#..... library is close but this still sucks i was looking forward to it all day..

[intertexts-moving]

KILLING MYSELF the library is closed for labor day...

#I FOEGOT THAT WAS A THING. NOW I HAVE TO WALK BACK. IN MY GAY LITTLE ALL BLACK OUTFIT WITH MY GAY LITTLE HEAVY ASS BACKPACK AND MY GAY #LITTLE CHRONIC FATIGUE DISORDER. AND IT'S MID 90S OUT. #..... library is close but this still sucks i was looking forward to it all day..

[ichorai]

weave ; coriolanus snow.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; there was a rose in his hand, you realized. white, just like the one he gave to you when he first met your parents. but it wasn’t for you, since he had yet to hand it over— you figured it was for lucy gray. you would’ve thought it was sweet of him, if only you hadn’t been aware of his motivations to gain her trust. still, you’d be a hypocrite if you criticized him for it. you’d also brought something for your tribute.

words ; 6.8k

themes ; mild fluff/angst, action

warnings / includes ; themes of classism, violence/injury, lucky flickerman is a close family friend of reader's, coryo's paranoia, he's not exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could </3

a/n ; there will be a fourth part loosely following the events of the movie (obv tweaked for the fic!)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

It was humiliating, how nervous he was. Reaping day. The Plinth prize was just a whisper away—he could nearly taste it: phantom traces of rich chocolate and edible gold on his dry tongue.

The day before the exams, you’d pulled him into the library for one last study session. You whispered that you would botch one of your papers for him—he certainly needed the Plinth prize more than you. And though he knew that you’d be far more deserving of it (your grades were near impeccable, and impossible for him to try and compete with), he also knew that his pride wouldn’t ever recover from such a blow.

Because how could he face you after that? Knowing that he was… inferior?

And so he told you not to squander your own achievements for him—that he’d figure something out. You spared him a hesitant look, before turning back to your books. 

Now that the exams were over and done with, Coriolanus briefly wondered if you went ahead and botched it anyway. An irrational sort of anger flared within his chest. Did you think you were better than him? That he was your charity case?

But all those terrible thoughts—the nastiness sweltering in his chest for days after the exams—dissolved almost immediately after seeing you. 

You met him in front of the academy, your dress a lovely shade of crimson, angular at your shoulders but tapering down into flowing ripples below your waist. Like fire, almost. You were glowing, he was sure of it, with the way the sun illuminated only the best of your features—the slope of your nose, the curling of your lips, the glimmer in your eyes. 

“Coriolanus,” you greeted with faux formality, tilting your head to the side. He was wearing his dress shirt again—the very one you watched Tigris mend and sew and tinker many, many times. Pinned to his waistcoat was another red rose, matching the shade of your own attire. 

He mirrored you, sweeping into a low bow and brandishing another rose out of seemingly nowhere. “For you, darling. Grandma’am said she could spare it—special occasion and all.”

“Oh, don’t call me that,” you said, rolling your eyes at the ridiculous pet name. It was what your parents called each other when they thought nobody was around to hear it—it made you feel old. “And tell Grandma’am thank you. It’s beautiful.”

He smiled, stepping forward to slot the rose behind your ear. “Ready for your Plinth prize?” he asked, fingers lingering by your face, thumb stroking down your jaw.

You sucked in a breath. “I don’t think it’s going to be what either of us expect.” 

There was a brief pause. Coriolanus’ eyes narrowed. Had you botched your exams for him? 

With a pointed glance to the academy halls, you nudged him forward. “Come on. Everyone’s already inside. Clemmie keeps asking for you.”

The two of you made your way in, weaving between red-uniformed academy students (the ones who weren’t at the very top) and professors. Behind another set of double doors were where all the top-ranking students were mingling. Sipping on bubbling glasses of colorful drinks, picking off delicate foods from ceramic plates. 

While Snow was stolen away from you by a few other classmate acquaintances, Sejanus was the first to greet you, shaking your hand enthusiastically. His palms were sweating. You didn’t quite mind. “Congratulations on finishing exams, Y/N. I know how hard you’ve been studying.”

You flashed him a genuine smile. “Congrats to you, too. I’m surprised you’re here at all, actually. I know how you feel about the reaping.”

His expression faltered. “Ma made me come. Moral support for my friends, and all.”

Ma. The word sounded foreign and heavy on the tongue. Unfamiliar… but rather inviting. Homely, in a way. Despite your initial silence, you managed to recover just fine. In a lowered voice, you whispered to him, “Well, my mother thinks it’s a rather dreadful affair. A waste of potential talent, sending children to their deaths, she says. I can’t help but agree with her. Father thinks it’s necessary, though.”

Sejanus pursed his lips. No doubt questioning the necessity of watching the people he knew from his childhood in the district getting brutally murdered. It looked like he was going to say something else, but before he could, Arachne’s high-pitched voice cut through the two of you. You grimaced, catching Coriolanus’ eyes as he stood right behind her. Judging by his mildly annoyed countenance, he wasn’t having a very good time chatting to her, either.

“Spill it, Sejanus,” she demanded in a prissy tone. “Who won the prize?”

The dark curls on Sejanus’ head shook as he silently scoffed. “Oh, no, I’m not going to ruin my father’s big day. No one here actually likes him but they do love his money… you know what that’s like, don’t you, Arachne?”

Her nose wrinkled in part-contempt, part-disgust. “Funny,” she deadpanned. 

Coriolanus stepped around her so he could curl an arm over your waist. “We all know who’s going to win it, anyway.” His grip squeezed over the smooth fabric of your dress. 

Arachne rolled her eyes and marched away, off to find someone else to bother. 

Left with just the two of you, Sejanus dipped his head and muttered, “Look, I know you guys have had high hopes for this but… there’s no prize. Not anymore.”

There was a terse pause. Your head reared back incredulously, searching Sejanus’ expression for any signs of fibbing. Then you looked to Coriolanus, eyes wide. 

“What?” he asked, words sharp, looking almost offended.

“I’m so sorry—”

Before Sejanus could finish his sentence, loud trumpets echoed throughout the hall and all the students began making their way to the plush velvet seats laid out in front of the podium. Coriolanus’ hand slipped away from you, balling into a tight, pale fist. You sat down first, Sejanus going on your right, Coriolanus to your left. Clemensia was on his other side, flashing you an attractive smile. You couldn’t find it in you to smile back.

If there was no prize, what were they going to dole out instead? A free holiday, all expenses paid? A new television? A pair of fuzzy socks?

Your rather prickly thoughts were interrupted when a woman stepped up behind the podium. She was dressed in lavish plum robes, intricate beige patterns weaving through the threads. From afar, it looked like there was flesh stitched onto the fabric. Her hair was greyed and a calculated sort of haphazard. One of her eyes was beady and blue, the other dark and large, almost eclipsing any of the white bits. 

She tapped the microphone once, earning herself a buzz of feedback, and tittered with unnerving laughter. Volumnia Gaul was what she introduced herself as. Her voice was low and gravelly. When she went on to say that she was the head gamemaker, your and Coriolanus' heads both snapped to Sejanus, but his gaze was fixed onto the ground, face grim.

After a bit more faddering about the future, Dr. Gaul introduced the creator of the games and dean of the academy—Casca Highbottom. He sauntered forward from somewhere within the seats, mind very clearly addled with a drug of some sorts. Morphling, you’d wager.

“I can’t believe they still allow him to speak in public,” Clemensia said to Coriolanus amusedly. He didn’t spare her a response.

He dragged on his little speech, as if he took pleasure in dangling the golden carrot in front of the donkey. Your hands twitched in an antsy fashion, and you neatly folded them over your lap.

“My own twenty-four top prospects. All waiting to hear the results of your hard studying in this prestigious institution, eager to know who’s won that Plinth prize, no doubt. And a golden future, with it.” He catered forward with a slurred laugh. “However… I’m here to tell you all that there’s been a change this year.”

Murmurs rippled throughout the crowd. Coriolanus’ chin lifted higher, back straightening.

“One last assignment to prove your worth,” Highbottom continued on. He began to pace back and forth, reminiscent to that of a caged tiger. “The esteemed citizens of the Capitol simply aren’t watching anymore. And if the games are to continue at all, there must be an audience, no?”

More murmuring. Your eyes narrowed. Twenty-four top students… twenty-four tributes… 

Oh, no.

You sucked in a quiet, barely noticeable inhale with the realization. It was enough for Coriolanus’ eyes to land on you, but you were staring at Sejanus, as if trying to get him to hear your thoughts. 

Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me we won’t have to play a hand in such a barbaric game.

“Head gamemaker Dr. Gaul has stepped in to… incentivize patriotic values with her own unique flair, starting with you. The Plinth prize will no longer be determined by who has the best grades.” 

For a moment, Highbottom’s gaze drifted over to you. Somewhere behind you, you could hear Arachne’s affronted, “Excuse me?”

You weren’t quite sure why she was upset. It’s not like she had a chance with the prize if it were grade-based.

“Instead, it will be decided by who is the best mentor in the hunger games.”

Your jaw clenched. Clemensia appeared bewildered. Coriolanus looked shaken. Sejanus was visibly distraught.

“As the reaping begins, I will allocate each one of the top twenty-four Capitol students a district tribute. A figure behind the scenes—one who must persuade them to perform for the cameras.”

This was met by a barrage of questions and protests from the students. Highbottom waved most of them away.

“Your role is to turn these children into spectacles. Not survivors… victory in the games is only one of the considerations. Your entire future rests on this last project.”

It was a terrible thing to imagine. Two dozen district lives in exchange for a bit of cruel entertainment for the Capitol. You were never fond of it, but you kept quiet on the matter because you had the luxury of turning your head away. Turning the television off and straying away from such brutalities. 

But now that you were being forced to look—no, more than that—you were being forced to pull strings, it was altogether a nauseating thought.

“Oh, and I must warn you… anyone caught cheating to give their tributes an unfair advantage…” Highbottom’s spectacled eyes swept over the lot of students. “Well, they’d just have no future at all.”

More trumpets rang throughout the hall. 

The Dean clapped his hands together. “Here we go! Let the reaping ceremony begin!”

Two large screens hanging over the podium lit up for the first district—a tall boy on the left, a sallow-faced girl on the right. Dean Highbottom began to list off student names as mentors. 

To none of your surprise, Sejanus got the male tribute from district two. Coriolanus shot him a thinly-veiled, wry smile over your shoulder. “You got the pick of the litter.”

Sejanus refused to meet his gaze. “You forget… I’m part of the litter.”

On the names rattled—districts three, four, five, six, and seven all passing by in a blur. 

Juno Phipps was called out for district eight’s male tribute. She sat somewhere behind you, and you could hear her puff a sigh of disappointment.

Then your name came straight after. 

Your head snapped from Highbottom to the screen, eyes widening. 

Wovey, her name was. She was a small little thing—you could see her frail, skeletal figure even through a grainy screen from afar. The striped dress she wore was patchy and frayed, darkened with soot and dirt. How old was she? She was probably one of the youngest tributes yet—you’d guess that she was barely thirteen, maybe even twelve. Something in your stomach jolted. Momentarily, you’d forgotten that this little girl was meant to be your school project.

District eight. The textiles sector. You blinked at the screen and shifted uncomfortably in your expensive-tailored dress—a dress that very likely came from the very same district. 

Highbottom called out names for the next district. Clemensia was pleased with her large, burly tribute from the eleventh district. Coriolanus was yet to be mentioned. You glanced over at him, before reaching out to take his hand. He didn’t look at you, but squeezed your palm in what you read to be silent gratitude.

And finally—with only one tribute left, Highbottom coughed out what sounded to be a laugh. “The runt girl from district twelve… she belongs to Coriolanus Snow.”

The grip he had on your hand tightened until it was bordering on painful. You said nothing about it. Highbottom had always been a grouchy man, but he seemed to have a fixation on making Coriolanus’ life as tormentable as possible. 

Lucy Gray Baird.

You watched the screen in fascination when a woman sauntered out from the ranks. Her hair was dark and curly, unruly in a way that suited her perfectly. Upon further scrutiny, you noticed small wildflowers woven through the strands, limp with time. She wore makeup, which wasn’t something you often saw in tributes. A deep blue eyeshadow and slightly-smudged rouge on her cheeks and lips. But what really caught your attention, however, was the dress she was wearing. It was a startling contrast to her name—with its bright, colorful ruffles on her skirt, the front of her corset bearing lovely details of flowers and vines. 

She was beautiful.

“What is that dress?” sneered Arachne, in an obvious attempt to rile Coriolanus up. “Is she some sort of clown?”

But suddenly, Lucy Gray stepped out of her path towards the stage and grabbed a girl to her right. Or, more accurately, the girl’s collar. She promptly dropped something down her dress and hurried off. Screams erupted from the screen as the girl writhed with terror, screaming for someone to, “Get it out! Get it out!”

Coriolanus stood abruptly, letting your hand go. You hadn’t noticed just how much feeling you’d lost in your arm, and gingerly shook it back to life.

The grainy screen showed a small snake skitter out of the bottom of her dress. 

When Lucy Gray finally made it up on the stage, she was harshly struck across the face by district twelve’s mayor. The blow made her head crack to the side and she went tumbling down. You frowned, but couldn’t take your eyes away. 

It took two peacekeepers to haul the furious mayor away. You mutely realized that the girl was the mayor’s daughter. 

Lucy Gray laid there, face aching. 

And then—singing. A small voice from within the crowd. Five seconds later, another joined. And another, and another. Even through the screen, when Lucy Gray tilted her bruised face up and struggled back onto her feet, you could see the pain in her eyes. Was that her family singing for her?

The woman made her way to the microphone. She began to sing with a quivering lip. Her voice was soft and smooth, silken to your ears.

“She’s singing?” Arachne commented in a pinched tone. “Is she out of her mind?”

“Shut up, Arachne,” you turned to snap at her. She made a strangled noise in the back of her throat, but didn’t say anything else, to your relief.

Coriolanus watched the screen with unsettled eyes. A million thoughts rushed through his mind at once. Most unpleasant, many rageful, some curious. 

And to bring her singing to a sudden halt, Lucy Gray screamed into the microphone. 

“YOU CAN KISS MY ASS!” 

The students burst into laughter, incredulous gasps, and scandalized murmurs. Coriolanus glanced around. He met your eyes, and you gave him half an amused smile. His tribute knew how to put on a show, that was for sure. 

He smiled back, and turned to the screen once more.

Lucy Gray lowered herself into a deep bow for the audience. District and Capitol alike. 

What an intriguing girl, you thought.

“She’s mentally ill,” Arachne buzzed. 

It took every bit of your willpower not to turn around and strike her across the face. But you thought back to the furious mayor, and of the little girl you were supposed to mentor, and kept your hands folded neatly over your lap.

You found yourself at the Snow penthouse that night. There was nothing to study, not anymore, so you lounged on a rickety chair and watched Tigris sew together pieces of blue fabric. She wanted to make you a dress, and though you had more than enough of your own, you couldn’t ever say no to her. Being around her took your mind off of the games, even for just a few minutes.

Coriolanus, however, was pacing back and forth in front of the two of you. Muttering angrily under his breath, nose twitching with disdain.

“He’s sabotaging us. That girl’s never going to win the games,” he hissed, plucking the rose off of his waistcoat and tugging at its petals. They fluttered down to the floor. “You saw her, didn’t you? She’s underfed. Unstable.”

Pot, meet kettle. 

You pursed your lips. “Highbottom said you’re meant to make a performance out of them. It isn’t just about winning.”

“Everything is about winning!” he asserted, carding a frustrated hand through his flaxen tresses. “If not the games, then the crowd. And Lucy Gray won’t survive a minute inside that arena.”

You sighed. Little Wovey didn’t seem too likely to survive, either. She wasn’t a fighter by any means. Maybe she was a fast runner? 

“So that means we have to make every second before then count.” Coriolanus reached out to cup your face, and you leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. Tigris shot the two of you a side glance and smiled to herself.

“What’re you planning?” you asked. 

“I’ll make her sing again,” he said, sounding so sure of himself.

This made Tigris’ brows cinch together. “I wouldn’t sing a note for you if I was her. I wouldn’t do anything at all… not unless I knew I could trust you.”

Coriolanus regarded his cousin with a cynical stare. “She’s district, Tigris. She knows we hate her and she wants us dead. How am I supposed to get her to trust me?”

“We?” you echoed, shaking your head. “I don’t hate her. I don’t even know her. Do you?”

“I—”

You lifted up a hand, effectively cutting him off. “Do you know her, Coriolanus?”

His jaw set with a click. You had your answer.

“How can you hate someone you don’t know? Look, you don’t have to like her. Just convince her that you do.” You crossed your arms, thinking of the little girl you were meant to mentor. It was going to be hard to like her, anyway, knowing that she was going to die soon. You wouldn’t let yourself get attached.

Tigris nodded emphatically. She paused her needlework and looked up at her cousin. “Imagine it was your name they pulled, and you were ripped from your home. I’d just want to know if somebody still cared about me out here. Don’t discount her just because she’s district, Coryo. You might have more in common with her than you think.”

Coriolanus plucked the last rose petal from the stem. You watched him with soft eyes, before drawing yourself up to your feet. 

“I think it’s time I head home. My family’s got dinner with the Flickermans tomorrow.” You placed a limp hand on his jaw and kissed his cheek, then drifted down to kiss his shoulder. He smelled distinctly of roses—a fresh sort of musk.

Just as you were about to pull away, he rested his hands on your forearms, rooting you to the same spot. “We should greet them at the station. Show them that they can trust us.”

You searched his face for genuinity. It wasn’t an entirely terrible idea.

“You sure?” you asked. It wasn’t a secret just how uncomfortable Coriolanus was around district folk.

“Yeah. We can… get ahead of the other students. You’re way more approachable than me, anyway. Maybe they’ll like you more,” Snow offered. A part of you wondered what he’d do if you said no. 

The thought of meeting your assigned tribute made your stomach do somersaults. Finally, you nodded. “Okay. I’ll meet you at the station, then?” 

Snow smiled in a charming manner. He dipped forward to slant his lips over yours, and you melted into his touch, almost forgetting that Tigris was there—until she made a noise of disgust and told the two of you, “Eugh! Do that somewhere else, please!”

Coriolanus was there before you, sticking out like a sore thumb in his academy red against the cold, rusted metals of the train cars. You wore a dark coat over your uniform, trying to look a little more discreet. 

“Are they here yet?” you asked, steps quickening to him. He took your hand and squeezed.

“Anytime now.”

The two of you stood shoulder-to-shoulder as you waited, exchanging light conversation. There was a rose in his hand, you realized. White, just like the one he gave to you when he first met your parents. But it wasn’t for you, since he had yet to hand it over— you figured it was for Lucy Gray. You would’ve thought it was sweet of him, if only you hadn’t been aware of his motivations to gain her trust. Still, you’d be a hypocrite if you criticized him for it. You’d also brought something for your tribute. 

A juice box. Grape. Still cold, beading with condensation.

You wondered if they had juice boxes out in district eight.

Another train rolled to a grueling halt to the track on your left. The cars were due for a good scrubbing, you thought. They were absurdly filthy—you weren’t even sure what its original color was meant to be.

Peacekeepers stepped up, disregarding the two of you, and began yanking the doors open. There were disgruntled noises coming from inside, and a few minutes later, the grey soldiers were pulling out the tributes.

You searched through the small crowd frantically. The boy from 11th—Reaper, you recalled his name was—caught your eye and just about snarled. You tried your best to ignore him.

When you found the little girl, little Wovey, you slipped away from Coriolanus and stepped forward. In your peripheral vision, you spotted him moving towards Lucy Gray.

Wovey was staring at a particularly uninteresting spot on the ground. She had her skinny arms wound around her midriff as if she was cold, despite the warm temperature that morning. When your shadow fell over her, her large, tearful eyes slid up to meet yours. 

“Hello, Wovey,” you whispered in what you hoped was a welcoming, not-at-all-intimidating voice. You told her your name, making sure to enunciate the syllables slowly, so she’d have no problem repeating it back. She didn’t, but perhaps she would later. “I’m your mentor.”

“Mender?” Her voice quaked.

“Mentor. I’ll be helping you in the arena, during the game. Here, I have something for you.” You reached inside your coat, eyeing the peacekeepers warily. Either they didn’t notice, or they were just pretending not to. You wondered how many of them knew your father. “Do you guys have juice boxes back where you live?”

You held out the cold little box for her to take. She blinked at it warily.

“It’s grape,” you said.

She reached out and took it from you. You offered her a gentle smile, and she mirrored you with a shy grin. 

“Can I share it?” she croaked. Wovey looked back at the male tribute from the same district—Bobbin. Were they friends?

“Of course, sweetheart,” you said warmly. 

Sweetheart? Where’d that come from?

The peacekeepers began rounding up the tributes, shoving them in the direction of a truck. You dipped your head at one of the grey soldiers as he took Wovey’s arm.

“Be gentle with her,” you told the peacekeeper. He met you with a stoic expression, but nodded once, before urging Wovey onward.

It was hard to tear your eyes away from her, but you forced yourself to do so, bounding towards Coriolanus and—

“Lucy Gray,” you greeted, just before saying your own name as you moved to stand beside Snow. Her dress looked even brighter in person, even if it was caked in filth. “I hope Coriolanus hasn’t scared you off yet.”

“Who’s this?” she asked, her dark eyes flitting from Snow to you. “Another mentor?”

“Mmh. Not yours though. I’m dedicated to the little girl from district eight,” you replied. 

There was something in her eyes that softened. 

“You’ll take care of her?” she asked.

You exchanged an uncertain glance with Coriolanus. “I’ll try my best to. Just like my boyfriend here for you.”

“Boyfriend, huh? Y’all make an attractive couple, that’s for sure.” Lucy Gray smiled, wide and genuine. It faded instantaneously once she spotted a peacekeeper approaching. She plucked the rose from Coriolanus’ unsuspecting hands. “Well… good luck with that.”

The soldier grabbed her by the arm and shoved her into the direction of the car.

Coriolanus stepped forward. “Wait, no—I, hey, I’d like to escort my tribute—”

They all ignored him. You pursed your lips, before following behind two of the soldiers, peeking around the bend. The truck’s doors were wide open for you to slip into. Snow met your eyes when you beckoned him over.

“We can sneak in,” you whispered. “When they’re not looking.”

“Are you insane? We don’t know where they’re going!” he responded in a lowered voice, taking your arm, not unsimilar to how the peacekeepers grabbed the tributes. “I don’t want you getting hurt because of me.”

“They won’t hurt me,” you told him. It didn’t dawn on you that Coriolanus was referring to the district tributes, not the peacekeepers. Quick and chaste, you pressed a kiss to his lips. “You coming?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He blew out a frustrated breath, before letting you go and giving you the green light by motioning for you to get a move on. Nerves peaking with adrenaline, you glanced around again, satisfied that no peacekeepers were looking, and rushed into the truck. You felt Coriolanus’ chest brush against your back as he hurried in after you.

You hid in the shadows of the trucks’ slants just as the peacekeepers slammed it shut. A victorious smile stretched your lips thin. You made it.

Oh, your father was going to murder you. Snow first, maybe, and then you. Your mother would probably find the situation all too funny. Though, as you found all the tributes’ eyes locked on you and Coriolanus, you realized that it probably wasn’t funny at all, not in the slightest.

“Hello,” you said in an awfully wavering voice. Coriolanus echoed your sentiment, looking as if he’d seen a ghost.

“What’s the matter, pretty boy?” Reaper asked him with a scowl. “You in the wrong cage?”

“No,” he responded with a minute shrug. “This cage is delightful.”

The truck practically swayed as Reaper stormed closer to him. You instinctively grabbed his forearm, pulling him back. But clearly not quick enough, seeing as Reaper grabbed the lapels of Snow’s academy uniform, shoving him up against the wall with a loud thud. Coriolanus let out an oomf with the impact, blinking sudden white stars out of his vision. 

“I’ll kill you right now!” Reaper hissed. 

“He’ll do it, too,” warned Dill. The girl from his same district. “Reaper killed a peacekeeper back in eleven.”

“I say we kill them both!” another tribute from somewhere behind sneered.

“I’m in. Nothing left to lose now.”

You stood frozen, afraid that one wrong move would send Reaper into a frenzy. Instead, you spoke calm and clear, “We’re here to help.” Your eyes found Lucy Gray’s, then traveled over to Wovey, squeezed in the corner. “We want to help you.”

Crossing her arms, Lucy Gray said, “Y’all got family back home? They’ll kill them if you hurt a hair on their pretty Capitol heads. Then you. ‘Sides… the blonde one’s my mentor. I might need him.”

One of the tributes from district four curled her lip in contempt. “How come you get one?”

“You all get one!” Snow told her, which earned him another enraged shove by Reaper.

She guffawed—Coral, yes, that was her name—with incredulity. “What, and we’re just supposed to believe you?”

“Why else would we get in here with you?” you said, exasperated. “We don’t even know where they’re taking you guys.”

Coral cocked a brow so high it nearly disappeared behind her choppy bangs. “Whose mentor are you?”

You limply waved your fingers at Wovey. “District eight’s girl.”

“So how come Skinny and Rainbow get special treatment? Why aren’t my mentors here?” Coral leaned down towards Lucy Gray in a taunting fashion, barely glancing over at Wovey.

Lucy Gray smiled, all toothy. “They just got inspired, I guess.”

A moment later, a loud rumbling came from outside the truck. Had they already arrived? There was a whir, and the whole truck began to tilt downward. The doors swung open and shocked gasps echoed throughout the metal cavern.

Reaper relinquished his grip on Snow to grab hold of Dill, and you launched yourself at Coriolanus, trying your best to grapple onto the grooves in the walls so you wouldn’t slip. Lucy Gray yelled as her foot slipped and she went toppling down—

You grabbed her hand, grunting with the combined weight of two people. Coriolanus’ grip on the wall slipped, and he bumped into you, causing your fingers to fumble.

The three of you went rolling down, out of the truck, back into the blinding sunlight. Your shoulder hit the ground hard, another sharp rock digging painfully into your back. That’d definitely bruise later. Disoriented, you dragged yourself up from the ground, frowning at the stinging sensation in your legs. Coriolanus was next to you the next second, grabbing at your face and arms, asking if you were alright. You nodded a few times, before pushing him away to see if the tributes were okay.

All of them were dizzy and aching, but other than that—seemed just fine. Or, as fine as they could be, given the circumstances.

Only then did you look around your surroundings. Metal fencing, dirt pen, discarded tires—Capitol citizens watching with wide, curious eyes. You caught sight of the Capitol Zoo’s insignia on an ice cream stand just past the fencing. 

“Ugh,” Coriolanus muttered, pale blonde hair properly tousled over his forehead. “What are all these people doing, staring at us? Don’t they have anything better to do? Don’t they have jobs? The children should be in school. It’s no wonder this country is in shambles.”

“The kids are on summer break, Coryo,” you deadpanned, shirking off your dark coat to give it a good dusting. 

Then, a familiar voice made your head snap towards the crowd.

Cameras. Mustache. Coin flip. 

“We’ll just give them a chance to stand up and catch their breath—I do have to admit I’m jealous of that big entrance! I’m Lucretius “Lucky” Flickerman, a man who needs no introduction.”

Oh, he certainly didn’t. He and your mother were tight-knit buddies when they went to school together, making the Flickermans good family friends. This was beyond embarrassing.

“Guess where I am today, folks! That’s right, the Capitol Zoo, where this year’s tributes will be held here, on display behind these bars for your viewing pleasure! That’s right, all twenty-four of them—” That was when he turned to point, and his eyes landed on you and Coriolanus. His words faltered. “What in Panem—is that academy rouge I see?”

You stiffly waved at the camera. Absent-mindedly, you passed a hand over your head to fix your hair. 

“Hey, Mr. Flickerman,” you called out with a grimace.

Lucky’s eyes bugged out of his head. He exclaimed your name in part-confusion, part-shock. “Hey, what’re you doing in there, kiddo? Who’s that dashing young man with you? We’re live!” He jutted a thumb back at the camera, its lens facing straight at you.

You spared him a stiff smile, eye twitching. Oh, your father was going to pop a blood vessel, you were sure.

“Uhm… well, uh—” The words caught in your throat and you lowered your voice so only Coriolanus could hear you. You had to ignore Lucky’s constant calls for your attention. “What do we do?”

His blue eyes, even paler in the bright sunlight, roamed over the onlookers. “We do what Highbottom told us to do,” he said, rolling his shoulders. He nudged you in the direction of Wovey, and began setting off for Lucy Gray. “We put on a show.”

You watched as the two, mentor and tribute, made their way to the fencing. As if there was a flip of a switch inside him, Coriolanus began to charm the onlookers and children, showing off his pearly whites, introducing himself and his rambunctious tribute. The children were enamoured with Lucy Gray, it seemed, judging by the way they bubbled over with questions about the snake, her colorful dress, her singing.

Lucky was having the time of his life interviewing them. If not for the current situation at hand—that being you trapped in a zoo enclosure—you would’ve laughed at his earnest excitement. Being a weatherman, a reporter, and an amateur-magician was apparently growing far too monotonous for someone with as large a personality as Lucretius Flickerman.

After much deliberation and cheek-biting, you turned and made your way toward Wovey, who was sitting down next to Bobbin on a tree stump. You noted the purple juice box, now crumpled and empty, discarded on the ground between them.

“Hey, guys,” you said, lowering down to one knee to speak to Wovey. “Do you want to go introduce yourself, sweetheart? Win over the Capitol citizens’ hearts?”

The young girl screwed up her face. Whether it was from shyness or distaste, you weren’t quite sure. Perhaps both. 

“I’ll be there with you. I promise,” you told her, holding your palm out for her to take.

Tentative, Wovey slipped off of the stump and clutched onto your hand. The two of you approached the barriers, with her nearly hiding behind you, clutching onto your coat.

Lucy Gray told the growing audience about her Covey family, a group of traveling musicians, and how she wasn’t actually from district twelve. Snow watched her with a somewhat proud, victorious expression. 

Lucky noticed you approaching, beckoning for the cameras to follow him as he made his way over to you. 

Quickly, he covered the top of the mic to lean forward and whisper, “Is the academy aware of what you’re doing?”

“No. Nobody told us not to, though.”

Lucky regarded you knowingly. “And does your father know about this little escapade of yours?”

“No,” you replied, frown-smiling. 

“Ooh. Good luck with that.” He spared you an amused wince. Then, he uncovered the microphone and gave the cameras another brilliant smile, introducing you with a flourish of his hands. “I’m here with a close personal friend of mine, Y/N L/N. And here we have their tribute, yes? Who might you be, young lady?”

You tried your best to encourage Wovey out of her shyness, going so far as to pat her shoulder and to gently push back the thin strands of hair falling in front of her face. She croaked out her name and her district, and Lucky asked her another myriad of overwhelming questions.

Whilst the crowd around the ever-charming Lucy Gray was watching her with curiosity and awe, the audience you were gathering looked upon Wovey with pity and something mildly akin to empathy.

There were perks to getting the youngest tribute, maybe. 

 She was telling them about how she liked to climb trees back in district eight. Yes, that’d be useful in the games. 

You looked over to see Coriolanus observing you with your tribute. He gave you a nod, perhaps a second too late. The man found himself wondering if he could somehow garner the crowd’s sympathy using Lucy Gray, too. How’d you manage to do that?

Before he could spare another thought on the matter, there was a dim buzzing coming from across the enclosure. A door opened, and four peacekeepers marched in.

“Looks like you’re going to get whisked away, kiddo,” Lucky told you, nodding behind. “Tell your mother I said hello. And make sure to take a nice, long shower before dinner tonight. Don’t want the smell of zoo hovering over my steak.”

You rolled your eyes as Lucky chuckled at his own quips, then looked down at Wovey with a far softer expression.

“I’ll be back. I’ll come back with more for you. Just hold on for me, okay?”

The frail girl nodded. She didn’t seem to want to let go of you, even when the peacekeepers began to semi-forcefully lead you away, out of the enclosure. Coriolanus wasn’t far behind, being manhandled far more aggressively than you were. 

The soldiers shoved you out the door and shut it with a heavy click of a lock, before marching off to the sides.

Coriolanus reached out for you, hands resting on your elbows. “How was it?”

“Could’ve gone worse.” You studied his features. There was a faint trace of dirt smudged across his jaw—no doubt acquired somewhere in the truck or when everyone came tumbling out. 

The two of you stared at each other for a moment longer, until you shook your head and broke into a smile, accompanied by a breathy laugh.

“Lucky called you a dashing young man.”

“He’s ridiculous,” he scoffed, and tugged you along to start walking. “Do you think either of us have a chance? At winning?”

The smile melted off your expression, and you grew somber once more. “Well… anything can happen in the arena. We just need to be smart about it. Neither of our tributes are fighters.”

Coriolanus stared off into the distance, brows cinched, heavy with thought. 

“They’ll need to be,” he said. “Surviving isn’t enough. Not in these games.”

Your lips parted, wondering what in Panem he could mean by that. Did he really expect Lucy Gray to become a killer overnight? Or was he planning for her to do something else? He didn’t seem to notice your perturbed disposition, and kissed the side of your head. 

Just as Coriolanus walked you to your doorstep, you gripped his hands, and your tone suddenly became very serious.

“I just wanted to tell you—before Highbottom announced the mentoring change, I was sure one of us would win the Plinth prize. And, well, I was going to give you the money if it came to me because I definitely wouldn’t need it. But now, since there’s a good chance neither of us are getting it…”

Snow’s features twisted with evident dismay. 

You squeezed his hands with yours. “I can get my parents to pay your university tuition, if neither of us get that Plinth prize. Please, Coryo, don’t take this as charity. Take it because I care about you. I don’t want you to get caught up in… winning these games. Whatever you’re planning for Lucy Gray… I can’t see it being anything she’d be willing to do.”

It might’ve been a trick of light, but you could’ve sworn you saw an irksome glint flash across his eyes. He bitterly came to the conclusion that you probably did botch one of your exams for him—not that that mattered now. Besides, it was you offering money, not him begging for it. The placating thought made it easier for his features to slip into a reassuring, easy softness. 

“I appreciate the offer, I really do,” Snow said, cradling your face as if you were a fragile piece of china. Yet his touch felt bruising all the same. “But you shouldn’t worry. I don’t think Lucy Gray is going to win. Not on her own, at least. So I’m going to help her—and Highbottom is going to regret ever trying to make an enemy of me.”

He dipped forward, brushed a whisper of a kiss along your cheek, and swiped his thumb over your bottom lip. 

And then he was gone.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow x you #hunger games fanfiction #coriolanus snow drabbles #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #young!coriolanus snow x reader #young!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow angst

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Yandere Jock X F! Bookworm reader pt 2

Graduation

Tw: manipulation, degrading language, possessive behavior, bondage, dubcon, spankings, bribery

A/N: Sorry this took a long time. Finals are coming up next week.

Kofi: Wanna buy me a coffee?

🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓

@azoart

Brad, the jock who took your virginity in a library, has surprisingly been a good boyfriend. He cuddles you every night, gives you all the clothes you can want, and gives you attention every day. Though, you practically live at his house now. Luckily, your parents didn't know a thing since they've been overseas since you started dating him.

"Honey, I can't believe we're graduating tomorrow," He coos, spooning you from behind. "Do you have any plans for afterward?"

He hopes you'll say no. The university should've rejected you, especially with all the money he offered them if they did.

"I am going to start getting ready for college. I got accepted into my dream college! Can you believe it?" You cheer, turning towards him with loving eyes.

"Oh, I sure can," Brad replies, barely hiding the discontent in his voice.

You've been dating him for six months. You knew every little cue and behavior when it came to him. You know when he's upset about something.

"Babe, what's wrong?" You ask, placing your hands on his bare chest.

"It's nothing, sweetie. We should probably get dressed. Graduation is in two hours," Brad replies, getting up from the bed.

As much as he is possessive and obsessive, he could never hurt you. He knew how much you looked forward to going to your dream college. Even though it pains him to let you go to college around all those other drunk, handsy, aggressive frat boys.

"Ok, I call the shower first," You say, getting up and walking into the bathroom.

You turn on the shower and look at your products next to his. You are practically his wife now. In fact, you two even share everything. Although, you would like a bit of personal space from time to time. Luckily, the distance between you and Brad should give you that.

"Babe, mind if I join you?" Brad asks, knocking on the bathroom door.

Of course, he can't stay away from you for long in the morning. He always liked his morning cuddles. Though, most of the time, cuddles turn into something more sexual.

"Come on in, Brad. The water always seems a bit warmer when you're near," You say, opening the shower door.

Brad steps into the shower and goes behind you, arms wrapping your waist. He presses your butt against his crotch and keeps the position. You can feel his dick press against your entrance begging to be let in.

"Brad, can you grab the shower head? I wanna wash my hair for graduation," You tease, bending over to show your pussy more.

Brad's dick jumps excitedly, and you can feel his precum dripping onto your sex.

"S-Sure thing, Y/N!" Brad stutters, taking the shower head down and placing it between your legs.

You stand up as a jolt of pleasure goes through your spine. Brad forces you back down and masturbates as you moan.

"That's right, babe. Let me get you off."

"Brad, I'm close!"

Brad switches the pressure settings, and you go over the edge. You release and practically have to have Brad's arms keep you from falling to the floor. Brad holds both sides of your ass and places his face onto your pussy. He laps up your cum and juices, making you twitch again. You see his dick and wrap your legs around his upper body to keep you in place. He stands up, and that's when you take the opportunity to give him an upside-down blowjob. You wrap your soft lips around his tip and lightly kiss and suck it. Brad's legs buckle a bit, then you decide to play dangerously and put his whole dick in his mouth. Your hands play with his balls, stimulating the boy whose semen you wanted oh so much.

Brad makes you cum again, and you moan, his dick still in your mouth. He cums shortly after, his hot cum shooting into your mouth. You let go of his upper body and dick, letting Brad sink to the tub floor.

"You ok, babe? Was my mouth that good?" You ask, giggling as Brad's eyes begin to become unfocused.

"Yes, yes, it was. That was one of your best blowjobs. I guess playing with my balls made the difference," Brad says, using the shower head to clean you. "We should probably wash ourselves so we don't smell like shower sex at graduation."

"I guess you're right," You say, grabbing a shower gel.

~~~~~

Graduation was an exciting moment. Once you have a diploma, you begin to think about your relationship with Brad.

He's a great guy. He treats me well and knows to pleasure me. But it is very unnerving how Brad gets jealous. My pre-calc teacher still won't look into my eyes anymore. Besides, we're both going to college. Maybe we should break up?

"Y/N? Y/N! You were spacing out on me. I asked if you wanted takeout," Brad says as he unlocks his car.

"Um...takeout's fine. Your choice," You respond, getting inside and taking off your graduation cap.

"What's wrong, honeybun? Feeling hangry?" Brad asks, slipping a hand around your ass.

"It's just that we won't be able to see each other often in college-"

"I know, but we can make this relationship work."

"Brad, we should break up."

Brad slams on the brakes, and you hold onto your seatbelt.

"You want to what?"

Brad's face twisted with anger, his face flushing with blood. You've never seen him like this. He drives the car straight to his house and barely avoids the mailbox.

"Get out," Brad says, parking and unlocking his car.

You shakily unbuckle yourself and step out of the car. Brad grabs your arm and pulls you inside.

"Brad, you're hurting me!" You squeal, trying to remove his hand.

"Shut up, slut!" Brad yells,  throwing you on the couch and locking the front door.

Hearing Brad call you a slut pierced your heart. He completely shattered your feelings.

"You're so stupid sometimes. I thought I made it clear that we'll be together forever. There is no breaking up," Brad growls, walking around the living room. "Looks like I have to show you my feelings again. Take your gown off."

"No. I'm not your little sex doll to use whenever you're horny or frustrated. This relationship isn't good for either of us!" You rebuttal, closing the distance between you and Brad. "I love you, Brad. But I can't take the jealousy around everyone in my life anymore. I need distance. We need distance."

"We need intimacy. We need love. You've been pulling away from me as school started to end. We're both adults. Let's talk or work this through."

Brad wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to his chest.

"I love you, Y/N. Please don't leave me," Brad pleads, hugging you tighter. "You won't slip away from me."

You feel the air slip out of your mouth, and your eyes begin to get tunnel vision. You pass out in Brad's arms.

"I'll love you forever and forever," Brad coos, taking you into his arms.

~~~~~~

When you wake up, you're in front of a table and strapped to a chair. You feel something soft underneath you.

"Brad, where are you?" You groggily ask, lifting your head.

"You're sitting on me, honeybun. I wanted us to be close for dinner. I hope you like the spaghetti and wine!" Brad coos, using his free hand to twirl a fork. "I hope you like the outfit I provided."

You look down and see yourself wearing red lingerie over a see-through robe.

"Now say 'ah'!" Brad commands, putting the fork near your mouth.

You turn your head, but Brad grabs your chin and forces it open. You feel the fork go into your mouth. After nearly choking on the noodles, you cough.

"Brad, I'm sorry. I'm your stupid, attention-seeking, slutty girlfriend! Just please let me go!" You cry, shaking in your restraints.

Brad undoes the restraints, and you fall onto the table when you try to stand up.

"Baby, why would you describe yourself with such vile words?" Brad asks, taking you into his arms.

"That's what I am, right? You said it yourself," You begin to cry as you remember Brad yelling at you.

"Oh baby, what have I done? I didn't mean any of that. I'm the slut. I fucked other girls to get your attention before we started dating. You've done nothing but share the same loyalty I have for you in this relationship," Brad consoles, letting you cry on him. "I promise I'll make this right."

You don't know if it's the lack of oxygen or the dehydration from all the crying, but you ask Brad for the unthinkable.

"Brad, have sex with me," You say, looking at your boyfriend with teary eyes.

"What?"

"Have sex with me. I've always had sex with you because you wanted it. It's time for you to do something for me, for once."

"Y/N, I'd kill for you. You know that, right?"

"I know, and that's part of why I love you and want to break up. You can't focus your entire life around me."

"Honeybun, tonight-no this whole summer, is going to be about you!"

Brad throws you over his shoulder and carries you to his bedroom. He turns on the light and puts you on the covers. You back up until you feel the bedframe. Brad strips till he's naked, and watch Brad crawl towards you like a predator about to pounce on its prey. His eyes are full of love and lust, and there are practically hearts in his eyes.

"You better get ready because I'm going to make all of your body feel loved tonight," Brad flirts, closing the distance and spreading your legs. "Maybe a bit of nostalgic foreplay before the main event?"

Brad's hand goes to your butt and gently rubs it.

"Brad, maybe we should think about this?" You suggest, trying to hold him off as you start to regret what you asked of him.

Brad kisses your neck and cheek.

"Sorry, babe. I'm giving you all of my love tonight," Brad replies, gently turning you onto your stomach. "God, I'm-you're going to enjoy this."

Brad peels off your panties and begins to spank and kiss your ass.

"Brad!" You accidentally moan, putting your face into his cologne-smelling pillow.

"Yes, honey! Feel the pleasure!" Brad moans, spanking your ass harder and faster.

"Ooh, I can't take it anymore!" You whimpered, feeling the pleasure build-up and release.

Brad sticks three fingers in your sex and pulls them out to taste your cum. He sticks his cum covered fingers in his mouth like a hungry animal and practically shivers with pleasure from the taste.

"Brad, I-I think I'm ready," You stammer, nervous about how rough Brad is going to be.

"Don't worry, I won't get rough unless you want me to," Brad reassures, lovingly squeezing your butt.

You flip onto your back and spread your legs for him. Brad positions his hips so it lines up with your vagina. Brad sees how nervous you are and kisses you as a distraction. He manages to put half of his dick inside before you notice.

"Brad!" You squeal, feeling his arms wrap around you. Preparing to begin thrusting.

"It's ok. It's ok. Brad isn't going to hurt you again," Brad coos, kissing down your neck.

You wrap your arms around his upper body and look into his eyes.

"Do it," You say.

Brad kisses you on the lips and puts his whole dick inside you. You both moan from the feeling, and that's when Brad begins to lose himself. Brad's thrusts start to become fast and erratic. However, you feel euphoric and want this moment to last forever.

"Oh fuck, baby! Keep going!" You encourage, moving your hands down to Brad's ass. You spank and grope his ass. "Keep going! Keep going!"

"I'm going to fill you up with my love! All of it!" Brad moans, starting to drool like a dog. "OH SHIT! I'm cumming! Fuck!"

Brad cums in you while thrusting and eventually slows to a stop to orgasm. He cums inside you two more times and crashes on top of your body.

"Brad, that was wonderful," You compliment, stroking Brad's hair.

Brad kisses your boobs and lets one hand playfully rub a nipple.

"I'm glad I made you happy," Brad says, kissing your forehead. "And don't you worry your little head about getting pregnant. I bought multiple packs of the morning-after pill. I remember how worried you were about getting pregnant after your first time in the library."

"Great, hand me one," You say, lovingly looking into Brad's green eyes.

"Sweetie, that's for in the morning. In case you haven't noticed, I haven't pulled out of you yet. I'm not going to let any of my love go to waste, even if it's a wet dream."

"Brad, I love you," You say.

You feel Brad's dick harden inside you after you say the words.

"I love you too, honeybun!" Brad exclaims, excitedly kissing you on the lips.

#yandere jock x reader #Yandere jock #tw smut #tw dubcon #x you smut #yandere dubcon #yandere smut #f! reader #f! reader smut #male yandere #smut

[bisexual-horror-fan]

"The Best Gift He Can Give." Mickey Altieri X AFAB! Reader.

Okay, so the amazing and fantastic @mrsaltieri-real had a birthday a while ago, and I wrote this as a gift. I edited it to make it reader insert friendly and now I am sharing it with all of you! I hope you all enjoy it.

---

Rating. Explicit. Length. 5.4K. Mickey Altieri X AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Your Boyfriend David Fucking Sucks. Your Boyfriend Cheats On You. Apologies To Dudes Named David Who Don't Suck. Stalking. Breaking And Entering. Murder. Blood. Gore. Violence. Making Out. Grinding. Vaginal Fingering. Eating Out. Eating Ass. Hair Pulling. Spanking. Praise. Degredation. Rimming. Vaginal Sex. Cream Pie. Confessions Of Feelings.

---

There are people in this world who do not deserve anything. They don’t deserve kindness, or understanding, they don’t deserve friends, they don’t even deserve to breathe. One such asshole was your boyfriend, David. You don’t even know why he is your boyfriend, honestly you’ve had friends ask, and you are never sure much what to say. He treats you terribly, he is mean to you, rude, constantly picks fights, and it isn’t like you can say, “Well at least the sex is good-”

Because it is very much not. You’d been together for four years, and it had never been good.

Mickey didn’t know about that, though. All he knew to start is that you were cute, and he liked how you looked, the rest started to become revealed to him through watching you over time. He remembers the first afternoon he started to pick up on that very clearly. He was in the library, one table over, trying to do some actual work, sure he wasn’t paying for his degree, but he couldn’t exactly flunk out either, and he overheard an interaction, “Do you have to turn your pages so loud?”

Your head snaps up, looking over to him, Mickey’s own eyes flick up, but his head doesn’t raise, brows furrow in question mirroring yours as you ask, “Excuse me?”

“You are turning the pages of your book really loudly-” He drew out your name, focused on it, and that made your expression turn from somewhat annoyed confusion to outright disgust, a roll of your eyes. “Fuck off David.” 

His tone made Mickey’s skin crawl, “Sooo mature, this is a library, can’t you keep it down and show some class?” 

Mickey had to fight to keep his jaw from dropping, who the fuck was this guy, and why was he so comfortable talking to you like that? He thought boyfriends were supposed to be fucking nice to their girlfriends, and here he was treating you like he hated you, as if you were shit on the bottom of his shoe.

That was not the only time he saw you being treated so shamefully by David, either. Seems whenever he overheard, walked by, you were being talked down to by him or already mid-fight. 

Worse still he would complain about what you wore deriding any skin you wanted to show, and what you were into, he’d overheard him belittling your love of movies too. “How the fuck can you do that shit?”

“Do what shit, David?” You sighed, and he asked, “What the same fucking movies over and over, don’t you ever get bored?”

Your reply comes out almost bored, edging on annoyed, “Those same movies over and over are definitely more interesting than talking to you so-” 

“Woooow, is that any way to talk to me?” He’d ask, and Mickey would think to himself that you should treat him a Hell of a lot worse for how he acts.

You and Mickey had been friends in secret for a while, it had been a very quiet affair, mostly because David would be threatened and jealous, something that bugged Mickey, but he was just glad for the time spent with you and to get to know you. Small moments carved out whenever that prick wasn’t around became absurdly meaningful. 

One day he found you alone on a park bench on campus and seemingly very upset, he couldn’t leave you like that, your boyfriend isn’t around and so he comes forward until he is close enough to ask, “Hey uh, you good?”

Head raises, and you sniff, hands rushing to wipe at your nose and mouth, you nod shakily, mouth dry as you say, “Yeah, totally, so, so good.” 

He lets himself smile this kind of sad smile as he sits down beside you, humming out, “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Leave it alone.” You sigh, and he presses, “No way, there has to be a reason you’re this upset and I wanna know.” 

You slump back further into the bench, averting your gaze as you confess, “You caught me, M’ not good at all. I just found out that my boyfriend fucking cheated on me.” 

Immediate anger flares as does genuine concern for you, both emotions taking hold makes his eyebrows raise and his hand reach out to touch your elbow, your attention snaps back to him. Your eyes meet, and he says, “You can talk to me.”

“What is there to talk about?” It’s said very quietly, and his grip on you tightens by a fraction as he encourages, “Plenty. It isn’t healthy to keep this shit bottled up, what he did was fucked, talk to me about it.” 

You haven’t opened up in such a long time but right now, something in his eyes beckons you and the urge overtakes, you feel safe and think, maybe you should open up. Your stomach is churning, and you think, what harm could it do? You start to tell him, a verbal torrent that once it began it was impossible to stop, as you vent about David and the series of horrible things he had put you through in your relationship. He listens, and only when you stop for breath does he say, “You don’t deserve to be treated like this, you could do so much better than an asshole like him.”

A small shrug as you brush him off, “It’s easier to stay in this relationship because it’s all I’ve ever known. Even if I broke things off with him, he’d never really let me go.”

“What do you mean he wouldn’t let you go?” His question isn’t entirely unexpected, but you still struggle for a moment to respond, “I dunno, I just…I know he would put up a massive fight, and I couldn’t ever just make a clean break. He wouldn’t let that happen.” 

He licks his lips tentatively, an almost nervous action, “He…He doesn’t own you. Hon, you know that, right?”

You looked over at Mickey and said quietly, unconvincingly, “I know that.” 

He wasn’t sold. He hated the look in your eyes right now. Not only that, but he tried to break the tension and asked, “Is the sex that good or-?”

You laughed, head tipping back, genuine smile crossing your face, you shake your head as you catch your breath and tell him, “God no, it’s terrible! So vanilla, nothing but missionary, he never even eats me out.” You exhale and expound further, “He expects me to blow him too.” 

“Fuck off no way.” His reaction pulled another laugh out of you, and he insists, “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.” You sighed. He speaks with conviction, anger but not at you, never at you, more frustration at your situation and how you seemingly have just accepted it. “Why the fuck do you put up with this asshole? Seems like you are doing all the giving with no take.” 

A shrug as you tell him, refusing to look at him any longer, “I’ve grown used to it, it’s been just so long of the same thing, you know?” 

That was fucking bullshit. Sunk cost fallacy much? Clearly you were never going to get out from under this jerk’s thumb on your own, so he was going to do something about this. It would take some work, but you were more than worth it. He started to stalk him, determined to get real dirt on him, he learns his routine and becomes far too acquainted with even the most basic and mundane things about your boyfriend. 

It doesn’t take him long, around a month in is when Mickey catches David in the act of cheating, he was fucking some girl from his film class. 

It was infuriating! Here he has you, a total fucking catch, and he doesn’t appreciate you, mistreats you, and cheats on you on top of all that. What a complete piece of fucking trash. 

He has every intention of telling you when he has the adequate proof-

Wait.

What if he tells you and you still stay? You seemed so downtrodden, what if not even this is enough to convince you to leave? Fuck, that would be terrible, but he couldn’t let that hold him back. 

He just needed to stay on task, stay focused, and this could work out. He clung closer, tried to be around you more and provide more support, but that, as it turns out, only made it harder. Having to be confronted so frequently with the damage he was doing to you, how sad you were, it made him hurt in kind. He really fucking cared about you.

On top of all of this, his presence is apparently putting more pressure on your relationship. He comes across you and David having a loud and public altercation a few days later, as he gets closer he realizes it is about him. 

“You can’t tell me what to do!” You insist, and David bites back, “Oh, can’t I?”

“No! You can’t! What is the problem anyway?” You try to implore, and he isn’t having it, “I don’t like him! No, scratch that, I fucking hate him. You shouldn’t be talking to any guy, I don’t want you to even look in his direction-”

“You are so ridiculous-” 

He can’t stay. He can’t listen to this. Furthermore, he can’t stand idly by any longer. He is going to do something about this. 

Breaking into David’s place was easy, taking his time is what was difficult. He eases into his bedroom, costume on, knife already in his hand, and comes up to the bed. You were back at your own place, far away and hopefully peacefully sleeping, blissfully unaware of just what he was about to do for you, of the devotion he has and was about to display. 

He wanted to spit in the fucker’s face for what he did to you, more than that he wanted to main and mutilate him, wanted to inflict as much physical pain onto him as he inflicted mental pain onto you. He reached down, he ripped the blanket back, and with one smooth motion he stabbed the sharp blade into David’s stomach. 

The reaction was immediate, his eyes snapping open, mouth open in a soundless scream as it seems all the air leaves him, hands flying to his stomach trying to clutch at the blade but stopping short, afraid to touch the intrusion. He ripped the knife out and then stabbed it back in, immediately. He twists, David inhaled as much as he could but then breathed out, hiccuping on the air, it becomes a complete bloodbath. Mickey cuts, he stabs, he hurts him as he can’t hold back, and David chokes out, “Why?”

Mickey laughs, this cold and calculating kind of laugh before he takes the mask off, and then he starts to talk, “You are a pathetic excuse for a man, a worthless piece of trash-” 

The knife is ripped out and brought back down harder than before, the steel scrapes bone, and he sobs, “-you don’t deserve someone like her, you know that, right? You’ve been mistreating her for way too long.”

The metal wrenched free and then drove deeply inward again, the next sound of pain is a short gasp, Mickey tells him further, “That is why I am doing this, I am going to step in and take over.” 

David looked so pitiful, tears down his cheek, bloodstained and movements slowing, weakening. Mickey leaned down and told him lowly,“I’m going to make her feel so, SO much better than you ever did.” 

He is unrecognizable. Organs are laying all around him, cuts on his face making it, so his identity is basically gone, partially skinned in places. He wished he could have taken the time to skin him alive, fillet him like a fucking fish, but even that would be too good for him. He is sure that he has drained him of about half of his blood, the mattress is soaked, heavy and thick, there is a squelching sound when Mickey gets off the bed. The blood has soaked through the robe, it is staining his shirt and jeans he is positive of it, the handle of the knife is slick, he can feel coagulated blood that has gathered between his fingers, the clots are slippery and almost black.

There is one place he wants to be and it’s with you.

He goes to your place. 

It is obscenely late when you open the door, you are in your pyjamas, you look fucking gorgeous to him. 

“Mickey?” You rub over your eyes, suppressing a yawn, you ask, “What are you doing here?”

He pushes past you, comes inside as he starts to talk, “I had to come see you, I just did something amazing tonight-”

You close the door, he is talking quickly, a mile a minute, excited, manic. “I was thinking about what told me about David and I just got so fucking inspired, you know? So I decided I just had to do it, so I did but, darling, you need to tell me, what else didn’t he do for you?”

“What he didn’t do?” You repeat, softer, confused, and he nods, brows raised and eyes alight, mischievous, “Yes, tell me all the things he doesn’t do for you.”

It is then that you take him in awake enough to register, and notice what he is wearing. A black robe, almost plastered to his body, your eyes flit downwards, and you see that it’s shiny in a particular way that tattles on it being wet, but wet with what? Eyes catch red droplets on the ground coming off of the frayed edged of the black fabric, your gaze shoots back up. You smell the iron, and you see the small flecks of red on his face, and so the question tumbles out, “What is with the robe and is that fucking blood?”

This half smile on his face and a cock of his head as he tells you as if it couldn’t be more obvious, “I just killed David. For you sweetheart.”

You don’t feel angry or upset, to your complete surprise, you feel an insane and immense sense of relief that David is gone. You no longer have to put up with him. 

A sharp inhale as the feeling sinks in, you let it wash over you, not fighting it, letting it soak into your bones. Another question spills out as you ask, “What did you do to him?”

His grin is so wide you worry it hurts his face. 

“I snuck into his apartment, broke in with no issue, I crept into his bedroom and I stabbed a knife-” He brought one foot up, boot rested on the chair at your desk, hauling up the robe, careful not to get blood on more than he had already his hand grasps the hand of the knife. He unsheathes it from the holster that was strapped to his leg, his foot comes back down, he is holding the knife up, you can see the dried blood all over the blade and his hand, he continues to expound, “-this knife, into his stomach.”

He mimics the motion, smile still pulling his features tight, “He gasped and struggled, it was pathetic. I ran him through over and over, the sound was wet, the blood gushed.” 

A sigh crosses his lips, he is looking down at the blade, turning it over in his hands. You, too, are fixated on the glinting metal as it moves from one hand to the next. He keeps talking. “You’d think sound would be a concern. That he’d be screaming his fucking head off, right?”

You look up, he is staring at your face, expectant, you respond to the question, a shaky nod. He continues on, a point of his knife, “Wrong. When you stab someone right, it sucks all the air out of their lungs.” The images his is giving fills your head, of David lying there, bleeding and as Mickey put it, pathetic. He is still expounding. “I was relentless, kept stabbing him, he had no chance to catch his breath. You can’t scream if you can’t breathe.”

You listen enthralled as he describes how he cut flesh from bone, how chunks fell away, digging fingers into open wounds, manually separating cartilage and skin and muscle apart just because he could. He speaks of how much blood he drained and by the end of it you were breathing much harder as was he. Almost no space between the pair of you.

He is looking in your eyes, and he speaks, “I ask again, what did he never do for you?” 

You can’t help it, inquiring, “Why do you want to know so bad?” 

“Because sweetheart-” He sets the knife down on your desk, his hand reaches out to take yours, tacky with partially dried crimson, and he says, “-baby, darling, I want to make you feel all the things you’ve missed out on the past few years.” 

You are as explicit in describing what you’d been missing as he was when describing the violence he did to David. 

“He never made me cum with his mouth, his dick, not even his fingers. I haven’t felt a hot tongue on my clit in fucking years.” You start, a deep inhale before you force it out, speak in hushed tones, “He only ever fucked me in missionary, he never put a hand on my throat and choked me, never pulled my hair, he never praised me, fuck, Mick, he never even degraded me.”

You sigh now, “Never spanked me, never ate my ass, God do I want someone to eat my ass and above all else, he never overstimulated me-”

He cut you off. His mouth crashing into yours after far too long, he kisses you deeply, and you fall into it, into him. A moan into his mouth, hands reach out, fingers tangle in the sleeves, they feel damp, you flex your fingers, you squeeze, beads of blood squeeze through your fingers. Your tongue runs over his bottom lip, and you revel in the taste of him. Christ it was never like this with David, a simple kiss with Mickey was serving to do you in, the graze of his lips against yours, of his tongue brushing yours was sending sparks throughout you. 

Feet stumble back, you pull him with you, keep him near, unwilling to break the connection you’ve made and yet you do, a quiet mumbling of, “Get this fucking robe off-”, pulling on his sleeves for further emphasis. The contact is broken for him to listen and obey, he pulls the robe off and drops it onto the floor, the blood has soaked through to his t-shirt he was wearing, and again you are confronted with what he did. He killed David for you, the evidence of his care for you, of his total devotion is splattered all over him, plastering his shirt to him, soaked into thin fabric. 

This time, you are pulling him back to you, greedy and needy as you do so. Mouths meet again as you are moving backward, the back of your knees hit the edge of your mattress, and you let yourself fall, tugging him down with you. 

His leg slots between yours as his lips descend on yours again, you sink further into the mattress as he, in turn, sinks into you, melting into the contact, his leg presses closer, knee is tighter to you and that makes you inhale sharply. That sets something off in him. 

One of his hands moves, threads in your hair, and he tugs, it forcefully breaks the kiss and pulls a moan from you at the delicious rush of pain. His mouth moves, presses over your jaw, down your throat, and he makes your hips move on their own, grinding against him, desperate for more already. A squirm of your hips as you drag your clothed slit against his solid thigh, and the wash of pleasure makes you have to suppress a shudder, a whining moan held back as well as you bite your bottom lip. 

He notices immediately, pulling back from your neck, another tug of your hair, and he makes you look at him, “None of that shit, I don’t fucking care how late it is, I don’t care if every son of a bitch on this entire floor files a noise complaint, I want to hear you, no holding back.”

You are stunned, speechless, your hips shift, and you are drenched, underwear plastered to you and one of his hands locks onto your throat, he squeezes and says, “I’m not hearing you say yes.” 

You just cannot believe everything you’ve ever wanted has fallen into your lap, you choke out, “Yes, yes, please, fucking yes-”

He shuts you up with another kiss and that is how things seriously escalate, both of you rushing to undress each other. You hadn’t been wearing much to sleep, the tank top and shorts were removed, his shirt and shoes are off now, and he stops. You are looking up at him, admiring him the same way he is you, even with almost all his clothing removed there is still the mark of the crime he committed, blood left on his torso after leaking through his shirt, splatters on his arms, the small flecks on his face. He is looking at you like you are a full meal with nothing more in his way than damp lace, “Fucking Christ-”

He sighs, his fingers trace the curve of your breast before he fully takes it in his hand, he looks helpless in regard to what he wants to do, he follows the impulse, he leans down, and his mouth latches onto one of your nipples. His tongue circles and you sigh, arching up into him. 

His teeth graze as one of his hands slips between your thighs, he only gets one pass of his fingers over the wet material before he decides that isn’t good enough. Fingers hook in the thin garment, and he pulls, he hopes you didn’t give a shit about them because he cannot be bothered to remove them properly, he pulls until it rips and throws it aside. No chance of you complaining because his fingers are on you, strong digits press to you bare for the first time. 

Your eyes roll back with a soft, “Oh my fucking God-” which Mickey absolutely eats up as he starts to move, fingers trace slowly, dipping low, catching some mess and dragging it up, using it as lube to rub your clit. 

The increase in pleasure was immediate, your body slowly starts to tense as the feeling digs into your bones, you fully give in to what he is doing to you. 

“Do you know how much I’ve poured over this?” He asks, and you say quietly, “No.” 

“So many nights.” He confesses, his fingers pick up the pace, tight circles rubbed, and he tells you more, “I’d think about this, about having you under me, about doing-” Two fingers ease inside of you, and he moans like it’s his pleasure, breathing out, “-this.” 

“You feel better than I ever thought you could, so fucking wet, so soft.” He groans, and you arch closer, his palm presses nearer, he moves and works with you, fingers curling into that sweet spot and hand grinding over your clit. You listen, and you feel, minutes later, very quickly between his hushed words and expert touch you are shivering and telling him, “M’ close Mickey-” 

“Fuck yes, do it.” The firm command makes it impossible to stop, you tip over and cum. It feels phenomenal, it’s been ages since anyone has done this, showed this level of care and investment in your enjoyment. He doesn’t relent, keeps his pace steady and consistent, and draws out every bit of feeling he can from your high. 

He doesn’t let you rest, your body sinks back into the mattress, you are panting, and he slides his fingers out of you and right into his mouth. Not only that, but he tastes you for the first time and moans from the salt and tang of you coating his tongue. 

“You taste better than anything I’ve ever put in my mouth.” He slips down your body, drags of his lips lighting further fire in you until he settles between your thighs, his mouth latches onto your still very sensitive clit and your thighs clamp around his head immediately. Your hand shoots down, fingers in his stupidly attractive hair, and you moan loudly, just as he wants you to. 

He was ravenously hungry but still taking his time with this, he forces himself to slow down just a touch, he knows you haven’t had this in years thanks to that douchebag of an ex-boyfriend. He laps at your leaking slit, from hole all the way up to your throbbing clit, he swirls his tongue around the boarders once, twice, three times before passing over it again, making you gasp out his name. 

Mickey luxuriates in the act and does his best to ensure that you do as well, sucks with purpose and is quickly rocketing you to another orgasm, you can barely string together a sentence to warn him of that, but he knows, fingers twist further in his hair, and you pull with a cry of his name, in another two short minutes you are cumming again, it’s stronger than the first, you are louder than you were last time, but he continues. He doesn’t stop on your come down, he just slows, goes lighter, his licks are running up the length of you, between your lips and on top of your twitching bud, over and over, methodical, and you can’t stop shaking. 

Somehow through the haze of pleasure you manage to speak, calling out to him, “Mi-Mickey, oh my fucking God-”

He lifts his mouth, you expect him to give you a breather or to give some pithy response that will turn you on further and make you leak more, but instead his hands are on your hips, he tilts them up and his tongue dives lower. His tongue circles over your asshole, and you actually sob, shocked and broken from the sudden stab of ecstasy that hits your gut, your hand leaving his hair, instead gripping at the sheets. You can’t stop from squirming, which makes his job harder, you hear something that sounds akin to a mildly annoyed growl. 

One of his hands lifts off your hip, and he lands a firm smack on your ass as he grits out, “Stop squirming so much babe, let me make you feel good.” 

He gets back to it and your head is thrown back against the pillows, you try, you really do, but his tongue flicks just so and your body bucks. He instead flips you over onto your stomach roughly manhandling you, one hand pulling your hips up, and he dives back in tongue first. He eats your ass with passionate fervour, whenever you buck too much he reminds you to behave with another hit to your ass cheek. His hand that wasn’t on your hip slides under, and he circles your clit with fast and clever fingers. 

The sharp slaps of pain and combined with him being tongue deep in your ass and rubbing your clit makes you cum embarrassingly fast yet again and harder still, legs trembling so much you almost fall on your face, with an ample gush onto his chin while sobbing his name into the pillow.  

When you stopped shaking he came up, another smack to your ass, his chest to your back as he leans down and praises right in your ear, “Oh good fucking girl.”

You start to babble out into the damp pillowcase, “Mi-Mickey, ‘lease, fuck me, need you-”

He hums, and you hear his belt open, finally getting his pants open, he inhales sharply in relief, the pressure easing from him opening his pants. The rest of his clothes are discarded, and he pauses. His hand on your sore ass, right on the spot he kept hitting over and over, his thumb traces down, spreading your lips, over your hole, and he sighs, “I have been dying to get inside this cunt.”

He lines up, he pushes his hips forward and sinks deep inside you, in one swift and smooth motion. The moan you share is like music, beautiful, melodic, passionate collaboration. His hand goes into your hair, he fucks you like that, face down ass up, he starts a quick pace initially, rough, needy and you love it. His body is covering yours as he breathes into your ear, “You feel incredible, oh my God-” His head tips back with a loud moan, he drives into you over and over, “-fucking stunning too, you are so gorgeous.” 

It has been entirely too long since you’ve been fucked in any position other than missionary. The sensation, his weight on your back, the sound of skin on skin, his breath in your ear, it’s fucking perfection. You rock back with him, meet him in the middle, you were giving back, showing just how desperately you want him in kind makes Mickey let out this sound, caught between a groan and something more possessive, not explicitly words, but it hits you low in your gut. 

He starts to slow down, takes a little more time, and you are moaning louder and louder, you are so worked up, so sensitive, you feel alive and electric. On one level it feels like you can feel every ridge and vein of him and on another like you can’t determine up from down, completely drunk on feeling. 

You completely lose track of how many times you get off that night, the pace will switch on a whim, from hard pounding and him calling you every name in the book to more easy and sensual, a writhing joint movement instead of an aggressive pounding. 

You ride him, grind one out on top of him while he cradles your breasts, thumbs passing over your nipples as he calls you a beautiful fucked out angel. 

He fucks you spooning, hand around you and between your thighs, strumming your clit with one hand, the other locked on your throat as he is fucking in and out.

The only thing that seems to make it stop is you literally sobbing for it to. Your cheeks are wet, you are babbling his name and the word stop, you have one leg over his shoulder and the other is pinned down near your knee by him. His stamina was impressive, he’d already cum once when you were riding him, had filled you up, but instead of that stopping it, he just flipped you over, still hard, and kept fucking going, his own cum providing even more lube.

That was a while ago, you could tell that he was near again, sweat down the side of his face, movements of his hips sloppy, panting your name over and over. You know you can’t again, you are too fried, too overstimulated and finally, just as the soreness is starting to teeter on the other side of being more unpleasant and painful than pleasurable he holds deep and cums again. 

You feel totally boneless, your arms feel heavy as you wrap them around him loosely, his head dips down and rests on your shoulder, you are just trying to catch your breath.

He gets his back faster than you. 

He is still inside of you when he comes back up, fingers push some of your hair aside as he looks down into your eyes. Your chest is still rising and falling rapidly as he confesses, for what must be the third time tonight, telling you, “I fucking care about you.”

A strong belief that is nothing but the truth hits, “You deserve way better than him, I wish I could have met you sooner so you could have had those years back of someone who actually gives a shit about you instead of that asshole.” 

You want this, want him, damned what that says about you or your morals, you don’t care as you tell him, “Fuck that selfish cunt, forget about him, let’s just make up for lost time.” 

He has every intention of doing just that.

#Mickey Altieri x reader #Ghostface x reader #Slasher x reader #BHF writing #HERE IT IS #ENJOY

[emperor-palpaminty]

Pages

I downloaded TikTok and saw this one and had to write something for Keegan. Hehe. My inbox is open for COD requests!

There is kissing and cussing in this one so if ya don't like it leave byeeeee. GN readerx keegan. Also it makes more sense that someone in the military would have an e-reader instead of a bunch of heavy books so congrats, you are the proud owner of a book tablet now

When war was not filled with blood or adventures, war dragged. Slow. It was as if Ares himself was lazily strolling with a too-heavy war hammer, yawning.

Not that you minded, necessarily. It gave you time to actually delve into your books. Your e-reader had been an absolute life saver- on long days in the field it would help you take breaks and get some literature in, and it was way lighter than ink-and-paper books. Plus, you didn't have to go into the library to get books that you had on hold.

Unfortunately, some books in the library would all line up to where their holds would finish at the same time and wind up on your e-reader. This usually meant marathon reading sessions at odd times, or at least times where you wouldn't have normally read. Between water breaks while working out, you would speed read through the latest fantasy novel. At the mess, you skimmed the pulp romance your mom had recommended to you. When the computer lab was down, you would examine some half-interesting autobiography or scientific breakdown. And all of it was at the palms of your hands in an instant.

You enjoyed reading.

This love did not go unnoticed- the Ghosts would often chuckle or pester you because you hated being interrupted. Sometimes you would get questions of what you were reading, maybe commenting that their spouses or parents or so-and-so from such-and-such company had mentioned something about that book.

Especially, this did not go unnoticed by Keegan. Not only did he notice it, but it annoyed him. Not the fact you read, or were quiet, or drawn into some fantastical world- he enjoyed that. Watching how your eyes were drawn down on your book, how your fingers would find their way to rest on your mouth or fidget on the table, those were all bonuses. He enjoyed the occasional book himself. However, what annoyed him was....

"Kid."

Nothing. Keegan exhaled, crossing his arms. You were hard to pull out of your little world of books and words. Cute? Yes. Frustrating?

"Hey. Kid."

You gasped and shifted forward, staring at the words, muttering something off towards him. Your lips moved, pressing out a brief oh, wow as you turned the page on your e-reader. They pursed, and they looked soft. Distracted. Kissable.

Absolutely frustrating.

Keegan shoved his gaze from your mouth and reached down, taking your cheeks. "Damn it, kid." He turned your head towards him, leaning down, eye level. "You get sucked in real easy. Cause all kinds of problems that way."

You blinked, hazy as you settled back into reality. The black gloves were rough on your cheeks, almost pressing your lips into a pout, and those blue eyes were close. You sucked in a breath. With it came his smell- musk, wood, something masculine. "Sorry."

Keegan didn't move. Topaz irises skimmed your face, dropping to the lips, watching as you licked them, nervously, your own eyes avoiding him. "Sorry?"

"For getting distracted. I don't get too much time to read, and all my books came off hold at the same time..." Your voice trailed off, and your thumb flicked down, turning off the e-reader. "I wanted to read as much as possible before we went out to the field again." You were vaugely aware that his eyes were still plastered on your face and studying you. Those eyes- they stopped you and haunted you and made you freeze, but kick-started your every nerve.

Behind the mask, Keegan sighed. "I get that. Means a lot to you." His grip loosened on your face but the hand did not drop away. He thumbed over your face, the touch hesitating just at the color of your mouth. Were your eyes playing tricks on you, or did his gaze soften? "Promise." His voice was gentler now. "I'll make it up to you."

Your head tilted, watching what you could see of his face. Heat built up under your skin. It wouldn't have surprised you if he could have felt how warm you were under the leather gloves. "Uh-huh." Was all your very intelligent and very smart brain could muster.

Keegan's free hand grabbed the bottom of his mask and he yanked it up. You barely had time to catch the dark stubble and the surprisingly full lips before he leaned down and pressed his mouth to yours.

His hold on your cheeks were not demanding. It was loose enough to where you could have pulled away, left.

But you didn't. How could you? He huffed, the breath warm from his nose as he turned his head into you, and you swore that you heard a soft groan as you leaned up, your grip on your e-reader loosening and finding its way into his shirt, a fist crumpling against it. A gloved hand moved to the back of your neck, supporting you as you leaned your head back. He pulled back just enough to mutter sweet thing against you before going back in for more. Surprisingly, what stubble he had was soft, you realized as you ran your fingers over his jaw. Your fingers clasped the cotton shirt tighter, his body pressing your back against the corner of the table.

You didn't even hear the door down the hall open. Keegan pressed away, yanking the mask back down and stepping back. You blinked, hands frozen in the air where he had been, eyes locked on his own and looking for answers in them.

"Later," Was all he said, and he turned and left as Ghosts began to enter the mess. You turned back to your reading, quickly, but found that the words weren't as distracting as they were before Keegan had kissed you.

#keegan x reader #cod keegan #keegan russ #cod keegan russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ x you #cod reader insert #minty writes #call of duty reader insert #call of duty keegan x reader #call of duty keegan x you #keegan p russ x reader #keegan russ reader insert

[eris-snow]

9. 𝐏𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐧: 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐭

Tags: bakugoux fem!reader, juxtaposition, angst,fluff

Revelations uncovered and questions unanswered. Sometimes, when you move two steps forward, you move 3 steps back.

Country to popular belief, Katsuki has done many stupid things before.

He once created an entire backstory to back up one of his egotistical lies. What’s stupider is that everyone believed him. Another time, he’d played the knife finger game and gotten his first scar on his index finger. And then, there was Deku, which was just a huge bombshell of bad decisions all ending with a ‘you fucked up’ at the end.

But sitting in a hero dropout’s house in a crusty living room was not what he expected character growth would do to him.

Just saying.

“How did you find the log?” Saito asks, shifting the packet of Doritos out of the way to make space on the beanbag. Katsuki and you sit stiffly on the couch, as if held at gunpoint.

The apartment was poorly decorated, and not exactly the cleanest, but Saito’s down-to-earth character and overall demeanour was enough to smooth the edge Katsuki was on.

“I found a yellow thread. Led me to the back of the library.”

You frown at him. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“You didn’t ask.”

Not rising to the bait, you reply. “Found it on my first day. I tried to show it to people, but they’d just forget. I placed it back where I found it and gave up after a month.”

Saito glances between the both of you, before nodding in understanding. He turns to Katsuki, “So you’re the Savior,” and then turns to you. “And you’re the Target.”

“Yeah, thanks Captain Obvious.” Katsuki mumbles. You nudge him, and he gives you a scalding glare, but he bites back the rest of his statement.

“Can you help us? Tell us about you and…your friend?” Your tone is neutral, but there’s hope behind it. You’re so close.

Saito looks directly at you both, and Katsuki can almost see a hint of Aizawa in him. Tired, worn out by life, and beaten down.

For as tall as the man is, he sure likes to make himself look small.

“I can tell you what happened. But speaking from experience, the phenomenon must be broken by you two alone. I can’t help you with that.” Inhaling deeply, Saito closes his eyes. “The cause of your invisibility is not based solely on a Quirk; this is far greater than that. It’s a phenomenon. The science experiment on Quirks those decades ago was like wood to the flame, and when it went wrong, everything did.”

Saito shrugs. “Kenji and I dubbed the phenomenon Reset, ‘cause of how far back it put our friendship. Hurts to think that I didn’t…” He trails off, before starting again. “We spent a year picking for clues, and that log has all our research in it.”

“Were there more pairs?” you ask. “Like us?”

“Allegedly,” Saito replies. “But Reset doesn’t happen just for the sake of it, kid. It chooses; it’s specific. I tried tracking down most of the pairs—wasn’t helpful. Most were dead.”

He let that statement hang there for a while; just to let it soak up the silence it left behind.

“We talked about what would happen after we got out of this mess. Kenji told me he wanted to start an agency together, and I agreed. We hit off the moment we stepped foot into that class.” Saito’s expression is fond. “We were like brothers. Sure, we didn’t go through a war, but we were close. That smart alec was always smarter than me, faster than me—he would have made a fine hero.”

Katsuki and you suck in a breath in unison.

Time to rip off the band-aid. Katsuki closes his eyes.

“So he’s dead.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“He faded away.”

Well, he might as well have compressed the room with a piston, because now the tension is really thick.

“I was on track to debut right after graduation. There was an internship and heroes—they still wanted me. But after that? After watching my friend fade in front of me like that?” The man shakes his head and pulls his hair. His voice fights to keep steady. “If I couldn’t even save my best friend, what kind of hero would I make?”

Katsuki has heard those words before. It’s the same words he repeats to himself every day, 24/7, like a broken recorder.

No wonder this guy dropped out.

Your face is fighting to keep expressionless, so when your eyes start to water, you wipe them away.

Katsuki had to be strong on the battlefield. He has to be strong now, even if it’s on a couch in a pigsty.

Strong not for himself, but for you.

With slowed breaths, Saito looks up at the both of you and swallows. His eyes are rimmed red. “ There was an article I found about the experiment the day Kenji faded away, but it looks like he got to it sooner.” the man’s eyes are hollow.

“It was on the guy’s Quirk used for the experiment: Undetected. The person who wielded the Quirk was able to make people invisible, but at the price of taking away his senses, bit by bit. It starts with your eyesight, and when you’re fully blind, it starts to take away your hearing, and so on. Can you imagine being cut off from the world like that? It’s horrifying.”

What a curse of a Quirk.

Bile rises to his throat, and Katsuki forces himself to stay on task. “So can we fix this? Or are we fucked?”

Saito smiles sadly. It looks as if he went through the entire cycle of grief and he was at the last stage: acceptance. “Even though it might seem random, Reset happens for a reason. You must see the unseen and find what has been lost. Do that, and you will break the phenomenon.”

You look close to tears. “Please don’t play word games with us now—”

“The breaking of the phenomenon is different for every pair. Tailored by the strings of Fate herself, customised and thoughtfully crafted. What I was going to do with Kenji isn’t going to work for the both of you.” With a shake of his head, he continues. “The faster you do it, the better. How long have you known each other?”

You’re wrecking yourself inside out, so Katsuki scoots a little closer and answers for you (even if he was dreading the reply). “3 and a half months.”

Saito’s lengthy frame curls into itself even more as the man lets out a depressing sigh. “The day of the science experiment was November 16th. I met Kenji again on the same day, 15 years back. Guess what day he faded.”

Saito doesn’t wait for an answer that doesn’t come.

Fate has a cruel way of tying her strings.

“It was exactly one year later.”

Katsuki sucks in a breath, and beside him, you completely broke.

The day he pulled that curtain and locked eyes with you…

Katsuki funnels through his thoughts and grasps for the date.

November 16th.

The world must have stopped turning.

With a crooked, shattered look, Saito cracks his last statement. “Your days are numbered. Use them wisely, kid.”

—

Katsuki finds the last unwashed mug in Saito’s cabinet and digs out the coffee powder from behind capaciously placed condiments. If he’s going to get through this rationally, then coffee is a much-needed requirement.

There’s a creak in the floorboards, which makes Katsuki’s eyes snap to the doorway to meet cobalt blue.

Saito lets himself into his own kitchen. “You look like a startled cat.”

There’s no reply.

Flicking the tap on, running water gushes out of the tap as the lean man grabs a sponge. Katsuki pours boiling water into his cup, and watches it simmer.

“Where’s L/n?”

“On the balcony.”

Katsuki whips his head to Saito, teeth bared, eyes flashing.

“I told you to watch her—!”

“And I told you she needs to be alone.”

Annoyance creeps up his spine at that remark.

“You don’t know L/n,” Katsuki says, and there’s venom infused into it.

Saito doesn’t respond immediately, choosing his words wisely. “I’m not here to argue with you.”

Katsuki’s glare is sharp as he tears a hand through his hair. Irritated with himself, he rips his eyes away from the hero dropout.

You’re going to die.

The thought repeats, and his blood is cold.

You’re going to die.

“How do I save her?” Katsuki says, voice low, dumping the coffee powder into his boiling water. “See the unseen? Find what has been lost? There are two parts of this wannabe Shakespeare, and we have nowhere to start.”

Blue eyes flicker to red, and all the sounds left is the sound of the fan in the living room.

“I don’t know,” Saito admits.

Katsuki’s fingers curl into fists as a wave of helplessness, uncertainty, and anger courses through his veins. He’s frustrated and so, so tired of running around in circles.

When one solution presents itself, another problem lands right on his lap with vague words strung out by a toddler who thought he was smart. You’re not a means of passing time anymore.

You’re important to him.

And he doesn't want to see that horrified, let-down expression on your face ever again.

“Kenji was my first friend, ever.” Saito’s voice is thick, like he’s trying to push back a wave of tears. “And when he finally told me about his situation, all my memories came back to me. I felt horrible for forgetting somebody like him,” Saito shrugs. “We may not be related by blood, but we were brothers. And I failed him by being too late.”

Katsuki’s coffee sits untouched, as heavy silence hangs between the both of them.

“We had to go back to the tree we used to sleep under in the nearby forest. I’m sure you know it. The one the government cornered off.”

Katsuki brushes aside the memory of Deku’s outstretched hand and the sound of running water.

Focus. He needs to focus.

”There was something we lost there.” Saito continues. “To break the phenomenon, we had to find Kenji’s watch.”

The words pluck the air as Katsuki blinks.

“To break the phenomenon,” he repeats slowly. “You had to find a watch.”

Saito looks at him dead in the eye. He’s not joking. “Yes.”

See the unseen, find what has been lost.

With a scoff, he utters frustratedly. “What kind of significance can a watch hold—”

He stops short when he sees the sorrow deepen in the man’s eyes.

“You have no idea.”

Whatever importance that watch held, it was evident even after more than a decade’s worth of grieving, it was still tearing him up inside. And by the looks of it, it was a story that Katsuki did not want to be told.

“Oh, and one more thing.” Saito turns off the tap and returns the last plate to the dish rack. “That yellow thread you mentioned? It’s a guide, so follow it.” Katsuki gets a bitter smile, and a pat on the shoulder.

“Mine was blue, but that isn’t the point. It led me too.”

—

Your fingers are numb on the cold railing of the balcony.

The temperature is rising, albeit still being cold, but you don’t exactly care for your body’s shivering or the sting in your chest.

You wish you could numb your brain, too.

Light footsteps shuffle against the concrete, and in the next second, you find Katsuki standing next to you, red eyes focused on an invisible point off in the distance.

He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t either.

He does, however, lean in closer to you, warmth radiating from his body.

Wordlessly, you do the same.

You were going to die in less than a year.

If Katsuki could move boulders, defy the odds and save the world, Katsuki could break a stupid phenomenon.

You know he can, and you know he will because as much as he likes to deny it, he has a good heart.

Suddenly, you really want a hug right now.

A glance at Katsuki is all it takes, and with a slight nod, he lets you in.

It feels almost too sinful to be in the embrace of the one you used to love, that it rekindles your feelings with a spark. You extinguish it and squash your hope.

Priorities.

Survival first, feelings later.

#juxtaposition (Bakugou) #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugō #bakugo x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x reader #angst #bakugou angst #bakugou fluff #fluff

[yutaleks]

Ahhhh I have such a soft spot for mailroom employee yuuta. You kiss him against the copy machine but he is sooo scared of getting caught and getting in trouble but you feel sooo good all pressed up against him and he is so flustered and oh so hard 🫠🫠

I was thinking about him earlier , that post I made about white day...

Coming to find him in the mailroom late in the morning, after he's done all his rounds and dropped off people's parcels. Lucky for him you weren't around when he stumbled his way to your desk, perfectly wrapped gift in hand. He left it on your desk atop a letter that came for you, and the cute little package was the first thing you saw when you sat down at your desk later that morning. It was addressed to you, the sender signing off with just a simple heart. But who else would it be if not him?

When you walk into the small room you see him fiddling with the copy machine—poor guy's always fighting for his life against that thing. He's so busy trying to press the right button that he doesn't notice you sliding in behind him.

You smile up at his flustered face. "Hey Yuuta."

"Hey—"

Before he can even say your name, you cut him off with a kiss. His eyes grow wide at the gesture, despite how yours flutter shut. It is nowhere near the first time you've kissed him in the office, but it's still not good for his heart. You feel his fingers wrap around your wrists, gently pushing you away.

"What wrong?" you ask him when you pull away.

"I-It's just," his face starts to warm up, visibly pink at the ears. "What if we get caught,"

"Do you have to ask this every single time," you giggle, pressing yourself closer to him. "It's eleven, you know everyone's in meetings and stuff right now..."

"But,"

"Don't you wanna kiss me?" you pout. Your body's so close now that Yuuta has to bend his back away from you, practically flopping his upper half over the copy machine. "I'm grateful for the gift you got me, Yuuta."

He smiles instantly. "Did you like it?"

Your fingers fiddle with the end of his navy blue tie. It feels tighter on his throat as nervous sweat drips down his nape. "Of course I did." Yuuta looks instantly relieved. "It was not too sweet, but sweet enough. Can you taste it?'

"Um.. no,"

“One more then,”

You tug him forward by his tie, and when your lips collide in the middle he hums contently against you. He still feels so rigid, probably from being paranoid over getting caught. But you loosen him up with a part of your lips; he responds in kind, letting you slip your tongue in to taste every surface of his mouth. He feels lightheaded when you start to suck on his tongue, like he'll keel over any second now if he wasn't being propped up by the copy machine. When he feels your tongue slide over his, he convinces himself he can taste the frosting, the sweetness of the treat he made you.

And then, you moan, low and hushed but it’s so crystal clear to his ears. He gasps when you pull back a little, just enough to pinch his lower lip between your teeth. He manages to open his eyes just enough to catch the lust in yours. How can you be so nonchalant about doing this in the office? He's amazed every single time.

"We shouldn't..." he mumbles out, stopping to wet his lips.

"mmhm," you hum, playfully pressing your thigh to the crease in his pants between his legs. "You think if we kiss some more you'll come in your pants again?" You ask him, low enough for just him to hear.

"That was one time," he pouts petulantly, wishing he wasn't feeling so exposed. At least last time it was in the office library, between the stacks and away from prying eyes. But here? Anyone could walk in at any time and see you both in such a compromising position…

"It was really cute, Okkotsu."

You press your thigh harder against his crotch, and he swallows a moan. He is quite hard, you surmise—even with the fabric of his pants in the way. He all but yelps when you sneak a hand between you, rubbing him through his slacks.

“Can you do it again for me?” You ask him, toying with his belt loop.

He reluctantly tears his eyes off of you, looking side to side, but you reel him back in with another tug on his tie. He acquiesces to your push against his mouth, parting his lips for you again. He reaches behind him to brace himself, placing his weight on the machine behind him. But just as he does so, the copy machine audibly clicks and emits a loud BEEP, stirring to life. As you both peel apart and look at each other, flustered, the machine begins to spit out page after page.

“Fixed it,” Yuuta chuckles, the copies he had been trying to make finally coming out the side tray of the copier. You can’t help but laugh.

“Glad to be of service.”

There’s a table behind you, piles and piles of boxes, papers, envelopes, and other mail-related items haphazardly stacked like a pile of Jenga blocks. You lean against it slightly, looking at Yuuta standing across from you. The look he’s giving you now, face still blotched red and tie askew, is nothing short of a man whipped… your eyes tilt down to his slacks, a tent in them still visible. Playfully you lift a foot up, to press against it.

Yuuta stops you, wrapping his hands around your ankle. He parts his lips to say something, but before he can, one of your coworkers, a bright-eyed, pink haired junior by the name of Yuuji Itadori, comes barreling into the mail room.

“Okkotsu!”

Instantly you drop your foot and Yuuta turns to the machine, hiding his front from view. Yuuji stops and blinks. “Oh hi,” he says to you, tilting his head. “Picking up mail?”

“Yeah, something like that,” you nod, playing it off easily. Yuuta is much worse for wear, broiled in a staring contest with the touchpad on the copy machine.

“Heard the copy machine was broken,” Yuuji turns to Yuuta. “Came to take a look,”

“Oh! It’s fixed now,” Yuuta says, leaning over the machine in a way that is completely unnatural and absolutely would cause anyone to ask questions. Though luckily it’s Yuuji—

“Oh okay. See you at lunch then,” Yuuji smiles and waves it off, not giving Yuuta’s precarious position a second glance. Yuuji gives you a polite wave and leaves the room, probably dealing with other brands of chaos (as there always is in the mornings) and once you’re both alone again, you’re overcome by a fit of laughter.

“You okay Yuuta?” You ask between giggles, wiping at the corner of your eyes.

“No, God I thought I was going to have a heart attack,”

“Relax…” you coo, showing him a cheeky smile.

“I told you we’d get caught, don’t be so—”

“Library then?”

Yuuta can’t possibly wrap his mind around how easily you play this all off. Still hugging the copy machine, he replies, “I can’t even walk there without… you know…”

“Hmm… executive bathroom then?”

“E-executive bathroom… doesn’t that need a key?” He turns his head to look at you, confused.

And you’re standing there with a smug smile, a key loop dangling from your fingertip.

“Why didn’t you say that earlier!”

“This is more fun.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he says, an eager hand wrapping around your wrist, tugging you towards the door (and presumably down the hall, to where the executive bathroom is), where you can thankfully show him your appreciation for his gift to you… in private ❤️

#they’re idiots your honor… #lawyer AU shenanigans… this AU reads like a sitcom. To Me #ϟ asking aleksandria #thirst tag #lawyer AU

[xxxdegenerate]

idk if your doing request rn but if so Douma 4 and 7 if you can make,thanks!(sorry english isn’t my first language so im kinda bad)

Absolutely!

Steamy ;; Douma x Reader

❥note ;; I lowkey been missing for a hot minute, but I’m back! I’m going to work on some requests :) Sorry if this was weeks late!

❥contents ;; slight NSFW, kissing, biting, grinding, teasing. // not proofread

You were roaming around in Douma’s home. You were invited here by him. Your mother was here since she was younger as well, but she disappeared one day. So from time to time you come here and visit the people you grew up with.

“Oh hello snowflake, what are you doing here so early?” You come into view of the taller broader male and smile. He opens his arms and you wrap your own around his torso.

“Oh I just had nothing to do today.” You lean forward into him as he smiles back. “I’m glad you could make it today.”

He had invited you for dinner. The reason? There wasn’t really one. You were happy nonetheless to see him though, hoping it was the same for the handsome man in front of you.

Holding each other for a little too long you clear your throat and let go of the hug. “Did you have any plans today?”

He taps his chin and hums. “No, not today. Why did you have something in mind?”

“Hmmm not really.”

And so you followed him around all day, he never really liked to go outside during the day, saying he didn’t like the sun and heat or something. You never questioned it though.

The two of you walked around and finally sat in a room. A library. Snacks brought to you by some of the maids.

You munched on some crackers as the two of you were sucked into your own books. This was done often. The two of you would talk and then just have each other as company until something else came up.

Focusing on the book you reached a steamy scene. Kicking feet, twirling hair type of steamy. It made you giddy. The male had the woman pinned on the desk under him.

Your eyes widen as you pressed on. Basically drooling to yourself. (yeah you, watching you)

You squeak at a specific part. Wondering to yourself you look up at Douma. Peering up to Douma, he was still stuck into his own book.

Thinking to yourself and smirking.

You finished the book and close it, placing it to the side. You stretch and look around. Feeling a bit hot from the last book, you decided to find a wholesome book. Seeing as Douma was still reading.

You got up and Douma looked over at you. You smiled. “I finished this.” He nods and goes back to his own. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Uhmm yeah.” Maybe a little too much. You avoid eye contact and place the book back and look at the other books. You grab a random one, walking back to your seat in front of the dirty blonde. You look up at him as you open your book.

You couldn’t help your mind going places. You bite your lip as you watch him lick his finger to turn the page. Bringing the book closer to your face to hide your gaze.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You knew he was handsome, but not this handsome.

Gulping you try to read the book. Keyword try.

Couldn’t help your eyes glancing towards him, watching his lips curl and part slightly as he reads. “You’ve been staring at me for a while dear, is something the matter?” He looks up at you and asks suddenly causing you to jump.

“Y-yes, just feeling a bit hungry.” Making up an excuse. Douma shuts his book abruptly and stands up. “H-huh what’s wrong?”

“You said you were hungry right? Let’s go.” He smirks at you and takes your hand, pulling you up and leaving the room.

Douma brings you to the dining room, where the two of you sat and talked. Even during this you couldn’t help but stare at him extra hard.

Thinking you were being sneaky; or it would go unnoticed is an understatement. Douma knew, he watched how your eyes looked him up and down everywhere but his eyes.

The way you stutter when asked a question. Things you never did before.

You swallow dryly as you felt his rainbowed eyes on you. Deciding to change the subject. “You know, I think I could beat you in a fight.” You laugh.

“Oh? Do you now?” He looked at you amused his chin resting in his hand.

“Yeah I mean, I have so many options on how to win. You got a dick, your eyes.” You start stating some of the ways you could win. “I could take you right now.” You laughed to yourself thinking about that.

“You wanna bet?” He watched amused. Even wanting you to try. “Because I would like to see that.”

“Are you sure? You’ll lose.”

“Go for it butterfly.”

You stood up near his seat and looked down at him. “You not gonna do anything?”

He shakes his head and you decide to try to shove his shoulder. He moves to the side and you fall forward. Leaning on his chest now. “What was that?” He laughs.

You go to get up and he holds you down. “Hey that’s unfair.”

Humming in response he pulls you closer. You sat on his lap and he wraps his arms around your waist. “Douma-“

“Shh, you lost hm? I thought you could beat me.” His eyes meet yours, your faces centimeters apart and breathing uneven. He smiles. So intoxicating. He smells so good to you. You gulp and frown. “You didn’t give me a chance.”

“I thought I did.”

“Ughh.” You groan and try to break out of his arms. “Watch me!”

He laughs at how small and weak you are. He almost wants to just give in and let you win. “You having fun?”

He watched you go limp and sigh loudly. “No.”

You meet his stare once again and he brings a hand up to your cheek. “You’re very pretty.”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. He never complimented you.

“I feel like I don’t say that enough.” He looks over your face and you take this chance to burst out of his lap. You laugh and point at him. “AHA! You should never be off guard!”

He nods his head and stands up. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Why don’t you bend over the table love.”

“Huh?”

You thought you heard him wrong. “I said bend over the table love, or I’ll make you.”

Your legs trembled already. Suddenly the book you read earlier on took over your thoughts. As if he could read your thoughts he smirked. “It’s what you want isn’t it?”

“H-how, what?”

“That book, I read it too.” He walks closer to you and takes a strand of your (H/C) locks in his fingers. “You kept staring at me after you finished it.” You felt embarrassed at this point.

Shameful at the fact he knew. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

He brings a finger up to your lips to shush you. He leans down to meet your eye level. “Are you going to lie to me?” You look between his eyes and bite your lip.

His rainbow eyes glanced at your lips, the hand that once held your hair was now on your cheek once again. His thumb pulls at your bottom lip. “On top of being pretty, your lips are so.. kissable.” He smiles. “So tasty looking.”

You blink in shock before playing along. “Then taste th-“ before you could even finish, his lips smash into yours. Hand on your cheek tilting your head up as he wraps his other to rest on your hip. Your own hands resting on his chest.

He kissed you harshly, his lips clashing with your own. His left hand travels to the back of your neck to pull you closer. His right going to the curve of your back. Pressing you against him firmly.

His teeth bite at your lip, tugging on it lightly before pulling back and looking into your eyes once more.

Oh how your eyes looked glossed over at just a kiss. How he longed to feel your lips and body against his own. “Once again, bend over the table love.”

“But-“ He twists you around and pins you over the table.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” He breathes in your ear and you gasp. His chest was pressed on your back and he held your hands above your head. Exactly how you imagined the scene in the book.

“Isn’t it?” He asked again.

“Y-yes.”

“Goodgirl.”

Oh how you just wanted to prove him wrong. Make him want something too. You push your hips back, hitting his own. Causing him to groan.

“You better be careful love, don’t do something you won’t take responsibility for later.” He growls, his grips on your hands becoming tighter.

You feel your legs start to shake from anticipation. You’ve never felt this way about him before. So why today of all days? Were you just so hot and bothered it made you think differently of him? The way his hands would feel around you, or insi-

His cold fingers snapped you out of it. His hands were drifting up your shirt and following the curve of you spine.

His groin lightly tapped back and forth against your own as his fingers roamed your back. He leans forwards and his breath hits your ear. “Do you think you can still beat me?”

You stutter. “What are you talking about.” Scoffing you push your ass against him once more. “I could definitely take you.”

He chuckles at this. “Take me? In what context.”

Now your ears were heated. “Douma!” He bites your earlobe and laughs. Oh how his laugh sent shivers down your body. He peppers small kisses on the back of your neck.

His hips bumping into yours, almost as if he was needy and wanted to take something to prove it was his.

His hands found way to your lower back and he pushes down to make you arch.

He bites at your neck before you’re suddenly flipped over, facing him on top of you.

“Hello love. You look like you’re enjoying this hm?”

You rolled your eyes.

“You ain’t saying no.” He kisses you quickly, causing you to gasp. Allowing him access to your tongue and mouth.

His own tongue runs over yours. You close your eyes and melt into him. His fingers wrapped around your thighs as he pulls you close and angled perfectly for his own hips to meet yours once more.

Your legs lifted and wrapped around his torso. His tongue and lips still on your own, you couldn’t get enough.

“Douma-“ You started but he kissed you over and over.

“Don’t speak.” His fingers trailed over your thighs. He grinds against you, causing you to feel everything and let out a small whine. You were aching for him.

He squeezes your thighs and pulls away from your lips. Now attacking your neck. Sucking, and biting. Marking you, as if it was something he’s wanted to do since he laid his eyes on you.

“You’re mine, all mine. You understand?”

You nod, breathing heavily from all of the friction. “Good.”

He sat up and look down at you. Oh how he loved the way you laid there. Your legs slightly parted, hands covering your mouth. Your (E/C) orbs glossed over, staring up at him with so much need and want.

“I think that’s enough for now hm? Dinner will be here soon.”

You blinked and sat up as well. He pulls you off the table and fixes your clothes.

“But i do need dessert for later” He winks and gives you a quick peck.

#demon slayer #kny #douma #kny headcanons #doma #x reader #demon slayer headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba #kny smut #demon slayer smut #douma smut

[holylulusworld]

Brother's keeper (3)

Summary: She would do anything to protect her brother.

Pairing: Royal!Tony Stark x Princess!Reader

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, love-hate relationship, feisty/bratty reader, enemies to lovers, arguments, royal au, dystopian au, banter, sexual tension, betrayal (not Tony), implied smut, misogynism (not Tony)

This series takes place in the Two kings (Arc1) & Not a queen (Arc 2) universe, at the same time. I recommend reading these stories first to understand this universe better.

Brother’s keeper masterlist

Brother’s keeper (2)

“Colibri, where are you going?” Tony watches you get up from the floor. He reaches out for you, sighing as you slap his hand away. “I’m not complaining. I love the view.”

Tony shamelessly roams your naked body with his eyes. He licks his lips, remembering how you pushed him to the ground and took what you wanted from him. 

“Never thought I’d feel you again.” He muses. You hate to hear the cockiness in his voice. It’s not the first time you fell in bed with Tony. Maybe that’s the reason you are at each other’s throats for years.

“This never happened,” you point your shoe at Tony. “My father still believes I’m innocent. He cannot know you ruined his sweet daughter.”

“I remember quite vividly it was you sucking my tongue in your mouth back then. Your hand was in my pants and little Tony was so happy to feel you,” he grins now. “Come back here.”

Tony pats the makeshift bed at his secret lab, hoping you’ll join him for more than a little more sleep. “Tony,” you sigh. “I can’t stay. You know that.”

“We are not living in the dark age. People have sex all the time, you know,” he sits up to watch you redress. “Are you mad at me? Darling, you were all over me.”

“That was a mistake,” you huff. “It was the heat of the moment. The armor, and your lab. It’s been a while since a man talked about more than my pretty face to me. I was a little science-drunk.”

“Science-drunk?” Tony laughs. “Baby, it’s called cock-drunk, or enchanted by Tony Stark. This had nothing to do with science.”

“It was all about science,” you weakly reply. Tony is not wrong. Being close to him, and spending time around him changed your mind a little bit about the cocky prince. “I’ll take my leave now.”

“Y/N don’t be like that! I can go down on you again. My jaw feels much better…”

Tony sighs deeply. He had hoped that you opened up to up. Now it looks like you regret falling into his arms. All he can do is watch you hurriedly leave his lab. 

“One step forward, ten steps back.”

Three days later, the royal library, …

“What are you doing here?” You watch your brother walk inside the library with steady steps. He has a grim expression on his face. “Brother, is it about father? Is he sick?”

“You wanted a way out of this deal and arranged marriage. I found someone willing to marry you on Stark’s behalf,” your brother dares to look proud. “What do you say?”

“So, you want to trade me to someone else now?” You close the book you read and place it on the coffee table next to the armchair you occupy. Your brother frowns as you slowly get up from the armchair. “What am I to you? A piece of meat. A whore you can throw at any man for them to use?”

“I’m doing you a favor here,” he argues. “Father will agree if you say yes. Let’s leave this kingdom immediately. Rumlow is waiting for an answer until tomorrow night.”

“Rumlow,” you storm toward your brother to slap his face. “He and his father are the ones killing second sons. They are the ones standing in the way of change and peace. How can you expect me to even consider marrying that piece of shit!”

“It will strengthen our kingdom! Father is weak. I’m strong, and Rumlow too. We can rule the world together!” Your brother dreamily says. He looks like a maniac, not the brother you protected all your life.

“You’re insane,” you whisper. “I’m afraid you lost your mind, brother.”

“You will not disobey me, sister,” he steps toward you in a threatening way. Your brother sneers as you ball your hands into fists. “You’re weak. What’s between your legs makes you weak.”

“No,” you snarl. “It makes me better than you. And, if you dare to threaten me again, I’ll tell Rumlow that you are a second son.”

He flinches at your words. “You wouldn’t…”

“I will,” you jab your index finger into his chest. “I’ll tell you what you will do now. You’re going to return to our kingdom and be the best son to our father. You’ll make sure all of my belongings will arrive at Stark’s castle within the next week.”

“What are you up to?” He questions. “You hate Stark, and everything he stands for.”

“No. I hate Rumlow, you, and the likes of you,” you bite back. “I’ll wed Tony as soon as possible to make sure he will destroy Rumlow. Maybe your friend is cruel and strong. But Tony is smarter. Together, we will change this world for the better.”

“What if I refuse?” Your brother sounds scared for the first time since childhood. “What will you do?”

“I’ll watch them kill you,” you fight the tears, but your voice still cracks. “I cannot let Rumlow rule this world. If I must bring you down with him, so be it…”

“Colibri,” Tony strolls inside your room, smirking as his eyes land on you. You’re currently sitting cross-legged on the ground, a screwdriver in your hand. “I see you got comfortless,” he looks at the toolbox, books, and blueprints on the ground. “Did you steal one of my devices?”

“I try to find out how it worked back then. It was used for communication, that much I already know. They called it a mobile phone,” you look up at Tony. “If only we could fix this.”

“We’d still need a satellite for communication, Y/N,” he sits next to you on the ground. “Father said you have been obsessed with technology since your brother visited you. What happened?”

You drop your eyes to the phone in your hands. You shake your head, refusing to speak the truth about your brother. “Darling?”

“He wanted to marry me off to Rumlow,” you bitterly admit. “Can you believe him? I agree on marrying your cocky ass to protect him, and he wants to trade me off to that monster.”

“I assume you told your brother that you are mine. Right,” he slings his arm around your shoulders. “Right…”

“We need to find a way to repair the armor. Rumlow and his father are dangerous opponents, and they want to take over the world. If we can reactivate a satellite and the armor…”

“Y/N, the EMP destroyed every single piece of technology,” Tony sighs deeply. “If it means anything to you, I’ll protect you from Rumlow and your brother.”

“Stark, don’t underestimate me,” you grunt, and try to shrug his arm off. “I know you and your father are working on fixing what the EMP destroyed. You’re at the lab day and night. And if you are not at the lab, you and your father sneak out in the middle of the night.”

“I guess the cat's out of the bag,” he whispers in your ear. “This means I gotta kill you now.”

“What?”

He grins when you look at him, bewildered. “I was joking, Colibri. You are going to be my wife in two weeks so, I can tell you the family secret.”

“Spill it!”

“My family is working on fixing the damage the EMP has done to the world for almost fifty years. Father and I are close…so goddamn close to finding a way to use a new energy source…”

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x y/n #royal!tony stark x princess!reader #princess reader #royal au

[yanderepuck]

Kinktober Day 13

WELCOME BACK SLUTS. It's that time of the year you've been looking forward to. As always, Kinktober is hosted by your local Napoleon simp @xxsycamore

If you would like to read Kinktober 2021 and 2022 they are here

Remember to reblog and tell me what you thought about it

Day 13 -  Hypnosis/Aphrodisiacs | Begging

Dazai is sitting in an arm chair in the library while you are sitting on the floor with your head in his lap pouting at him.

"Don't look at me like that."

You pout harder... if that is possible.

"Stop that."

"Then let me."

"I'm busy trying to find something," he looks back at the book he has in his hands.

You keep your head on his leg. "Come on... pleeeease. You can read while I do it. You can just completely ignore me. It would be hotter if you did ignore me."

You start to get excited hoping he will say yes. He leans forward to brush his hand through your hair.

"If you really want it. Then beg."

Your arms wrap around his leg tightly. "Please, Dazai-sama. You dressed so nicely today how could I see you and not want you."

The moment you spotted him in clothes other than his kimono you lost it. He's in dress pants, a dress shirt and a vest. You didn't get the chance to ask why, and honestly? You don't really care why.

Your hands start to slide up his thighs, getting closer to where they meet.

"I really ... really ... really want your cock in my mouth," you inch your way closer, looking up at him with your head still in his lap. "Let me make you feel good, Dazai-sama. I want to help you relax."

Dazai has his arm propped up on the arm of the chair, his hand holding his head as he looks down at you. His book closed and in the other hand.

"Pleeeease. I'll be good for the rest of the day, I promise," you look up at him with begging puppy dog eyes.

Dazai glances towards the direction of the library door. It's not like he cares if anyone walked in, but he imagined that you would. But if you're this desperate.

He looks back down at you with a smirk. "You promise?"

"Yes!" Your eyes light up, thinking he's going to agree, and the moment he does you open up his pants.

Dazai gets comfortable again in the chair, shifting his body weight as you pull his cock out. It took only moments for him to get hard. You can tell he was getting excited for this too. There was no way he was actually going to say no.

You lay your arms on either side of his thighs and take his cock in your mouth with a moan. Dazai is opening his book back up and moans with you.

You suck on the tip before moving down his shaft. You begin to bob your head, taking his precum in the back of your throat.

Dazai tried to start reading again, but his head was too distracted and ended up looking down and watching you.

Your fingers loop around the belt loops of his pants to give yourself something to hold onto.

Dazai couldn't help but moan at the feeling. He couldn't take his eyes off you; watching his cock disappear into your mouth, your lips stretched around his shaft.

You got to the base of his cock and stayed there, deep throating him for a couple of seconds, being his personal cockwarmer.

You moaned the more you tasted him. Swirling your tongue around him.

Once you stayed still he was able to go back to reading. You looked up at him to see that his attention wasn't on you and you found it even hotter. You just want to pleasure him. As much as you love his attention, somehow being ignored like this got you turned on.

You rubbed your legs together and continued to suck him. You got to hear a sharp intake of breath from him when you did.

You moan more and take your time. You might want to have his cum all over your tongue, but you're doing this the pleasure him. Pleasing yourself is just a bonus.

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp dazai #kinktober

[hederasgarden]

The Smallest Things - Part 1

Summary: A chance encounter on the first day of your new job leads to something wonderful and unexpected.

Pairing: Harrison Knott x Plus Size!Librarian!F!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Rating: Gen, but future chapters will be explicit and include the reader’s loss of virginity to Harrison, 18+ only. In this chapter there is blood, minor injury to the reader, fluff and references to body insecurity issues.

A/N: Thank you N and @callsign-phoenix for beta’ing, @skvatnavle for the title and @callsignhurricane for the beautiful banner. Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed this story. Your interactions keep me writing and inspired.

It’s your first day at your dream job, the one you’ve been working toward since you were 10 years old. The reason you slugged through minimum wage jobs to earn a master's in library science. Your outfit was meticulously picked out days in advance, a smart dress and blazer with sensible shoes.Your new leather satchel is full of everything you could possibly need, including lunch. You’re ready for this, excited to meet your colleagues and make a good impression.

It’s all going great, right up to the moment where you lose your footing walking up the stairs, and you bite it, pitching forward unexpectedly. Your palms sting when they make contact and drag against the steps. Pain shoots up your shin, your knee throbs and tears sting your eyes… And on top of that, the bag on your shoulder slips from your grasp. When you glance down at your leg there’s so much blood you have to look away. Your only saving grace is that you discarded your coffee cup back in the metro station, otherwise, you’d be in an even sorrier state.

Eyes closed, you suck in a pained breath. You absolutely cannot cry, not today of all days because your mascara isn’t waterproof and you don’t want to show up looking like an injured raccoon on your first day. Breathe, just breathe, you tell yourself until the pressure subsides. Only once you have the flimsiest grasp on your emotions do you open your eyes, hands shaking. They hurt but there isn't any blood. Your leg, however… What were you supposed to do to stem the bleeding? You can't use your dress and the most you had in your bag, wherever it was, was tissues.

“Oh, that looks nasty,” a new voice says. You blink up at the man who spoke, his large frame blocking out the morning sun. “You okay?” He asks.

“I’m fine,” you grit out, feeling even more embarrassed when you realize how handsome the stranger is. He’s got startling blue eyes and golden hair that falls in a soft wave across his brow. When he looks away from your face to focus on your leg you’re suddenly aware of how you’re sprawled out… Your dress is flipped up to expose your thick thighs. Mortified, you quickly tug the hem and pull it down.

The man squats beside you, his face nearly level with yours. His hand hovers over your shin and he smiles at you. “I’m a doctor, can I help?” When you hesitate he tilts his head to the side, his face softening. “I promise that’s not a weird line. I’m still in residency but very much a doctor. I have a first aid kit in my bag.”

“Okay,” you agree, fingernails digging little crescent moons into the palm of your hands.

“I’m Harrison, by the way.”

You introduce yourself when he kneels beside you. He searches through his bag, pulling out a pair of latex gloves and snapping them on, then one hand curls around your ankle, urging you to straighten your leg. The other gently wipes away the blood. Although his touch is light you still wince, but he's quick to apologize and you feel his thumb stroke the little hollow behind your ankle bone.

“Sorry. It’s gonna be worse when I disinfect it,” he warns. He picks up a little bottle and mists it over your scrape which stings more than you expected, a fiery sort of pain radiating through your skin. You flinch and almost kick free of his grasp when he wipes it away, but he manages to hold you still. “Easy,” he says.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, clenching your jaw.

“It’s alright. As long as you don’t bite me this won't be my worst patient interaction,” he tells you, smiling.

A surprised laugh escapes from your chest and you meet his eyes. Your heart speeds up and for a moment the pain in your leg is all but forgotten… He’s just so beautiful. The corner of his mouth lifts and you feel warm all over.

“So,” Harrison says, clearing his throat as he continues to work, "what do you do when you’re not tripping upstairs?”

“I’m a -uh- librarian,” you tell him, gritting your teeth when he starts to bandage your leg. “Today’s actually my first day.”

“Well, first days should always be memorable,” he tells you, smoothing down the edge of the bandage so it lays flat. “At least you’ll get some sympathy points from your coworkers."

“I guess,” you agree quietly, half afraid to bend your leg and stand up.

“Come on, let’s get you vertical,” Harrison says, grasping your arm.

Before you can stop him he gently helps you stand with him. You’re half impressed by how easily he pulls you up while the other part of your mind worries over him now knowing just how heavy you are. When you wobble he grasps your other shoulder, his arm curling across your back. He feels warm and solid against you.

“Take a moment,” he urges.

You close your eyes and nod, breathing deeply. Even though something in your knee aches you’re able to put weight on your leg without an issue. You take a hesitant step away from him, his grip loosening to let you.

“I think I’m okay.” You glance back at him, holding eye contact even though it makes your stomach twist. “Thank you for your help. That was… really kind.”

His smile is immediate and beautiful. “Hippocratic oath,” he reminds you. “I’m sure you’ll be fine on your own but it would ease my mind if I could make sure you got inside okay.”

You hesitate, part of you is enjoying his attention and how kind he is but you want to go lick your wounds in private and not embarrass yourself further. Harrison seems to pick up on your hesitation and draws back, but you don’t want him to leave just yet.

“Okay,” you blurt out. “I need to find my bag,” you continue, dismayed when you spy it on the bottom of the steps, half its contents spilled out on the ground.

Before you can take a step, Harrison stops you with a hand on your arm and another unfairly gorgeous smile. You feel silly and self conscious as you wait on the steps for him to retrieve your bag. He puts everything back in your satchel carefully before hooking the strap over his shoulder and jogging back to join you.

“Alright, come on,” he encourages, returning to your side to help you walk the few steps to the top.

He’s close enough that his shoulder grazes your body occasionally and his shampoo -or maybe it's his laundry detergent - tickles your nose. You’re distracted enough by his closeness that you manage to nearly miss the top step. Harrison’s quick to steady you and keep you from tipping back.

“You okay?” He asks, concerned.

“I’m fine,” you promise, flashing him a tight smile. You’re so embarrassed you don’t quite know what to do with yourself. Harrison keeps his hand on your back until you’re clear of the steps. When he eventually removes his hand you’re disappointed, which is silly. You’re on solid ground so you don’t really need it… but it felt nice. Comforting.

As you walk together in silence you feel awkward, wondering if you should be trying to make conversation with him. You open and close your mouth a few times, willing your brain to come up with something -anything- to say, when Harrison speaks.

“So Miss Librarian, what’s your favorite book?” He asks, sliding his hands in his pockets. “I feel like you can tell a lot about a person by what they pick.”

“You can,” you agree. “It’s silly,” you warn him, “but probably the Velveteen Rabbit. I’ve loved it since I was a kid.”

“Solid choice,” he agrees. “I was a big fan of the Lonesome Dove series. I grew up in Hawaii but I always wanted to be a cowboy.”

“There’s still time,” you tell him, emboldened by his easy grin and the way he looks at you. “A cowboy-doctor hybrid.”

“Mmm,” he agrees, amused. “I have no idea how to ride a horse though.”

“That’s a problem,” you agree.

It’s easy to fall into conversation with him after that and you love the sound of his laughter as you continue discussing the life of a cowboy doctor. You’re having such a good time that before you know it, you’ve arrived at the library.

“Well, this is me,” you tell him, gesturing to the building behind you and immediately feeling dumb. Obviously he could see that.

Harrison rubs the back of his neck and nods. “That it is.”

You both fall quiet and the anxiety and uncertainty from before creeps in.

“Thank you again for everything.” You look at your watch and realize you’re going to be late if you don’t get a move on. “I should go…”

“Have a good first day,” Harrison offers.

He looks like he wants to say something else but then a harried looking student pushes between you, talking rapidly to someone on the phone about a midterm study group. You step back and Harrison offers you a half wave that you return before heading into the building. You feel a little disappointed although you’re not sure why; it wasn’t like he was going to ask you out or anything… As a doctor he was duty-bound to help people in need. Then there was the fact that he was way out of your league, it was best to forget about him and move on.

✥

Despite the rocky start, the rest of your first day goes well. Your coworkers are nice enough and your boss is sympathetic about your injury. With so much to learn and do, you’ve almost succeeded in forgetting about Harrison. The only reminder is the dull throbbing in your leg. It’s getting worse now that it’s the end of the day, exacerbated by the fact you’ve been on your feet for the last hour shelving books and pushing a heavy car around.

“Hey, new girl.”

You look up to find your coworker at the end of the stacks.

“Your boyfriend is here looking for you. You can finish that tomorrow,” she tells you, gesturing to the unshelved books. “We’re closing in five.”

Before you can question what she means, she takes off towards the front desk and you follow behind her slowly, wincing when you accidentally bump into the cart with your injured leg. You’re dismayed to find you’re bleeding through your bandage. With a sigh you continue on, wondering if you can afford an uber home; the idea of shelping through the busy metro station almost makes you want to cry.

You drop off the cart and head towards the circulation desk, drawing up short when you see a familiar face waiting for you. It’s Harrison. He’s no longer wearing his jeans and sweater from this morning, instead he’s got a pair of light blue scrubs on that look stupidly good against his tan skin and honey blond hair. A smile breaks across his face when he sees you.

“Hey,” he greets easily.

“Hey,” you return. You touch your face self consciously and pat your hair, hoping you don't look like a complete disaster after running around all day. "Did you come just to see me?" You ask him.

"No, I had some overdue books too," he replies.

"Ah," you say, looking away embarrassed. Of course he wasn't just here to see you. You were such an idiot.

"That was a joke," he tells you, dropping his head forward to catch your attention. "A bad one," he adds. "I actually came to see if you wanted to get coffee… or dinner?"

"With you?" You ask.

"Yeah, that's normally how a date works." He’s smiling again and you don’t know where to look. Even his long golden eyelashes are beautiful. “But no problem if you’re not feeling it,” he continues, stepping back.

“No,” you reply, loud enough to garner a look from your coworker. Internally you’re dying, embarrassing yourself in front of him yet again. “I meant, yes. I would like to go out with you.”

“How about Friday?” He offers. “You can tell me about your first week.”

“I’d like that.”

Harrison pulls his phone from his pocket, bringing up his contact list. He types in your name and hands it over so you can give him your number. When you give it back to him your phone vibrates in your pocket.

“I guess I’ll see you in a couple of days. Try not to injure yourself again," he councils. "But if you do, you know who to call.”

✥

Taglist: @the-hottest-lieutenants @fantasias-creativebubble @obsessed-with-f1 @mistressslytherin @melancholyy-hill @juniebugg @butaneandthebeast @tinfoilbeth @ice-mans-world @tooflef @torus-flatass @thelifeofthelifeofme @maria-allegra @bandagesandloveletters @yeeyeebaba @mad-girl-without-a-box @simpforbuckyb @bigassnocash @comingupwithacoolnameishard @ceilingfann @thegirlnextdoorssister @mysticaldonkey @in-a-constant-daydream6 @butaneandthebeast @phoenixhalliwell @seize-the-droid @minilpark @writercole

#harrison knott x reader #harrison knott x you #harrison knott imagine #harrison knott

[sweetfirebird]

Sweet Thing

The second of the prompt fills for Marianne, who donated and for a prompt, quoted the book again: “I am imagining if I had been a few years younger, and I’d gone into that library and found you.”

Content tags: some onpage sexual shenanigans, some roleplay but also not really, semi public sex (but also not really). Futurefic, one might say, for A Suitable Consort (For the King and His Husband). Characters belong to me.

Sweet Thing

“Well, well, what’s this?” Arden could hear the huskiness in his own voice but doubted Mattin noticed. Mattin flinched at the question, reflexively reaching out to straighten his clothing or to push Mil away—although he didn’t actually push Mil anywhere. Which might have been because he’d recognized Arden a second later, or possibly because Mil’s mouth was just that good.

Mattin’s pretty, soft, brown eyes were wide and fixed on Arden standing at the end of the two close rows of shelved books, and his cheeks were so flushed it was visible in the darkened library. He was actually quite decent, all things considered, very nearly proper looking, except for Mil on his knees in front of him sucking his cock.

It was because it was Mil on his knees, and Mil who had probably come in to the library in the late hour, looking to collect Mattin as had become his habit, and either found Mattin back here or had agreed to help Mattin with some final task before drawing him away for the night. And then Mattin had tripped or said something Mil would have found adorable and probably kissed him. And from there, with Mattin flustered and aroused, and the library presumably empty, Mil had probably dropped to his knees, disturbing Mattin’s pretty clothing only enough to get at the cock he wanted in his mouth.

It wouldn’t occur to Mil to damage Mattin’s finery the way it sometimes occurred to Arden, the way Arden suspected Mattin would enjoy—provided the clothes weren’t new and that Arden replaced them.

Tearing Mattin’s bright, neat, gorgeously put-together clothing away in the depths of Mattin’s beloved library sounded like something that ought to be done, now that Arden had thought of it.

Arden considered the guards he had wisely ordered to stay outside while he went in to check on his husband and Mattin, and then the white-knuckled grip Mattin had on the shelves behind him as though he was trying to be quiet for the sake of whoever else might still be in the old building. 

He might even be worried about the guards too, but he didn’t say anything as he stared back at Arden. Only blinked those enchanting eyes of his and bit his lip, as if trusting that Arden and Mil would never knowingly embarrass him like that, because indeed they wouldn’t. Not ever.

And on the heels of that thought, Arden moved forward. “I see you found an outguard to tup in your library.”

Mil pulled off Mattin’s cock just to grunt, “Could be two if you stopped running your mouth.”

The breathless sound that escaped Mattin was worth a thousand times whatever Mattin had paid for the glittering stars in his hair. “Oh, but I’m not sure the library is entirely—”

Arden cupped his face in both hands and took his mouth in a ravenous kiss. Mattin opened for him immediately, one hand rising to Arden’s shoulder. He shuddered hard, probably for Mil going back to sucking him off, and drew Arden to him with soft, greedy hands.

Arden lost himself kissing him, which would embarrass a lesser person, someone still worried about his scars or his past or his age, and a younger, gentler, beautiful partner, but Arden couldn’t think of it now with Mattin letting Arden take his mouth. Arden kissed him with his entire day’s pent-up longing and could have kept on like that and swallowed the sounds Mattin would make when Mil finally allowed him to finish, but he made himself slow his kisses to let them both catch their breath. He moved his adoration to Mattin’s jaw and then the side of his neck beneath his ear and the dangling spider ear cuff that might have been what had driven Mil to this.

“What a sweet thing you’ve found for us,” Arden remarked, rough-voiced, against Mattin soft, flower-scented skin. He reached down to get a fistful of Mil’s hair, softer now because of Mattin and scented with honey, and fisted it until Mil grunted again, pleased to be toyed with and happy to be told what to do. Arden urged him down, directing him to keep Mattin’s cock warm and wet but not letting him resume pleasuring him.

Mattin twitched his hips. A broken little whimper left him. Arden left a trail of kisses and struggled to remember the game for a moment when Mattin shivered and clutched at him. “Going to be good to us, sweet thing?” That was the game. Two outguards seducing an assistant in the shelves. A favorite game of every assistant but Mattin, who’d never gotten to play.

Arden raised his head to look Mattin in the eye, and ran the edge of one fingernail over Mattin’s bottom lip so he’d understand.

He was distantly aware that he was not breathing evenly, but didn’t think Mattin noticed. Their Mattin was a pretty mess, hair and stars askew, cheeks red, lips wet and parted. He stared at Arden without any comprehension for a moment, then drew his brows together slightly, as if aware he ought to make an objection of some kind. That would be proper. That would be what he would have done if any outguards had tried this when he’d been an assistant.

But he mostly looked confused, and hopeful, and desperately aroused. Arden felt a Canamorra’s possessive pride to know Mattin was going to let them do what others could not.

Without looking away, Arden reached for Mattin’s clothes, letting go of Mil and giving him permission to get back to it. Mattin startled and sent another quick, worried glance around the empty library before allowing himself to be unbuttoned. Arden paused for that, searching Mattin’s wide, wide eyes before taking two handfuls of Mattin’s shirt and vest and pulling until laces tore and buttons went in all directions.

He got a glare, and then a shudder but no actual protest.

“Sweet thing,” Arden told him again, and took his time staring at more soft, flower-scented skin, and peaked nipples, and the hint of color that showed Mattin’s embarrassment to be so exposed in his library. But he let Arden look, his hands starting to come up but falling down again, settling in Mil’s hair, which he tugged.

The noise he and Mil made together for that and whatever Mil did in response had Arden leaning down to kiss Mattin’s mouth red, then ease back to watch Mattin flutter his eyes open.

He was biting his swollen bottom lip and shivering, letting Arden tease him and Mil hold him still to take his pleasure from Mattin’s cock. He was beautiful. Arden was going to marry him or die trying.

“So very pretty,” was all he allowed himself to say of that now, “I’ll think we’ll have to come back regularly.” He said it as if musing on the idea, as though Mattin would not be returning with them to their bed when this was over. He ran his hands over Mattin’s skin while planning how best to arrange it so he and Mil could play outguards and assistant again, and find Mattin here another night and leave him gaping and shiny with sweat and seed. Ruin yet another bright, neat, fashionable outfit. Put real sparkles in their dear heart’s eyes.

“But perhaps I’ll keep a reminder until then.” Arden’s voice was hoarse as he plucked one of the spangles from Mattin’s hair so he could stow it away in front of Mattin’s little shocked face.

Or not shocked. Hungry.

“My office,” he panted, “I have—”

Arden stopped him with fingertips pressed to his lip, then had to fight not to growl when Mattin took them into his mouth to give them tiny, kittenish licks and sucks.

“Assistants don’t have offices,” he reminded Mattin, pushing his fingers deeper. He was also painfully hard and didn’t think he wanted to wait to track down any oils Mattin might keep in his little office—but how they had not already fucked Mattin in that office? True, they would barely fit in there, but all the better for pressing Mattin tightly between them.

They would do their tupping here for tonight. But their Mattin deserved a reward for suggesting more. Mattin’s serious soul didn’t understand these sort of games, although he wanted to. Yet he was playing along now, despite embarrassment and torn clothing and a lost hair clasp. So Arden pulled his hand away from Mattin’s mouth in order to kiss it again while disturbing his pretty hair.

He would braid it for him later. Another stolen pleasure.

Between kisses, he stayed in close and spoke to Mil. “We’ll take turns with his mouth.”

Mil claimed Arden’s suggestions were orders, teased him for it often, but not now. Now, he only groaned his agreement.

Mattin blinked his eyes open wide again, so Arden added for both of them, “I want to watch him try to take all of you.” Mattin was determined and persistent. One day, he would, and Mil’s beautiful large cock in that soft red mouth was worth whatever extra scheming Arden would have to do to get more of this.

This, being his two beloveds together and happy, and beautifully aroused… and all of that in Mattin’s library. Mattin was never going to be able to visit these shelves without thinking of it. Good. He should experience some of what he made Arden feel, and what had left Mil giddy over him for months before Mattin had ever noticed.

Arden thought of that, of Mattin in this library tomorrow, blushing furiously all day, and smiled before leaning in to kiss Mattin’s neck.

#r. cooper #a suitable consort (for the king and his husband) #a suitable 'verse #charity prompts 2023 #charity prompt

[countrymusiclover]

Ch 24 - Rhaenyra’s Crown

Part 25

Fire Of A Stark

@dragonixfrye

I, Corlys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark, promise to be faithful to King Viserys and his named heir, the Princess Rhaenyra. I pledge fealty to them and shall defend them against all enemies in good faith and without deceit.

I, Lord Hobert Hightower, Beacon of the South, Defender of the Citadel, and Voice of Oldtown, promise to be faithful to King Viserys and his named heir, the Princess Rhaenyra.

I, Boremund Baratheon... promise to be faithful to King Viserys…

I, Rickon Stark, Lord of Winterfell. Warden of the North…

Reading over the documented coronation of the black queen they called her I was sitting on one of the beds inside the abandoned dragon castle. Footsteps came closer to the door before Jaime came inside, closing the door behind him. He walked over to the bed seeing my head buried in a book reminding him for a second like his brother because I didn't look up until he sat down making the bed dip at his weight. "I would have thought you had finished that book, little dragon."

"I found a whole library full of them that someone had transported here before the fall of the house. But this is the end of the one your brother gave me. I still have a bunch of pages of Vayarin to learn. But listen to this, I, Viserys Targaryen, first of his name... King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, do hereby name...Rhaenyra Targaryen Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne."

He leans back on his palms nodding his head at me. "If you think she wants you to become the queen then why aren't you wearing her crown?"

"Because no one can know my true blood except you." Lifting my gaze up from the pages I eyed the object across the room sitting on a dresser with a dusty mirror.

He placed his left hand over my right shifting my gaze to focus on my lord husband as he softly declared. "You don't have to hide anymore. I swore that to you back in King's Landing. The men that are following us to the rock are loyal to my house. They shall serve whatever command we give to them. So you can show your natural hair." He moved his hand up, threading his fingers through my brown hair.

"Jaime, it's sweet that you think that's an option but we - I can't possibly-" He cuts me off resting a hand to my cheek making me look him in the eye before he kisses me quickly.

"Stop worrying, Lynesse. No better yet fuck worry. Fuck anyone who wants to come after you because I will protect you. Targaryens may not rule anymore but you'll be my queen from this day until the end of our days." He rose to his feet striding over and picking up the golden crown coming back over to me. "I may not be a king and I am not very good at being a Lord. But I name you my queen Lynesse Targaryen-Lannister."

Sucking in a breath I could hardly believe it. Here I have been thinking that someday he would come to see that all Targaryen blood acted the same and that he would kill me but he doesn’t seem that way. He may not ever truly love me yet he trusts me enough to let me live by his side. “Jaime I…I’m not queen material.”

“You are to me, Lynesse.” He declared gently sitting the golden crown on top of my head pushing some of my hair down and took a step back. “You can be who you truly are around me.”

Rising to my feet I rushed forward flinging my arms around his neck where he stumbled a little wrapping his arms around my waist holding me close to his chest. Lifting my head up the crown actually doesn't fall off my head like I thought it might. "A white haired Targaryen might give a Lion some trouble. Can you handle that hmm?"

"This Lion will learn to handle dragon fire." He smirked tugging me closer making me giggle before I jumped up trying to wrap my arms around his waist but I felt a sharp pain in my back before I felt like I needed to throw up again. Holding my stomach I rushed towards the pot puking with my hair falling in front of my face.

Jaime came over, moving it out of the way, hearing me struggling to catch my breath after that. When I had thrown up in the weeks prior to this one we were sailing until we reached land so we both assumed it was sea sickness since I had never been outside of Winterfell until the king road North. But the fact that it was happening on land meant something else we just weren't sure yet. "Find me a Maester, Jaime…"

"I don't want to leave you here like this. Can you walk with me?" He was concerned about me while resting his golden hand on my back searching my eyes.

Sucking in a breath I croaked out intertwining my freehand with his right arm. "I'm alright…but something is definitely different."

Together Jaime and I slowly moved through the castle passing some of the guards that had been on the boat with us. We had decided that we would give the men a rest before we made the truck back towards Casterly Rock since there wasn’t any real good food or other supplies kept in this castle. From the looks of it no one had been here since the fall of the Mad King. Seeing as everyone in the world thinks the Targaryens are all gone. Finally we found the room that we had given to a Maester that had traveled with us. “Maester, my wife is still throwing up.” Jaime exclaimed, helping me sit down on the bed in front of the older man.

“Let’s have a look, my lady.” He replied, coming to stand in front of me. He placed his hands on my stomach looking me up and down before asking a question I should have been prepared for. “When was the last time you’ve bled. Lady Lannister?”

Stuttering out a response I couldn’t really remember when. Tyrion’s trial had kept my mind busy more than anything. “I can’t remember to be honest sir.”

“Well if you are having morning sickness like this and haven’t bled in the last few weeks we have been on this trip then I must congratulate you both my lord, my lady. You are pregnant.” He spoke shifting his gaze up from me then to Jaime. “I’ll give you two a few moments alone.”

Once he left my hands dropped to my stomach grinning ear to ear. My hair falling over my shoulders I turned my head in the direction of Jaime. I couldn’t imagine what was running through his head but it would be my first child. One that would be both Lannister and Targaryen blood. “Jaime, we’re going to have a child. Our first child. We’re going to have a child.”

Jaime was frozen in his own thoughts about what the old man had said moments ago. He never thought he would ever become lord of the rock and bear children. And even the ones he had conceived with Cersei were never truly his. “I’m going to be a father, Lynesse…I’m going to be a father.”

“You’re right I am done hiding, let's go show them their true Lady Lannister.” Rising to my feet I grabbed his forearm leading him back to our chambers. Bursting through the doors I softly removed Rhaenyra’s crown, getting my hair completely wet removing the brown dye that named me Stark. Coming back into our bedroom Jaime was seated on the edge of the bed holding the crown in his left hand locking eyes with me.

Running my hands through my hair even though it was still dripping wet you could see the white coming through much stronger than the dark color. Wearing one of my gray tunic shirts and red trousers with boots I walked over attaching my sword to my hip moving to stand in front of Jaime once again when he rose to his feet. He lifts the crown sitting it back on my head slowly dropping his hands at his sides before I blurted out the words I never thought I would. “Jaime, I don’t expect you to say it back but I think I am falling in love with you. Throughout everything we have been through you have never forced me to be something I am not. You have vowed to protect me and..I have no doubt that you will this child, our child. Just know that some part of me is falling in love with you.”

“You’re right I can’t say it yet but I’ll show you close to that, my dragon queen.” He tugged me into his chest, crashing his lips down onto mine deeply. I jumped up wrapping my legs around his waist as he held me up with his real and golden hand, never breaking the kiss. My hands found themselves in his short hair when he spun us around gently letting us fall back onto the bed. My hair sprawled out underneath me while I pushed him off removing the crown and my shirt sitting the object on the table. Jaime removed his shirt before I pulled him in for a long kiss that would lead to many more in the night to come.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#fire of a stark #jaime lannister x oc #jaime lannister x targaryen reader #jaime lannister #jaime lannister x reader fanfiction #jaime lannister x stark reader #jaime lannister x reader #nikolaj coster waldau #freya allan #oc : cadence stark #oc : lynesse targaryen #sansa stark #arya stark #tyrion lannister #daenerys targeryan #dragonstone #casterly rock #rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon #game of thrones fic #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #wattpad fanfiction #ask box is open for feedback #comments really appreciated

[sandpumpkin]

Hello hello! I believe this is my first time sending in a request to you, so an extra special hello to you this fine morning 😘

For your horror opening please, I'd love to see Mihawk + Amulet/Locket, if I can? These are very interesting and I look forward to how they turn out ❤ Thank you!

Hallo! Welcome to my box! I hope this is okay!! Sorry it took a while!

Spooky tidings upon you!

(´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

Sun, Sea, Scares

Mihawk - Amulet - Treat

Mihawk often walked the island of Kuraigana. Even during the day it was gloomy and forever overcast and Mihawk didn’t mind that at all. Mihawk walked up to the coastline and looked out at the sea, nothing out of the ordinary. It was a typical day, the wave lapped against the cliffs lazily. Mihawk stood and listened to the crashing waves and the wind that tugged at the leaves. Content with his admiration of the peace and tranquillity of the island, Mihawk turned on his heels to walk back through the forest when some sparkled in the dim light. It was hanging from one of the tree branches, swaying in the sea breeze.. 

Reaching up he grabbed the swinging item and freed it from the branch. Turning it over in his hand, he discovered it was an amulet. It was quite marred with dirt, he wondered how it had gotten here in the first place. Pocketing the amulet, Mihawk headed back to the castle. 

Mihawk got himself settled in his favourite chair, with a cup of tea and a new book. The clouds parted for a moment and the sun shone through illuminating his library. As the light hit the amulet which was sitting on the end table beside him, it seemed to reflect the sunlight amplifying it, engulfing the room in a painfully bright light. 

Before Mihawk could react to the light, he jolted suddenly, it was as though his chair pulled him backward. All he could hear was the sound of rushing air, he felt like he was falling but he was deeply aware he was still sitting in his chair. The blinding light forced him to close his eyes tightly and try as he might he couldn’t light a single limb. Against the rushing wind, Mihawk only just heard a voice.

A strong one.

Such will.

A suitable vessel. 

The clouds covered the sun once more and whatever magic had bound him to his chair was released. Mihawk jumped to his feet, reaching for his sword instantly. The clouds parted once again and the light illuminated the room. Mihawk threw his arm up to shield his eyes from the light but it did little to avail the searing light. Beneath his feet the stone floor sucked in his legs. Pulling Mihawk to his knees. The floor had a strange consistency like quick sand. Trying to pull his legs out but the moment his hand touched the ground it was absorbed into it. Mihawk frowned but kept his cool, he hadn’t gotten this far in the new world to be thwarted by some magical amulet. The clouds as his saving grace, dispelled the amulet’s power once more. Mihawk found himself on his knees. The floor had solidified..or had it never changed to begin with.

The light began to creep out of the clouds again but Mihawk wasted no time. Jumping to his feet and with one swoop of his sword, the amulet cracked and shattered into dust. 

“I am not so weak that I would fall to your tricks thrice.” Mihawk exclaimed, holding his sword pointing it where the amulet had been.

We are not so easily defeated..

#pumpkin writes #one piece #dracule mihawk #sun sea scares #horror #spooky

[btsqualityy]

Im here for the mess Shay. Can I please request a drabble of Yuna pushing up on Mason. I love the mess. Or Kinsley talking to Mama Min and her Godmother about her cause I feel like that would be comedy.

Anonymous also said: Hi Shay! I need some drama! Can we see a teenage argument between Kins and Mason over Yuna being too chatty with Mason. It causes Kins to have a off day and it’s bothering her more than normal. Mason being so over it and he tells her that “you been my whole world from the moment you agreed to go out with me…Please don’t start doubting me princess….” Please and thank you!

Another anon also said: We all dislike Yuna so let’s see the home wrecker in training try to push up on mason!

"Come on Mase," Yuna cooed as the two of them stood in one of the aisles of the library together. "Just one date?"

"Yuna, I'm literally dating Kinsley," Mason deadpanned.

"So? She doesn't have to know," she whispered, moving forward and placing her hand on Mason's chest. "Besides, if you gave me a chance, you'd see that I'm a lot more fun than she is anyways."

"That's not the point," he huffed. "I love her. And stop touching me."

"We're 17," she laughed. "What do you know about love?" Just as Mason went to reply, he heard a gasp and when he looked to his right, he saw Kinsley standing there in shock.

"Kins," he called and Kinsley just hook her head before turning around and rushing out of the library. After throwing a glare at Yuna, Mason chased after his girlfriend, catching up to her just as she left the library.

"Kins, that wasn't what it looked like," he said as he grabbed her hand.

"Don't fucking touch me," Kinsley snapped and Mason instantly released her. "You know, if you wanted to be with Yuna, you could've just told me instead of making me look stupid."

"That wasn't it at all," he insisted. "I don't care about Yuna."

"And now you're lying to my face," she chuckled. "You know what, fuck you."

"Kins," Mason said as she turned around and walked away from him without another word. "Kins! Kinsley!"

.......................................................

"I don't believe it," you shook your head. "Kim Mason, cheating on you?"

"I saw them with my own two eyes Mama," Kinsley replied.

"What exactly did you see?" Her god mother asked. "Because maybe it really wasn't what you thought."

"I went into the library to get a book and as I was walking to the section, I just so happened to see Mase and Yuna huddled into one of the aisles. They were super close and Yuna had her hand on Mase's chest. The whore."

"You act like she was sucking him off Kins," her god mother laughed.

"If I had waited an extra five minutes, she would've been."

"I think you should hear him out more," you suggested. "Mason has loved you for literally forever and I doubt he'd throw that away for some random girl."

"Regardless, he's still wrong for letting her get that close to him," Kinsley grumbled.

"And I agree with you 100% on that, which is something you'll have to communicate to him," you explained. "But don't let some hoe take your man baby. You're a Min and we don't take disrespect lying down."

"You're right," Kinsley agreed. "But I just....need a few days."

.......................................................

A few days later, Kinsley found Mason sitting in the science lab so she walked inside and sat down next to him causing him to look up in surprise.

"Kins, I-" he tried to say but Kinsley stopped him.

"Let me talk," she said. "I love you and I trust you so I'm going to ask you some questions and I'm going to hope that you give me truthful answers, ok?"

"Ok," he nodded.

"Were you doing anything with Yuna before I walked up?"

"No."

"Do you want to do anything with Yuna?"

"Of course not."

"Do you realize how insecure it makes me feel when you can't tell these girls to fuck off?"

"No," Mason admitted. "But I love you and I promise, I'll never purposely make you feel insecure again."

"Ok," Kinsley nodded. "You're forgiven."

"Thank you," he said and when he leaned in to kiss her, Kinsley mushed his face with her hand. "What's wrong?"

"I need you to be a witness to something first," she said. "Come with me." After quickly gathering his books, Mason followed behind his girlfriend as they walked out of the lab and into the hallway. As if it were fate, they saw Yuna and a few of her friends lingering by some lockers.

"Oh, look who it is!" Yuna grinned when she saw Mason striding towards her. "Hi Mason."

"I'm standing right here too, you know?" Kinsley spoke up and Yuna instantly frowned.

"Unfortunately."

"You know what Yuna, I'm going to say this one time and one time only so I hope you're listening to me," Kinsley smiled. "Stay the fuck away from my man."

"What?"

"You heard me," Kinsley said. "Stay away from him."

"Or what?" Yuna chuckled. "You gonna threaten me again?"

"Oh no. See, right now is the only warning you're going to get from me for the rest of your life," Kinsley replied. "Next time, I'm going to beat your ass and the only person who's going to be able to get me off of you is Mason and not because he cares about you, but because he doesn't want to see me go to jail for assault. So, are we clear?"

"Crystal," Yuna muttered.

"Thought so. Nice talking to you," Kinsley grinned before grabbing Mason's hand and leading him down the hallway away from them.

"God, I love you," Mason whispered, making Kinsley chuckle as she intertwined her fingers with his.

#btsqualityy drabbles #teenage kinsley #teenage mason #drabble day 2