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etfrin · 7 months

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⤷❝Mine To Love | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | Snow is his own warning, mentions of killing, mentions of caging/locking you up (doesn't do it though), hair pulling, breath play if you squint, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), pinv sex, blowjob, male masterbation, cunnilingus, mating press, mentions of Lucy Gray, no spoilers | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: Snow realizing his feelings for you, being fucked up about it and fucks you!

⇢☾A/N: don't romanticize, it's dark romance so y'all are warned! This is set in the same au as The Study (you don't have to read it beforehand but it's recommended)

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune > <tag list>

It started slowly, so slow that Snow didn't even realize it. It started with that night in the study after he had you. He didn't touch you again, denying himself of you. You, his wife, a little bird stuck in a cage. The First Lady of Panem was nothing but a doll, a showcase piece for the country.

You played the role well enough, but you weren't a doll at all. You brought life in what was otherwise a stone-cold mannor. The workers cook your favorite, making sure you're the most well-accommodated. Like a Queen. How their shoulders relax and the smile that springs up when they do the tasks that you assigned them. You earned their respect and their loyalty.

You were dangerous yet harmless. It baffled Coriolanus to no end. It started slow. He coincidentally met you in the hallways more and more. After that night, you couldn't make eye contact with him, no longer did you greet him with an awkward hello or a shy smile.

You look down at the floor whenever he passes you by, your body flushing from the mere second of proximity. So obvious and adorable. He loved how easy you were to read, how open you were. Whatever your lips hide, your eyes show. Whatever your soul hides, your body shows.

It started slow. The monthly dinners with the First Lady turned weekly. Every Sunday now he had you sit across him for dinner and he would ask you about your day. Just to be polite, mind you, don't look into it. He would be annoyed by those one-word answers but would never show it. His fingers subtly grasped the glass of wine tighter than he should, his heart pricking his brain into paranoia. ‘What else?’ he wanted to ask, ‘Stop saying it was good. Tell me what made it good.’

Instead of uttering those words, cameras were placed on every inch of the manner with the audio functions so everything is recorded for his and only his view. He watched you walking through the library, your fingertips touching the spines of the books you already read (which was most of them), you didn't even realize new books were added to the collection, all similar to the ones you liked. He watched you stroll the gardens, your face in a frown at the neverending white roses. A red rose and several other flowers were added the next day.

It started slow. He began to talk about his day more and more trying to fill a silence. He started asking for your opinion and oh, how that lighted your eyes up that you were finally doing what you were meant to do. Supporting him not as a doll but as a wife. You begin to talk about your days more, trusting him with your day-to-day activities. You tell him about friends and family, something he wasn't interested in (he has files on every single person you mentioned).

The nights that were dedicated to his needed sleep turned into the witching hours in which he would stroke his cock over the memory of you. His mouth biting into the pillow to stop his groans, hearing them would mean admitting his need for you and he rejected that notion. His cock was oversensitive because he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop fucking into his fist, again and again thinking about you. Not just your pussy but you. Your desperate moans, your lips marking his neck, your slick walls, and everything of you. Your tears, your head on his chest when he had fucked you. Everything.

He wanted to pin you against a wall. He wanted to bend over during dinner. He wanted you on his lap in his study. He wanted to push you to the bed and fuck you until the bed breaks. He wanted you!

The realization made him spill onto his bed sheets for the nth time. A gasp escaped his lips as he realized how deeply you are rooted in him now. He needed to kill you. He can't afford this again. Whatever this is. Obsession? Love? Was there ever a difference? He needed this to end.

‘You don't deserve to be loved,’ he thinks, you were no Lucy Gray after all, you were different. You could never compare to his first and only (not anymore) love. But he had caged you, he had you and knew your every move. The rumors that spread of cheating were seized along with the man who flirted with you. True to your words, you hadn't fallen to the temptations of the Capitol, rejecting their offers politely rather than basking in their attention like before.

‘Good,’ he thought, he had killed everyone who had touched you and it was hard to hide the evidence. “I am so much better than her,” he muttered, “I could do so much better.” He asked himself, ‘Why? After all the promises I made to myself of never repeating the mistake.’

He didn't get a reply but he dreamt of you.

Breakfast had passed, lunch too, he hadn't seen you once today. A quick peek at his monitors showed that you were sleeping in your room. He clenched his jaw, a part of him hating you for sleeping in because it deprived him of seeing you. A part of his heart warmed because your hair was a mess, the shirt you were wearing while sleeping was his, and you looked so darn pretty.

Coriolanus convinced himself that he was going to your room to wake you up. Nobody should sleep this late into the day. It wasn't healthy, and he needed the First Lady to remain healthy. That was all.

He stepped into the room, his footsteps quiet so he didn't alert you. He sits down on the bed, your sleeping figure beside him. Your mouth had dried drool on the corners which made him disgusted but amusement all the same. His hand went to your cheek, he couldn't control the action of his thumb stroking your cheek.

“I should lock you up forever,” he whispered as softly as possible, almost inaudible. “In this room, so no one can see you but me.”

He knew by now his thoughts weren't normal and it would never be. That's him and he had accepted himself. He leaned in closer, his lips inches away from yours. He stopped right before he closed the gap. He takes a deep breath, taking in your scent before pulling back.

His hand goes to your shoulder, he shakes you. “Wake up, bird,” he said, his eyes softening when he saw you wake up and peer at him with confused eyes. You yawn, and sit up, your eyes wide when you look at him. You rub them with your hand and blink.

“Is there anything wrong, Coryo?” You asked softly, “Anything I can do to help.” “You should shower and eat first,” he said instead, “and next time don't sleep in. I don't like indiscipline.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, “I was finishing a book.” Your eyes flicker to him, “It's nice by the way! I will tell you about it during dinner.” He wanted to hear about it now, he wanted to pull you closer and kiss your lips, he wanted to push you into the mattress and breed you. He wanted to clean you up after and feed you every kind of feed.

He clenched his jaw, trying to get rid of such thoughts. “We'll see,” he said before walking out of the room, accidentally slamming the door. The first sign of Snow losing control.

The second sign of Coriolanus losing control was how his breath hitched when he saw you during dinner. You are wearing yet another one of his shirts (how do you even get your hands on them) and that's it. A white shirt that reached your knees, you had forgone pants and opted for shorts that couldn't even be seen. Your legs were in complete view, the same legs he wanted wrapped around his waist.

He didn't say a single comment even when it was clear you were waiting for one. ‘Were you trying to seduce him?’ he thinks, ‘Or something else.’ He felt paranoid about you wearing his shirt. Did you want him? Want him to bend you over, press your face onto the table and fuck you like you were an animal?

He felt his pants getting tighter from his thoughts, flashes of what he could do to you, what he had done to you. He couldn't focus as you talked during dinner, he made a mental note to watch the cameras later to know the words you had blessed him with.

It hits him like a wave when dinner ends and you come to him with a book. Tabs were spilling out and it was a hardcover of an old classic that he had to read during the academy.

“You once told me that you liked this book, I spent last night annotating it! I did a few finishing touches before dinner…”

That explains your attire, you were busy formatting this gift for him. He took the book from your hand, he wanted to throw it across the room, he wanted to set it on fire. It was now his most precious treasure, more important than Panem itself.

The truth he denied washes over him. Making him take a sharp breath and your eyebrows etch together in concern. He had once a girl dedicate songs for him, now he had a wife dedicating booms for him. ‘It would be a mistake,’ he told himself, ‘It won't be a mistake if I don't repeat the past.’

The desires he shoved at the back of his mind sprang forward and he made a decision. The third sign of Coriolanus surrendering to himself was that he had everyone including the guards leave the dining room. Making your eyes widen from the sudden instruction.

“Is there anything wrong-” you begin to ask before Snow interrupts you. “Here is what's going to happen now. You're gonna be on your knees, you'll take my cock in your mouth and you'll make me cum. Then I will take you to our room and I'll fuck you until you can't remember your name.”

You blink once, twice just staring into his eyes that revealed nothing before you went closer to him and got down on your knees for him. “Like this?” You asked, breathless, your cheeks flushed. He smirked, “Exactly like this, pet.”

“Now part those pretty lips for me,” he said as he unzipped his pants and set his hard cock free. He lets out a chuckle as he sees you eyeing his cock like a long-lost lover. Guess he wasn't the only one thinking about that time.

You part your mouth wide enough for him as he pushes his cock in slowly. No matter how desperate he was a gentleman for his wife. He knew better than to gag you. He stopped when his cock had completely disappeared, his length engulfed into your wet, hot mouth.

He throws back his head as his dick hits the back of your throat. He relishes the sound of your choking around his length. He lets out his groan, trying his hardest not to cum down your throat so soon. His hand is in your hair, keeping you in place like an obedient pet.

You try your best to take in a deep breath as your tongue swirls around his length as much as possible. You weren't the best at blowjobs, but you knew the sloppier the better. Saliva ran down your cheek as you tried your best to focus on his cock underside, your tongue dragging itself across a pulsing vein that reached his cockhead.

You moan around his length as the taste of pre-cum bursts in your mouth. You close your eyes and try your best, bopping your head up and down. You clenched your fist, trying your best not to gag when his cock gets deeper into your throat.

Meanwhile, Snow was a wreck of a man, the heat of your mouth ruining his capability of having coherent thoughts. You were sucking his soul through his dick it seemed to him. His fingers tangled in your locks, gripping your hair tighter as a way to anchor himself to reality.

His blue eyes dilated to almost black as he looks at you taking his cock so well. Like you were made for it. Made for his cock. Made for him. Meant to be his wife, his bird, his pet, and his love. It's destiny, he decided as he pulls you off his cock and uses his suit sleeves to wipe your mouth and chin.

‘Everything leads to this,’ he thought, as he pulled you onto his lap and pressed a kiss to your lips. The saltiness of his taste in your mouth does not deter his tongue from tasting you.

“Go to my- our room,” he whispered to you as he broke the kiss. “I'll be there soon,” he promises as he nuzzles into your neck, his lips kissing your skin. You nod and get off his lap. Your feet drag you into his room.

Meanwhile, Coriolanus takes a deep breath, trying to maintain whatever pathetic excuse of sanity he had held. It didn't work. His cock was hard enough to hurt and his brain made him think. He thinks of removing you, he thinks of keeping you. He thinks of plans to protect you, backup plans to make sure you remain untouched while still maintaining the image of the First Lady. His true possessiveness and obsession flares up in his mind.

‘It won't be a mistake if I don't repeat the past,’ he told himself, repeating that line to his head.

He takes a deep breath, a glance at the cameras shows workers and guards kept the halls clear and you were in his room and on his bed waiting for him. Waiting for him to ravish you as you kept playing with the buttons of the shirt, and your underwear on the floor. Your face was crimson but your lower lip was in a darker shade of red with how much you bitten it because of nervousness.

He lets out a huff of air before adjusting himself accordingly. Coriolanus Snow was many things, gentlemen included and gentlemen don't keep their ladies waiting.

You freeze as he enters the room. You swallow nervously, your fingers pausing on the shirt button you were playing with. He glances at the panties that were on the floor and he gives you a little smirk. “Take it all off, my wife,” he said as his hands worked to undress him. His suit was on the floor, his shirt joining it soon enough.

You have to press your thighs together as you see his skin again, a whimper escaping your lips at the sight. He was so beautiful, craved by the angels, breathed to life by the devil. Soon, his pants and boxers were getting ridden off.

You check him out, your gaze hungry. Your fingers shake with desire as you take off your (his) shirt. You let it fall, exposing yourself completely to him, like he did for you. His eyes rack you up, causing a flush to every visible inch of your skin.

“Open your legs,” he said, as he walked closer and got down on his knees for you. “I am hungry,” he said, while his lips pressed to your knee and his lustful eyes bewitched you. You had to bite your tongue to not let a moan from his mere words. You spread your legs wide, letting your cunt come into his view.

Your folds that were glistening with your arousal and your slit which was the cause of your juices fluttered around nothing from his gaze. “Exquisite,” he had whispered, the praise warming you up and making your pussy clench harder. “Eager too,” he chuckles, looking up at you but you refuse to meet his gaze.

“Have your meal,” you mumbled, embarrassed. He pressed a wet kiss to your inner thigh, making your breath hitch from the contact. A sharp moan escapes when he bites, his teeth digging into the flesh and your hand falls onto his hair. Your fingers grip the blonde locks but you don't try to push him away. Your legs tried to close around him, but his hands made sure to keep them spread as he liked it.

He pulled away, admiring the mark before he pressed another wet kiss to it. His fingers grip your thighs, they hold tight enough to leave marks too.

He takes in a deep breath, nuzzling into your thigh. Your primal scent makes him go wild, his nail digging into your skin as he brings his lips closer to your pussy. One swipe of his tongue onto your folds and he groans louder than you have ever heard him to do so.

“You taste like fucking candy,” he lets out, as his nose bumps into your clit, his tongue messily swirling around your folds, gathering as much of your juices as possible. Your legs were all on his shoulders now as he all but pressed his face, burying himself in your cunt. He takes in a deep breath through his mouth before he begins to ravish you properly.

His mouth taking in your entire pussy and sucking it with such devotion it made you see stars. He laps at your pussy, his tongue never stopping to devour you. You pulled him even closer, your thighs closing around his head. The action only made him. You couldn't see it, but his eyes rolled back from the lack of air and your taste that quickly became his favorite.

His teeth pulled at the outer lips of your pussy, making you cry out and gush more juices. He licks it all up. Before his attention goes to your little bud, his mouth kisses it at first. Then he takes your clit into his mouth to suck without any mercy.

It makes you cry out, the soles of your feet digging into his back as your hips begin to rut against his face. You have no control over your actions. You were gripping his hair so tight you were afraid that you tore away a few strands. Overwhelming pleasure attacked all of your senses as he didn't stop his merciless actions.

You arch your back, your lips moaning his name as heat begins to gather in your body. You cry out, “Close! Coryo! Fuck!” Pleads begin to leave your mouth as your hips grind faster, your clit nudged his nose as his tongue is now inside your walls, fucking you with his tongue.

Your eyes widen, and you let out a silent scream when his teeth nip your swollen clit. You lay on the bed, panting as your pussy cums on his face. Your arousal makes a mess on his face which makes you even more slick when he pulls back and gets on top of you.

You looked into his eyes, his cold blue eyes that were nearly black now. He was panting, both of your breaths mixing into the air. With whatever senses you have left, you use your palm to clean up some of the mess on his face.

As soon as you finish up, he holds your hand. His mouth on your palm with broad strokes of his tongue he licks the remaining of your juices clean. “Can't let it go to waste, my bird,” he whispered to you as he leaned down. His body caging yours or were you caging him down with your legs around his waist? He pressed a kiss to your cheek. Sweet and gentle, and so unlike him but you don't dare question his affections. May it be sweet or savory, you accept it with your arms wide open.

“Want you,” you whispered to him. “You'll have me when I see fit,” he replied, his mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck before they reached the flesh of your breasts. One of his hands squeezed your breast and his thumb rubbed circles on your nipple. His lips paid attention to the underside of it, licking the skin around the round flesh before his teeth sank in making you gasp. He sucks harshly, his hold on your breast getting rougher as he forms the mark on your skin. When he's assured that a hickey will be formed, his lips pull back and he presses a kiss to the mark.

“You're mine,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin before he takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks just as harshly as before. You moan, “Yours, Snow!” Your hands on his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh. His fingers play and squeeze your other breast while he continues to suck your bud. Your cunt despite having a previous earthsharing orgasm begins to pulse with need. You whimper, “Corio, please!”

Coryo pulls away, his eyebrows etched in annoyance, as much as he likes to hear you beg, he would rather focus on his task of marking you up. He leans up and presses his lips to you. You moan into his mouth as you taste yourself on his tongue. Your fingers tangling themselves into his curls bringing him even closer to you. He breaks the kiss, “I'll teach you to be obedient later, my pet.”

You let out a whimper when he pressed a hard kiss against your lips. His hands travel down to your hips. “Get ready,” he whispered to you, “I meant my words.” I'll fuck you until you can't remember your name. Remembering his earlier words, you whine loudly, “Please!”

His hand grips your hip tightly as his other hand holds his hard cock and guides it to your entrance. Just to be a little tease, he swipes his mushroom tip all over your cunt, his cockhead bumping your swollen clit making you arch your back and your nails dig into his flesh harder, making him moan as well.

He finally pressed his tip into your slit, his cock gliding in smoothly because of how wet you were. He groans as his dick gets sucked into warmth. His head is between the space of your shoulder. He was panting, his hot breath hitting your skin as he pushed in inch by inch. Your hands are on his back, your legs around his waist as you encourage him to go deeper into you with your soft moans.

His teeth sink into your neck to stop a groan, as his cock reaches your deepest spot. While your nails drag themselves across his back to create red lines. Both of you finding ways to anchor yourself to reality, to not go insane with the pleasure you find in each other.

“Move,” you plead, “Please, Coryo, need you to fuck me. Need you!” Snow decided to have mercy on you both, his hips began to move shallowly, and he refused to completely pull back. He refused the concept of depriving his dick of your sweet, wet pussy. “Faster,” you beg, his deep thrust hits at your every spot, some you didn't even know existed. It fried at your senses, your mind going haywire, your body getting desperate for another release.

“No,” he barks near your ear, his mouth biting your earlobe before he begins to kiss your jaw and then to your collarbone. His lips suck purple and blue bruises on your skin while his hips grind into you. Making you go dizzy and insane with how his cockhead kept grazing your g-spot.

“Please, please,” you babble, “You're fucking me so good, Coryo! I can't take it, please! Fuck me harder, love!” His hips had stopped moving as he heard your words. His head leaned up to you, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, “What did you say?”

You looked straight into his eyes, not hiding the love you had for him, letting it flow through your words and your body. “Love,” you whispered, your lips pressing a delicate kiss that could shatter everything you had built with Snow. “I love you,” you whispered. One of your hands moves to his cheek, caressing him. “You don't have to do anything in return, just know that I love you.” You smile at him, knowing it's more likely that he won't ever return your feelings.

You prepared yourself for a harsh rejection but instead, his hips begin to move again. Harder, faster than before, his cockhead kissing your cervix with his thrusts, his fingers digging into your hips marking it. You won't be able to walk later but that didn't matter.

What mattered was how perfect Coriolanus had begun to fuck you. No, it wasn't a fuck. This was something more. Something changed with your confession, something changed and will remain changed for the rest of both of your lives.

One of his hands reached upward, his fingers snaking around your throat. He pressed it in, not enough to block your breathing but enough to make you lightheaded. Your pussy which was already tight, clenched around him further making him groan right against your ear.

“Lover indeed,” he whispered, his words that you nearly missed, your heart understood what he meant. You gasp, “Kiss me.” You knew that even without him saying those words, he could love you all the same.

Snow complies, his lips clashing with yours. His hips rutting into you as his hands guide your legs into the mating press position, making you cry out into the kiss as his cock reaches even deeper than before causing a small bump into your stomach that neither of you notices.

The kiss got open-mouthed, desperate with how his tongue tangled with yours. It was filth filled with the pathetic, insanity of love you both felt for each other. His thrusts got faster, and sloppier as he was close to his end. Your cunt pulsating around his length as you too were close to shattering again.

What it took for both of you to reach the end was him breaking the kiss to whisper, “I should kill you. I should kill you for making me a lovesick fool again.”

The words even when you know can mean your doom makes you cum like nothing else. Your lips cry out as your walls begin to milk his cock for what it's worth. He groans into your mouth, letting himself feel your fluttering cunt before he thrusts into you once, twice, and finds his release. His cock spilling into you, his cum painting your insides white, marking you.

He pulls out, his back covered with scratches, his curls clinging to his forehead and his lips swollen from the kisses. You looked just as much of a mess as he did, with marks all over your body.

He thinks to himself as he lies beside you. He wasn't going to kill you now. Not in ten years or fifty but your end would only be when he decides.

He loves you after all, in his twisted way.

tags : @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @justacaliforniandreamer

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maxiglow · 2 months

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starting the week in a good mood

weekly review and preview

on sunday evening or monday morning, take some time to review the past week's accomplishments and reflect on what went well and what could be improved. then, preview the new week's schedule and tasks. this will help you be mentally prepared for what's ahead and adjust your plans if needed.

set weekly priorities

determine a top three to five priorities for the week and keep your focus aligned with your most important goals, making you more prone to have adequate time and resources to them throughout the week.

organize your workspace

it's very important to start monday with a clean and organized desk, anyone who already did it knows well. being physically organized helps reduce stress and improve your ability to focus and be productive.

create a motivational ritual

my favorite! begin your week with a motivational ritual. this could be reading an inspiring quote, listening to a particular song that uplifts you, or writing down somethings you are grateful for.

initiate a positive interaction

our first steps through the day can really affect the mood of our whole day (it's scientifically proven!!), so try starting your week with a positive interaction with your family, friends or colleagues. this, aside from maintaining a good relationship and being good to everybody, will also boost your mood.

start with a small win

choose a small, manageable task in the very beginning of monday and complete it. it'll give you an immediate sense of achievement and set a positive tone for the rest of the week.

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thatgirlie-diaries · 7 months

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My weekly reset routine

Hello girlies! After some days offline I come back with this blog, I will be telling you quickly my every Sunday "Weekly reset routine" which is popular among girlies like us, isn't it? For me, this is the first day of my weeks and probably the most important one, since I get relaxed, taken care of and I reflect on what to focus next. I hope it inspires you in case that you don't have a routine like this, and if you do I hope that it's working well for you!

My routine

Tidy up and clean all my space: Includes the kicthen (that's my assigned section between my family), my bedroom and my bathroom. While cleaning downstairs I listen to a podcast and in my room I listen lo-fi playlist.

Begin the laundry: Every week I do my laundry, every two weeks I also add my bedsheets.

Do my full shower routine: I use shampoo, hair mask and conditioner. After, I use my cleanser and face exfoliant. To finish I use my soap, body exfoliant and shave my legs and armpits. I listen to new albums every time while showering.

Post-shower routine: I do the rest of my skincare routine, dry my hair, apply cream on my body, get comfy clothes and check my nail polish.

Tidy up my clothes

Plan and reflect: 1.How was last week? 2. I plan next week goals and tasks 3.Add calendar events 4. Revise my routines and schedule 5. Check my budget

Digital detox: Eliminate any unnecessary data on my laptop and cellphone, mostly.

My post-routine

Light a candle and listen to frequency music: I listen mostly to heal my feminine energy and positive vibes

Practice journaling: I look out for prompts or I express my feelings, I have a new journal book and I prefer now to do it by hand.

Say positive affirmations in the mirror: I get them from pinterest! I have cried twice by now, it has helped me with my inner dialoge, concept and steem.

Practice meditation and yoga: I normally practice between 20-30 minutes, for me is more than enough and actually helps me relax and maintain my mental health. I recommend you Jessica Richburg in Youtube.

Watch a movie: I really love to watch movies! So now every Sunday I make some popcorn and get cozy in my sofa to watch one. Right now I'm into chick films, they are really funny and inspire me alot.

See you girlies, time to enjoy my sunday! 𑄽𑄺ྀ

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stylesharrys · 19 days

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Y/N’s never been with a man like Harry before. (Blurb)

A/N: I haven’t posted any content on here for a while (but I’m working on it I promise), so here’s a little blurb for you darlings — I’m also opening up requests again so if you have any blurb ideas, feel free to send them in <3

For as long as she could remember, Y/N had always done everything when it came to relationships. The cooking, the cleaning, the date planning — all of it. It was never like that in the beginning, of course. Most men would love-bomb and tell her everything she wanted to hear. She’d never realise until it was too late.

That’s how it always happened.

And yet, she always allowed herself to forget those signs whenever she met someone new. Always told herself that it wasn’t fair to pre-judge anybody and that perhaps that’s just how they were and it wasn’t an act.

It was foolish, really — her way of thinking. Because time and time again, they always proved her wrong, always left her feeling alone and unappreciated until she finally bucked up the courage to call it quits and leave.

She tried to be more weary of it when she met Harry. She found herself mentally scrutinising every word he spoke, every promise he made. She’d lock everything away in a safe in her mind that she’d go back through if he ever slipped up or started showing signs that he wasn’t who he portrayed himself to be when they first met.

But that day didn’t come, it still hadn’t.

In Y/N’s most recent relationship, she’d never been so low. She’d stupidly agreed to move in with James and from there, it went downhill pretty fast. He never cleaned up after himself, ever. His damp towels would be left on the bathroom floor, his empty beer bottles and candy wrappers would be left on the counter instead of in the bin, and the one time he did wash the dishes after dinner, he made a right cock out of it.

Weaponised incompetence was what she remembered her mother calling it. When somebody purposely carries out a task poorly as to not be asked to do it again.

He didn’t cook, had no idea how to use the washing machine and at one point made it blatantly clear that because he worked, he shouldn’t have to come home and do chores around the house after.

That was the cherry on top for her. Because Y/N worked, too. She worked the same kind of hours and still did everything in the home and cleaned up after him day in and day out.

When her and Harry first started dating, she kept her heart close to her chest. She was far too afraid of making the same mistakes as last time, of wasting time and energy into someone who isn’t willing to give her one-hundred percent back.

But Harry did.

Harry cooked on nights that Y/N cleaned and vice versa. She never once had to ask him to pick up his damp towel or put his rubbish in the bin. Harry just did these things. He changed the sheets on his own accord, he did more laundry than Y/N and he enjoyed a weekly Sunday deep clean with her, blaring music and lighting a candle at the end of it.

Tonight was no different. She came home from work a little later than usual and dinner was already waiting for her on the table. Harry had remembered she texted earlier in the day that she was feeling under the weather, and prepared her some chicken soup with buttered rolls for as soon as she got home.

A bubble bath was run and fresh pyjamas were warming in the dryer. The floors had been hoovered and mopped, the laundry was folded and hung in the wardrobes and the trash had been taken out.

The realisation of something that happened every day hit her tonight for some reason. Perhaps because Harry picked up the chores she typically did as well, or maybe because he thought of her and did the dinner and bath to make her life a little easier.

Either way, it had tears stinging her vision and her heart thumping. It was silly, really. She was getting emotional over her partner doing the bare minimum — him pulling his weight and keeping their home clean.

“What’s a’matter?” His gentle voice cooed from across the table.

Y/N smiled tearily, taking a bite out of her roll as she shook her head. She didn’t want to make a thing out of this — she knew he’d only laugh at her and call her a numpty. (Which in this instance, she was.)

“Nothing, I just appreciate this a lot,” she swallowed her food as the tears began to dry.

Harry squinted at her, not quite buying what she was saying. “Y’sure? If the soups bad, you can be honest and tell me. Promise I won’t get too upset.”

She laughed at him, shaking her head. “I just hope you know how much I appreciate and acknowledge what you do in our home and our relationship. Thank you for not leaving everything on my shoulders.”

Harry’s face softened into one of adoration, like he couldn’t believe she was thanking him for doing what any responsible adult should. But he understood. She’d told him about her exes, about how she felt like their mother ninety percent of the time.

Harry couldn’t imagine ever being like that.

“I appreciate and acknowledge everything you do, too. Know you’ve had a rough day, didn’t want you coming home to stuff to do. You can have your soup, take a long bath and I even charged your Kindle.”

Y/N smiled at him, lovingly. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” Harry’s words were sincere, and she knew he meant what he said. “Oh, and I cancelled the plumber for tomorrow, so you can still get your nails done.”

She frowned, finishing the last of her soup. “Why? Did he come out today?”

“No,” Harry shook his head. “I sorted it.”

Y/N quirked a brow. “Sorted it as in…”

“As in I fixed the leak. You don’t need to hire maintenance people for the house, babe. If you notice something needs fixing just let me know and I’ll sort it.”

His statement shouldn’t have made her feel hot inside but it did. A man that would actively repair their house and not batter an eye or complain about it? That would do it without being asked?

Now, why the fuck did that turn her on?

Tag list:

@kissfromadove @stilesissaved @kiwitsayedsugar @savannahwendel @triski73 @stylesfever

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #imagine harry styles #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles angst

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bunkoos-mole-enthusiast · 11 days

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Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs

Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. 🔞 Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors:) Sleepwalking: Due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend's band. You thought you've both made peace with it, but suddenly he's very eager to prove to you that first love never dies. https://taexual.tumblr.com/post/728185560199577601/sleepwalking-1-jjk

I'd Love To Stay But That's Simply Insane: Jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you're a goal-oriented top student that's known his rich and complicated family since childhood. You don't want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do. https://taexual.tumblr.com/post/616477412997414912/id-love-you-to-stay-but-thats-simply-insane

Pub Golf: One night. One stupidly hot man, who just keeps appearing in every pub you go to. Six friends. Nine pubs. Nine drinks. Ten million stupid rules. Let the chaos begin. https://taleasnewastime.tumblr.com/post/667208016185212928/summary-one-night-one-stupidly-hot-man-who-just

Yes Coach: You play in a local netball team and as a new season starts you have a new coach. Enter Jungkook, he may look soft, but he turns out to be a hard taskmaster, one who ruffles your feathers when he makes some changes to the team. Tensions grow between you through the weeks, until they finally reach breaking point. https://taleasnewastime.tumblr.com/post/653257951195365376/yes-coach

Tempter: 𝐓hey told tales of the twilight creature to the loveless ones that roamed the woods at the sun’s setting hour. When the orange rays crept through the living, breathing trees and painted the soil gold, made the poison ivy too beautiful and inviting to 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩. They spoke of a beauty that they could not describe, of a voice that reflected the purity of heaven alongside the burning fires of hell as he prayed upon them. https://themfchase.tumblr.com/post/615289283146842112/%F0%9D%90%93%F0%9D%90%84%F0%9D%90%8C%F0%9D%90%8F%F0%9D%90%93%F0%9D%90%84%F0%9D%90%91-%F0%9D%98%9B%F0%9D%98%A9% F0%9D%98%A6-%F0%9D%98%9B%F0%9D%98%B8%F0%9 D%98%AA%F0%9D%98%AD%F0%9D%98%AA%F0%9D%98%A8%F0%9D%98%A9%F0%9D%98%B5-%F0%9D%98%8A%F0%9D%98%B3%F0%9D %98%A6%F0%9D%98%A2%F0%9D%98%B5%F0%9D%98%B6%F0%9D%98%B3%F0%9D%98%A6-jjk

Raven Unit: With your life at risk and several people around you dead, your loyal head of security makes sure your safety is taken care of when he’s out of the picture. Three ruthless, dangerous and deadly men take on the task to protect and hide you, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok and the one in command, Jeon Jungkook. https://themfchase.tumblr.com/post/189288109708/raven-unit-i-m-jjk

Hate Me: You really do hate Jeon Jungkook. You hate everything about him. From his strong veiny arms to his obnoxiously pretty face. https://themfchase.tumblr.com/post/632321712395026432/hate-me-m-jjk The Art Of Wanting: You find a baby in your store and in turn, a dilf finds you. https://www.tumblr.com/venusiangguk/643372881526554624/pairing-jungkook-x-reader-dilfjk-x-grocery?source=embed

Down The Rabbit Hole: Yoongi's sister buys tickets to the Autumn ball held within the Meadows, a notorious city known for its hybrid inhabitants where she hopes to meet a certain bunny princeling. https://archiveofourown.org/works/23781145 Rabbit Season: Predator met prey like an Animal Planet rerun of lions devouring antelopes in large, unremorseful bites. He took every aspect of this game seriously. He was competitive where most might not think so in this particular arena. His behavior projected through television, even while in person, was an act, perhaps the best he’d ever performed in front of his every day audience. https://archiveofourown.org/works/23781727

#bts jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic recs #jungkook imagines #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #bts jungkook fanfic #bts fic recs #bts smut #bts imagines

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ginnsbaker · 10 months

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Bulletproof (4/?)

Part Summary: There's a new recruit who seems to have taken a liking to you. If things were normal between you and Wanda, maybe she wouldn’t feel so…threatened.

Chapter word count: 2.6k+ | Tags: Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Enemies to Lovers to Enemies, Gay disasters

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Part Five | Series Masterlist

The newest recruit, Daisy Johnson, seems to have taken a liking to you.

At least, that's what Wanda Maximoff has observed since Daisy's inclusion earlier this week.

From the corner of her eye, Wanda constantly catches the newbie stealing glances at you during training, meals, and even debriefing sessions. It's not that she keeps tabs on you or anything, but she can't help but notice when you catch someone’s attention, especially when that someone seems to be nearly everywhere you are.

In every training session, Wanda notes Daisy choosing to partner up with you or standing close by during briefings. Even in the more relaxed moments within the compound, Daisy seems irresistibly drawn to you. Wanda doesn't miss how Daisy occasionally throws prolonged glances your way, or how she laughs a tad too enthusiastically at something you say.

And it doesn't help that you and she walk on eggshells around each other since your confession in your old cell.

Neither of you has made any attempts to talk to the other again. Not even a glance, as if pretending the other doesn't exist will make that fateful night disappear. But for Wanda, the more she tries to push it out of her mind, the more sharply it edges back in, refusing to be forgotten.

She can't help but wonder: Was it wrong of her to move like that in her sleep? And were you out of line for not waking her up right away?

And more importantly: Were you so repulsed by it that you chose a prison cell over sharing her bed?

All these questions keep swimming in her mind, to the point where she has considered going to whoever handles this sort of stuff at the compound—kind of like an HR Department, but for Avengers. Perhaps a course on understanding boundaries might help you both move past this and start anew.

But then again, addressing it means dealing with it, and right now, just avoiding the whole mess seems so much easier.

As Wanda turns a corner in one of the compound's sprawling hallways, her eyes catch sight of you and Daisy. You’re both laughing, heads thrown back, not a care in the world. Wanda's eyes involuntarily narrow at the sight, taking note of the negligible distance between you two. Daisy's hand is resting lightly on your arm, fingers dancing along the fabric of your shirt as she emphasizes a point in her story.

Wanda tries to walk past nonchalantly, yet can't seem to dispel the feelings that bubble up each time she sees you with Daisy.

It's maddening. If things were normal between you and Wanda, maybe she wouldn’t feel so…threatened.

But they aren't.

And she does.

Wanda's patience is tested to its limits one Saturday afternoon.

Tasked with joining Sam to whip up dinner for the team's weekly movie night, she's diligently chopping vegetables in the expansive kitchen when Daisy sidles up to her.

“Hey, uh, Wanda, right?” Daisy begins, a casual tone to her voice.

Wanda doesn’t even look up as she answers, “Yes?”

“Can I ask you something about Y/N?”

Wanda's grip on the knife tightens just a fraction, her posture stiffening. “I think it’s better if you ask Vision–he monitors all of us even more closely than the cameras we have everywhere.”

As the words leave Wanda's mouth, Vision, who’s been quietly tinkering with a device on the other side of the kitchen, looks up suddenly, his usually stoic face showing a hint of surprise.

“I assure you, I do no such thing,” he starts, his tone a touch defensive. “Monitoring everyone is not part of my programming or my personal interests.”

Daisy raises an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Sure, Vis. Everyone needs a hobby, right?”

Vision clears his throat, looking somewhat flustered, “It is not a 'hobby' of mine.”

Wanda can't help but smirk slightly at Vision's discomfort, her attention briefly diverted from the awkwardness with Daisy. “It's just a joke, Vision. Relax.”

He gives a curt nod, turning his attention back to the device in his hand, though he remains noticeably quiet.

Daisy chuckles lightly, but her curiosity remains unsated. “Anyway, back to Y/N?” She prompts, looking expectantly at Wanda. “Steve mentioned that if anyone on the team knows Y/N best, it'd be you, considering you two shared a room.”

Fucking Steve.

Wanda takes a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. She finally glances up to meet Daisy's eyes, her expression guarded. “What do you want to know?”

“Is Y/N... you know, single? And what do you think of them?”

Wanda's eyebrows shoot up, her eyes sharpening immediately. She places the knife down on the countertop with more force than necessary. “Why do you ask?”

Sam whistles softly, making it obvious he's eavesdropping. “Damn, getting intense over here,” he comments with a grin, making no effort to hide his amusement.

Daisy shoots him an exasperated look, but there's a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Trying to have a conversation here, Wilson.”

Ignoring Sam's teasing, Wanda presses, “I just want to know why you're asking.”

Daisy sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “We've been talking a lot, and I was just... curious.”

Sam, not missing a beat, chimes in, “Curious or interested?"

Daisy rolls her eyes. "Nosy much?"

Wanda reaches for the shredder and starts grating all the remaining vegetables rather aggressively.

Sam laughs before lifting the spatula to his lips to sample the soup he’s making. “Just trying to get the lay of the land.”

“Why don't you focus on your soup, Sam?” Wanda retorts, though her eyes never leave her task.

Sam smirks, catching the hint of jealousy in Wanda's tone, and decides to push just a little further. “You know, Wanda, if you have something to say about Y/N, now's the time.”

Wanda's eyes flash red for a brief moment. Sam holds his hands up in mock surrender, but the smirk doesn’t leave his face.

Daisy looks between them in confusion.

Taking a moment, Wanda sets the shredder aside and faces Daisy squarely. “Y/N almost risked their life to save mine. If you're looking for a testament to their character, well, actions like that are rare to come by.”

“And as for Y/N’s relationship status,” she continues, a bit reluctantly, “I believe they're single.”

Daisy's gaze becomes gentle, a dreamy quality entering her eyes. “That's... truly heroic,” she whispers, almost to herself. Wanda feels a sudden urge to throw up.

She then flashes a grateful smile at Wanda. “Thanks, Wanda. That means a lot coming from you.”

Wanda merely nods before clearing her throat. “Well, now that that's settled, could someone pass the salt?”

It’s Sam who hands it over, but not before saying, “Try not to add too much. We wouldn't want dinner to be as salty as some people's moods.”

Tony is, unsurprisingly, first in line, eagerly eyeing the roasted vegetables. “If the taste is half as good as the smell, we’re in for a treat tonight.”

Steve chuckles, replying, “I think we can trust Wanda and Sam's culinary skills by now.”

Natasha and Clint are engrossed in a deep conversation about an upcoming mission, while Bruce discusses some new upgrades with Tony. Vision, for his part, is explaining to Peter the intricacies of using Wanda's food processor.

As the chatter continues, Wanda moves to retrieve the centerpiece of the dinner: a golden-brown roasted chicken. She feels everyone's eyes on her, awaiting the moment the chicken will land on the table. However, her gaze is involuntarily drawn to the table where she sees you and Daisy sitting next to each other, laughing about something.

In that split second of distraction, her fingers graze the scalding metal rack of the oven. A sharp hiss escapes her lips, the sudden pain evident on her face. Dropping the oven mitts, she mutters a quick “Excuse me” and dashes off to the nearest bathroom, intending to run the burnt area under cold water.

You notice her quick exit and, after a brief moment of hesitation, quietly follow her. As you near the bathroom, the sound of running water reaches your ears.

Without knocking, you enter. Wanda is cradling her hand, trying to soothe the burn.

Your voice is soft with concern when you speak, “Wanda? Let me help.”

Wanda quickly pulls her hand away from the water, her eyes widening as she registers your arrival. “I’m fine,” she snaps, her posture tensing further. Water drips from her fingers onto the porcelain sink.

You take a hesitant step forward, your intent clear. “I can heal it. Just let me—”

“I said I'm fine,” she interrupts, her voice sharp. “Sometimes it's good to feel pain, you know, heal the natural way. Not everything needs a... quick fix.” She glances pointedly at you, an obvious jab at your abilities.

Your eyes narrow slightly at her comment, but you keep your emotions in check. “It's not about the quick fix, Wanda. It's about helping someone in pain, even if that someone is stubbornly pushing everyone away.”

She sighs, her defenses visibly waning. “Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be out there with Daisy?”

“What’s Daisy got to do with any of this?”

Wanda bites the inside of her cheek, averting her gaze. Even if she has an answer ready, she's not sure she'd want to voice it.

With a sharp exhale, your frustration bubbles over.

“Fine,” you say tersely, pointing at her burned hand. “Let it scar then. See if I care.”

Moving swiftly, you leave the bathroom without waiting for her response.

Wanda stays there for a few minutes, taking deep breaths and trying to steady herself. When she finally decides to rejoin the team for dinner, she notices the empty spot beside Daisy. You're gone, probably to your room.

Regret coils in her stomach. She didn’t mean for things to escalate like that, especially when all you were trying to do was help.

She hasn't felt this anxious in a long time.

It reminds her of the days after she lost everything that truly mattered.

Checking that everyone is probably asleep, Wanda takes a deep breath and heads towards your room. Her mind races, trying to figure out what to say, how to apologize.

She stops in front of your room and then gently raps on the door, listening intently for any sign of movement inside. “Y/N?” she calls out hesitantly. She doesn't expect the door to open immediately, and when it does, it's not you who answers.

Instead, Daisy stands there, looking a little startled too.

“You…” Wanda hisses slowly before she can catch herself.

Daisy quickly registers Wanda's reaction and raises her hands in a placating manner. “Oh, right. Sorry, this must be weird. My apartment had a plumbing issue, a flood actually. Since I'm joining the team permanently, I made a request for a new room. But until that's sorted, Y/N offered me theirs.”

Wanda's insides churn with a jealousy she can't quite place, but she masks it swiftly, painting on a polite smile. “And where's Y/N now?” she asks, her voice deceptively calm.

Daisy bites her lip, appearing somewhat embarrassed. “They're asleep,” she admits. Stepping aside, she reveals you, nestled in a makeshift bed on the floor, blankets arranged around you for some semblance of comfort.

Wanda's eyes soften at the sight of you, but her heart also tightens in anger. You've given up your bed, your comfort, for Daisy. You’re doing for someone else what she’s done for you. It feels like an invasion of something she thought she exclusively shared with you.

Daisy shifts, catching Wanda's stare. “They wouldn’t listen to me,” she explains, a bit embarrassed. “Kept saying it's fine and that I should take the bed.”

Wanda just nods, a tightness in her voice. “Sounds like them, alright.”

Trying to ease the tension, Daisy adds, “Y/N always talks about you, you know. In a good way. Maybe you two should just... chat.”

Wanda raises an eyebrow, a little surprised. “They do?”

Daisy chuckles. "Yeah. Anyway, I'll leave you to it. Night."

“Night,” Wanda murmurs, still looking at you.

Once Daisy’s gone, Wanda hesitates. Part of her wants to barge in, shake you awake, and have that long overdue talk. Instead, she absentmindedly touches the burn on her hand, its sting a reminder of how you tried to help her earlier. It's jarring to think that you, even after avoiding each other for days, were ready to heal her.

And damn, it hurts. Not the burn, but the realization of how much she misses you.

Wanda doesn’t get any chances to talk to you for the next several days because you–along with Natasha, Daisy and Vision are called away to a mission.

Each day you’re away, Wanda feels the weight of anxiety pressing down on her chest. She can’t help but worry, replaying every worst-case scenario in her mind. She catches herself multiple times pacing by the control room, asking for updates, or staring out at the landing pad, waiting for the quinjet to return.

When word finally arrives that the quinjet is en route back to the compound, Wanda finds herself in the hangar before she’s even consciously made the decision to be there. Steve stands next to her, his face betraying his own relief. A few other team members have gathered too, all awaiting the return of their comrades.

The roar of the quinjet’s engines fills the air as it makes its descent. As the ramp lowers, Wanda's eyes scan the disembarking figures, and they lock onto yours. You look a little worn, a fresh bruise marring your cheek—oddly enough, one you've chosen not to heal. But beyond that, you seem okay.

Her heart swells with relief.

You seem to pause for a second, looking genuinely shocked to see Wanda amongst those waiting. For a moment, your eyes lock. She offers a tentative smile, full of hope, and it seems you're about to approach her. But then, as you step further out of the quinjet, Daisy appears at your side. The way she comfortably intertwines her fingers with yours sends a sharp pang through Wanda's heart and her smile falters.

Steve claps his hands together, attempting to reign in the team's focus. “Alright, debrief. How did it go?”

Natasha, with a deadpan expression, shoots back, “Could’ve gone smoother if you’d packed me a flask, Rogers.”

Steve smirks, shaking his head. “Alright, Romanoff. Just don’t make us wait too long.”

As you approach Wanda, your expression gives away nothing. “Hey,” you murmur, voice neutral. But Wanda’s eyes have darted down to where your hand is connected with Daisy's. Her eyes harden, and when she meets your gaze, they’ve become unreceptive.

Misreading the tightening of Wanda's features as coldness, your frown deepens. You'd thought some time apart might've helped ease the strain between you two, but guess not.

Just as you're about to say something to her–maybe an explanation as to why you’re holding Daisy’s hand–Daisy gives a playful tug on your hand, breaking the moment. “Come on,” she chirps. “Let's head in. I heard there's pizza, and I intend to eat more slices than you.”

You allow Daisy to pull you along, throwing one last glance at Wanda over your shoulder, wishing she'd say something–anything.

But Wanda's back is already turned to you. Her posture rigid, fists clenched at her sides, the knuckles going white. In that moment, Wanda is making a silent vow to herself, one of emotional self-preservation.

She walks away, her heels clicking against the ground with each firm and decisive step. Deep down, the walls she'd slowly been dismantling brick by brick in the face of a potential future with you were being hastily reconstructed.

She’s survived worse things.

Of course, she’ll survive you.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #captain america civil war #the avengers #oneshots #steve rogers #daisy johnson #vision #sam wilson

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timeslugarts · 3 months

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Core Competency

Vox x Fem!Reader

(NSFW)

You and Vox have a little competition on if you can last all the way through your meeting. (Also known as you have a Voxtech vibrator in you during a mandatory meeting)

A/N - Based around @voxsremotec0ck post, I hope this is good. Also, if you want a part 2, I could maybe do that. Also the buisness jargon was making me laugh so much.

It was the weekly end of sales report meeting. You as well as other execs from different sectors had to report directly to the big boss himself. If your numbers were in the red he would probably kill you, but it did give you the chance to beg for your life at least.

You always had the highest grossing sales amongst your peers so you weren't worried… about that at least.

What no one else knew was you and the boss man had a secret arrangement. You and him would rendezvous regularly for some one on one, "interpersonal relationship" training.

That's why when Vox called you in 5 minutes before the weekly report, you were a little confused. There was no way 5 minutes was enough time to "complete your tasks." Vox explained thoroughly that if you were a good girl and did what he said, then an extra special bonus could be in your future. You agreed eagerly, of course, not wanting to disappoint your boss.

That's why you were now sitting in the boardroom, surrounded by your coworkers with a vibrator inside of you controlled by your boss, who was currently talking about sales.

In the beginning the constant thrum of it was almost easy to ignore, you felt pretty confident about getting your after meeting bonus. All you had to do was make it the entire meeting without cumming.

When it was your turn to proudly discuss your sector's income report Vox's grin grew malicious. No one noticed however because all eyes were on you, that's when he turned the tiny pill to max.

You gasped, hunching over the table, papers scattering. The person next to you hopped up, putting their hand on your shoulder. You immediately shrugged it off. You couldn't bear the idea of anyone but him touching you right now.

"Are you ok?" They asked, voice laced with concern.

"Y… yeah I'm fine, just a dizzy spell, I'll be ok." You felt the slick between your legs growing, heat climbing up your neck.

"You sure doll?" Vox grinned leaning forward, claws crossed in front of him, "You're looking awfully flushed, maybe you should go home?" Red lines drooling from his teeth as he continued to stare at you, eyes shining with delight.

"No, I'm fine." You said through gritted teeth. Damn this man.

Your knees were starting to wobble.

Vox kept asking you questions about new employees, if you needed anything for your shops, what the fucking weather was like. He was drawing out your presentation as long as he could. He was a bastard. Your pussy ached, needing contact so bad. Each word was a struggle, you were panting trying to get things out.

If Vox took you here in front of all these people you don't think you'd care. You needed him to fuck you. The coil in your belly was so tight you thought you were going to faint. Saliva was pooling in your mouth and could feel the wet dripping down your thighs.

Vox stared, he seemed almost genuinely interested in your presentation for the first time ever. You knew the glee in his eyes was for something entirely different though. The only hint that something was happening on his side came everytime he had to readjust himself, he was constantly shifting in his seat, or his hand would subtly sneak down to his pants to grab himself. He was enjoying this so much.

The thought of his hard cock was too much, your thighs clenched, trying so hard to keep yourself contained.

The meeting was over, finally, you were saying your goodbyes, lingering behind everyone else to have a private word with your boss. You were shaking your last coworker's hand when the vibrating became even more intense.

You crunched their hand, moaning as your body instinctively curled in on itself. You saw stars.

When you finally regained a bit of composure you met the eyes of the person whose hand was still in yours. They were blushing wildly, avoiding all eye contact. You could've died on the spot.

"Don't worry," Vox said coolly, slinging his arm around the other employee, "they're just not feeling well," he walked them over, pushing them out the door. "I'll make sure they get all the help they need."

#hazbin vox #vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #vox smut #vox fanfiction #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #also literally you can read this as Handsome Jack #because theyre the same

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di-42 · 24 days

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May's Magnificent Fictions

First off let me share with you a little side note, because the brain wants what the brain wants. After an inner struggle I've finally decided to settle on using the noun "fiction" as countable when referring to works of fanfiction. I will stick to this. It has been bothering me.

And now for something completely enjoyable, let me present to you the lovely fics I've been lucky enough to read in May. I't's been a busy, at times stressful month and I haven't had the chance to read as many as I would have liked. I only made a tiny dent in my Marked for later list, which keeps growing and isn't it wonderful? I still have so much beauty, creativity and bliss to look forward to.

I'll try and tag the writers whose tumblr username I know, so they know how loved they are.

WIPs:

The first two WIPs of this list have made me realise that my new favourite trope is the "they never met" one. Or it might just be that both writers are incredibly good!

My Heart Was Always Yours by @addledmongoose

I love this fic and the author's other work so much that sometimes I worry the writer might think I'm stalking them or something! (I'm not! I promise! I only kind of start staring at my phone around 6pm on a Friday night UK time waiting for an update, that's all!). Anyway. like I was saying, in this fiction Aziraphale and Crowley never met until present day and, at the beginning of the story, neither of them knows the other is an angel or a demon. They have both been tasked by their respective head offices to retrieve Raphael's trumpet so Armageddon can start and they both want to find it and destroy it. So they embark on a journey together, thinking that the other is human. This story is so good. It has an incredibly well thought out plot, the characterisation of both, Aziraphale and Crowley are spot on, their interactions are funny and witty but also deep and very sweet. But the point that's dearest to me is that it shows the character of Aziraphale the respect it deserves, which sadly happens less often than it should. The way the writer describe the building of their relationship and their trust will fill your heart with warmth. The stoty has alternate Aziraphale and Crowley POVs and it's narrated in the first person, which will read funny at first but it will flow within the first couple of chapters and it will have been worth it!

This fiction is updated officially every Saturday but if you're very lucky and depending where you are in the world it might be Friday. Only a few more weeks to go, though, it's almost complete and I'll miss it (But I'll re-read it!) Rated M.

The Last Angel by @bellisima-writes

This is another excellent "they never met" story. In this universe, Crowley and Aziraphale were stationed on earth, Armageddon happened, and Hell won the war. All the angels have been killed, except one. This story only has the first 6 chapters out, but you can already see the wonderful job the author has done of thinking how Aziraphale and Crowley would be without having ever met each other, what would be the same and what would be different. And the same goes for other characters, too: so far we've had an insight of how Beelzebub is like in a different universe and hints at how other characters would behave as well. It is full of promise, it sets expectations that I'm hoping will be subverted and the writer is doing such an excellent job with it all. Please go and show this story some love, you won't regret it!

This fiction is updated weekly, definitely every Friday, but I understand from now on every Wednesday and Friday. Rated M.

The Escort by VinyamaDN @vinyama-23

Human AU where Crowley is an escort and Aziraphale hires him for a date. They start getting to know each other and the rest is history. This story touches very delicate subjects, but it's also funny and fluffy. Please read the tags. Rated E.

Whickber Street by Caedmon @caedmonfaith

Lovely human AU where Aziraphale has a bookshop in Whickber Street and Crowley opens a comic book shop on the same road. It's a slow burn, from one-enemy-to-lovers story, full of humour, charm and fluff. Featuring all the shopkeepers in Whickber Street, which is a treat! Update every Monday and Thursday without fail. Rated E.

Complete works:

And Now All Of My Garden Is Grown In Lavender by ilikeblue

I'm so grateful to my lovely mutual and penpal @dashuntsel for recommending this great human AU. Aziraphale is a successful queer romance author whose books are being adapted for TV. At the start of his career, his agent, Gabriel, insisted he claims to be married in order to gain more readers. Now that the spotlight is on him, Aziraphale needs someone to play the part of his husband. Did I mention that Crowley is Aziraphale's gardener and friend? I'm sure you know where this is going. This story has a little angst and lots of good vibes of trust, friendship, love and loyalty. And a happy ending! Rated E.

Lit by @fellshish

Fellshish is one of my favourite fiction writers and this piece doesn't disappoint. Making people laugh is much more difficult than making people cry and fellshish succeeds in the task so effortlessly! (They can also make you laugh while wanting to cry, but for that you'll have to read their other stories. This one is angst-free). Time-wise this story can be collocated after season 1 and is not canon compliant with season 2. Crowley enrolls in a literature course without realising it was a fantasy literature course. The book that will be read this semester is "Good Omens - The Nice And Accurate Prophecies Of Agnes Nutter, Witch". And the class will get to meet the author, Neil Gaiman. This book seems to describe only too well the event leading to the failed Armageddon, including things that only Aziraphale and Crowley would know. How is that possible? And what would happen if it fell on heavenly or hellish wrong hands? And, oh Satan, did someone say TV adaptation?? A truly amazing, funny piece that will make you feel better after a hard day at work. Rated Teen and up.

Gate Duty by Ginger_cat @gingiekittycat

Not really a crossover, but a Good Omens fiction with elements of The Good Place. You can absolutely read it and enjoy it if you haven't seen The Good Place. placed in time post season 1. Aziraphale is called back to heaven to Gate Duty and he's decided to go despite Crowley's protest. Crowley has Beelzebub assign him to Gate Duty as well, so they don't have to spend 300 years apart. So they set to out to judge the souls and decide whether to send them to the good place or the bad place, as they have rebranded heaven and hell. In the process they meet a few souls that you might or might not know, not the focus of the story. This fiction manages to be funny and incredibly angsty at the same time and it was incredible to see how some of the details in it would resonate with season 2, which wasn't out at the time the fic was written. Rated E.

Of Size And Other Matters by LCwrites

Lovely from strangers to lovers, fake relationship human AU. Aziraphale needs a date to accompany him to an event hosted by his brother, Gabriel. Crowley receives a text from a stranger, clearly by mistake, but why not having some fun? I really like the dynamics between them, the ease and the trust. A tiny bit of angsty pining but quickly and happily resolved. Rated E.

One shot:

Not Nice by Sad_chaos_goblin @sad-chaos-goblin

Great one shot that follows the wall slamming scene!What would have happened if the former nun hadn't interrupted their "Intimate moment"? This fic is a treat, sweet and hot and fluffy all at the same time. Rated E.

#good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfiction recommendation #good omens fanfic rec #good omend fic rec #good omens fiction #good omens fic rec #thank you for my pornography #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands

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wastelandmoony · 1 year

Text

Things We Lost in the Fire

Characters: Sebastian Sallow x Reader/f!MC

Summary: Sebastian Sallow was many things: your dueling partner, former friend, object of your secret desire. But most of all, he was a pain in your ass.

Going practically M.I.A. since the Battle of the Repository, you hadn't spoken or seen him since the end of your fifth year. As a new school year begins, you'll need to come to terms with his overbearing presence around the castle...and his new relationship.

Warnings: language, allusions to smut, mild violence?

Word Count: 6K+ (oopsie)

A/N: This idiot has been living rent free in my brain for over a month. After finishing the game and being less than enthused by the culmination of his storyline, here we are.

Sebastian Sallow Playlist

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The Great Hall was buzzing with excitement; the electricity crackling through the air was palpable. September 1st was always an exhilarating day, but this year even more so. The promise of a new school year, a new start; the feeling was invigorating. After the events of last year everyone was in an elevated state of elation to be back amongst friends, nestled within the fortified stone walls of the castle that had become home to them all.

As you strode through the large oak doors, the empty seat amongst the faculty table shot a dagger straight through your heart. From the dais, Professor Hecat wore a small sympathetic smile, one reserved specifically for you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you shook off the visions of Professor Fig, of the faces currently staring back at you fighting alongside underneath the castle. You weren’t unsure what sort of unseen force was propelling you forward, subconsciously managing to make it to the Hufflepuff table.

For being as tiny as she was, Poppy practically body slammed you onto the floor with the velocity of her hug. Though the two of you had kept in touch over the summer, you hadn’t seen her in person since last year.

You hadn’t seen anyone since leaving Hogwarts in June.

Last Spring had been a bit of a blur. After defeating Ranrok in the bowels of the castle, your body had shut down, completely going into autopilot as you navigated the remainder of 5th year. Classes had resumed like nothing had happened, but the whispers around the school eventually changed to shouts, and everyone became fully aware of how close they (and the rest of the Wizarding world) had come to complete destruction. Word quickly spread of your unique abilities, and how you were able to defeat one of the strongest uses of ancient magic known to history. The notoriety was overwhelming, and frankly uncomfortable. So much had been lost, and you didn’t have the strength to put on a happy face for all of the well-wishers and nosy students that pestered with questions in the halls.

Once the snow melted and the Scottish Highlands were beginning to bloom with color, a ceremony was held in the Great Hall, including a memorial for those lost. Headmaster Black requested you speak in honor of Professor Fig, but the thought made you violently ill. How do you sum up the life of a man that took you in when no one else would? Who taught you about the special powers that laid dormant inside your soul? The man who fought beside you until the very end?

Professor Weasley took over the task, understanding the desperate look in your eyes when you had asked. She had taken to watching over you in Fig’s absence, scheduling weekly tea times to check in on your wellbeing. She was the lifeline you needed, but frankly not the one you wanted.

Poppy stuck by your side for the remainder of the year, trying her best to keep your mind off the trauma of everything. But she wasn’t there when you were asleep; she couldn’t keep the nightmares away. The screams were the worst, echoing in your subconscious with no escape until you woke up violently thrashing. You heard Ranrok’s cold laughter; the crack of dark magic; the screams of your friends.

You heard Sebastian.

You heard Anne’s scream.

When you woke, a flash of blinding green light shot across your vision each time, one single phrase playing over and over: “I had to do it—“

The greed in Sebastian’s voice plagued you, long gone was your cheeky dueling partner from Crossed Wands, the one that confided his darkest secrets while exploring hidden rooms throughout the school. The two of you hadn’t spoken since the memorial ceremony, he had all but become a ghost. Occasionally you’d see him in the halls, walking with a dead-eyed stare that never seemed to land on you. Ominis kept you informed about Anne; she wasn’t speaking to Sebastian, going as far as to banish him from attending their uncles funeral altogether. According to his best friend, the news didn’t surprise him in the slightest, but the lack of communication with Anne was eating Sebastian alive.

You tried to forget about your former friend, the one that you had lost to the lure and power of dark magic. Regardless of his original intentions, Sebastian had strayed too far from the help he had set out to find. You weren’t innocent in this either, utilizing dark magic throughout the struggle to defeat Ranrok. The difference was, that you knew when and where to use it, Sebastian was drunk on the power.

Ominis kept in touch over the summer, writing occasionally to check-in and talk about your respective breaks and desire to be back at school. He never mentioned Sebastian in his letters, a deliberate choice and something that you were grateful for.

You hadn’t been excited to leave Hogwarts, with nothing and no one to go home to. Professor Fig was the only guardian figure you’d ever known, having been the one that retrieved you from the group home in London over a year ago. You refused to go back there, to the never-ending list of asinine rules and an overbearing matron hell-bent on keeping an oppressive eye on your every move, so in exchange for working at the Three Broomsticks you were able to rent a room for free from Sirona until September. She understood better than most what you had been through, and also knew that no one else would possibly rent to an underage witch with little to no means of supporting herself. When you weren’t picking up shifts in the pub, the massive amount of books you’d amassed kept your mind occupied. Even after cramming all year and having multiple professors offer extra assignments, you still felt behind. Any free time was spent pouring over ancient spell texts and potion recipes, eager to come back to school feeling confident in your abilities as a 6th year witch (and not as the hero you had been portrayed as by everyone else).

———

As you sat down with Poppy at the Hufflepuff table, you were greeted loudly by a few other housemates, their welcoming nature warming your heart. After the opening remarks from Headmaster Black and the sorting ceremony, the feast commenced with the entire hall erupting into the boisterous sounds of students laughing and reacquainting.

Taking a sip of pumpkin juice, you were suddenly startled by two cold hands covering your eyes.

“Guess who—“ a low voice sounded in your ear.

“Ominis!” You whipped your head around to see his sly grin as he sat beside you on the bench. Without hesitation, you embraced him, wrapping both arms around his thin shoulders, “I’ve missed you.”

You felt him smile against your shoulder, “Likewise—how was the rest of your summer?”

“Uneventful…thankfully,” you laughed, pulling back from him, “How about yours?”

Ominis shrugged, “Nothing grand, I did visit Anne a few weeks ago though.”

Your eyes widened, “Oh! How is she?”

“She’s doing well…at least, as well as can be expected…” he trailed off, and she knew it was because there was more to the story. His milky eyes traveled over in the direction of the Slytherin table briefly, hers following on instinct.

He came into sight almost immediately, you’d recognize those freckles anywhere. He was laughing at something, a true, jovial laugh that you hadn’t heard since Crossed Wands. Even from three tables over, you could pick it out of the crowd; the sound igniting the very blood in your veins. Sebastian’s eyes creased as the laughter died into a genuine smile; he looked good, he looked—happy. You watch as he leans over and places a kiss on the cheek of—wait.

“Imelda?!” You choked, forcing your mouth closed to avoid looking like a heartbroken sod. The fire that his laugh had set was now turning into a thick sludge in your gut, bubbling and seeping into the very essence of your being.

Ominis cringed, turning towards you with visible sympathy written on his pale face, “Yes, they began seeing each other over the summer. It’s been…rather insufferable if I’m honest.”

You shook your head, unwilling to believe the sight in front of you. Out of everyone at Hogwarts, he had to choose her? Imelda was insufferable on the best of days; brash, loud, and incredibly boastful, she was the antithesis of yourself—maybe that’s why Sebastian liked her.

“How…?” Your attention was pulled back to Ominis, brows furrowed as your lungs constricted.

He shrugged again and shook his head in disbelief, “After everything that happened, he became distant as you well know, he barely spoke to me even. Imelda, being a fellow Slytherin, is incredibly ambitious and when she sets her mind on something, there’s nothing that will stop her. She saw a lonely, lost boy in need of guidance and support, and she struck.”

The room was beginning to spin.

You’d be lying if you said the feelings you harbored for Sebastian didn’t exist. The two of you had been through unspeakable things together, leaning on each other through it all, until he decided to take a path you couldn’t follow. Even after everything, he was still your Sebastian, and the hope that one day he would come around stuck firmly in your heart. You loved him, more than just as a friend and dueling partner.

You were in love with Sebastian Sallow, you had been for a while.

Eventually, Ominis returned to his house table, promising to meet again the following morning for breakfast to compare timetables. You glanced over as he sat back down amongst his fellow Snakes, and were caught in the unwavering stare that Sebastian had set directly on you. Averting your eyes as a deep blush creeped up your cheeks, the thought of sinking through the flagstone floor seemed very appealing. That wasn’t an accidental glance, he was fixated on you; eyes boring into yours while he sat beside his girlfriend. The expression on his face was unreadable, something you’d ruminate on later.

The moment Professor Black dismissed the houses, you sprinted to your dorm, eager to be as far away from Sebastian Sallow as physically possible.

———

The timetable for this term wasn’t awful; you had been able to choose which classes to pursue in accordance with which career path you planned on taking after Hogwarts, swapping the least attractive (a.k.a. impossibly boring and rather useless) courses for more riveting subject matter. After witnessing the corruption and insolence displayed by Officer Singer and her colleagues last year, becoming a member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was the only logical path for you. The overarching desire to create fundamental change department-wide, and actually be able to help citizens and prevent unspeakable tragedies, consumed you. Poppy had tried to convince you to pursue a career in the Department of Magical Creatures like her; something that did in fact greatly interest you, ultimately pacifying her by taking another year of Beasts classes. The one course you were looking forward to, Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts, was going to be a struggle.

It was the one class you shared with Sebastian.

Professor Hecat was a welcome sight, smiling at you as she walked towards the front of the classroom.

“Good morning everyone, and welcome to another year of Defense Against the Dark Arts! At this point in your academic journey, you should be well versed in most defensive spellwork, including protective shields and disarming maneuvers. Let’s do a little ‘welcome back’ warm-up, shall we?” Her eyes swept over the room, the majority of students returning eager expressions.

“I’ll split you all into pairs, line up on either side of the classroom and begin trying to disarm your partner,” Professor Hecat began to rattle off names, and the further she ran through the roster, the lower your stomach sank. Gaze falling to the floor as she called your last name, you knew exactly what was about to follow.

“—and Sallow. Have at it!” She motioned for the start of the duels.

You slowly pushed the chair back, refusing to even look in his general direction as you lined up against the wall.

It’s just a duel, you’ve done it a million times.

Picture him as just another foe.

Taking to the proper stance, you exhale slowly, trying to welcome in any semblance of calm. Finally looking up at your partner, his gaze was already glued to you. The vacant eyes that you saw last year were gone, replaced by the original brown, cozy warmth you had fallen in love with. It should’ve made you happy, the fact that he seemed to be doing better (at least on the outside), but all you felt was your heart sinking into your stomach. Sebastian raised his wand and narrowed his eyes, a look you knew all too well from fighting alongside him last year. He knew your exact style of dueling, he was your partner from the beginning, your right hand man; a fact that would only work to your detriment.

“Expelliarmus!” You flicked your wand towards him, a spark of exhilaration shooting up your arm.

“Protego,“ he growled, casting an immediate shield and blocking your test shot. The timber of his voice gave you goosebumps, it had been so long since you’d heard it. The two of you watched each other intensely, the air around you thick with everything unsaid.

“Stupefy—“ he shot back. You expertly dodged the stun and instantly cast another disarming spell. It hit Sebastian in the arm, wand leaping out of his hand, only to be quickly grabbed mid-air before it could be lost entirely.

“Shit…” you whispered under your breath, trying to think of another game plan.

He smirked as you repositioned yourself, “You’re rusty.”

You shot an angry look in his direction, shooting an even quicker levitation spell that he avoided with a shrug of his shoulder.

“Oh come on, I know you can do better than that,” he sent a stinging hex your way, something you both knew wasn’t allowed in Professor Hecat’s classroom.

“What’re you playing at?” You threw both hands out in disbelief, while Sebastian grinned. He was doing this on purpose, he wanted to get a rise out of you.

Sticking to Hecat’s dueling rules, you sent a quick succession of spells forward, mixing both disarming and stunning, knowing that Sebastian lacked the speed to block each one. To your surprise, he managed to avoid them (you briefly wondered who he’d been practicing with), casting a perfect protego shield and firing another fierce stupefy in your direction followed by one single bolt of confringo.

The heat of the blast burned as it shot past your head, making you gasp at the aggression. Snapping your head around, he had a shit eating grin on his smug face.

“What’s wrong? Hogwarts’ Golden Girl doesn’t want to fight back?”

“Fuck you, Sallow!” You spit, casting depulso and throwing him backwards into the wall.

As his body slammed into the stone, Professor Hecate yelling your name out.

“—DETENTION. MR. SALLOW, YOU AS WELL!”

As Sebastian sat against the wall, rubbing the back of his (now bruised) head, you quickly snatched your bag off the floor and stalked out of class early before saying something regretful.

———

Ominis had found out about the incident in Defense class later that same day, the entire school was talking about the former friends turned bitter enemies. He was less than amused by the outburst on both of your parts, chastising you for losing your ‘sense of decorum and grace at Sebastian’s childish antics’.

“You can’t let him get to you,” Ominis shook his head as he sat down with you and Poppy in the Great Hall for lunch.

Letting out an exasperating groan, you buried your head in your hands, “I know, I know. I’m not sure what came over me…”

Poppy and Ominis began to chat about their shared Charms class while you ate in silence, trying to keep your thoughts from reverting back to the tiny spark of mischief you saw in Sebastian’s eyes earlier, or how you wanted to trace every single freckle on his face—no. Stop it.

“—want to check out the newborn Kneazles that Professor Howin told me about after lunch?” Poppy chimed, looking at you eagerly over her sandwich.

It snapped you out of the daze, “Oh? Oh! Sorry, I can’t—quidditch try-outs are this afternoon.”

“You’re trying out for the team?” Poppy sat up straighter in excitement.

You nodded, taking another bite of food.

“Good for you,” Ominis nudged your arm gently, “from what I’ve heard, you’re a pretty exceptional flyer.”

Blushing, you pushed him back playfully with your elbow, “Thanks, I guess we’ll see how I fare on the quidditch pitch though.”

———

Later that day, you sat mid-air on your broom in the warm September breeze, inhaling the early scents of oncoming autumn. The trees of the Forbidden Forrest rustled just off the side of the pitch, a grouping of Jobberknolls cresting over the tops. All four houses were holding try-outs simultaneously, organizing short scrimmages of inter-house players both prospective and permanent. So far, you were one of the strongest contenders from any of them.

Except for one.

Imelda turned the pitch into her own personal showcase, making an extra effort to show off for anyone watching; anyone, including a specific Slytherin 6th year in the stands below. You had flown low over the spectators earlier in order to avoid an incoming bludger, noticing Ominis seated next to your former partner-in-crime. As you looped around, you caught Sebastian’s brown eyes fixed on you, muttering something to your mutual friend beside him.

Another Hufflepuff hopeful named Charlie thew the quaffle to you, signaling a turn to traverse through the other players and attempt to score. Weaving, diving, and dodging through the multitude of brooms, the bronze goalposts were within range; that’s when you saw a flash of green descend rapidly in front of you, blocking the path to victory. Imelda smirked, swaying as you attempted to maneuver around. She was fast and knew this game like the back of her hand, something you were already keenly aware of.

Suddenly she shot forward, kicking roughly with her boot to try and knock the quaffle out from under your arm. Making contact with your elbow, you wince at the pain, narrowing your eyes at her sinister grin. The sight of her kissing Sebastian in the Great Hall flashed before your eyes, mocking you.

Imelda pulled back and lined up to charge again. To the right, you saw a Hufflepuff beater square up with an incoming bludger. You whistled to get their attention, signaling with your eyes to help out. They smacked the bludger in your direction, and you quickly spun to hit it with the tail of your broom, redirecting it straight at Imelda. It made contact with her ribs, knocking her off the broom and sending her careening towards the ground.

Madam Kogawa shouted from the field below, “ARRESTO MOMENTUM!”

Upon seeing the interference, you rocketed towards the goal posts, tossing the quaffle through the ring effortlessly. As the Hufflepuff captain flew over to congratulate you, your eyes focused on Imelda being carted off to the hospital wing below, Sebastian following close behind.

———

On Friday night, you trudged to the Defense Against the Darks tower for detention. The thought of spending an entire night doing mindless tasks beside Sebastian made you want to vomit. All of this was his fault: the detention, the animosity, the…feelings. Everything could have been avoided if he wasn’t such an insufferable little twat.

Turning the corner, you saw him leaning outside of Professor Hecat’s door, arms crossed over his chest. Even alone he looks utterly smug and pretentious, though the words crossed your mind, your stomach (which had now suddenly taken on the form of a dozen angry billywigs) had a differing opinion. Upon hearing your footsteps, his eyes snap up, features softening slightly as you drew closer. Completely ignoring his presence (and absolutely stupid looking smirk), you breezed past through the open door. You heard him follow behind, shutting the heavy wooden door as Professor Hecat looked up from her desk.

“Good evening,” she said calmly, “as your punishment for using aggressive spells during a non-offensive lesson, you will each be writing an essay on how to best defend yourself against three types of beasts, each one without using a single attack spell.”

Sebastian groaned from the back of the room, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes at his typical dramatics.

Taking a seat close to Professor Hecat’s desk, you got to work outlining your main points. Dugbogs, Acromantulas, and Mongrels; three beasts you were (unfortunately) very familiar with. Luckily, your combat experience with numerous different magical creatures enabled the essay to practically write itself. Across the room, the sound of Sebastian tapping his quill against the desk was driving you insane. You shot him an angry look as he put his hands up, mouthing a snarky “what?” back at you.

Just ignore him, you thought, like Ominis said, he’s just trying to get a rise out of you.

Surprising absolutely no one, you finished your essay before Sebastian, rising gracefully from your desk and handing the roll of parchment to Professor Hecat with an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry again, Professor. I promise I won’t lose my head again.”

She returned the smile, “You’re a brilliant witch, my dear, I expect great things from you. Don’t disappoint me.”

The hallways were deserted as you emerged from the classroom, curfew had passed a few hours ago so you would be in for a quiet walk back down to the dormitory. As you descended the main stairs, an insufferable voice came from behind, echoing through the vacant corridor.

“I expect great things from you, don’t disappoint me!”

Sebastian was sauntering down the staircase, a mocking grin on his face. You rolled your eyes and continued on, ignoring him just like you did Peeves.

The twin footsteps followed the corridor leading towards the bottom floor of the castle, Sebastian making an annoying point to whistle a jaunty tune the entire time that was grating on your nerves. The realization finally dawned on you that he had completely bypassed the staircase that led down to the Slytherin dungeons. Whipping around, he stopped short as to not walk directly into your body.

“Why are you following me?” You demanded, keeping your voice steady. The low lights of the torches lining the hallway flickered in his dark eyes, reminding you of the countless nights dueling down in the Undercroft together. The hanging braziers would always cast a halo effect onto his hair, looking almost angelic as he would reach out a hand to help you up after a particular strong blast. “Not bad—for a Hufflepuff,” he would chuckle, brushing the dirt from your hair. In those moments, it didn’t matter that Ominis was across the room listening, it didn’t matter that you weren’t any closer to curing Anne, it didn’t matter that the fate of the Wizarding world was weighing on your shoulders; it was just you, and him, two sides of the same Galleon, the rest just melted away.

He pushed past, cocking his head to the side as he approached the portrait leading to the kitchens.

“Promised Imelda I’d grab her something from the kitchens on my way back—they don’t serve dessert in the hospital wing, apparently…”

Mouth pressed into a tight line, you nod. The upwards inflection at the end of his statement gave you pause, it almost sounded…amused? The sight of the large barrels at the end of the hallway was a welcome sight, and you picked up the pace towards the common room entrance, desperate to get away from Sebastian and the aggressively thick tension. Tapping the second to last barrel, you stared at the wooden entrance as it slid open, allowing passage through. Before stepping over the threshold, you could’ve sworn the sound of your name was whispered quietly from down the hall; when you glanced back, the kitchen portrait was just snapping shut.

———

Avoiding Sebastian was becoming almost impossible; for as large as the castle was, it seemed like the two of you kept running into each other at every turn. Defense class was honestly the easiest place to avoid him, surprisingly; after the incident at the beginning of the year, Professor Hecat knew better than to pair you together. He sat close to the back every week, an opposing position to your front row seat. Outside of the classroom was an entirely different story. In the Great Hall, you would always be within eyeshot of him, and whenever Ominis would stop by your table to chat, you could feel his gaze on you from across the room.

“—I just don’t know how I’ll manage to keep up with it. I still have three essays for Magical Theory, Charms, and Arithmancy, how can I possibly find time to write another for History of Magic?” Ominis ran a hand down his pale face. Sixth year was giving everyone a run for their money; you had never seen Ominis this frazzled about school before. As he continued to whine, you glanced up from your lunch to see Sebastian sitting at the far table, staring directly at you with an expression that could only be describe as longing. Holding his eyes for the briefest of moments, his attention was quickly torn away by the arrival of Imelda, who flopped down on the bench rather dramatically. Her scowl was prominent, and you silently thought about what trivial occurrence had set her off this time. The contents of your lunch threatened to expel themselves as you watched Sebastian throw a protective arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to begin a vicious assault on her mouth. The call of your name snapped your attention from the gruesome display of affection.

“—are you even listening to me?” Ominis whined, face contorted with mild annoyance.

You hummed, the display you just witnessed seemingly burned into your eyes, “Yes, sorry, Ominis. I’m just…”

“Distracted?” His voice was laden with accusation as his eyes drifted over towards the Slytherin table. Your eyes refused to follow, knowing exactly what scene they’d be met with.

“Yes…there’s a lot on my mind between school, and quidditch, and—”

“—and our old friend, Mr. Sallow?” Ominis remained fixated on his house table, voice monotonous as if he were stating a well-known fact.

You choked audibly, eyes about to leave your skull as Ominis’ face remained stoic.

“He asked about you the other day, you know.”

The sentence knocked the wind out of you.

“…o-oh?” Your stumbling voice was a traitor, “and what did he want, exactly?”

“To know how you were.”

A volatile swirl of emotions happened simultaneously. As your heart did somersaults in your chest cavity at the thought of Sebastian giving even one iota of a damn about your wellbeing, the deep rooted hurt and anger from his actions began to courses through your veins like poison; threatening to consume the delicate fluttering between your ribs.

“…and what did you tell him?” The question came out as a barely audible whisper, the hurricane still raging inside of your body, each emotion vying for control.

Ominis slowly panned back to your pained expression, “I told him to ask you himself.”

———

Last winter was brutal, but this years was shaping up to be even worse. The castle grounds had been perpetually blanketed in heavy snow for almost two months straight, so much that you had frankly forgotten what grass looked like. On top of that, the wind whipped violently across the lawns and swirled around the courtyards, making it almost impossible to be outside between classes. The majority of the time you were comfortably resigned to lounging in the Hufflepuff Common Room, the warmth and coziness of the underground burrow breathing some much needed life back into your bones. You and Ominis had begun swapping books as entertainment; once the two of you had completed your respective novels, you’d switch them in-between classes or drop them off at breakfast. Sometimes Ominis would write little notes and stick them in the pages of chapters he found very interesting, so you began to copy the sentiment, making notes in the margins on lines that particularly moved you. Afterwards, deep discussions would be had in the Undercroft about each story, coming up with theories and breaking down each plot point. It had become a hobby you truly enjoyed, and it brought the both of you even closer together.

Ominis had been on a big muggle literature kick lately, opting for recommending ancient greek texts for this cycle of book-swapping. He dropped off a small, leather-bound copy of The Odyssey one morning at breakfast, raving on and on about how much he enjoyed it and being extremely anxious upon hearing your thoughts once finished. His excitement had you beaming, genuinely for once, a smile that made your cheeks hurt slightly. You hadn’t felt that since…well, since last year.

The anniversary of the Battle of the Repository was approaching, something that refused to leave the forefront of your mind. The book-swap with Ominis had been helping slightly, giving you at least a slight reprieve while reading about far away places and fantastic adventures, but you couldn’t stay stuck in the pages forever, and the reminders would always creep back quickly.

Double Potions that morning led into a free afternoon (thank Merlin, you could only take so much of Garreth Weasley in one day), meaning that the rest of the day could be spent curled up by the fire in your common room reading without distractions. The thought of the gentle heat warming your frozen body is what got you through the dreary hours-long dungeon class (the lack of feeling in your toes stealing most of your attention, allowing you to completely shut Garreth’s incessant talking out). At Professor Sharp’s grunt of dismissal, you practically flew from the dungeon, taking the steps two at a time back up to your warm, golden oasis.

The best couch was unoccupied as you walked through the wooden tunnel, tossing your bag onto the rug and flopping down amongst the floral embroidered cushions. You stretch your feet out towards the fire, feeling the blood begin to flow back to your soles and wiggling each toe inside your boots.

The spine of The Odyssey cracked as you pried it open, relishing in the feeling of the parchment on your fingertips. As you worked your way through, a small piece of parchment slid out from the back of the book, landing directly into your lap. A small note was scrawled onto the torn paper, and you instantly recognized Ominis’ posh handwriting (the way he flourished the last letter of each word was a dead giveaway).

Meet me in the Undercroft after curfew tonight.

Tonight? There’s no way you’d be able to finish this book by tonight, it was already almost—shit, it was almost dinner. Sighing, you began to tear through the pages, deciding to skip dinner entirely in lieu of attempting to finish by this evening. You’d just pop by the kitchens on the way to the Undercroft, Ominis was always welcoming of midnight snacks anyway.

The clock in the common room chimed at 10pm, signaling that curfew had officially begun. After a quick pit-stop in the kitchens (you grabbed Ominis and extra dessert hoping it would make him less annoyed that you hadn’t been able to finish his book that day), you snuck silently towards the Defense Tower.

The gate to the Undercroft groaned as you lifted it, stepping through and looking around the dim area for any signs of life.

“Ominis?” You call into the room, “I’m sorry—I really tried to finish but I ran out of—“

A shuffling in the corner caught your attention. Ominis never remembered to light the torches if he got there first, something you really needed to remind him of.

“Incendio,” you ignited one of the braziers by a nearby pillar, illuminating Sebastian’s face.

“What’re you doing here?” Your voice was accusatory as you gripped onto your book.

“Me?” His brows raised incredulously, “Need I remind you, this was my secret first. If anything, I should be asking why you’re here.”

Prick.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m supposed to be meeting Ominis.”

Sebastian hummed in acknowledgement, “I don’t think he’ll be making it.”

A pit of fear began to form in your gut, an unintentional mechanism put in place after everything that happened last year.

“What’re you talking about? Is he okay?!” Your voice began to raise as panic shot through every cell in your being.

He raised his hands in a calming manner, “He’s fine, last I saw he was heading up to bed.”

…What? Ominis knew you had a meeting tonight, he’s the one that bloody sent the invitation! You pulled out the torn piece of parchment from the pages of the book, examining the words again to see if maybe you had misread it.

Sebastian chuckled darkly from across the room, “Impressive, isn’t it? I think I’m getting rather good at imitation charms.”

Your eyes slowly raised to his smug face, “…you? You wrote this? Why—“

“I—wanted to talk to you,” his voice faltered slightly.

Your eyes widened, “Now you want to talk? It’s been months, Sebastian…”

The blood in your veins was beginning to heat up, all of the anger that had been building since last winter coming back to the surface.

He sighed, “How are you?”

The cackle that left your mouth was accidental, “How am I? Is that a joke? You’re joking, right?”

He sat stone-faced as you raised both eyebrows at him incredulously.

“You’re unbelievable…” you grumbled, turning towards the gate to leave.

“Wait!” He rushed forward grabbed your wrist. The touch sent electric shocks through your arm.

“Please—I—I’m sorry,” His voice was low, eyes pleading with you to stay, “I just, don’t know what to say.”

“An apology would be a fantastic place to start,” you retorted rather rudely, earning a sideways glance from him.

“I’m trying—”

“—No you’re not.”

“Well, maybe if you let me get a word in—“

“—go ahead then, tell me what you’re ‘trying’ to apologize for,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

Sebastian backed up slightly, “…Everything. I’m sorry for dragging you into this, I’m sorry you had to see me at my worst—“

“—at your worst? Sebastian, I lied for you, shit—I cast unforgivables for you. I convinced Ominis to keep everything a secret so you wouldn’t be sent to Azkaban. And what did you do? You disappeared—“

“—I know, I’m sorr—“

“No!” Your voice was growing louder as you felt the tears start forming again, “You don’t get it! We went through hell together, I fought beside you while you took advantage of me and my powers. You used me, Sebastian…you used me and threw me away when you saw nothing left to gain…”

“Is…is that really what you think?” He whispered, eyes full of a sad desperation that you couldn’t place.

You sniffle, avoiding his gaze altogether, “I needed you. After Ranrok…after losing Professor Fig…I was so alone. All I wanted was to see you, to talk to the one person I loved the most.”

You watched as Sebastian’s eyes glassed over.

“I couldn’t face you, not after everything you saw, everything that I put you through. That day in the Scriptorium, when I—“ His voice cracked, wet eyes glancing up at the ceiling,”—when I cast crucio on you, I thought I’d lost you. I had promised myself to never hurt you again after that night, and I…I failed. I failed myself, and most importantly, I failed you. I didn’t use you for your powers…I needed you beside me because you’re—you’re the only person besides Anne that I can’t live without.”

He drew closer, his soft freckles becoming more defined as he inched forward. Your breath hitched as he grabbed your wrist again softy, tracing down until his calloused fingers intertwined with yours. It was intoxicating.

“…I’ve missed you,” he whispered.

As you met his eyes, he closed the remaining space, crashing his lips to yours. All of the tension and emotions from the past year surged through your body, pushing against him as he wrapped an arm around your waist. Mouths moving in perfect tandem, he kissed you with a soft, longing passion that stole the breath from your lungs. He began to trail down your jawline, pressing delicate marks into your skin that threatened to burn you alive.

“What about Imelda?” You exhaled, his deft fingers gripping onto your backside as he wedged a knee between your legs.

You felt him smirk into your neck.

“…who?” He whispered into your ear before pushing you against the cold stone of the Undercroft, the devilish grin still evident as his lips found their home against yours.

#sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow imagine #sebastian sallow x mc #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fic #Sebastian Sallow angst #Sebastian Sallow fluff #Sebastian Sallow smut #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow fanfiction

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mckinleyhq · 1 month

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in the words of coach sue, ladies and gays....the time has come. our very first #moodboardmonday - this week's theme is 'new beginnings', so to compliment the theme, give us a moodboard that you think is a good introduction to your character. feel free to get as creative with this as you want, there really no wrong way to do this !!

as always be sure to tag the post #mhqinspo and #mckinleyqh:moodboard or post it in the appropriate channel in the server !!

here is a list of resources where you can find loads of moodboard gifs:

psychictwinsrph › moodboard gif tag with over 40 gif hunts of various fandoms

moodboard-gifs › an entire blog dedicated to moodboard gifs

kanitzofrp › moodboard gif hunt tag with various hunts from specific fandoms

dianasgifs › gif hunt of various moodboard gifs

dani-camp › masterlist of moodboard gifs by emotion/relationship ( some of these may be out of date )

dani-camp › moodboard gif hunt tag with various fandoms represented

#weekly task: all #weekly task: new beginnings #weekly task: moodboard monday #mckinleyhq:task #mckinleyhq:moodboard #weekly task: week two

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tiyoin · 3 months

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prima donna

it wasn’t much, but it was home.

there wasn’t a day that went by that you weren’t free, weren’t flying, weren’t dancing twirling and swirling on the dance floor.

wasn’t a night where you wouldn’t have your crips voice flood the bar. where people wouldn’t drop their tasks to watch in awe as your songs took flight, soaring through the skies as you bring them along your adventure

you ignored the creaky floor boards, the loose nails, and the odd stench. you helped fix up the moth chewed curtains, stayed later to clean up the seating areas and came in earlier to clean the bar and stock inventory.

yet those hours seemed to get lost in translation as your weekly cash flow never increased.

yes it was sleazy, but in a sinful establishment as this it’s to be expected.

albeit a less than stellar start to your career, vil had insisted that it was wise to have a ‘humble beginning’. you argued that being a forever orphan in a entirely new world was a good enough start, but you both knew it was less than wise to reveal such a thing.

information is power in showbiz after all.

so here you were, currently employed as an entertainer in the ‘soul of the hare; bar and lounge’. it was lounge known for their entertainment, especially for its signature themes. every quarter the owner would send a poll to their customers- no, their vip customers- only. they give them 4 options for this quarters theme. each and every time the theme would get picked, a new one would take its place in the next poll. and if a theme didn't get picked for 3 polls in a row, then it was 'executed.'

but no matter what theme they'd dress you up in, it was always accompanied by a pair of fishnets and an undersized costume. it was no doubt less than savory for your taste. the sexy clothes were a little too flimsy, the corsets were a little to tight, and the leather boots sometimes a little too tight to the point it'd give you blisters and leave your legs a blue-ish color you know they're supposed to be.

but the entertainment part of the job... some got luckier than others. like you.

all you had to do was dress up in your little (literal) costumes, put on your cheap makeup- until the stylists had a fit and demanded they use their higher end makeup- and sing your little heart out for the patrons.

the songs they would make you sing were according to the theme. if it was underwater themed they would make you into some kind of siren. if it was medieval themed with dragons and knights, they would make you into some kind of 'princcess.' yet you knew that if past princesses saw you... costume- if you could hardly call it that- they'd be rolling in their graves.

and the choreography- whenever they'd show you what you'd have to do it made your nose itch. and when they would make you practice said choreo... it made you want to crawl out of your skin as you imagined the mirror to be the audience. stopping their sleay business talks to gawk and leer at you.

it didn't matter the theme you part took in, or choero you were forced to preform every time you were on stage. but every time you would re-enter the living world and slip out of your own fantasy- gleaming, beady eyes would always be staring right back at you.

like canine eyes at ngiht you could see each glasses- head's reflective gaze through their clear speeks. no matter how long someones bangs were you'd still catch the light in their eye. it didn't even matter if you had a mask on, you could still feel their eyes tracking your every movement, every flinch and muscle spasm.

eyes were everywhere.

but…

this was your chance. you can put up with a few unpaid hours, a few patrons eyeing you and the silly props they made you preform with. the costumes weren't... too bad. one you got out of your comfort zone you were able ignore the pinching fabrics, and hey! the leather booty shorts for pirate quarter weren't that short if you pulled them down enough. and look! they even gave you a little top hat head band for the circus quarter! how cute!!

and a whip too… but that's besides the point

despite the religious sounding name, the soul of the hare is a mature club where lots of people do private business. where the illegal scoundrels would meet to make soul binding deals, or to simply come out for a drink and enjoy the scene. you're were able to recognize a few politicians, businessmen, and celebrities... and a few influencers who were promptly escorted out when they didnt listen to the 'no phone rule'

it’s a… speakeasy, of sorts; a speakeasy for the rich, famous, and important people are able to fuck around and find it without any consequences... hence the open dance floor below the creakily old stage.

it’s the greatest kept secret in modern high society.

and yet...it was heaven for its customers and hell for its employees.

you couldn’t remember a time when you got a full eight hours of sleep and didn’t have some kind of discoloration on you.

whenever you guys were getting to open for the night, the stage owner would always gather you up for a little pep talk of sorts. and yet he would always say the exacts same thing:

'to break the heart of a hare you will need to jack hammer it. you will need to beat it down until it can no longer fight, til it can no longer even flinch. to the point where the muscles are fully torn and the bones are grown to dust. it's you choice whether you're the jack hammer, or the hare.'

...each time she said it you cringed every time. it's stupid. thought of last minute and not as motivational as they think it is.

but regardless of how hard the work got, no matter how hard the girls sucked at being girls girls: this was your chance

this was the break the future legends of tomorrow- you got. nothing comes easy in life. you knew that first hand. from teleporting to a strange world, being in an all boys school for 4 years, and dealing with... him. you could do anything.

no matter how much you got ground into the ground- you'd allow it.

you'd allow the backhanded comments about your weight, about you background- you'd allow it. you'd allow them to use and abuse you in order to turn out perfect. you'd give them access to your soul, to your gifts.

vil had told you it was the ultimate sacrifice. that monetary distresses were temporary and if you were able to suffer unimaginable hardships and up your work ethic to the test: you would be rewarded with the will of steel. with a new found hunger; a blossoming passion blooming through out your very being as you're pushed and shoved and chipped away into the perfect gem.

this was the place where diamond in the roughs go to get shaped and polished into gemstones.

you weren’t sure if you regretted it or not. truly.

you have reached unimaginable heights here. you’ve found your niche, you’ve improved more than you ever your wildest daydreams deemed possible; more than your old teacher would even allow you to dream of.

when you danced you were not longer awkward and self conscious. your body moved as one the way a river would run through a forest. twisting and turning yet never stopping, never ceasing its flow no matter how big the rocks were, how shallow the bank was, especially if the water got thinner up ahead. when you danced you felt loose like water. free as a flowing stream.

every time you finished dancing you had nameless shadows snapping at your performances like the pretentious characters they were playing.

more than once you were offered a pay raise to entertain. to connect - with the customers. it was even highly encouraged by your managers for you to connect because of your popularity.

you'd always decline.

your fellow performers lunged and clawed for those chances, bled and practiced til their knees dislocated for those chances. they were willing to do anything for the opportunity to connect and make a lasting impression with the rich and powerful.

you didn’t need to. you had vil. you had one of your closest friend since college in your corner. watching your every move and guiding your every step. you didn’t need to do that side of the job since you already had vil’s support.

he'd make sure you were eating well, got the moves correct, and sung with the voice of a prodigy- nailing every high note and bridge that the others couldn't reach.

of course your peers were jealous. sure, they envied you having vil in your corner- but it's because you were given training they didn't have. you were trapped under the wing of a world star professional. and all they had were business men and second-tier wanna-be's.

but you also kept your soul.

... you wouldn’t forgive yourself if you succumbed to the industry and joined the other clawing prisoners and sign your life away.

if you didn't have your soul, then who were you?

you didn’t want to hand over your soul to some slime-ball producer. so, you locked it away in a box and carried it wherever you went while vil protected it's key.

for now.

it was a cautious trade. a hesitant sign as you made a legally binding contract with vil schoenheit. of course he supported you! but he wanted to have at least a little bit of compensation for his…investments. you can’t blame him can you?

after all, your improvement and growth is being sponsored by his kindness... and the fact that it would keep him up at night knowing your talents were going to waste. oh and money of course. lots and lots of money. he always made sure to remind you of that.

every time he took you outfit shopping he wouldn't even look at the price tags, every time you would find yourself laying in bed too sore to practice he'd give you a call asking how you were.

he'd especially call you when he had a sneaking suspicion that you were drowning yourself in a hidden bottle of vodka a entertainer snuck in for you last night. he made sure to drill into you the unspeakable number of dollars he would spend on you. barking at you and your carelessness while you were too hung over from your previous nights activities with said bottle of liquor.

you were glad he hadn't outright called you a burden. if he said then you decided you would kill yourself that very night.

you felt bad for how much you made vil stress and worry, truly! but improvement came with a price. talent can only get you so far until you’re evenly matched with everyone else. its either you're getting worse or they’re getting better. every day you fight for your place in the studio. fight for your place on both the big, old stage and the tiny platforms they'd allowed the exceptional dancers to dance on.

every night there’s another muffled sniffle in the dormitories coming from a different bunk each night. you were older, the fresh age of 21, there is no way you should be crying- no reason for someone so grown to be acting like such a child.

but a person can only take so much of the same rigorous routine for so long. can only push their limits for so long.

you couldn’t disappoint vil.

you couldn’t disappoint yourself.

you couldnt allow yourself to join the desperate party that agreed to sell their very essence for a lick of fame- refused yourself to not stoop to that desperate level in order to get ahead.

you had no choice but to believe in vil's words: that a persistent, hard work ethic and talent would be enough to make your dreams a reality. that all those hours of torture weren't for nothing.

but he failed to tell you about the in between of dreams and reality. forgot to mention reality actually.

you fought.

you cried.

you bled.

you were bruised. abused. for hours

your vocal chords were tested to their limits.

each practiced step of the routine on the wobbly stage ignited a new muscle group each day.

your spine screamed in agony each night when you gently, weakly laid yourself in bed. consciousness blinking out like a blown candle before you were awakened by the shrilling alarm mere hours later. only to repeat the same process again.

you can do it.

you have to do it

you have- must do it.

you can’t disappoint vil.

you can’t disappoint yourself..

each day got a little harder. each day you got a little quieter, struggling to keep up with your friends conversations. sometimes preferring to stay silent through out their conversations.

you no longer had any spare energy to waste talking; you used permanent vocal rest as a quick excuse when your friends asked you about your sudden silence.

… a performers pride is easily broken, so they were offended enough to give you the side eye whenever you would pass. how they would all scoff and roll their eyes at you.

it was okay, it was better this way. you didn't have anyone to distract you so it's time to bring on your A game. and yet... you were alone more than ever

blinking away the thoughts, you reassociated within the crowd of performers became to clap thunderously loud.

tonight was a birthday after all, and you were tasked with giving him his present- whoever he may be.

so fire up the lights and startup the music, because the 'soul of the hare' was now open for business.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #tiyoin 🔎#vil schoenheit #vil x reader #vil twst #yandere twst x reader #sorry guys- i started a new series :(#yes this is lounge singer reader EHEHHEHE #azul x reader #leona x reader #malleus x reader

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