ran even faster as raindrops hit him more frequently, and soon it was pouring down. His clothes were complety soaked, but he couldnt care less. All he could think of was to find you and bring you back to safety.

While Mihawk dashed throught the woods with experience, you on the other hand stumbled around without orientation. Now that the darkness started to rise, you couldnt see anything anymore. The trees were so close to each other that you couldnt orientate yourself on the stars, and barely any moonlight came through either.

You couldnt count anymore how often you tripped or fell down a slope. Your arms, legs and face were covered in small scratches as you continued to push trough. You werent even entirely sure where you were going, but all you knew was that you wanted to put as much distance in between you and Hawkeye as possible.

Tears still welled up at the thought of him. Those soft moments between you two all seemed like a lie. You shook your head to get rid of those thoughts and carried on. You kept on walking, but a root stood out of the ground and made you trip again. You fell and slithered down another small slope and just as you cursed to yourself you heard a noise.

You stayed quietly on the ground as you listened, not sure if you misheared. No, there were definetely steps. But they were too heavy to be from a human. And Mihawk wouldnt come either. So what was that?

Then you heard a sniffing sound and a roar. And that's when you also got your answer. It was a bear. You tried to stay as calm as possible, but soon you realized why the bear roared so much. You fell in between the bear and it's cup. Which was the worst thing you could do - get in between a mother bear and her child.

You slowly started to crawl backwards, but the mother bear roared again and you heard her coming closer. You tried to hold your breath as you saw her shadowy figure infront of you, and the moment the bear roared almost into your face, you tried to stand up and run away, but of course that didnt work with a bear in front of you. You fell on your butt and tried to ready yourself for the heavy impact with the bears paw which she had raised, when a tall figure was infront of you suddenly, holding a big sword you'd recognise everyhwere. Mihawk. He wielded his sword and cut the ground, and the bear mother and her cup both ran away.

When he turned to face you, you couldnt decipher what his facial expression meant. You sat there, on the ground, cuts all over you and wet from the rain as he suddenly quickly walked up to you. You wanted to stand up, to talk with him, but before you could even say his name he was on the ground with you, kissing you feverishly.

You were confused about what was going on suddenly, but Mihawk pressed you against him in a way you couldnt escape. Not that you really wanted to, cause you felt so many emotions in this one kiss. Fear, anger, sadness, relieve... it seemed like all of those pent up emotions he couldnt let out came through in this kiss.

After what seemed like eternity did he break the kiss, panting as he looked at you.

"I'm so glad you're okay. I'm so glad you're alive. I- I love you."

Was all he said and you looked at him in shock. It was a rare treat to hear those words from him, and you didnt expect to ever hear them again. But here he was, saving you in the middle of the night, telling you his feelings.

"I-I know that you're always worried when I leave. I just didnt know how to break it to you when i had to leave for so long. I not only see the disappointment and worry in your face, I also see fear and sadness whenever i leave. I just...I didnt know how I should tell you that I had to leave for months, fighting some idiots without seeing you all sad about the fact that I might not come back? That's why i left without saying anything. I know i hurt you, my love. I know I said something cruel back in the castle. But this castle is not my home when you arent in it. I'm sorry for hurting you. I didnt know how to express myself. Please, forgive me. I'll work on it."

You only stared in shock as Mihawk talked about his feelings so much. But then a small smile broke out on your lips.

"You're an idiot. But you're my idiot."

He didnt respond, he only blushed which you didnt see in the dark nights, but then he picked you up and started carrying you back to your home.

#akagami no shanks #benn beckman #red hair shanks #shanks #shanks x reader #beckman #benn beckman x reader #dracule mihawk #mihawk #mihawk x reader #one piece #one piece shanks #beckman x reader #hawkeye

808 notes · View notes

thisapplepielife · 3 months

Text

Written for @steddie-week.

Reach Out and Touch Someone

Steve dials the number messily scrawled on the scrap of paper. He’s nervous. He’s always nervous when he has to stick his neck out and make a move on a girl these days.

Yeah, he did the first bit of legwork and got her number out at the bar last night. But he's fumbled the ball and failed enough times, Robin's loving, but accurate, "you suck" burned in his brain, that he's always leery to try again. He should be used to it by now, but it’s still uncomfortable and awkward, every goddamn time. If his friends weren't all fretting about his emotional well-being from being so terminally alone, he wouldn’t put forth half the effort anymore.

He has Robin. He has his cat. He's happy.

It rings three times before he hears it connect, “Hello?”

It’s a man’s voice, and he hesitates for just a moment, “I’m looking for, uh, Lyla?”

“Sorry, man. Wrong number.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misdialed,” Steve says, a different kind of embarrassment. But this is one he can handle easier, for sure. So he pushed the wrong button somewhere along the way. His eyesight isn't the best thing he's got going for him.

“No worries, man,” the other guy laughs, seemingly carefree about being bothered.

They each disconnect and then Steve reads, and re-reads, the number before dialing again. More carefully this time.

It rings only once before it’s connected.

“Still me, dude,” the familiar voice relays, still light and friendly.

“Wow. I’m so sorry. Clearly, I was given a fake number. That's embarrassing,” Steve laughs, because this is more embarrassing than misdialing. He's uncomfortable and mortified to admit that this girl just didn't want him to call her. Even if he's only admitting it to a stranger.

She should have just told him no. He hates that she didn't, for her sake, too.

“Shitty move,” the other guy answers.

“Yeah, well. I'm sorry I bothered you. Again. I promise to cross-check any future numbers against yours before dialing, just in case.”

The guy laughs, "Well, now. Don't go to any trouble for my sake. Honestly,” and he doesn't sound put-out at all, “don’t worry about it. She clearly didn’t have the balls to just, be, like, honest. That sucks.”

Steve laughs, maybe if she'd had balls this wouldn't have happened at all. Most men feel more comfortable just saying no, he thinks, which is sad but true. He swings both ways, and maybe he should take this as a sign to lean the other way for a while. See if that works out any better for him.

It probably won't, but he could try.

“There goes my big weekend plans,” Steve teases, uncertain why he does it, even as the words tumble out of his mouth. He needs to hang up the phone and let this guy get back to his own life.

“Dude. That's a problem I can solve. I’m gigging tonight. You have to come. Let me entertain you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Whatever. I want to. Just show up. It’ll be a great story, will it not?”

It would be a great story. One he could even tell Robin to convince her he’s living a little, “I don’t even know your name. What if you’re a serial killer or something?”

“Yep, that’s me. Vicious killer,” the guy laughs, “I’m Eddie, man. And I’m a fucking ball to be around. You’ll want to take me up on this awesome offer. We’ll all be down at Hellfire Club around eight. Show up. If you think we’re murderous, you don’t have to follow us to any secondary, secluded locations.”

Hellfire Club is literally two blocks from Steve’s apartment. He's been past it countless times, but never inside. It's always dark. Like it's not even open, making him unsure about what kind of bar it is, it's so nondescript from the outside. Not to mention the name is a little intimidating. He'd half-convinced himself it's a BDSM club.

But, now that he's been invited, he could just walk down and see what’s the what, “How will I know which guy you are?”

Eddie laughs, “You’ll know. Trust me.”

Steve has a hard time trusting anyone new these days, but Eddie seems friendly enough.

Steve realizes he must have been quiet for too long, because Eddie starts talking again.

“I’ll have on a badass battle vest. Look for that. You'll see me. It's impossible not to. I promise.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, even if he’s not sure what a battle vest even is.

“Now, are you going to tell me your name, or will that just be a surprise?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, “Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Well, I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Steve stands in front of his closet for far too long, trying to find something to wear that doesn’t look too nerdy. He assumes Eddie's cool. He sounded cool, and Steve may have been cool in high school, but these days he just keeps his head down and goes through life, content to be fairly unnoticed. He finally settles on a black t-shirt. Basic, classic. Timeless.

Boring.

But that's a risk he's willing to take.

He walks down the street slowly and arrives around eight-thirty. The windows are still all blacked out, tinted to the point he can't see anything inside. There's just the neon sign with the Hellfire Club over the door.

When he pulls open the door, he's in a hallway that's painted all black, with a bouncer at the end, stationed at a door. Steve kind of wants to turn around, flee, but he doesn't. He's already here. He might as well at least see. Robin will kill him if he chickens out.

He gives his ID to the bouncer, and is directed down a staircase. He really hopes this isn't a sex club.

It's not.

And as soon as he crosses the threshold into the bar, yes, he knows Eddie instantly. He’s gotta be the one on the bar, pouring shots directly into various mouths. Steve knows he could turn around right now and this adventure could end. But watching Eddie laughing and prancing up and down the bar with flourish, clearly having fun, makes Steve want to go up and meet this guy.

Steve takes an open seat at the end of the bar, kind of out of the way, and just watches Eddie work the crowd.

The bar is blaring It's Raining Men and Eddie is playing up the song, big time. He's not a stripper, at least Steve doesn't think he is, but he's working the crowd for tips, absolutely. He keeps handing them down to a curly-headed guy, who keeps stuffing them into an overflowing jar.

Steve's pretty sure this is a gay club, or at least queer friendly. Maybe he has found a place for himself, something that's been right here under his nose, all this time.

When Eddie finally jumps down off the bar, Steve watches him work the rest of the room.

The other guy comes over and takes Steve's order, and he doesn't quite have the same flourish, but he's efficient and confident with a bottle and jigger.

"Name for the tab?" he asks, shaking the drink Steve had picked from the list.

"Steve," Steve says, and the guy looks up and meets his eyes.

Surely not. This doesn't feel like this is Eddie. He is wearing a vest, a red plaid one, but the other guy also has a denim vest on, full of patches.

"Eddie?" Steve questions, needing to make sure.

"Gareth," the guy says, "that's Eddie," he clarifies, pointing at the one Steve had correctly clocked as Eddie to begin with. "You're his wrong number guy, right?"

Steve nods. He supposes that's what he is, "Yeah. That's me. Loser in love."

Gareth laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"That's our specialty here, you'll feel right at home," Gareth teases.

"Glad to hear it."

"I'll tell him you're here," Gareth assures, "he wasn't sure you'd come."

"That makes two of us," Steve admits, and Gareth smiles as he finishes shaking Steve's drink, putting it down in front of him.

"On the house. First-timers to Hellfire drink free," Gareth says, and then he's walking away.

Steve's eyes follow Gareth across the bar, watching as he taps Eddie on the shoulder, leaning close to his ear, pointing right at Steve.

Eddie looks, meets his eyes, and Steve raises his hand, giving him a small, little wiggle of his fingers.

A huge smile spreads across Eddie's face as he bounds in Steve's direction.

Eddie's quickly right in his personal space, squeezing both of Steve's shoulders, greeting him with a smile, "Welcome to Hellfire."

Steve smiles, liking the feeling of Eddie's hands bleeding through his t-shirt, warming him.

Eddie lets go, and Steve misses the feeling already, but Eddie stays. Sliding onto the stool next to Steve, "I'm glad you came."

And Steve's completely honest as he answers, "Me too."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you're too young to remember it, reach out and touch someone was the slogan/jingle for Bell System telephone company back in the day. So, that's where the title comes from, as a play on the wrong number phone call trope.

#steddieweek2024 #day seven #free space #wrong number trope #meet cute #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #steddieweek #steddie #thisapplepielife: steddieweek #thisapplepielife: short fic

400 notes · View notes

teyamsilly · 10 months

Text

dark red

pairing: neteyam x metkayina! reader

tags & warning: arguments, short tempered reader, soft spoken neteyam, neteyam has emotional intelligence, a bit angst

summary: neteyam missed your dates four times in a row because of his ikinimiya training— that he insisted on having because your father wants yourself a mate who's done ikinimiya the metkayina way. you brushed it off, but when you saw him smiling at another girl at the time your date is supposed to happen, you snapped.

index paskalin - honey

word count 1.2k words

a/n posting this at midnight and half asleep because i suddeny had an idea 💪🏻

Sighing, you gently took off the shells Tsireya attached to your hair for decoration. The top you wore was especially meant for special occasions. You wanted to appear nice for Neteyam since you spent shorter and shorter periods with him.

This was the fourth date that he couldn't come to, and he sent Lo'ak to tell you. Neteyam told you the first time that he was preoccupied with last-minute training. He told you the same thing the second time. However, on the third occasion, Kiri informed you that he had been engrossed in training yet again. And it was his brother this time.

Something bad is 'bout to happen to me

I don't know it, but I feel it coming

Neteyam would be so worn out thereafter that he would immediately fall asleep. You sympathise with what he's going through because you've been there yourself. Complaining made you feel insensitive and unreasonable, also he was doing this for you. It never felt right to voice your concerns about the amount of time you're spending together lately.

But you miss him so much. The warm touch of his skin against yours, his lips pressing against yours, and his warm smile that never fails to make you fall for him all over again.

You huffed, deciding to meet him halfway when he goes home and give him the longest hug, because it finally hit you: you missed him too much.

You left your marui, feeling the net dipping slightly at each step you took. However, you stopped your movement when your ears twitched at a particular sound.

Neteyam's voice.

You peered ahead, brows pinched together, as his figure approached. He wasn't alone, though. He was with a girl you knew. Ila'yu was one of the best hunters in the clan. She's strong and bold. The two of you trained together and completed ikinimiya at the same age, there was no competition whatsoever.

Yet you cant help but feel possessive.

Ila'yu said something, making gestures as she did so, and Neteyam broke out a laugh. They didn't notice your presence until they were five feet away from you.

Might be so sad, might leave my nose running

I just hope she don't wanna leave me

Neteyam's eyes brightened up at the sight of you, oblivious to your harsh demeanour. Ila'yu noted your expression and remained firm on her spot as he approached you happily.

"I will see you tomorrow, Neteyam," says Ila'yu. She sent a nod towards your way, but you didn't return it.

He nodded, and grinned, "Thank you for today."

Once she was gone, Neteyam looked back at you with every intent to put all of his attention on you. He cupped your face with his rough hands, thumbs carressing your cheeks softly. "I haven't seen you in a while, paskalin." The boy leaned in for a kiss, but you pulled away and left him there standing, dumbfounded.

Neteyam was stumped. He was processing what had just occurred and began to recount all of the things he had done to you that would have hurt you. His sole thought was that he had missed another date, so he rushed inside your marui.

You were fuming, ears pinned against your head. You looked so much like your mother, it intimidated him a bit.

"What was that?" you seethed.

"What was what, paskalin?" he asked softly, stepping closer to you but you walked farther away from him.

"What were you doing with her?"

Neteyam attempted to hold your hand, but you just slapped his hand away. "She assisted me with training. Your father couldn't observe the people in training, so he assigned her to teach us. Nothing happened," he explained.

You scoffed, "And you just happen to walk home together?"

"She accompanied me-"

"Right."

"Paskalin," he exhaled gently.

"We haven't spent time together anymore, and I was fine with it because you had training. Each time, I asked for Kiri and Tsireya's opinions on what to wear because you work so hard. And then I see you with her? Are you fucking kidding me?" you raised your voice. "You two look so happy together, must be nice to spend some time together! Oh, why don't we invite her to our mat? She can sleep with-"

Neteyam pursed his lips, exhaustion setting in. He knew that he had neglected you for a while within reason, but it still felt wrong. Every time he tried to make amends with you, something would get in the way. With your ferocious outburst, he wondered how long you'd kept to yourself.

Don't you give me up, please don't give up

Honey, I belong with you, and only you, baby

"Paskalin," he cut you off with the same gentle tone. "I don't want to argue with you. You're angry, I understand. But I don't want us to speak to each other like this. Why don't we take the moment to calm ourselves and then we talk about it?"

You blinked when he responded softly. He didn't appear upset or enraged, but simply patient. Neteyam interpreted your silence as agreement and gently grasped your hand in his. You couldn't deny the butterflies bursting in your stomach.

Neteyam sat down with crossed legs, and you followd his actions hesitantly. His thumb brushed the top of your hand delicately. You forced yourself to look away and focused your glare on the ocean, your lips slightly pouting.

You were so stubborn, and that's what Neteyam found about you so endearing. You're driven and hold yourself with confidence.

After a while, Neteyam noticed that you looked more relaxed than you were earlier. "Are you ready to talk?" he asked carefully.

You sighed, "I just… I miss you 'teyam. It feels like everyone sees you more than I do lately, and I don't like that. I know I sound selfish and ungrateful, but that's how I feel. Then when I saw her, I just snapped."

"Paskalin, I promise you that she's only been nothing, but a good friend to me. She gives me tips about my ikinimiya because she knows how much I want to be with you. If I knew it would bother you this much, I would have put my distance a bit. I'm so sorry for missing our dates, and that you had to feel this way. It was never my intention."

Only you, my girl, only you, babe

Tears welled up in your eyes. Now, you feel stupid.

"Please don't apologise, yawne. I'm sorry for yelling. I'm not angry or jealous that you were with her, I just felt really sad." You leaned closer, and pecked his cheek. "I feel foolish now for shouting."

Neteyam shook his head and brought your face closer to his, pressing his lips against yours. You sat on his lap and locked your legs together at his back, arms snaking around his neck. He deepened the kiss, before he pulled away.

You whined at the loss of contact.

"Don't feel foolish, my love. I'm glad that you told me this even if it wasn't in the way I expected it to be." He stared deeply into your blue eyes. "Is the problem resolved now?"

"Definitely."

You pulled him for another kiss, and Neteyam couldn't help but chuckle against your lips for how needy you are. But he was just the same, maybe even worse.

He wouldn't want it any other way.

support banner by @cafekitsune <3

#avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #avatar twow #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam fluff #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam imagine #fluff #neteyam x metkayina!reader

736 notes · View notes

bitchlessdino · 9 months

Note

Sexy DK request time: He's tied to the bed and you do a strip show for him, he can't touch you, can only see your sexy af self, you can take this anywhere you like- Sam @dkakapizzaboy

Pairing: husband of mistress seokmin x fem married!reader Genre: angst, smut, slight fluff Word count:7.7k tags: insecure seokmin, mutual infidelity, unprotective sex, sub!seokmin, dom!reader, strip teases, male bondage, mention of fem oral, blow jobs, "ma'am" svt member!husband, let me know if I’m missing any! Summary: With the mutual understanding being cheated on, Seokmin finds solace in you, the beautiful stranger with ties to man that ruined his marriaged, Fortunately, light peeks out of the most inconvenient of circumstance. author note: still on hiatus but finally got this ok. sorry for teh wait sam my arch nemesis, thank you my darling wife @wongyuseokie for beta reading 💗

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @cottoncheol @embrace-themagic @seokgyuu

Unknown number: hi. you may not know me but my wife knows your husband and I think they’re having an affair.

You've stared at the message for hours on end and just about lost your mind with every letter of every word. You could practically recite it without a beat, the sound of glass shattering in the distance every time you’re met at the end.

You didn’t believe it at first—part of the reason being you don’t want to—but it would logically explain his recent changes. The late nights. The woman’s perfume. The infrequent time at home.

You feel numb.

Buried in a weighted blanket of deceit and betrayal, you wallow in the depths of your sheets until the words seep into the deepest dark abyss of your chest, squeezing your heart until it feels like it pops. A few more notifications followed the initial, going off at a nervous pace. The sender's agitation is abundantly clear.

You think to ignore it. You think to forget whatever you read and go about your married life as normal, but it gnaws at you. A violating parasite crawls around the wrinkles of your brain, biting, chewing, and consuming your perturbed consciousness. It leaks out of you in tears, sorrow, and a pervasive bodily ache.

Eventually, your hand finds your phone thrown to the ground and claims it in your vice grip before reading the incoming messages.

Unknown number: I read her messages

Unknown number: it’s been months it looks like

Unknown number: me and her have been married for less than a year

Unknown number: I won’t be too affected by this

Unknown number: I think

Unknown number: but are you ok?

No. No, you weren’t.

Unknown number: if it’s ok, I’d like you to meet with me.

Unknown number: see the proof in person.

You know you'd be stupid to meet with a stranger you connected with through the phone. He could be a liar, murderer, stalker—you have no idea. However, if he's telling the honest truth, he'd be the only person right now who would understand your excruciating pain more than anyone else. He'd serve as proof that the life-sucking sensation coursing through your body is a sad reality, and facing that terrifies you.

However, reality manifests as a beautiful man. A beautiful man with a heart-shattering expression that makes you want to pick him up in the palms of your hands to tend to his invisible wounds.

You're perplexed. You weren’t sure if there was love that existed for you, but for him, love should’ve been guaranteed. He looks as if he deserves every star dedicated to him for every second he breathes. Every tear he shed. Every word he spoke. In another world, he’s someone’s muse, not someone’s victim of infidelity. Surely. Surely this was all some misunderstanding.

“Did you want that decaf?”

Your eyes flutter in his direction, registering the spoken words on his tongue. Sputter on your lips, you work the softness of your jaw in a gentle nod and swallow the words hitch down your throat. He splays a warm, but small smile, and gets up to head in the direction of the counter. His long, broad stature leans against the edge. His chest bellowing out of his diaphragm and out his lips, he softly mutters the drink orders to the cafe attendant.

Your eyes bat gently, observing him in slow motion, a coiling sensation in your gut. You exhale out of your nose in retreat, averting your gaze to your lap, jolting yourself out of the sudden fixation. You know you shouldn’t have been doing that. You have better self-control than that. Now was not the time for that.

His footsteps retreat toward you, and he settles your drink by your side of the table. Your eyes flit up at him, gaze descending as he modestly takes a seat across from you. His wide-toothed grin is polite but noticeably strained. "Thank you for meeting with me." His hands fiddle in his lap, visibly as disoriented as you are.

“I’m glad you texted me,” You respond cordially, “Those pictures were a hard pill to swallow…but I’m glad I saw them.”

He dryly chuckles, a solemn look of anguish etched on his face. "Yeah, I felt the same way."

Accepting the drink, you bring it against your lips. Despite being decaf, it proves as bitter as regular—an unexpected comfort, considering the usual presence of excess cream and sugar have felt overwhelming lately. The bitterness numbs your tongue, and you sense it traveling in a lump down your throat as you swallow.

"Sorry." His apology shakes you into clarity, his eyes quivering as they settle on you. "I'd seen photos of you—finding your husband, of course, because I didn't—um, okay. It's just strange to see you in front of me. Makes everything more..."

“Real,” You say, completing his sentence. “Yeah.”

His adam’s apple shifts in a nervous gulp. “How long were you together?”

“Five years. If you counted the last four,” you answer with a lingering chuckle. “I had an idea that’s what he was doing, but ideas are harmless until you’re true.”

“That’s—wow—impressive.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “Don’t. Considering the circumstances, it’s nothing to be proud about. If I had known earlier I would’ve shoved those papers in his face a long time ago.”

“But you’re so…strong. How do you get like that? After five years?”

You shrug, shrinking under his charged gaze, glistening in a sheen of genuine admiration. “Practice. If you stayed a little longer, you’d learn it too.”

“I don’t think I could’ve survived that.”

“Well, you contacted the spouse of the man sleeping with your wife. That’s pretty fucking strong.”

He’s bashful again, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoids your eyes. All he can do is nod in response, not used to attention so warm and encouraging. So unlike Ami.

He discovers that you are far less deserving of betrayal than he had imagined. Your eloquent and poised conversations impress him, and the admirable lightness in your solemn tone adds to your appeal. From the moment he became aware of your existence, he felt compelled to meet you. While he initially rationalized it as a civic duty, there's an underlying motive that continues to fester in selfish desire, even when the topic of divorce is raised.

“Can we do this again?” he suggests timidly, hopeful you’ll agree. "Until the papers are final, at least. It’s kind of freeing talking about this with someone in the same shoes.”

Your lips softly curl up at the ends. “I’d like that.”

There's a substantial list of tasks to tackle before everything is finalized. You imagine how grueling it’d be to navigate through this by yourself and appreciate you weren’t alone on this. Recognizing that he's undergoing the same steps in grieving his failed union, it feels almost instinctive to join forces. Partners in divorce, each navigating the end of each of their own unhappy marriages.

“Sorry, I just had to get something.”

You had come remarkably close, and the opportunity to accompany him home practically fell into your lap. Stepping into his space for the first time, you were immediately captivated by the photos adorning the walls, each one capturing her in a stunning, large white gown. In the enlarged picture on the wall, she radiates happiness, her joy undoubtedly amplified by standing next to Seokmin, who stands tall and sharp, his pride and happiness evident. As your eyes take in the scene, you find yourself amazed by the sheer elegance and warmth emanating from the photograph. A couple epitomizing love. So why—

“Found it,” he says, his fingers clutching the file between them. His gaze lands on your location, and as he registers the reason for your silence, he adds with a chuckle, “Oh, yeah. Ha-ha. That was really expensive.”

He approaches you with deliberate steps, both of you studying the wedding portrait together. "A thousand pictures, three hours editing, five hours of sifting through them, and a couple of grand later, this turned out to be the best one," he remarks. There's a hint of wry humor in his voice as he adds, "She jokes that it was the best thing to come out of this marriage. Now, I'm starting to wonder if it was a joke at all."

“Well, it’s so fucking amazing work. You look incredible.”

He acknowledges your sincerity. Naturally. It's a meticulously composed photo with thousand-dollar lighting, and makeup seamlessly blended into both of their skin. It was crafted to be admired, despite the evident imperfections concealed beneath the surface. Nonetheless, Seokmin's cheeks color at your commentary, a warmth palpable to the touch. "Thank you. Um, shall we?"

As you invest more time with him, the lingering question persists. Seokmin embodies perfection in every conceivable aspect, surpassing the qualities your husband ever possessed. The puzzle remains: Why? Why would his wife betray someone so genuinely kind and undeserving of such disloyalty? The enigma of her actions deepens with each passing moment spent in Seokmin's company.

Had you been in her shoes, you would grant him whatever he desires. The lengths you'd take to show your deep appreciation for him would extend endlessly, reaching far and lasting indefinitely. With complete faith, there wasn’t one damn rotten bone in his body, and he’s proven time and time he’s a sweetheart in and out. And although you were the one you were lucky enough to take his wife’s place, the least you could do is show him the courtesy of a friend. A friend who is cultivating feelings that start to transcend the simplicity of amicability.

“You know I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a home-cooked meal like this.”

“You’re welcome. I don’t feed my award-winning dish to just anyone.”

“It’s delicious. Like every bite filled with a mother’s hug. The best thing I ever put in my mouth.”

The way he says that tightens you in knots as you scrape off the remaining bit of your meal into the trash, letting the hot water from your faucet run down your plate. “A-an honor.”

You hear the scratch of his chair dragging on the floor as his padded feet approach you. “Let me help you with that.”

“You don’t need to—“

“You made dinner, let me in your humble abode, the least I can do as a guest.”

As your eyes follow the sequence of events, his long limbs gracefully extend over, prompting you to delicately set aside the dish with a self-assured smile. "You've done plenty. Let the host handle things."

He chuckles in disbelief. “Come on.”

“Stop it.” You giggle, splashing water at him.

He scoffs, splashing back. “You stop. Come on.”

“Seokmin!”

In a playful exchange, you engage in a subtle power struggle while fighting over the task. As he attempts to take control, you defy his dominance, completing the task before he can assert authority. Tension mounts as you press him against the counter, feeling the taut surface of his abdomen beneath your palm. A breathless moment ensues, and you slowly withdraw, leaving the air thick with anticipation.

You don’t notice the expression on Seokmin’s face when you unintentionally feel him up. The patter in his chest when it stroked down as you let go. The twitch in his pants when he notices your eyes are still glued to his body. He wishes he’d stop you from resisting, let you have him where you wanted. Move your body against him.

But you're married, just like him. Albeit unhappily, but he must've confused trauma bonding for affection, lust, and longing. He wasn't actually falling for you; he's just lonely. Needy. Horny.

Seokmin just needs a good wank. A proper one with mood music and the lotion that smells like lavender or roses. All the romantic shit because that’s the type of guy he was. A romantic.

The challenge is doing it without your face popping in his head.

For the longest time, he’d only thought of his wife. Although met through an arrangement via each other's parents, he thought he could love her, live with kids of their own, and live a happy life. For a moment he thought it was possible.

And then it came sex. Again and again, it would fail. And the smaller, the smaller he’d become. Like a shitty moldy piece of gum on the back of her shoe. Fuck it if she made him feel smaller than he should’ve. He knows he doesn't deserve it, and maybe it’s why your presence is so comforting.

A breath of fresh air. A change of pace.

The attempt at forgetting your face with his hand around his cock becomes a failed one, spreading his failure all over his abdomen as he slumps in his chair. his nipples stand erect in the cool draft.

He feels the need to see you again, a necessary step in clearing his conscience.

“Seokmin!”

“Hey! Ready for apartment shopping?”

“You bet. I just have one more thing to get in my bedroom. My wallet, it’s somewhere in there. Would you mind helping?”

“Oh yeah, sure. Uh…”

Entering the house, he allows the door to gently close, his footsteps echoing softly behind you. Observing the calm chaos of the room, he notices you tending to one side of your bedroom, and he contemplates, “In a drawer maybe?”

“Maybe? Just anywhere but—Wait, not there!”

He heeds your warning a second too late, pulling open a drawer revealing an array of toys too numerous to count—silicone, glass, plastic, and leather alike. The drawer houses an endless collection of items, all meticulously encased as if stored for display. One in particular catches his eye—a beautiful set of restraints that appear velvety soft to the touch. "Holy—"

Swiftly, you close the drawer, shielding its contents from prying eyes, and gently push him aside. “Hey! Don’t judge. He’s always been one buy these things, not like anything’s wrong with them. They were fun, at first at least.”

“I’m not judging, but backtrack. Ropes?”

Hesitancy singes the tip of your tongue. “He said silk ties slip off too easy to escape out of.” Your hand rests on your other wrist, reliving the memory somewhat fondly until it sinks down in your gut. “Rope leaves burns to remember how they felt. Like I said, they were fun. Until it became only what he wanted. Because it has always been what he wanted, and when I wouldn’t give it to him anymore, well…we all know how he handled that.”

“...Yeah I do.”

For the first time, a glimpse of sadness graces your expression in Seokmin’s presence, as if your relationship bears an unspoken sorrow. The furrow of your brows accentuates the subtle sighs and mild frown that follow. He yearns to soothe those features, wishing to impart a gentle reassurance, to convey it wasn't your fault if that was a concern. However, silence prevails as he observes you swiftly refocus on finding your missing item.

“Come on. Let’s keep looking.”

Complying with your request, Seokmin sifts through your belongings, eventually retrieving the misplaced wallet from beneath the bed. Announcing his discovery, you release a breath of relief and claim it back at your fingertips. He prizes the brief smile on your face before proceeding with the rest of today's plans.

The search for fortitude after it was all over went as well as expected, with most encounters with potential sellers assuming that you were looking for places with Seokmin, not just with Seokmin as each other's company. After the fifth apartment for sale, correcting them becomes less of an effort, and you find yourself momentarily forgetting that all of this is for your own distant, separate futures.

You arrive home, starved and parched from your scheming and Seokmin, ever the gentleman, playfully suggests that he takes charge of the evening’s dinner. You, as usual, politely resist, already taking the initiative a step before he could, following his lighthearted protests. Eventually, you compromise, allowing him the duty of gathering produce from the fridge and placing them on the kitchen island.

The absence of your spouse during these dinners has become a common occurrence, allowing his presence replaced by a string of repetitive excuses that you could only assume were to cover up his ongoing affair. It’d still leave a resonating ache in the pit of your stomach, but you’d be lying if you said the sensation hadn’t dulled since meeting Seokmin.

“If you don’t mind me asking, you said it hurt.”

“What did?”

"The ropes—if that's okay to ask! I—" His cheek flushes into a furious red, and bashfully, the surface of his palm covers the lower half of his face. Chuckling anxiously to himself, a glimpse of regret becomes evident on his face. "You know what? Never mind."

“No, what? You can ask, it's ok.”

“It’s just. I’m just a little curious.”

“Yes?”

“Being tied down for you was…arousing?”

You softly giggle, “For a bit it did. That’s when I still had a bit of input.”

“When did that stop?”

“Maybe when he got frustrated. I became less willing to do it. I wanted to try other things and he wouldn’t budge either.”

“...Like what?”

“He was always the one in control,” You shrug, “Wanted to try it out for once. He felt insulted.”

“That’s stupid.”

“I know right.” You shake your head. “He was different since. And so was sex. The little we had anyway.”

“...Ami said I was a pussy.”

You pause in your movement, turning your head towards him, observing as his head drops past his shoulders.

“She said I wasn’t a real man. ‘Out of all the men I was arranged to marry, why was it the most pathetic one?’”

You meet eyes, recognizing quiet sorrow in them. “That’s not true.”

“It is. I could be stronger, I could be manlier.”

“You’re very manly, Seokmin,” you reassure.

“Really?”

“Of course you are.”

“...Even if I wondering what it’s like to have those ropes to tie me down? Am I still manly then?”

A surprised and nervous tone colors your words as you feel a response catch in your throat. "Are you serious?"

“Gravely,” he says without thinking. "But, you know, it's just a random thought—"

“Would you like to experience it for yourself?”

“Are you serious?”

“Gravely,” you imitate, grinning.

He gives a tentative nod, the blush now unhidden by his hands. "Okay."

Guiding him back to your bedroom, the soft glow of the lamp casts a warm ambiance. You open the drawer he inadvertently discovered earlier today, its contents revealing an array of intriguing items. With deliberate care, you extract the rope from its designated spot, feeling its smooth texture under your fingertips. The room holds a hushed anticipation as you methodically untangle the rope, each loop a dance of shadows and highlights. You observe Seokmin's gaze, noting the subtle shifts in his expression as he follows the intricate journey of each strand unfurling in the dim light.

A subtle fire charges the air, palpable in the way his breath catches and his eyes widen. There's a flicker of uncertainty in his expression, a nervous anticipation that surfaces as he watches the rope unfold. The gravity of the situation settles in, and you can sense his apprehension growing with each meticulous loop you release. It's as if the sight of the rope carries an unspoken weight, stirring a mixture of curiosity and anxiety in him.

“You look nervous.”

He takes a pronounced swallow, hand coming around his other wrist. “You’ve never done this before, right?”

“I've seen it enough times to mimic it.” You walk towards him cautiously, the subtle rustle of the rope in your hands. "Do you trust me?"

Hesitantly, he nods.

Obediently, he pins his wrists to one another, your fingertips coming around to loop around either one. As you secure the knot, you notice the subtle tension in his shoulders, curiosity playing across his features. The room is filled with a quiet intensity, broken only by the hushed sound of your movements.

"How’s that feel?" You ask, adjusting the knot.

"Kind of tight?"

"Oh, sorry–"

"No, don’t be. It’s interesting," He replies, fingers exploring the texture of the material.

"Interesting, like it feels good?"

"I think so, but…"

"But?"

He hesitated, her gaze shifting toward the window. "How different is it tied to something? Like a bed frame?"

“Pretty different. You have a bit of control with just your wrists tied. When it’s against something…like a bed frame…there’s none of it. You’re kind of helpless.”

“Helpless,” he echoes breathlessly.

“Is that something you want to try too?”

Silently, he nods, his eyes flickering with anticipation. As you start to untangle the ropes, you internally count your breaths, and then lead him to the bed. Your knee sinks into the soft cushion of the mattress, sensing Seokmin's deliberate movement as he gradually takes over the center. His eyes, wide and lucid, silently observe your actions. A concentrated, half-lidded scrutiny follows as you maneuver between his legs, your heart pounding in your chest. With determination, you reach for one wrist, swiftly pinning it to one corner.

As the rope winds its way around his wrist, a subtle shiver courses through him, betraying the nerves that have taken residence beneath his skin. His hands, once steady, now exhibit a discernible tremor, a physical manifestation of the anxious anticipation that tightens every muscle. Then it comes to his second wrist. Each loop seems to tighten the grip of uncertainty, and you can almost hear the accelerated beat of his heart as the binding becomes more tangible. The quiet room amplifies the rustle of the rope, echoing the unease that dances in his eyes, creating a palpable tension that hangs in the air.

His eyes flutter at the pace of his heart, swallowing tension built in his throat, and a shallow breath escapes him. You limply part from your work, reluctant to meet his eyes, as yours bat erratically. Your lips part to speak, but all that escapes is a breathless awe, hardly forming an unsteady “T-there.”

You find yourself unable to avert your gaze, observing as he grapples with the situation. The sight of his struggle seems to compound his embarrassment, evident in his feeble attempts to break free—though it becomes apparent that success is an elusive feat, even with earnest effort.

The memory of your first time is what initially pops into your mind. You remember how anxious you felt–feeling your heart race even between your legs as if it were possible–yet elated to do something so different, and then the pleasure. The sensation of feeling everything at once. Sweat pilled on your skin humiliatingly, only your cries used to fight back. You haven’t thought positively about that experience until now, seeing it reflected onto Seokmin.

“They are really hard to get out of actually,” he chuckles defeatedly, but not so much so that doesn’t find himself enjoying the circumstance.

A nervous hum leaves your nose as you exhale, clenching the arousal between your legs cautiously. “Good now you know. So I guess—”

“I’m really helpless like this…can’t even get out of these on my own.” You perceive the audible constriction in his throat, a subtle indication that becomes evident as he articulates his words. Although unsteady, he isn’t scared. Something else flickers in his vision. Something that almost scares you.

Ultimately, you quietly acknowledge him with a mumble, reaching over to one side to undo your knots, but he stops you with a single word. With your hands trembling, your focus intensifies on the intricate task of trying to loosen the binds that restrain him. Your gaze remains fixed on the knots, avoiding direct eye contact, as the palpable tension in the room mirrors the shackles you’ve put yourselves in: his being physical, while yours are mental.

“Yeah,” you breathe out.

“You look at me differently now don’t you?”

You shake your head apprehensively, your grip tightening around the ropes, half-expecting them to bind you physically, yet realizing it's the thoughts swirling in your mind that truly threaten to restrain you. “Why do you say that?”

There’s a soft scoff that makes its way to your ears, registering his disbelief. “You can’t even meet my eyes…are you embarrassed?”

“No.”

“Then why can’t you look at me?” He asks poignantly.

“I’ve never been in this out position before.”

“In control?”

You take a moment to yourself to breathe, dropping your head, still gripping around the rope lethally. “Seokmin.”

“Look at me,” there’s a hint of a smile in his voice. “I’d feel less shameful if you do… what are you thinking?”

You raise your head and meet his eyes, a blend of vulnerability and determination flickering in your gaze. A myriad of words that could have been spoken in response swirl within you, yet each one remains submerged, reluctant to surface and make its presence known. The weight of unspoken sentiments lingers heavily, creating a palpable silence between you.

In the quiet intensity of the moment, his fingertips hand in the charges air, sifting to move between your digits and lock them together. The unspoken tension between you both transforms into something tangible, hanging in the air like a delicate thread, on the verge of snapping. As your eyes linger on one another, a mutual message is exchanged, and without a word, the distance closes.

The kiss is gentle at first, before the heat of his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, softly pulling it towards him. Your lip lock only intensifies as your body presses against his, responding to the desperation that has woven its way through the conversation. The room, once filled with fervency, now holds the soft symphony of a connection finding its place.

As the moment stretches, you muster the strength to finally pull away, cognizant that the power to do so rests solely with you. A gentle reluctance permeates the atmosphere, tinting it with a subdued pink rather than the earlier flickering intensity of red, as you gradually draw back.

Your gazes linger for a fleeting moment, exchanging unspoken promises and silently acknowledging the connection that perhaps shouldn't have been forged. The room retains the echo of the shared intensity, leaving both of you contemplating the significance of what had just transpired.

You release yourself from his touch, the sensation lingering on your skin as your mind wanders, assessing the unfolding actions and the potential consequences. However, despite your attempt at detachment, his words persistently weave through the corridors of your thoughts, rendering any escape from their influence seemingly impossible. “You like being in control?”

You eventually nod.

“Act like it.”

“How?” You question, eyes searching for guidance.

“However you want?”

You seize a fleeting moment, the world around you momentarily suspended, as you deliberate, attempting to release the grip of your inhibitions. The soft murmur of your surroundings becomes a distant echo, drowned out by the internal dialogue that unfolds as you grapple with the decision to unshackle yourself from the mental constraints that have held you captive. It's someone else's job now, not yours. After a thoughtful pause, you finally exhale, uttering a simple but profound, "Okay."

You press yourself against him, your knees locking him at his waist. “Just don’t go whining about it. Or do.” Your hand glides over his restrained wrist, fingering over the vein revealed from his uncuffed sleeve dropping to his forearm, as your other hand claims his face. Initially soft and cool, your touch carries an understated gentleness. Yet, beneath its surface lies a latent warmth that simmers on the skin, gradually intensifying like a path of hellfire. A burgeoning confidence unfolds in you like a delicate bud blossoming into a vibrant bloom. It unfolds gradually but with a definite determination, poised to flourish. “There’s not much else you can do anyway. Isn’t that how you like it?”

"Yes," he confesses, his lungs momentarily devoid of air, the admission hanging in the space like a weighty secret reluctantly released.

The corners of your lips gracefully curl upwards, imparting a subtle but undeniable sense of amusement or satisfaction. “To answer your question earlier, being tied down does still make you manly.” Your hand runs down the length of his arm, settling against the structure of his collarbone, closing the distance between your lips and his honey-glazed skin. "I believe the epitome of true masculinity is found in the act of surrender. It's about willingly placing oneself in a position of trust, embracing vulnerability with unwavering courage."

"Really," he challenges, doubt injecting a sharp edge into his words. "You think that highly of me? Even though you’re the one that can do whatever you want with me?”

“I do.”

You pull apart from him, distancing your bodies and sinking into the bed once you find its edge. You bat your eyes back at him slowly as your hand lands on the top of your chest, releasing a slow and steady breath. “It is simply your form of expression, and in return, I’ll show you mine.”

You fiddle with your buttons, exposing skin bit by bit. Your chest heaves and your legs shift to raise your upper body, anchored by your calves and ankles. Your blouse drops down your shoulders to leave your body, and your cladded breasts are what Seokmin gravitates to first.

Seokmin’s eyes ventured from your lines, the curves once hidden underneath the barrier of your clothes, now in plain sight like art mounted for display. He processes the fullness of your thighs as they drop against your hind legs, and he doesn’t hear the whimper that makes it past his contorted lips.

Hands gripping the sheets, you crawl in prowess towards him wide-eyed until you’re between his legs once again. “Nervous?”

He takes a gulp, his voice tight. “Not in the slightest.”

“Good.” Your fingers move similarly to before, now with your pants which have clung to your body since you’ve worn them.

Seokmin doesn’t for a moment think of a thing as the fabric pulls over your thighs, skin revealing like the first appearance of colored television, nothing short of a visual marvel. He feels gutted, grappling with his restraints. As the sight of you draws near, the longing for your touch bolsters, and an undeniable compulsion surges within him. He barely manages to make out your name in timid haste.

“I’m curious what is like for you to touch my body. How’d you stroke my skin, or caress my legs,” You softly tease, pleased to see the effect you’ve made as he visibly clenched his abdomen. “but I wonder more what it's like for you unable to do a thing as I undress myself.”

"Devastating, truly," he remarks with a chuckle, the irony hanging heavier in the air than any spoken words could convey. “I never thought I’d despise being on the receiving end of a strip tease. Emphasis on tease.”

The pants hit the floor as you shrug them off, “Well, that’s the point of tying you up. You wondered what it was like.” You grinned impishly, “Can’t say you’re disappointed because you didn’t get what you wanted”

“Well, I wouldn’t. Though, I’d appreciate it if—“ Your itching hand grazes the top of his dress shirt, finding the top button and delicately allowing it to come apart. “—if. Ahem. Uh…”

“Yes?”

“I, uh…” he never does finish that sentence, too preoccupied with every button displaced, slowly revealing the tension of his bare torso. He shivers as a brisk draft ripples through his body, his shirt with its open flaps curtaining his taut body, flexing in suspense. “I lost my train of thought…”

You softly chortle as the tip of your nail travels down his concave valleys in interest. “I bet you did.”

Inescapably, you find yourself drawing closer with only a whisper of space between the two of you. Unseen, the sound of Seokmin’s belt unravels, and his eyes widen in shock—catching him off guard. You watch him hauntingly while your hands admire him in a way he’s never even dreamt of.

You roll his erect nipples between your fingers. “Does it excite you? To get doted on? All the attention on you?”

He whimpers quietly, a sigh weakly following. “Yes.”

Your smile lifts up from one end, parting your lips curiously as you tighten your fingers. He winces with short bursts of gasps following and his legs writhe in place while his eyes gloss over in teary awe. “Like when I compliment you? Or when I’m teasing your pretty little parts?”

“Yes. Both.” You wrapped your lips on his bud, the front of your teeth grazing his sensitive skin, and you sucked in your breath. He emits the lightest, airiest of sighs and dips his lower torso into the bed. The rope's friction bit into his skin, undoubtedly causing a burning sensation, only further enticing him.

You softly scoff, leveling your face with him. Your hand glides soothingly over his cheek, cooled by sweat pilling on his forehead, now your inadvertent warmth contrasting against him. “I'm honestly surprised by you, Seokmin. If you wanted me to tie you up, you should’ve just said so. I’d easily comply.”

He nuzzles against your touch, the tip of his nose tracing the crevice of your palm. “I’m sorry.”

You offer him a gentle, welcoming smile. “Don’t be. You’re under my care now.”

“…Am I?”

“Well, are you?”

He moans your name again, longing your hands against his body as you only caress his skin without so much an inkling of moving lower. “Please, that's all I want.”

“What is it you want then?” You grab his chin between your thumb and index. “Tell me everything.”

“Whatever you want to do with me.”

“And if I wanted to just play all evening?” You tested.

He nods back determined. “I’d let you.”

“If I’d sit on your face?”

His breath cuts off in his throat, losing sanity over the potential of your arousal drowning him in bliss. “I’d make sure I’m a proper seat.”

“If I don’t let you cum?”

He clenches his fists, exhaling as you meet your knee with his crotch, where a tent pitched itself right in his trousers. It moves anxiously, already submerging himself in the power of your words. “I’d wait my turn. No matter how long it takes.”

“…And if I want to milk you dry.”

“I’d give you my lifeline…I’m yours.”

In that fleeting moment, the rest of the world dissolves into insignificance. You find yourself yielding to the warmth of his gaze, entranced by the cadence of his language and the resonance of his tone. Finally, you did just what was inevitable.

As Seokmin is bare down to his skin, your hand travels down to the base of his shaft and glides up delicately to his tip. Your lips pressed generously against his collarbone, nipping at his smooth and flustered skin. Your thumb strokes over his veins, grip squeezing his girth, and inadvertently he whines out of his control.

“You’re teasing me…”

“Is that not what you wanted?” Your lips gradually trail down his chest, lowering to hover right over his length that stands mere inches away from your face. “Or are you wanting something more?”

“Of course, I want what you want. I’m s-sorry…”

The tip of his cock kisses against your lips and twitches upon contact. You feign innocence in his gaze and purse your lips. “I can’t help but think, you want me to wrap my lips around your cock. Stuff down my throat. Spill your hot cum inside me.”

“Please,” he moans.

You slot him between your lips and suck on his sensitivity. You hum his name, every syllable vibrating around his skin. He groans observing you, nearly thrusting into your mouth before you decide to slam down his thighs. “Mmh-Mhh, you know better than to do that.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeatedly mumbles, “You’re just so pretty there.”

“Though that may be, you chose to trust me, and now I need to trust you. Behave.”

He swallows apprehensively. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll apprehend you if you don't. I have more than one set of ropes.”

Seokmin’s heart slightly twitches at that, but he decides to obey for now, hoping there’s another opportunity another day. He wouldn’t want to test his limits.

His cock has made its way between your lips once again, exploring deeper until you meet halfway down his length. With your free hand, you tend to his remaining size, feeling it pulse in your touch. His groans become the background music for his symphony of arousal, while the sensation of your hallowed cheeks tug against him.

You allow him to plunge deeper, wide eyes peering at him for his reaction, and you feel the impulsive thrust of his hips again. Only this time, you let him. You feel every inch consume you, lodged far down your airways, traveling at a needy–even desperate–pace. You shut your eyes, feeling your tears burn your skin. Ultimately, you pull out before he gets close, registering his pink cheeks and bite-swollen lips after regaining your sight. You cough away from him, catching your breath and the apology leaving Seokmin’s lips once again.

“I’m so sorry! Fuck! I–”

“I said I’d apprehend you, didn't I?”

You make good on your promise and another pair of ropes makes an appearance, pinning him at either corners of the bed and splaying him like a starfish, rendering him completely defenseless.

He deserves this, he thought, unable to resist the inexplicable thrill that coursed through him. He’d struggle against the rope had it not been for the remainder of your strip show. The slow slip of your bra strap, the release of your clasp, baring you raw in your gorgeous glory. If he had his fists, he’d be biting them. Hell, if he had any control of his limbs, he’d worship you on the very floor you walk on, crushed under you the ball of your feet, and using his hands for your pleasure and your pleasure only.

Perhaps that’s why he could not help but be more aroused like a teenager discovering porn for the first time. That was the beauty of it. It was something Ami never understood. She wanted him to do it all: be the dominant partner all the time, be a one-and-done fucking machine. You are willing to explore things, even with him, and you didng make him feel small about it. He can’t help but feel eternally grateful it's with him.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he had already fallen for you the moment his eyes laid on your photos. He couldn’t believe the sight you were nor the fact that you were on the receiving end of this distress. He knew he had to meet you. He just hadn’t factor in what it’d do to him when it happens.

Even as your legs border either of his side, he’s in disbelief. Your pretty cunt stares back at him in want, aching for his presence just as he aches to explore you. He can feel the drool make it past the corner of his lips as your heat radiates off you, just before letting his raw length part your walls.

A hearty moan escapes you, and all Seokmin can think of how sweet it sounds in company with the moisture of your arousal. Your knees dig into the mattress as you adjust to his size, hips naturally grinding against him before he fully is plunged inside. Drinking in his groans, you slightly fall forward and find your grip on the bedframe, not realizing how easy it is to claim Seokmin’s hands.

A smile tugs at your lips as you delicately weave your fingers through his. You rest your forehead against his, softly cooing back at him. “You’re being so good for me.”

“Anything for you," he responds, his voice filled with a tender, intimate sincerity.

“Mmh, Seokmin...”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Would you like the control of your hands again?”

His eyes flicker back at you, seeing the certainty in your eyes, before hesitatingly nodding. Carefully, you release him, gently soothing the red marks on either wrist. Pleadingly, he asks for your permission to touch you, and easily you oblige, taking his hands. You guide him where he may touch, letting them stroke up your sides. You softly sigh as you let him regain his power, letting it surge through him as he replenishes feeling in his arms.

He balls your flesh in fists, pushing deeper inside you as his tongue grows more possessive. You clench around him, hands accessing his body like free real estate, playing with all the amenities. “Are you that happy? Touching me like I’m yours?”

He throws his head back, assessing his grip on you to pull you forward, giving you a long awaited liplock. He rediscovers your plush tongue, retracing its pattern as he pushes you closer against him to the best of his abilities with his contradicted ankles. He claims you from your lower back, rolling his hips against you, as your furnace-hot body intoxicates him like a drug. “I’m elated. You make me so happy. You have no idea.”

Your exuberant sounds fold over one another, building the tension off your bodies until you’ve reach their highest form. Seokmin was the first to express it. Even before he mumbles how close he is, he’s embracing you tighter as his hot breath fans down your flustered body. To that, you say the first response that comes to mind. “Cum in me.”

“W-without a—“

You tense tighter around him, legs clutching around him desperately. “Cum inside me, Seokmin.”

You get what you want in the end. The streams of white warmth painting your inside are perfection. Like bursts of ribbons in a festive air, he releases a lingering sense of ecstasy. Falling against his chest, you count his pants by the heave of his chest, drifting off from fatigue.

With the bit of energy you had left, you undo Seokmin’s knots, and rest comes easy, no matter how early into the night it still is.

You don’t remember the last time you were held like this. You don’t know if you were held ever like this. His eyes, though weary, radiate a smile that mirrors the gentle curve of his lips. A hand slides behind your head, fingers gently stroking, and his soft sighs become a melodic comfort, conveying solace without the need for words. In his presence, a profound sense of peace envelops you, creating a reluctance to part from this moment of tranquility.

Dinner, once a fleeting moment before the spontaneous decision of sex, turns into a midnight meal, a meal draped in each other comfort. Seokmin effortlessly slips into your comforting pair of sweatpants, while you envelop yourself in his once-abandoned dress shirt, a tangible reminder of the intimacy shared. Together, you concoct a pot of instant ramen, opting for the simplicity of a quick meal rather than the meticulousness of a dish crafted from scratch.

“That smells delicious,” he compliments.

“Sorry, it couldn’t be better.”

His hands find a secure hold on your body, his head gently resting over your shoulder. "It's no bother at all. Plus, you've already worked up quite an appetite."

His kisses, soft against your temple, coincide with the casual embrace of his arms around your waist. Your curves seamlessly mold into the contours of his body, like two pieces naturally falling into place, creating a comforting bond between your bodies.

“Stil, you deserve better than ramen.”

“It’s Shin ramen. It's the best of its kind. I’m more than honored.”

“You’re silly…I like that.”

“Good. I like you. I’m glad that I got to meet you.” His words are accompanied by a gentle squeeze of your hand.

You grin. “Me too…but we can’t do that again.”

“Oh, well why not?”

"Well, for now." You playfully tap his nose with a chopstick. "Let's wait until everything is done. Until we’re both free again.”

He sighs, dejected at your request. “You’re right, but…”

He effortlessly lifts you from the ground and you drop your utensils on the ground. Abruptly, he settles you onto the kitchen counter. The coolness from the marble is chilling as the surface provides a sudden, invigorating contrast to your warm skin. Startled, your eyes flutter back at him, steadying yourself with hands resting on his shoulders. You succumb to the warmth in his eyes, a honeyed allure that wraps you in the comforting embrace of his touch.

“How do you expect me to live on without you in my arms? I’ll never know peace like it.” Seokmin's voice carries a warmth that wraps around you like a blanket, one that is not weighted with darkness and anxiety, but instead laden with love and good faith.

You respond by pulling him into a tight embrace, legs playfully anchoring around his torso. A smile graces your lips as you enjoy the closeness. “A test of faith. Then we can truly enjoy each other's company.”

“I’ll be counting the days then,” he says with a smile

You persist in meeting Seokmin, navigating the divorce process until you're on the verge of its completion. Ironically, amidst the dissolution's purpose, you sense the blossoming of a new connection amid the ruins of another.

“You didn’t have to take me home. You know how risky it is.”

He sighs, squeezing your hand in his, dreading the moment you have to leave. He has grown accustomed to your presence, and every night without you feels like a painful void in his heart, as he awaits the arrival of the following morning. "I can't wait until this is all over."

“Me too. I’ll see you tomorrow, and the day after and the day after—“

“Lord knows how we get any work done,” he giggles.

"I know, right." You let the moment linger a second longer before sharing a final embrace, stealing a kiss on his cheek as you slip away from his grasp. Through the tinted windows, you smile, aware of the blush you've ignited on his face.

Arriving home, the joy is dampened by the sight of familiar shoes. Suppressing your unease, you greet your husband with a forced smile, avoiding eye contact. "Mingyu? Honey? Is that you? No overtime tonight?

You're met with a stern expression and a decisive declaration. Devoid of warmth, he slams a stack of papers onto the kitchen counter–documents that have become all too familiar over these past few weeks.

“I want a divorce.”

622 notes · View notes

russellsppttemplates · 1 year

Text

We're a couple of idiots, aren't we? (Charles Leclerc)

You had always been there to see Charles race and you wouldn't let your fight interfere with that

Note: english is not my first language. I'm not the best at writing angst pieces, but I hope this one is decent enough!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: family issues (alludes to the caregiver necessities), couple fight

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

It all began when you came home later than expected, the tiredness evident in your eyes as you paced your bag down on the sofa and allowed yourself to rest for a little, "Hey, amour", Charles whispered, testing to see if you were awake as he walked inside the living room, "hey", you said, patting the seat next to you.

Kissing your forehead, Charles sat next to you, "how was your day?", he asked, rubbing your thigh, "exhausting", you sighed, "and the next few are going to be even worse. I probably won't be home for dinner tomorrow anyway".

Charles felt uneasy, squirming around in his seat. You had been working a lot, your family also needed you on their side since your grandparents needed more assistance these days, so you and Charles haven't been able to spend that much time together. And wether it was the fact that you're used to being around eachother or the fact that the season was not going as expected, Charles felt like he hadn't spent enough time with the person he considered his safe and happy place.

"You have been very busy, I feel like I've hardly spent time with you", Charles noted, and maybe it was a seemingly honest comment that wasn't intended to be taken as harmful as you did.

"I know I've not been home, Charles, you think I don't feel that too? I know we haven't spent much time together just the two of us, but it's not been easy! Everyone needs me here, there and everywhere at the same time, and I also need time for me!", you let out.

Unexpectedly, your words also impacted Charles in a way you didn't think they would, "I know you've been busy, but we also need to spend time together, no? Or is our relationship not something we should invest time on? In a relationship, we both need eachother", he gulped. A weird and new feeling sat in his chest, like he was pressuring you and that he was burdening you.

"We do, but we also need to let eachother have some time, too!", you said, feeling anger, sadness, and overall tiredness from your recent days, "I'm going to bed", you mumbled, getting up and heading for your shared bedroom.

The energy you had left in your body was only enough to allow you to wash your face, noticing the dull and dark tone as you quickly rubbed some moisturiser on, grabbing your pyjamas to out them on and lay in bed, taking a painkiller for the growing headache.

When Charles finally go to the bedroom, he noticed you were already asleep on your side of the bed, carefully walking along the side so he could kiss your forehead before he too got ready for bed.

By the time the next morning arrived, Charles had ready left, and when you grabbed your phone, notifications from various WhatsApp groups popped up.

Mum + Dad

Can you go by grandma's house today? She was complaining of some pain and we can't remember if her meds box is sorted out or not.

Ferrari GP Weekend

Okay, just to make sure I'm not leaving anyone out: Y/N, you're not coming this weekend, right?

Since your family had been needing you to spend more time with them and at home, you had already said that you weren't sure you'd be joining them for that Grand Prix, and last night's fight settled the subject.

Texting both of the groups, you got up and got ready for the day, already knowing it was going to be a tough one.

You and Charles didn't fight a lot, at least not like this. Usually, you always found a way to talk about things and sort them out. So even this was new territory, not having talked about the subject and finding a common ground, because the situation you both left it at the night before was not the one to have.

Throughout the day, you hopefully texted Charles saying that you'd try to be home so you could talk to eachother before he left later on the evening, and while you intended to keep it, you had to text him again

To Charles

I'm sorry, but I don't think I'll be home until nighttime. My grandma needs me and it's going to take a while.

Have a safe flight. Can you text me when you land, please? Love you ✨️

True to your word, you sat in your bedroom with the moon already shinning through the windows and showcasing perfectly Charles' bedside table with none of his rings, watch and bracelets where he usually put them when he was at the house.

"Why did I arrive to the paddock today only to find out that you are not joining me this weekend?", Francisca said over the phone, apparently not even bothering to wish you a good morning, even though it clearly wasn't one.

"Because I've been the busiest bee ever under the sun, and I also had a fight with Charles, and I need to sleep for three days straight to recover", you replied back, noticing the change in Pierre's girlfriend's tone.

"Oh", she added, "I'm sorry, it's just that you're always here and I haven't been able to talk to him properly yet, maybe it's a good thing I haven't yet", she admitted.

One thing you liked about her, was how honest she was with you, and you needed it right now, "do you think I should go? We left the subject hanging and it's not something light we can just solve over the phone. And besides, I've always been there for these races, and he deserves as much support as he can get", you asked, chewing on your bottom lip as you waited for her answer.

"I have no idea why you fought, nor do I want to know unless you feel comfortable in telling me, but I do know that you're made for eachother, so if your heart tells you to come to the race, you should", she advised and you could hear the smile on her voice, "besides, I love your company, so it's a win win".

From all the times you had previously travelled with Charles, you had become acquainted and a pro a listing what you needed for the race weekends, so packing was easy and quick: two changes of clothes for both colder and warmer weather, basic toiletries bag in a backpack with entertainment and snacks for the flight.

The early hours allowed you to get to the airport without any traffic and make it to the gate with enough time to spare so you could grab a coffee to go.

Francisca knew you were coming, and after having a conversation with your family, you explained to them how the whole situation was putting pressure not only on you but also on your relationship with Charles. As you expected, they were not aware of how the situation was on your side and sat down with you so you could find a better arrangement.

Arriving at the airport of destination, you quickly found the transport line that would be taking you to the closest stop near the paddock, gradually seeing fans get inside as the stops approached the track site.

You followed them in, wanting to go as unnoticed as possible as you walked along them.

"I just saw on Instagram that Charles had left his hotel a while ago, so he should be here any minute now", a young woman around your age commented with her friends, stopping by the benches you were sitting in. Turns out you were waiting for the same person after all.

"Is it okay if we sit here?", one of them asked kindly, "Oh, you're Y/N", one of the girls said.

Nodding, you pushed your backpack to rest near your legs, "of course you can sit", you smiled, still not used to the fact that fans often recognised your face.

"Thanks!", she scurried nervously, urging her friends to sit, seeing their surprised faces as they looked at you, "Also, I'm sorry, I'm sure this is weird for you, that I know your name and you don't know mine, I- we didn't expect to find you here", she apoligised, finally sitting down.

"It's okay, unless you're going to turn out to be come crazy stalker fan, I think we will be fine", you smiled, hoping they would catch the joke and relax a little.

"No no no!", they all said, smiling when you smiled back, "but, may I ask what you're doing here? I mean, don't you have an all access pass?", one of them wondered as she sat next to you.

"I'm surprising Charles, actually", you added, feeling like saying anything else would not only be violating yours and Charles' privacy, but also allowing the creation of rumours you wouldn't want, "I wasn't originally coming to see him race, but some things cleared up on my calendar so I thought I'd surprise him", you finished, seeing them smile, "do you come to watch races regularly?", you asked, changing the subject hopefully subtly enough that they wouldn't notice too much.

Conversation was flowing easily, really, they seemed like really nice girls and it never felt invasive, so the time you had to wait went by quickly, hearing people call your boyfriend's name.

You could notice his presence anywhere, that was a given. Wether it was his well trained torso that made spotting him even from his back, or his handsome face, it wasn't hard yo miss him even surrounded by fans who were wearing the same t-shirt as him.

"Let me stand around you so he won't notice me", you said, "with how enamoured he is of you, I'm sure it won't be long", one of the girls, named Lyla, you learned, spoke, wanting to see the scene unfold as he approached you.

"Hi!", Charles greeted, posing for the pictures while he signed the caps they had, not noticing your hand holding one of his own caps was in the mix.

"Charles! Can you sign this, please?", you asked, hoping you were loud enough, "I was not coming to see you race today, but I'm very happy I did", you almost yelled, thanking the fact that the other girls had helped you by keeping quiet until he realised you were there.

It was enough for Charles to recognise the voice. After all, he had been longing to hear it for the past couple of days.

"Y/N, you're here!", he called, handing Lyla the permanent marker before he hugged you, "I missed you so much, I'm sorry", he whispered on your ear before pulling back a little so he could look you in the eye, "you don't have a pass, do you?", he wondered, seeing you shake your head, "I'll see what I can do, but you're coming with me", he smiled, holding your hand in his and bidding goodbye to the group of girls after you all took a group picture.

The rush until you arrived in his driver's room didn't allow you to talk until you sat on the sofa after greeting everyone and thanking one of the team members for getting you a pass on such short notice.

"Do you think we can talk about it? I don't want to ruin the race by distracting you from it, but I don't think we should be here and not discuss it either", you brought the subject, looking up to see Charles push a chair and sit in front of you, "I want to apologise first", you said, "I never should have said what I said, especially the way I said it, I'm sorry", you apologised, "I never intended it in a way that would hurt you".

Charles grabbed your hands, lacing them in his and looking into your eyes, "I'm sorry, too. I think we should talk about it, too. I want this to be solved, I want us to be well", he admitted.

"My grandparents have been needing a bit more help, and my parents counted on me for it. And I feel like I haven't spent that much time with you, and I'm so sorry for it, but sometimes it just got too much. And I didn't want to burden you, you have your own things to worry about and this would be another thing. They're better now and this was probably a bad phase, but still", you explained.

Charles chuckled before he saw the confusion on your face, "no, I'm joking about this, amour. I'm glad they're better", he reasoned, "but I thought I was being a burden because I felt like I was clingy, like I needed you more than usual and that you had had enough. I didn't want to put more on your plate", he sighed.

Smiling at him, you moved your hand to caress his cheek, "you could never be too much, Charles. Sometimes I just need to deal with things on my own for a bit, even if there is help from someone else", you blushed.

"I know you need me to give you the space you need, that's why I didn't want to push you to talk about things, because as much as I want to craddle you in my arms forever and shield you away from the world's evil, I know you like to do things on your own, at least at first", he noted, earning your silent agreement, "but I'm here for you, always. I'm glad we worked that out", he smiled, pulling your face to his and kissing you deeply, only stopping when someone knocked on the door.

"I heard my favourite girl is back in the paddock, so I suggest you come out because I'm not feeling like I want to see whatever is going on there", your recognised Francisca's voice, getting up and opening the door to see Pierre by her side, "I told her she shouldn't interrupt you two, but she was very excited to know how the surprise went", he smiled.

"A very good surprise indeed, the best one ever", Charles said, pulling you in for one last kiss before he ventured out to the garage, a new feeling of confidence knowing you were there to watch him race.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

741 notes · View notes

revasserium · 25 days

Note

hi! I've been reading your opla!zoro stuff and I wanted to tell you your writing is so gorgeous! it's truly breathtaking, you're really talented ❤️ i've looked through your prompts tag, im not sure how requesting works, but could I ask for "edge of falling" or "the spaces between us" (whichever one you like the most) with zoro and fem!reader? i'm a goner for longing and feelings realization and the prompts give me those vibes, but i'm sure anything you write will be lovely <3

reqs are open!

the edge of falling

opla!zoro; 7,475 words; fluff and angst, hurt/comfort, passing mentions of: cult!, physical violence, & trauma/cult-programming, ex-cult member!reader, strawhat!reader, traumatized!reader, protective!zoro, healing from past trauma, learning to trust etc, angst with a happy ending!, a metric TON of plot

summary: "Lie to me," Time said to Love; Love smiled and said, "I promise, I'll never let you slip away."

a/n: thank u for the request anon!!! i uhm idk what happened with this fic tbh. there's def uh -- longing of SOME kind here??? welp. pls read the tw list! there's some dark-ish content in this. but i promise it ends well u__u

prelude: in which a fox teaches you to speak

Time is the greatest liar, so you are told, over and over and over. For the longest time, you think it’s the only truth you’ll ever know.

But we will live forever…

So long as you do the things you’re told. So long as you make the Fox happy. So long, so long, so long.

There is no way to mark the passage of time in the compound; with no sunlight to guide the way, you are left to other, more primal ways of keeping track — that elusive, silver-fish creature — time — always slipping through your fingers when want to hold on most.

You measure it in wounds, in the time it takes for a fresh wound to seal over, for the scab to break and reveal the soft, tender pink flesh beneath. You measure it in gulps of water, in bites of cold food, in the droplets of artificial rain that they let fall through the ceiling sometimes. You measure it in rewards too, in long baths and hot meals, in the evenings when the Fox would tell you stories in his low, lilting voice instead of leaving you in his seething silences.

And he is ever so good with stories. If you stay still and keep quiet, and let his voice wash over you like a hungry tide across a rain-starved beach, you can feel the words seeping into your bones, ringing out till they feel like nothing but god’s given truth.

As long as you’re good… I promise I’ll make you live forever.

Like this, you learn the weapon of words, the power of speech, how to listen for lies, and how to tell them, and tell them, and tell them.

The Fox is good at lying; you’ll just have to learn to be better.

act i: yet another sad, desperate soul

Roronoa Zoro has never been a man of many words, but it would be remiss to say that he isn’t a man of his word — you see, when he does speak, he speaks with intention. And always, with conviction.

“Hey. No one’s gonna hurt you anymore.”

This, then, is the first lie he tells you.

“Liar.” You spit out the word, drawing back, your body a tangle of livewire nerves, your eyes darting back and forth, an entire life’s worth of fight and flight caught on the hair-pin trigger of his breath as he jolts back slightly and blinks at you.

“Y-you — you can’t know that,” you say, your voice still ragged. But Zoro sees it for the attempt it is — an olive branch, however tentatively extended. And he takes it, wordlessly.

He nods once, reaching out to help you up. The compound crumbles around you, and you unconsciously wrap your arms around yourself, as if to hold yourself together, to keep from shattering into a hundred million tiny little shards of pain and mistrust.

“The fox-guy’s dead! But it looks like this whole island’s gonna blow!” Nami races out of the massive, temple-esque structure just as it starts to collapse from the inside out.

Luffy slingshots passed, cackling as Sanji and Usopp bring up the rear. On the Merry, Robin and Chopper are waiting, and the second Zoro manages to hoist you onto the main deck, the ship careens off into the dark tumult of waves.

You skitter away the minute Zoro’s arm slips from around your waist, and he turns to find you pressing yourself back against the railings, staring at them all with wide eyes, your expression caught halfway between fear and consternation. He takes half a step back, crossing his arms just as Luffy bounds forward with a bright, unassuming smile.

“Don’t worry! You’re safe now!” He makes to slap one of your shoulders but you duck out of the way, chewing on your bottom lip.

Robin clears her throat gently and offers you a smile, “We’re not going to hurt you.”

You narrow your eyes, your gaze darting between them like a trapped animal, but after another beat of stillness (punctuated only by Nami swearing softly to herself as she steers the Merry around a particularly difficult formation of rocks), your entire body seems to soften, and Zoro uncrosses his arms again, resting a hand casually on the hilt of his blades.

“Th-thank you…” you bob your head once, swallowing hard passed chapped lips and a raw throat. Your white linen dress is stained with blood and dirt, a tear at your collar making it slip from your shoulder.

“’S alright now, darlin’ — how bout we run you a nice, hot bath? I could cook you just about anything y’like. Fancy a drink as well? I think a bubbly would be good for a —”

“Lay off, cook.” Zoro cuts Sanji off with a scoff, barring Sanji’s approach with an arm in the gut.

You watch them with dark eyes, your expression curiously blank.

“Will you let me look at your wounds?” Chopper offers.

You jump a little at his voice, piping up from your left side. You glance at Zoro once before looking back at Chopper and nodding.

Sanji tucks his hands into his pockets and watches as Chopper leads you beneath the deck, Zoro following a few steps behind. He lights a cigarette as soon as the trap door clanks shut.

A beat of silence, and then —

“Wow, that island really, really sucked!” Luffy says, turning back to his crew.

Sanji lets out a puff of smoke as Usopp slumps down against the main mast with a groan.

“You can say that again.”

“What happened?” Robin asks.

Sanji sighs, shaking his head, “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

Below deck, Chopper dabs at your wounds with expert ease as you sit very still on the kitchen island and Zoro watches from the sofa, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“These surface wounds aren’t that bad but…” Chopper trails off, his eyes running over the network of old scars that mar your skin, layers and layers of them — down your arms and along your torso.

“It’s fine,” you say, your voice smooth as polished marble, “I’m —” you swallow, “I’m fine.”

And if it weren’t for the hiccup, the slight hitch in your breath, you would’ve been utterly convincing. Your expression is flat, your voice, even more so.

Across the room, Zoro makes disbelieving noise, “If it hurts, just say so. Chopper’ll fix it.”

“I’m… I’m fine,” you say again, tugging at the sleeve of your torn shift, your tone now a bit more honest, your words tired and resigned. Zoro looks to Chopper, who gives a faint nod of acquiescence before Zoro stands up and jerks his head towards the door.

“Cook’s right — you should wash up before dinner.”

You follow him down the hallway, through a small door that leads into a washroom that’s much cleaner than one might expect a ship’s bathroom to be. A large, wooden soaking tub sits in the middle of the room, and a clean change of clothes has already been laid out on a bench next to the bath.

Zoro grunts after he takes a once-over of the room, satisfied that all’s in order, and makes to leave.

You tug at his sleeve, head lowered.

“Can you…” you lick your lips, “can you stay?”

Zoro glances down at your fingers curled into his shirt sleeve before his eyes flick up to find your face. You’re looking at some indiscriminate point over his left shoulder, but your lips are trembling and your jaw is set.

He lets out a long breath, slowly twisting his body towards the room and you.

“Sure.”

He makes a show of turning around to face the door as you slip off your clothes and sink into the steaming bath water. A long exhale and the light slosh of water is all the indication he gets that it’s safe to turn back around.

He leans himself against the door, his swords propped on his shoulder, his head lolled back, his eyes closed.

He listens to the soft sounds of the water, to the faint splashes as you rub the grit and grime from your skin, inch by inch.

“We were only allowed to bathe as a reward for doing a good deed.”

Your voice makes him open his eyes, his gaze focusing in on the shape of you, nearly submerged in the bathtub, your hair slick and sticking to your pale shoulders. Even in this dim lighting, he can see the patterns your scars make against your skin. Water glimmers along the contours of your face as you run your palms along your cheeks, rubbing at them till they’re ruddy with color.

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth, “Quit bein’ so rough,” he moves forward without thinking, reaching out a hand to help you with some of the more stubborn pieces of dirt but he pauses, realizing how utterly still you’ve gone.

You stare at him for a long moment before relaxing back into the water and shifting towards the edge of the tub to allow him better access.

He runs a callused thumb along your cheekbones, wiping away the remaining dirt there.

“What was a ‘good deed’?” he asks, letting the tips of his fingers skim the warm water’s surface.

You shrug, “Mostly anything that made Mr. Fox happy… so all of us would —” you take another breath, your hand opening and closing beneath the surface of the still bath water, “we’d spend all our waking hours trying to think of something — anything — that’d please him. No matter how small… no matter how… terrible.”

“This Mr. Fox… what was his deal, anyway?”

You stare down into the dark water, now rapidly cooling from warm to lukewarm.

You take a deep breath, lifting a hand out of the water to distort the image of your ghostly reflection.

“He… was a liar. Except… he could make all his lies sound like the truth.”

“It was uncanny, really,” Sanji says, now at full throttle in the kitchen prepping for dinner service, Usopp lounging on sofa, his feet propped up on the hanging table.

Chopper and Robin both frown.

“What do you mean?” Robin asks.

“It was like… the guy could say anything and make it sound like the truth — even though you knew somewhere inside you that it can’t be real. Like — he could tell you the sky was green and every single part of you would believe him, even though you’re outside and starin’ up at the sky.”

“Yeah! Like he said I’d never be able to beat him and… for a second, I kinda almost believed him!” Luffy offers, munching on a bushel of apples and spitting out the seeds.

Robin’s brows furrow, tapping at her chin with a thin finger.

“It sounds like the Uso-Uso no Mi…”

“Ugh, what a weird, scary power…” Chopper shudders, shaking his head, his tiny hooved hands coming up to cup his cheeks, “I’m sure it’d mess with people’s heads!”

“It sure did. But he also used it to feed false information to the Marines,” Nami says, slipping through the half-opened door to join the rest of the crew on the sofa, “ran a series of taverns that just so happened to be situated in major Marine towns.”

Sanji glances up from a huge, steaming pan of paella, a cigarette caught between his teeth.

“So what was his end goal then? Just to fuck over the Marines?”

Back in the bathroom, you run your fingers along the edge of the tub as if playing an invisible piano.

“Power, domination… I don’t think he had a goal or purpose… I think… he just got off on it…”

Your voice is light, conversational, almost as if you were talking about the weather. But Zoro sees the glazed look in your eyes, the tightness at the edges of your lips.

“You called me a liar,” he says, reaching into the tub and flicking you lightly with a bit of water.

You blink, a smile threatening the corners of your mouth.

“Yeah… guess I did.”

“I wasn’t lying.”

He pulls out his hand and wipes it on a towel, leaning back to stare at you.

You shrug, “Sometimes… people lie to others, and sometimes, people lie to themselves. It’s the ones we tell ourselves that are always the most convincing.”

“I don’t lie. ‘Specially not to myself.”

You let out a tiny laugh, “But I guess… sometimes, if you believe in something hard enough… it’ll just start to be come the truth.”

There’s a note of… something in your voice that Zoro doesn’t like, but he can’t put a name to the feeling so he stays quiet as you continue the laborious work of scrubbing your skin clean, till all the water in the tub’s gone cold.

The rest of the evening passes as most evenings on the Merry do after a big fight — with a lot of food and even more booze. With music and laughter, and new crew member, sitting in the corner, watching mostly and smiling occasionally. No one pushes you, though Sanji does make a valiant effort in getting you to admit to your favorite foods, and Luffy tries two or three times to drag you into the more raucous celebrations (mostly involving way too much meat being roasted on a spike).

No one questions the way Zoro never wanders too far.

No one questions the way your eyes track him around the room, or how, even when Robin and Nami finally get a laugh out of you, you still instinctively searched for Zoro’s figure till you’ve found it in the other corner, a bottle caught between his lips, his eyes half-shut but his gaze caught on you like a fish to a seaman’s hook.

act ii: everything and nothing

A week passes, and then another. And you slowly, but surely, come out of your shell — it’s a strange sort of blossoming, the way you reveal yourself in shards and pieces, jagged and jarring. The shrapnel bits of your personality peaking out amidst the flotsam and jetsam of all your manifold defense mechanisms.

You’re a brilliant liar, but even better at spotting a lie, and it’s a thing that none of the crew had ever really thought about until you’d come along, casually poking holes in their daily deceits.

“Mm! These pancakes are perfect! Just the way I like them!”

“The new dress looks beautiful, Nami.”

“I absolutely did not finish the last bag of popcorn… Luffy did it!”

You clear your throat.

“Okay fine… the pancakes were really good but… but I like them… sweeter.”

“The dress is… well, everything looks gorgeous on you, of course, you know that Nami! But — the color… clashes just a tiny little bit with your… hair.”

“I might’ve uh… taken a few bites out of the popcorn bag… last night… but I was keeping watch and I needed to keep my energy up!”

Robin titters, a sphinx-like smile spreading across her lips.

“Apparently, 60% of people lie at least once every 10 minutes,” she says, casually taking a sip of orange juice as Zoro runs through his daily training regime, seemingly unbothered by the chaos currently taking place on the main deck regarding the “popcorn incident”.

“Dunno why people bother,” Zoro says, working through a set of single-armed burpees.

“I suppose it’s just human nature. We want other people to like us… so we say what we think they might want to hear, instead of what we really think. It’s harmless, mostly,” Robin remarks, leaning back against a white planter box, basking in the shade of the tangerine trees.

“Till it isn’t,” Zoro says, finishing up his workout and pushing himself up for a long stretch. He casts his eyes once more towards where you’re now laughing as Usopp tries to think of some new tall tale to tell.

It only takes you half a second to turn your head, and Zoro wonders at the kind of life you might’ve led to make you so sensitive to another person’s gaze. What must’ve happened to warrant this kind of alertness? But then again, he’d been a hunter long enough to know exactly what being hunted looks like.

He caught a glimpse of it at the compound but — still, his fingers itch toward his swords, his jaw clenches tight enough for Robin to cock her head and raise a brow.

“Yes… until it isn’t…” she echoes, her eyes also trailing towards you.

Zoro holds your gaze for a second before rolling his shoulders and looking away, squinting at the far horizon.

“Oi. Looks like trouble.”

Robin straightens, and a second later, Chopper sounds the alarm from the crow’s nest.

“Marines! Marines!”

There is the shink of swords being drawn, the gentle echo of Robin’s voice as her arms multiply. There’s canon fire and a lot of yelling. But at the end, there’s only bodies and blood and the tattered remains of the Marine’s ship, bobbing in the stained sea below them.

“Should we go after them?” Sanji asks, lighting up a cig, watching as the tiny emergency boat rows off into the distance.

“Nah. We’ll be alright!” Luffy says, wiping a hand across his nose.

Zoro turns towards you, sheathing his swords.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine,” you say, your voice immediately taking on an unctuous sheen that makes Zoro take a step closer.

“You hurt anywhere?” he runs an appraising eye down your form and nods in the knowledge that at least you don’t look hurt.

“No… I —” you chew down on your bottom lip, fingers digging into the bare flesh of your arms. But you back away from him the moment he tries to take a step forward.

“Hey — quit that,” he taps at your wrist with the hilt of his sword, the touch hard but not harsh, forcing you to pull away.

“It’s — I’m — I’m alright,” you say, insistent and mollifying. Zoro runs his thumb against the hilt of his blades and scoffs.

“Liar,” he says, tossing the word casually back at you in a way that makes your breath hitch. Then, he turns, and marches below decks to tend to his own wounds.

A deafening silence rings out around you as you stare down at the ships blood-drenched planks before Robin places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“C’mon now — lets get your back looked at.”

Below decks, you find Zoro dabbing gingerly at a large slash on his right arm.

“Here, you’ve missed a spot —” you reach out to take the iodine soaked cloth from Zoro’s hand, only to have him jerk away. You flinch back, wide-eyed.

Zoro softens, if only ever so slightly.

“I’m fine,” he says, a harsh edge to his voice as he goes back to trying to twist around himself enough to see the spot he’s missed. You purse your lips, watching him for a second, two seconds, three — before you glance back at the place Robin had been only to realize that she’d gone.

“May… I?” you reach out your hand, palm up, tentative and imploring. But you hold yourself still, waiting for Zoro to make the next move. And he does, eventually, sighing as he turns back around to drop the piece of cloth into your palm.

You reach forward as he turns to his side, offering up his arm as you slowly start to wipe away at the bits of dried blood caking his skin to reveal the raw, red gash, the angry, raised flesh around it. You lean forward, blowing slightly as you daub at the wound, making your way down his bicep till the entire cut’s been coated in iodine.

“There. All done.”

You lean back to toss the cloth into the sink but Zoro stops you. He catches your wrist in his good hand and with a slight tug, has you toppling forward towards his chest.

“Turn around.”

His voice is soft, but firm. And it leaves no room for protests as you stare at him for a long moment before sighing and resigning yourself to your fate. You turn to show him your back.

A disgruntled huff is all you get before you hear the distinct sounds of Zoro rummaging around the first aide kit for a fresh piece of cloth, and the pop of the iodine bottle opening again.

“Who did this?” he asks as he slowly reaches out to tug a thin spike from your skin, small as a needle and just as sharp. You bite back a wince.

“The porcupine guy…” your voice trails off as Zoro grunts.

“Right.”

He tugs out another spike; it tinks against the metal of the sink as he tosses it away. A brief sting, and then the cooling feeling of the iodine cloth.

After a few minutes of working in silence, Zoro sighs.

“Geez, he really got you bad, didn’t he?”

“Not really,” you say, and you feel Zoro’s hands pause.

“No?”

You shake your head, “I’ve… been through much worse… and lived to tell the tale so…”

Zoro doesn’t need to ask to know that you’re talking about your past on the island, inside that windowless compound. He can see it in the scars that mar nearly the entirety of your back, the criss-cross lines of what looks like knife-wounds, the occasional puckered marks that look suspiciously like burns. He steels himself then, and continues to work — plucking out a spike and cleaning out the wound.

“You were right,” he says, when he finally finishes cleaning up your back and you both straighten to face each other. He wipes his hands clean and winces slightly as he flexes his newly bandaged arm.

“Right about what?” your voice is innocent, but the flash in your eyes tells him that you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“That first day — I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t… make sure that no one ever hurt you again.”

His fingers curl into fists at his sides and you can see the muscle ticking in his jaw as he clenches his teeth.

You reach out, tracing a thumb along his jawline. When you pull back, there’s a small daub of blood on your finger and you wipe it away without breaking his gaze.

“No, you couldn’t but… you tried.”

Zoro scoffs, “Tryin’s not good enough.”

“No,” you jerk up to glare at him, your voice harsh in a way that he’s only ever heard right after they’d rescued you, the edges of your words raw and ragged as a serrated blade, “trying is everything.”

interlude: truth or dare

It gets better after that, and you grow and bloom and grow some more. Zoro does too, though in his own way — he gets stronger, gets faster, hits harder. And though you two never quite agree on anything, he is always by your side, and you’re somehow always by his.

“’M not even a lil drunk —”

“Liar~” you singsong, giggling as Zoro shakes his head, tipping the remains of a bottle of sake back down his throat before wiping at his lips with the back of his hand.

“Mm… ‘s that all I am to you? Just another guy who lies?” Zoro swings lazily on the hammock hung on the main deck, his eyes half-lidded and alight with the dancing firelight.

“Stupid question — drink,” you answer, bringing our own bottle up to your lips.

Zoro laughs, quiet and pleased as he reaches for a new bottle.

“Alright then — truth or dare?” he asks, uncorking the new bottle and reaching out to offer you some. You bat him away, your movements languid and heavy, your back pressed against a heavy wooden barrel, one leg propped up to support your arm, the other stretched out long and lithe in front of you.

“Truth,” you say, your voice easy, your smile even more so.

“Alright then — do you trust me?” Zoro’s voice dips, and your eyes flash up. There’s a sobering light somewhere behind the alcohol soaked haze clouding his gaze and you can tell by the steadiness of his hands that he’s not nearly as drunk as he might seem.

“What do you mean?” you ask, casually evading the question.

Zoro tuts, “’S not an answer.”

“I’m asking for a clarification.”

Zoro shakes his head, taking another soft swig, “Simple question — do you trust me?”

You purse your lips, mulling over the myriad answers you could provide and make it sound like the truth. But that’s not really how the game goes. So instead, you take a deep breath.

“I — I want to,” and it’s the way your voice breaks that makes it honest, the way you can’t hold the truth in by the seams of your careful cadence, no matter how hard you try to smooth out the ragged edges.

“So… that’s a no,” Zoro says, keeping his tone even. You can’t help reaching for him — imploring.

“Not yet but —”

“Why?”

“Why… what?”

“I guess…” Zoro leans back, casting his eyes up at the wild, dark sky, careening above the ship in an ecstatic spread of stars and, long sinuous, moon-silvered clouds, “why d’you want to trust me? Doesn’t seem like something you’d be eager to do after… y’know, everything.”

You lick your lips and stare into the empty bottom of your glass.

“Honestly?” you say, “because you’re kind of a shit liar —”

Zoro lets out a soft, rumbling laugh, but doesn’t deny it.

“But… also because you’re the only person I’ve met who… who treats words so carefully — I mean…” you swallow, leaning forward slightly as Zoro drops his gaze back down to you, “it’s like — my whole life has just been people saying things they don’t really mean, and never meaning what they say, and then trying to figure out what’s really happening — trying to say the right thing, not the thing you mean but the thing you think they’d want to hear —” your breath quickens, “and — and if you don’t or if you’re bad at it, then bad things happen to you and the people you care about —”

“Hey.”

A hand presses down on your shoulder and you gasp, your breath knifing through your chest as you clasp your shaking hands to your sternum.

“Breathe. You’re okay.”

You nod, unable to say anything as Zoro sits in front of you, his hand like an anchor in a summer storm, keeping you tethered.

You breathe and take stock of your limbs — feet, legs, hands, arms. It’s then that you realize Zoro’s crouching in front of you, your drink glass resting by his side.

“Thanks,” you say, nodding as he gives your shoulder a slight squeeze before pulling away. Physical touch has never been one of your strong points, and it seems Zoro’s learned that without you ever having to tell him.

It’s strange — the sudden knowledge that somehow, his understanding of you has been wordless and implicit. Complete, from nearly the day the Straw Hats had picked you up on that island. You’d never had to explain, never had to draw your boundaries.

And yet somehow, he knew. As if he’d always just known.

“Truth or dare?” you ask him, your voice barely a whisper, shifting to make more space for him on the dark deck of the ship’s forecastle. Zoro sits down in front of you, crossing his legs.

“Dare.”

You don’t fight the grin as it lifts the side of your lips.

The quiet pulses between the pair of you like a heartbeat.

“Tell me a secret.”

“Gotta be more specific,” Zoro’s grin lilts to mirror your own.

“Any secret,” you say, “something you… something you wouldn’t otherwise say out loud.”

“Isn’t that what a secret’s supposed to be? Something you don’t say?”

You laugh, tasting the sound like a mouthful of champagne, bubbling up through you and spiraling towards the endless summer’s night.

“Quit stalling!”

“Think I wanna kiss you.”

A gasp slices through the air between you. You feel the weight of it in your throat, the white-hot flicker of his gaze as he glances down at your lips. You wet them without thinking, and as Zoro lean’s in, you can sense the night around you slowly coalescing into something warm, something solid. Like a marble clutched in a child’s palm, or a pearl held on an oyster’s velvet tongue.

“Truth or dare?” he asks.

He stops just short of your lips, his nose almost grazing yours. You can nearly taste the sweet sake on his breath —

“Dare.”

“Close your eyes.”

Your lashes flutter and for a second, an eternity revolves in the space between your heartbeats. Faintly, you register the gentle rocking of the ship as an indolent wave catches her starboard side.

You close your eyes.

For a second, there is space. For a second, there is breath. For a second, there is gravity. And then — all of that disappears. All of it eclipsed by the kiss. And then, the kiss is all there is.

All there was, and ever will be.

There’s a graze of fingers against skin, the bump of legs against legs against thighs against knees — there’s knuckles and noses and hair falling, hair being tugged into closing fists. There’s the clink-clink-clink of earrings, and the clatter-clap-clat of swords and hilts and rough, wooden planks.

There’s the dull thunk and baseline rumble of a glass being knocked over and rolling away.

But all of that is afterthought. All of that is supplement, a postscript, marginalia and footnotes.

Because there, then — there is only the kiss, and nothing but the kiss: a catastrophe of inevitability, smooth as a secret, and whisper-sweet.

When the pair of you pull away, there’s a chaos of wings against your ribcage.

There’s the honeyed, lambent light in Zoro’s eyes as he grins down at you.

“Truth — or dare,” a breathless gasp punctuates your words.

Zoro’s grin only grows as he tips your chin back between his thumb and forefinger.

“Dare.”

It’s only then that you realize his cheeks are wine-flushed, his chest rising and falling nearly as fast as yours. You swallow slow and track his eyes as he watches the pale bob of your throat.

“Kiss me again.”

act iii: fool’s gold

It takes all of three hours for Sanji to get something out of Zoro, and three days before Robin and Nami manage to wheedle something out of you.

“No seriously! Things have been different since that one party we had —” Nami presses her palm to the kitchen table, here eyes wide. Robin sits on the couch, her expression one of mixed amusement and near academic interest.

“Different how?” you reach into the cookie jar and fish out a crumbled corner of what used to be a double chocolate chip cookie.

“Ugh! You know what I mean!” Nami turns to Robin, motioning towards you, “Help me here!”

Robin laughs, tossing up a graceful hand, “I suppose something does seem… changed.”

“Something?” you ask, licking at a smudge of chocolate on your thumb.

“Well…” Robin says, drawing out the syllable and making to examine the nails on her long, thin fingers, “it’s definitely not nothing.”

You allow yourself a smile, “Something’s definitely not nothing.”

Nami lets out a frustrated groan, but she’s smiling too.

It’s been long enough that you’d learned to relax around them, and you’d since also learned that nothing is so sacred as the sanctity of sisterhood. That bonds between friends might be forged in fire and brimstone, but bonds between women are forged in cinder and smoke — in the wreckage of after, when the fighting’s been done and all that’s left is the mending.

“What’s all this giggling about?” Zoro ducks into the half-ajar door, staring at the three of you.

Nami cocks an eyebrow; Robin shrugs.

You, for your part, smile and bat your lashes.

“Oh nothing,” you say.

“Just girl-talk,” offers Nami.

“Nothing to interest a legendary swordsman like yourself,” Robin polishes off.

Zoro’s eyes narrow, his gaze jumping between the three of you before it lands on you and he scoffs.

“Yeah, whatever. We’re docking soon.”

And that’s all he offers before sauntering back out of the room, leaving the door swinging behind him, but not before you catch sight of the redness at the tips of his ears as he hurries away.

You give it a beat of three seconds before pushing to your feet and following after, humming to yourself. Behind you, Nami and Robin share a knowing look.

“Definitely not nothing,” Robin says as she stands to follow you.

The island, if it can even be called that, is nothing more than a rough conglomeration of steep cliffs strapped together by a thin band of land barely wide enough to be categorized as a beach.

“Well! This is something!” Luffy declares, his arms akimbo on his hips as he stares at the island.

“Yeah… it’s uh… something for sure,” Usopp agrees, making a face as he squints at the cluster of rocks that look more like the jagged edges of a broken bottle than any kind of proper land formation.

“We’ll just anchor here for the night… get some good rest, and then...” Sanji’s words trail off, interrupted by a ghostly wail that rises from the gathering of dark cliffs, turning them into an echo chamber until it seems to rumble through the sand beneath them.

“… gold, all gold! — no, not a liar — please!”

A shiver etches itself up your spine and instinctively, you wrap your arms around yourself.

Zoro steps out in front of you, as if to shield you from whatever might come. His thumb presses against the hilt of his swords, his shoulders tense as corded wire.

“Uh… everyone else heard that too, right?” Chopper asks, peaking out from around Robin’s legs.

“Yep. Definitely not just you,” Sanji confirms.

Luffy grins, “Seems like there’s someone else on this island! Maybe they can show us around!”

Time passes by strangely on the island — one minute, the sun is still hanging low on the far horizon, and the next, the sky is the color of a bullet wound, darkness seeping in around the horizon.

“Whoever’s here on the island — they sure aren’t making it — easy —” Sanji grunts as he hoists himself up a slippery piece of rock face, sweat glistening on his forehead as he squints into the looming blackness.

“Luffy? You sure you know where we’re going?” Nami shouts, her voice ringing back in a way that makes everyone wince and cover their ears.

Zoro grabs your elbow a second before you slip, fingers digging into your flesh even as you steady yourself against him.

“Sorry — thanks,” you say, unsure of which one you really mean.

“Yeah! I can smell something — like a campfire! And… cooking!” Luffy’s voice calls back from somewhere in the gathering dark. Everyone shares a glance before bracing themselves and trudging on.

By the time you all catch up to Luffy, no one is certain of what time it is, only that it’s dark. But the kind of darkness that seems to cling to the skin — a darkness so dense it starts to take on shape and weight.

It presses in around you and you feel your breaths shortening in your chest.

Beside you, Zoro reaches out to brace a hand at the small of your back.

“Oh! I see a light ahead! C’mon!” Luffy’s voice rings out from somewhere up ahead, followed by the patter of sandals on stone. The rest of you follow, and then all too suddenly, light flickers to life in what seems to be a huge, subterranean cave deep within the cliffs of the island. It casts stark shadows against the slick, cavernous walls.

You frown, goosebumps rising along your arms and legs.

But before you have time to dwell on the wrongness of something there, Luffy’s voice snags your attention like a thread on an errant splinter.

“Hi! Oh, wow — that looks delicious!”

You turn a corner to find Luffy hunkering down over a blazing campfire and the silhouette of someone sitting opposite him, a sharp spike held out in front of them, turning slowly over the flickering flames.

“Oh… please… come join me — sit and listen to a story — I have so many stories — so many adventures to share!” the figure across the fire seems to quiver with the dancing flames, his voice filling up the whole of the cave, loud and boisterous and eager. But strange and hollow too.

You frown, chewing on the insides of your cheeks.

Ahead of you, Usopp and Chopper both take tentative seats next to Luffy, who had cheerfully plopped down next to the fire.

“Wow, this looks great! Are you here by yourself? I’m here with my crew! Are you a pirate too?” Luffy asks, his endless enthusiasm pouring from him like a spring.

Robin, Nami, and Sanji all hold back, but you take a step forward, and then another. Something compelling you towards the voice, pulling you closer. There’s a desperation, a loneliness with which you’re all too familiar — you inch closer, and then closer, till you’re almost level with Luffy, and you lower yourself to the ground next to him, Zoro dropping down beside you, his knee pressing against your leg in a silent reassurance.

“Come… come closer! It’s a good story — I promise!”

“Truth,” you mutter, just beneath your breath. Beside you, Zoro lets out a puff of breath, though his stance doesn’t loosen.

Behind you, you can hear the distinct sounds of the rest of the crew drawing just a step closer.

“Once upon a time… there was a city on an island where everything, and I mean everything was made of gold!”

The figure across the fire sounds cheered, elated even. Behind you, you feel Nami take half a step closer. Cold seeps into your veins despite the warm, dancing flames, and your fingers dig into the hard packed earth beneath you.

“I found it — I did! With my crew — the best sailors and seamen around! But the king… he was greedy! And he wanted his own men to take the treasures, so he forced me to lead them to the city again —”

“Truth,” you say again, but something in the tone of the figure’s voice makes you frown.

“Except… the city had gone… and there was nothing left… nothing but lies!”

You shudder back, swallowing hard. All around you, the darkness presses in with long, thin tendrils like so many loving fingers. The fire flares up, casting sparks up towards the cave’s ceiling, where stalagmites hang like broken teeth in a petrified monster’s maw.

“Oh… don’t be scared… come back — I won’t hurt you —”

“Liar!” you spit, the word scraping its way out of your throat.

Zoro leaps to his feet just as Luffy does the same. The fire flares again, a second before snuffing itself out, but in that second, you finally catch sight of the figure, hooded in shadow, sitting across from you — it has the shape of a man, tall and broad, but the limbs of a spindle-legged monster. It wears the darkness like a cloak, with beady, red eyes and a too-wide mouth.

“Don’t! Call me a liar! That’s what they called me — that’s what they called when they killed me! KILLED ME FOR TELLING THE TRUTH!”

You scramble back, Zoro nearly lifting you off the ground in his haste to pull you away. Luffy whips back his arm and swings it forward but all it catches is tendrils of shadow.

“Hey! That’s not nice!” he shakes off his fist, frowning as he stares at the bits of wriggling darkness still clinging to his skin.

“Run!” you shout as everyone bolts for the lightless path you all took to get to the heart of the cave.

“NOT A LIAR! NOT A LIAR! I FOUND IT! THE CITY! BELIEVE ME! BELIEVE ME!”

You clap your hands around your ears and race for what you hope is the exit. Behind you, you can hear the distinct sounds of Zoro’s blades whistling through the air*.*

“Damnit! How’dyou fight a shadow? There’s nothin’ to hit!”

“Quit tryna hit it and just run!” Sanji’s voice answers a second before he breezes passed you.

“Why don’t you believe me? Why?!”

“We — I believe you!” you shout, your chest a thundering mess of footfalls and scrambling bodies, and against all instinct, you turn around to face the darkness again, cupping your hands around your mouth, “I believe you! I know — I know you’re telling the truth!”

“What’re you doing?” Zoro asks, leveling himself by your side, his arm pressing against yours. Behind you, the thinnest sliver of light is creeping into the cave from what you assume is the entrance.

Morning. Has it really been that long?

Time is the greatest liar, you remember, suddenly, violently, the thought tearing through you like teeth.

“I — he’s telling the truth,” you say through gritted teeth, even as you take a few steps back. Inside the cave, the figure seems to shrink back from the encroaching light.

“What truth?” Zoro asks, his blade held aloft, his stance wide and ready.

“All of it,” you say, forcing your voice to be gentle, turning your face back towards the darkness, “I know, I can hear it — I know you’re telling the truth — about the island, the city — all of it!”

“Yes… all I wanted was to get back to the city… but… no one believe me… and I died… I died for it!”

“I know, and I’m sorry… no one should be punished for telling the truth —” your voice cracks.

“I tried!”

“I know…” you say as the figure shrinks and shrinks and shrinks and the light behind you grows and grows and grows, until you can feel the warm seeping into the skin of your back.

“And trying is everything,” you say, biting your lip as Zoro wraps an arm around your waist.

“Come with me… I’ll take you to the city — we can go together!”

You shake your head, heat prickling at your eyes as you turn away from the darkness of the cave and towards the light of the oncoming day.

“Liar…” the word falls from you like a rock, or a tear, cast off the cliff that greets you and Zoro as you both stare over the edge. The rest of the crew is nowhere to be found, but Zoro’s arm is still around your waist, and you can feel his warm breath by your cheek.

“Hey — do you trust me?”

You look up; in the dawning, morning light, Zoro, with his sun-kissed skin and dark moss hair appears to be limned in gold.

And maybe it’s the air, or the sea, or simply the angry pieces of this jagged, left-behind island of shadows like broken teeth trying to tear apart the sky, conducting his voice into a cacophony of echoes that sing and scream through the crags and eves of the valley beneath — but the whole island seems to reverberate with the question —

Do you trust me?

You close your eyes and breath. When you open them again, your heartbeat is steady. And when you speak, the rising sun streaks the tips of the saw-toothed peaks in strokes of molten gold. The valleys beneath you conduct your answer into an entire single-syllabled symphony —

Yes.

You feel his arm tighten around your waist, the wind as it tangles soft fingers in your hair. All around you, everything is light, and light, and light.

“Jump!”

You close your eyes, and jump.

-----

footnotes/appendix

uso-uso no mi translates to "lie-lie fruit"; i made it up bc it would be too op to have in the actual animanga i think

the "acts" refer to a classical 3-act structure that most movies/plays/scripts are written in: setup, confrontation, and resolution... with a smattering of other things sprinkled in for ~vibes~

in much of classical japanese and chinese mythology, foxes are associated with trickers and lies, often turning into beautiful women to deceive men, luring them into forests and mountains before taking their lives

the "figure" in the last scene is... can you guess? noland! kudos to anyone who figured it out as they were reading *\ (>o<) /*

did i absolutely take the "do you trust me" line from disney's aladdin??? HELL YEAH i did !!!! tru trust is my kink u__u

177 notes · View notes

platrom · 2 months

Text

Infinity.

CHAPTER 1.

JJK x READER

SUMMARY: In every universe, Ryomen Sukuna will find you, whether it is by chance or not. But only time can tell if you awake to discover your doomed fate.

WARNINGS: sad tones, mentions of hard labor, the concubines are rude and abusive, mentions of mold, aguri is very playful, sukuna has a bride, reader gets beat up and belittled, reader is too aware but not too knowledgeable on their world, some heavy hints to Sukuna’s ultimate control over his people

MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

TAGLIST (slashed means could not be tagged): @xhoneymoonx134 @ofcqdesi

—taglist is open! if you would like to be added, please comment. :)

i. endless

The work gets easier the longer you do it. The constant bending of your knees, elbows, and back becomes almost natural the longer you spend dragging rotten mattresses, tossing dirty sheets, and folding those dreadful covers.

You’ve also learned that harsh, morbid environments like the living quarters of your fellow maids bring disgusting conditions to the rooms.

A certain type of fungi has begun to creep into the corners of the rooms and under the beds. You’ve found the darkness serves as an outstanding breeding ground for this fuzzy, green bacteria with speckles of white that act as pores.

The sight makes you sick to your stomach.

But a part of you wonders if the living quarters above for the men who kill the spirits and the king’s favored subordinates are bright with life. Maybe life grows there— maybe bonsais and cherry blossoms litter the windowstills and butterflies flutter inside and outside their rooms. Maybe creatures like rabbits and foxes settle inside when the sun is too warm, and the subordinates of Lord Sukuna get to relish in their presence.

“(Name)!” You turn your head, grasping the ends of the gray sheets and bunching them as you rise.

A beaming Aguri pops her head into the frame of the doorway. The end of her headband is falling from her hair, letting strands loose to rest against her cheeks. The ratty accessory was meant to be a pure, pristine white, but with years of cleaning soot and dust, it has become a murky grey, nearly a dirty black.

“Shouldn’t you be cleaning the kitchen? The cooks are out on their break,” you rub your cheek with the collar of your uniform. “Uraume won’t be pleased if she sees you here.”

“Uraume is never pleased no matter what I do,” she moves towards you, lunging at you when you begin to move up to meet her. Together, you both tumble into the pile of dirty bedsheets and pillows covers that decorate the floor. She giggles as you groan in pain. “As long as my duties get done on time, there shouldn’t be an issue.”

The back of your head throbs against the itchy material of threaded cloth. “If you say so, Aguri.”

She grins, smushing her head into the crook of neck. She inhales deeply, before releasing a slow breath.

“Are you smelling me?” you grab her shoulder, tugging at her sleeve in an attempt to remove her from your side. “What are you, a dog?”

Aguri makes no movement, but merely holds on tighter. When she speaks, her voice is quieter. “What if I was a hound? Like one of Lord Sukuna’s.”

“Why would you ever want that?” you frown. The absurd statement is not anything new from Aguri, but it is the tone she holds that sets you aback.

She doesn’t get quiet or melancholic often. Even when she spoke about the grimmer things in her life or her past, she didn’t dim as much as now.

“Maybe, I would be treated better,” she sighs. “You know, they always need those dogs. The blood-hunting ones that they send out to attack traitors or find enemies. And they feed them well— the chefs give them some of the nicest meat I’ve seen… but that stake isn’t very high.”

You understand. Meat is a rarity to the poor, but a normalcy to the rich. The wealthy gorge on the finest slices of beef, chicken, pork, and any fatty animal they can find.

The poor cannot eat anything but crumbs. Bread, if they can make it. Cheese if they can get a goat or trade for it. And for most, scraps of berries or bits of rotten vegetables tossed out serve as their only food source.

There are people outside who run into estate’s dumping grounds daily. You’ve watched as they fished out slivers of carrot peels or orange centers and devoured as much as they could.

They would be killed if they were caught. They would be humiliated by all the kingdom and even the town, despite how poor they are as well.

You’ve see the bodies, sometimes. In the kitchen with the staff, with Uraume holding the knife, cutting the limbs. The chefs look green with disgust at the sight of a body being torn, boiled, and seasoned. It’s a blessing that Lord Sukuna has designated Uraume to be his main chef when it comes to humans.

You’re not sure anyone truly human could handle it. But you know for a fact, Uraume is not. And neither is Lord Sukuna.

But you’re not sure what they are, either.

“It must be nice to be cared for,” you murmur, your hands threading into Aguri’s hair. “To be well fed, groomed, and treated like royalty. Their bedding must be nicer as ours. Made out of pure cotton and sewn with the finest of threads. Pure white, like the sheeps and bunnies in our dreams.”

Your fingers tug against tangles, curves, and bumps. It’s a comforting motion for you, and her. To feel the gentleness of another person, instead of the harsh treatment you both are constantly subjected to.

The hard labor, yelling, and constant threat of death. It’s overwhelming and drowning. It’s dispiriting and crushing. Most here die at their 20s. The average life expectancy is one’s early 40s.

It’s the stress that kills them the fastest. And the slaughtering of them in the masses, as well.

Aguri whines, kneeing you in the side. “Why did you stop? I was getting comfortable!”

You squeeze your eyes shut, before a pained smile grows on your face.

You wish she would never have to worry about her life. You wish you could protect Aguri with your life, and that would be enough.

“How about we sneak into the kitchen? I heard the head baker made some new pastries with a special strawberry cream.”

Aguri perks, staring at you with wide eyes. “Can we?”

You wink. “As long as we don’t get caught.”

In an instant, she tugs at your arm and pulls you up, sprinting out of the room.

Her laughter is all you need to match her pace.

I hope you stay like this forever, Aguri.

ii. bastion

Lord Sukuna marries Akazome Emon on the night of your birthday.

You have the pleasure of preparing for the ceremony. The tables, the food, and all the decorations are overseen by Uraume, while the maids of the estate fulfill the duty of beautifying the already breathtaking garden where the celebration will be held.

The wedding has no more than fifty guests. It’s small, for a king as powerful as him— but it’s fitting and understandable.

Lord Sukuna has enemies who drool at the chance to even brush shoulders with him. To be able to infiltrate his palace is a feat that no man or woman has ever achieved. All concubines are checked thoroughly and every servant goes through a lengthy process before they are admitted to work for the king.

But the news of his bride will spread quickly. The parchments will fly and the whispers of mothers will flood the ears of the neighboring kingdoms.

His Queen will become an immediate target as a way to crumble his spirit and overthrow his authority. Riots will begin in the streets, and wars will rebirth.

In a matter of hours, the world will be in chaos once Lord Sukuna marries his bride.

Though, a small voice in the back of your head believes that the king thrives in danger and destruction. It is the motto of the Sukuna estate.

You purse your lips, staring at the sheer sheets that line the wooden poles now cemented into the corners of the garden. Tree peonies line the ends of the box-like structure, while chrysanthemums are sparsely dispersed around the seats.

The gardeners are exceptional at their job, you crouch to inspect the flowers. Your eyes trace over the delicate ridges of the baby pink in the peonies, and the fluffs of white in their centers. They are beautiful, bright, and voluminous; fit for royalty.

The maids have gossiped about the bride’s bouquet after one of the florists had dropped the sketch of the design on the garden’s ground.

It appears that her bouquet will be filled with nippon daisies at the center and lavender rimming the daisies. It was an odd choice for a woman as exquisite as Akazome Emon to have such common flowers be the choice for her bouquet— especially for them to be the kinds of flowers the poorest of the kingdom eat.

You wonder if her choice of flowers mean something greater than just to look nice, but you’ll never know. The privilege of accessing books was never one you had.

It wasn’t like you could even read or write to begin with.

“Work faster, Uraume will be out soon! The ceremony must look spotless for our king,” the head maid is running around like a headless chicken, straightening creases and perfectly spacing the seats from each other. Maids back out of her way as she sways around, screaming orders at anyone who looks her way. The flock of you are sent scattering as guards begin to enter the grounds.

For such a wonderful day, the workers of the estate are tense and on edge.

“Did you hear that Lady Emon appointed Lord Sukuna’s other suitors as his concubines?” Two ladies veiled in crème colored robes brush past you as you adjust the deserts on the table. The material looks smooth and soft— like velvet. It’s a type of cloth you’ve heard Uraume describe to her seamstress about her robes. “For a future Queen, she is keen on throwing any woman she possibly can at the man who will bring her unlimited power.”

Along their necks lies an engraving of blood-red roses lined with heavy, black ink. When the ends of their robes rise, around their ankles rests a gold chain intertwined with bits of lavender.

They must be concubines.

The king was known to lavish his mistresses in the finest of jewels and clothes from raids against neighboring estates.

“What are you looking at?” a nauseatingly saccharine voice snaps. A blur of black and white drops into your view and you stumble backwards. “You stupid whore, who are you to look at me?”

Your mouth runs dry and your tongue becomes heavy. Instantly your head falls to the ground with your hands under your forehead and your eyes squeeze shut. “I’m sorry, my lady. Forgive me, please.”

She scoffs, before yanking at the shoulder of your uniform to bring your face up to hers. Strands of fine, black hair lay across the front of her face, the ends brushing against the white of her makeup. The pigment on her lips is a bright, vibrant red that contrasts the paleness of her face and the darkness of her hair.

She’s breathtakingly deadly.

She must be one of Sukuna’s favorites. Her aura is so fierce, but her features are somehow delicate and sharp.

Her nails dig into your arm and the corners of her lips slide down her face. The iris of her eyes are a deep brown, nearly blackened by the anger that spreads through her body. Her eyebrows are tightly knit, the perfect arch in her brows now flattened into a hard slope.

“You dirty, proletariat brat. You must wish this was the life you lived, huh? You must wish you were worthy of Lord Sukuna the way we are,” she spits as the the tips of her nails dig deeper into your skin. You have no doubt the moment she releases your arm, blood will gush from the indentations of her nails on your skin.

The other concubine steps forward. She’s just as stunning as the other, but her features differ vastly. Instead of a foxy look of slender features and slim eyes, her jaw is soft, her lips are round, and her eyes are wide like a doe’s.

“It’s astonishing that Uraume allowed the scum of the estate to even step outside of the dungeons today,” she frowns, bending down to invade your space. She scans your features, trailing over the dust that clings to the creases of your clothes and the swatch of white paint across the back of your hand.

You’re surprised as well that Uraume allowed you to participate in preparing the ceremony. Despite your promotion, you still worked in the lower parts of the castle, commonly referred to as “the dungeon.” Rats, cockroaches, and snakes are common sights in the halls, and fuzzy spores are found on every end of each room. The maids of your levels speculate that the ground level of the estate is littered with ceramic vases, gold plated portraits, crystalline walls, and the smells of roses and joy.

It’s been awhile since you’ve smelled anything but must and damp walls, hasn’t it?

You bow your head, shutting your eyes. This battle cannot be won— the concubines will win. The aristocracy always succeed, even if they are wrong. It’s an endless cycle engraved in the history of your people. Prosperity and wealth do not come to those born into poverty— it runs in the veins of those fortunate enough to have lived at a time where a man was willing to adopt a boy, or for those who have leeched themselves to the top.

The voice in the back of your head brings you to believe that these two are the latter of the group.

“Now, you want to show some respect?” the concubine tightens her grip around your arm before tossing you back to the ground. A glob of spit lands on your cheek as the other scoffs, kicking your chest. You curl into yourself, clutching your head noiselessly.

The faster this goes, the sooner I can go to finish my duties and head to bed.

You pray someone will step in and separate the two from you; you want nothing to do with these concubines. Their sight of their perfectly primped hair and glassy skin was only supposed to be a glance for your own entertainment, to relish in the joy of the world above you. It was meant to be a taste of a world you would never exist in— a distraction from the harshness of reality that existed inside the walls of the estate.

The sight of the swaying cherry blossoms, the freshness of the grass beneath your feet, and the gentle breeze in your hair were meant to be figments of your imagination that you could play in your head until your final days in the manor. The tulle that surrounded the wooden posts were meant to design the gown in your dreams, in a life where you would find a loving husband and spend the rest of your life with a lover who would destroy the world to merely bring it to your feet.

Now, you recognize that you stepped out of place. You thought too hard and believed too much in an unattainable fantasy. In no life were you destined to be happy.

In no universe did you belong with plates of fluffy, sugary cakes and tender meats and soft cheeses. Doughy breads coated with flour were never meant to be placed on your table for dinner.

Instead, you were meant to eat a bowl of leftover bone broth and a slice of stale brown bread. You would never live to pluck a berry off a bush, or lay in a bed of flowers in the cool evenings.

Those were impossible tales for girls like you. They were realities for women like them.

Please, make this punishment quick and easy. Let me go to my room and speak with Aguri until my mouth runs dry and my eyes close shut. Let me sleep ‘till my next day of cleaning and collect the ribbons and threads of color that Aguri loves.

Let me make it to my room tonight, please. That is all I ask for today and forever.

The last thing you hear before a blow is made to your head is a terrified scream, the crashing of glasses, and the sound of rushing footsteps.

#© platrom, plot / writing / banners & headers. do not repost, reblogs are appreciated! please consider leaving a comment and a heart! <3

294 notes · View notes

gremlingottoosilly · 9 months

Text

Lego still not sponsoring me (dark!Konig x fem!Reader)

Konig is a nerd who needs to get sprayed with water for being a fucking creep. You're an adorable cashier at the Lego Store in Berlin who doesn't know any better and is too nice to lose. He will have you. Mostly because he wants someone to do his Lego sets with.

Details count: 2922 AO3 TW and Tags: Dub-con/Non-con, age gap, size difference, kidnapping, awkward colonel Konig, nerd Konig, hurt/comfort, Konig's POV(mostly), awkward German, yandere Konig.

You didn’t want to build Millenium Falcon with him.

You didn’t want to shower or eat, you didn’t want to do anything besides crying, and even though your tears, as he expected, were beautiful and adorable, it was kinda hard for König to take care of your mental and physical needs while he was rock hard from watching you cry so sweetly.

König is patient, kind, and a model citizen through and through. Why are you upset? He is doing everything he can, just to make you smile! Seriously, Schatzi, the desire to make him as miserable as you possibly can doesn’t make you pretty or cute or even the least bit adorable. Good thing that he is used to feeling sad and kinda of bullied – you’re lucky he doesn’t even try to feel good anymore. Not in his destiny book to live a good life. — I brought food.

You groan lightly, whimpering somewhere in the corner of his basement. To your justification, his basement is a bit dirty. He forgot to visit the house for months after deployment, which was never enough to fill out the blanks of loneliness in the empty rooms. His dogshits methods of choosing decorations also made the mere existence in the house a hard mission even in itself. He looked at the anime posters in the guest rooms, which made him want to sell the property to anyone willing to pay 50 Euros for the processing fees. The posters(Sword Art Online because why the hell not, he likes cool swords and a power fantasy about a loser getting the chick) and artwork of his queen and savior, The Busty Blond Lady From Fate because, unlike those waifu-obsessed freaks, he did have a life and not enough time to actually remember her name. Something about light sabers. Or cats. — Are you going to kill me?

He sighs because you sound like a broken record. All the time – the questions about his intentions, like you can’t see the tent in his pants every time you open your eyes, about letting you go, about at least allowing you to text your family that you decided to change your country of residence and would need to revoke your German visa. You’re way more soft than he thought you’d initially be – no fighting, no arguing, just pure terror and desire to die every time his hands brush over you. König is a sweet guy, as sweet as someone like him can be – but he only has a few weeks until his next mission, and even a few days of your moping around is bound to make him not just blue-balled, but also very, extremely, offensively hot-headed.

He spent two days with you chained up in his basement and, he thinks, that should be enough for foreplay. He is extremely generous and kind – usually, at this point, he’d already start breaking the fingers of whoever poor fuck is his torture victim for the mission.

— I don’t want to kill you.

You whimper – somehow, his answer didn’t calm you down. Fucking women and their inability to talk to their kidnappers – he considers spiking your food just this once, so he could have a nice session with your little drunk self and some roofies but, of course, he is a nice guy who brought you takeout in a reheatable container, with a cute plastic fork and some sparkling water in a glass, just so you won’t feel like he is making you eat some garbage. It’s good food, too – he’d love to cook like this, but the heights of his skills are runny eggs and burnt coffee. He hopes you like the Italian because it’s the most inoffensive stuff he could have brought you without resorting to pizza and cup noodles. He will never let you eat cup noodles on his watch.

— Are you going to rape me?

He can’t exactly say no because, as a matter of fact, pulling your cute body under his is one of his intentions. He wanted to do it since he was you in this fucking store, but, of course. saying this to a pretty girl is lame. And completely counter-productive. And would make him a villain in your eyes, even though he tries so fucking hard to be a hero. He can make you feel good if you were to just open your pretty legs for him and moan under his tongue – god knows, he wants to make you feel good. He wonders what would it take for him to please you. If he could have a full-time job at this.

— Nein. Thought I told you already.

— I don’t…I shouldn’t believe you.

He shook his head, pushing the plate(he had to go out of his way to actually put the pasta from the tray to a proper plate, enjoy this, woman) towards you. You’re adorable like this – naked, trembling, a bit too weak to actually fight him over not eating anything for the past two days – you’re repeating the same conversation over and over again and König wouldn’t mind living in a groundhog day if the loop would end with his fucking you on that thin mattress each time.

Speaking of mattresses – he needs to get you a thicker one.

Speaking of thicker mattresses – he needs to relocate you into his bedroom as soon as possible.

Speaking of his bedroom – he is fucking bricked.

— If you don’t trust me, why do you ask?

You bite your lips. He can see you’re hungry and thirsty – he doesn’t want to forcefully feed you, so, yeah, you better be very hungry very soon. He pushes the plate towards you, hoping you won’t launch it on his head. He survived worse, a 6’4 British dude in a ski mask falling on him with the speed of Brexit, but getting hit by a plate when your angry girlfriend is being an angry girlfriend is…the best thing that could ever happen to him, actually. Gott, he is miserable.

— I…I don’t know. Don’t want to get killed.

— I won’t kill you.

— But you will hurt me.

— I don’t have to do that, Liebling.

No, he doesn’t.

But he sees the way your plushy thighs are squeezing into that tiny corner where your mat is, your squishy body getting all shaky and trembly, your lips in a tight line with tiny blood droplets from biting on them too much – and, by his fucking god, you’re beautiful. He wants to make you wet, to make you squirm, to make you beg and cry for mercy as he pounds into the sweetness of your cunt. He wants to try you on the inside and out, lick you all over from the inside, and then make you lick your love juices from his lips.

König knows he is hard and can’t really hide it – it’s useless now, really, he is being very nice and considerate to you. Changing your life is hard, especially with how quickly you moved to his place – like a good boyfriend, he should help you adjust. And aid you in recognizing that he is, in fact, your boyfriend and future husband. The perfect partner to ever exist. — What is it?

— Pasta. It’s…it’s good. Should be good. He is nervous, anxious. Seeing a pretty girl in her natural habitat – a Lego store – is one thing. He was barely able to talk to you properly, especially right after his deployment, where the only female attention he ever got was Roze asking to cover her or additional female soldiers groaning in pain as he stomped them. But you…he shouldn’t be colonel around you – absolutely not. You’re soft and civilian, you’re as polite as a girl in a basement could be, and you deserve to have something nice for once in your life. Licking his lips, König gently picks up a fork and presses a small amount of pasta – rich, creamy, with some nice cheese that smells divine - -against your lips.

You refuse.

A smart move, he could have poisoned it – so he thinks for a few seconds, staring at you like a smart girlie you are, and then – lifts his hood. If only barely, revealing his scarred chin and bruised lips. The initial swelling after getting his head bumped by a guy who was speaking like an edgy teenager in the Counter-Strike lobby was already gone by the time he managed to get you into his basement – but no amount of rest could hide all other marks from his job.

Despite being a seasoned mercenary with hundreds of killed targets and completed objectives, he feels…insecure. You’re a nice girl, a good girl, the type that used to look at him with hatred while he was bullied at school. Hatred or pity – but you only look at him with fear, and it cements his understanding that you’re not going to give in to loving him so easily.

König sighs deeply, his lips, curved into that awkward, boyish smile that creeps on his face every time he as much as thinks about you, now transforming into a scowl as you proceed to whimper and try to get lost in the wall behind you. Like he wouldn’t be able to track your scent if you would disappear. He slowly presses his fork towards his mouth, chewing on the food – showing you that it’s not poisoned.

He smiles again when he sees you slowly parting your lips, expecting him to feed you with less of a fuss. He’d propose something else – maybe even untying your hands and allowing you to actually for yourself, but something in your helpless state made his cock throb in his pants. God, König knows he isn’t his strongest soldier, but could he please make you less adorable? He doesn’t want to push you on your knees and make you suck on him until he whimpers, but the way you lick all of the cheese from your lips and try your best to look presentable in front of him… The process of feeding someone shouldn’t really be sexual, but König gently pushes the hair away from your face and lifts up the fork over and over, sometimes only changing to bring a glass of water to your lips. He can do this all day. Every day. Pleasing you already becomes second nature – and he spends most of his life thinking that the only thing he can take care of is his rifle and a few tortured enemies that need their teeth extracted. You require gentle handling – and he wants nothing more but to give you that. Just…a bit later. Preferably after the already came in your pussy at least two or three times and made you choke on his dick as a little thank-you gift.

You finish eating after a short while, thanking him for bringing you a napkin to clean your lips. König gently caresses your head, enjoying the sensation of your hair under his palm – it’s like petting a cat. A soft little pet just for him and no one else – if only he could actually bring you to like him. He has a few bond activities in mind, though. — You liked it, ja?

You lick your lips again, and his breath hitches. This is going to be hard, this is going to be impossible, it’s worse than having to work with high Krueger on a ship that made everyone feel like they were the ones doing crack in the backroom of their makeshift base.

— I…I did.

He pets your head again like you’re his pet – and you gently move your head to lean into his touch. Perhaps you’re dumber than he thinks. Or way smarter – a clever strategy to make him relax and nice to you without making him too suspicious. You slowly get back into your corner, but König wouldn’t have any of it – he drags you back by your arm, making you whimper and sob in his hold. It’s bad, he doesn’t want you to squirm from under him as much as you do, but…if you don’t want to be a good girl, he might as well force you to.

You cry as he pushes you deep into the corner, his hands roaming over your body. Thank god he ripped your clothes before you woke up – now there isn’t anything protecting you from his hands, not even that adorable bra he ripped in pieces because, as much as he loved wearing a uniform with straps and buttons everywhere, he could not figure out how to take this thing off you without breaking it. The last time he was sleeping with a woman, she wore a sports bra that could be taken off easily. It’s your fault that you decided to be more girly, really. Not his.

His hands cup your breasts roughly. Tugs and twists your nipples, a few shaky moans telling him exactly how sensitive you are – he might not have a girl in a hot minute, too busy with being the best freaking mercenary in the world, but even he knows how to take care of a pretty thing like you. Your tits fit in his hands perfectly, even more, reasons to believe you were just made for him. Not for some lame job at a Lego store counter – you should be waiting on your knees in his bedroom, with your mouth open wide and neat to fit his cock right in. With some sweet things lingering on your tongue as he bullies himself right in, getting what he deserves for protecting peace – and installing violence – while doing his job. He might not be the best freaking guy around, but he deserves something nice.

He pinches your nipples until they’re firm and swollen, every little cry escaping from your lips is only encouraging him to proceed. Licks on the open skin of your neck until his eneve stubble makes you whimper from how sensitive you are – it should be painful, he thinks, with how bloody the little bite marks from his teeth have become.

König marks you as thoroughly as possible, smiling each time you cry and beg for him to stop. You’re changing between bad German and good English, between loud cries and small whimpers, which he can’t determine from pleasure to pain. Not like he cares, too determined to make you cry his name – even though you probably don’t know it. All of his desires to claim you taking full power now, not listening to the way you plead with him. Whimper for him. Your skin is a clear canvas, allowing him to paint you with hickeys and marks, enjoying the little blood droplets covering your collarbones.

— Quiet, please. Don’t…don’t move, Schatzi. I don’t want to hurt you.

— Please, please, just…anything but… — Won’t take long. Promise.

— I don’t want to- — Quiet. I know you don’t, Liebling. Just…Scheisse, you…fuck.

— Stop! — Can’t. I apologize, Schatzen. Relax for me, ja?

He whispers, he whimpers, he is almost out of his mind when he can finally put his tongue on your swollen nipples. For some weird, depraved reason, he almost expects the milk to start flowing from your chest, allowing him to drink up as much as he wants. If he could get you pregnant, he might enjoy it for a few months – although having a kid on his hip isn’t as fun as it could have. He tried to babysit Hutch kids once when he brought them to base – and it was the worst fucking day of his life. Besides, little children can’t be around Legos – it's already a deal breaker for someone like him.

Speaking of legos…

You wiggle in his grasp, as good as you can with your hands still in the handcuffs – he should give you that one, at least you aren’t just laying lifelessly in front of him. At least you’re putting up a fight. At least he doesn’t feel too bad about restraining you without proper reasoning. You lick your lips again, that cute tongue of yours going over all the bite marks. You take a deep breath, shaking in his hold. God, he can just look in your face the whole day – barely knows how to handle himself around you. — I…I thought you wanted to…build this set with me? Smart girl. Way smarter than he gave you credit for – you know how to make him stop in his tracks and finally look at you differently. Maybe, you’re too good for him. Maybe, he doesn’t really care about that. Millennium Falcon, still sitting in the box – König hoped you’d start slowly putting it together but, seemingly, you need a bit of encouragement. The only thing that could tug him away from your breasts is the expensive set sitting just next to him.

Might start bonding with you as well. He tugs away from your nipples with a loud pop, an obnoxiously wet sound emerging as a thin line of saliva connects your breasts and his tongue. You whimper when he smiles, that scarred face of his twisting in a huge grin. Knows he’s not the most charming person around, but it’s not like you have any choice now – not with the limited options he gave you. Like a good girl, you’d probably pick doing Lego Sets with him than taking his cock in that tight pussy of yours. He’d be satisfied with any outcome. — J…ja. I’d like that. He has to give this one to you – you really know how to get a man going.

Bu building this insane set with him, that is.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #call of duty #yandere cod #cod x you #konig mw2 #konig x you #konig cod #lego

1K notes · View notes

jetii · 2 months

Note

the cross fic made me realize there's not enough tech angsty fanfics

how about a groveling tech trying to get femreader back like they were an item before order 66 tech broke things off, they reunite with the batch later but reader became a very sad person after all that time

an i lied because i thought you deserved better so i pushed you away situation ?

sorry if it's a long ask 😅 first timer here

I like your writing 💕

No worries! I love a detailed prompt.

Writing angst for Tech was harder than I thought it would be tbh. I think his direct communication style and self confidence make it especially difficult, so I took a slight detour here that I feel is more true to his character.

Piece by Piece

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader

Words: 5,630

Tags/Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, allusions to torture, PTSD

Summary: Pushing you away was the logical decision. It was the right choice. But Tech never expected it to hurt so much, nor did he expect to reunite with you months after the rise of the Empire, broken and haunted by your time spent in Imperial custody. Now, he's determined to make things right.

Being in the same room as you is exceedingly difficult in a way Tech didn’t expect.

It’s been weeks since you returned, appearing like a vision from the Force to them, alive, and he still can’t quite believe it. His hands shake slightly when you look at him, his mouth goes dry. He still wants to reach out to you, hold you tight and never let you go, and it is agony to resist, to stand by your side and not be able to touch you.

You were the one who asked for space, time to readjust to being around them again. And he has respected that, despite the desperate, possessive urge to pull you back, to keep you close so you never leave his side again.

It makes it hard to concentrate. Hard to be of any use at all, really.

Tech knows this isn't healthy, the way his mind and body and emotions are behaving, but he is finding it difficult to control. He has a lot of feelings that he isn’t sure what to do with, a lot of emotions that he doesn't understand. Tech isn't one for emotional outbursts, for being ruled by his heart and not his mind. He is rational, logical, always thinking of the most efficient solution to a problem, the most practical way of doing things.

It’s what lead him to break it off with you, after all. He couldn’t afford to have his head in the clouds when so much is on the line, couldn't afford to be distracted by thoughts of you when they could be used against him.

But then you were gone, and Tech was left alone with only the cold reality of his own decisions.

He thought he had made the right choice. Thought he had been logical and sensible, thought it would hurt you less in the long run, if he pulled away. But Tech doesn't feel very sensible now, and it doesn't seem very logical that the best way to protect you would be to push you away.

You have been hurt more than enough. And even if you don't want him in your life anymore, even if you want nothing to do with him, he will never forgive himself for not trying to help.

The fact is, Tech isn’t sure what you want, but he is determined to make amends, to help in any way that he can. It might hurt, might cause him to feel pain at the distance between you, but he is willing to accept that, to live with it if that is what you need.

What he isn’t willing to live with is seeing you unhappy. And you are unhappy.

Your eyes are dark, hollow. Your face is drawn and gaunt, cheeks too thin, and when he sees you, your shoulders are slumped as though under an impossible weight. You barely eat, you barely sleep. Tech watches as you push food around your plate and drink only water. He notices how you keep to yourself, avoid talking and laughing and joking like you used to, and he hates that you have changed so much, that the Empire has taken that joy from you.

And that, more than anything, is what hurts him the most. The Empire took your light, the thing that makes you, you. They ripped your spark away and left a shell behind, and he is struggling to reconcile that with the bright and lively woman he knew, the woman who had such a profound effect on him.

"On all of us," Echo points out one night, as the rest of them watch you sitting alone.

Echo has become increasingly vocal about his feelings, something Tech is glad for. It gives him a chance to understand better, to gain perspective, and Echo has been the one to notice what Tech can't admit, the thing he isn't willing to think about, the thing that hurts the most.

You're suffering, and you're pushing them away.

At first, it seemed reasonable. You were gone a long time, and they hadn’t seen you. It made sense that you needed space.

But time has passed, and you're still not yourself.

Tech thinks back to your first night, how you flinched away from his touch, and realises how foolish he has been. He sees now how much he was hurting you, how much damage his words and actions were causing, and his heart breaks a little more.

It was never about protecting you. Not really.

Tech wanted you. He wanted you for so long, and when he finally had you, he was terrified of losing you. So, he pulled away. He cut ties, and told himself it was for the best.

Except now he has no ties to cut, no bonds left to sever. You're here, but not, and his chest aches as he watches you.

This isn't the way it should be.

Tech should be holding you, and you should be smiling. He should be telling you how much he loves you, how happy he is to have you back. He should be making sure you're comfortable and safe, ensuring that you have everything you need, everything you deserve.

Instead, he stands in the corner of the room, watching silently as his brothers try to coax you into eating, or drinking, or just saying something. Omega is the only one who is successful, who manages to make you smile.

Tech can't understand it. He tries his hardest, he does his best, and you always turn away.

And the more he tries, the more he feels the ache inside him grow, the more his feelings change, twisting and turning and growing, and he can't keep track of what's happening to him. All he knows is that the idea of losing you is the worst thing he can imagine, and the idea of being without you is becoming unbearable.

He doesn't know how much more he can take.

You've been avoiding him.

No, not avoiding. You've been staying away.

Or maybe, you've been ignoring him.

“She's not talking to me,” Tech admits one evening.

He's curled up in the corner of the cockpit, legs pulled up, head buried in his arms. The rest of the Batch have dispersed, going off to their own bunks to rest or to tinker or to read. Tech is usually the last to retire, but not tonight.

Tonight, his shoulders are slumped and his goggles are pushed up onto his head. He's been scrubbing at his face with the heels of his palms for the past few minutes, trying to work through the thoughts and emotions swirling in his mind.

You're not talking to him.

And yes, maybe it's because you're not talking to any of them, but it still feels personal.

You're not talking, not laughing, not doing anything, really. You’re just there, a shadow of your former self, a ghost.

Tech misses the woman who used to laugh and tease him, the one who could always bring a smile to his face and a blush to his cheeks. The woman who was a whirlwind of color and life, the one who lit up his world and made him see things differently. Who kissed him so deeply and passionately that it felt like his entire world was reduced down to the feel of her lips. He misses her warmth, her kindness, the way she touched him, looked at him.

He misses the way he felt around her.

He misses you.

Tech doesn't know what to do. He can't stop thinking about you, can't stop thinking about what he's done, what he could have done.

What he should have done.

Maybe if he'd tried harder. Maybe if he hadn't given up, hadn't let go. Maybe if he had listened to Hunter, had heard Echo. Maybe if he'd told you the truth, he could have stopped this.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

He sighs, rubbing at his face. He feels miserable, and it's his own damn fault. He's the one who ended things, who pushed you away. And he can't blame you for that, not when it was him who decided that you weren't worth it.

That isn't to say that he didn't care. Of course, he cared. He cares now. So much it hurts.

You are the person he was in love with, the only one. But it didn't seem fair to ask you to share his life, his world, when he couldn't promise that it would always be safe, that it would always be stable. He couldn't give you a future, couldn't provide for you the way a proper partner should, the way you deserve.

He could give you the present, but he couldn't offer you anything else.

And yet, as Tech sits here, head in his hands, he can't help but think that he should have at least tried. If he'd told you how he felt, maybe things would have turned out differently.

“I only ever wanted you,” you had told him once, and Tech can't believe how stupid he was to let you slip through his fingers.

Tech isn't used to feeling helpless. He's used to knowing exactly what he's doing, to being in control. But when it comes to you, it's as if he's floundering. He doesn't know what to do, doesn't know how to act, doesn't know what you want.

He’s tried everything, he's done everything he can, and still, you push him away.

You don't want his comfort. You don't want his love.

He doesn't understand it. You've always seemed happy around him, like his presence brings you some peace. But now, whenever he gets close, you move away. When he tries to talk, you turn your back. When he offers help, you shut him down.

Tech isn't sure why you won't accept his assistance, or why you won't talk to him. It doesn't make sense.

He can't understand, can't rationalize. And he's never felt so lost.

Tech groans, burying his face in his arms. He's being ridiculous, he knows, but he can't help the way he feels.

He misses you.

Tech misses the way your hand fits perfectly in his. He misses the smell of your hair, the softness of your skin, the sweetness of your lips. He misses the way your smile makes him feel like his heart is full, like he can take on the world, like he can conquer anything.

Tech misses the way your body feels against his. The way your fingers feel on his skin. The way your breath catches when he touches you, the way your heartbeat picks up, the way your pupils dilate.

Tech misses the way you made him feel alive.

Tech knows that he isn't worthy of your affection. He knows that he doesn't deserve your love. He's not a good man, not a good partner, not a good friend. He's not the kind of person who should have someone like you, and yet, somehow, you chose him.

But not anymore.

“I only ever wanted you.”

You said those words to him before, and they haunt him. You told him you didn't care about the risks, the dangers, the fact that he couldn't give you the future you deserve. All you cared about was him.

And he threw it away.

Tech isn't sure how long he sits there, wallowing in his misery. He doesn't move, doesn't speak. He just sits, and broods.

“Maybe she just needs time,” Echo says, though his voice sounds doubtful.

Tech shakes his head before pressing the heel of his palm into his forehead.

“She has made it clear that she doesn't wish to speak to me, or see me, or have anything to do with me."

The words sting as he speaks them. His throat is tight, and he swallows hard, trying to hold back the emotion.

"I doubt a little more time will change her mind."

There's a long silence.

Echo leans against the wall beside Tech, his arms folded. He's watching Tech carefully, his gaze piercing. Tech feels uncomfortable, and shifts, ducking his head. He doesn't like being scrutinized, doesn't like being vulnerable. He prefers to keep his emotions in check, his feelings close to his chest.

But he's finding it hard to hide them now, and his pain is obvious, even to himself.

“But she does,” Echo says finally.

Tech glances up, frowning. "Elaborate."

"She does want you," Echo clarifies, his voice gentle. "She loves you. She wouldn't have come back if she didn't.”

Tech doesn't want to admit it, but Echo has a point. If you didn't want anything to do with him, then you wouldn't have bothered to find him. You would have left, disappeared again, and never come back.

You wouldn't have risked your life for him.

Tech isn't sure if that makes him feel better, or worse.

Because it means that you do care, but it also means that you might be willing to sacrifice yourself, and Tech can't have that. He can't let you throw away your life, not for him.

Tech groans, burying his face in his hands. He's being selfish, and he knows it. You're the one who was captured, the one who suffered, the one who nearly died. And yet, all he can think about is how much it hurts.

He's been thinking about how much it hurts him. He hasn't been thinking about what you need.

"What should I do?" Tech asks, his voice small and defeated.

"Apologize," Echo replies simply.

"I have tried," Tech protests, lifting his head. "I have apologized countless times, and she does not want to listen. She doesn't want to speak to me."

"No," Echo corrects. "You've apologized for the wrong things."

"Wrong things?" Tech echoes, frowning.

"Yes, the wrong things," Echo repeats.

Tech isn't sure what Echo means by that, but his brother looks confident, sure of himself. Tech wants to believe him, but he doesn't know how. He's spent so long trying to convince himself that he did the right thing, that he did the only thing, that he can't help but doubt.

"How do I fix it?" he asks, voice quiet.

"That, I can't tell you," Echo replies. "But Tech, the first step is admitting that you were wrong."

Tech nods, letting his shoulders sag. He doesn't feel particularly good about the situation, but he's willing to try. It's not easy, admitting he was wrong. He's so used to being right, to having the answer, to knowing what's best. But when it comes to you, he has never felt so lost.

Tech thinks of the pain in your eyes, the way you flinched from him, the way you turned away.

He has to do better. He has to be better.

He has to earn your forgiveness.

"I was wrong," Tech says, his voice steady and sure. "And I'm going to make it right."

You're standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by medical supplies and overturned cots. Your face is pale, eyes wide and fearful, and Tech isn't sure what to do.

The voice of his brothers and Omega inside his head tell him you need space, but they also remind him that you need someone to look after you. That you need help. That you can't be alone.

Tech hesitates. He isn't used to this, the uncertainty, the not knowing what's best. He's never been particularly good at reading people, and even worse at knowing what they need.

He has never been more unsure than he is now.

He wants to help. He wants to take care of you, to make you feel safe, to give you what you need. But he's terrified of getting it wrong. Especially when you're standing in front of him looking like a startled animal.

You're shaking, and your breathing is fast and shallow. Your eyes are darting around the room, as if searching for something. Tech isn't sure what it is, or if it even exists. You look terrified, and Tech knows you have reason to be. The last time you were in a place like this, the Empire was holding you captive, and he can't blame you for feeling uncomfortable.

Tech has to suppress a shudder as he remembers the footage, the recordings they managed to get from the base. The screams, the cries. They haunted his dreams, and Tech can't even imagine what they did to you.

Tech wants nothing more than to run to you, to take you in his arms and promise that he will protect you. But he can't, not without permission.

Not when he isn't sure you'd even want him to.

So, instead, he stands there, watching. He keeps his distance, gives you the space you need. He's trying his best, but it isn't easy.

She just needs time, he tries to remind himself, but Tech isn't so sure.

He isn't sure if time is enough. He isn't sure if anything will ever be enough.

He watches as you stand there, your hands clenched into fists, your eyes still scanning the room. He watches as your breathing speeds up, your chest rising and falling rapidly. He watches as the panic spreads over your face, your lips pressed together, jaw tight.

You look scared, vulnerable, and Tech's heart breaks a little more.

“Cyare,” he calls out, as quiet and soothing as he can manage. You stiffen, and Tech curses himself for causing you discomfort.

He should have stayed quiet.

But then you turn, and your eyes meet his, and something inside him seems to settle.

You look so sad, so lost, and he can't help it. He walks over to you, careful and slow, making sure not to startle you. When he reaches you, he holds out his hand, palm up. He wants you to know that he is there for you, that he will not hurt you.

He will never hurt you again.

He waits, holding his breath. He's afraid that if he moves, if he speaks, you will run. So, he stands, motionless, watching as you stare at his hand.

Slowly, slowly, you reach out, your fingertips brushing his. The touch is gentle, tentative, and Tech is afraid to breathe.

Then, your hand closes around his, and he exhales.

Tech knows he's taking a risk, touching you, but he can't resist. He can't stand the thought of leaving you alone, the thought of not being able to help. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you. He doesn't know what else to do. He wants to hold you, to keep you safe.

He never wants to let you go.

You're shaking, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You're trembling, and Tech knows that this is a big step, that you're taking a chance. So, he holds you, and he waits.

Your body is tense, and Tech is worried that he's overstepped, that he's pushed you too far. But then, slowly, you relax. Your arms wrap around him, your head resting on his shoulder, and he can't help but sigh in relief.

The others are nearby, finishing a sweep of the facility. He should be helping, but he doesn't want to leave your side. Not when you're finally letting him be close to you.

So, he holds you, and he strokes your hair. He whispers quiet reassurances in your ear, tells you that everything will be alright, that he's got you, that you're safe.

He's not sure if you believe him, but he has to try.

He can't lose you again.

Tech is trying.

He's trying his best, but he feels like he's failing.

Every day, every hour, every minute, his mind is filled with thoughts of you.

He thinks about how you're doing, whether or not you're eating, sleeping. He thinks about the nightmares you have, the way your body shakes as you wake, pale and trembling, gasping for air.

He thinks about how his brothers can't seem to calm you, how only Omega is successful, her soft voice and gentle touch somehow bringing you some measure of peace.

Tech can't help but feel that it should be him. It should be him comforting you, not Omega. It should be him easing your pain, not his little sister.

It should be him.

He isn't sure why he can't seem to do anything right. After they left the facility, after you finally started letting him hold you, Tech thought things would get easier.

But they haven't.

You still seem so distant, so far away. You still refuse to eat, to sleep, to talk. And Tech isn't sure how much longer he can handle this.

He's frustrated. Frustrated at himself, at the Empire, at the galaxy. Most of all, he's frustrated at you. Not that he would ever admit it aloud.

You've been through a lot. More than anyone should have to go through. Tech understands that. But he can't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, if you'd been willing to accept his help earlier, things would have been different.

Tech doesn't mean it, not really. He doesn't think that it's your fault. He's just tired, and angry, and frustrated.

And, if he's being honest, he's a little jealous.

You trust Omega. You open up to her. But you won't even talk to him.

It hurts.

Tech has spent the past few weeks trying to make things right, to show you that he’s changed. But you seem unwilling to let him in, to let him help.

It's infuriating.

Tech knows he shouldn't feel this way, but he can't help it. You were his girlfriend, his partner, his lover. And now, you won't even look at him.

He's trying, but he feels like he's getting nowhere. He wants to help, wants to be there for you. But he can't do anything if you won't let him.

“I’m not sure if this is a good idea,” Omega says, her voice uncertain. Her feet swing over the edge of the bunk across from him, and her brow furrows. “Won’t she be mad?”

Tech sighs, running a hand over his face. He knows that Omega is worried, but he can't sit around any longer. He has to do something.

"She is already upset. I'm not sure anything else could make things worse."

Tech tries to sound convincing, but the truth is, he isn't sure what the consequences will be. He isn't sure what will happen, isn't sure if this is a good idea. But he has to try.

“If you’re sure,” Omega replies slowly.

Tech nods, trying his best to look confident.

"I'm sure."

He isn't.

"Okay."

Omega pulls out her datapad and types the message. Tech watches as she hits send, then lets out a shaky breath. She slides off the edge of the bunk and hurries down the ramp, leaving him alone.

Tech waits, his nerves growing with each passing second.

You are going to hate him for this, he's sure.

But he has to do it. He has to try.

"Tech?"

Your voice is quiet, uncertain. You're standing in the doorway, arms wrapped around yourself, and Tech feels his chest ache at the sight.

You're here.

You're actually here.

"Hello," he says quietly.

“Where’s Omega?” you ask, your voice sharp. You step forward, and the light catches your face. Tech can see the bags under your eyes, the paleness of your skin. You look tired, worn down, and he hates it.

Tech winces. "She's not here."

"Where is she?"

You sound panicked, and Tech doesn't blame you. The last thing he wants is to make you more stressed. But he needs to talk to you, and this is the only way.

"She is fine," Tech says, trying to sound reassuring. "I asked her to leave."

You narrow your eyes, taking another step toward him. You're still clutching your arms, as if you're trying to hold yourself together. Tech wants to reach out, to take your hands, but he knows you'll pull away.

“What do you want, Tech?” Your voice is harsh, but Tech doesn't mind. You're speaking to him, which is more than he's gotten out of you in days.

"I, ah, I wanted to talk," Tech replies, his tone hesitant.

"About what?"

Tech swallows, his throat suddenly dry. "About us."

You frown, folding your arms across your chest. "There is no 'us', Tech. There hasn't been for a long time. You made sure of that."

Your words are sharp, cutting, and Tech can't help but flinch. He deserves them, he knows. But it doesn't make the sting any less. He takes a deep breath, trying to find the words.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was wrong. I shouldn't have ended things."

You stare at him, eyes wide. Tech isn't sure if you're surprised, or just angry. He can't read you, not anymore. He isn't sure if he ever could. He's always felt a little bit of awe, a little bit of fear when it came to you. And now, more than ever, he feels completely lost.

"So why did you?" you ask, your voice tight.

Tech sighs, adjusting his goggles nervously. He's not sure how to answer that. He isn't sure if he even has an answer.

"I was... afraid," he admits, his voice low.

"Afraid of what?"

Tech shrugs, looking away. "Everything. The future, the war, losing you."

You don’t say anything, and Tech takes a deep breath, forcing himself to continue.

“I ran an exhaustive cost benefit analysis, and I had determined that the risks far outweighed the benefits. I could not continue our relationship knowing that I would most likely hurt you. In my mind, I needed to end things before they went any further. Before you were able to become attached.”

"I was already attached," you whisper, your voice cracking. "I was already in love with you."

Tech's heart stutters.

"You were?" he asks, his voice quiet.

You nod, biting your lip. Tech feels his stomach twist, a mixture of guilt and hope rising in him. You were in love with him. You are in love with him. And he has hurt you more than he ever thought possible.

"I was a coward," Tech says quietly. "I knew if we had gone any further, and I were to hurt you, it would have caused me immense emotional pain. And, in the process, I would have risked my ability to perform at optimal efficiency, and that would have resulted in harm to the rest of the squad."

Tech looks up, meeting your gaze. "I didn't want to hurt you, and I didn't want to put the squad at risk. But in the end, I failed at both."

You frown, and Tech can tell that you're trying to understand.

"So, let me get this straight," you begin, your voice strained. "You broke up with me, because you thought it was the best option for everyone involved."

Tech nods, his expression pained.

“That’s not for you to decide, Tech. I can make my own decisions. And, I decided to be with you. But instead, you made the decision for both of us, and you didn't even bother to ask my opinion."

“I knew that if I had discussed it with you, you would have tried to convince me otherwise,” Tech explains, his voice soft. “And I wasn't certain I would be able to resist your arguments."

You shake your head, an incredulous look on your face. "So, basically, you dumped me because you couldn't trust yourself to make a logical decision?"

Tech's shoulders slump, and he nods, his head bowed.

"That is correct. It is also…” He looks at his hands, his expression pained. “For all of my unique modifications, I am still a clone. I am still expendable. But you, you are not. You are more important. You are special." He hesitates, swallowing hard. "You are irreplaceable."

Tech can see tears gathering in your eyes, and he feels a fresh wave of guilt wash over him. He never meant to hurt you, but it seems he has managed to do just that. And now, he doesn't know how to fix it.

"Tech, no." You shake your head. "You're not expendable. None of you are."

"That may be the case," Tech concedes. “But at the time I could not see a future in which the two of us could have a happy life together. Not with the way things were, not with the risk we faced. So, I chose the safest option."

"But we could have figured it out, Tech. We could have found a way."

Tech shakes his head, his expression weary.

"I was not willing to take the risk. I was not willing to gamble with your safety, with your happiness. It was a decision I had to make. For all of our sakes."

You are quiet for a moment, your expression thoughtful. Tech can see the pain in your eyes, the hurt and betrayal, and he wishes he could take it all away. He wishes he could erase his mistakes, undo his actions.

"You made the wrong choice," you say at last, your voice low.

"Yes, I did," Tech admits, his voice quiet. "I was wrong. About a great many things."

He looks up, his gaze meeting yours.

"But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to prove to you that I'm serious, that I want to fix things."

"Why?"

"Because I love you," Tech says, his voice breaking.

Your eyes widen, and you suck in a breath. Tech can see the surprise in your expression, the shock. He knows you didn't expect him to say it, to admit it. But it's the truth. And Tech can't hide it any longer. He can't pretend.

He has to be honest. Even if it means losing you.

"I love you," he repeats, his voice stronger this time. "I always have. I've never stopped. I didn't think I was capable of loving anyone, not like this. But, you changed that." He pauses, swallowing hard. "I don't want to lose you, cyare. Not again. Not ever."

"Tech."

You say his name softly, your voice cracking. Tech can see the tears welling in your eyes, and his chest aches. He wants to take you in his arms, wants to kiss away the pain, but he knows he can't. He knows he has to let you decide. He has to let you choose.

You step forward, and his breath hitches in his chest. You're so close, so near, and Tech wants nothing more than to hold you. But he doesn't. He stays where he is, waiting.

You reach out, your hand cupping his cheek, and Tech leans into the touch, savoring the warmth of your skin. You're looking at him, your eyes searching his, and Tech hopes that you can see the truth in them, the sincerity. He hopes that you can feel how much he loves you, how much he needs you.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice breaking.

You nod, and he can see the tears streaming down your cheeks. Tech wants to wipe them away, but he doesn't move. He stays where he is, watching you, waiting. You're still staring at him, and Tech feels a flicker of hope bloom in his chest.

"I'm sorry, too," you whisper, your voice raw. "I'm sorry I shut you out. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry for everything."

You pause, biting your lip. "I love you, Tech. I never stopped. And, I don't want to lose you, either."

Tech's heart swells, and he can't stop the tears that come, or the smile that spreads across his face. You're looking at him with such tenderness, with such love, that he can't help but reach for you, pulling you close, wrapping his arms around you, holding you tight. You melt into his embrace, your arms winding around his waist, your face buried in his chest.

Tech can feel your tears, wet against his skin, and he runs a hand through your hair, trying to soothe you. You cling to him, your grip almost desperate, and Tech feels his heart break a little more.

You've been through so much, endured so much pain, and he was part of it. He was responsible for it. And he doesn't know how to make it better. He doesn't know how to take away the hurt, the betrayal, the fear. All he can do is hold you, and promise to never let you go.

"Cyare," he breathes, his voice choked with emotion. "You will never lose me. I am yours. Always."

And then, you lift your head, and his eyes meet yours, and Tech can't stop the surge of emotion that rushes through him. You're so beautiful, so perfect, and he can't believe how lucky he is.

You're the best thing that has ever happened to him, the only thing that has ever made him feel alive. And now, here you are, in his arms, telling him you love him. It's everything he's ever wanted, everything he's dreamed of. And it's real. You're real. You're here. And you're his.

"I love you," Tech whispers, and then he leans in, capturing your lips with his.

The kiss is soft, gentle, filled with everything he's feeling, everything he can't say. And when you pull away, Tech's heart skips a beat, and he wonders how he ever thought he could live without you.

"I love you," you whisper back, and Tech can't stop the smile that spreads across his face, the tears that sting his eyes. He holds you tight, and the world seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you.

He's never letting you go again.

#tech x reader #tbb tech x reader #the bad batch #tbb tech #roy writes #clone x reader #the bad batch x reader

196 notes · View notes

444st4rg1rl · 2 months

Text

Roomies

18+ , 5.5k words

tags : roommate!reader, female!reader, sorta sidekick!reader, roommate!Logan, roommate!Wade, Best Friend!Wade, enemies to lovers, harsh words, very tiny angst, smut, oral sex (f) , unprotected p in v, fingering (f), cursing.

a/n: I couldn’t get this idea out of my head, also small spoilers to Deadpool & Wolverine.

The one where you fucking hate your new roommate, but shit he’s also kinda hot.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

“You think Murdock is willing to take a roommate?

Wade has made himself comfortable in his bed in his room, the one out of two rooms in his apartment that is housing three people. It was nice when it was just you and Wade, best buds, partners in crime, pookie and shookie. Whatever the fuck, it had always been you and Wade. Now it’s you, Wade and Logan. Possibly the worst fucking addition to the duo. Doesn’t he know there is always a duo in a trio?

“Gasp! Is it because of the smell? Because pookie no where deep in reddit told me how to clean up-”

You put your hand up to stop him, face full of confusion yet the sheer idea of whatever Wade has to say next kills the curious cat roaming in your thoughts. You lean on his door frame - the doors not fully open out of fear but it’s enough to not want to step foot deep in the room - and closed enough for your eyes to be saved from the atrocity he was talking about.

“Wade, please, I can’t fucking take it anymore I am fucking loosing it. I can’t even get water without seeing that sad sack of shit mopping on our fucking couch! It’s sad, Wade, if you loved me you'd kick him out.”

The childish ultimatum is dumb but maybe the puppy dog eyes you have going on as you stare at Wade big eyed and faux sadness. Overall this is childish of you, to beg your best friend to kick out the guy who just had to fucking help you save the world seems pathetic and rude of you. But who gives a fuck? Logan is rude, an arrogant asshole, a prick, douche, down-under fucker. He is the worst hero? you have had the displeasure of meeting. But no, God strikes you down on your hatred of this old man once more; he makes him hot.

“How could you say that about a war veteran?”

The sarcasm combined with Wade talking to Mary Puppins like a baby rather than looking at you, has you wishing Cassandra killed you herself back when she had the chance. It was interesting to say the least, getting thrown into a rag team with Wade and being told to save the multiverse was not your usual mission but hey, money is money. That wasn’t really your style, the whole big hero sham. Vigilante, mercenary, the people's people, too hot to handle, now that’s just one big umbrella term you’d throw yourself under. You met Wade when he wasn’t deadpool and you were some weird eighteen year old who was a little too good with knives and way too lucky to be alive. It felt natural then and there to just fall under his wing and have him throw you out there, figuratively and literally (there was the 32 floor incident and the scars to prove it). Your thankful for it even if it means some scars and permanent migraine because twenty-three year old you now has the confidence to throw a kitchen knife that was embedded in the wall next to you- right into Wades head and slam the door shut, something eighteen year old would have hesitated to do at first.

“Nice clothes ya got there, Bub.”

Logan’s deep voice rattles through your system, spiking your nervous system higher than it normally is around him, (usually very high). You spin around from Wade’s door, the curse you had ready to drip off your tongue is gathered right back into your mouth after you get a look at him. Tall, dark, so big and strong; the words Karen Page had uttered to you the first time she saw Logan after you and Wade had brought him around the group you guys converse in. The words that had haunted you at night, the nights where you catch him and Wade fighting and his massive arms are on display for you to shamelessly stare at or the nights where you curse what God you might have pissed off in your past multiverses that put your very thin bedroom wall right next to the shower wall. Hearing The Wolverine, the one that you had read in comics growing up, untouchable and badass Wolverine, was the one you heard bite down on his knuckles to quiet down his deep groans as he got himself off in the shower. You close your eyes to regain what you were gonna say and look at Logan.

“Thanks, go fuck yourself.”

You turn to make the small trek to your room, looking down at clothes Logan had chosen to comment on. An oversized and stretched t-shirt that has Spider-man's logo on it, the shirt long enough to reach your thighs so like always you for-go the pants. You're not gonna change your comfiness for one person who decided to be a roach in your living room.

Logan’s large hand on your wrist is what gets your anger sparking as he stops you from entering your room.

“Can I fucking help you?”

Harsh words cut through your mouth as you remove your wrist from his hand, if you were to miss the warmth it provided, then well that’s later you in your bed problem.

“Are you going with Wilson tomorrow?”

Tomorrow, a day job that you and Wade had picked up, some bullshit, go kill this person,yadda yadda, and here's the money. The main reason you're so excited? A day away from him.

You don’t even bother to say yes, you nod your head at him, open your door, stare at him, ignore the smirk, and slam the door. Wait why the fuck did he make that face?

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Now, to be truthful you should have pushed back against Logan last night. Yelled and pushed for a fight on why did he care where you were going, why did he make that face at you. You really should have, instead you chose peace. Now you live with violence in the present. Your suit clings too tight to you right now and one of your knives is digging into your thigh and oh, fucking Logan is apparently is coming. There goes any excitement you had about the day trip away from the bastard. You give Wade the silent treatment in the apartment, on the way to the car, during his shameful ‘Careless Whisper’ performance in the car and halfway to the mission. Wade drives, it’s an amusing site to watch the rather large man sit in the driver seat of the 2008 Nissan Rogue (Hondas hold too much PTSD for the group). You make yourself comfortable in the passenger and try to tune out Logan seating himself in the back.

Wade leans over, not subtly, and puts a hand cupping around his masked mouth and whispers rather loudly-

“Is this because I washed your suit too tight? Or is it your allergy to cheap soaps? I know your skin is bougie, bestie.”

You're going to kill him, you and Logan. You go to grab at the stickshift in the center console to fuck up the car but Wade knows you to well and already has a hand on the stick shift. Hearing Logan chuckle has you moving quickly. A gun is pressed right to the center of his unfortunately gorgeous forehead and takes off safely as you make direct eye contact with him.

“I will fucking pull the trigger right now.”

“Ya know you won’t Bubs, you're too much of a pussy for that.”

The familiar nickname sends a shiver down your spine, and a heat you're too known with through the lower parts of you but the anger from his doubting overshines like usual, intrusively you unbuckle your seat belt and jump in the back seat and pistol whip Logan across the face.

Bad choice

Logan stares at you as the gash from the pistol is rapidly repairing itself but the bloody evidence makes itself permanent on his face. He’s quick to act, unbuckling his seatbelt and going to launch himself at you.

You don’t have any fancyshamchy powers of that sort, you heal fast, just like the other two in the car but not that fast, maybe a day or two. And you're lucky, one would call it a power and someone wouldn’t. But fuck your lucky you avoid Logans fast coming fist towards your head. You duck and lean back on the seat kicking your feet out to hit him in the stomach. He gets pushed back and his head hits the widow opposite of you hard and loud. The site has you cackling, from your view as your half laid down on the seat and one leg half up and the other hanging off the seat. Logan’s broad body is pushed up against the window. Your cackling comes to a yelp as Logan is quick to pounce on you. His large body pins yours down to the seat. One arm is quick to grab your hands, capturing them in one hand that he brings above your head. His other arm across your throat pressing down hard enough to cut off your air supply.

You blame the lack of air for the thought that pushes through your mind, the sight of him above you right now all furious and heated. His thick forearm heavy on your throat should have you kicking him immediately off you but you falter. The worst part? Logan notices. You're a second to late for your normal reaction time. You watch in slight horror as Logan realizes this above you.

“Hey! Are you guys fucking back there? Listen I know where in the middle of enemies to lovers fanfic but C’MON!”

For fucking once Wade decided to be useful these past two days, you ignore his spewing but Logan seems distracted. You get the high ground and kick him off, shoving a baby knife into his neck and scrambling your ass back into the front seat by Wade. As you adjust yourself back into your seat, the feeling of hot slick between your thighs has become a rather uncomfortable problem that has aroused. You shift uncomfortably in your seat and make the mistake of catching Logan’s eyes in the rearview mirror and he gives you a sideways glance. Fuck, fucking mutants, fucking weird senses, fucking dog boy.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

If Logans being truthful, he never hated you. Hate’s too strong of a word, he does although despise you. Loathe, detest, revulse, abhorrence, those are the words Logan would use if someone asked him to describe his feelings towards you. The annoying girl who had saved the world with him and who he shares an apartment with. The very annoying girl who he wants to pummel into the ground, and then into a bed.

Since the whole ‘we saved the universe now we gotta go back to New York and hey I guess you can come with us’ has happened to him has tested his patience.

It’s rough adjusting to a new life let alone a new fucking universe and she makes it no better. Logan truly wants to hate her the way he portrays, he wonders if she gets tired of arguing all the time. Being so uptight and rude twenty-four seven, to have anger vibrate through her bones. Every conversation they had is laced with malice.

“Why the fuck are you in my fridge.” - “I didn’t realize you owned the whole fridge, girl.’

“You're a reckless waste of space, I'm surprised Cassandra failed to kill you.” - “Ain’t yo whole team dead cause of you?”

“You sure Wilson’s just not pitying you, Bubs?” - “How are you over two hundred years old and you still can’t pull bitches?”

She’s quick-witted, sharp tongued and annoyingly gorgeous. The moment Logan laid his eyes on you, he felt his blood spike faster to his heart and his dick. Pretty young girl covered in blood holding a 9 mm, he was enamored, then you opened your mouth and it was a wrap (discreet wrap). Hating you publicly and his shower thoughts is what he had lived by for the past two months yet here he sits now in the back of the car, Wades shitty pop playlist blasting, and the image of you pinned underneath of him with your big wide eyes staring up at him is burned into his head. You faltered, he saw it himself the way you went lax and the way you liked it. He’s not stupid, he bluntly watches as you push your way out from under and throw yourself back into the passenger seat. He can’t control it but he smells you, the way you have to squeeze your thigh together to get some relief.

It sends him into a frenzy as he catches your glazed eyes in the rearview mirror, he curses himself as he feels his blood rush and his cock hardens in his suit. Fuck

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

You're sure Wade is the only person who enjoyed the mission, the only part you enjoyed is the fat wad of cash that was pushed into your hand. The three of you shuffle into the car that is somehow still standing. The three of you all covered in various contrivances along with Wade's now missing left arm. The car getting stained with every movement mixed with the hot interior is worse than a crowded hallway in highschool. You roll your window down and let the cool air soothe over your skin like a new layer of skin.

“I can’t believe those perverted bastards took my arm! Hope they like jerking their dicks off with sandpaper because…’’ Wade’s nonsense lulls you to a slumber that makes you ache less.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

You're a loudmouth, not as bad as Wade but you need your fix of arguing and winning. Which is what has you standing at your door thinking hard before you open it.

Logan’s ignoring you, well, you're also ignoring him. You’ve both been trying to pretend the other doesn’t exist as one can in a 15x10 apartment layout. Just start some shit, call him fucking lazy or ugly. You psych yourself up ready to start the argument and win. The door opens and there you go sauntering out of it in your big t-shirt and no pants. Logan makes a quick glance towards your direction but otherwise seems preoccupied on the television in front of him . You stand in the kitchen behind him mouth agape as you struggle to think of the words, angrily you grab water and return back to your room.

This keeps happening, you and Logan keep avoiding each other, not more than sparing a glance. Of course, it’s Wade who says something. He catches you as you're in your room and Logans of and about in New York.

“So did the Big Bad Wolf really eat your grandma, huh?”

“I'm gonna make you eat your grandma.”

“Kinky, but my grandma was a fierce woman.” He launches himself onto your bed and grabs your fluffy throw pillow to hold, Mary Puppins trailing in after Wade. “But seriously pookie, this is odd behavior for you two. Y’know you guys are usually like cats and dogs after each other. Oh! You think the song ‘It’s Raining Men’ took into consideration ‘it's raining cats and dogs out”…....

“I hear Logan jerk off in the shower”

You're not completely sure why that's the first thing you say to Wade, but it shuts him up. He stares at you comically before he loudly gasps and goes to cover Mary Puppins ears before excitedly staring at you. If he wasn’t horrifically scarred you could almost compare him to a teen girl right now.

“Sexual Tension! You have to fuck The Wolverine!”

You stare at Wade like he just said he was never going to shoot again.

“The fuck are you spewing about?”

You have no other choice but to listen to Wade spew about how to fix all your problems you have to fuck Logan. You get up as Wade is on his second speech on how to suck dick 101, you push him out of your room and depressingly stare at your wall before you realize.

“Fuck!”

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

After your conversation with Wade it's all that plagues your mind. The way the veins pop in his arms, how his chest looks in his wife beater. The dog tags that hand around his neck, you want to fall in front of your face and then choke him out. It catches up to you finally, after all you still share a kitchen with him. It's awkward, more awkward then a teen boy confessing his crush, it's kinda awkward where a two hundred year old mutant and a twenty three year old something of the sorts have a mutual hatred but sexual deviance of the other.

It’s one-thirty four at night when you and Logan run into each other. You're grabbing a glass of water and he's sitting at the small Island nursing a beer.

“Ya hate me so much Bubs you had to lock yourself away?”

You glare at him, eyes following the way he laughs at his own sentence and how his lips close around the top of his beer. You move your eyes up to catch his already glaring at you. You rack your mind to what to say, to embarrass him.

“Bathroom walls are thin ya know, Old man.”

Got him. He freezes as he sets down his beer on the counter before continuing to stare at you, you smile at your upperhand in this.

“Don’t know why you wanna piss me off so bad Old man, that's the only way you get it up?”

Low blow, but who cares. You certainly don’t as you watch as he racks his brain to say something. You beat him to it again.

“Why don’t you get yourself something nice, a bar, club, something. Or has it been too long for you to try anything with civilization?”

He stands up and fuck if he ain’t tall. You watch as he makes the small space in between you, he stands at his full. You reach about his shoulder so you have to lift your head to stare at him, he’s already staring down at you with a gleam in his eye. One of his hefty arms comes down on the counter behind you, caging you. His other arm rests by his side, an escape route if you still have the shreds of your dignity that tells you to leave, go back to your room and go to sleep. Yet Logan tilts his head at you and watches as his lips curl into a smirk.

“Harsh accusations from someone-”

His words are cut off as you put a hand to cover his mouth, you just know he’s going to mention the moment in the car. Your chest are pressed together as you keep your hand tight around his mouth. Your eyes are filled with something akin to embarrassment but something else.

“Shut it. That was a moment of weakness.”

Logan grabs your hand that's covering his mouth and holds it tightly in his hand, it’s when you don’t jerk your hand back that Logan cages you in with both arms. There goes my dignity.

“Yeah Bubs, moment of weakness. That's why you've been avoiding me like the plague huh?” He comes closer to your face, one large hand sneaking up to grip at your chin. “Scared you might like it?”

No fucking way. You feel how your heart stops in your chest, how all you can do is have your eyes scan over his face. You push your thighs together in some relief from the feeling of molten lava being run through your system down to your panties. You lean your face closer to him. You grip your fingers hard in the marble counter behind you. Trying to hold on to whatever last bit of anger that is spurring through your body.

“Didn’t you avoid me too huh? Don’t point fingers.”

It’s like it was a trigger that switched something inside of him. The hand that had been caging you in is holding your waist in a grip so taut you could feel the fingertip indents forming. Logan seizes your chin again, a quicker way to shut you up.

“Fuck ya want me to, huh?” He leans his large figure down to be only inches away from each other's faces. The scowl on his face shouldn’t send a thrill down your body but any shreds of sensible thoughts have been thrown out the window moments before. Logan watches you intently, he sees how you have a remark ready to spit at him like poison.

“I’ve watched you parade yourself around this fucking apartment like this-” he grips the edge of the long t-shirt your wearing “-and I had to do nothing about it.”

You should bunch up your shoulder, fight back, but it seems any of your usual inhibitions are clawed away when it comes to Logan. You're a simple girl at heart, your eyes catch how thick the arms that are encasing you and the moment the idea you want them to hold you while he rams from the back is when you give up any thoughts that are holding you back.

“Why don’t you do something now?”

It’s ballsy but it’s worth it for the way you can see Logan squint his eyes and push himself harder against you, the cold counter pushed into your back a small relief to your hot skin. His hand gripping your chin goes down to match the equally harsh grip on your waist. The shitty dim light from the kitchen overhead shadows over Logan perfectly, light defining the muscles that are being pulled taunt in his neck and shoulders. He drops his head to have lips brush over your ear.

“I hear ya too, in your room. How those fucking fingers of yours aren’t enough, you wish that was me instead huh, Bubs?” His last words come out breathy with a hint of a chuckle falling off his lips. He drops his head on your shoulder and you feel your body run hot at the amount of contact. “Fuck, I could smell ya in there all the fucking time. Knew you hear me through the walls, girl.”

You tilt your head slightly letting your plush lips ghost over his ear like he did moments ago.

“This doesn’t change anything, you're arrogant, egotistical and an asshole.”

Logan lifts his head confused at your words before you grab his face into your hands, a laughable size difference, and push his lips onto yours. He catches on quickly moving his lips against yours rather harshly, having a hand slide to your neck to keep you in place, the other hand pushing you against him. You groan at the feeling of his hardened cock pressed up by your upper thigh. It’s quick and rough with him, the way he grabs at your skin and handles you.

His calloused hands reach under your thighs and grunts out a ‘jump’ and that's exactly what you do. Letting your thighs hit the cold counter is a burn relief on your burning thighs. His lips run down from your lips to your neck, his beard rubbing against your skin has you throwing your head back into the cabinets that rest behind you. His hands knead your plush thighs and you pull at his hair tufts and he groans into your neck.

He pulls away completely leaving you a confused mess. You must look like a sight, shirt falling off one shoulder and bunching at your waist. Hair a wreck framing your face and your kiss swollen lips. You go to mumble out a disoriented ‘what’ but Logans already grabbing at the undersides of your thighs and you're pulled into his arms. His fingertips grip into the backs of your thighs leaving bruises in their wake, you take the advantage to run your hands down his tank top clad shoulders and chest feeling the hard muscle ripple under your touch.

“Say it.”

You stare at him slightly confused as he sets you down on your bed, his hands resting on the tops of your thighs. He’s looking at you so earnestly it almost hurts.

“Say what, Logan?” You lean back on your arms before deciding on gaining a surge of confidence. You grab at the edge of your shirt and rip it over your head. Free the nipple and all that but thank fuck is all you think. It’s like a reward watching his eyes land on your bare chest and the way his breath hitches. You pull him down by his tank top. “I want you Logan.”

The reaction is spontaneous, he’s leaning back and taking his tank top off from the hem behind his neck. You crawl back onto your bed and he follows you, in this state you could ask him to follow you to any universe and he would. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down back to your lips, his hands gliding smoothly over your torso before he grabs one of your tits in hand and pulls harshly at your nipple. He does it again on the other nipple after he hears the gasp that comes out your mouth. He moves his kissed lips down from your lips to your neck. You catch the image, his massive body crowding yours, a shield from the outside world. His lips detach from the purple hazing mark starting to form on your neck and attach his lips to one of your taut nipples while kneading the other one. You snake your hands into his hair and pull. Into the spank bank box.

It’s when his lips start trailing down your tits to your stomach, kissing and playing with the plush skin before he kisses around your thigh. Teasing on purpose, avoiding where you need him the most. He lets his thumbs enter the hem of your painties before he looks back at you.

“You know how long I’ve waited to be here, baby?”

“Then show me, c’mon”

Logan pulls your painties off so slowly it should be a crime but with how he kisses your pussy like it’s a prize bails him out. His arms wrap around your thighs to give him better access, a forearm going across your stomach to hold you down like you're in the wrong for squirming. He licks up and down your pussy and fuck it makes you angry how good he is at it. His tongue teasing your hole and you whimper, you pull at his hair tufts and he looks at you, his eyes are teasing and his mouth and chin are covered in your juices. He maintains eye contact as he moves his lips over to your clit and sucks, he keeps his mouth closed around the bundle and watches how you moan and squirm under him. He removes one arm from around your waist to thrust a single finger into your tight hole. He doesn’t make a remark on the gasp but pulls up for where he was and stops his movement.

“Stop fucking moving, c’mob be good for me, Bubs.”

The words have you melting into your sheets as you try to stop your brash movements. The combination of the second finger he added and his tongue working wonders on your sensitive clit has your stomach forming that familiar knot. You grab at one of his arms to signal him but he doesn’t relent.

“Gonna cum ,gonna cum, Fuck!”

“I know Bubs let it out, yeah just like that baby.”

He sits up for where he was laying down, your body still spread out for him as you try to catch your breath from the orgasm. You trail your hand down his toned and muscular abs to his jean buttons, slowly undoing the button and the zipper. Logan looks down at you with a growing smirk on his face as he finishes the job of pulling his pants a little down his thighs.

“Ya want something, girl? Ya gotta get it.”

You push yourself up onto your knees as he stands at the edge of your bed, shoving down his boxers, his cock bounces to his stomach, a flush coating the tip as pearly white precum beads out. You take his cock in hand, salivating over the happy trail in your view. You pump his cock a few times before you lean in and kiss the tip. You're a few kitten licks deep before he pulls your head back and shakes his head.

“Another time, girl. I’ve been waiting too long to be inside of you.”

You groan and fall back, letting your legs spread for the man you hate so much. He adjusts himself in between your legs trying to make space for his large figure. He looks down at you, one hand on his cock and the other on your thigh, holding it up to his waist. He strokes at your calf in a fond way, maybe a ‘sorry i'm about to wreck your pussy.’

He lines himself up and swipes his cock head through your folds, letting his head hand forward from the feeling. You wrap both legs around his colossal waist in an attempt to have him sheath himself fully inside you. He laughs from above you and lines his fat tip against your hole. Sliding himself inch by inch, you look down and he’s only half way in and it’s too full. He tries to push in more and you whine, throwing your head back and putting your hands on his chest. He takes a hand and grabs one of your hands on his chest and sheaths himself fully inside of you.

“Yeah Bub? Too much?”

It’s cocky how he laughs above you, laughing at your whining. You shift your hips under him trying to get comfortable. His eyes watching your every move, you kick his thigh, for being cocky and a signal to move. He puts a forearm by your head and another on the thigh wrapped around the waist. He starts slowly moving his hips thrusting in and out.

“Really Old man, c’mon let loose.”

“You don’t want me to do that, baby”

You roll your eyes from under him, you shove at his shoulders and have him fall on to his back. He stays snug inside you as you adjust yourself on top of him, watching as he gives you a one over, both his hands gripping the fat on your hips. You start lifting your thighs up and down, putting your hands on his chest making an excuse to feel on those godly abs. The grunts he gives from under you are spurring you on despite the burn in your thighs.

Logan is a simple man, he watches the lewd faces you make as you lean forward, your tits caught between your arms as you bounce your thighs on him. He lets you do your own thing, admiring you. But the primal urge is stronger, he grabs at your hips and fucks up into you. His cock moving at rapid speed thrusting in and out of from under, you keep yourself up on this chest. Your cockdrunk on him. The feeling of him fucking into you is making you dumb, you let your tits press to his chess and attempt to kiss him. You're more so moaning into his mouth than kissing him. You let him switch places, manhandling you onto your knees. He practically mounts you like a dog in heat , his chest pressed against back. He’s got his forearm pressed to your collarbones, hand on your throat, his other hand reaches down to rub at your clit. Your a moaning mess, to fucked out to care about anything. Your whines of Logan's name has him thrusting harder into. He leans his head on your shoulder turning towards your ear.

“Yeah, you close baby, I can feel it. It’s okay Bubs, I'm here, let it out. Cum on this dick Bub.”

You let his words wash over you, coaxing you into your second orgasm. He fucks you through it, before he stills his thrust. You grab his arm- “Inside, cum inside”- he lets out a groan that rattles in your chest and shoots hot ropes of cum inside. Logan adjusts you both to lay down, your upper half on his chest, his half hard cock still cum deep in your pussy. You're tempted to fall asleep at this until Logan opens his mouth.

“Still hate me, baby?”

You smack his chest not bothering to get up. You let yourself lay on his chest, grabbing your comforter and pulling it up to your chest, the blanket falling around his waist.

“You're still in jeans, on my bed.”

“I'll take em off for round two”

You don’t say anything just letting the both of you bask in the silence, Logan’s playing with your hair. It’s nice, up and until you hear the front door open. You brace yourself.

You forgot to lock the door, and in comes Wade.

“What the FUCK balls, without me, seriously?”

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #x men #x men x reader #x reader #female reader #he's so sexy it hurt #enemies to lovers #Logan

235 notes · View notes

runningfrom2am · 9 months

Text

leveling the playing field // epilogue

summary: seven years later.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. this part is quite tame! idk, discussion of the games as a concept is pretty messed up? obviously r & coryo are both delusional but whats new??

a/n: this is it :') thank you all so so so much for all the love on this fic! it means so much to me that you guys enjoyed it! but don't get too sad (like me) bc i am not ready to let them go so i'll probably do like blurbs and stuff ab this series so stick around for those!

series masterlist // playlist

~ seven years later ~

"You've got this, Darling. It's going to be perfect." Coryo insists, kissing your temple as you relentlessly adjust your hair, trying to tame any imaginary flyaways in your flawlessly straightened hair.

"As long as it's not a disaster..." You mumble, giving up on your hair and refocusing on making sure you have all your papers.

Arena map? Check. Tribute and mentors list? Check. Schedule?

"With you in charge, I do not doubt that it will be anything short of flawless. I know you. You wouldn't have it any other way." Your husband assures you, taking your spot in front of the large mirror to adjust his red coat, matching to yours.

You sigh, tucking the large stack of meticulously organized papers into your bag. "I mean, does anyone honestly expect it to be perfect? It's my first games... There's a small margin for error, right?"

"No." Coryo replies sternly, turning to face you. He grabs your chin as you groan, forcing your eyes to meet his. "There's no room for error, but it will be perfect. So don't worry." He plants a gentle kiss on your lips. "And if you need anything, just call."

"Okay..." You hum, smiling as you look up at him. "I'm going to miss you, though." Your smile shifts into a pout, and he kisses your forehead.

"I know. I'll miss having my assistant around, too." He mumbles against the softness of your skin.

Your time working together under Dr. Gaul had been a dream. Why did everything have to change all at once? You've been together every day for years, and you had the most fun helping plan the games and pitching all your ideas to Dr. Gaul, staying up late over ideas due the next morning and too many cups of coffee, giggling over how funny it would be to see a games where the people of the Districts got to vote over who to send in.

"Do you think it's because that's kind of what happened to Lucy Gray?" You giggled in the dark, feeling Coryo's form shift under the blankets next to you before you felt his breath hit the side of your face.

"Now that you mention it..." He laughed quietly. "Yeah, it totally was."

You had always come up with Dr. Gaul's favourite ideas together. But now, she was gone. And it was just you. You honestly thought that woman was some kind of immortal beast, but clearly, no one is fully bulletproof.

She had offered the position of Head Gamemaker to both of you in her will. You and Coriolanus had worked well together, she had always said that about you. That the two of you were her favourite experiment.

"No, Darling. You take it."

"What? No, we've always done everything together." You protest, furrowing your brow. "She's offered it to both of us, we can do whatever we want, no more waiting for her approval. We can run with it! Come on, it'll be so fun, Coryo."

"That's your dream. Not mine." He smiled at you, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

You frowned, focussing yourself on pulling the buttons of his shirt so they were perfectly aligned. "Are... Are you sure? I don't know if I can do it without you."

"You'll never do anything without me, you know that." He hummed, pushing your hair out of your eyes. "If you need help, just ask. I'm right here. Always."

"I'm not an assistant anymore." You laugh. "Technically, you're kind of my assistant now." You shrug, leaning down to pull on your shoes, white with bottoms red to match your coat.

"Okay, well, I wouldn't put it like that..." He laughs, shaking his head at you and holding out a hand to steady you while you adjust yourself to accommodate your heels.

You take it gratefully, standing up and brushing off your coat once more with your free hand. "Be honest, Coryo, do you think the bear is too much? I feel a little like it's cheating, they don't even really have a chance. Do you get what I mean?"

"Darling," He cups your cheeks in his hands. "No one will be able to look away. That's the most important part."

"I just... I want it to be something different. Something people will still want to watch."

"Everyone will be watching." He assures you. "Now, let's get going. You have a big day ahead."

"Yes sir, Mister President."

"My name is Lucretius "Lucky" Flickerman, your favourite and only host of the annual Hunger Games on Capitol TV, and I have a very special treat for you all this morning before the beginning of the games." You gently remove your coat as you sit down across from Lucky, holding it out for someone to take before the cameras flit your way, though the live audience can already see you.

"For anyone who lives under a rock, this beautiful woman here with me is our lovely First Lady of Panem, and now, Head Gamemaker, Dr. Y/N Snow." He continues as your coat is taken away, and you smile across at him. "Thank you so much for squeezing us into your very busy schedule. Now, how are you feeling about today, Miss Snow?"

"Doctor is fine." You correct him politely, to which he utters a quick apology. "And I am feeling very good about my first games. Dr. Gaul left some big shoes to fill, but I've been working with her for years so I have some really exciting ideas that I just can't wait for the world to see."

"Yes! I'm certain you do." Lucky grins. "Now, I don't know how much of our audience will remember this, but the first time we met was during the tenth games, I was hosting for the first time and you and your husband were both mentors! Just young academy students with some big dreams, isn't that right?"

You laugh, nodding as he speaks and letting the cheers die down. "Yes, I remember that. All of us were kind of getting a feel for how things would work, and my husband was actually the one who came up with the ideas of betting and sponsorships. He has truly always been such a leader, and so smart. He was the one who asked Dr. Gaul if I could help him with his mentorship, and she agreed, and then she just really loved how well we worked together so she kept us around to study under her all these years. It has been such a fun and kind of... fulfilling journey for us both."

"And now, here you are." He nods at you.

"Here I am." You echo it back to him, waiting for another question.

"Now, we have to address what can only be described as the elephant in the room..." He starts, and you try and hide your confused look as you straighten your posture. If there was some kind of problem you should have been made aware before you set foot on stage. "That summer, after your mentorship. Tell us. What happened? Both of you disappeared off the face of the earth right after your success in the games, then came back with these shiny new internships under Dr. Gaul, how did you swing that?"

"Oh!" You laugh, partially relieved it wasn't about these games, but hesitant because everyone knows better than to bring up the tenth games in any sort of detail. "Well, that was the beginning of our internship with Dr. Gaul, and she wanted us to gain some life experience, so we did some touring of the Districts on our own to get to know the people of Panem better. Neither of us had ever left home before, so it was definitely a unique experience that I think was really good for both of us. It was a super secret thing, for some reason. We weren't even to tell our families."

"I see! Well, I hope you learned everything you sought out to?"

"We did." You nod. "And more."

"Okay, well, with that cleared up, tell us more about the games you have planned for us this year. Is there anything new we should be expecting?"

"Oh, definitely." You nod, smiling wide now that you can once again talk about your games. "But I wouldn't want to spoil anything, so everyone will just have to watch." You shrug.

"I don't know if you are aware of this, Dr. Snow," He leans in a little closer, smile on his face. "But one new thing that we know for sure is changing this year, is that the president, your husband, has made it mandatory to watch the games. Not just here in the Capitol, but everywhere in the Districts as well. He made an announcement just this morning, he wants everyone to see what you've worked so hard for."

"Aw." You blush, pressing your hands to your chest. "That's so sweet! No, I didn't know that." The audience eats up your reaction, and you try to keep your eyes on him instead of acknowledging all the clapping and shouts from below you.

"Well, that's just about the cutest surprise! He has a lot of confidence in you." He laughs, reaching over and patting your leg. "You've all heard it here, he's just as good a husband as he is a president!"

"It's true." You agree, hardly audible over the crowds enthusiasm.

"Speaking of your husband..." He says, turning back to look into the wing of the stage and nodding at someone. "He set us up with a little surprise for you, if you don't mind."

"Oh, please." You laugh, covering your face as your cheeks heat up. "Of course he did." You shake your head, whistles from the audience not helping your blush.

"Okay, you can look now. Don't hide!" Lucky laughs, and you lower your hands from in front of your face to be presented with a bouquet of white and red roses. It wasn't an extravagant gift from him, the amount of roses he has gifted to you since your return from Twelve together is astronomical by now, but it's a gesture you cherish nonetheless. You smile as you take them.

"Beautiful, as always." You grin, making a point of smelling them before handing them back to the assistant who's waiting with a vase for them.

"And we have one more thing here, I believe..." He hums, looking back again while you're distracted passing off the wrapped flowers.

When you turn back to look at him you gasp, hands flying up to cover your mouth, fearless of whether or not you would smudge your lipstick. "Is that for me?" You ask, voice higher in octave from the excitement as one of the stagehands walks out with a small dog, fur dyed a soft shade of red with a matching bow around its neck.

"Indeed it is!" Lucky laughs as you're handed the puppy.

"Oh my god..." You smile, tears brimming in your eyes. "Hi there..."

"I think there's a note for you there too..." Lucky urges you and you grab the tag tied onto the bow. "Mind reading it for us?" He says, holding his handkerchief out to you.

"Thank you," You laugh, dabbing under your eyes with your free hand. "A new assistant to match your shoes." You read, laughing at the inside joke.

Everyone laughs, and you get from Lucky's confused expression that you should explain. "Uh, working under Dr. Gaul we would always joke that he was my assistant and vice versa." You laugh, wiping your eyes again before you continue. "I am so proud of you. Finally, the world will see you as I do. Intelligent, strong, and beautiful. Unstoppable. That's why I love you, you're as pure as the driven Snow."

The audience awe's, but you know none of them get it the way you do. "Another inside joke." You nod at Lucky, trying to hold back from crying so much you turn into a mess.

"I stand corrected. That is the cutest surprise." He points to the dog in your lap. "Both literally and figuratively."

"I don't know what I'll do with it." You laugh, shaking your head as the puppy jumps up against your chest, trying to lick your face.

"How about a name, to start?" Lucky prompts you.

"Oh, gosh. Well..." You giggle, lifting it and setting it back down so it will sit in your lap. It's so small, hardly bigger than your hands. It'll likely never grow larger than your lap. It's perfect. "What about Lucky?" You tease.

"Oh, you flatter me, Y/N. Come on, something better."

"I don't know!" You laugh. "I'm not good at naming... things."

Lucky laughs. "Our Head Gamemaker with no ideas? That seems unlikely."

"Okay, okay. You're just putting me on the spot here, I'm a little nervous." You laugh, stroking over the dog's head. "I tell you what, before the games begin this morning I'll come up with twelve names, assign them randomly to the districts, then whoever shall win the games will determine the name of my dog. Does that sound fair?"

"Ah! That's brilliant!" Lucky laughs, clapping his hands together. "And that's a good incentive for anyone who hasn't yet placed their bets or sent in donations for the tributes! Your donation may just be what gives the First Lady's dog its name. How fun!"

"It'll be interesting." You giggle, looking down at the puppy in your lap. It must have been white before the dye, it took so well. Maybe it will fade into a pink before it grows out its natural white fur- you wouldn't want it to stay red forever, but for show, it was perfect.

"Now, we really shouldn't be taking up any more of your time. You have a busy day ahead!" Lucky says and you nod in agreement, standing up and carefully tucking the small dog under your arm. "Thank you for making time for us, I know I'm looking forward to seeing what you have in store for us."

"Thank you. I really hope you all enjoy the games!" You smile, holding out a hand for him to shake which he takes quickly, then allowing you to walk off the stage.

As predicted by a certain Mister President; Coriolanus Snow, your first games as Head Gamemaker went without a hitch. They were perfect in every way. Capitol citizens were buzzing- not just about the games, the mutts you incorporated into the newly decorated arena, or the most shocking kills, but also about your dog. The people loved her, and so did you. She hardly ever left your lap or your side for the duration of the games, which only lasted a matter of days.

The party your husband threw for you at the presidential palace, your home, at the end of the games was extravagant. Coryo couldn't help but broadcast his pride to all of the Capitol. He loved you; you were his, and he needed everyone to know. Not a soul in all the world was anywhere close to being on your level, and shaping you into the perfect wife and First Lady was what Coriolanus Snow considered his greatest achievement. As you stood next to him, his palm tucked neatly against your lower back, you were perfect. More perfect than you were the day you fought for a spot in the mentorships that he granted you, more perfect than the he first time he kissed you, and more perfect than both of the days he had killed someone for you. Without question, he would do it all again if it meant he would get to hold you even just one more time.

"I'm so proud of you, Love." He gently rubs your back, looking down at you while you overlook your garden from the patio off of your bedroom.

You smile, standing up on your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Snow lands on top." You whisper, biting your lip when you see a shift behind his eyes.

"You bet we do." He hums with a smug smile, lifting you up and carrying you back inside.

And somewhere, thousands of miles away in the Northern shambles of a still recovering District Thirteen, while you and your husband are celebrating, Sejanus Plinth and Lucy Gray Baird share knowing, sorrowful glances when it's announced on the crackling radio that the winner of the Seventeenth Annual Hunger Games was a boy from District Two, and because of this, the First Lady of Panem's dog shall be called Sage.

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world@nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey , @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

taglist is closed for coryo unfortunately, but my requests for him are open!! so send me all your suggestions!! requests here!!

#tbosas #coriolanus snow #hunger games #tbosas x reader #tbosas fic #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo x reader #coryo snow

438 notes · View notes

gravehags · 4 months

Text

let the devil in

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator!Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT, MDNI

Tags: OH THEY FUCKIN, PinV, loss of virginity, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, improper timing of satanic prayer, lots of ooey gooey feelings, secondo being a real one, stelline the rat makes a brief return, sister imperator being unsettling as shit

Words: 6,803

Summary: You have just about had enough of dancing around one another. It's now or never.

a/n: bro writing this had me shaking THIS IS IT, THE BIG ONE god i hope it lives up to my hype

The remainder of your time off passes without incident - for better and for worse.

Copia has been lovely - a perfect gentleman - but as much as you appreciate his sweet words and his kind heart, you’re left wondering why he hasn’t made any…advances towards you. When your kisses turn heated he shies away and you don’t pursue the issue, wondering if you’re just coming on too strong. Wondering if he regrets the evening you spent together on New Years Eve. You try not to let it get to you but every night you lie awake, staring up at the ceiling worried that he has regrets. Part of you - the part that sees the sincerity in his eyes when he dotes on you, the logical part - tells you that he’s just being cautious. The other part of you…well. That little parasite is constantly in your ear telling you he’s just being kind - too kind to rip the bandaid off and break it off with you. Back and forth these two sides play tug of war and you’re the one left to suffer in silence. And it’s not just your mind that suffers but your body. Your body aches for him, your fingers frantically pressing against your clit in a poor imitation of the curve of his cock. You crave his touch and are filled with sadness as you watch the bruises his fingers left on your thighs yellow and fade. You want to bring your concerns up to him but the fear that the awful little parasite in you has been right all along keeps your mouth shut. So you let him court you - bring you more flowers (dark red peonies this time, you dried the roses he gave you the moment they began to wilt and now the bundle hangs from your bedroom mirror), hold your hand on your daily walks, eat by your side - and hope that through sheer force of will he seeks out your embrace once more. You’re almost relieved when you start back at work again, able to keep your hands and mind busy with something other than your unsettling thoughts and anxiety-fraught fledgling relationship.

–

Copia feels as if he’s going mad.

Not from you, never from you but…his desire for you. The way his body and his mind relive the feel of your cunt pressed up against him, the heat and wet pushing against his clothed cock. He clenches his fist and shifts in his office chair, the wood creaking beneath him. He’s trying his best - his very best - to be good and sweet and docile for you. To treat you like he wants to, like he knows you deserve. But his want for you is all-consuming, dogging him day and night, in your presence and without it. He wants your body - wants to corrupt your body - true, but more than that he wants…you. Hungers for your soul, your love. Wants to crawl inside your veins and make a home in your heart. He’s told you he loves you, true, but would the extent of it scare you off? He’s torn by wanting to confess the darkest parts of his passion to you and keeping you at a safe distance, like a porcelain doll on a shelf. New Year's Eve left him reeling, dizzy even as he slept beside you that night and you curled into him. You’re so good to him - far better than he deserves - and he can feel the lust radiating off of you whenever your kisses become heated. The devil whispers for him to let go, let you untether that beast inside him that he tries so hard to muzzle. The chain that holds him back weakens day by day, every moment you give him that look from across the couch or the dinner table he’s closer to ruin.

Which leads him to today.

You’ve popped by his office on your lunch break, standing by the windows and holding his hands in yours.

“Come over to my place tonight?”

He’s about to answer when there’s a knock on the door and it swings open. When he sees Secondo standing there he drops your hands as if burned and takes a step away from you.

“Mi scusi, I’ve interrupted something,” Secondo turns to leave but Copia calls out.

“No, no. Eh, nothing interrupted. She was just leaving - weren’t you, signorina?”

He immediately regrets his choice of words when he sees you jolt as if slapped at the cold tone of his voice and the return of your old title. Secondo’s sharp gaze flicks back and forth between you and him but he remains silent.

“Y-yeah. Okay. Sorry, Secondo. Goodbye, Cardinal.”

Ouch. He deserves that. As does he deserve the way you leave and shut the door behind you without a second glance back to him. Anxiety sinks heavy in his stomach as he lowers himself to slump on the end of his desk. He nearly forgets his fratello is there when the imposing papa clears his throat.

“Che cazzo, stronzo?” he barks, making Copia wince and fold in on himself. He’s not sure if it’s wiser to play dumb or fess up to his feelings but judging by the steely look in Secondo’s eye, he’ll take nothing less but the truth.

“It’s…a long story.”

“No it isn’t,” Secondo snarls, stalking over to him and jabbing him in the chest with a long finger. “You’re being chicken shit, aren’t you?”

Leave it to Secondo to suss out the reality of the situation in a heartbeat. Copia shifts himself out of poking distance and rounds the desk to collapse in his chair.

“I…eh…sì.”

Secondo crosses his arms and stares down at him imperiously.

Copia reaches up and rubs the bridge of his nose, unsure of how much detail to give him. Judging from the look on Secondo’s face, he wants to hear all of it.

“So we…got together. The night of the Yule gathering. I walked her back to her rooms and we… eh…made out along the way. We got to her place and she invited me in and I…I wanted to treat her as she deserves, sì? Flowers, dates, chocolates, the whole shebang. So I told her that. Then she–”

His voice cracks and he clears his throat, the mere memory of the incident enough to rile him up.

“She tells me she’s a virgin. A virgin, Secondo. Sathanas, I nearly grabbed her and had her in the damn hallway.”

Secondo makes a noise, his eyebrows rocketing up. He’s clearly not unmoved by this information either.

“So after that I…I try my best - my fucking best - to keep my composure. And maledetto inferno she did not make it easy, the little minx. And then I asked her out on a date. Our first. We went to Lucia’s on New Year’s Eve - came back, opened a bottle of champagne and well. Things escalated.”

“Did you…?”

“No,” Copia says hastily, “I mean…we didn’t do nothing but she remains ah…intact. Since then I-I don’t know what to do. The way she looks at me, the way she kisses me, touches me…”

“Fratello,” Secondo says, leaning against the wall and crossing his legs at the ankle, “forgive me but I’m not seeing the problem with a beautiful, young virgin desiring you.”

“No, no, no, that’s not it,” Copia says, “it’s not what she wants that scares me…it’s what I want. Secondo, I love her more than anything, desire her more than anything but…I’m afraid if she sees the extent of my passion, my obsession with her I’ll…I’ll drive her away. Like everyone else, sì? So I restrain myself at every turn.”

Secondo nods, quiet for a moment before speaking carefully.

“Copia, have you considered telling her any of this? That perhaps maybe sharing your fears with her - someone who loves you very deeply in return - will help alleviate your angst? Not to mention you’re probably driving the poor girl mad with lust, vecchio cane.”

Copia snorts and Secondo smiles.

“You two were so blind for so long, unwilling to see the feelings you had for one another when to everyone else it was obvious. She was made for you, and you for her. I’ve seen you chase after a few people over the years, fratello, and you looked at none of them the way you look at her. So tell her. Show her, for fuck’s sake. You know full well how many in this abbey would kill to be in your position, huh? Terzo, for one, which is why this stays between us, sì? You need to make your move before he catches wind of her…condition.”

Copia nods vigorously, heaving a deep sigh and tipping his head against the back of his chair.

“Grazie, Secondo. For listening, as you always have.”

Secondo nods solemnly before pushing himself off the wall and making to leave.

“W-why did you come in originally?” Copia asks.

Secondo shrugs and winks his white eye.

“Brotherly intuition. Ciao, Copia.”

With a little wave the papa is gone and Copia sighs.

He’d come see you tonight. It was now or never.

–

You make sure to stay out of Copia’s way the remainder of the day, more confused than angry. When he’s with you he’s hot and cold - professing his love but ultimately shying away from your touch - and when you’re around others, well. With Terzo he’s possessive, with Secondo he’s jumpy. What is going on in that head of his? Well. Doesn’t matter. You’ve already made your mind up to go to him tonight and sort things out. He’s got confession duty until eight which gives you plenty of time to…prepare. A shiver runs through your body at the implication that if you play your cards right, tonight could be the night. Perhaps…you look at the small bundle of keys on the lanyard around your neck, sorting through them to find a specific one. He gave you the key to his rooms last week. Perhaps he would be more ah…pliant…to your desires were you to simply be…waiting for him. You giggle, actually giggle aloud, in your empty office. He’s not going to know what hit him.

You’re distracted the rest of the day, head filled with plans and scenarios, and you move through your tasks mechanically. When Sister Imperator drops by to give you a heads up about another painting she bought at auction she gives you a curious look. She’s been kind of weird around you since after the break - looking at you shiftily during meetings - and you’d be unsettled by it were your head not already filled with other things. When she turns to leave your office, she casually tosses “why don’t you take the rest of the day, hmm?” over her shoulder. You sputter, baffled as to how she seemed to know, and she turns around to give you a tight smirk before leaving with her red stilettos tapping on the marble. You’re holding your breath watching her retreat down the hall and you look at your watch.

3:21 PM

You’ve got hours but there’s a lot you have to cram in before then. First to head to the dining hall and wolf down a meal, then to Primo for a restock of your…meds, then to your quarters to shower and figure out what you’re going to wear.

Better get going.

By the time you finish your tasks and return to your quarters, it’s 5:36 PM. You were waylaid by a group of siblings after you left Primo’s greenhouse who politely asked you to help them take pictures for the Ministry’s social media account. Dropping your keys and phone on the side table, you strip and leave a trail of clothes on the way to the bathroom. Your shower is swift but you still make sure to use your best smelling products. You go through your skincare routine and step out to look at the clock next to your bed.

6:17 PM

Shit. You feel like you're pushing it and you’re glad you ultimately decided not to wash your hair tonight. Padding out into your bedroom, you open your drawers and rifle through them. You wanted something that gave the impression you were…his for the taking. Something soft and well…virginal. When you pull a knee length cream colored silk nightgown out of your pajama drawer you make a loud noise of appreciation. A little wrinkled, maybe, but you doubt he would care. Tossing your towel on your bed you pull the slip over your head, shivering at the touch of the cool material. Your eyes travel to the top of your dresser and you spot your perfume - the one you know he loves - and give yourself a few spritzes before touching his gold grucifix on your collarbone. That should do it. But now you have to get from your quarters to his and somehow you think doing so in a thin nightgown isn’t the wisest decision so you grab your robe and wrap it snugly around you. Stepping into your slippers you walk out of your room and grab your phone and key, taking a deep breath.

It’s now or never.

The journey up the two floors to Copia’s quarters passes without incident, unless you count the siblings who saw your attire and gave you funny looks. Your hands are shaking - actually shaking - as you reach his door and unlock it, stepping inside. It’s dark.

“Shit,” you hiss, fumbling for the switch. When you manage to locate it and flip it on, the room is bathed in a soft yellow glow. His quarters are nice - not that yours are a dump, by any means - but the level of decorative detail has you inspecting every corner of his living space. Looking around you remove your robe and set it on a chair by the door. When you hear a few squeaks you shuffle over to the large rat cage in the corner, cooing at the little faces peering up at you. Stelline stands on her hind legs, nose snuffling in your direction.

“Hello, little loves,” you murmur, “I’ve got to be nosy for a second so you stay put, okay?”

When Stelline lets out a particularly loud squeak it makes you laugh so loud you clap your hand to your mouth. Before any more objections can be made you head to the other side of the room, past the wall of leaded glass windows, and through a doorway on the left. A small kitchen. Cute. Which means the other doorway leads…your heart thuds as you approach the darkened alcove and turn on yet another light switch.

Copia’s bedroom.

It feels forbidden to be in this space and you step in cautiously, expecting at any moment to get busted for breaking and entering. It’s a decent size room - bigger than yours - with dark wood paneling and tapestries on the walls. There’s an empty fireplace on the left and a large dresser, as well as a high backed chair. There’s a doorway which undoubtedly leads to his bathroom and…there it is. A large four-poster bed with dark red hangings and matching covers. You swallow thickly, stepping over to it. This could be it, you think, running your hands over the duvet. This could be the place where y—wait, what’s that?

There’s a scrap of black peeking out from under his pillow and curious, you reach for it. When you pull the item out, your jaw drops.

Those. Those are yours. Your…

“That little pervert!” you crow, veins flooded with warmth at the thought of what he did with your underwear. Your dirty underwear. Filthy man…filthy delicious man. Well who are you to deprive him of his simple pleasures, you think as you stuff the garment back under the pillow. Should everything go right tonight you’ll tease him about it…afterwards. Shaking your head you look down at your phone.

7:21 PM

Still got about forty minutes to kill, assuming confession doesn’t go over. Suddenly you’re kicking yourself for rushing all day and walk over to the chair to plop down. Hopefully a little time on your phone will pass the minutes.

You’re on your…how many games of solitaire was this?...when you hear the distinct sound of a key in a lock. You can feel the blood drain from your face as you set your phone aside and grip the arms of the chair. When he enters and shuts the door behind him, making his weird little noises, you can’t help but smile.

“Buonasera, i miei bambini!”

You can hear him scoot over to his rats, sighing deeply. He talks to them for a few moments before his footfalls begin to approach where you are. He’s got his biretta in hand as he spots you and stands frozen in the doorway, mouth agape.

“Hey,” you say, slowly rising out of the chair.

It takes him a moment to speak, too distracted by your outfit.

“Cara…” he breathes, setting his biretta down on his dresser, “I-I was going to come to you tonight.”

“Hmm, well,” you shrug, “beat you to it.”

There’s a ringing silence between the two of you, your heart thundering against your ribs. You take a step towards him.

“Copia, you don’t have to hold back. You don’t have to…have to hide from me. I love you. You know that.”

“Sì,” he whispers, “but do you know how much I love you? How I would do anything for you - to you - if you let me? Dolcezza I–”

“So what if I let you?” you ask, taking another step towards him. “What if I want you to? What if I’ve always wanted you to? What if you’re the only one I’ve ever–” you take two more steps towards him until you’re a breath apart, “--wanted to?”

He exhales shakily, breath stirring the hairs around your face.

“I’m giving you permission, Copia,” you breathe, “I want you to take, and take, and take from me until I have nothing left to give. I’m yours, my love. I’m–”

You don’t finish your declaration - don’t get a chance. Copia lunges at you like an animal, wrapping his arms around you drawing you snug against his chest with his lips pressed against yours. He’s never kissed you like this before - like a starving man - lips and teeth and tongue mingling with yours and peppered with groans and growls. He’s holding you so tight he squeezes the breath from your lungs as he nips at your throat, ravenous.

“Mine,” he growls, “amata mia. I’m going to make you sing, bellezza.”

When he licks along your carotid you gasp, and gently push at him.

“Let me undress you,” you breathe as you pant, “please Copia I want to see you.”

Copia pauses and pulls away to rest his forehead against yours before nodding. When he takes a step away from you, you mourn the warmth of his body.

“Go on, amore mio,” he murmurs.

“I-I don’t know where to start,” you confess with a smile. He offers his hands out to you.

“Here.”

This act alone is far more intimate than anything the two of you have done before. You know how he is about his hands and when you reach for them your own shake. Your fingers slide up the palm and wrist, taking the zipper and pulling. Gently, you ease each finger out of its sheath and pull the leather away. His hand is…beautiful. Large, freckled - like the rest of him - with a dusting of fine brown hair and–

“What happened?” you ask quietly, index finger tentatively brushing against the scar tissue in the center. “Copia is that–”

“Sì,” he answers simply and you reach for his other hand to repeat the process. You want to know, want to ask why but stay silent and save your curiosity for another time. Once the other one is bare you take them both in your hands and look at him.

“Beautiful,” you say softly, keeping your eyes on his as you raise each palm to your lips and place a firm, lingering kiss at the center. Some of the raw hunger leaves his eyes - replaced with utter adoration.

“What’s next?”

“This,” he points to his grucifix. It takes you a minute of peering at his pellegrina before you see where the bejeweled accessory is hooked. Delicately you detach it and set it on the dresser.

“Next?”

“My fascia,” Copia whispers, gesturing to his belt. When you loosen it from his waist, the long red material sliding through your hands, he watches you intently. You fold the garment up neatly and set it aside.

“Cassock?” you ask.

He nods, guiding your fingers to his neck. Each button feels like an eternity and by the time you reach his waist he can sense your quiet frustration.

“We can cheat with this one,” he murmurs, grabbing the sides and inching them up his body before pulling the garment over his head. When the red wool falls in a pile on the floor, you regard it fondly.

“I don’t know if I can wait any longer, amore,” he says, standing before you in his clerical shirt, suspenders, and trousers.

“One last thing, please,” you say before darting away and into the bathroom. You rummage around in the linen closet for a moment before pulling out a rag and turning on the sink. When you return to him with the soaked cloth he looks perplexed until you raise it to his face.

“If I’m going to see you naked,” you say, gently wiping away the paint on his right eye, “I want all of you naked.”

He chuckles, hands behind his back as you remove every bit of the Cardinal you can find. When you finish, he takes the rag from you and tosses it to the floor.

“On the bed, amata,” there’s a darkness, a self-assuredness in his tone that would feel almost foreign to you if you hadn’t heard it first on New Year’s Eve. It makes a shiver run down your spine as you step over to his bed. He follows, toeing off his shoes and reaching down to remove his socks, mismatched eyes watching you like a hawk as you clamber onto the red duvet. He pauses at the foot of the bed and slides his suspenders off his shoulders so they hang by his sides before unbuttoning the first few buttons of his clerical shirt to expose a pale sternum covered in more fine brown hair. You blink up at him before taking a deep breath, sitting up on your knees, and pulling the nightgown over your head. The garment falls to the rug in a whisper and there you are. Bare. Your heart is in your throat as you lean backwards against the pillows, presenting yourself to him.

Copia doesn’t look hungry anymore.

He looks feral.

When he presses his knee on the bed and slowly begins to crawl towards you, your breathing comes in pants. He urges your legs apart, spreading you open for him and eyeing the thatch of curls at the juncture of your thighs before situating himself between your knees.

“Dolcezza,” he growls, bare hands ghosting over your hips without actually touching you, “will you join me in prayer?”

Your mouth falls open.

“N-now?” His eyes fall to the heaving of your breasts as you continue to take ragged breaths. The drag of his gaze along every dip and swell of your body makes your face heat up.

“Sì, amore mio. For when else am I to give thanks to Sathanas for this most blessed gift? What better place than right–” he touches your knees, making you jump, “--here?” His hands slide up your thighs as he shuffles forward to loom over you, breath dancing with yours. Mismatched eyes bore into yours, the corner of his lips curled slightly in a wicked smile.

You nod.

“Unholy Father,” he begins before leaning down to slot his lips against yours. The kiss is unhurried, decadent even, and when his tongue slides hotly along yours you whimper into his mouth. The chuckle that reverberates into you has your body arching into his, eager for his touch. You think he’s about to do just that when he pulls away, a lewd string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“Today I give thanks for this–” he inhales deep through his nose “--glorious favor you have bestowed upon me, a most faithful son.”

He lowers himself towards you once more, to press open-mouthed kisses along your throat. With some hesitancy, you bring your hand up to his head and drag your fingers through his hair, causing him to groan. His tongue traces a path across your clavicle - briefly pausing to kiss the gold grucifix that rests there - and continues down your sternum.

“For what greater honor–” he pauses to suck at the swell of your breast, “--can you provide than an eager–” his lips drag torturously close to where you need him, “--willing–” his tongue darts out to graze the taut bud, “sweet–” he hovers over your nipple, eyes trained up on yours, and his hot breath makes you shiver, “--virgin.” When he finally, finally lowers his lips to slip the hardened bud into his mouth you let out a keening moan. He sucks hungrily, teeth teasing at it and tongue soothing the catch of bone on flesh.

“Copia, fuck,” you breathe, fingers buried in his hair to cradle him against you, “mmm just like that. Just like that, love.”

He rewards the endearment by bringing his hand up to your other breast and cupping the soft flesh in his large palm. When his thumb brushes over your nipple your hips buck again, and you can feel him smile against your skin. He wetly pulls off of you and you let out an undignified whimper at the loss.

“I have her heart,” he says, and you’re wildly confused for a moment before it dawns on you that he’s not done praying. The realization makes your head fall back against his pillows, your tongue sliding out to wet your lips. He’s abandoned your breasts now and has slid further down, hands on your waist.

“I have her mind,” he places a soft kiss to the curve of your belly once - and again - before sliding down even further.

“Her soul–” he kisses the underside of your stomach once more, his mustache tickling you, “--I’m working on—“

When he glances up at you with a grin you smile back, deliriously enchanted, “--and her body…”

His breath stirs the curls between your legs and your heart pounds. “...Is now mine.” The low, almost sinister tone of his voice makes you gasp, knowing full well what comes next.

“Nema.”

“N-nema.”

He bows his head in reverence and taking his thumbs, spreads you open and drags his tongue through your slick folds. The sensation sends a shockwave through you, your back arching off the mattress as you squirm.

“Copia!”

His hands fly to your hips, gripping and kneading the flesh as he continues to work his tongue against you. He’s content to lap at your entrance for a couple of minutes before dragging the muscle upwards slightly and–oh. When he curves the flat of his tongue along your swollen clit he really has to hold you down. Your fingers cling to the silvered brown strands on his head, holding him against you and through your lowered lids you can see his hips minutely grinding against the mattress. You’re laughing, high and breathy, as he flicks the tip of his tongue against you, better than your fingers or any vibrator. When he moans into your cunt, fingers digging into your flesh you gasp.

“Fuck, my love, right there. Don’t stop, don’t stop, Copia please.”

He grins against you, mouth returning to gather the slick at your entrance and the tip of his long, large nose grinding against your clit. The sensation is overwhelming as your body thrashes and, you think deliriously, he’s definitely going to leave marks with how firmly he’s holding you. When he pulls away from you - no doubt to catch his breath - he leans up on his elbows a little and gives you a wolfish grin.

“Dolcezza, what a sacrifice you make. Ave Sathanas.”

You laugh, grinning down at him as he returns to his task. When he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, again and again, you know it’s over. You’re babbling nonsense, sweet little words of praise at your lover, as you feel that familiar wave begin to crest inside you.

“Copia, oh fuck Copia I’m so close honey.”

He hums around you, hips continuing to rut into the duvet as he devours you. When you no longer have the ability to form words, you moan, higher and higher as you grip his hair and the covers. He pulls away slightly, making you cry out in desperation but when he returns he gently nudges the tip of his finger inside you. It’s not enough to make any real impact but the knowledge that he’s simply toying with you as you thrash below him has you letting out breathy, hysterical laughter.

“So good for your Cardinal,” he pants, and when you meet his gaze you can feel yourself clenching around his finger. “So tight for me and I haven’t even filled you yet. Tell me - did you use your own fingers while thinking of me?”

“Copia pl–”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chastises, licking his lips. “I won’t give you what you want until you answer me, amore mio.”

You’ve only seen glimpses of this side of him before - hints at what lurked below the surface but now that you’re being fully exposed to this Copia - self-assured and smug in his power - your hunger for him increases tenfold.

“Yes, I-I did.”

“How many?”

He asks the question with all the casualness of asking for the price of apples at the farmer’s market.

“D-depends. Sometimes two. Sometimes thre–ah!”

He doesn’t even let you finish before he’s easing a second finger into you, stretching you open.

“My fingers are much bigger than yours, amore,” he says as he begins to slide himself in knuckle deep. “We’ll start with two today to eh, warm you up, sì? Would you like that?”

He’s right - his fingers are a lot bigger than yours and when he pauses to gently crook them inside you your jaw falls open in a desperate moan.

“Y-yes. Yes! Fuck, Copia just like that. Please, my love, please.”

“You beg so prettily for me, dolcezza,” he growls, lowering his face to your cunt once more, “keep going.”

The sounds he draws out of you as he licks and sucks and fucks his fingers into you are unlike any you’ve made before. Somewhere in the back of your fuzzy mind you wonder if people passing by in the hallway can hear you but that only makes your hips buck into his touch even harder. You do as he asks and begs, promising him anything, anything as long as he doesn’t stop, please don’t stop. When you finally come apart, your muscles burn and you scream his name - fuck now you know someone heard that - as he presses against that sweet spot inside you. You don’t even notice him removing his mouth and pulling back so he can watch your face contort as you pant and sweat against his pillows. Your vision has gone blurry as you stare at the canopy above you, only somewhat aware of him sliding his fingers out of you and pulling back. You look up at him, sitting on his haunches looking both smug and full of affection, as he licks at the mess on his hand.

“C’mere,” you say, crooking a finger at him. He obliges with a smile, and when his face approaches yours you grab him by the back of the head and pull him in for a slow, wet kiss.

“Mm–like the taste of yourself, ragazza mia? Filthy thing.”

You can feel his cock nudging you through his pants and you grind upwards against him. He growls into your mouth before pulling away.

“Don’t finish me before I get started, amata,” he purrs, leaning down to run his tongue along your jaw.

You laugh.

“That wasn’t you getting started?” you marvel, and he pulls back to give you a lewd wink. “Take these off, my love. I want to see all of you.”

He nods, sliding backwards off the bed to stand. You watch him intently as he finishes unbuttoning and untucking his clerical shirt before unfastening his pants and sliding them and his underwear down to step out of them. He’s…gorgeous. You always knew he was but seeing him like this - bare and freckled, the brown hair on his body abundant - you sigh. Something dreamy and romantic sits on your tongue until your eyes travel to the juncture of his thighs and your mouth runs dry. He crawls on his hands and knees towards you, settling in between your legs and stroking his thick, reddened cock.

“You, eh. You like it?”

You nod dumbly, unable to form anything coherent. His body is clearer now in this light - he’s got a scar on the right side of his abdomen and on his left pectoral you see–

“A tattoo?!” you splutter loudly.

The self-satisfied smile on his face drops as he lets go of his cock and it bobs in front of him.

“Really? That’s what you’re focusing on?”

The ridiculousness of the whole situation hits you at once - the two of you nude, you being a virgin, him with his tattoo, both of you in this fucking Satanic abbey - and you tilt your head back and laugh. He growls and throws himself forward, caging you in underneath him.

“I show you my cock and you laugh?” he chastises you, mustache twitching as he fights back a smile. “Have some dignity, piccola vergine mia.”

Your laughter dies and you take in the flushed face of the man above you, strands of hair falling into his eyes.

“I love you.”

His eyes get misty, as do yours, as he reaches up to cup your cheek.

“Amata mia, dolcezza mia, vita mia, tutto mio. Ti amo. Per sempre.”

He leans down and places a sweet, soft kiss on your cheek before nuzzling into it.

“Are you ready?”

You cup his jaw and run your thumb over his cheekbone.

“Have your wicked way with me, Cardinale,” you smile, your hips shifting up against his. The drag of his wet cock against the heat of you makes him groan.

“Diavoletta mia,” he growls, leaning back and taking himself in hand. You spread your legs wider, still soaked from your earlier activities, and present yourself to him. When his cockhead prods at your entrance, you jump and his eyes fly to yours for confirmation. You nod and gently, slowly, he pushes himself in. There’s no pain, only pressure, as he slides in, his breathing ragged in an effort to maintain control. When he bottoms out, your bodies flush to one another, you pant up at him.

“Y-you okay?” he stammers, clearly trying his hardest to restrain himself. You watch a drop of sweat slide down his temple.

“Copia,” your voice is calmer than it’s been all evening, “don’t hold back.”

You feel his arms wobble on either side of you at your words as he slides nearly all the way out of you and pushes back in. He repeats the action, each thrust gaining more force than the last. The feel of him stretching you is divine, hypnotic, and watching him slowly come apart above you even more so. He’s moaning desperately with each slide of his cock, his eyes frantically searching yours.

“That’s it, baby,” you breathe, canting your hips upwards to meet his thrusts. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

When you experimentally clench around him he whines, his hands seeking yours to entwine your fingers. He fucks into you a little harder, little deeper with a shift of his hips, making you arch your back and press your breasts against him.

“S-so good,” he whimpers, “so tight, amore. So–ah–sweet for me, always.”

All you can do is moan in response as he jerks against you. You’re full - so deliciously full of him - and wildly you wonder how you went this long without him. This man that you adored so deeply - who adored you back - who always cared, always listened. You can feel tears prick the corners of your eyes and you whimper as you wrap your legs around his waist as tight as you possibly can. His movements are limited now by your actions but you don’t care - all you care about is keeping the two of you joined as close as possible.

“Amore, amore, amore,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours. Despite his thrusts no longer being quite as deep, they are no less forceful.

“Thank you,” you manage to eke out, “thank you. Vita mia. Mondo mio. You’re perfect.”

He chuffs out a noise between a sob and a pant, clearly moved by your use of language. The snap of his hips picks up and you can feel that pressure building inside of you once more.

“Copia,” you whimper, “Copia I’m close, I’m so close, don’t stop. Please, my love.”

His fingers tighten in yours, palms slick with sweat and you feel yourself falling, falling. Your cunt spasms around him as his thrusts become wild, erratic and you feel wave upon wave of pleasure spreading from your core through your limbs and into your fingertips. It’s different from your usual orgasms - less violent, less frantic - but no less intense. You can feel the tears sliding down into your hair as you buck up against him, desperate to wring out every last moment of the feeling.

“Cara,” Copia’s voice is hoarse, “I’m–I’m going–”

“Let go. Show me how much you love me, Copia.”

Your command is all the permission he needs and lets out a low, broken moan of your name as his hips spasm into yours and you feel his seed pulse inside of you. Idly, you think about how glad you are that you visited Primo before this. You look up at the man on top of you and reach up to push his hair out of his eyes. His eyes are bright, white eye glowing, as he shakes and struggles to hold himself up. Gently, you ease him to the side, making sure to keep the two of you joined as he collapses next to you. You’re simply not ready to let go yet. The two of you tremble in each other’s arms, content to bathe in the heavy emotion. Your tears have dried and now a calm washes over you.

“Hey,” you murmur, fingers raking through Copia’s sweaty hair. He’s watching you carefully - every dart of your eyes and twitch of your cheeks - as if he’s anticipating something.

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching out to run his thumb over your bottom lip. “So was that, eh. Satisfactory?”

You snort and tug lightly at his hair.

“I think I can now say I’ve been thoroughly and successfully ravished, Cardinal. This must be quite a feather in your cap. You’ve made your Unholy Father proud.”

Now it’s his turn to snort.

“Just be thankful no one else found out about your, eh, former condition. You’d have had clergy and siblings and ghouls all lined up for you.”

“Oh,” you begin with a not-so-innocent tone, “so that’s why you romanced me, huh? Wanted first dibs?”

“Cara, no,” Copia says, deadly serious all of a sudden, “this isn’t–I would never–”

You laugh, dragging your fingers through his chest hair.

“My love, it’s been almost a year, I thought you’d be used to my stupid jokes by now.”

“Ah!” he rolls his eyes and waves at you dismissively, making you laugh even harder.

You finally have to separate, his softened cock sliding out of you as you push backwards. When you try to swing your legs over the bed and stand a hand wraps around your bicep and hauls you back down to bounce on the mattress.

“And where do you think you’re going, signorina?”

“Well I was gonna go pee and then–”

Quick as a cat, he rolls onto you, grinning down at you.

“Bellezza mia,” he purrs, “I hope you didn’t make plans for the next few days. We have, eh, lots of time to make up for. And you,” he leans down and runs his tongue over your pulse point, feeling it thunder against your skin, “have so much to learn.”

When the two of you text Sister Imperator with suspiciously matching illnesses the next morning, she smiles to herself.

All in Lucifer’s plan.

#curator reader series #cardinal copia #cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #rachel writes

285 notes · View notes