#I am less certain of on that front

[butchvoid]

I don't like thinking about how little I'm going to get to front once we start school in the fall but I can't help it :(

#I am only here sometimes; one of my cohosts (jack @straydogged) is here way more often already #I'm just here in the mornings when my wife starts work later in the day and on his days off :( #jack is here evenings and afternoons when my wife is home and our other cohost is here when he's at work + at night #so I have. a lot less time to front #and I'm dead certain there's going to be ANOTHER cohost popping up/splitting for being at school which is btw. full time for 2 years. #ahhh this makes me want to cry ;-; I miss back when my wife was home all the time and we could be together for hours and hours every day

[knxfesck]

I've been seeing this huge disconnect between how a specific genre of white queer people vs queer people of color are responding to the current political situation, especially on apps like tiktok. You'll see a vaguely androgynous white person making videos about how theyre scared to go out in public now and then right after a black trans woman at a protest.

I'm not saying it's injust or not okay to be concerned about the current political climate and how it regards LGBTQ+ people. But I am saying it's interesting how easily certain people will fearmonger and doomerpost in response to the concept of oppression directly affecting them compared to people who are maybe used to dealing with systematic oppression 24/7. Because a lot of people have to keep going and can't just... not go outside because of the threat of being attacked or discriminated against or targeted by police.

Obviously there's nuance and intersectionality to this but if you're a white queer person and you know you're somewhat priveleged on the graph of racism to misogyny to homophobia to transphobia, think about your other gay and trans peers- especially your black, brown, and indigenous peers- and how they're responding to this before making another post about how you're going to die instantly upon stepping foot in a majority republican state.

Obviously the takeaway here isn't that white people are less justified in worrying, but that as queer people we are stronger together. Solidarity forever etc etc. And building solidarity does not happen when you avoid thinking about how anyone different than you in your community is affected and choose to wallow in your own perspective instead of working together with them.

#is this a 100% reactionary post? yeah #am I posting this here because the people who'd get the most mad about it aren't on here? yeah #does this make it sound a lot less understandable. probably #but I'm getting real tired of white twinks making hate crime jokes as if theyre the first people to get hate crimed #I also feel like there's some kind of connection to be made with all the reagan era stranger danger and true crime bs #that makes a uh. certain group of people feel like they're going to be targeted more than they actually are. #I also feel like this could be applied to the whole gay people vs trans people thing #because it always ends up being trans people who are on the front lines for gay rights yk? #long tags #long post #queer discussion #opinions #lgbtq+

[inkskinned]

yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."

i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.

the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.

mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.

later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.

sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.

but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.

i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.

every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.

wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?

the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:

he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.

every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.

mahler's fifth still makes me sick.

give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.

give me back what you took from me.

#nosebleed club #sorry stephen not ur fault #just like. thinking #writeblr #spilled ink #warm up #every time nat is like - oh let me get that for u #im like .... this is a trick right like ur gonna be mean now bc u did something nice rn #so obviously if ur being nice now either u did something mean and im about to learn about it #or you're going to BE mean #or ur gonna hold this over my head forever and i'll never get a nice thing ever again? #and every time nat is like .... babe i just actually like u #lesbian jesus story is 100% real btw. she also told me not to be an event planner #literally changed the shape of my life

[contact-guy]

lol THIS ENDED UP BEING SO LONG but it's such a cute story opening that I had to draw Watson roasting Holmes's messiness for the newspaper and Holmes skillfully maneuvering his way out of having to do chores. It's all canon, even the indoor sharpshooting, except for the bit about the cold bath.

canon text under the cut:

An anomaly which often struck me in the character of my friend Sherlock Holmes was that, although in his methods of thought he was the neatest and most methodical of mankind, and although also he affected a certain quiet primness of dress, he was none the less in his personal habits one of the most untidy men that ever drove a fellow-lodger to distraction. Not that I am in the least conventional in that respect myself. The rough-and-tumble work in Afghanistan, coming on the top of a natural Bohemianism of disposition, has made me rather more lax than befits a medical man. But with me there is a limit, and when I find a man who keeps his cigars in the coal-scuttle, his tobacco in the toe end of a Persian slipper, and his unanswered correspondence transfixed by a jack-knife into the very centre of his wooden mantelpiece, then I begin to give myself virtuous airs. I have always held, too, that pistol practice should be distinctly an open-air pastime; and when Holmes, in one of his queer humors, would sit in an arm-chair with his hair-trigger and a hundred Boxer cartridges, and proceed to adorn the opposite wall with a patriotic V. R. done in bullet-pocks, I felt strongly that neither the atmosphere nor the appearance of our room was improved by it.

Our chambers were always full of chemicals and of criminal relics which had a way of wandering into unlikely positions, and of turning up in the butter-dish or in even less desirable places. But his papers were my great crux. He had a horror of destroying documents, especially those which were connected with his past cases, and yet it was only once in every year or two that he would muster energy to docket and arrange them; for, as I have mentioned somewhere in these incoherent memoirs, the outbursts of passionate energy when he performed the remarkable feats with which his name is associated were followed by reactions of lethargy during which he would lie about with his violin and his books, hardly moving save from the sofa to the table. Thus month after month his papers accumulated, until every corner of the room was stacked with bundles of manuscript which were on no account to be burned, and which could not be put away save by their owner. One winter’s night, as we sat together by the fire, I ventured to suggest to him that, as he had finished pasting extracts into his common-place book, he might employ the next two hours in making our room a little more habitable. He could not deny the justice of my request, so with a rather rueful face he went off to his bedroom, from which he returned presently pulling a large tin box behind him. This he placed in the middle of the floor and, squatting down upon a stool in front of it, he threw back the lid. I could see that it was already a third full of bundles of paper tied up with red tape into separate packages.

“There are cases enough here, Watson,” said he, looking at me with mischievous eyes. “I think that if you knew all that I had in this box you would ask me to pull some out instead of putting others in.”

“These are the records of your early work, then?” I asked. “I have often wished that I had notes of those cases.”

“Yes, my boy, these were all done prematurely before my biographer had come to glorify me.” He lifted bundle after bundle in a tender, caressing sort of way. “They are not all successes, Watson,” said he. “But there are some pretty little problems among them. Here’s the record of the Tarleton murders, and the case of Vamberry, the wine merchant, and the adventure of the old Russian woman, and the singular affair of the aluminium crutch, as well as a full account of Ricoletti of the club-foot, and his abominable wife. And here—ah, now, this really is something a little recherchè.”

He dived his arm down to the bottom of the chest, and brought up a small wooden box with a sliding lid, such as children’s toys are kept in. From within he produced a crumpled piece of paper, and old-fashioned brass key, a peg of wood with a ball of string attached to it, and three rusty old disks of metal.

“Well, my boy, what do you make of this lot?” he asked, smiling at my expression.

“It is a curious collection.”

“Very curious, and the story that hangs round it will strike you as being more curious still.”

“These relics have a history then?”

“So much so that they are history.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Sherlock Holmes picked them up one by one, and laid them along the edge of the table. Then he reseated himself in his chair and looked them over with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

“These,” said he, “are all that I have left to remind me of the adventure of the Musgrave Ritual.”

I had heard him mention the case more than once, though I had never been able to gather the details. “I should be so glad,” said I, “if you would give me an account of it.”

“And leave the litter as it is?” he cried, mischievously. “Your tidiness won’t bear much strain after all, Watson. But I should be glad that you should add this case to your annals, for there are points in it which make it quite unique in the criminal records of this or, I believe, of any other country. A collection of my trifling achievements would certainly be incomplete which contained no account of this very singular business.

-The Memories of Sherlock Holmes: The Musgrave Ritual

#they are so married #also watson describing himself as bohemian #i know what you are #sherlock holmes #acd holmes #acd canon #john watson #my art #musgrave ritual

[strawberrysturniolo]

jealous // fwb!chris

summary: your friends with benefits, chris, sees you with another guy at a party and takes you somewhere to remind you who you belong to warnings: smutty af so if you don't like that, get lost! semi public sex, fem!receiving

Chris Sturniolo and I made a pact a few months ago. 

He helps me get over my ex, and I keep him busy. 

This pact was all about us getting something — sex. 

When we first met, I was in a long term relationship with a guy who didn’t have his head on straight. Chris was proudly single, but in desperate need of sex. 

After a night of crying and confusion, I tried something I never thought I would bother with. 

I texted Chris and asked him to come over, both of us knowing damn well what the other wanted. 

We had sex all night, sometimes waking the other up with our mouths all over each other, sometimes with his dick lining perfectly with my pussy when we cuddled that it would be a sin for us not to finish the job. The next morning we vowed that we would keep hooking up, only if we promised that it was just sex, and there were absolutely no feelings involved. 

I wasn’t too thrilled to hear about some influencer party that Chris was going to. I didn’t care that he had a life around girls, and I didn’t care if he was into them. What I cared about was him putting his dick somewhere without letting me know, and me suffering the consequences of him transferring something to me. 

I was even less thrilled when my best friend, Nick, invited me as his plus one. Don’t get me wrong, anywhere Nick goes, I’m usually there too, but the whole LA party scene is not my thing at all. I can last about an hour before I'm tapping out and wanting to be home. 

He begged and begged and I caved, leaving me to stand in front of my closet to search for an outfit. 

My phone chimed on my bed.

Chris: Why am I only just now hearing that you’re coming tonight?

Me: 🤷🏻‍♀️ Black lingerie or white?

Chris: Come over. 

Me: Can’t. Uber is getting here soon. 

Chris: Cancel it.

Me: See you at the partyyyy

After Ubering and searching for the way into the building, I pulled out my phone to text Nick in hopes of finding him. Before I realized, a familiar hand slid across my back, finding my waist and turning me around. 

Chris’ smirk was the most prominent feature on his face. “Hey pretty.”

I had to stop my stomach from flipping at the compliment, the nickname he has attached to me lately. It’s hard not to fall for him when he says shit like that. 

I try to act unbothered for the sake of keeping my sanity. “Where’s Nick?”

Chris’ head dips in a certain direction, pointing to Nick through a crowd of people. “I’m here though.”

I nod once. “I see that.”

“You wearin’ this for me?”

His eyes linger down my chest, focusing on the mesh material that leaves little to the imagination. A black mini skirt hugs my hips, inviting Chris’ hands to my waist. I suck in a breath before pushing his hands away. 

“Not here,” I warn him in a whisper. 

“Then let’s find somewhere,” he suggests immediately, his urges showing. 

It takes everything in me to push his hands away and search further for my friend. 

As the minutes pass, I find myself sticking close to Nick, nodding along to any conversation that he is involved in. He makes socializing look so easy, taking control of everyone in the room in the best way. Meanwhile, I look lost next to him. 

In hopes of liquid courage and something to hold onto instead of picking at my fingers, I head back to the bar, ordering a vodka red bull - something to keep me feeling comfortable, but hopefully keeping me awake and not yawning in everyone’s faces. The last thing I want is for Nick to feel bad about inviting me, and for everyone else to think I’m a bitch. 

Seconds later, I’m trapped in a conversation with someone I really couldn’t care less about. Some model talking about his work, clearly trying to impress me. The sad thing is, I know he’s trying hard to make me swoon, but this is what happens at every one of these parties. He’s not flirting with me because of anything I have to offer. He’s simply trying to make himself look good. 

I try to pay attention to his words, but out of the corner of my eye I’m able to spot someone’s glare from a mile away. 

Chris stands fifty feet from me, his jaw clenched and his eyes glaring at the man in front of me. 

Suddenly, I’m interested in this model. 

My hand trails up his arm, earning a satisfied smirk from him before he steps closer, his thighs brushing mine. I don’t even have to be looking at Chris to know his reaction to that action — he’s charging over to us. 

Before I have time to suggest us leaving this spot to get away from Chris, he’s already squeezing between us. 

His nose is inches from mine, and when they brush, I find myself thinking about last night, his nose rubbing my clit while he ate my pussy. 

“Who’s your friend, baby?”

My eyes could burn holes in his. I don’t know if I’m more mad that he’s doing this right now, or embarrassed that I was so zoned out that I don’t even remember this guys name. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t bother telling me. 

When Chris doesn’t get a response from me, he turns over his shoulder. “You can go now.”

With one look, the nameless guy I was talking to vanishes. I smack Chris’ chest. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

“Me?” He responds with a surprised tone. “You’re the one rubbing all up on guys in front of me. You expect me to just sit back and do nothing?”

“Yes!” I shout, walking away. His hand on my wrist pulls me back to him. “I’m not yours to claim, and you coming up and stopping me from talking to any guy you see is fucking pathetic. You and I fuck. That’s it.”

I watch as Chris’ mouth curves to a grin. What now?

“You’re right, we fuck,” he agrees, but his fingertips tracing my thigh in front of everyone send shivers down my body for more than one reason. “And right now I’m thinking about pulling this little skirt around your hips and bending you over a sink.”

Shit. 

I can feel my legs getting tighter, and I struggle to stand up straight. 

He dips his head to my ear, whispering to me. “If I pulled your panties aside, how wet would you be for me?”

I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. 

“Would you be ready for my cock, or do you need me to stretch your tight cunt out with my fingers?”

My breathing starts to falter before I can bother controlling it. 

Chris stands up straight looking at me and noticing every change in expression. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, and starts walking me to the bathroom. “I know baby, let’s take care of you.”

I’m unable to form words. He continues to say quick hello’s to everyone he sees while I stand at his hip like a poor puppy. I give in to him so fast every time. It’s embarrassing, but can you blame me?

We make it to the bathroom, and after he locks the door, he turns around and leans on it, his arms crossed as he stares at me. 

“You know I don’t like it when you talk to other guys in front of me,” he warns. 

“I’m allowed to talk to other guys. We aren’t together.”

“Not when you’re dressed like that.”

“So now you have an issue with how I dress and who I talk to? Anything else I should know of?”

“I have an issue with you dressing in a mesh shirt and a mini skirt when you aren’t mine to claim, yes.”

“Well that’s stupid.”

“Is it?”

This is a losing battle. As much as I try, it’s obvious how bad I want him. 

I need him. 

He notices the switch flip in me. He knows exactly when I give in without me having to say a word. 

His arms uncross and within seconds they’re wrapped around me, lifting me to sit on the bathroom sink, yanking my underwear down to my knees. He ducks his head underneath the fabric, yanking me by my thighs a few inches so he can have easier access to my dripping pussy. 

He groans at the sight of me struggling without him touching me. “Such a pretty pussy.” His fingers grip the sides of my thighs, digging so hard I’m sure it’ll leave marks. He places a wet kiss over my dripping cunt. I shudder at his touch, and quickly grip his curls as he starts licking harshly over my throbbing clit. 

“Fuck, Chris.” The words come out in a pathetic whimper, but they only encourage him to do more. 

His hands spread my legs further before the tip of his tongue fucks me. My moans are uncontainable, and I can feel his smirk growing as I struggle to contain myself. 

I can feel Chris trying not to put his hands everywhere on me. The last time we fucked in a public setting, he emphasized that he did not want to put his hands anywhere near my pussy in case there was anything gross lingering on his hands. The animalistic strokes of his tongue on me are a confirmation of his ideas. The harsh movements of his tongue on my clit have me shuddering, gripping his hair as tight as my fingers will let me. 

“Tastes so good, baby,” he mumbles against my thigh, staring up at me before licking up my inner thigh, back to my clit. His head starts to move more with every swipe of his tongue until he’s making out with my pussy. 

Chris never fails to prove that eating me out is his favorite part of this whole friends with benefits situation. While he loves burying his dick in me, there’s nothing he loves more than tasting me and watching me falter as he pleases me with his mouth. 

My back arches and my thighs close around his face, brushing across the light stubble growing on his cheeks. “Chris, I’m gonna cum.”

He yanks my underwear down until it’s completely off, stuffing the pair of lace panties in his pocket and wrapping my legs around his waist. As he unbuttons his pants and rubs over himself through his boxers, he mutters, “Can you cum around my cock for me, baby? Be a good girl and wait for me to tell you, hmm?”

“Uh huh,” I nod. Any sound leaving my mouth sounds like a cry for help. 

The outline of his throbbing dick is prominent as he strokes himself over his underwear. “Stop wasting your time with the other guys and you can have me whenever.” 

I don’t have a chance to argue back with him. His dick is in his fist, red and throbbing. His tip is leaking like he’s been holding back from fucking me since I walked in this place. He strokes himself a few times, finding pleasure in it by the way his head falls back. Before I get the chance to offer anything to him, he spreads my legs back open with his knee and rubs his tip over my clit. 

A weak moan leaves my lips and I’m unable to stop myself from begging for more. 

“Please, Chris,” I whine, watching as his lips part as he watches himself tease my entrance. 

“You have me baby.”

I almost feel my heart expand, but I’m cut off by the abrupt motion of his dick pushing into me, stretching me out until he’s buried deep and I’m completely wrapped around him.

He stares down at us in awe. “This pussy was made for me.”

I nod, at a loss for words. 

He thrusts harshly. “Whose pussy is this?”

I wince. “Yours.”

“Tell me,” he demands with his teeth gritted. 

“FUCK – Yours, Chris. It’s yours.”

“Good girl,” he says proudly before slamming his hips back into mine. Every thrust is sharper than the last. His pace is steady, but it all changes when I wrap my legs around his waist with no intention of letting go.

He lifts me off the counter, holding underneath my thighs. His head rests on my right shoulder and I can feel him looking at us in the mirror. He pushes my skirt up further, revealing my entire ass. He slaps it harshly, making me groan.

“You love it, don’t act like you don’t,” he teases. 

I nod.

“Tell me,” he says as he slaps my ass again, harder this time. 

“Shit, I love it, Chris,” I admit, the words flying out of my mouth. “I love it so much.”

His hands hold underneath my ass, his hips driving up into me. Every thrust has a slapping sound following, and after a few minutes of a steady pace, I can feel him speeding up. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groans into my neck. “I can’t hold off anymore. You gonna cum with me?”

I nod, whimpering against him.

“Words, princess.”

“Yes, Chris. I’m almost there.”

As he presses closer to me and fucks me in his arms, I can feel myself going limp. My clit is throbbing and has been all night, and being this close to a release is enough to make me feel like I’m falling. 

“Chris.” My hands grip his hair tightly, like I’m going to lose him at any second. 

“I got you, baby,” he assures me. “Cum around me. I’m right here with you.”

I feel myself convulse around his cock, earning a string of pornographic moans from him before his pace slows down, his hips burying themselves against me as he pumps his cum inside my pussy.

“Ohhhh god,” he moans. The sound has become my new favorite thing.

He carefully sets me on the ground, letting my feet find the floor before he lets go and kisses me softly, the first kiss we have shared all night. He adjusts my skirt, smirking at the evidence of him on my legs, dripping out of me. 

“Do not wipe any of that up,” he tells me, a seriousness in his tone that I’m not used to. “I want you to walk around this party with my cum dripping out of you, and if you even try to let anyone else flirt with you, that’ll be your reminder of who you belong to. Got it?”

I nod, trying to find my balance before leaving the bathroom with him. At this point, most of our friends know what we are, and if they didn’t, they were sure as hell gonna find out now. 

I spent the rest of the night with Chris at my side, rubbing my legs subtly or making snide comments about how I was full of him still. I knew what I wanted, but some of him was better than none.

#matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic

[sunboki]

baby fever! w kim seungmin because i am suffering unimaginably from my absolute need to have a baby HELP

he would be so sweet?? like i- 😭😭

at some point he would begin hinting at it, whether that’s claiming certain baby clothes are cute or even straight up bringing it up

if you’re hesitant, be prepared to witness a very pouty, though nonetheless respectful seungmin who, after many attempts, convinces you

granted, this isn’t a one time thing, but your own kid — meaning, before even trying for a baby, matters need to be discussed

although… let’s just say there weren’t any problems in the baby-making department.. courtesy of the baby-fever induced husband of yours 😀

i know for certain he cried during your ultrasound, pretending he was rubbing his eye till you noticed the swelling tears poor bby :((

he’s simply enamored by you?? in every way?? how is this possible

not to mention when you begin showing and he is SMITTEN (not like he wasn’t before)

stares at you with heart eyes i swear

you’re just so beautiful and adorable and round and sweet, rip seungmin’s heart </33

stands behind you all the time with his hands reaching to rest over your bump, rocking back and forth so happily

swaying to a slow song in the kitchen together >>

also, when i say he’s serious about you becoming overstimulated, i’m not kidding it’s his sixth sense

the moment your lip starts to tremble or you start to become overly emotional or overwhelmed he’s all over you, gently holding your face and treating you oh so carefully, paying attention to your every need

especially when you go out, if you begin to feel nervous or exhausted, anticipate a very concerned yet protective husband to hold you close to him, practically shielding you from the rest of the world like your personal cozy space

he ordered that soup you like but you lost interest right after he brought it in? no problem, seungmin is here to cater to any and every craving

feet hurting? back achy? say less, free massages every night no matter how busy his day was

whatever circumstances, you and the baby are his first priorities, always

expect him to sing soooo many lullabies (and they’re so pretty HOW)

sets up the nursery w the help of the other boys, likely checks if everything is baby-safe a billion times

..he might’ve passed out during the delivery… but you didn’t hear it from me

definitely has the baby carrier on his front all the time, feeding your baby little snacks while roaming around the studio

seungmin swears he’s never been more in love in his entire life (that is, apart from when it comes to you), so on the first night you get to bring the baby home, he has them swaddled to his chest, unwilling to let go

if only your little one knew he had your husband wrapped around his finger ☹️

sunboki, may 2022 ©

#stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #straykids x you #straykids x reader #straykids x y/n #stray kids x reader #kim seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin x you #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin fluff #kim seungmin angst #seungmin x y/n #seungmin x you #seungmin x reader #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz x reader #skz angst #skz fluff

[bigfatbimbo]

saw ur post ab the vees and i wasn't sure if u wanted nsfw rambles or sfw rambles so like... i'll send the sfw rambles in a separate ask 😭

anywaysss im thinking ab putting them all in their place.... maybe they're all arguing over you or being pissy to eachother in general so you punish them all- seperately ofc, u cant have them getting off in eachothers pleasure bc ik damn well they'd be into watching you fuck someone else especially another one of the vees

i am always willing to rant about the vees🙏🙏🙏

summary — The Vees being humbled by the reader in the form of loose, unprofessional headcanons and vague thoughts.

warnings — dom reader, sub… everyone else, very messy, not proofread, read at the risk of incoherence

a/n — I HATE THEM SO MUCH!! THEY’RE THE WORST!! Let’s as a society fuck them to tears.

So, unpopular opinion, I’ve see a few ideas of being the vees collective lay or ‘plaything’ fucktoy, and the idea is so much more fun with a dom reader.

And i’m saying that objectively too, like not just as a dom reader blog. Because these are three people who make up the worst aspects of society, and lowkey are basically just manipulation tactics personified. Propaganda the trio!

Looking at these cocky assholes, who are the embodiment of what is considered terrible people, and who all have unmatched mathematically impossibly high egos, would it just be so fun to fuck the pride out of them?

Especially, for example, let’s say you’re around a lot and you’ve become a trusted person a good fuck for the Vees. They all have terrible attention seeking tendencies, so it would be safe to assume they’d be all over you.

Vox would be trying to talk to you about whatever particular subject he thinks is most interesting (about himself) to capture your attention, while Velvette would be close to you as well, flicking her phone your direction to show you something she finds funny or hot, but mainly as a subtle power-play to get your attention off Vox and onto her.

Valentino would be much less subtle, of course, by nature. He’d be all up around you, touching you, running his hands along your shoulder blades as he walks past, and probably the type to ‘drop something’ and bend over to flash you his fishnets and panties.

Needless to say, they’re all pissing each other off immensely. Obviously, being short tempered people, this leads to an argument because Velvette was ‘talking to you first’ but Vox had ‘actually important things to say’ and according to Valentino ‘the two of you were boring them out of their minds’ and he had to ‘spice your day up.’

Unfortunately for the Vees, you don’t do your one ‘job.’ Your attention isn’t given to any one of them. Yet. You just simply sit on the couch, scrolling through your phone and flicking through channels. Maybe you even actually leave the tower and go eat out or something.

Of course, until later when you pick them off one by one. And no matter who you decide to fuck senseless first, they will be so obviously loud just to be petty because, after all, you did choose them first. Like they would be being obnoxiously vocal about how ‘full they are’ or how ‘you’re going so fast!’ or some other fake shit like that. It’s honestly a whole show. Now, I feel like fucking all of them at the same time is kind of inevitable, because they’re all deprived horny freaks on the lowkey. (Except for Val it’s very highkey.) But I think there would be little mannerisms that appear on one on one sessions that they would NEVER show during a foursome. For example, Vox’s certain… titles he uses. mommy kink mommy kink mommy kink. Because he would literally die before calling you mommy or daddy in front of Velvette or Val. It’s okay when it’s just you because it’d be easier to be vulnerable around someone he trusts to set his dominance fully aside for.

And like, yeah, the other Vees know he gets fucked just like the rest of them, but it’s simpler for him to keep his illusion of dominance and respect out side of the bedroom, if the more shamefully submissive aspects of himself stayed hidden.

Also, I think Valentinos would have an easier time actually giving into to subbing during one on one sessions. Like yes, he does sub when it’s with you all the time. That’s the point of the fic.

But he’s less of a power bottom, and his flirtatious, incredibly disgusting remarks subside much faster into whimpers and whining.

Because, although less professional than Vox, he does still have an image. And when it’s just you fucking him, his vile horny comments disappear into whines for your attention in no time. Well actually a lot of time, but the point is that they actually do. And similar to Valentinos, Velvette’s confidence when bottoming alone with you is increasingly less apparent. Yea, she’s still bossy and definitely a power bottom, but there’s more of a recognition that she isn’t in charge. Honestly, she’s such a princess I think she’d actually have a very hard time going into subspace, even when alone. Because degradation just pisses her off. Why aren’t you worshipping her like you should be? But then it’s, what the fuck, why aren’t you worshiping her like you should be?? It makes her brat out even harder, which she does show in front of the other Vees, until she’s actually just needy to be pleased and given pleasure, making her twice as whiny. That aspect she does not show in front of the vees. But let’s talk about group sex with the Vees. Probably only used as a severe punishment, or a surprisingly giving reward. I have a very particular scene for the severe punishment aspect, however. So they’ve all been bad, but let’s say, for the sake of specifics to set the scene, Val has been worse. It is still a punishment for Vox and Velvette, but punishing them all to the same extent when Val has misbehaved clearly more would be wrong, would it not? They’re all greedy, selfish assholes, so you’ve concocted the perfect form of torture for your useless brats; they don’t receive anything until they’re good. Especially Val. Velvette has a strap on, so she can’t even feel anything but minor friction when you slide your worked open ass onto the plastic dick and open your legs, exposing your empty pussy to none other than Vox. He eats you out reluctantly, while rutting into the mattress as fast as he could, all while you cockwarm (and sometimes roll your hips to press the strap against her pussy uncomfortably) Velvette. Oh, and where’s Valentino? Tied up in a chair in front of the bed, getting a perfect shot while being totally naked and hard. You have a gag in his mouth too, because otherwise he’d be complaining the whole time. Because that’s just not fair, is it? He does this all day for a living. Seriously, he watches people fuck all day. It was his turn to feel something! And you would only have punished him more if he’d done something about this at work today. (Yikes..) I mean, this sounds like complete and utter bullshit. A lose-lose situation! But, it actually is completely fair. And as you’re receiving all the pleasure, from Velvettes feelingless, fake dick, Vox’s tongue while he humps the bed pathetically, and Val’s whines in complaint, you know the punishment is working. You’ve bothered them behind belief, you’ve hit a spot you knew would leave a message. Because none of the attention is on our poor little trio at all. These naturally selfish, greedy people, have to finally give. And god, they’re becoming more desperate for your attention and praise by the second.

a/n — We all know I love sub Vox. But this opened by eyes to how much I love sub Velvette and Valentino. REQUEST THEM ALL MORE.

Also, Rose, I CAN ALWAYS COUNT ON YOU FOR A FIRE ASF PROMPT.

if this flops im throwing myself out of a window btw

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #inbox open #hazbin hotel smut #dom reader #vox x reader #valentino x reader #velvette x reader #vox smut #valentino smut #velvette smut #sub vox #sub velvette #sub valentino #vox x you #velvette x you #valentino x you #the vees x reader

[sunderwight]

Bingqiu AU where SY and LBH grow up as childhood friends (idk maybe they're both at QJP but Shen Jiu is less of an asshole, or maybe SY transmigrates into Random Village Bully Child No.3 when Binghe's mom is still alive -- or both) and there's none of the tension of the idea of "one day Luo Binghe is going to rip my limbs off" for Shen Yuan.

So he and LBH can just be bros! Fantastic! Shen Yuan has never had a little brother before but he's had a little sister, he knows how to do this. Just spoil the cute kid rotten!

It's only fair compensation for how many terrible things LBH is gonna have to endure on the road to ruling the world, after all. SY also feels more freedom to change minor aspects of the plot around, too, like maybe he'll stop Liu Qingge from dying, definitely he can help LBH get a better start to his cultivation journey, and maybe the abyss and xin mo thing doesn't really need to happen...?

The list of things SY considers meddling with ends up including wives.

Like really, come on now, Luo Binghe may be a stallion protagonist but there's no need for that many women. Especially when at least half of them are just increasingly cheap copies of the other half, and that's being generous about it. Some of PIDW Binghe's wives were, frankly, horrible people. And if he's being honest about it, it wasn't fair of Binghe himself to take on that many either. Even if anyone would naturally give their left arm to be the protagonist's wife, after a certain point Binghe just can't spend that much time actually with them! And then he can't form the kinds of deep and meaningful bonds which might actually help heal his trauma!

SY's not looking to interfere too much, of course. Ning Yingying is not his favorite wife, but she's fine. She causes trouble but it isn't on purpose, and she's genuinely sweet and willing to befriend Binghe before he's anything special (although even now, it's obvious Binghe is special). Ning Yingying can stay.

And of course, so can Best Wife Liu Mingyan.

But Sha Hualing? Well, she offers some political advantages, and as the demon wives go she's not the worst. She's kind of iconic and was very popular, but Shen Yuan thinks the harem could do without her scheming and malicious attitude towards the other wives. The cost of harmony was too high for the political bonuses offered, especially when Binghe might as well just take her ancestral lands by force and be done with it. He's going to advise against that match.

And the Qin sisters. Sure there's the legendary threesome, but Wanrong's dead weight and it never struck SY quite right how Qin Wanyue pressured Luo Binghe into sex. The threesome wasn't even good anyway.

Better Qin Wanyue than the Little Palace Mistress on that front, though. But aish, that's complicated, the Palace Mistress is even more politically vital to securing HHP than Sha Hualing is for her father's kingdom, and almost as bad for the peace and harmony of the harem. Ultimately SY will leave it up to Binghe, but if Binghe asks, he's going to advise against the Huan Hua wives too.

With thoughts like this in mind, SY starts talking to Binghe about how to establish a household, what to look for in a spouse (or twenty), and other topics of that nature. What sort of household Luo Binghe ought to strive to have, and what sorts of standards he should himself to. Also while of course assuring him that Shen Yuan isn't interested in women. Lest he worry that Shen Yuan might be trying to steal any of the wives from him, at any point. He's not competition!

SY: I am helping to pave the way for Binghe to have better marital relationships! I am the best big brother slash best buddy ever! don't worry, no matter what happens to Binghe, this gege will be your no.1 cheerleader forever!

LBH: is he saying I should get a palace if I want to marry him? well... that sounds reasonable. ok, I will do it! (•̀ ω •́)✧

#svsss #bingqiu #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain

[rafeysbafey]

✮ 9. bed sharing — ethan landry MDNI

summary. sharing a bed with ethan turns into something more

warnings. dick!ethan (he gets better ^o^), enemies to lovers type beat, smut, language, riding

word count. 1.1k

a/n. def got carried away, so i think i rushed at the end oops lol. also this is going to be put on my regular masterlist as well as my kinktober list because it’s so damn long lmao

“what do you mean i have to share a room with ethan?!” you asked, completely flabbergasted at this sudden information.

anika and mindy had only booked three rooms when the group decided to go on a trip together. sam and tara sharing the second room while you and ethan share the other.

chad was sick the day before everyone was supposed to leave so mindy just decided to cram you and ethan together.

“im sorry, babe,” she said, frown on her face as she tried spewing out ideas to make it better.

“he’s going to hate this,” you pointed out, looking past her to see where he was, “he’s going to hate me.”

“well, more than he already does,” you added under your breath.

you and ethan had a…rocky relationship, to put it nicely.

he absolutely hated you. with the mean side comments and the not so subtle shoves he would give you when in passing.

it hurt because you actually liked ethan, when joining the group you actually found him cute.

you would see the way he conversed with others, the nerdy, kind ethan he would be in front of the group.

but with you it was different, for whatever godforsaken reason.

“ethan’s not going to hate you,” anika chimed in, giving you a look filled with pity as you sighed in annoyance.

“ethan’s not going to hate who?” a voice asked from around the corner, the devil himself making his way round before stopping a few feet away from you guys.

his eyes immediately fell on you, a sour look taking over his face as he narrowed his brows at you.

not being able to hold his gaze, you looked at the ground with a huff.

“there was a mix up apparently,” you mumbled, looking at your feet as you forced out the next words.

“we’re sharing a room.”

his mouth went agap and a certain glint flashed in his eyes, but you weren’t aware since you were looking down.

“no way, id rather rip my hair out one by one than share a room with her.”

“first off, fuck you,” you spat, your head shooting up as you glared at him, “second, i told you,” you turned towards the girls.

“guys give it one night! then we’ll figure something out. right now it’s late,” mindy sighed, giving attention to how late it had already gotten.

“sam and tara already went up, let’s go.”

the room was small and…cozy, to put it nicely.

and to make things worse, there was only one bed.

“im taking the bed,” ethan announced, tossing his suitcase on the mattress before kicking off his shoes.

“where am i supposed to sleep?!” you asked, watching as he narrowed his eyes toward you with a chuckle.

“on the floor? outside? i couldn’t care less.”

“dick,” you muttered.

“what did you say, brat?”

“just forget it,” you scoffed, shoving past him and heading into the bathroom.

after brushing your teeth and taking off your makeup, you changed into your pajamas and left the bathroom.

the lights were already off, the soft glow from the moon outside shining through the room.

you could see ethan sprawled out on the bed, resting comfortably on the cushioned mattress.

walking over to him, you shoved his side, almost pushing him off as he sat up abruptly.

“what?” he hissed, shooting you a dirty look as you rolled your eyes.

“at least give me a pillow.”

“so fucking needy,” he mumbled before grabbing an extra one and tossing it towards you.

you didn't know how long you were awake for, tossing and turning, your body aching from the roughness of the floor.

"god, could you stop being so loud?" ethan's sudden voice boomed through the silence.

"says the one who has the bed," you spat back.

before you could process what was happening next, you felt two strong arms snake around your waist and hoisting you up on the bed.

"there," he mumbled, "now stop complaining."

it was a tight fit, the bed was so small it was probably a twin.

you could feel your back pressed against ethan's chest, his hands uncomfortably resting by his sides because if not there, they would have to rest on your hips.

"y'know how angry you make me?" he suddenly whispered, voice so quiet you almost missed it.

"what?" you asked, afraid of what he'd say next.

"how angry you make me," he repeats before adding, "how stuck up you act and think you're better than everyone else."

you furrowed your brows together as you forced yourself to flip over, eyes squinting in the dark to try and read his expression.

"how do i act stuck up? i've done nothing to you," you defend, confusion laced in your voice.

"that's the point. you've never given me a chance."

flabbergasted, you scoff in annoyance, "because you're so mean to me!"

it was silent for a second, the air thick and quiet as ethan tried mustering up words.

"so if i wasn't—wasn't mean, i would have a chance?"

"a chance with me? ethan what are you talking about," you were genuinely confused.

ethan was always mean to you, making remarks about what you wore or how you did your hair, shoving past you when needing to get something, and most importantly sending jabs about how 'ugly' you were.

"i'm in love with you, god damnit."

before you could ask why, why he was in love with you if his actions and words spoke different, you felt his lips clash into yours.

you didn’t know how to react, being completely off guard as he quickly pulled away.

“fuck- im sorry, i-i should have asked i-”

you didn’t let him finish as you leaned back in, kissing him this time gently as he melted into your touch.

you rolled on top of him, straddling his waist as you intertwined your hands together, squeezing ever so slightly.

“you’re so hot,” ethan rasped out, one hand leaving yours to cup your waist as you slowly started to move against him, grinding down on his hardening cock.

“fuck, y/n.”

“want me to ride you?” you asked, innocence laced in your voice as you batted your eyelashes down at him, the moonlight hitting your face perfectly.

ethan could have came in his pants right there, the boy quickly nodding as you lifted yourself up to pull down his sweatpants, his boxers following after.

his cock slapped against his lower abdomen as he let out a sigh of relief, his tip an angry red as you stared in astonishment.

he was big.

“so pretty,” you mumbled, leaning down to kiss his tip as he hissed ever so slightly at the feeling, your pillowy lips sending vibrations through his body.

you quickly took off your pj shorts before doing the same with your underwear, tossing them somewhere random in the room without a care.

leaning down to connect your lips with his, you allowed yourself to sink onto his length, a small cry falling from your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut.

‘fuck this hurts.’ you thought to yourself, the feeling of ethan’s hand cupping the side of your face causing a warm feeling to go down your spine.

“doing so good f’me,” he whispered, his thumb stroking your cheek softly as you leaned into his touch.

after what felt like forever, you started to move, the both of you sighing in relief at the friction you two were making.

“just like that, fuck-“ he groaned, head falling back against the pillow as he held both sides of your hips with his hands, helping you bounce on top of him.

“so good, eth” you cried, “so so good.”

you felt your legs tremble as you tried your best to be consistent, ethan noticing as he took hold of the small of your back and leaned you into him.

you rested against his chest, hand wrapped around his torso as he started fucking up into you, small moans leaving your mouth.

“you’re so pretty, you sound so pretty,” he groaned, his hand still on the small of your back as the other cupped the back of your head, “so so pretty. all for me.”

“all for you,” you rambled, nodding in agreement as you felt the familiar pit in your stomach form.

“bout to cum, please let me cum,” you begged, snuggling your face deeper into his neck as he cooed you softly.

“don’t need to beg, baby.”

with that, you let yourself release on him, your body stiffening before falling back into him, jolts traveling through your thighs.

ethan followed quickly after, groaning lowly in your ear as he held your hips still, allowing him to dump himself in your used hole.

“so perfect, fuck,” he moaned before letting out a sigh, his hand now stroking the back of your head.

using all the strength you had left, you pushed yourself up to face him, a tired look on your face as you gave him a small smile.

“still hate me?” you mumbled, slightly teasing him but not really. you did believe he hated you, maybe not right at this moment, but things could be different in the morning.

“never hated you,” he whispered, frown on his lips as he pushed the lose strands of hair away from your face.

“im a jerk,” he added.

“a cute jerk,” you giggled softly, causing him to smile just a little—knowing you weren’t being as serious as he thought you would.

“but really, it hurts when you treat me the way you do.”

“i know, and im sorry for everything,” he said, pure sadness in his voice as he leaned into you, forehead meeting yours.

“i think i love you.”

“id hope so,” you snorted, pecking his lips softly before adding, “i mean your dick is in me.”

“can’t you be serious?” he joked.

“fine, i love you too.”

kinktober tag list 🏷️ @angelofcigs @courtneykindasleepy @sickyrat @thelomlisrafecameron @cupcakebrisblog @sickofitall31 @liliawritesss @ho3forfakeguys @highjadelolxo @jackchampionsbbg @jdswifee @olivia091108 @tv3verett @ch9mpi0n @20braced22 @unlikelykidwizard @thefriendlygeist @alltoomay @julesmendoza890 @mazzystarwhor3 @simpleyjaz @colsongunkelly @chvpion-jack @heheyhey @spectr3inl0ve @rafescokenostril @eventualoptimism @starkeysheart @nowitsmissing @pedrisgatorade @everythingjjmaybank @yourfavnatsblog

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#ethan landry fluff #ethan landry imagines #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x fem!reader #ethan landry #ethan landry scream #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry oneshot

[usagikookiejams]

A/N: Hey peeps! Sorry for the long wait 👉🏻👈🏻 I was busy for quite some time due to the final examinations. I hope you guys don't mind me not updating for long. Okayy so here we go, enjoy!~

SOMEONE BAD MOUTHING YOU

Ryuguji Ken, Shiba Taiju, Sano Manjiro

⚠️Warning: curse words, aggressive behavior

Ryuguji Ken (Draken)

Today was weird, Draken felt like everyone was avoiding you for some reason. He couldn't quite put a finger on it. The school bell rang indicating recess time, he walked through the corridor to go to your classroom and have recess together. However, once he walked by the toilet, he heard a conversation mentioning about you, hence he halted his movement. "Do you know that Y/N from Class 3-1 was a bully during elementary school?," "Ugh, no wonder she's in relationship with Draken, they must enjoyed bullying people together during their elementary," the conversation continued which most of the time were about you. Draken couldn't hold it any longer, he has knew you since the elementary! He knew how you were a timid kid, and instead, you were the one that were bullied! That was why he came to your rescue and protected you since then. He approached those students in the toilet, "Repeat that again. I want to decipher whatchu you mean by that... ." They all frozed in their spot, not knowing how to reply. "He! He was the one saying that!," one of them pointed out at a certain guy. Huh..? Draken knows him, he was the guy that confessed to you before and he also went to the same elementary school you both went to. Draken felt enraged and grabbed the said guy's collar. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say that!," "As if! You literally throwing dirt on her name and now you are denying it!." Fast forward, Draken arrived at your class but with the man tailed behind him, "Kenny, why is he here?," you asked curiously. "This guy will confess his sin in front of the school gate after school, you will see why," Draken smirked. Glad to say by the time the school ended, the guy were kneeling in front of you while screaming how he made up those rumour as a revenge for your rejection. The next day, many students approached you to apologize for believing those lies.

Shiba Taiju

Taiju were currently relaxing in his office room. He has ordered one of his subordinate to grab him a drink at the coffee shop across the street. He was minding his own business when suddenly he heard those subordinates of his were chit-chatting at the garden. He happened to hear their conversation due to him currently sitting by the open big window in his office. "Y/N has made our boss becoming less powerful! I hate her! I joined Black Dragon as I admired our boss so much due to his power and strength! But it seems like our boss has become mellow once she came into the frame. How I wish I could broke them up so that we gotta have our old boss back!," the guy that was ordered by Taiju has voiced out his complaint to another subordinate. Without a warning, Taiju jumped from the window and luckily he didn't broke any bones considering that it was quite high. After landing, he threw a punch towards the guy's face. The impact was very shocking, as the guy broke some of his tooth and coughing blood in the process. "I asked you to get me a coffee! Not to badmouthed my girlfriend, asshole!," he kicked the guy in the stomach. The poor guy sworn on his life that he was joking. "Joking my ass! You fucking think I'm dumb huh?!," Taiju continued to punish him. "Drag this guy to the torture room, do as I said or you will become the next target!," Taiju ordered the other subordinate. By the next hour, you entered his office and you could see Taiju was smiling by himself. "Err scary! Why are you smiling like that when no one is around?," you asked him. Taiju walked over to you and hugged you, "Nothing babe. I am just glad that a pest was diposed! He was such an eyesore... ."

Sano Manjiro (Mikey)

Mikey was currently waiting for everyone at the Toman's meeting area. While waiting, he saw some of the Toman's members started to gather there. It seems like none of them noticed him as he waited near the big tree. Mikey started to hear mumblings from the group, so he started to eaves-dropped to their conversation. "Where is Y/N?," "I don't know, maybe she didn't feel like tagging along this meeting anymore," "Glad to hear that, she's no use. I don't know why Mikey let her participates in our meeting. It's not like she helps us fight too." Mikey started to see red, what the hell were they saying about you?! He got up from his position and walked over to the group, "I agree with you guys! Ugh... why would I ever let her in the meeting with us, right?." The group fell silent, most of them looked at Mikey horrified. "Hey, why are you guys not talking anymore? It's okay, just talk! Fill me in with the gossip you have," Mikey faux his smile. They remained silent, that is when Mikey felt like he couldn't take it anymore. He kicked one of them swiftly, making the guy thrown away quite far. The other guys were now begging for forgiveness, saying that they didn't mean what they said about you. Fast forward, you arrived at the meeting area with all of the other founder members of Toman. You ran to Mikey as you saw some of the members scattered on the ground, "What happened Mikey?! Did the enemy group attacked you guys?!." Mikey turned to look at you, "Hehe nothing happened babe! These guys wanna have a match with me so we did, but as you can see, I won!." You sighed and scolded him not to hurt his members anymore. Mikey just nodded his head and walk you along to the other founder members. Unfortunately, the next day, those guys that were found scattered on the ground were nowhere to be found, hmm you wonder why...

#tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x y/n #tokrev headcanons #tokrev #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo rev x you #tr taiju #taiju headcanons #taiju shiba #taiju shiba x reader #taiju x reader #taiju x you #taiju x y/n #draken #tokyo revengers ryuguji ken #ken ryuguji #draken x you #draken x y/n #draken x reader #tr mikey #mikey x you #sano manjiro x reader #sano manjiro #manjirou x reader #majiro sano #manjiro x you

[kelstey]

mattheo riddle ☆ focus

mattheo riddle x f!reader

contains smut

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

"mattheo, i've explained this several times, what do you mean you don't understand?" you crossed your arms as you stared at the hot, godsend of a brunette boy in front of you.

"i don't understand," mattheo shrugged and sat back in the library chair.

"i'm going to explain one more time, and if you still don't get it then i'm going to leave," you gave him a stern look.

"yes ma'am," matthe smirked and you ignored him.

you went over the details of the spell again, making sure to emphasise certain words and go slowly so mattheo's hollow brain could take in as much information as possible.

at the beginning of you two studying, he was focused. he knew what he was doing and you were able to make great progress- for two hours only, though.

"mattheo, fuck! just focus," you snapped at him. usually you would've gotten screamed at by the librarian but it was past closing times, she allowed you two to stay beyond curfew on the deal that whatever happened, like being caught in the library by another teacher, would not be her problem.

"how am i meant to focus when you look so good? i thought i could help myself but fuck," he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"and that's my problem how?" you shot him a death glare.

"is that an attitude i sense there?" he leaned forward.

"maybe, what are you gonna do about it?" you smirked back, knowing you were all bark and no bite.

"how about i fuck that attitude out of you?" mattheo's eyes remained on yours.

"yeah bet you'd love that, wouldn't you? but we have to get going with this studying," you huffed, slightly flustered but you weren't going to let him know he had that affect on you.

"i think i know a way that i could focus better," he smirked before getting up out of his seat and walking towards you.

"and that is?" you raised your eyebrow.

"let me eat you out while you read out those notes," he got on his knees in front of you.

you could've melted at the sight of mattheo fucking riddle being kneeled down in front of you. you felt the thin material of your thong quickly get soaked by the sight of him, his eyes quietly pleading at you.

"please?" he begged, his large veiny hands moved onto your knees, ever so slowly massaging up your thighs. you were beyond speechless- unaware of what to do or say, but you were absolutely loving it.

"if you don't want me to, you should saying something," mattheo said before kissing your thighs, each kiss making its way up to your skirt that was rolled up high. "such a slut aren't you? pulling your skirt so high, letting the whole school see what's all mine."

"mattheo, please," you breathed out as you could hear your own pulse from how desperate he got you in just a few seconds.

"yes ma'am," he said before pulling your legs apart, revealing your soaked underwear. "so wet for me already."

his gorgeous eyes flicked back up to yours, you watched him as he took a thumb up to your clothed clit before circling it ever so lightly. you threw your head back in pleasure despite him barely making any contact.

"tell me what you want," mattheo's thumb circled harder. his lips nipping down at the flesh on your thighs, undoubtedly leaving hickies but you couldn't care less, it felt amazing.

"i want you, i want your tongue eating me out," you moaned.

"that's what i like to hear," he smirked to himself before painfully and slowly taking your underwear off.

you opened up your notebook, trying to concentrate as mattheos mouth attached itself to your clit and quickly working on it. "fuck," you moaned.

mattheo's hands were cold, they found their way onto the sides of your thighs, holding on tightly as he did his magic.

"appare vestigium is the-" you couldn't even finish your sentence as you felt mattheo's tongue lap over your clit repeatedly. great heavens above.

you were puzzled when he quickly pulled away,

"keep reading."

you rolled your eyes and looked back over to your notes, "appare vestigium is a spell which," you held back a moan as mattheo stuck two fingers inside of you, "reveals the traces of magic-including spells- shit mattheo."

"keep going," he said while still going at it, the vibrations of his words made your back arch.

"it magically transports the caster to another location instantaneously," you bit down on your tongue, your hips grinding up onto his face and mattheo seemed to be enjoying every single second. "the destination is one that the primary user has been to or seen in some fashion previously. it can be used to apparate multiple people at once if holding each other. no incantation required."

your hands made its way into mattheos hair, pulling it slightly as he made your legs tremble in pleasure. "keep going," you moaned out.

"wasnt planning on stopping," he said. he pulled your legs over his shoulders, maintaining his grip on your thighs. you continued to ride his face, feeling your stomach tighten as mattheo made no efforts to slow down.

"mattheo- holy fuck," you barely breathed out,

"i'm gonna cum."

"cum for me, be a good girl and cum all over my face," his words only made you grow weaker as you rode out your high.

you sat back on the library seat, saying absolutely nothing yet so much was said. mattheo admired the state you were in, hair was a mess, your clothes all wrinkled, your legs shaking.

"i think i got the spell that last time," he laughed.

you shot him a glare, "you better have. i dont think i can do anymore." you went to stand up but quickly fell onto the table, your arms barely being able to hold you in place as your legs continued to ache.

"wonder who got you into that state," mattheo laughed before walking back to you. "allow me." he carried you bridal style out of the library and made his way to your dorm.

"think you can get into bed by yourself?" he asked.

"if you're asking to sleep over then just do it," you rolled your eyes playfully.

"you shouldn't be giving me that attitude, look where it got you last time," he said, referring to your current state of being unable to walk.

"shut up, riddle."

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheoriddlesmut #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo smut #slytherin boys #slytherin #fanfic #fantasy

[mediumgayitalian]

The best part of being his own camp counsellor is that he can wake up whenever the fuck he likes.

Nico’s a fan.

Because, however, his dumb ass made friends with the camp’s head medic, he doesn’t get to sleep in as often as he would like. He is instead often woken up before the clock strikes nine, which is a tragedy and one of the forty thousand reasons he is going to be present on Will’s judgement day. (The scales tip any which way on a regular basis, but as of last week, Will is going to hell. Unfortunate. Nico’ll still visit him, though. Bring him one half of a twizzler or something.) So when he wakes up, one lovely morning, mouth tasting like something rotted in it and sun well past halfway across the sky, he is capital-C Concerned.

What a horrible tragedy that is. Finally, for the first time in months, he was able to sleep in. And his first thought is not gratitude. Solace may indeed have to die — Nico was not this way before he started planting his annoying ass front and centre in Nico’s life. He’s quite fairly certain he used to be frightening and badass. Now Will orders him to drink milk for the sake of his calcium and he does. Gods.

“Morning,” he hedges, approaching the archery range, feeling marginally more alive than twenty minutes prior.

Kayla raises an amused eyebrow. “Dude, it’s, like, two.”

“Well fuck you, then.”

She smirks. “Aw, did baby not get his Sunshine fix of the day? Is that why he’s so grumpy?”

It really sucks that Will is so fond of his siblings. Nico wonders if Will would still like him if he knew how many times he daydreams of transporting Kayla onto the moon per day.

“As soon as I figure out which god would appreciate you as a sacrifice, you’re gone.”

“Yeah, right,” she snorts, turning away and lining up an arrow. She lets it fly, watching as it shaves a splinter off a hunk of wood fifty feet away. “You couldn’t get close enough to kick my ass before I’d skewer you, di Angelo.”

Remembering the warning arrow Kayla had shot through his shoulder last week, he wisely chooses not to press the matter any further. The power visibly goes to her head. Fuck.

“Just — tell me where Will is.”

“Why?” She strings another arrow. The grin on her face is a level of shit-eating that Nico has only before seen on a Stoll. She should spend less time around Julia, or else the camp is in for some serious trouble. “What are your intentions with my dear brother?”

Nico, on principle, refuses to answer that question. Kayla shrugs, finishing her shot and then turning around to stick her tongue out at him.

“No answer, no location! Find him yourself, loverboy. And remember that I am always watching.”

Stomping away, and ignoring the smile twitching at his lips — she is so annoying, truly, gods above he owes Bianca a thousand apologies for ever opening his mouth — he heads towards the infirmary. There are only six locations Will is at any given time, after all, except when he disappears for several hours randomly but Nico doesn’t know how to bring that up yet. As he approaches the infirmary, though, he hears it absolutely blasting with music, like genuinely shaking the ground a little bit, and knows exactly where to find him.

As he approaches the door, wincing at the door, he finds it closed. Odd — Will likes a breeze when he works. Even odder is the hastily-written sign pasted onto it:

ANNUAL CLEAN OUT DAY. IF YOU NEED ME, TOUGH SHIT. IF YOU NEED A BANDAID, TOUGH SHIT. IF YOU’RE BLEEDING OUT, CALL AN AMBULANCE AND PRAY. I AM BUSY.

(‘Busy’ is underlined three times.)

In smaller print, under the all-caps monstrosity, is:

Unless you’re Nico, in which case disregard the previous sentiment. No, Cecil, this does NOT mean you.

The note is written again in Ancient Greek, Latin, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Mandarin, Italian, Polish, Korean, Morse Code, and another ten languages Nico can’t even name. Actually, wait — the top left is Klingon. And middle right note does not appear to be language, showing instead a poorly drawn stick figure in armour being shoved into a cannon and shot into the sun by another poorly drawn stick figure in a lab coat. Nico loves a man who’s multi-talented, indeed.

Hesitantly, Nico cracks open the door. He is immediately assaulted by a solid wall of sound, and then nearly bowled over by the enigma himself, William ‘I Can Restructure A Human Brain But Cannot Tie My Shoelaces’ Solace. He catches himself at the last second, and then barely manages to catch Will, grabbing him around the waist just before his head hits the floor.

“Nico!” he shouts over the music, smiling brightly. “Hi! You’re here!”

“I’m here.” He can physically feel his voice cracking, but luckily the music drowns it out. Hopefully. “Uh, what’re you doing?”

“Cleaning!” Will straightens up, although he stays within the circle of Nico’s arms. Nico tries real hard to keep his gaze firmly planted on his face and not on the hands he still has in his hips. “I do it once a year, kick everybody out and deep clean the place. Helps keep it fresh and minimize the bloodstains on the floor.”

“Ah. And the music…”

“It’s fun!” Will shouts. He gasps when the CD player skips and a new song comes on, heavy base and funky synths blasting so hard the window panes shake. “Oh my gods! I love this one!” He turns his bright grin at Nico full force, absolutely no holdbacks on the dimples or freckles, gods help him, and bows cheekily. “Can I have this dance, good sir?”

“It’s Britney Spears’ Outrageous,” Nico protests weakly.

“Yeah!”

…Very, very weakly.

“…Okay.”

Will whoops, grabbing his hands and spinning him around. Nico yelps, nearly tripping over a cot, but when he looks back up Will has his eyes closed and is shimmying not unlike a worm on a fish hook, and it’s so ridiculous that he can’t help but laugh. Will pries one eye open, grinning widely, and shimmies harder.

“You’re such a dweeb!”

“Join me in the dweebiness! Free yourself!”

Nico rolls his eyes fondly, squeezing Will’s hand, and lets himself get ridiculous. He’ll deny it if anyone asks, but it’s fun.

…And not just because Will is next to him, smile brighter than any star, dancing like a massive dork, hand clasped in his.

#barely edited this one i’m SLEEPY #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #kayla knowles #nico di angelo & kayla knowles #will solace #nico di angelo & will solace #nico di angelo/will solace #solangelo #pre solangelo #pining nico di angelo #mutual pining #fluff #100 ways #100 ways to say i love you #my writing #fic #longpost

[retrievablememories]

cherry bomb | part 2 | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: after your town goes into lockdown because of the cherry bomb massacre, you find out that the murderer's interest is on you. eventually, you’re left with no choice but to face him.

genre: horror/slasher, angst, smut, college!au

word count: 13.7k

warnings: major character deaths, gaslighting, hallucinations, anxiety/paranoia, grief, trauma, violence (including knife and gun use), torture, blood, gore, descriptions of dead bodies, a funeral scene, fuckboy!JK, oral (fem receiving), fingering, finger-sucking, handjob, cumplay(?), hair-pulling

a/n: this part is quite rougher than the first, so heed the warnings. same notes as the last part—not meant to be entirely realistic since this *is* a slasher. block/filter as needed. i didn’t mention this in part 1 but this fic is not set in present day; more like somewhere in the 2000s? i don’t think this fic would work as well with all this advanced technology/the prevalence of social media now

...also, i had this story all written out and then decided to completely change the plot at the last minute because i figured out a way to write the original plot i had wanted to do from the beginning. 💀 yeah…just leave your thoughts below

taglist is at the very bottom of the fic—for some reason i wasn't able to tag everyone who requested, so please reblog this fic so folks can see it

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 1

you’re standing in front of some stranger’s house in the early hours of the morning, your body heavy from exhaustion as your adrenaline has run out. this is not at all how you expected your night to end when you left your dorm hours ago. it must’ve taken at least 40 minutes to get to this house, and you’re less familiar with this part of town, which you try not to feel uneasy about. you suppose the farther away from the scene of the carnage, the better.

jungkook bangs on the door, calling out the name yoongi-hyung until the porch light comes on. though it’s illogical, you’re tense with apprehension that the murderer could somehow appear at any moment, and you hope whoever yoongi is lets the both of you in soon. so much for no longer looking over your shoulder.

a man with hair just as long as jungkook’s answers the door, looking disheveled and annoyed. “why the fuck are you banging down my door at nearly 2 am—"

yoongi stops speaking as he eyes the both of you up and down, his gaze going from the bite mark bruises you left on jungkook’s neck to the dried blood on your face to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. his expression is between surprise and curiosity. “what the fuck is going on here?”

“can we talk inside?” jungkook says, though he doesn’t wait for an invitation before pushing his way past the other man and stepping inside.

“uh…hi. sorry.” you step inside too, glad to not be out in the open anymore.

yoongi takes another look outside the door at the state of jungkook’s car before closing and locking it. “mind explaining this shit? i thought you were going to that party you told me about?

“i did,” jungkook says, his voice full of frustration. “the fucking killer showed up at the party.”

“the fuck are you talking about?”

“you know what i’m talking about. that werewolf-masked freak? he came and just started stabbing people to death. we watched him shoot a fraternity member in front of us, dude. that’s why my car looks the way it does.”

“the campus is probably dangerous,” you add. “that’s why we came here. we just need somewhere safe to stay for the night.”

yoongi goes to the window and draws back the curtain. he peeks out the small holes in the side of the blinds rather than pushing the blinds down to look outside. “and you’re certain he didn’t follow you here? i thought he only killed virgins anyway. why the hell was he shooting at you?” then yoongi turns away from the window and looks at you. “oh. is this why?”

feeling put on the spot, you blurt out: “look, i don’t think that matters much anymore. he seemed to be killing anybody who was in his way.”

“and he was on foot the whole time, so there’s no way he could’ve followed us,” jungkook adds.

yoongi shakes his head and walks away from the window. “whole town is fucked, then. come on.”

you’re relieved to be able to scrub the blood off your face and change into fresh clothes. you initially thought it was peculiar that yoongi had spare clothes ready for you to wear until he alluded to keeping them on hand for any of jungkook’s hookups that he brings over.

“sure—of course.” you’d just nodded and tried not to look embarrassed as you accepted the clothes.

even after showering you don’t feel entirely clean, though. you think it might be impossible to return to feeling anything like your former self after tonight.

the couch has a pull-out bed, so it’s not as uncomfortable as it would be just sleeping on a regular sofa, which you are grateful for. you’re still arranging the pillow and blankets when jungkook walks into the room holding his own bedding.

“i think i should sleep here,” he says.

“there’s no room on the couch for the both of us,” you protest, thinking he means to take your spot.

“i mean on the floor. earlier, you didn’t seem like you wanted to be left alone in here.”

“oh.” you try to take the edge out of your voice; it’s hard to be polite when you’re still so overwhelmed with stress. “that’ll be uncomfortable though.”

jungkook just waves his hand and dumps his pillow and blanket on the floor before going to push the coffee table out of the way. “doesn’t really matter, i think we’ve been through worse tonight than sleeping on a hard floor…”

“thanks,” you say quietly, watching him spread his blanket out on the ground. you want to say something else, but you can’t think of anything.

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

after a few more moments of staring at jungkook as he arranges his sleeping area, you finally ask, “i was wondering how’d you meet yoongi? he doesn’t seem like he’s a college student. i’ve never seen him around our campus, at least.”

“he isn’t. he works as a music producer, so he’s out of town a lot, but this is his homebase. as for how we met—it’s a long story. he and my brother actually used to know each other, so…” you think he’ll explain further, but he just shakes his head. “but he’s a good friend.”

“i see. a music producer…nice. how cool for a little town like this.”

after everything is to his liking, jungkook gets under the blanket. “tonight was a lot, so try to get some sleep.”

you nod and turn the lamp off, though you’re doubting you’ll get any peace tonight. “yeah…you too.”

--

SATURDAY MORNING, NOV 4

you wake up around 11 a.m. on a strange couch wearing strange clothes in a strange room. with your brain’s half-conscious state, your terror reawakens; you think maybe you’ve been kidnapped by the murderer and the car ride with jungkook last night was a dream—until yoongi pops into your mind.

you try to regulate your breathing and settle back beneath the blanket, though you know you won’t be going back to sleep.

you haven’t gotten more than an hour of sleep in total, broken up into 20-minute intervals across the hours. every time you’ve tried to close your eyes and drift off, you see the frat member’s skull bursting apart again, shocking your entire nervous system. you can think of nothing but the piles of bodies and the deaths you witnessed. perhaps it’s better that you don’t sleep; you figure your dreams wouldn’t be any more tolerable than your thoughts.

as you shift around on the couch, your whole body screams with soreness. your arms, your ribs, your sides, your legs, and—to a lesser extent—even between your thighs where jungkook was last night.

you glance over and see that he’s still sprawled on the floor, blanket halfway kicked off. he’s actually awake, his face turned away from you as he blinks slowly and stares at nothing, but he doesn’t say anything and so neither do you. with you spending most of your night awake, you saw that he was able to get more rest than you did. lucky him.

it hurts to move, but you reach for your phone and check for any signs of lorelai. none. there is one text from camille, sent 40 minutes ago.

➤ camille: I talked to Lorelai’s sister. She went to go see about a missing persons report. The police took her information but didn’t seem very concerned about it and said she might have just stayed the night with other friends after the party. Apparently a lot of others had the same idea as you. Campus is a ghost town. They’re still identifying all the bodies, so no word yet.

➤ y/n: so we just have to sit here and wait to see if she’ll turn up alive or dead? that’s useless.

➤ camille: As per fucking usual with the pigs.

➤ camille: She also told me there’s supposed to be a lockdown or something. It’s on the news.

➤ y/n: a lockdown???

looking around the room, you spot the TV remote sitting on yoongi’s coffee table a few feet away. you try to sit up, but it takes you a couple minutes longer than you anticipate because of the pain. jungkook notices the movement from the corner of his eye and turns to look at you. “what are you doing?”

“tryna get the remote.”

jungkook grabs it and hands it to you, and you turn the TV to one of the local news channels.

➤ camille: They’re telling people not to leave their homes for anything non-essential while they search for him. Not sure how long that’s supposed to last. I guess now they wanna get serious about this fucking killer? Too late for that.

you and jungkook watch as the newscaster gives a rundown of last night’s events; to your small relief, it looks like the killer didn’t try to go to the campus after the murders at the party house. the newscaster goes on to announce that the police are instating a citywide curfew, which they’ll discuss further at a press conference in the afternoon. in the meantime, they advise everyone to only travel in groups, shelter in place if possible, and keep all windows and doors locked.

you laugh humorlessly, and jungkook glances at you again. “in groups? we were all packed into one damn house at the party, and how much did that help?”

➤ y/n: are you sure you’re okay at the uni?

➤ camille: I’m fine. My roommate brought some of her friends into our room so no one’s left alone. Either way, my dad is coming to help me move some of my things out and come back home.

➤ y/n: okay, please just stay safe.

➤ camille: You too.

“what now?” jungkook says once the newscast goes off. “everybody just stays holed up for like a month while they hunt for that guy?”

you roll your eyes. “people won’t stay in their homes for that long. i don’t know how any of this is gonna work. we wouldn’t be in this mess now if they’d cared when this first started happening.”

“you think so? students would still be getting killed. the only difference is that a good chunk of people would just be sitting at home freaking the fuck out and too scared to go anywhere while the killer would still be on the loose.”

“…damn. it’s truly bleak to assume we’d still be in the same situation. you’re an optimistic one.”

“better than deluding yourself about it.”

“whatever. where’s your family to freak out over you? somebody should be concerned about your whereabouts by now. didn’t you say you have a brother? speaking of, i’m gonna have to call my sister soon…”

jungkook turns back to the TV, and you can tell he’s become more tense than he was seconds ago. “yeah, but i’m estranged from them. yoongi’s my family.”

wrong thing to ask. you wonder about the reason for it but decide it’s probably better not to pry. “ah…that sucks.”

jungkook looks back at you like he’s irked by that response, but he makes a noise resembling a chuckle. “tell me about it.”

later that afternoon, after you’ve reassured your sister veronica on her work break that you are fine and at a “friend’s” house (because you have no clue how to refer to either of these men), you and yoongi sit at the kitchen table with brunch while jungkook goes outside to examine the damage to his car more closely.

it’s difficult to eat, but you do so anyway; you don’t want to be rude by wasting the food yoongi made. the news station still plays loudly from the living room as you wait for the press conference to come on.

“so, about you and jungkook...” yoongi starts, looking at you from over the rim of his cup of coffee.

“what about me and jungkook?”

“we both know he didn’t get those bites on his neck from a wild animal attack.”

you sit up straighter in your seat, a sudden spike of irritation hitting you. “aren’t we all grown here? who cares?” you try to sound unbothered despite feeling very green about all of this. after all, you’d only had sex for the first time last night.

“look, i don’t care. fuck him all you want. i’m just trying to advise you not to get emotionally involved, because that’s not how jungkook operates. the amount of girls i’ve had somehow coming after my neck when their situationship with him doesn’t work out is starting to get really old. it’d be best if you didn’t do the same.”

you’re simultaneously annoyed at his assumption of you and flustered because you want to prove him wrong about acting the same as the other girls. you hate both feelings. “i don’t want anything like that with him. i just needed something done and i got it. it doesn’t matter anymore.”

yoongi shrugs, and you get the sense he’s heard that before and isn’t convinced, but you can’t be bothered going back and forth with him about this.

the press conference comes on TV a few minutes later. they announce that classes at your university are cancelled indefinitely; parents and relatives will need to come move their students out, and the school will be operating with a skeleton staff and increased security presence for any students who can’t leave the campus. the citywide curfew will be at 8 p.m. every night, by which time almost everyone will need to be in their homes, and it will end at 6 a.m each morning.

“fun,” you say sarcastically. “at least i won’t have to worry about finals and trying not to get murdered at the same time.”

when jungkook comes back inside, you let him know about what he missed from the press conference.

“we should just stay here for now.” when you raise your eyebrows, jungkook says, “i basically live here when i’m not on campus for classes. plus yoongi-hyung lets me bring girls here all the time, this is nothing new.”

“if both of you are gonna be hiding out in my place, we’ll need to go to the store,” yoongi says. “more mouths to feed.”

“…or i could just go home?” you propose, your mind reeling at them already making plans. you feel awkward about staying in a stranger’s house for who knows how long. “i think we only really needed to stay here for the night. it’s fine.”

“will you have people there with you?” jungkook asks. “it’s not safe to be alone.”

you’re surprised he seems to be this concerned, but you answer: “well, i mean…my sister works 12-hour shifts as a nurse and she’s the only one living there, so…” you’d chosen your university because your older sister lived in the area, and because it was a tradition for women in your family to attend that school, but there were no other relatives you could turn to. your parents lived a couple of towns away.

yoongi comes to the conclusion so you don’t have to. “in other words, you’ll be alone most of the day.”

“…i guess. but i’m really not tryna impose on you by staying here.”

yoongi tilts his head, a small smirk on his lips. you automatically dislike the look on his face. “why don’t you take jungkook with you, then?”

you and jungkook glance at each other. “but, hyung…”

yoongi shakes his head. “you already know i can take care of myself. seriously, don’t worry about it.” and then yoongi winks at you. you don’t know for sure, but you take that to mean he’s probably packing heat like camille’s dad.

“if you’re sure.” turning to you, jungkook says, “so, how about it?”

“it’s my sister’s house, so i’ll have to ask her,” you say tentatively. “yeah…uh. let me do that now, i guess.” you pull out your phone to text her about it, though you know it’ll be a while before she gets another work break and can answer. “in the meantime…i think we’ll need to go to the store either way. and then to campus to pick our things up.”

“you’re right. let’s go then,” jungkook says.

the store is full of people panic-buying food and necessities in preparation for the curfew and effective lockdown, which you expected. you and jungkook end up going your separate ways to find the things you need because it’s quicker that way, and because you want to get in and out of the store as soon as possible. the crowdedness is too much like the party, and despite yourself, anxiety begins rising in you due to the claustrophobic atmosphere. you try to maintain even breaths as you keep searching for items. just what you need—a shiny new trauma to make your life harder.

you pass by a man in one of the less-crowded aisles before realizing he’s standing in front of what you need to get, examining one of the food packages. you wait a few moments to see if he’ll finish up soon, and when your eyes begin to wander, you see that there’s a long gray hair clinging to the back of his leather jacket, standing out clearly against the black. you probably wouldn’t have noticed this at all on any other day, except your mind has been on high alert for hours now; you find it strange that this strand clearly doesn’t match the shade or length of the hair on his head, which is short and plain brown. the shade of the hair also weirdly reminds you of something, though you can’t quite recall what; it remains just out of your mind’s reach.

you shake your head. he could’ve come to the store with somebody who has long gray hair, or hugged them before he left home, and a strand stuck to his jacket. it’s the least of your issues right now.

the man must feel your presence behind him because he turns around to look at you. you’re a little taken aback by his gaze; his expression isn’t mean per se, but very intense, as if his entire focus is trained on you.

there’s a second’s pause, like he’s thinking about something before he speaks. “am i in your way?” he asks, never breaking eye contact. his voice doesn’t portray any particular emotion.

“i just have to get something really quick.” he steps aside and gestures to the rows of food without a word. you slip in beside him and grab what you need before moving away again. “thanks.” you think about telling him about the hair on his jacket but decide against it; your decision is solidified when you spot a wolf figurine keychain on his keys, faded from time but still distinguishable. it makes your breath catch.

there’s no way it could be him. it was kind of dark in the party house with nothing but string lights and lamps illuminating it, and everything happened so quickly…but you do remember the colors of that mask. red, yellow, black—and that dark gray for the fur.

but maybe it’s really all just a coincidence; how much sense would it make to turn every person with wolf paraphernalia and random stray hairs into a suspect?

you walk down the rest of the aisle and away from the man with growing unease. maybe it’s time to find jungkook so you can get out of here; you can hardly keep yourself together, and despite your best attempts at logic, you can’t stop yourself from getting more frantic about those two things.

speeding up your walk and weaving through people, you look down every aisle in search for jungkook before you find him, rushing over to him as you breathe heavily.

“whoa, what the hell is wrong? did somebody do something?”

“no, i…”

“what happened?”

“it’s the…well, the…i saw, uh…”

“y/n.”

“i saw—the mask. the fur from the mask. do you remember it?”

“…you mean that stupid ass werewolf mask?” you gesture for jungkook to lower his voice. “wait, you’re saying you saw it in here?”

“no, i saw a man who had a strand of hair on his jacket…” it starts sounding ridiculous to your own ears the more you speak, but you continue. “the strand—it was the same color as that fur. the same length! and he—he had some weird wolf keychain…”

jungkook stares at you for a long moment before sighing. “you’re not serious? a random strand of hair that could be from anybody or anything? that could be from someone’s fucking grandma for all we know. plus a keychain…maybe he just likes wolves, y/n.”

you already know that saying i just feel like something is off won’t be enough to convince him. you sigh with a deep sense of defeat, considering that he’s probably right. maybe your initial assumption was the more sensible answer. “…right. i think i’m just really fucked up right now after everything that happened. can we finish up here?”

“yeah, we will. because you definitely need to lay down soon or something. you haven’t had any sleep all night, right?” the way jungkook eyes you with concern as if you’ve lost your mind annoys you. you’re about to give a smart remark when you notice something in the carrying-basket he has.

“…a baseball bat?”

“if the killer comes after us again, duh. we’ll be prepared this time. or at least i will.”

“good luck with that if he happens to have another gun.” rolling your eyes, you brush past jungkook to go to one of the checkout counters.

in the parking lot, you see that the man from earlier has also come out and is putting the last of his grocery bags into his car trunk. there’s really nothing spectacular about his appearance that would make him stand out in a crowd, with his average height and average looks, let alone incriminate him as a serial killer. yet that familiar unease won’t leave.

he sees you and jungkook walking towards the car together, and his eyes dart to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. then he makes eye contact with you. you give a half-hearted wave, unsure what else to do with his eyes stuck on you. for a moment, his lips turn up into the faintest smile before he shakes his head and gets into his own car.

--

MONDAY, NOV 6

you’ve spent half of saturday and all of sunday trying to get used to living in your sister’s house with jungkook. veronica had been surprisingly okay with having him stay over, though most of it was her being relieved you finally found “a potential boyfriend who’s actually cute.” you didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

you’ve also been constantly checking on camille (to her eventual annoyance) and seeing if there are any more updates on lorelai. still nothing. your dread grows the further away you get from that bloody friday, but you try to keep your thoughts from straying too darkly.

right now, you, veronica, and jungkook all sit on the couch together in a neat little row, a bowl of popcorn in front of you on the coffee table and some science-fiction B-movie playing on the TV. your sister proposed the idea to distract yourselves from everything going on, but so far, you feel like it isn’t very effective. at least not for you. your mind keeps wandering to other things every 5 minutes.

eventually, veronica yawns widely, stretching her arms and legs before rising off the couch. “okay, i’m getting tired as fuck. i need to go to sleep for work tomorrow anyway. you guys enjoy the rest of the movie, okay?” she pats your shoulder as she passes by you on her way out of the room.

jungkook waves. “oh, sure. goodnight.”

“night, sis.”

when jungkook’s attention goes back to the movie, your sister makes eye contact with you and points her finger at you menacingly. you give her a shocked look while she mouths you know what i mean and swirls her finger in jungkook’s direction. embarrassed at the implication, you roll your eyes and turn your head back to the TV screen. having sex with jungkook on your sister’s couch is not high on your list of priorities tonight.

after your sister is gone, jungkook spreads out on the couch like it’s his own living room, placing his legs right over your lap. you sigh, looking over at him—and hoping that your eyes don’t linger too obviously on the expanse of thigh muscle that’s now on display from his shorts riding up higher.

“…really? i don’t want your big ole legs in my lap.”

jungkook just grins. “you should lay down too, it’s more comfortable this way.” you stare at him, and he tries to egg you on by pulling the sleeve of your shirt. “come on.”

“i’m not laying down on top of you, if that’s what you’re after.”

you do end up lying down, but on the opposite side of the couch so that your legs are tangled together, which really just increases the amount of contact between you either way—but whatever.

this makes jungkook laugh more. “ha, it’s like we’re scissoring.”

“so damn corny.”

you two continue watching the rest of the movie, but by the end of it you don’t remember half of what happened. taking the remote, you flip through the channels and try to find something else to look at. there isn’t much interesting to watch on a random monday night—which would be a school night anyway, if not for the current context.

as you search for a channel, jungkook asks: “what would you do if you found out who the killer was?”

you squint your eyes at his odd question. maybe the obvious answer would be to alert the police. but after days of having your anger stoked like a fire, that’s not exactly the answer you’d choose. “maybe i’d kill him.” the words leave your lips easily, and you hardly think twice about them once they’re out.

neither of you speak for a few long moments.

“does that scare you?” you ask, after the silence starts annoying you. you want to laugh, but there’s nothing really funny about the situation.

“…not really. angry women are kinda sexy. so are dangerous ones.”

you scoff. “i’m not tryna be sexy, you fool. and how many dangerous women have you dealt with? seems to me you only have a thing for the innocents.”

“it’s not like i only fuck virgins. you don’t even know me like that.” he nudges your leg with his foot like he’s also annoyed, but his expression doesn’t show any actual irritation.

“…if you want to go back and forth about it, go outside and argue with the wall or something. i’m in no mood, jungkook.” you shove his foot off of you. “just, holy shit. i wish i could have just one hour where i don’t have to think about any of this shit. my mind can’t even breathe.”

he’s actually quiet for a couple minutes after. you think he’s moved on from the conversation until he finally says, “i can give you an hour.”

your body becomes alert at that. the insinuation in his tone is obvious. you glance backwards as if your sister could hear you from upstairs, though you know that’s illogical. “i got what i wanted from you already,” you whisper.

“so? what if i wanted to give you more? you know you’re allowed to have sex with a person more than once, yeah?” he chuckles.

here he is making you this offer, and once again you feel like you’ve been reduced to the state of a confused lamb in front of a hungry wolf. you realize that the idea of letting yourself get more physically entangled with jungkook scares you. he is not someone you can turn into a boyfriend, who wants to be a boyfriend, and you are only looking to save yourself from any potential hurt. “it would just be sex—right? you have to know i’m not looking for anything deeper from you.”

jungkook smirks. like with yoongi, you don’t know if he believes you. “i know.”

you want to undo almost everything from the past few days. you can’t forget, but for a while, you want to just exist outside of the timeline where there’s a killer on the loose and one of your friends is missing. it’s too much to handle; your body is approaching its limits for the amount of stress it can take. you need a balm to numb the pain and the fear, and you dislike that you are giving into your base instincts to do so. you feel guilty, somehow. but pleasure is easy. at least it has been whenever you sought it on your own—and now you have someone else to give it to you. someone who is in front of you now, proposing it with all the willingness in the world. maybe there’s really nothing wrong with saying yes.

“jungkook…”

“hm?”

“please just shut the fuck up and don’t say another word about the outside world right now. i don’t want to think about anything but your…” you falter, still trying to get used to expressing what you want sexually.

jungkook sits up, his hands sliding up your legs and to your hips. “but my what?”

“um, your…” your thoughts end when he leans down and pulls the hem of your sweater up, planting a kiss on your waist where your skin meets the waistband of your sweatpants. one kiss turns into a second, and a third. the fourth becomes an open-mouthed embrace of his lips on your skin, and you make a small noise of pleasure when his tongue gets involved.

“careful. don’t want veronica to come down here, remember?”

you huff. “that isn’t happening any time soon, believe me.”

his kisses continue as he begins to slide your sweatpants down, revealing the waistband of your panties. once they’re fully on display, he leans forward to nuzzle his face between your thighs, his mouth and nose pressing into the seat of your underwear. his actions take you off guard. you actually give a brief chuckle from surprise, though you are also somewhat embarrassed. “now what the hell are you doing?”

“let me savor my meal before i eat it.” his warm breaths tickle your inner thighs as he speaks.

“ugh, don’t turn me off.”

“that’s funny, because i seem to have an easy time getting you wet.” to prove it, his fingers press into the seat of your underwear to feel the wetness that’s seeped into them; you sigh from the brief pleasure his fingers’ movements afford you before he pulls them away.

jungkook drags your panties down next, his lips trailing down your lower abdomen and across the curls of hair covering your pubic mound. your body fills with anticipation at the gradual pace of his actions and the purposeful, wet caresses of his mouth.

when he uses his thumbs to press your lower lips apart and expose you more fully to him, you have half a mind to be self-conscious about it until he places his mouth on you in earnest.

jungkook eats like someone who hasn’t done so in a while and doesn’t know when he’ll get to do it again. his mouth sucks at your clit like he’s desperate for you to come, tongue rolling over the swollen nub in an unrelenting pattern that has your stomach tensing, and you quickly realize you do have to try to silence yourself even if you know it won’t wake veronica up. you twist your hands into the sleeves of your sweater and lean your head back on the couch’s armrest as you arch your hips up closer to jungkook’s face, uncaring about how vulnerable you feel completely offering yourself up to him like this; right now, all you want is to feel good.

“gonna come quick again? maybe we can set a new record?” jungkook pins your knee against the couch with his elbow to keep your legs open as he slides two fingers inside, diving straight in instead of working you up this time. your body breaks out in a sweat and you know you really won’t last long once he does this, the tips of his fingers aiming for that dreadful, wonderful, and overpowering place inside you. you don’t know how people do this—you feel like you’re going to die when he stimulates that spot, and all you want to do is scream even though you can’t.

“a r-record? fuck off…” you choke out, though you begin to rock your hips into the rhythm of his fingers, needing so badly for him to take you over the edge again.

he chuckles. “i don’t think you want me to fuck off right now.”

you have no words for a good comeback when he buries his head between your legs and slurps at your pussy again and crooks his fingers repeatedly to where your orgasm is unexpectedly rushing down upon you, causing your body to tense as you gasp and stifle any sounds that escape with your sweater sleeve.

jungkook doesn’t stop there and you don’t really expect him to, because you’re beginning to learn he isn’t a one-and-done type of man. he keeps sucking and stroking you right into another releasewhile you push the beanie off his head, fist your fingers into his strands, and tremble over the sight of his pitch-black mess of hair between your thighs. something about the visual is so appealing to you.

after he has made you come for the third time, you watch him sit up on his knees to reach into his shorts and pull his dick out, his darkened tip slick with precum. his long hair falls into his face as he glances downward, using the hand he’d been fingering you with to lube himself up with your cum.

“come here,” you tell him, your voice coming out sharper than you intended; but he doesn’t care, because he follows your request without a word and presses himself into your side. the couch is just big enough to accommodate both of you in this position, but it’s still a tight fit, and your bodies are once again tangled together.

“let me touch you,” you say, your palm pressed to his stomach, feeling the firmness of the muscle.

he raises his eyebrows, like you didn’t even need to ask. “of course.”

“no, i mean…” he realizes what you actually mean as you brush his hand away from his shaft and wrap your fingers around it instead.

“should i teach you how?” jungkook brings his hand to overlap yours, though his breath becomes a bit strained when you slide your hand to the base of his cock and back to the tip again, the pads of your fingers rubbing over the sensitive head. seeing your fingers around him turns him on more than he thought it could, and it’s just a simple fucking handjob.

you roll your eyes. “stroking a dickshouldn’t be that hard.”

“everyone likes it differently, though. fast, slow, soft, or rough…just the tip, or the whole shaft.” you can’t deny that—or the way you find yourself throbbing at his words, his voice husky from the pleasure. which is why you let jungkook close his hand more fully around yours and guide your movements.

it’s captivating to observe his reactions from your hand on his skin—the heavy breaths he lets out and the soft moans and even softer whimpers that come in between the exhales. whenever you squeeze his shaft more firmly or rub your thumb against his leaking tip, you find yourself grinning at the rise and fall of his chest and the tongue that darts out of his mouth to lick at his lips. but mostly, your eyes are drawn back to the sight of your hand working him over, his thighs and stomach tensing sporadically.

eventually, you both look away from your joined hands and at each other’s faces. your eyes dart to his lips and back to his gaze again, and you shift your face forward to signal your desire for a kiss. he meets you there by pressing his lips to yours, and it isn’t hard for him to get lost in the meeting of your mouths and the heat from your palm on his shaft.

your free hand returns to his soft hair to tug on it as your tongues slide against each other. he grunts at the burn of his roots being pulled but doesn’t stop you; on the contrary, his body responds favorably as more precum swells from his tip and his nipples poke against the material of his shirt.

“do you like that, jungkook?” you mumble against his mouth.

“you know i do.” at some point, his hand falls away and he lets you stroke him on your own.

jungkook gives a shuddering moan into your mouth when he climaxes minutes later, thick streams of his cum shooting onto his shirt and dripping down your hand. he tries to keep quiet and doesn’t entirely succeed, but it doesn’t much matter.

you squeeze the few remaining drops of cum from his cockhead, trying to make sure you don’t grip hard enough to actually hurt him. you pull your sticky hand away from jungkook when you think he’s finally emptied, but he grabs your wrist and you look at him questioningly. you watch with shocked eyes as jungkook brings your hand up and takes your messy fingers into his mouth, sucking his cum from them. you know instinctively it isn’t the first time he’s done this—not with the look of pure satisfaction on his features as he licks his own seed off your fingers.

his enthusiastic pleasure is part of the reason why you accept when jungkook gives you a crushing kiss, passing his cum from his tongue to yours. you don’t know what you expected it to taste like, but it isn’t gross like you’ve heard others complain about when sharing their sex tales; despite being salty, the overall taste is neutral. still, it takes some getting used to.

when you pull away from each other, noses brushing and lips wet from each other’s spit, you look into his dark brown eyes and get the sudden desire to say something that’s been buried in the back of your mind for days now.

“why did you come straight to me that night?” you whisper. “like you already knew who you were there for.”

jungkook stares back, his lips curving up slightly. “i just wanted to. or i wanted you, more specifically.”

“that’s not an answer.”

“well, it’s my answer.”

“was i another one to knock off your list?”

“you think i have a list?”

“i’m not stupid. it’s not unusual for guys to have a list. plus, plenty of rumors go around.”

jungkook taps his fingers underneath your chin and kisses you on the lips again, though it is brief. “stop believing everything you hear.”

you clearly won’t be getting a straight answer from him tonight. with the moment broken, you sigh and begin pulling your bottoms back on. “…whatever you say, dude.” once you’re dressed, you climb over his body to get off the couch. you poke him in the chest as your eyes roam over him in his disheveled state, his shorts pulled down and his cum staining his black shirt. “might wanna clean yourself up, huh? i’m going to sleep. and, yeah…thanks for the distraction.”

--

TUESDAY, NOV 7

with the weather being as cold as it is and heading toward winter in another month or so, lorelai is surprised by how quickly the bodies began to smell.

she doesn’t know much of anything about bodily decomposition—because, to her parents’ disappointment, she wasn’t about to be a biology major and have to be around cadavers in a dissection lab—but if this were a movie or something, she would’ve thought it would take longer than just one day. the smell started to hit her the saturday after the party.

but ultimately, this isn’t a movie, and the fact that she’s trapped in a decrepit house in some remote part of town is her present reality.

she doesn’t remember anything about how she got to this house; she thinks she must have been concussed before she was brought here. her head has been hurting badly for days, and not even the simple relief of a painkiller is available.

what she does know is that she’s being kept in a dirty living room on an equally dirty mattress, her hands and legs tied by rope and zip-ties. if there were any miniscule chance of her escaping, it would be impossible to go anywhere considering both her ankles are broken, only adding to the amount of physical pain she’s been in for days.

the living room is mostly empty except for the bodies of some other students from the party, which have been scattered around the room. lorelai tries not to look at them—especially not at the ones she knows—but it’s difficult. they become even more terrifying to her when night falls, turning into dark, rotting shadows in the corners of the room. there has been nothing but the company of these corpses for days, and a couple of visits from the killer.

he's never once taken off his wolf mask or his gloves, and every other part of his body stays covered in all black. she doesn’t have the first idea of what he looks like underneath it all. he has spoken to her a few times, but the voice isn’t one she recognizes. his words when she first awoke inside this house still knock around in her mind, filling her with dread.

he’d crouched in front of her, watching her move around on the mattress and try to orient herself. he had the casual air of someone observing a flipped-up bug struggle on the sidewalk before crushing it underfoot. “you aren’t y/n, but you’ll do for now. we’ll have some real fun later on. you’ll help me give her a good scare.”

“how the fuck do you know y/n?” lorelai had struggled against her restraints, but this only made her newly broken ankles hurt worse. tears began to fall from her eyes from the pain and fear.

the killer had said nothing to that—only tilted his head curiously and stared at her, which was unnerving even if she couldn’t see his eyes.

“you have no fucking reason to go after her, she’s not even a virgin anymore you dumb fuck—” with those words, the killer had backhanded her, sending her already injured head into a fresh wave of agony.

“things would’ve been different if not for that fucking party. you students think you’re so fucking clever, yeah? and look how you paid for it.” it was impossible to see any facial expression, but his body language spoke of anger. “no matter, though. virgin or not, i’ll see this through to the end.”

now it’s yet another morning, and he has returned. he has a lot of debris in his hands—stuff like sticks and dry moss and foliage. he’s also carrying a small bag, the contents of it a mystery. everything he does causes alarm for lorelai, but now confusion joins in.

“ready to have some fun?” he asks. with duct tape over her mouth, she can’t answer back. she watches as he arranges the debris on the ground in front of her, her anxiety mounting as he takes a lighter out of his pocket and sets fire to the foliage.

leaning forward, he rips part of the duct tape away from her mouth with his gloved hand, causing her face to sting. “got anything to say?”

“wh-what the fuck are you doing?”

“i’m gonna stoke a nice fire here…get this knife hot enough to hurt.” he brings out his knife then, and lorelai shrinks away from the blade as he drags the flat of it across her throat—but there’s nowhere else to go, as she’s sitting up against the wall. “then i’ll just cut this pretty little body up a bit. the finishing touch…i think i’ll slice your throat open. how does that sound?” he takes the knife away from her neck to hold the blade over the flames.

lorelai’s breath hitches, and her stomach begins to physically hurt from the outpouring of anxiety flowing through her. she starts to sob, trying to speak through the tears and snot and drool. the only question she can muster up is, “wh-why?”

“this is for y/n—remember? i hope that concussion hasn’t fucked with your memory.” the killer watches the reflection of the flames on the blade as it grows hotter. “and…i’m doing someone a favor.” he doesn’t wait for her to speak again before putting the duct tape back in place over her mouth, leaving her to cry to herself and face her rising distress as he heats the knife until it’s burning hot. internally, she wishes there was any way in the world to get out of this situation.

it isn’t much longer before he’s finished. lorelai screams as he approaches her with the knife, and then at the feeling of the red-hot blade scorching her skin, though the sounds are stifled by the duct tape.

“now, be still while i fix you up.”

--

WEDNESDAY, NOV 8

you go outside that afternoon to check the mail and have an excuse to get out of the house; it doesn’t matter if it’s only for a few moments. you’re not used to staying cooped up in one place for so long with absolutely nothing to do, and you feel like you’re not too far off from going mad with cabin fever. it hasn’t even been a week since everything happened.

you open the mailbox, and there are the usual bills along with something strange: a blank envelope with no return address. even your sister’s address isn’t written on it. flipping it over, you see that the envelope was never sealed. someone must’ve just come up and put it inside the mailbox. but who the hell would do that, and for what reason? whenever any of your neighbors have something to give you or your sister, they come straight up to the house to do it.

inside the envelope is a set of polaroids. their content makes you drop the rest of the mail. your legs grow weak, and you end up sitting down hard on the end of the driveway, some of the polaroids slipping from your hands. the pictures show the bodies of some of the students from your university, their corpses posed in odd positions and some bare of clothing—all dead.

you struggle to breathe as you frantically flip through the rest of the pictures. in the center of all the group photos is lorelai, her neck torn open and her wrists and ankles tied. she’s still dressed the way she was the night of the party, though her dress is stained with dark brown blood. there are open cuts all over her bare skin, their appearance rough-looking and uneven as if they’ve been cauterized.

there are several group polaroids, several of lorelai alone, and several angles of the outside of a house, which must be the same one the bodies are being kept in. one photo of lorelai slips out of your shaking hands, and you see there’s barely legible handwriting on the back of it, which reads, “this is just the teaser, y/n.”

you scream and don’t stop screaming until jungkook comes running out of the house holding the baseball bat, as if the killer might’ve gotten bold enough to attack in daylight. a couple of your neighbors peek out of their houses and make their way over with concern on their faces once they see you sitting on the ground, your exclamations ringing through the street.

there’s a disarrayed group of people around you grabbing at your shoulders and asking what’s wrong, what happened, and then gasps and exclamations of shock when they see the polaroids. you feel yourself being pulled to your feet and then lifted up—maybe it’s jungkook, because it smells like him—but you’re too disoriented to make proper sense of anything right now. you can only think of how much time has been wasted, and how little time lorelai actually had left.

--

SUNDAY, NOV 12

in the main lobby of the funeral home, you sit in a chair next to camille, staring into empty space while the other girl tries to cry as quietly as she can. she cries as if she’s ashamed of it, and you wish you could comfort her, but you don’t know what to say or do. for the past few days, you’ve mostly just felt numb.

you’re waiting for veronica to come back out so you can leave, as she’d stayed behind after the service to talk to lorelai’s family for a little longer.

lorelai’s family had opted to have her cremated after seeing the state of her body. a lot of other families did the same after the events of cherry bomb, not even wanting to entertain the idea of a closed-casket funeral. you can understand their feelings about it if you push through the haze in your mind to consider it for long enough. though the morticians have done the best they can over the past week, sometimes knowing that your loved one has multiple stab wounds and eviscerated organs beneath all the makeup and fancy clothing is too much to handle.

when veronica finally comes out, the three of you walk outside to join the rest of the people who’ve started getting in their cars. some still linger in small huddles, shaking their heads and wiping their faces.

jungkook, who’d driven you and veronica to the memorial, waits outside for you all, leaning on the side of the building. you both thought it was probably better for him not to attend the service considering lorelai was never fond of him and he didn’t know her that well.

“is it finished?” he asks.

“it is.” veronica sighs. “god, funerals are so damn…bleak.”

you notice a man waving at your group from the other side of the parking lot and realize it’s camille’s dad. her posture straightens when she catches sight of him, and she hurriedly tries to wipe the rest of her tears before shoving her tissue into her pocket. “i-i think my dad is waiting for me. i…i’ll see you guys later, alright?”

“okay, camille.” the strange absence of emotion that you’ve been trapped in for the past few days suddenly cracks open when you notice camille’s anxious demeanor as she speed-walks away from the rest of you. intense sorrow overtakes you; you don’t want her to leave, but she has to go.

you are crying before you fully understand what’s happening. veronica puts her arms around you and squeezes you against the side of her body. jungkook reaches a thumb up to wipe away your tears, though you don’t let him get very far before turning your head away and into veronica’s shoulder.

“y/n…”

“how am i supposed to go on?” you exclaim, catching the attention of a few people nearby. “the police said maybe she’s just staying with friends. and now look. plus, the killer knows where me and my sister live now…maybe he always knew.”

“we don’t even have a clue who the killer is…” jungkook mumbles. “there’s no one you know of who might have a grudge against you?”

“no, jungkook. the police already gave me all that questioning. and it doesn’t help me feel any better to think maybe all these deaths are somehow my fault.” you scoff.

“y/n, nothing’s your fault because some freak decided to go around killing people; that was his decision.” jungkook argues.

you nod slightly to his words but say nothing else, not wanting to go further into that topic. you don’t know if you can believe him about that.

the parking lot is emptying out now, so you try to pull yourself together so the three of you can leave. “well…you don’t need to keep staying with us if you don’t want to. we have those assigned bodyguards now, so…” you glance in the direction of one other car sitting beside jungkook’s—inside it are two men the police force appointed after the polaroids of the bodies were planted in your sister’s mailbox.

jungkook looks at you as if he’s trying to gauge your expression; he himself looks surprised, though he attempts to play it off. veronica glances between you both, recognizing the awkward shift in the air.

“you don’t want me there anymore? i mean it is your house—” he glances at veronica “—so that’s fine with me if—"

“what? i didn’t say i don’t want you there, neither did veronica, it’s just if you don’t want to be there—"

“i never said i didn’t want to be there, though?”

you both become quiet, jungkook looking at you and you returning his gaze for a few seconds before looking off to the side. veronica is still standing between you both like she’d rather be anywhere else on earth.

“i just figured that maybe…” why are you being so concerned about me? isn’t this the part where we go our separate ways? is what you really want to ask. you have seen and learned enough from your friends’ and even your acquaintances’ experiences to realize that any other one night stand would not have cared so much. that’s how these things go, right? but he isn’t really a one night stand anymore, either.

you don’t even know if you’re considered friends with benefits, but what would that change? you’d still seen others tossed aside without much thought by their FWBs while in times of need. considering his history, you don’t understand why jungkook isn’t following the same template now, and you don’t think you should ask why for fear of breaking the illusion.

fed up with your own confusion, you decide now isn’t the time to lament on your lack of knowledge about these things. “nevermind. that’s fine. so you’ll stay?”

the corner of his mouth lifts in a brief smile. “i’ll stay as long as you won’t try to kick me out.”

you aren’t in the mood to attempt to smile back, but he seems to understand that. “right, well...good.”

“…now that you two have figured that shit out, can we leave?”

--

FRIDAY, NOV 17

jungkook thought that getting outside a bit more would help you feel better and prevent you from developing a complete fear of leaving the house, which is why you’re sitting in this claustrophobic little diner now with him, yoongi, and camille—and of course, your ever-present bodyguards in the booth behind you all. but this outing isn’t doing anything to mitigate your fears.

nearly 10 minutes in, you have to ask jungkook to switch seats with you so you’re not on the outside of the booth, as you’re afraid that it’s too easy-access if anyone—say, the killer, though you’ve been trying not to think so obsessively about him—were to come in and start stabbing you to death right where you sit. being on the inside calms you for a little while until you become anxious about the window beside you; what if he has a gun again and simply shoots through the glass? all he’d have to do is stand on the sidewalk and aim, his werewolf mask laughing at you with its eternally frozen growling expression, and your brains would be all over the table just like that frat guy’s.

your meal sits half-eaten as you get increasingly lost in your anxieties. the others are talking about something, but you can’t hear what. it’s like some of your senses have shut down or begun working incorrectly. the strawberry sauce in camille’s sundae looks too much like blood and even smells like it from the occasional whiffs you get, and you find yourself staring at the sundae dish and wanting to throw it across the restaurant.

jungkook’s hand touches you on the back, and the tension in your body increases. he feels it and draws away, though he keeps trying to meet your eyes. “are you okay?” he whispers.

“why ask that? she obviously isn’t,” yoongi says, like he’s annoyed with the obviousness of jungkook’s question.

“hyung, i’m just trying to help.”

“it was your great idea to come out here when she didn’t want to, though.”

“y/n—” camille starts.

“can’t you throw that out? it smells like blood.” your mouth feels useless and hard to maneuver, but you manage to say those words.

“what?”

“the…that. that thing.” everyone looks at camille’s melting sundae. yoongi raises his eyebrows.

“blood?”

“do you mean it—looks like blood?” jungkook suggests.

you raise your voice in irritation, not understanding how everyone else is unable to perceive the same scent that you do. “no, i-it does, but it smells like blood too! just get rid of it!”

one of the waitresses comes over to the table. “is everything okay over here?”

“um, we’re fine! i’m finished with this though.” camille hurriedly hands the sundae off to her, trying to keep the situation calm.

“oh, well—the rest of you too? that’ll be it, then?” she gathers everyone’s plates and leaves with a smile that attempts to be cordial but is still colored with unease.

her departure leaves a stiff silence in which you all spare glances at each other but try to avoid directly meeting eyes. camille is the first to break it.

“i’ll ask my dad if i can stay over with you,” she suggests. she suddenly sounds much more tired. jungkook’s eyebrows furrow slightly at her words; yoongi silently glances at the younger man. “just, you know…maybe the extra company would help? he’s been treating me like a kid again, but we should be safe with the bodyguards there, so…”

“you don’t have to do that,” you say, though you’re too exhausted to truly argue.

“you’re in shambles, y/n. and it’s not just for your benefit. i’m feeling pretty fucking alone right now, and it’s hard for my dad to understand the emotional side of it, so…” camille plays with her fingers and doesn’t look at anyone as she speaks; you know talking about her father can be a sore spot for her sometimes. “uh, anyway. not to trauma-dump or anything. just let me do this.”

you sigh. “fine…okay. do whatever you have to. can we just leave?”

as you’re all walking outside, jungkook pulls you aside.

“i still worry about you after that incident at the store, you know?” he admits.

you shrug his hand off your arm and glare at him. “you think i’m crazy.”

“i don’t. i just want you to be able to relax and not feel like you’re being hunted 24/7. i don’t think the killer is constantly waiting around the nearest corner for you, y/n.”

“you don’t know how close the killer could be. he knows where i go to sleep at night. so stop the bullshit, jungkook.”

“you’ll be okay. you have me, remember? i protected you that night…i can do it again.”

you examine his face for a long moment and find that you are too overwhelmed with stress and fear to be moved by his words. “i’d like to trust you…but the killer might just murder you too. then who’ll save me?” you don’t wait for his response before walking away to catch up with the other two.

--

LYING IN WAIT...

it’s strange to see the police bodyguards in veronica’s driveway and backyard everyday. it’s not the same two all day—they switch off so that there are two doing a day shift and two doing a night shift.

the security team at the hospital where your sister works is aware of the situation, so you try not to get too worried about her safety when she’s away from the house—but it’s difficult.

there have been no more kills connected to your university since lorelai. it seems like half the town has forgotten their fears and tried to go back to some sense of normalcy while the other half still hides away and lives in perpetual panic, including you. the former group of people has started muddying the waters for the police, with some teenagers getting brave enough to sneak around in wolf masks and vandalize buildings with red-lettered virgin graffiti just to fuck with the cops. there have even been a few people who turned themselves in claiming to be the killer—only their supposed confessions never matched the details of the case.

reporters have tried to hound lorelai’s family and your family several times for any speculations or answers on the killer’s identity, but none of you are willing to spread misinformation just to give them something to write about. however, that hasn’t stopped other residents of your town from sharing their speculations and even implicating their own relatives or neighbors—whether as a fucked-up joke or as genuine revenge just depends on whoever’s speaking. with all of these false leads, the police are still no closer to finding the killer than they’d initially been.

everyday feels like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, though the chances of any more kills are starting to seem improbable; the university is practically empty. but it doesn’t matter to you if the school is nearly deserted, because the killer has his aims set on you now, and you only wish you knew why.

up in your room, you and camille sit on your bed gazing out the window—the window that must always remain locked now, for fear of unwanted ingress. you’ve never been uncomfortable in your sister’s house, but lately you’ve been feeling like you’re boxed in with every wall pressing towards you.

sitting up from your lying-down position, you have to find the appropriate words for a moment before speaking. “camille—i can’t stop feeling like maybe we aren’t entirely safe,” you murmur.

camille raises her eyebrows. “why not? those guys stay outside all day, and we keep everything locked up day and night. literally, the only time the front door opens is for veronica to leave and come back from work everyday.”

“i don’t know. there’s no particular reason for it…it just seems like we’re waiting for something.”

“…yeah? for the killer to be caught.”

“but he’s made no moves recently. you remember the policeman’s daughter, right? i even texted her and she hasn’t heard anything new that we don’t already know. seems like things have slowed down at the police station. it’s not like that abandoned house was in the killer’s name or anything, so what leads would they have?”

camille frowns and rubs her eyes like something’s in them, but when she looks at you directly, you see her eyes are red from unshed tears. “…i want things to be okay, though. i’m tired of living like this. you know how i had to beg just to get my dad to let me leave the house. he’s constantly on edge.” you feel even more unsettled to see camille so distressed lately, as she’s always been the only one able to pull something funny out of a terrible situation—something enough to distract you from the horrors. “all i know is they’ll have to dig his ass out of some hole in the ground at some point. he can’t hide in this town forever.”

“yeah…i guess you’re right.” you still don’t feel reassured, but you don’t voice your doubts.

--

WEDNESDAY, NOV 22

“i think i might go mad,” camille says from her position on the armchair, her limbs splayed haphazardly across it and one hand stuck in a bag of chips.

you sigh. “you’re the one who wanted to watch this thanksgiving movie marathon.”

“the most mid holiday of the season,” jungkook adds.

“no one cares what either of you think, thanks.” it isn’t long before the program is over and the ending credits are rolling. with an exaggerated exhale, camille gets up from the chair and crunches the bag of chips in her hand. “i’m going to your room, y/n. you two just do whatever it is you do down here, since you hate my movie choices so much!”

“means we can finally turn the channel.” jungkook snatches the remote off the coffee table and does just that.

camille goes into the kitchen to throw out the chip bag and wash her hands. your focus returns to the TV. a few seconds later, you hear the upstairs flooring creak above the noise of the water pouring from the tap.

“what’s up, sis? i thought you were sleeping.” veronica is known to be a deep sleeper, so it’s not common for her to be getting up in the middle of the night. there’s no answer to your question. you glance upstairs, but your sister isn’t standing there; she isn’t standing at all, instead being carried by someone wearing an all-too familiar mask.

you scream as the killer tosses your sister over the stair railing. her torso has been sliced open from collarbone to navel, her body leaving a large splatter of blood on the floor where she lands. jungkook jumps to his feet but is momentarily immobilized as he gazes at your sister’s body crumpled on the floor. you slide off the couch and crawl over to her, still crying out, but there’s no life left to try and salvage.

the screaming brings camille rushing to the kitchen doorway. she can barely vocalize what’s wrong? before spotting veronica’s body and stopping in her tracks. in a moment that feels like it takes forever to pass, the killer pulls a gun from his waistband—you recognize it as one of the guns the policemen carry and realize he must’ve killed the bodyguard posted in the backyard—and shoots her in the chest twice.

“camille!” when you go over to where she’s lying on the ground, she is still alive but bleeding intensely and struggling to breathe. your knees slip in the blood that begins pooling around her. “shit, camille…p-please don’t die…” you press your hand against the wounds, but they’re bleeding so much that your efforts don’t help, and the pressure of your hand causes her more pain.

there’s the sound of a gunshot at the front door as the lock is blown off, and the door is banged open a few seconds later by the remaining bodyguard. he has virtually no time to fire off another shot before the killer is shooting him in the head first.

the killer throws the gun aside, taking his knife in his other hand and making his way down the stairs. “your sister left her window cracked open. i waited for days for a slip-up like that. see how much harm can come from a simple mistake? well, she was collateral damage anyway.”

even in your panic, it’s as if all your bodily functions freeze when you recognize the familiarity of the killer’s voice. camille reacts with a rattling gasp, but her body is becoming too weak for her to utter anything; all she can do is watch as the man stops at the bottom of the stairs and pulls his mask off.

“yoongi…” your voice breaks as you try to speak again, but nothing coherent comes out.

he drops the mask on the floor and brushes a hand through his hair. “i guess you weren’t expecting that. good. we kept it up ‘til the end.”

your lips form around the word we, but your vocal cords won’t cooperate. you twist around to look at jungkook, who is still standing by the couch.

the man who you’d gotten too close to for your own good and done so many firsts with, who’d promised you that he’d protect you and was even there for you on the day of lorelai’s memorial, looks at you now with eyes glowing from the thrill as his mouth twitches into a smile—small at first but growing into a full grin. “i almost can’t believe we staged all that shit and it actually worked. you really believed it all, y/n.

not all of those kills were hyung’s, of course...there’s no way i’d miss out on the best parts. you don’t know what it’s like until you kill a person for the first time. crashing cherry bomb was his idea, though. and lorelai was mine. that bitch would’ve kept you away from me, and i needed her gone for this kill to work.”

through tears, you finally muster up the strength to ask, “wh-why have you done this? that night…y-you mean to tell me none of that was real? being shot at—why would you—” your voice rises until you’re shouting. “you-you’ve killed so many people. what was the purpose?!”

jungkook’s smile fades somewhat as he pretends to think about it, acting like he’s reminiscing on wistful memories. “i realized that killing and fucking aren’t that different, y/n. the real ecstasy of it is in taking someone pure…and doing something to them that has never been done before, and can never be done again. there’s a certain eroticism in killing someone, stabbing them, entering them…it’s like sex in the most profane sense.”

“you’re disgusting,” you mutter, glaring at him through your tears. you can’t help but feel shame to think of the times you’d had sex with him. had he simply been imagining murdering you during those moments? it makes you want to throw up.

yoongi steps closer until he’s right in front of you and camille. “and as for me…i just enjoy it. practice really does make perfect. you wouldn’t believe how entertaining it can be to see someone beg for their life.” his lips turn upwards in a dark smile resembling jungkook’s. “but instead of raging at us, i think you have bigger matters to be concerned with.” yoongi gestures his knife hand to camille, and when you look down at her body, you realize she’s no longer moving.

you lift camille’s head up with your hands as if that could make her return your gaze, though you can find no sign of breathing or pulse. “god, no…” you scream in frustration, your hands slipping in her blood. you check once more and again for any signs of life, because there is just no possible way this could’ve happened, but there are none present. “please—i’m sorry…”

“time’s up.” yoongi grabs your arm and yanks you away from camille, jostling you to try to get you on your feet. you flail around in his grip, fruitlessly scratching at his arms that are covered by his thick jacket, before managing to elbow him in the groin with your frantic movements. “shit!” this causes him to loosen his grip, which is enough for you to scramble away from him, slipping in the blood as you go.

you make it to the other side of the room where the officer lies facedown—though there isn’t much left of his face from yoongi’s shot. you snatch the gun from the dead officer’s hand and point it in the direction of both men. the safety is already off; all you’d have to do is pull the trigger and kill either one of them right now. before you can act, yoongi uses his free hand to pull another gun from his waistband—his own.

“as i said before, i know how to take care of myself,” he says, flicking the safety off and aiming for you, though his stance shows he’s still in pain. “please don’t assume it’ll be that easy. do you even know how to shoot a gun?”

you and yoongi are at an impasse as you both point your guns at each other, jungkook looking on with casual amusement coloring his face. “fuck you,” you spit out. you remain hesitant to fire on him, knowing that even if you succeed, he could fatally shoot you at the same time.

“let’s not do it this way,” yoongi says, his voice low and soft in an attempt to be persuasive, though you just find it disturbing. “you were supposed to be a clean kill. a few stabs and it’d all be over. i’ll even let jungkook do it, since you seem to like each other so much. do you really want to be shot down like a dog like camille over there?”

“you and him can both fry in hell!” you shout.

yoongi glances over at jungkook. they both nod before yoongi hands the knife to him, and the younger man takes a few steps in your direction. you don’t know whether to point the gun at him or keep it trained on yoongi; your head is pounding with a headache that you’ve only just realized you have. “don’t come over here. stay away from me!”

you press your back to the wall as jungkook comes closer, inching towards your right side with his knife at the ready. you slide away from him as you keep your back against the wall. “hand it over, y/n. it doesn’t have to be like this.”

“hand it over and let you kill me? are you insane? you lied to me this whole time, you fucking piece of shit.”

jungkook scoffs and looks at yoongi as if to say can you believe this? “why wouldn’t i lie to you? you were always meant to die.”

he won’t stop coming towards you, and you’re running out of room to slide away from him. you grasp for anything to try to reason with him, though you know it’s futile. “you realize that if you kill me now and you conveniently survive, everyone will know it’s you? you’ve been living here for weeks, you jackass!”

“hyung and i have that covered. it’s not for you to worry about, considering you won’t be worrying about anything soon.”

jungkook lunges for you with the knife, thinking he can catch you off guard and overpower you. you scream and pull the trigger in your frenzied state of mind, shooting yoongi. the next few things seem to happen almost simultaneously:

you hear the crash of yoongi’s body hitting the TV stand and the TV falling to the floor.

you feel jungkook’s knife piercing your shoulder, causing you to fire a stray round into the wall from the unexpected burst of pain.

you hear another gunshot that’s not from you; you see and feel jungkook stumble into you, the knife sliding from his fingers and to the floor.

you realize that he’s been shot when his hand flies to the bullet wound on his lower back; he’d been standing in front of you, and yoongi meant to hit you, not him.

“jungkook!” yoongi’s shout is furious and regretful as he steadies himself on the TV stand.

trying to push the pain into the back of your mind, you clumsily grasp jungkook’s fallen knife and run for the stairs. more shots follow you and most of them miss but one, which strikes you in the thigh.  while you cling to the stair railing and try to regain your footing, you are suddenly staring mortality in the face and understanding with a freezing-cold clarity that you will die right now if you don’t do something.

your nervous system vibrates with fear and adrenaline as you tighten your grip on the police officer’s gun and shoot yoongi with it twice—in the same area he’d shot camille.

these last two bullets finish him off immediately. you don’t think it’s fair, with how camille suffered and bled and died in your arms. for a moment, you’re so outraged that you wish he’d come back to life so that you could kill him again. you’re torn from these thoughts by jungkook.

“you bitch…he was my only family after everyone else threw me away. do you understand? i’ll fucking kill you!” jungkook is nearly writhing in the ground from his upset and from the hurt of his injury; it frightens you that this same man is someone you once thought you could grow fond of.

you aim the gun for jungkook next, but the chamber is empty. either way, he currently has no weapon, which leaves you with a small chance to get away before he re-arms himself. throwing the gun away, you stagger up the rest of the steps while his screams continue echoing up to you.

you give no thought to the blood trail you’re leaving behind as you rush to veronica’s room and to the window yoongi had entered through. you begin squeezing yourself through, keeping your grip on your knife all the while, but your injuries make it difficult to move. a few more tears slip out as you try to balance your injured leg on the tree branch beneath the window, and the desperation of wanting to give up clings to you.

you hear jungkook’s heavy and limping footsteps coming up the stairs, and you attempt to hurry, but you’re only halfway out of the window. when he crashes into the room, it’s unnervingly easy for him to grab your arm and yank your body back through the window, uncaring of how you get scraped up in the process.

he jams you up against the nightstand with one of the kitchen knives to your neck to stop your movements; his harsh maneuver causes the objects on the nightstand to rattle. the nightstand’s edge digs into the backs of your thighs, the pressure causing your wounded thigh to hurt more.

“you want to know why i picked you?” jungkook hisses, the knife’s blade stinging your throat as it begins to break skin. “you were just another choice out of many, but i decided you’d be the first one that i’d fuck and kill.”

it’s painful to hear, but it angers you at the same time. “fuck you!” in your rage, you spit in his eyes. jungkook jerks back and the knife shifts from its previous position at your neck; you take those few seconds to grasp the alarm clock off the nightstand and crash it against his head.

“shit—!” he cries out, stumbling and grasping the side of his head. he tries to grab for you again, but you jump onto the bed and crawl away from him, your stomach lurching at all of veronica’s blood soaked into the sheets. you spot a small decorative glass bowl on the dresser—the one filled with little candies that you’d always teased veronica for, saying she was so much like a grandma handing out treats to her grandchildren. when your feet touch the ground again, you clasp your hand around it like it’s a lifeline and fling it at jungkook’s head as hard as you can, just as he makes it around the bed to your side. the shards cut his face when it breaks, slowing him down further as he grabs his slashed and bleeding face. one of his eyes is blinded from the blood and glass.

this will probably be your only chance while he’s struggling to gather himself. you rush towards him with the knife handle tight in both of your hands and drive the blade into the middle of his chest, putting all your strength into that movement—just as his own knife impales your abdomen.

you are both simultaneously struck from the shock of being stabbed, and it takes you a few long moments to piece your mind back together as the pain radiates throughout your body. jungkook groans when you shift the knife around in his wound as you pull it out, letting his blood flow out freely. his breaths become wet and rattling as he chokes on his own blood, the red fluid staining his mouth and dripping down to his neck. he jams his knife further into your wound in retaliation so that the handle is flush against your body, causing your head to spin.

“i-if i die, i’m taking you w-with me.” jungkook gasps with his remaining effort. his body starts to sag from its standing position as he weakens, his hand slipping from the knife handle. he loosely grasps the comforter with one hand as he collapses to his knees, his torso becoming soaked with blood and his head bleeding from your earlier hits.

you drop your knife and lean against the bed too, shifting your body to find a position that could lessen the pain, but it’s impossible with a knife lodged in your abdomen. you know enough to understand that you’ll bleed out faster if you remove it, though, so you resist the urge. “you can rot in hell alone, jungkook.” you watch him struggle for what feels like minutes before his breaths stop altogether and his body slumps to the floor. he is just a blur of clothes and blood through your tears. you’ve never felt so lonely in your life.

you have a thought to call 911, but you’re becoming more and more lightheaded from the blood loss, and you can already hear sirens approaching on your street. you figure one of your neighbors must’ve called after hearing the gunshots; perhaps the bodyguard sent for backup before he was shot. your rescue has come much later than you would’ve preferred—or maybe everything just happened much faster than it seemed. you can’t tell anymore.

you can’t tell anymore, and you no longer want to look at the carnage around you, and nothing makes any sense. so, you close your eyes to it all; and when you feel someone lifting you in their arms—this sensation is so familiar—and maneuvering you onto a stretcher, you allow yourself to relent to it and empty your mind of everything.

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[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — second chapter | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | Coriolanus is his own warning, elitism

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Coriolanus Snow meets his tribute and lands on a cage and then a car ride with his girl <33

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 i never tasted orange chicken but since @nowitsmissing likes it, that means it's good and worthy for Coryo to eat

Series Masterlist | Navigation | previous chapter!

“I wouldn't sing a note for you if I were her!” - Coriolanus reminded himself of Tigris's words as he waited for the train to arrive. Besides a handful of peacekeepers, he was the only one standing in the train station, waiting for the tributes to come.

He wasn't going to lie to himself, he was terrified. He wasn't sure if he was breaking any rules as he stood and waited. The academy hadn't sanctioned this, but they didn't tell the mentors what to do or not to do either.

It's not his fault he's getting a headstart.

Though he was surprised that you weren't here, waiting. He glees internally. He had already one-upped you and was going to continue to do so.

Snow lands on top.

He was going to be five steps ahead of everyone. No one can take the Plinth Prize away from him and he's going to make this ‘Lucy Gray’ won't either.

If not a winner, she'll create a fine spectacle for the Capitol, with her snakes and voice. Even if some part of him was terrified of her, leave it to Dean Highbottom that he got an insane tribute.

And of course, leave it to Dean Highbottom that he gave you someone who has actual chances of winning. And of the same district too, as if trying to push them both into a battle with each other.

It was highly annoying. It felt like Dean Highbottom was mocking him with this. Dangling a carrot in front of him and expecting him to take the bait and snap. But he won't. You weren't going to win this, and Dean Highbottom won't be getting the satisfaction of the Snows' falling.

Finally, the train had arrived, and with it came his Lucy Gray Baird. She was a girl with a rainbow frilly dress and a mess of brown curls. She was pretty (not as much as you) and had a certain accent when she came to him, asking who he was.

“I am Coriolanus Snow,” he begins to introduce himself with a warm tone, “and I am your mentor.”

He holds a white rose in his hand, pushing his arm forward to offer it to her. A part of him watches in horror as she spews nonsense and tears a petal from the beautiful rose and eats it.

She eats it and smiles at him, “Tastes like bedtime.”

A part of him was horrified, his mind solidifying the fact that Lucy Gray was truly insane. But a part of his mind went back to yesterday when you had taken off a petal of the red rose.

When you had crushed it between your fingers, the red juices of the petal pigmented your fingertips. He wonders if he could take the digits in his mouth and clear your skin of the taint if it would taste delicious with the flavor of your skin. If it-

His thoughts were interrupted by Lucy Gray (damn her!). “What does a mentor do besides bringing me flowers?” Her voice calls him out.

He tried hard not to frown or snap at her. He controls his voice, depriving it of the annoyance he feels as he replies, “I try my best to help you win.”

She hums in response. And before he could continue the conversation, the peacekeepers came in to sweep the tributes into a truck. He tried to keep pace and asked for permission if it was alright to enter but was ignored. So when a distraction was caused by a tribute trying to run (foolish, foolish boy), he entered the truck.

He was being stared at by them all as if he was the animal, and not them. All of the tributes looked more or less filthy, sick, and District. It seemed like only Lucy Gray bothered to somewhat take care of her appearance, with her bizarre make-up and rainbow dress.

Soon enough, he was pinned by a black boy, named Reaper. Everyone around him yelling to kill him, cheering him on, goading him on. Lucy Gray decided to prove herself to be useful to Coriolanus. She was the one speaking up about how if he died, their families would be hurt and that she might need him.

Despite many protests and not being convinced to leave him alone, they couldn't do anything about especially when suddenly the truck gates swung open, and then bam!

Light sweeps in and everyone loses their balance. Falling onto bare, rough ground, landing onto a cage. Coriolanus barely managed to stand up before he realized where he was. A zoo, a fitting place for district animals but not for him. Not only that, he was surrounded by people and cameras.

With his luck, this was probably broadcast live. He felt panic rush in his veins, his mouth drying up and his hands getting sweaty. He was going to make a fool out of himself in front of all of Panem, Sejanus, and You.

No, wait, you were there. His wide, panicking eyes find yours. Just like him, you were in your academy uniform. But you were outside the cage and he was in it.

Never on the same side. You and he.

He could feel his body shaking, an anxiety attack beginning with his breaths becoming shorter and shorter. Just then he could see you form the words, ‘Own it. Own it, Coryo.’ He nods in reply, his mind quietening as he becomes focused on a task.

The Capitol wanted a show, he was going to give them one.

He snaps off the stem of the rose and places it on Lucy Gray's ear. He will never know how your eyes glared at him for that action. He takes her hand his, swallowing the disgust about the fact he was touching District.

“Lucy Gray, let me introduce you to my neighbors,” he said as he dragged her in front of the cameras. The girl had been smart so far, if she knew what was good for her, she would continue acting like that.

He goes near Flickerman, the guy with the microphone and you were standing there beside him. Your arms crossed in front of your chest, your eyebrows raised in an unimpressed way. He only shrugged in response before giving his attention to the cameras.

He lets Lucy Gray sweet talk to the camera. She was polite and playful, playing into the hearts of the Capitol citizens with ease. Then the cameras turn to him, and before Flickerman asks him why he is in the cage. He isn't sure what to answer.

As if you could sense his panic, you immediately take the attention of him with your reply. “That's Coryo for you. Always making an impression. You should look forward to him. And his tribute,” your eyes turn to look at Lucy Gray, a hint of poisonous hate in your look that was hidden by the fake warmth of your smile.

“And you should be looking forward to my tribute too, Jessup Diggs.” You added as you stole the show with your sweet words. The broadcast ended with Flickerman praising you for your encouraging words despite the fact you and Snow were rivals.

He grits his teeth as he is dragged into a car by the peacekeepers. He supposed he was going to be taken to the Academy. He sat in the back seat, waiting for the car to start. He wished he would go there before lunch began, he hadn't breakfast. He couldn't have those damn cabbages again, he would rather tie the shower curtain around his neck.

The car door opens and you slip inside, sitting beside him. His breath hitches as he takes in the scent of your perfume. The heat of your body sweeps into his as your arm brushes against him. “You're crazy,” you said, not looking at him but the ruins of the Capitol outside the window. The car had started to drive back to the Academy.

“For getting a headstart,” he replied, “it's not crazy if it's smart.”

“Smart,” you mock, you turn to him, your face twisted in anger. You spit out, “It's not smart if you die, Snow! Those animals could have done anything to you! During the ride! During the cage! Do you think the cameras or the people would have stopped them? Fuck no and for what? A headstart!? It was stupid.”

Coriolanus blinks as he sees your childish tantrum. He was sure it was because he was going to be the talk of Panem, and not because you had genuine concern for him. He doesn't reply anything to you, despite feeling offended that you called him stupid.

He had been caught off guard, but he wasn't stupid. He furrows his eyebrows but keeps quiet. The silence was heated, and awkward. But it continues to persist, that's until his stomach growls, reminding him of his uneaten cabbage soup.

He felt his body flush in embarrassment. He begins to think of excuses to explain the loud growl but before he can even think of anything, a box is handed to him. You had taken something out of your bag and just set it on his lap along with a plastic spoon.

“It's not poisoned,” was the only thing you said, your eyes now back at the window.

“I sure hope so,” he replied, his voice controlled and his mind glad that you didn't glance at him to see his red face.

He opens up the box to see rice and orange chicken. He devours it as manner fully as he can. It took him a lot of self-control not to moan with each bite. It was that good. Perhaps his mind was subconsciously biased because it was by you. He didn't linger much on that thought.

But his touch did linger when he handed you back the box. He didn't thank you and you didn't ask for one. Neither of you said a word as your fingers laced together with his.

Neither of you said a word when your hand squeezed his, tightly. A warning not to act stupid again.

Neither of you needed to.

Both of you reached the Academy and Coriolanus stepped out of the car.

Time to face the consequences of his actions.

Next Chapter

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[dustofthedailylife]

A Gift For You

→ Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Alhaitham, Cyno, Heizou x (gn!) Reader

Summary: They plan to give you something for White Day (Info: White Day is the counterpart to Valentine's Day where you usually get the person who got you something, something in return.)

Tags: Fluff, best friends to lovers, pining, mild cursing, very slight angst for Heizou and Cyno at first but also not really, they have good intentions haha!

A/N: This is my White Day gift for @feeblescholarmyass! I hope you like it :3

ALHAITHAM

Two knocks on the door of your office snapped you out of your work-induced haze. 

You’ve been working non-stop on this project for the Akademiya for months now and have only been allowing yourself breaks to eat or sleep. Well, to be fair, sleep was negligible too, seeing as you only got around three hours of it per night for a couple of weeks now. 

What didn’t help was that you just couldn’t get a hold of a super rare edition of a book that was practically essential for this paper. However, the physical copy was lost to the void of the library as it was never returned. And since the Akasha terminal no longer worked you also couldn’t fall back on that.

“Come in.” you answer, rubbing your eyes quickly in a futile attempt to make yourself look less tired. But deep down you knew there was nothing that could hide the deep purple eye bags you’d been carrying around like a designer accessory the past couple of weeks.

You continued to read through one of the many books on your desk as the door was opened quietly and you heard long strides approach your desk.

“Are you seriously still working on this?” a familiar voice asked reprimandingly.

You looked up into the face of Alhaitham who looked down at you in a less than amused and almost accusatory way. You genuinely didn’t have time for this now, as much as you would rather spend every free minute you had with him instead.

“Well yes, I am. Things have been going slower than I had planned and the deadline is breathing down my neck.” you sighed burying your head into the book you had been skimming through prior. “What did you want?”

“You are going to take a break.” Alhaitham remarks. This wasn’t a plea, he was leaving no room for protest. He snatched the book out of your hand and placed it on a table out of your reach.

“Hey! Alhaitham! You can’t do that. I need to finish this.”

“Yes, I can. And I will.” he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “When was the last time you ate?”

Well, damn. There was nothing you could hide from him, was there? He always saw right through you. Always had. One of the perks of being friends with a genius, you thought to yourself. And your silence following his question seemed to confirm his suspicions once again.

“Come on. Let’s go to the Tavern, I’ll treat you to lunch.”

You knew there was no point in resisting so you tagged along and unsurprisingly as always, he was right. Getting out of your cramped office and breathing in some fresh air was balm for your soul.

You sat down outside of the Tavern, both ordering a meal and talking about some recent research you both were interested in. Well, it was mostly just you ranting about your project and the sheer stress the lack of one certain book was causing you, but he listened to everything attentively. 

You once again came to realize what an incredibly calming effect talking to him had on you. Despite how fast your heart started drumming inside of your chest every single time without fail. You suspected that he likely would never be interested in you beyond the friendly relationship you had with him and you didn’t mean to destroy what you both had by laying your feelings for him bare. So you simply kept them locked within your heart and simply basked in his presence whenever you could.

“Oh, since we’re on the topic. I bought something the other day. This is for you.” Alhaitham suddenly pulled a book out of his bag and slid it across the table. You only had to glance at the cover briefly before you realized what it was and your eyes became as wide as saucers.

“Th-this is… the super rare copy of Ancient Nomad Language and Symbolism! How did you–?”

You were awestruck. You had no idea how he managed to get his hands on a copy. It was as if this book had vanished from the face of the earth. Aside from the fact that you could no longer buy it either or just for an extremely inflated price. How in the world did he get his hands on this?

“Let’s just say, I have my methods.” he replied with a hint of a smug smile painted across his lips.

“How much did you pay for this? I promise I’m going to pay it back–”

“No need.” he shook his head to deny your offer. “Consider it a gift.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much! You have no idea how happy this makes me.” you blurt out, almost brought to tears by this act of kindness. With this, your project was saved, and after so long you could finally see a light at the end of the tunnel.

“Well, in fact, I do. Considering that you didn’t shut up about this book for the better half of a month now and everyone you spoke to knew how much you wanted it.” he stated factually.

“Hey! No need to get all snarky with me now, when I just want to express my gratitude!” you chuckle and playfully roll your eyes, prompting him to smile smugly in a barely noticeable way once more.

“It was my pleasure. Besides, today is White Day, so it was only logical to get you something.” he remarks and he continued to drink his coffee entirely unbothered as if he didn’t just insinuate the most unbelievable thing you had ever heard. He surely misunderstood something here, right?

“Uhh–” you pause. “You know what this day is for right?”

“Naturally.”

You felt like your heart was about to jump right out of your chest any second. What did he mean naturally?! Was what you deemed impossible actually true and…

“Do you… like me?” you whisper, too scared and unable to speak any louder because it felt like all air had been knocked out of your lungs.

“Looks like you’ve finally caught on as well. I thought you’d never realize.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you think I repeatedly asked you out for lunch or dinner? Or why do you think I keep returning your books for you if you’re very capable of doing so yourself? Amongst other things.” he enumerated.

“Well yes, but that’s what friends do.” you retorted confusedly.

“Then let me spell it out for you.”

He put his cup down on the table and leaned forward. He stared deeply into your eyes before ushering three words you’ve always, deep down, longed to hear from his lips.

“I love you.”

CYNO

Three Matra ringing on your door at 10 in the morning was not what you had expected to see today, but here you were nonetheless. They had arrived just as you were about to head to the Akademiya for work but effectually canceled all plans you had made.

“Good morning?” you questioningly asked, raising an eyebrow at them. “Can I help you?”

“We would like to ask you to accompany us back to the Akademiya.”, they plainly stated, signaling you to follow them.

You quickly grabbed your keys and tracked behind them with unease pooling at the pit of your stomach and a violently beating heart. 

What could the Matra possibly want from you? Did you conduct some illegal research? Did someone turn you in for plagiarism to save their own skin? Or did it have something to do with academic funds? As far as you were aware, the answers to all of these questions were no.

You didn't commit any serious academic offense to your knowledge and never planned to do so in the first place. But being called in by the Matra always had something to do with that, so naturally, you had a very bad feeling about this and couldn’t help but desperately try to find the answer to it in your head before you’d arrive.

You knew your best and long-time friend Cyno, was the General Mahamatra but even he wouldn’t show mercy if you seriously screwed something up. You knew he didn’t take academic offenses lightly - it didn’t matter who it was who committed them. He dealt out punishment equally.

The way to the office seemed like it was taking forever and many people along the way to the Akademiya threw you pitiful glances and were whispering as you were escorted by the Matra.

Once you arrived at your destination you were led into the General Mahamatra’s office. The Matra who had escorted you were bowing their head down once before they left you and Cyno, who was standing behind his desk, alone.

“There you are!” he stated, sounding surprisingly cheerful. Well, at least compared to usual anyway. He certainly didn’t seem sinister or as if he was out for your head.

He walked around his desk and came to a halt just in front of you. You slightly twitched as he put one hand on your shoulder and looked right into your eyes. This entire situation was odd, to say the least.

What didn’t help was that the warmth that radiated off his hand on your shoulder was entirely distracting to you right now and made the blood rush to your cheeks and your heart skitter in your chest.

“U-uhhh…” you stammered, unsure what to say or do.

“Do you still remember the special animated Genius Invokation card of Tighnari you got me last month?”

What? Was something wrong with it?

“Uhm… yes, of course, I do.” you reply, uncertain as to where this was leading.

He nodded as his lips curved into a small smile. “Follow me.”

You trailed behind him out of the Akademiya and along the streets towards the outskirts of Sumeru city. You remained silent the entire way, intimidated and unsure about his intentions. You couldn’t help but wonder where he was taking you and whether he was intending to exercise his judgment where no one was able to bear witness to it.

He came to a halt next to a small, run-down house at the border of the city and leaned against the fence there, crossing his arms over his chest and gazing below himself. You cautiously came to a halt as well, making sure you maintained some distance from him.

“So… w-what did I do?” you carefully inquired.

“Well,” Cyno cleared his throat as if he was struggling to find the right words. He stepped a little closer to you once again, taking your slightly trembling hands in his. “You stole something.”

“What? I did n–”

“You stole my heart.” he interrupted both your words and ability to form clear thoughts.

You parted your lips with the intention to say something but every word seemed to have died in your throat. You knew he was one to often speak cryptically so you were uncertain about the true meaning behind his words.

“What?”

He took a deep breath as if he was preparing to say something impacting before pointing toward the fence he had been leaning on with a dead-serious face.

“I fence-y you!”

At this point, you couldn’t help but chuckle. The hilarity of this entire situation was unbelievable. Not only did he have you worried sick he also chose to confess to you after years of pining with some stupid pun.

“Did you seriously lead me here just because there is a fence here?”

“Curses. I feared you would not understand… see fence-y sounds like fancy which means I–”

You quickly pulled him in by his neck and pressed your lips softly against his, successfully stopping him from explaining his joke. The feeling of his lips on yours was something you had dreamed of for so long. When he slung his arms around your waist the endorphins rushing through your bloodstream made your head swim and you felt as if your heart was about to burst out of your chest. You wondered if he felt the same.

“That was supposed to be my gift to you,” he remarked with a smile, leaning his forehead against yours. “but you beat me to it.”

You playfully punched his chest with a chuckle. “Idiot. You have no idea how much you had me scared to death with this entire scheme of yours. I fence-y you, too”

“Allow me to make it up to you again. Do you like raisins?”

You questioningly raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what he was up to this time.

“No? How about a date, then?”

Someone seriously needed to remind you again why you fell for this guy.

HEIZOU

You were walking through the streets of Hanamizaka to run some errands when you bumped into your long-time friend aka. the best detective in town. Or maybe even in the entirety of Inazuma.

“Would you look who it is!” you perceived the familiar voice coming from your right.

You turned your head only to spot the familiar tuft of auburn locks and the pair of mischievous green eyes that always made their owner look like he was up to no good.

“Heizou!” you cheered, hugging him tightly.

“It’s a good thing I run into you actually. I’m onto something and you’re just the person who could help me out.” he remarked.

“Oh, is that so?” you asked stemming your hands on your hips proudly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Indeed.”

“So, what do you need from me, Mr. Detective?” you tease.

“Alright. So, as you may or may not know it’s White Day. I’m looking for a present for someone since I’m going on a date, and I want to get something for them.” he explained. 

You had to try your hardest to not drop your smile. It almost faltered just now, but you couldn’t let your disappointment show. He didn’t know you had feelings for him, so to him, you were still nothing more than his best friend. Obviously, he would come to you with something like this. It’s also on you for not telling him about your feelings for him, too.

As much as your heart ached while thinking about it, you simply had to try to be a supportive friend in this situation. Even if it would most likely prove to be a challenge. Both for your heart and also to hide your dislike about this from him, since he was generally very perceptive. It was in the job description after all and he was one of the best in his field.

“So what do you say?” he interrupted your train of thought. “Will you help me?”

“Sure!” you agree, faking a smile. 

You followed him through the streets of Inazuma City walking past several restaurants and storefronts continually catching yourself getting lost in your own thoughts while he was talking. 

Your mind was way too occupied with reproaching yourself for not opening up about your feelings. Would you still be able to look him in the eyes when you soon saw him with someone else by his side? Or would you be strong enough to still be as close to him as you are now, despite your aching heart? These were questions the future you would have to eventually find answers to, but for now, you decided you should focus on helping him.

“Which restaurant would be a good option for a dinner date?” he pondered tapping his chin with his index finger.

“Well, I do like Uyuu Restaurant just across the bridge from here. But then again, it tends to be rather crowded on holidays. So maybe Kiminami Restaurant instead? And quite honestly, the food is also better there in my opinion.” you advised.

“I see. Great!” Heizou cheered writing some things down in his notebook.

“So…” he began again after he was done taking notes. “Now for the present. I have no clue what to get them, yet.”

“Well, what a lousy detective you are if you can’t even sneakily ask them about what they would want.” you teased.

He raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms in front of his chest, acting playfully offended at your remark.

“Hey now! No need to get personal! Besides, that would only be the last resort! Anyway, hypothetically speaking. Imagine I’d get you something for White Day. What present would you want?”

For Archon’s sake, did he really have to have you imagine that? Getting a present from him on White Day would be a dream come true so he could practically get you anything and you would be head over heels for him all over again. But naturally, you couldn’t just outright say that.

“I don’t think this should be about what I would want. You should consider what they could want instead.”

“Hmm. I see your point. I could just ask them directly, I suppose?” he proposed tapping his chin as if deep in thought.

“No numbnuts! That’s not something you just ask them. It’s supposed to be a surprise, you know?”

“But then it may be even more important if you could give me an idea knowing what you would want. To gather some… inspiration, basically. I have to consider all possibilities after all.” he lightly bumped his finger on your forehead and smirked slyly. “So what would you want… jewelry? books? something to decorate your home with perhaps? Or maybe–”

“I fear I may not be of much help. I genuinely wouldn’t know what I would want.” you quickly interrupted.

Aside from wishing to be the object of affection of the man in front of you. But it was probably better if you buried that hope alongside your feelings for him once and for all.

What you were dying to say to him for a long time, had died in your throat the moment he told you he was going on a date. And as much as you honestly wanted to help him with this, you couldn’t recommend him something in good faith when it made your heart painfully throb the way it did right now.

“Hmmm.” he pondered looking at the ground with crossed arms. “That’s a shame, I’d immediately know what I’d want.”

“Oh? And what would that be, Detective?” you replied cheekily, quickly trying to distract yourself from the aching feeling in your chest.

“You.”

“What?” you falter.

“Do you happen to be free later?”

“Y-you–?”, you stammered.

“I set you up? Hmm, I suppose you could say I did. Sorry about that, but I had to find something out first.” he hummed, leaning in a little closer with a smug smile before whispering in your ear. “And I’m pretty sure I connected all the dots by now, did I not, sweetheart?”

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

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[fiction-is-life]

Congratulations on 500 non-bot followers! I just joined the ranks after reading the angstly little treat you did for @eleanor-bradstreet 🤩

I would like to request a blurb for Anthony from your prompt list. #8 - "Looks like we'll be trapped for a while."

This is so fun!

Trapped and Titillated

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for the follow, love, and for your kind words! I am so glad you liked Touchstone of Our Character!  I had so much fun writing this request; it is quite a bit longer than a blurb, but I hope that makes up for the fact it has taken me so long to write it!  Enjoy!

Summary: You are trapped with the Viscount.

Warnings: Angst, getting locked in a room, verbal fighting, steamy make out session, brotherly teasing

~

The door wouldn’t budge.  Oh, I knew when that latch clicked, I was doomed.  Utterly doomed.  And it was all his fault.

“Well, you have done it now, my lord,” I seethed, letting the veneer of polite reserve fall away.  It was always thin around him anyway.

Anthony Bridgerton had the audacity to raise one perfect, dark brow.  “I have done it?” he intoned, his voice cutting through my rising panic, reinforcing who I was angry at.

“Yes,” I hissed.  “You shut the door behind you, and now it is jammed.  It may be hours before someone comes by and finds us, and what then?”

He took a step towards me, matching the one I had subconsciously taken, bringing us closer than society would deem acceptable.  “As far as I am concerned, I have only done what was my right.  This is my library in my home, and I may shut any door I please.”

“Not when an unmarried young lady is in said library - unaccompanied.  Or have you forgotten the rules of the Ton while you were busy raking about the kingdom?” I knew I had struck my mark when I saw the Viscount’s eyes darken, his whole body tensing.

“Miss (Y/L/N), you do not know of what you speak,” he said through clenched teeth, and I shivered from the ice in his tone.  Anthony certainly did not miss it.  “I was raised a gentleman, Miss (Y/L/N), as a member of one of the most respected families in all of England, no less.”  

I scoffed and raised my chin and matched his stance.  We were practically nose-to-nose with each other.  “Well, there must be an exception to every rule, my lord, and I suppose you are it.”

I wanted to take the words back as soon as I said them, terrified at the way his features turned from red-hot anger to a cold, stony silence.  I took a shaky breath.  “M-my lord, I apologize.  I believe I am overwrought from the events of today.  Please forgive me,” I spoke in a rush, not daring to make eye contact with those dark depths again.

A long moment passed before he cleared his throat, his complexion returned to a more normal hue but his posture still stiff.  “It looks like we'll be trapped for a while, Miss (Y/L/N).  We may as well make ourselves comfortable," he spoke in a clipped, quiet tone.  For some odd reason, I wished he would have yelled instead.

He must have noticed the look of panicked confusion on my face as I alternated between staring at him and the couches near the fire.  “Do not fear, Miss (Y/L/N), I shall strive to reign in my more ungentlemanly urges.  Your virtue is safe from me.”

I bit my lip, nodding at his words.  They were what I wanted to hear.  Right?  Oh, dash it!  I had never been prone to hysterics before, but something about being this close to the Viscount was making my thoughts and feelings a muddle.  So, I did the only thing that felt safe.

I pretended to read.

I believed it was working, too.  That is, until the Viscount cleared his throat again.  I wanted to roll my eyes at the realization that the smallest of his gestures still commanded attention.  I was looked over during a one-on-one conversation, but Lord Anthony Bridgerton could simply breathe in a certain way and every head would turn.

“Is there something you need, my lord?”  I asked, my eyes still blindly trained on the pages in front of me so that I missed his growing smirk.

“You must be a great reader, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said.

I raised one perfectly arched eyebrow.  “Yes, I do love a good book,” I returned, turning the page.

“You are most certainly a more avid reader than I.”

That made me look up at him, confusion wrinkling my brow.  “Why do you say that, my lord?” 

He openly smiled now, allowing me to see that little dimple in his one cheek.  “I have never mastered the art of reading words that are upside-down.”

“What?”  I looked down and finally saw what book I had picked up.  It was a tome on new farming practices, and it was indeed upside down.  

Well, I could not let him win that easily.  “I find I absorb the words much better when it is more difficult to read them.”  I looked down my nose as I had seen many women do.  “I believe it is important to challenge oneself, so one does not become ignorant and vain.”

His features twisted into a wry grin.  “Very true, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said in a tight voice.  He crossed over to the sofa I was sitting on and sat down - far too close for comfort.  “What are other pursuits that you find are challenging enough, may I ask?”

I knew he was goading me, but I simply could not back down from his challenge.  “Any activities I find rewarding, I suppose.”  I closed the book and tilted my head, staring him in the eye.  “Making sound investments, helping run the household, volunteering for charities,” I listed, not even trying to mask the smugness in my tone.  “Basically anything that contributes to society, unlike spending every night at gaming hells or with ladies of the night or -”

His lips crashed onto mine, cutting me off.  I felt positively surrounded by him as he crushed me into the back of the sofa, his strong arms encircling my waist and pulling me into him.  He smelled of bay rum and mint, and it was utterly intoxicating.  

At first, I was too shocked to react, but as his lips moved insistently on my own, I started to follow his lead.  He growled when I parted my lips, and my eyes shot open when he darted his tongue into my mouth, but it felt too good to pull away.  So, I pulled him closer.

My hands tangled in his dark locks, and when my fingers caught on a knot, Anthony pulled back slightly, moaning.  I gasped and pulled back.  “Did I hurt you, my lord?” I asked, concerned.

He groaned again, his eyes darkening further.  “Call me that again,” he growled, panting heavily.

My face twisted in confusion.  “My lord?”

“Yes,” he breathed, his lips finding mine again.  His hands wandered this time, sending pings of pleasure straight to my core.  I couldn’t hold back my own noises when his strong hands found my breasts, my nipples pebbling embarrassingly.  

I lost track of time as Anthony peppered wet kisses down my neck and over the swells of my breasts where my dress did not cover them.  He started to work his hand under the skirt of my dress when a crash was heard on the other side of the library.  

“Brother! Are you in here?  I need to get away from all of the matchmaking endeavours mother has concocted,” the voice of Anthony’s brother, Benedict, was heard.  Anthony’s head snapped up, a panicked look in his eyes.  

“Stay here.  I shall get rid of him,” Anthony whispered before rising from the sofa, straightening his jacket where I had mussed it.  “Brother.  You find me at an inopportune time.  I was just leaving,” he called out to his brother, trying to prevent him from seeing me.

“Why?  You already met with the steward this morning.  You have nothing else planned until dinner.”  Even I could hear the skepticism in Benedict’s voice as it grew closer.  

“Well, yes, but I thought I might go for a ride,” Anthony hedged.

“Wonderful!  I shall join you!”

“No!” Anthony shouted.  “I mean, I was wishing to ride out alone this time,” he finished in a more tempered tone.  

There was a long pause where I thought Benedict just may have believed the lie.  “Are you sure you want to be alone?  Because I think Miss (Y/L/N) might disagree.”  I gasped.  “I shall see you at dinner, brother, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said, a door closing behind him shortly after.  

I sat up with a huff, my cheeks flaming a brighter red than they had been before.  “I am sorry; I did not think anyone would follow me here -”

“What door did he come through?” I interrupted what was sure to be a very eloquent apology.

Now, the Viscount’s cheeks turned red and he scratched the back of his neck nervously.  “Well, um, he used the hidden entrance in the south wall.”

“Oh, you cad!” I screamed.  “Open it.  Now, my lord.”

Anthony silently moved toward the south wall, pulling a certain book back to reveal a hidden door.  I gathered my dignity about me as I fixed my skirts.  I caught a whiff of his cologne once more as I passed him, and for a brief moment, I wanted to turn back.  Instead, I held my head high, giving the Viscount one of those superior looks other ladies had mastered.  I wanted him to know I was not to be trifled with.

But I knew this was not the end of my encounters with the Viscount.

~

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