#I think ash blonde is the way to go for him

[promisingyounglady]

accident. | JP x Reader

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Wife!Reader

SYNOPSIS: we all make accidents. javier forgetting to pick you up at the train station was an accident. you forgetting to bring an umbrella was an accident. throwing a knife at your husband? you’re going to have prove that one was an accident to him.

WC: 3.6k

WARNINGS: SMUT, angst, mentions of weapons and knives, reader throws a knife at javier *just read you’ll find out*, implied age gap, established relationship, javier is a bit older than reader, domestic au, slight dom!javi, mentions of food and cooking, profanity, bratty!reader, reader is mean but javier can be meaner, floor sex, creampie, unprotected sex, spanking, handcuffs, cum eating, brief oral (f recieving), slight non-con, rough sex, praise, degradation, post-sex sweetness, not proofread.

AUTHORS NOTE: obsessed and mentally ill. so here’s slightly dom!javi with a ton of angst

A headache ensues in Javier’s mind.

He tries to combat it with the clouds of smoke rising through the air, the comfortable scent of tobacco and cigarettes filling his nose as he takes a drag from the stick perched in between his blistered fingers, this inhale, longer than the last.

Today had been shit. It really had. All day he had been cooped up in the office with stacks of paperwork almost taller than himself, tossed onto him and Murphy's desk by the higher ups, a high demand for deadlines with their patience being low.

Javier had been sitting in his office for almost seven hours straight, looking at papers with tiny writing and filing reports with pen until sensitive pink blisters formed around a hand that should’ve been driving and carrying a gun today, out in the field on a mission another team had instead been tasked with.

He’s getting old for this stuff, and he knows its true when he feels a strain in his back from shifting in his seat.

Maybe that’s why they shoved the paperwork in the old man’s hands.

Javier leans forward, grabbing his almost empty pack of cigarettes from his desk, deciding a fourth one was necessary for tonight.

“Javier,” a voice calls for him, looking up when he sees the new secretary holding the phone facing her chest. “You’ve got a call”

“From who” he says gruffly, brows furrowed. He lights the cigarette with his lighter, tossing it onto his desk and taking another puff.

“It’s your wife,” The secretary states. “she’s asking what you want for dinner.”

Javier stops in the middle of flicking the ashes, letting the cigarette sit warm in his fingers when he turns his head so he could see her correctly.

Your sweet voice calls out through the receiver, a chill running down Javier's spine when he makes out that it really is you.

“Yeah, Sherry, it’s fine if he’s busy, just let him know I called. Tell him dinner’ll be late tonight, at around 10.” you piped up sweetly, saying goodbye to your husband's secretary before hanging up the call.

She leaves after telling him what he already heard, but Javier is quick to immediately put out the burning cigarette and quickly grab his coat, making his way out the office.

“Peña, Where are you going? We only got a few more stacks left” Murphy calls out, hair in a mess from the many stressful tugs and his own cigarette nestled in between his fingers.

“my wife.” Javier replies, suddenly not liking the bitter taste in his mouth.

“It’s raining outside, you’re gonna get drenched” the blonde tells him, shaking his head as he took a drag from his own cancer stick.

Javier stops in his tracks, looking outside the window to see his partner was right. It was pouring out there, hardly able to even make out the cars in the parking lot.

Him getting wet was the least of his worries. It was you, he was thinking of.

“Fucking hell.”

_

You set the receiver down on the living room table. The ticking of the clock resonating in the silent house before a sigh finally escaping your lips.

Droplets of rain water cloud your vision, cheeks pink from the cold as water dripped onto your wooden floorboards.

Fists clench and unclench around the handle of the umbrella given to you by an old lady at the train station.

“A girl like yourself shouldn’t be alone in the rain, mija” she insisted, letting you take her frilly umbrella as her son would pick her up shortly.

Javier was supposed to pick you up too.

But after forty minutes of standing out in the rainy weather under a flimsy roof as you waited for his truck to pick you up, you disappointedly caught a taxi and drove home by yourself

You were returning from your visit to your sick grandmother. You were her only granddaughter who she called the week prior, telling you how she missed you and wanted you to visit.

Javier insisted you went, not wanting to hold you back and assured he would come to pick you up at the station after the weekend spent with her.

What a fucking liar, you thought to yourself.

You quickly undressed your wet clothes, the outcome of having to have walked in rain to find an available taxi this evening.

You're curious to see the look on Javier’s face when you make him beg on his knees and ask for forgiveness. Maybe you wouldn’t even kiss him tonight, thinking in silence as you prepared for dinner.

You definitely weren’t trying to think about what an excellent opportunity this was to be a brat.

—

Javier parks into his quiet drive way exactly thirty minutes before 10. That’s thirty minutes of trying to get on your good graces and pray that he wouldn’t be sleeping outside tonight.

When he opens the door to the house, his heart beats fast. Prepared to see you ready to lash out at him, he’s instead surprised with the aromas of spices and your homemade cooking wafting to his nose, unconsciously realizing that he skipped lunch today from how caught up he was with work.

Picking up your wet jacket from the floor, Javier slots his keys and sunglasses in the bowl by the entrance, hanging his own jacket as well before he makes his way quietly to the glowing kitchen.

The stovepot is on a low boil, and he sees you in a long t-shirt, one that you made sure wasn’t his. Your hair is damp, probably from a shower as you swiftly work your hands away in prepping the vegetables.

Javier mumbles quietly in a gruff voice. “You, uh, left your coat on the floor.”

Thwack.

An aggressive chop at the carrots replaces your words, each cut piercing louder like a gunshot ringing in his ears.

“Hermosa, I am so sorry.“ Javier begins sighing because he knows he fucked up real bad this time.

Thwack. You moved onto the chicken meat.

“There’s no excuse baby, I wasn’t keeping track after being cooped up in the office today.” he sighs, brows furrowing as big brown eyes stared into your back.

Thwack. Thwack.

The DEA agent flinches at the sound of the raw chicken being butchered by your swift, angry hands. You’re not facing Javier directly and yet he can already see your glaring eyes. He sighs, not wanting to fight you. He tries to lighten the mood, voice soft as he comments.

“Qué te ha hecho ese pobre pollo”

You don’t reply, let alone acknowledge your husband, continuing to brutally dice the chicken on the cutting board before turning around to wash your hands.

Javier watches you swiftly work in your kitchen, feeling sorry as he still watches you prepare dinner for the two of you after such a long train ride.

He moves forward, rolling his sleeves as he tries to help you . “Querida, I’ll help with the pot-”

The clang of the knife hitting the cutting board echoes in the kitchen, finally looking up to face your husband. Javier leans back, resting against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and gun holsters unremoved after coming home.

You try to ignore how tired he genuinely looks, reminding yourself you were just the same when standing all alone for that one hour.

“Y’know what Javier?” You begin, eyes watering and nose twitching in anger. Javier stays silent, staring at you with sincerity.

“Fuck you” you spit, pointing an accusing finger at the man. “fuck you and your fucking DEA work, Javier”

“Mi-”

“I had to wait forty minutes outside in rainy weather, trying to see if every car passing by would be yours.” you said, voice breaking towards the end. You felt uncomfortable waiting by yourself.

Javier shuts his eyes, forehead wrinkling as he tries to calm you down. He draws your name out in a firm but gentle tone.

You ignore him, replacing his words with your attitude. “You always do this!” you exclaim, voice rising.

“Leaving your wife and family second while you think it’s cool to go and chase criminals while risking your goddamn life.” You mutter, glaring at your husband.

“I didn’t want to leave you at the station all alone, honey. I’ve been sitting at my desk since afternoon drowning in paperwork the higher-ups dumped on us” he presses, eyes sincere but patience wearing thin.

You scoff, shaking your head. “So even stupid paperwork makes you forget your wife.”

Javier pinches his nose bridge, his head pounding as he tries to communicate with you.

You go back to cutting your vegetables, mumbling under your breath. “Who the fuck in Bogotá is giving you credit for slaving away all day trying to catch Escobar, hm?”

The words pierce through Javier’s heart.

Your eyes light up in fake sarcasm. “Oh, I bet it’s the fact that you’re too busy being a fucking doormat to all the younger agents at work aren’t you? What, Murphy said he can’t do his share of the work so he gave you his leftovers?” You spit.

“Hey," Javier snapped, gruffly and darkly. He looked at you, eyes narrowed and dark. "Stop it. I've told you."

Anger gets the best of you as you turn to the cutting board. Grabbing the first thing you saw.

A carrot piece shoots in his way. Javier flinches, the food hitting his chest. Your husband stands there, stunned at his wife’s childish behavior.

“Go fuck yourself, Peña” you say menacingly.

“We don’t throw food in this house, mama” he barks, hands on the hips of his belt, gun and badge tucked in his back. He would never use them on you.

A celery stick slaps Javier in the face this time, making his patience hanging on by a thread even thinner.

Maybe he could whip out the handcuffs.

“Dont you fucking call me that!” you said spitefully, throwing anything and everything you could at the man who dodged your attacks.

“Querida!” Javier raises his voice at you, a growl in his words.

You felt the cold, hard material in your hands for a split second before you’re throwing it at him, almost wondering yourself why you were getting so angry at Javier.

You didn’t want to fight this bad, but at the same time you were sick of watching him work himself to death, forgetting about you. This wasn’t the first time he did something like this.

But you already crossed that line. You both stand in silence, holding your breath as you realized what you threw.

Now it was your turn to fuck things up.

Javier’s lip snarls and his mustache is in a scary frown when he shifts his head.

Only a few inches beside his face lands a dull potato knife, wedged in the kitchen cupboards above. It wouldn’t have worked on anything since it was unsharpened and unused, but the tremendous force you had thrown it with allowed it to have been lodged in the wood.

You gasp, hands flying to cover your mouth.

You both watch Javier slowly raise his hand, pulling the knife inches beside his head with ease before tossing it into the sink. The clatter of the metal blade hitting the sink rings in the kitchen. A swarm of guilt fills your chest as you stand still in fear.

“Javi… I-I’m so sorry” you say, heart beating against your chest, cautiously awaiting a reaction from him.

Javier dusts off the carrot peels on his shoulder, watching as his jaw tenses but shoulders relax.

“Come here.” he all but says quietly. You see Javier reaching for his back pocket, taking out his gun and badge and placing it on the counter.

That wasn’t what scared you.

What scared you was then seeing Javier pull out the silver handcuffs lodged in his back pocket. Your eyes widened at the sight of him playing around with them.

“Javi, I’ll go get the-“

“Come. Here.” Javier cuts you off, staring at you with dark eyes.

You swiftly shake your head, refusing to go. “It was an accident!” You exclaimed, dashing out the kitchen as you tried to escape Javier who was hot on your heels.

“Honey.” he says in a not so endearing way, a warning edge to his voice.

Tears littered your cheeks, knowing that you pushed Javier’s limits and that he would really punish you for how bratty you had been tonight.

You gasp, running up the stairs before strong arms encaged your frame, desperately trying to escape before shrieking in surprise as Javier hoisted you over his shoulder, a loud and painful smack being brought down to your ass by his strong hands. You grimaced, helplessly being brought to the kitchen in swift strides.

”It was an accident, I’m sorry, I was just so angry!” You wailed, groaning as your back hit the carpeted floors of your living room. Your vision was hazy, the dizziness getting to you as you saw Javier leave the room into the kitchen, and come back a few moments later. This time, he was unbuttoning his shirt, his forest of chest hair and strong muscles peeking through.

Javier took a deep breath, eying the way your t-shirt had hiked all the way up so your panties were showing. Your hair spread around your head like a halo, and he noticed how you clenched your thighs together in vulnerability.

“Some accidents need to be punished, baby” he muttered darkly.

You sobbed softly, nose red as you turned your head to the side, looking away from Javi’s menacing look. He didn’t mind, he knew once he was done messing with you, you would be clawing at his chest, begging him to fuck you properly while looking into his eyes. Javier leans down at your level, crawling on your body so he was on top and you were trapped on the bottom. He rips your t-shirt off of you, leaving you in your bare state with panties flimsy enough he could rip them with his teeth. Not today though, he had other things in mind.

He coos at your weak state, dropping his head so he could press a kiss to your sensitive neck, giving a small nip that made you yelp. Two large hands come to play with your nipples, pulling each one hard in between his fingers as you moaned hysterically.

“What did I say about being fucking mean?” He says roughly. He inhales your scent, smelling a sweet sense of fear.

“Carino,” a warm voice calls out, you can feel the grin spreading on Javier’s face. You cry in a mix of pain and pleasure when he flips you on your tummy, cheek pressing against the rough carpet material as Javier slots his hard member encased in his jeans, right by the curve of your ass.

“Answer me, mama”

A clinking of metal makes you cry out in protest. No, you wanted to say, feeling Javier cuff you behind your back like you were one of his petty drug thiefs. But a slap to your ass cheek makes you gasp, eyes shutting as Javier pulls your panties off.

”Being mean gets me punished” you responded softly, a pool of desire aching in your folds as you almost tutted your ass up to show him you were ready. ���I’m sorry, Javier” you sniffled quietly, hoping he would hear.

Javier laughs, cocking his head to the side as one hand groped the flesh of your bum, and the other undid his belt buckle. The sound makes your mouth water, wondering if he’ll let you suck him off too for forgiveness.

“So you do know how to be nice?” He groans, giving you no time before his hard members penetrates your entrance, head turning back and eyes rolling when you clenched around his dick so well. “Javier!” You screamed, eyes rolling back in pleasure from the strong stretch.

Your arms ached, desperate for release so you could brace yourself against the floor for every hard thrust your husband would give you.

“Listen carefully, querida” he moans into your ear, humping you as you moaned loudly. “You’re gonna be a good girl and let me fill you up, alright?” When there was no answer, he slapped your cheek again, this time echoing throughout the living room and leaving a red splotch on your ass. “Answer me.” He growled, patience growing thin from your pathetic wailing.

You grit your teeth, hating the fact that you were supposed to be mad at Javier for forgetting about you, and yet here you were receiving back shots with a stinging red ass.

”Yes, Javier” you said back, feeling his girth stretch your walls.

”Good. And once I’m done fucking my pretty wife, you’re gonna suck me off like you mean it. That sounds good mi amor?”

You nodded in return, eyes shut and panting like a slut from the feeling of Javier slowing down his thrusts, deepening every stroke.

“Yes, Javier” you repeated.

He smiled, kissing your neck sweetly, contrasting his hip movements. “Thank you, mama” he replied, cherishing your sweet moans and gasps as he went at a deeper, harder pace.

It’s delirious, the whole situation. You feel as though you’re on cloud nine with the way Javier is so possessive of you, caging you like a butterfly in his garden with the apple of desire.

You felt sinful. You felt glorious. You needed his release to fill you up so badly.

“Javi…” you muttered, tits starting to get carpet burn from being fucked against the ground.

“I know mama, you’re doing so good for me. Taking your lesson so well” he groans, sweat beading at his forehead.

You were aching and begging for orgasm, but feeling Javier rut into you so passionately made it all worth it. It dissolved any anger, any resentment from earlier because you knew how good he could take care of you.

“You’re so fucking mean sometimes, you know that?” he tells you, brows furrowed and concentrated on fucking the daylights out of you. You could feel the handprints marking your hips, wondering how many of Javier’s marks would be on you tomorrow morning.

“I know” you sigh, feeling a slap come down on your ass as you groan louder.

“You’re so fucking stubborn sometimes, you know that too?” you pant, squirming under your cuffs. Javier shudders, your walls sucking him a little too well.

“I know.” He says back gruffly.

Javier feels the knot untying in his stomach, too late to tell you verbally as you felt his warm seed leak inside, cumming first.

“Merida”

You were also close, loving how despite already coming, Javier was fucking you so that you could cum too.

”I’m gonna” you pant, forgetting to finish your words as you felt hot liquid threatening to spill from every stroke he made in your hole.

Javier whispers, pressing ticklish kisses from his mustache to your bare shoulder. “Cum on my cock, baby, you know what to do” he muttered, both of you groaning loudly as both your releases became mixed inside you.

“Oh fuck, Javi!” you scream, hair a mess and pussy aching.

You feel dizzy, used but happy, shivering as a large sludge of your cum spills out and drips down your thigh to the carpet.

Javier is quick to lap you up with his tongue, slotting his face in your ass as he filthily cleans you up.

“Can you get these off me, please?” you ask him meekly, relishing the feeling of your sensitive wrists when they touch the cool air.

Your husband presses a kiss to each one, marking your ass and shoulders with playful hickeys and bruises.

You both catch your breath for a moment, Javier turning you over so you were facing the ceiling, your sensitive tits perking up.

It’s all so sudden but before you two realize it, you’re latching onto each other immediately, hungrily sharing a kiss as your arms wrap around his neck.

“Hermosa,” he tries to begin, before being shushed by you, pulling him back in to lovingly kiss your husband.

Sure, rough sex was great, but god did you love just kissing Javier absentmindedly. You had to touch each other, kiss each other, that was how you two made up.

“Lo siento, hermosa” he sighs, wanting to get lost in your embrace. You smile, knowing that Javier is sincere. “Me too.” You reply, voices hushed as it was now later in the night, the neighbors probably aware of what had happened next door. A moment passes.

“Didn’t you say you wanted me to suck you off?” you asked innocently, gazing up at Javier as your head rested on his chest.

He grins, softly whispering a later as he played with your hair, cock soft against his thigh as your leg nudges it playfully.

He growls, nipping your ear. “Behave” he says firmly, cheeks rosy. This time you listen.

“Who picked you up today then if I didn’t come?” Javi asks, reaching over to wrap a blanket around you two near the fireplace.

You smile, knowing that you can’t always listen to Javier’s warnings. “Just some cute young taxi driver. Asked me for my number y’know” you grinned.

Javier looks down, eyes darkening as he mutters softly. “Unless you’re gonna be a brat again, you better watch yourself” he reaches for your mound, cupping you softly so you moan in pleasure, still sensitive from the previous activities. He hoists you above his stomach, feeling your nails scratch his pudge and bend down as you give him a kiss. “I’m just messing with you” you giggle, a familiar feeling coming back when his bare cock is nestled by your thighs. “He was old. A grandpapi” you said, feeling his hands roam the flesh of your ass.

You press a hand against Javier’s chest, giggling as you peck his jawline. He rolls his eyes, hands wrapping around your waist instinctively.

“I missed you.” he mutters, feeling you up.

You smile, remembering how warm it is on top of your husband before you shut your eyes softly.“Me too.”

You look up, apologizing to him. “Sorry for almost stabbing you with that knife”

You feel the vibrations and sounds of a loud chuckle, Javier holding on to you. “It was an accident” you mumble, circling shapes on his skin. He knows.

You make up for it by leaning in, pressing kisses under the shell of his ear. Whispering how you’ll let him stuff his cock in your mouth again to get even.

Fuck it, he thinks. He’d let you kill him anyday.

#fic: accident #javier pena fluff #javier pena x you #javier pena one shot #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena imagine #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier pena angst #javier pena x y/n #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #narcos smut #narcos #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal angst #divider credit: unknown pls dm #did I die and come back to life writing this? take a wild guess

[maysileeewrites]

18+ content; mdni!

Thinking about husband!Coriolanus barely being able to contain the anger and jealousy coursing through him when he sees you flirting with another man during an evening gala in the Capitol.  

You’re laughing, your whole face lighting up, your hand touching the other man’s shoulder and Coriolanus is surprised that he hasn’t broken the champagne flute in his hand, seeing how his grip on the fragile glass is so tight. 

Oh, the things he’ll do later, to punish you. You on your knees in front of him, his hands fisted in your hair, your eyes filled with tears and him fucking your mouth relentlessly- 

Suddenly, he sees the other man lean in closer towards you, placing one hand on your arm. 

Coriolanus has had enough. He carelessly places the champagne flute on a table, before walking over to you, settling his hands on your waist, his grip on you so tight that he knows it’ll leave brusises. 

Good, he thinks, smirking to himself. It will leave a reminder for you - a reminder of who you truly belong to. 

“There you are, darling”, he says, forcing a smile onto his face, before placing a deliberate kiss on your neck - a place he’d normally suck and bruise, just to drive you crazy, leaving pretty purple marks. 

He smiles when he can feel you shivering, pressing himself even closer to you. 

“I’ve been looking all over for you, darling”, he says, completely ignoring the other man staring at you both with a confused expression. 

You gasp when Coriolanus suddenly leans forward, his lips brushing over your skin, before whispering in your ear: “I told you what would happen if I’d see you flirting with another man. Now behave and be a good girl.”

You turn your head so that you’re looking right at the fire in his blue eyes, your lips so close to his that they nearly touch. 

“Or what … are you going to punish me, President Snow?”, you whisper, placing a delicate, chaste kiss on his lips. 

You feel his grip on your waist tightening even more, his fingers digging painfully into your skin. You see him biting down hard on his lips, probably trying to hold back a groan. 

You smile, satisfied, when his eyes find yours again. Two can play this game, you think, reaching up to push a stray blond curl from his forehead. 

But then you shiver when you see Coriolanus smile back at you - a promise. A threat. 

“I’m sorry”, he tells the handsome man - his name already forgotten to you, you think it’s somewhere along the lines of Alexander or Adrian - you’re pretty sure it started with an A; though you’re not entirely sure, but you also don’t really care -. „But my wife and I need a moment.” 

Then, he walks away, guiding you along with him. 

The next thing you know, you’re being pushed into an empty bathroom, your back hitting the door, Coriolanus’s mouth already on yours, his hand already finding its way under the skirt of your dress before the door has even closed properly behind you. 

He groans, breaking the kiss and burying his head in the crook of your neck when his fingers brush over the thin fabric of your panties, already soaked through with your arousal. You can’t help but shiver when his hand cups your cunt, his other hand settling on your waist with a bruising, harsh grip. 

„Look at you“, he says, his voice rough and coarse, barely more than a strained whisper, „already dripping down my fingers, even though I barely touched you - or is that all for him?“ 

His left hand moves up from your waist to your face then, forcefully cupping your cheek and forcing you to look at him. „Tell me“, he demands, his blues finding yours - a fire in them that will burn you down until you’re nothing more than a withering pile of ashes. 

But then, you’ve always liked playing with fire, living for the thrill of it. 

Still, you quickly shake your head, trying to reach for Coriolanus with one hand, but Coriolanus moves faster than you, his hand leaving your cheek, seizing your hands in his and pinning them in place above your head. 

„No - Coryo - I“, you try to say, but then he’s roughly yanking down your panties - you think you hear the thin material tear - forcefully pushing two fingers inside you. 

You gasp, clenching around him, and Coriolanus groans. 

„Fuck, Coryo - I - I don’t even know him - I - fuck“, you stumble, trying to form a coherent sentence while Coriolanus pumps his fingers in and out of at an unrelenting pace, his blue eyes never leaving yours. „I - he just came up to me and started talking to me and I-“, the rest of your words gets swallowed by the loud, whiny moan that leaves you when Coriolanus adds a third finger, pushing his hips against yours. 

Your back aches from how hard and uncomfortably its pressed against the door, but you don’t care - the only thing you care about is Coriolanus, his hungry, desperate eyes on you, his fingers inside you, you clenching desperately around them. 

„What’s his name?“, Coriolanus suddenly asks, before lowering his mouth to your neck, his lips immediately finding that spot that drives you crazy when he starts sucking on the soft, sensitive skin with his lips. 

„I - I don’t remember - fuck“, you cry, when Coriolanus curls his fingers inside you, hitting that spot inside you that has you seeing stars perfectly.  

Coriolanus leaves another bruising kiss on your skin, before coming up again - his smirk telling you that he’s going to wreck you. „Good - because I’m going to fuck every memory of him out of you“, he promises. 

Suddenly, his fingers leave you and you whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness inside you, your walls clenching down around nothing, but then both his hands settle on your waist, turning you around until your front hits the bathroom door. His hands leave you for a moment and you can hear the rustling of fabric. 

Then, suddenly, the skirt of your dress is pushed to the side and Coriolanus lines himself up behind you, his erection straining against your back. 

„I’m going to fuck you - and after I’m finished with you, the only name you’ll remember is mine; the only name you’ll be screaming is mine - everyone in here, including that nobody will know that you belong to me“, he promises, before entering you in a rough, powerful thrust. 

„Fuck“, you breathe, throwing your head back. 

His cock is so big, the stretch almost painful, but unlike normally, he doesn’t give you any time to adjust to the stretch - pulling completely out of you, before slamming back into you with a harsh, almost painful thrust, his hands gripping your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh. 

His pace is unrelenting, his thrusts into you rough, and fast, and bruising. 

You whimper, your hands pressed against the door. „I - fuck, Coryo - ’s too much, fuck!“

Another painful, unrelenting thrust, but one of his hands suddenly leave your waist, moving to your clit, his fingers drawing teasing circles over the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves. 

„That’s it, good girl“, Coriolanus praises, when he can feel you start clenching around him again. 

You’re a quivering, panting mess, the lines between pain and pleasure so blurred you don’t know where one starts and the other ends. 

Coriolanus’s harsh thrusts don’t let up. The only sounds filling the bathroom are his loud groans, your whiny whimpers and the sound of skin slapping against skin. 

„What’s his name?“, Coriolanus suddenly asks you again, at the same moment his cock hits that sweet spot inside you again, his fingers still circling your clit. 

„I don’t - fuck, Coryo!“, you pant, the pressure inside you building and building and building with every one of Coriolanus’s powerful thrusts. 

„What’s his name?“, Coriolanus repeats, his hand on your waist suddenly moving up to your neck and squeezing - applying just the right amount of pressure to make you feel perfectly dizzy. 

„I don’t - I don’t remember - yes, Coryo, right there!“, you pant, when his cock starts hitting that spot inside you again and again, his fingers still stimulating your clit. 

„That’s right“, Coriolanus says, his voice rough and coarse, „you belong to me.“

„Yes“, you pant, trying desperately to move your hips to meet his movements - you’re so close and you just want to feel that sweet, dizzying release. 

„Yes, Coryo, I - you - I’m your’s.“ 

„Again“, he demands, his thrusts becoming even more rapid, his fingers still circling your clit. You know immediately what he means, what he wants from you. 

„Coryo - I - I’m yours“, you pant, clenching around him. 

His lips find the soft, sensitive skin of your neck then, leaving a bruising kiss. „Good girl.“ 

It’s all too much for you, then - Coriolanus inside you, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot, his fingers circling your clit, his hand on your throat, his lips on your neck, his words that make your head spin. 

Your back arches, and you come with Coriolanus’s name on your lips, your cry so loud that you’re pretty sure that everyone that’s still gathered in the hall outside is able to hear it. 

But you don’t care, because all you can think about is Coriolanus. 

„Fuck“, he groans when he feels your walls squeezing him. 

His grip on you tightens, and suddenly, he bites down on the soft skin of your neck. He thrusts into you again, and once more, making you whimper, and then he’s coming as well, his hot cum shooting into you. 

„Fuck, Coryo“, you whimper, the added sensation too much for you. 

For a moment, Coriolanus’s heavy breathing is your only answer. You stay like that for a moment - pressed against the door, him still inside you. 

Then, Coriolanus presses a soft kiss to your throat. „Good girl“, he praises again, pulling out of you, his hand leaving your neck. „But I think you still need a reminder of who you belong to“, he adds, before suddenly his fingers are pushing back inside you, smearing his cum around your walls and your clit. 

Suddenly, he bends down to retrieve your panties from where they hang around your ankles. You were right before, you think dizzyly, when you watch him tugging your panties up towards your waist again, the material did tear. 

Coriolanus, however doesn’t care, stopping only once he’s pushed your panties up your waist again - smearing his cum across the thin material, before pressing your panties back against your swollen, cum-covered, oversensitive clit. 

You whimper - you know what he’s going to do. He’s going to force you to walk around in your panties, soaked through with his still hot cum for the rest of the evening - a reminder that you belong to him. He’s the only one who gets to fuck you.  

„There“, he says pressing a chaste, tender kiss to your shoulder - the gentle sensation in stark contrast to his harsh grip on your cunt. 

„This should serve as a sufficient reminder, don’t you think, darling?“ 

tagging: @namelesslosers

someone please get me some holy water so I can cleanse my mind from these very unsophisticated thoughts

for more Coryo imagines, take a look at my Coryo masterlist :)

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #thg #tbosas #x reader #x reader smut #coriolanus snow imagine #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #maysileeewrites

[bi-writes]

i have brain rot about simon riley and need to write this down somewhere -> thinking about childhood-bestfriend!roommate!ghost x fem!reader

more bestfriend!roommate!simon (part 1/?)

slight nsfw (18+) thoughts ahead...

it's your first day of work at your new job. you took up something at the diner nearby, a 24/7 little place that served greasy eggs and day-old coffee in cracked, porcelain mugs. the floors were sticky, half of the menu was crossed out in scratchy black ink, you had to wear this god-awful uniform, but the pay was decent and the cooks were kind.

the diner had a theme, and that theme meant you were buttoning up a terrible uniform. a red and white striped dress with a frilly white apron wrapped around your waist. it cinched at the waist, the skirt was too short, and the neckline showed off too much cleavage, but you needed the money, so damn the uniform.

your hair was slicked back, showing off your light makeup and red lipstick. you fit the hat over your head and slipped the white sneakers on before grabbing your bag and coming out of your room. "and where are y'going lookin' like that, luv?" you froze, closing your eyes and sighing as you gripped your purse tighter.

"im going to work. im gonna be late." "that right? let me look at ya."

you turned around, opening your eyes. simon was standing there, leaning against the kitchen doorway holding a fresh cuppa. you swallowed hard, trying to be subtle as you looked him up and down. black cargo pants, compression shirt rolled up to his elbows, hood over his dirty blonde locks, a surgical mask covering his pretty face.

he put the mug down and straightened his posture at the sight of you. his dark eyes honed in on your figure in the dress, but he tried to hide the way his pupils dilated at the sight of the low neckline. if he moved just right, he could see the white lace of your lingerie peeking out from just under the lapels.

"bloody christ..." he hissed, clicking his tongue.

"shut up, simon, okay? im gonna be late. i know i look ridiculous, i--"

you gasped a little when you felt warmth against your neck. his palm caressed your jaw, fingers tightening around one side of your face. his hand nearly took it all, your cheek smushed against him as he examined you. his eyes grazed over your long lashes to your soft blush to the red of your pouty lips.

he thought it might look nice on him everywhere else. kiss marks on his neck, his chest, his scars, the inside of his mouth--

"dont look ridiculous," he corrected you. "look like a fuckin' doll."

you sucked in your breath as he smoothed a thumb over your bottom lip, his finger coming back a little pink with your lipstick. so pink, so cute, so adorable, just like your glazed, doe eyes and the sight of your tongue sliding along your teeth. you were holding back a whine, that much was obvious.

"simon..."

his other hand moved up, tracing along the edge of the lapel and just barely skimming over the lace of your bra. you held back a shiver, and you felt a warmth bubbling inside of you when you noticed him lean a little closer, his eyes peeking cheekily down the valley of your breasts.

"you let me know when your shift is over," he murmured, letting you go slowly. he knocked his knuckles under your chin, making you look right into his eyes. "im gonna need to walk you home, luv."

"you don't need to do that--"

"wont be taking no for an answer," he narrowed his eyes. "bloody beasts will eat up a pretty thing in this fuckin' dress."

your lips part slightly, your eyes half-lidded as you wonder what it might be like to push the mask up and lick into his mouth, taste the ash on his tongue and the warmth of his breath.

"beasts like you, simon?"

"aye."

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty

[tired-biscuit]

fem!reader. 18+ MDNI

Thinking about husband!Bakugou, who loves nothing more than having you in a mating press every single morning before he leaves for work.

Every inch of your skin is drenched in sweat by the time dawn seeps through the parted curtains of your bedroom window; the effort he puts into fucking you trickling down his temples and making the spikes of his ash blonde hair damp and droopy in that enticing way only he can pull off.

Nothing but quiet, sleepy gasps and hushed moans are exchanged between your panting mouths as he keeps kissing you. He's tracing his warm tongue across the roof of your mouth and over the flatness of your front teeth as he holds himself steady above you, broad, scar-riddled shoulders flexing before he dips in and sucks your tongue inside his mouth to make your saliva mix together.

He's slamming home every single time he pulls his hips back and rams them straight back into yours - movements now more animal than human after twenty minutes of raw screwing - and the friction gives him this wild look in his eye you only get to see when he's vulnerable like this. It's the one that makes the red in his already fierce irises even more vicious, and that tells you just how intensely he cares for you without ever uttering a word about it.

And it hurts when he gets it. All of it hurts, from how deeply he starts to crawl and sink himself inside you because of it, but you take it like a champ; you always do. Even if you cry and whine about it like a little cat in heat that needs to get taken care of. Even if you start to squirm underneath that massive, vigorous frame of his.

You're worried that he might be annoyed from how much you're moving around, trying to squeeze your legs back together and to push him out so that you can fucking breathe, but it's all for nothing.

After all, your softness doesn't bother your brute of a husband at all. He just licks your tears away, kisses your sticky cheeks that have a tang of salt to them from the tears you keep spilling that make the pillow underneath your head wet, before he bottoms out yet again and just holds himself there; making you endure his hard cock that is outright throbbing inside your belly now.

He's dazed because of your soft cunt; outright delirious as you start to tighten and gush all over him for the third time ever since his alarm clock woke you both up. He's never felt more like a man - chest puffing with twisted pride - as he watches you tip your head back into that goddamn pillow and just sob his name out with quivering lips again and again.

It's a struggle to go to work after all of that. Your pussy is so wet for him, he can hear it. The squelching noises are so obscene that they make his mind go fucking hazy with lust and adoration. You just can't stop sucking him in, despite crying about it.

So, you surely need more, right? Need him to go even deeper and fill you up, so that you're all warm and sticky with his cum. I mean, what kind of husband would he be if he didn't give the missus what she's silently begging him for?

"Shh, shh, shh, baby. Jus' one more and then we're done, yeah?"

Perhaps he'll take the day off today. Lie about that 'one more' and spoil you rotten, instead.

#katsuki bakugou #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #mha smut

[canyourfavesurvivecastledracula]

Ash Ketchum

Ahahahahaha no... he is like candy to them

Ash Ketchum has the temper of an anime character and the good sense of a ten year old. And the loyalty of an electric rat. He's... a lot like Davie Balfour, honestly, only with positive constitution. The one piece of life advice imparted to him before he left home was "change your underwear every day" and we have no evidence he actually takes it.

Ash tends to leap to conclusions and act impulsively and with good-hearted belligerence. I expect this will be a source of great amusement to Dracula all the way to the Women's Wing, where this particular special treat is going to be the very best, like no one ever was...

But what of the Pokémon? It is incredibly taboo for Pokémon to attack people directly, but they will defend their trainer. It's also taboo for people to directly engage each other - disputes are to be settled by Pokémon battles. (It's the Power of Friendship and Document Review Cockfighting!) Does Dracula even care about these taboos? Are Ash's Pokémon going to sit back and let this little boy become lunch? Pikachu has never done what he's told in his life, Squirtle is a whole mob boss, Bulbasaur lives by the motto No Gods No Masters, and Charmander is... also there I guess.

Or maybe not. Dracula probably steals all his pokeballs the big jerk. But Pikachu is still free-range.

I think Dracula does not keep any Pokémon himself because all natural animals hate vampires so I presume Pokémon likewise. No Power of Friendship for you. He rules the pack of Lycanrocs outside by fear and compulsion. (If Ash does get outside while Dracula is still in residence, Pikachu won't offer much protection, as electric is weak against ground). However, Dracula probably avoids at least some of the taboos by turning into Pokémon himself. Like, if he turns into Zubat, Pikachu probably wrecks him. But I suspect the favored Dracumon is probably Zoroark. I know it says Fox Pokémon, but it's more his color scheme than Lycanroc, and Dark, Ghost, and Normal type moves seem exactly the right combo for Dracula. It'll put him neutral in the elemental rock-paper-scissors against The Rodent, but I am confident Dracula is higher level.

Now if we take Dracula's Guest as canon and the blonde vampiress as Countess Dolinghen, and take seriously the lightning ask from earlier, then vampires are susceptible to electric attacks to the extent of being incapacitated not destroyed. Pikachu can probably protect Ash from the Girlies up to a point. But if Dracumon in pokeform can take out Pikachu, then Ash is pretty trivially back on the menu

So Ash Ketchum, champion of Indigo League, can not survive Castle Dracula.

I leave it as an exercise to the reader to speculate about Dracula's starter and team competition, in the unlikely event he can get Pokémon to listen to him at all

#ash ketchum #pokemon #indigo league #children #cartoons #anime and manga

[kennedyalike]

hi pookie!!! i love ur writing <3 i would literally die if you wrote dom! leon x fem!reader smut with degrading and bondage and breeding 🤭

Where do you think you’re going?

dom!toxic!boyfriend!leon x fem!reader

tags: possesive behaviour, smut, sex, p in v sex, fingering, bsdm bondage, ropes, breeding kink, toxic bf leon, mentions of breaking up, oral sex (both f and m receiving) degrading, toxic behaviour

word count: 1.7k

hi anon! i would LOVE to.. leon w breeding kink is the best<3 enjoy

You’ve finally mustered up enough confidence to leave him. Yes. You were going to do it finally. Leave your boyfriend of 2 years. There were many reasons to be honest but the main reason is that you feel trapped. He’s just so overprotective, controlling, possessive and….toxic.

Always trying to control your life and then he only defends it with ”But I know what’s best for you baby.” He’s manipulative and tries convincing you he just loves you so much. In all honesty, you love him way too much and deep inside you, you know you belong to him and you want to stay forever. But this is a desperate facade of an attempt to save yourself.

”Leon…Can we talk?” You shyly request while he undresses his jacket. He just came home from work. ”About?” He mumbles quietly while walking towards you. You look away for a second to brace yourself for what’s to come. ”Uhh…Well I wanted to talk a little about what I’ve been feeling like for a while.” You explain.

He stops right before you and his hands curl around your waist, pulling you a little closer to his muscular torso. Even though you’re breaking up with him, you can’t lie, he’s hot as fuck. Compression shirt on and the muscles looking so delicious under it. Veins on his arms and a muscly chest right in front of you. He stands taller and his soft ash blonde locks fluffle as he looks down at you. ”Talk.”

You hesitate for a second again before speaking up. ”I’ve kinda felt t-trapped and like…I don’t think this is working for me anymore.” You explain slowly while looking away. You wait a second for him to say something but he only looks at you straight in the eyes without his expression even quivering. ”Continue.” He demands and you start rambling again.

”W-well what I mean is..we need to break up. I-I can’t handle you controlling my life like this.” You finally finish. A slight smirk grows on his face as he leans towards you and whispers into your ear. ”We are not breaking up, sweetheart.” He says while his other hand leaves your waist to grab at your neck. The other still gripping your waist so tightly it almost hurts. ”Leon.. I’m serious…” You say while he slightly starts squeezing your neck, you paw at his hand and squeeze your thighs together.

”What? You thought I’d just take that from you? Sweet baby, you’re such a dumb slut. I know you want me so stop fighting it and be a good girl.” He’s not asking. A small whimper escapes your mouth and your lips part slightly. ”Leon…’need you.” You hear him chuckle under his breath before he withdraws his hand from your neck and grabs at your hips, turning your body around and pinning you face down to the wall.

”You really thought that would work, you’re such a little cutie, saying that while in this nightgown, you planned this didn’t you?” He groans into your ear as his hand squeezes at your ass and tits roughly, making you moan his name. ”Here’s what's gonna happen, baby. You’re gonna get on your knees and suck me off, if you do good enough I won’t tie you up.” He pushed your head down as you nodded and dropped to your knees.

The light coming from the kitchen made him look so sexy that you even wanted him to tie you up. You look up at him with puppy dog eyes as you unbuckle his belt and start pulling his pants down. He looks at you without a word. You wrap your hand around his hard cock and gently pump it up and down. His tip is pink and leaking and you feel your mouth watering as you bring your face closer to it. Your tongue lolls out and you start giving him little kitten licks. ”You’re begging for it, huh?” He growls and you start messily kissing all over his tip, slowly pumping his shaft while looking up at him.

Your mouth wraps around his tip fully and you suck a little, teasing him even further as he starts pushing your head down more. ”Faster..” He sighs as he grabs at your hair. You start going deeper, taking more of him in when his thrusts start getting sloppy. You almost gag when you push him deeper and deeper. ”Good girl…gonna cum.” He swears under his breath and suddenly you pull away from him, ripping his orgasm from him.

He hisses and looks at you, down on your knees with a smirk on your face. He roughly grabs at your hair and yanks you forward, his cock hitting your face messily. ”You wanna be a brat?” You just moan as he lifts you up, pushing you towards the bedroom. ”Leon…Don’t have to get so mad…” You giggle.

He pins you to the bed and starts rummaging through the closet, getting ropes. You know what’s coming and you can’t help but to press your thighs together when you feel that erotic feeling between your legs. ”You gon’ tie me up, Leon?”

”Yes. You’re gonna be begging for me to stop.” He says as he lifts your arms up and ties your wrists together tightly, then ties them up to the bed frame. He looks at your body while moving down to tie your ankles the same way. You squirm a little and pout at him. ”Too tight, Lee…” You tease him.

”You can take it.” He cooed as he hovered above you, taking in your appearance. Silky nightgown with no panties under and hardened nipples peeking through the fabric. ”So gorgeous, all for me to use.”

You whine and nod as his cold fingers sneak under the hem of your dress, landing on your clit. You buck your hips up for a little sensation and he holds them down. Starting to rub circles on your clit with his cold thumb. ”Ah- Leon..” You moan as he pushes two fingers inside your wet hole. He pumps them up and down with a steady pace, pleasuring you as his thumb still rubs your clit. He studied your expression and nibbled small kisses to your neck.

”Leon! Fuck.” You whimpered as you tugged the ropes and squirmed around, the pleasure fogging your mind and your body feels so at mercy under him, tied up like this. Fuck, every little touch he gives you makes you squirm and moan.

He pulls back to leave you wanting for more, slowly he unzips your dress and reveals your naked body to him.

You squirm a little when he’s dressed and you’re naked and tied. ”Leon-hhh… please.” You whine again when you tug at the ropes. ”No baby. You have to be a good girl, got it?” He asks while lifting his shirt off of his body and hovering over you again. ”You can do that for me, can’t you, bunny? Don’t be a brat.” He says as he pecks you on your lips before they latch on to your neck again. Slowly your eyes close as his kisses reach all the most sensitive spots, wet sloppy kisses behind your ear, on your neck, collarbones, tits, the soft skin of your stomach too as you writhed under him. ”Please..touch me.” You begged. His lips kissed your hips and inner thighs, slowly moving more and more towards your pussy. ”Leon…”

”I’m gonna make you feel so good, you never have those stupid thoughts again.” He mumbles as his mouth latches on your pussy, tongue lapping at your delicious slick as he squeezed your thighs and ass. He sucked on your clit and chuckled when he heard your desperate moans. ”Ah! Oh my god! Feels so good…Leon!”

He pulls back from your heat and lifts himself up, kissing you roughly. You almost taste yourself in his kiss but that didn’t matter. His hands start untying you and you think he’s finally had enough of this punishment and is going to gently fuck you. No. He retracts from the kiss and unties your hands. ”Leon…Want your cock.” You yelp as he suddenly turns your body around, grabs your wrists and ties you down again. Now you’re on your stomach. He grabs a pillow and pushes it under your stomach and hips so that your ass is lifting up.

”Leon…hhh” You wince when his palm hits your ass, he spanked you. Your body jolts forward and your breath hitches. ”Just a hole for me, good for nothing else, you slut.” He grabs at your neck from the back and slightly chokes you while his other hand gropes your ass.

”Yes…just….your little fuck toy.” You whimper as your tongue lolls out. You feel his hard cock prod at your entrance from the back when his hands move to grip at your waist. You arch your back for him as you feel him pushing in.

”Such a tight little pussy…fucking whore. My whore.” He groans and he fully bottoms out. He starts fucking into you at full speed and your tits bounce, face in the pillow as you moan, almost screaming. ”Ah fuck! Leon! Too much…” He continues his speed and his other hand grabs your hair, pulling your head backwards while he bullies his cock inside you. ”Take it all. I’m gonna fuck you stupid so you don’t say stupid shit like that.” He says unamusedly while continuing.

”Gonna cum into you so hard.”

”I’m sorry! M’ sorry, Leon! I won’t say it again, ever. I love you…” You mewl when he starts rubbing your clit while still continuing at a fast pace. Your moans, muffled by the pillows, almost sound like crying at this point. Leon’s rhythm seems to not have stopped when his hips still rut into you, hearing sweet moans and low grunts from your boyfriend. ”Gonna breed this fucking pussy. Gonna cum so deep in you, you’ll be pregnant.”

”Ah fuck! Yes, Leon!” You moan as he starts thrusting deeper. ”That way you’ll never leave me, all filled with my cum and babies.”

”Yes! I wan’ it, Lee…”

”I love you, baby.”

Your knees feel like giving out as your arms shake and the uncontrollable wave of your orgasm washes over you. Your pussy walls clench around his dick as he holds your hips down, pushing himself so deep in you as he released a spur of hot cum in you, filling you so deep. ”Such a good girl…”

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #resident evil 4 #leon s kennedy smut #resident evil #re4 leon #resident evil leon #leon kennedy x reader #leon smut #smut

[heartcereql]

shades of cool

୨୧ young!coriolanus snow x f!reader ୨୧ IN WICH Coriolanus is the person you've grown to hate and compete against. But when you and him have to work together to achieve what you want, the tables start to turn. (6.2k+ words) ୨୧ cw: cursing, a LOT of tension (yall r going to hate me for the cockblocking but next chapter will make it up i promise), probably ooc snow (acting like he's a sweetheart and not a psycho lollll), like one mention of blood?

a/n: snow lands on top (of me pls)

𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝐼 - 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝐼𝐼

There were only two things that you completely and utterly despised: breaking your favorite nail and the voice of Coriolanus Snow.

"Y/n!"

You made no sign whatsoever to acknowledge the man following your across the crowd of burgundy uniforms. You just clutched your books tighter and quickened your pace.

"Hey, Y/n- wait up!" he called again.

Sighing, you stopped in your tracks and turned around to see a platinum blond running in your direction. The usual shit-eating grin plastered on his face. You put on your best effort to suppress the eye roll that was begging to be released.

"Yes?" you asked, unamused.

"I was just wondering- you seemed kind of distracted in class today." His words were sugary, almost enough to trick anyone into thinking he was truly concerned. But not you though. You had learn to identify the glint in his eyes from a mile away. "Well, just in cas you missed this-"

Before you knew it, you had an A+ graded exam shoved in your face. Making a face of disgust, you scrambled away to look at his face, expression filled with pride.

"That's great, Coriolanus, real great. Would be even greater if I had asked", you scowled, turning away while Coriolanus scoffed behind you, quickly catching up with you again as you resumed your way out.

"Oh, c'mon, Y/n! You're not the only one who's allowed to brag", he said, nudging your side.

"Clearly not. You do it all the time", you deadpanned.

"Don't be mad 'cause you weren't able to beat me. Again."

The smell of roses was too stuck in your nostrils for your liking. Sweet and inviting, but remembering who it came from made the flowers lose all their charm.

"Also, exercise three's answer was option D," he pointed out, that annoying smirk on his face again.

"What?"

"It was option D, not A."

"How did you even- Nevermind. Option A is the literal definition, care to explain how it is option D?" you argued, rolling your eyes.

"I- A's not the definition!" Coriolanus tried to rebute.

"It is. Try paying attention for once."

"It's not!" He stopped fully, leaning against a wall and opening his bag.

"What are you doing?" you raised a brow at his franctic search. Sometimes you forgot how infuriating he was.

"I'm looking for the textbook," he replied, face almost buried in his bag.

"Unbelievable," you scoffed, turning around. "You really are unfixable, Snow."

Walking away from the mess of papers he had made around him, you could hear him protest.

"Hey, don't go! I'm finding the page!"

You shook your head. The exasperation in his voice was like music to your ears.

You knew who you wanted to be from a very young age. You knew exactly what you wanted and what you had to do to achieve it. You wanted everything.

Top of your class since you were five. Student of the month every month. Class president. Winning every single award that could be won by a child under twelve years old.

You wanted to take everything from a life that had given you nothing. Like a phoenix, your mother used to say, risen from the ashes to burn in the most blazing fire. With little to no resources, your family had incredibly made it work so that they could afford a small apartment in the Capitol (if you dared call the cubicle that your family shared a house). But your family had made it. And so had you, child prodigy, wanting to rescue your poor parents and sister. Specially when your mom's frequent coughing developed into something far more serious.

You were unstoppable. Nothing in your way. Praise. Applause. Recognition. It was all in the back of your hand.

Until Coriolanus Snow appeared.

He and you were basically the same. Same drive for power, same desire to rescue your family, same overachiever character, same flawless grades. One would think you would get along, being so impossibly similar.

And perhaps you could have. You could've befriended him and helped each other. If he had not equalled you with such aptitude. Before you knew it, Y/n Y/l/n was never mentioned without Coriolanus Snow. You were no longer the only student to pass with distinction. You weren't the only clear winner, or the only candidate for class president, or weren't so easily distincted class president, for Coriolanus was your vicepresident (something that had never been a thing, that appeared as suddenly as him).

But he was fighting you for your spot. Naturally, you didn't even consider him as a potential friend. He was an obstacle in your way, as you were in his. Soon, you two were always engaged in bantering, cruel comments, trying to bring the other down by showing off your accomplishments and grades and awards and titles.

It was more than safe to say that you and Corolanius held special hatred for each other.

And then came the Plintz Prize. Both of you wanted it with equal burning ache, and gave your very best since the first day. Obviously, you weren't the only students who were interested in winning the prize, but you were the ones ready to sacrifice everything, the ones to always make the most of an opportunity, even if it was minimal.

You were so deeply convinced that you were nothing like the other.

But neither of you was willing to let anything come in your way.

"A new financial aid is going to be gifted."

The words echoed in the room as students hushedly commented, whispered to one another.

"Students will submit a proposal, individually or in pairs. A suggestion with your own design of the Hunger Games. You'll go into detail about every little thing, so that in the end, Dr Gaul will select the project she fancies more to be the winner and receive the financial aid."

You and Coriolanus shared a look from opposite sides of the room.

The prize is mine.

As per usual, you were determined to go for everything. You needed to nail this. That very same afternoon you were sat in front of your desk, scribbling down what was supposed to be the first draft to your proposal project. You'd noted some ideas, but they didn't seem to make sense altogether.

Groaning for the umpteenth time, you got up from the spot you'd been occuppying for the last two hours. Your home was no inspiration, which was why you gathered all your scattered pages and notes and made your way to the Academy's library.

There was a spot you liked there. Your spot, though only you referred to it as that, of course. A comfy chair with a green cushion on the end of a large oak table, between the shelves of Geometry books and medicine articles. Golden rays of sunlight filtered through the large window on spring afternoons, and even in the bleak winter it felt nice to look through it.

Making your way over to your spot, you could almost feel the comfort of the chair, how your thoughts would clear and start to make sense. Eyes half closed anticipating the delight. But you opened them only to find a familiar (and annoying) blond sitting in your corner.

"Move" you said as you finished your way over to him.

"What? No. I'm working. Thinking", Coriolanus answered, unbothered, without looking up from his notes and papers, some scrambled, some with big ink stains.

"I don't care. It's my spot. Move.”

He raised his head to look up at you and stopped writing.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise this chair had your name engraved on it,” he pettily remarked.

“Whatever,” you exhaled, plopping down on the seat next to him. “You are such a pain in the ass, you know.”

“Back at you,” he replied, eyes focused on his papers again.

You huffed and reached inside your bag to grab your notes.

Your messily written ideas were mocking you, at this point. If you thought they didn’t make much sense at home, they definitely weren’t making any now. You had so much in mind. And they were great ideas, really. But you couldn’t find a way to connect them, for them to make sense altogether. And you were missing something. Something so essential, something that you couldn’t quite place.

How will the games be watched if they’re held in the middle of a desert? Where will the cameras be?

You scrunched your paper, groaning again and dropping your head to the table.

"Something wrong?"

You lifter your head to find Coriolanus looking at you, carding a hand through his hair.

"None of your business."

"Jesus, chill out Y/n. I was just asking if you were okay.." he spoke, not in his usual bratty tone; he sounded just worried.

Your eyes widened a bit with a mix between embarrassment and shyness.

"I'm just... stressed. I'm stuck on the whole proposal thing, it just won't make any sense. I feel like it's missing something, but I just can't know what," you told him, rubbing your temples.

Coriolanus let out a breathy chuckle, to which you looked at him disbelief.

"I knew you were cruel, but laughing at my miserable state is just-"

"I'm not laughing. I'm relieved," he explained. You looked for any signs of mockery, but his eyes were truthful and soft.

"Relieved?" you frowned.

"Yeah. I-I thought I was the only one having a kind of block," he looked down to his notes and that was when you noticed the messy paragraphs the crossed ideas, the lines and arrows that tried to connect everything.

You gave Coriolanus a tight-lipped smile. He was right. It was somewhat relieving to know that your only real threat was having a hard time like you were.

"Hey, I've got an idea."

His voice pulled you out of your thoughts. Oh hell no. No idea Coriolanus could want to share with you would turn out great.

"Shoot"

"I think we should partner up for the project," he bluntly said.

"Pardon?" you asked raising your brows. You really thought that you hadn't heard him correctly.

"Yeah, I mean, think about it. We both have a lot of ideas but feel something missing. We-we could help each other out!" Coriolanus clarified, somewhat flustered. "We'd win the prize and split it. Highbottom said the proposal could be submitted by pairs. If we do this together, we'll be unstoppable."

You blinked twice, digesting his words like you couldn't believe they were real.

"I think that's the worst idea I've ever heard."

Coriolanus scoffed. "Right, because you're so well known for your good ideas."

True. Though being a straight A's, perfect student, you had a certain fire inside you that had given you a reckless and flaming reputation.

"I'm in."

You were back in the library the next day, only this time you were sitting in your spot, and Coriolanus was besides you. You had been sitting in silence for the past fifteen minutes, reading the other's anotations and doodles.

When you finished, you leaned back into you seat, stretching your neck and pushing loose strands of hair behind your ears.

"So?" Coriolanus inquired when he noticed you were done. "What do you think?"

"I'm... surprised," you told him, chin resting on your hand as you looked at him. "It's almost identical to mine."

He chuckled. "Yeah, that's what I was noticing. I guess great minds think alike, right?"

"Could be, or you just copied me," you said. Coriolanus sneered and you saw the complains forming behind his lips, so you were quick to clarify. "I was joking, Snow. It seems we're not so different."

"Or you just copied me" he mocked, using your words from earlier.

"You wish," you smile, scoffing in a playful manner.

"Hey, what was it that you were unhappy with about your ideas? Because I think they're pretty great," Coriolanus asked, handing your notes back to you.

"They don't make sense to me. I couldn't come up with a way to connect it all," you shrugged. "Maybe we shouldn't use all of this, I don't know."

The entire day was spent between countless bickering and snacks, you and Coriolanus discussing the project and how insufferable the other was, shielded by the brimful shelves and the hushed conversations between students.

Over the next few days, your begrudging meetings with Coriolanus continued, each session marked by a mixture of tension and reluctant cooperation. The library became your unofficial battleground, the hallowed halls witnessing the clash of two strong-willed minds.

As you both settled into your usual spot once again, there was a palpable air of wariness. However, you couldn't help but notice a subtle change in Coriolanus. He seemed more open to discussion, his usually stoic facade occasionally cracking to reveal a hint of vulnerability. The topics ranged from the project at hand to personal interests, and amidst the disagreements, you discovered shared preferences and surprisingly similar perspectives.

By the first week, a sort of unspoken truce had settled between you. The bickering had mellowed into a more civilized exchange of ideas. Coriolanus, despite his initial resistance, began to respect your opinions and even admitted to finding some merit in your perspectives. You, in turn, acknowledged the sharp intellect beneath his icy exterior. Shared laughter became more frequent, often catching both of you off guard.

Throughout these encounters, the library transformed from a battlefield to a space of reluctant collaboration. Despite the lingering differences, a strange sense of partnership emerged. The once insufferable project discussions turned into an exploration of each other's intellect, and with each passing day, the library witnessed the evolution of an unexpected connection between two seemingly incompatible souls.

Your bag hit the leg of the table as you slipped in your chair, the blond taking the seat next to you. A soft thud was heard, along with something rolling. You were going to duck down to reach it, but Coriolanus was already grabbing it.

"Hey, are these yours?" Coriolanus asked, holding a bottle of pills.

Your eyes widened. Your mom's medicines. You reached inside your bag to check if the bottle you had picked up from the chemist's before school was still there. It wasn't.

"Yeah. Well- my mom's."

He handed the bottle to you, whcih you were quick to put back in your bag.

"Is she okay? Not like it's any of my business, but those pills are like one of the strongest shits ever," he frowned.

Taking a deep breath, you explained, "She's not. She hasn't been for quite a while. And the doctors don't say much, but it isn't looking good."

"I- um, I'm sorry," he stammered, looking down. "If you or her ever need anything, you know you can talk to me, right?"

You nodded, leg bouncing up and down.

"Here," he said, scribbling down something on a ripped piece of paper. "My address. If you ever need it."

"Thank you," you looked into his eyes, words barely a whisper. "I really appreciate it."

His knee bumped yours, like soothing it down, keeping it steady. "Anytime," he smiled.

You gave him an awkward smile, looking away.

The green folder, clutched tightly in your arms, contained the first draft of yours and Coriolanus' design for the Hunger Games. You both were going to introduce it to Dean Highbottom, since you needed to inform him of who formed your team and some other information. Then, he would grant the two of you an interview with Dr. Gaul.

Once, Coriolanus had referred to the folder as 'your baby'. You had given him a blank stare for a second before the two of you broke down in laughter.

Mindlessly turning around a corner, you bumped into someone's shoulder. A pair of arms caught your own, steadying you, keeping you from falling.

"Whoa, sorry-"

The folder. You quickly stepped back, freeing the folder from being crushed any further. Compulsively checking if the folder was okay, you failed to identify the pair of arms that had held you seconds before.

It was okay. Your baby was okay.

"So sorry, I- Coriolanus?" you asked as you finally lifted your gaze. "I thought you were coming by later?"

"Couldn't wait. I was actually looking for you. I just saw Dean Highbottom enter his office. Campus is pretty deserted, so I'd say we could be the first ones."

A soft smile graced his face.

"Shall we then?" you posed the courtsy question playfully.

"We shall"

The two of you made your way to the Dean's office, gushing about the project like two schoolgirls. Grades and rivalry were not brought up once. Perhaps just because you wanted the day to be perfect.

After knocking on Dean Highbottom's door and hearing a 'come in', Coriolanus opened the door and both of you came in.

"Look who it is! Snow and Y/l/n. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes", the Dean greeted you.

Coriolanus and you shared a glance before giving the Dean a polite smile.

"Are you here about the project?"

"We are," you answered, gesturing to the green folder in your hands.

"As in the two of you are submitting the proposal together?" the bearded man asked, raising his eyebrows. When Coriolanus nodded, he let out a chuckle. "I thought I wouldn't live to see the day."

You offered an awkward smile as you and the blond sat in the seats before the Dean's desk. You silently handed him your folder. After opening it and browsing through the various concepts and sketches, Dean Highbottom closed the folder, tapping his figertips against it.

Nervousness gnawed your insides, your leg bouncing up and down in anxiety. You hadn't even noticed this, too caught up into thinking the absolute worst of the situation; until you felt a knee- his knee- press into yours. Suddenly very aware of what was happening outside your mind, you blinked once, as to come back into reality, and then again, swifting your eyes to Coriolanus besides you.

For a moment, just a moment, you saw only a pair of eyes that guaranteed comfort peering into yours, crowned by the softests of golden curls. And then you saw the snarky comments, the whole usurping-your-place scheme, the perfect grades and the annoyingly pitched voice. The smile froze on your lips. Fuck.

"So," the Dean's voice broke the silence. "Are you two dating yet? Because it would really benefit you"

Both your head and his snapped into the Dean's direction.

"Pardon?!"

"What?"

Two pairs of eyes now looked wide and with a mix of disbelief and annoyance at the Dean.

"I take it you're not." No shit.

You were still too astounded to speak. What did he mean yet? He was your proffesor. He should, must, know that everything between the two of you is rivalry. Right?

"What, um, what did you mean it would benefit us?" Coriolanus asked, his voice as thin as thread.

"Well I eyed your proposal. And it's good. More than good. It has a lot of potential. But Volumnia Gaul loves one thing more than her creations. Gossip. Drama. If she hears the two of you are dating, she'll make you the Capitol's power couple. She'll give you a story. You will become her favourites. If you want to win at all costs, I'm just giving you a shortcut." He stared at the pair in front of him."But, overall, you've done a great work. I'll leave you to ponder it and I'll alert you when Dr Gaul is ready to see you."

You nodded, as Coriolanus and you mumbled 'thank you's and 'goodbye's and 'have a nice day's before leaving the office.

Campus wasn't very crowded yet; only a couple of students could be seen lurking around. The morning still preserved its coldness, dew remained on the grass.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you started walking, the blond boy quick to catch up.

You hated how you got caught up in this mess. All because you and him needed help. And because he and you were the only answer to the other's problem.

"Y/n?" Coriolanus spoke softly. "How do you feel... about what the Dean said?"

Sighing, you replied, "I just don't know. I mean, this was all crazy before but now? I'm confused, I guess."

"Don't you think it can help us even more?" he frowned.

"But we don't need any more help. We joined forces, no one can beat us, there's no need for us to-"

"I know we can do it without Gaul's help. But it’s one thing to win this aid, and another thing to become Gaul’s favourites. Do you realise how many doors she could open for us?” Coriolanus had stopped both of you now, his body blocking your way, hands in your shoulders, eyes fixed on yours.

“C’mon, Y/n, it’s just pretending,” he pleaded. “Plus, we’re in this to help each other out, right?”

A warm smile spread over his lips, one that only encouraged you and painted a smile of your own on your mouth.

“Fine. We’ll do this lunatic shit. Since you’re not able to reach my level without my help,” you teased, moving past him and resuming your way.

“Sure, Y/n. Whatever makes you sleep at night!” you heard Snow shout behind you.

You just gave him the finger, biting back a smile as you walked away.

The news spread like wildfire through the campus. The dean's offhand comment had ignited a storm of speculation and gossip. As you navigated through the university halls, it was impossible to ignore the curious glances and hushed conversations that followed you.

The library, once your sanctuary of academic warfare, now became the epicenter of buzzing rumors. Students stole glances at you and Coriolanus, whispering behind cupped hands as you pretended not to notice. The atmosphere had shifted, and your every move seemed to be scrutinized under an invisible magnifying glass.

Your next meeting at the library felt different. The air was thick with unspoken words, and the weight of the rumors hung in the room. As you both delved into your project, the tension was palpable. Every accidental touch or shared smile now carried an added layer of significance.

By the third week, the rumors had taken a life of their own. The once reluctant collaboration now felt like an uncomfortable alliance, forged not just for academic success but to navigate the newfound attention. Your life, once a sheltering and private, now felt like a fishbowl.

The doors that led to Gaul's lab appeared impossibly big. You let out a shaky breath, one you didn't know you were holding. Bouncing your leg usually was how you showed your nerves, but, since you were standing, you settled with just a trembling pinky finger.

Cold fingers were wrapping around your hand before you knew it.

"What are you doing?" you turned to Coriolanus.

"Gaul's no fool. We have to put on our best efforts to make her believe we are together. You have to help, too. And your hands were shaking," he shrugged.

Taking a deep breath, you swallowed his words and leaned further into his arm, clinging to him like a good girlfriend would.

As if on cue, the door swung open, revealing brown and blue eyes shooting a daring look. The woman’s face was instantly lit up with a smirk.

“Coriolanus Snow and Y/n Y/l/n. The sweethearts Dean Highbottom has told me so much about,” Volumnia Gaul greeted the both of you. “Please, come inside.”

She stepped aside to let you in. The ceiling seemed to be miles away from the floor. White, ivory columns welcomed you, glass cabinets displaying all sorts of weird creatures and experiments.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Gaul commented behind you.

There was just something so... unsettling about her, something you couldn't quite place but that was ticking you off

It's for the better.

That had been your mantra for the past few days. The end justifies the means. You kept telling yourself that you didn't want this, that you were only doing this for convinience. But lately you hadn't really been feeling that way. Not when you were sitting right next to him, laughing mere seconds ago, his eyes staring into yours, not trying to intimidate you but more in an attentive way.

He thought you looked so delicate and alluring. You did often, as of late. There were a few stray strands of hair that hid your dashing smile from Coriolanus. A smile he had so recently grown so fond of.

He just couldn't resist the urge to tuck them behind your ear; his fingers a soft caress against your skin. And so he did.

His touch was feather-like, as if you were a porcelain doll that was about to break. At the sudden contact, you shifted your gaze from the papers on the table to look at him. And, god, you almost wish you hadn’t. Because he looked otherworldly just sitting there besides you, hand behind your ear, lips parted slightly, dangerously close to you.

“Your hair was getting in your eye,” he mumbled.

The proximity was going to kill you. He was invading all of your senses. And you hated it. You hated it because this wasn’t even real. It was just supposed to help you with Gaul, nothing more. You hated it because it didn’t feel that way. You hated it because this was not the Coriolanus you knew; not the Coriolanus you chose to know.

“Thanks,” you breathed.

You were scared. As pure and simple as that. This was uncharted territory for you; you had never seen this part of him. It frightened you because you were losing control over your emotions.

"Coryo..."

He was convinced you were goingo to give into his desires. You were convinced for a moment, too. But then it occurred to you that this wasn't supposed to be real. That whatever you had between you both was just a scheme. That he was just joking.

"What did you score on the last biology exam?"

You mentally cursed yourself as soon as the words left your mouth. You felt yourself involuntarily slipping away from his touch.

“100%,” he responded, frowning. “Why?”

“Guess all these time around me wasn’t enough. I got 102%,” you smiled, trying to sound (hoping to sound) less awkward than you sounded in your head.

“How’s that even possible? I thought there were no extra exercises.”

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat before continuing. “I detailed every answer more than it was needed, so.”

“Oh. Well, congrats.” His lips were pressed into a thin line that he tried to transform into a smile, but ended up just contorting his face.

You looked at the papers before you, laying in a mess on the table, surrounded by pencils, sticky notes and highlighters. Then your eyes peered at the window besides your spot. The sun was setting behind the Capitol’s skyline, painting golden and rosy hues over the library. It was getting late.

“I- I think I should go. I’d better go home before it darkens.”

Coriolanus nodded. "Cool. I'm gonna get going too."

You bit your lip as you stood up, gathering your work. Not another word was uttered until you noticed the librarian peering over at you from behind some shelves, and students at the end of the aisle were turning their heads to you.

Perks of being Gaul’s favourite couple, you supposed.

You leaned to Coriolanus’ level again, pulling him into a side hug as you whispered in his ear.

“They’re looking.”

And then, you pressed a kiss to his forehead and walked out.

Too overwhelmed thinking about that moment with Coriolanus, you missed the way his eyes stayed on you until you left the library, and the way his fingers lingered on the part of his forehead that had been in touch with your lips.

The thought of him plagued your mind as you made your way home. Not even the biting cold of the evening could take the warmth spreading over your cheeks. What was going on with you? He was the guy you hated, you used to hate, the one that was trying to take over your spot.

But your attempts to convince yourself were vain. Because you no longer felt raging hate when you thought of Coriolanus. You couldn't excatly pin what it was, but it was definitely not hatred.

Reaching inside you bag for the key of your family apartment, you sighed, as if that was going to clear and sort out your messy feelings. Yet you didn't even need to open the door, for it was opened swiftly in front of you.

"Y/n!" your father pulled you in. The frown between his brows, the worry reflected in his eyes, the way he held you. Something was not right.

"Dad, what's wrong? I-"

"It's your mom, she- she started to cough so much blood. She's unconscious now, I- I was just about to take her to the hospital."

"Oh my God." Tears stung in your eyes. You knew she was bad, worse than she'd ever been, but this was far from what the doctors had informed you about. "Shit, where's Deena?"

"Your sister's staying over at a friend's. Is there anyone who can take you for the night? Someone who knew about your mother, if it makes you more comfortable?" he asked, rubbing your arm.

Coriolanus. You hated that he was the first person to come to mind, but the truth was thas this project had swept you up from practically every other aspect of your life. You hadn't seen your best friends much, since they were also focused on their projects. Most of your time had been spent with Coriolanus. And you didn't know how to feel about that. Disgusted, you supposed. But that didn't quite match the tugging in your chest whenever you met him at the library, or the calmness that took over you when his knee pressed into your anxiously bouncing one.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so," you nodded, blinking the tears away, though they slid down your cheeks anyway.

"Good. I don't think it'd be good for you to be alone right now."

You hurriedly packed your essentIals and some extra clothes, making your way to the door. You held it open for your dad as he carried your mother.

"I'll see you soon. Be safe, Y/n," he whispered.

"You too, Dad."

You tried your hardest not to break down as you saw your father making his way to the doctor's with your mom in his arms.

But once he was out of sight, you rushed out of the filthy apartment building. As you ran through the Capitol's streets, you remembered the now wrinkled paper that he had written his address on.

"Here. My address. If you ever need it."

It sat scrunched in your coat's pocket. You kept running as your trembling hands unfolded it, and quickened your pace once you'd read the address.

You arrived at his door short of breath, cheeks reddened from the effort, tears dried from the wind. Your knuckles softly knocked at his door.

Mess. You felt like a mess. Everything you had known to this day seemed to have completely flipped around, changing everything all of a sudden. Your mind was a tangled, impossible knot of thoughts and feelings and emotions that were constantly contradicting each other.

A blonde girl opened the front door. To your blurry eyes, she looked like an angel.

"Can I help you?" she kindly prompted, a concerned frown appearing in between her brows.

"Yeah- I'm looking for Coriolanus?" you said, voice on the point of breaking.

"Come in, he'll be right here," the woman spoke, stepping aside so you could come in and closing the door right after. She sat you down on an armchair, her touch gentle and tender. "Coryo! Someone's here for you."

As soon as the words left her mouth, you heard footsteps tumbling down the hallway and into the entrance. The instant his eyes met yours, he put everything else aside. His sole focus was you. The red around your eyes, eyelashes glinting from the recent caress of tears, shaky hands, bottom lip between your teeth, and your leg bouncing up and down almost uncontrollably.

He wanted to hold you forever. Take you in his arms like you were a fragile flower, yet the most fierce of them all. Rivalry long forgotten and buried, mean comments and hurtful offenses forgiven without a second thought. He saw Y/n. Not perfect grades, not snarky remarks, not an opponent. Just Y/n. Sweet, sweet, Y/n.

And you didn't see Coriolanus Snow. The blond standing in front of you now was not the one you'd been fighting for the better part of your teenage years, even before. He was not the one competing against you. Who was him then, if not the Coriolanus Snow you had known all your life?

Coryo.

"Y/n, hey, hey, what's wrong?" he asked, voice surprisingly soft, even for his cousin. He crouched down, placing a cold, calming hand on your fidgety leg.

You could feel the tears welling up again, because he was there for you.

“I… I’m going to head out,” the woman said. “I’ll be back in a while.”

Coriolanus muttered a goodbye and then she was gone. And as soon as she was, you broke down.

Burying your head in your hands, tears burnt past your eyes, flowing now freely. All that could be heard were your heavy, shaky breaths. His hand on your back, tracing small circles, made you pull your head up.

Fuck, why were you even here?

"Y/n?"

"It's my mom." You tried to dry your cheeks, only for tears to fall down again. "She-she lost consciousness. The doctors didn't even say she was that bad. And I.. I just arrived there and there was nothing I could do-" your voice broke before you could finish the sentence.

He instantly pulled you into a hug, your head hidden in the crook of his neck, arms around it. One of his hands was wrapped around your torso, safely drawing you to him, while the other was tangled in your hair.

"I am so, so, sorry," he whispered, breath tickling your ear. You only clinged to him tighter; the only thing on your mind other than your mother right then was how warm and guarded you felt in his arms.

When you finally retracted to look at him, you found your body almost leaning into him again, yearning for his embrace. You inhaled sharply.

"I'm by your side no matter what, okay?" he assured you, eyes piercing yours, hands sliding up your figure to cup your face. "I'm here for you."

You did your best to gather yourself and nod at his words. But then you felt him pulling away in the slightest. No. You wanted him close. You wanted him.

You rose a hand to his neck, fingers dancing along his skin, messing with the blond curls they could reach.

"Hey, Y/n," Coriolanus called out. "She's going to make it. She'll be okay. And so will you."

A knot formed in your throat, the prequel to infinite tears, because who was him and what was he doing to your heart?

Whatever prejudice or thought you had against him was blurrying in your mind. The person he was supposed to represent in your head was further and further from the one barely inches away from you now. And then it hit you. Right then, right there. It didn't scare you. You wanted to know this person. You wanted to give the both of you a second consideration under different lightning.

And so, you closed the gap between Coriolanus and you, as he had tried and wanted so bad to do mere hours before. His lips were warm, contrary to every other part of his body you had ever been in contact with.

For a fraction of second, he hesitated, frozen in his spot, convincing himself that this was happening, that this was real, that you were real. But once he kissed back, he just couldn't let you go.

His hands were suddenly everywhere, exploring your body and drawing you to him as he kissed you, all the desire and passion (and even the resentment, too) poured into the kiss. Coriolanus wanted to make you feel okay. Not just now. But 'now' would have to do as of that moment. And if this was how you wanted the pain to go away, so be it. Fingers digging in your hips made you leave out a mixture of a gasp and a moan, which Coriolanus used to slip his tongue inside your mouth. Everthing he did got you addicted, craving more.

You had both been sitting on the floor, but now you were climbing into his lap, pulling away for the smallest of seconds, but either way Coriolanus was quick to reunite your lips again. Your mouths danced together. Your sking tingled pleasantly under his touch; a constant fire travelling beneath his fingers. But when his hand raised to your cheek, checking for the trace of any new tears. It was simply enough to melt you on the spot.

Tugging at his hair, you angled his face to leave a trace of open-mouthed kisses along his jaw. His groan reverberated through your skin.

The pain was buried somewhere in your mind, but your heart didn’t ache in that moment; he was all your senses were taking in. And you felt safe.

© heartcereql, 2023 || thank you for reading ! 𓆩 ♱ 𓆪

#heartcereql #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you

[suashii]

— 𝒽𝑒𝓎, 𝓃𝑒𝒾𝑔𝒽𝒷𝑜𝓇 ౨ৎ

after learning that you live in the same building, you stop by xavier's place after a long day at work.

xavier x reader. 1.1k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ neighbors to lovers-ish ﾉ food

thoughts race through your head as your knuckles come in contact with xavier’s apartment door.

is showing up here weird? is he even at home right now? if he is, what if he doesn’t want company?

you chew your lip as the questions aimlessly bounce around your skull. despite not having many items in it, the plastic bag hanging at your side suddenly feels heavy in your grasp. you’re starting to think the loneliness you’ve felt the past few days is dictating your actions, that your heart is leading over your head. 

you briefly contemplate abandoning your impromptu plan and going downstairs to your floor to have dinner alone like you have been. your foot makes a move to turn on its heel, but the click of the door opening and the sliver of light spilling into the hall from the gap stops you in your tracks.

even though you had hoped he’d be home, you find that your lips part in surprise upon catching a glimpse of xavier. he brings the heel of his palm up to rub at one of his eyes, the other squinted as if the light is too bright for him to handle. the ash blonde hair atop his head is disheveled and despite how unkempt he looks, it appears as though he’s still wearing the clothes he had put on this morning.

“sorry,” you keep your voice down, “did i wake you up?”

“it’s fine.” he waves his hand in dismissal and yawns. “i fell asleep on the couch.”

peeking behind him, you see that one of the throw pillows he keeps on the furniture has fallen to the floor along with a book he must have been reading before dozing off.

the mental image you create of him hanging off the edge sound asleep makes the corner of your lips twitch in a smile but, at the same time, knowing that he’s tired almost makes you feel guilty asking about having dinner with him.

though, before you can even pose the question, xavier’s blue eyes flit down to the bag in your hand. “what’s that?”

you look down as if you’d forgotten why you’d stopped by. “oh, i bought ramen. you want some?”

the mention of food seems to wake xavier up a bit, the drowsiness in his eyes fading as he lightly nods and steps aside to allow you in. you do so, slipping out of your shoes and into the pair of slippers the man gestures towards. they soften each of your steps as you make your way to the kitchen.

setting the bag on the table, you pull each item out one by one—two things of cup noodles, a bag of share-size chips (the fried chicken flavor), and two bottles of tea. you can barely consider it a dinner but xavier says nothing about it, turning to heat up water in the kettle upon seeing that you brought instant ramen. it warms quickly and as the noodles cook, the two of you sit on opposite sides of the table, pulling your wooden chopsticks apart to get ready for the meal.

when the timer you set for three minutes goes off, alerting you that the ramen is done, xavier wastes no time dragging his cup towards him and picking up a large bite. the noodles hang from his lips as his cheeks puff out, broth dripping down into the cup as he slurps them into his mouth. you watch with a growing smile and only speak once he’s swallowed the massive mouthful. “hungry?”

“mm,” he hums with a short nod as he digs back in for another bite. “i didn’t eat before i fell asleep.”

the fact doesn’t surprise you but instead of lecturing him, you eat your meal too. the idle chatter you two share ranges from about what he had been reading earlier to plans for the upcoming weekend. each topic holds little relevance but simply talking to him quells the loneliness that brought you here.

as you clean up, you wonder if he’d mind doing this more often.

“thanks for eating with me,” you tell him, slowly starting on the way to the door.

xavier hesitates before he says anything and scratches at his neck before he finally does. “you don’t have to leave yet. we can… watch a movie or something.”

you stifle a giggle at how awkwardly he proposes the idea. you can’t help but mess with him a little. “oh, so you can fall asleep and i have to finish the movie on my own?”

the man tries to hold back a pout at your teasing but it peeks through in the way that his lip slightly pokes out. as much as he wants to, xavier can’t deny the possibility, so he stays quiet.

your teasing is lighthearted but the more you think over his invitation, the more you start to think that maybe, just maybe, xavier’s in need of some companionship just like you. the carefree way he approaches life never made you consider it before now, but maybe he’s lonelier than he let’s on. it’s no more than a silly hypothesis on your part but still, you clear your throat to rid your voice of its jovial tone.

“i’m only joking,” you reassure him with a small smile. your feet carry you to the couch and you plop down on the far end, the one opposite of the mess he left behind earlier. you look over your shoulder to see xavier standing in the same spot. raising your eyebrows, you ask, “does the offer still stand?”

he seems almost surprised that you’re sticking around but he only lingers for a moment before rounding the piece of furniture to join you. he picks up the book and pillow, quickly cleaning them up. with the clutter handled, he turns on the tv and looks to you with a question. “what do you want to watch?”

“you pick. i’m curious to see what kind of movies you’re into.”

“sure.” he turns his attention back to the screen ahead of him and you do the same to watch his selection process. you don’t expect him to add on, “but no more making fun of me.”

your head quickly swivels to see if xavier’s serious, to see if you actually touched a nerve earlier. and while his eyes are still glued to the tv, you don’t miss the way his lips curl up in a jesting smile. 

you laugh and tell him, “no promises.”

you could get used to nights like these.

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed, consider reblogging or leaving a comment :3

#xavier x reader #xavier x you #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you #xavier drabble #love and deepspace drabble #xavier fluff #love and deepspace fluff #lads x reader #lads x you

[fazedlight]

Confusion (Late S6 vibes. I found a use for William… I’m sorry?)

The Catco elevators opened to a chaotic scene as Lena stepped out. Despite being afterhours - it had just passed 6pm - employees were shuffling around everywhere, with frequent murmurs and occasional shouts flying by.

“Looking for Kara?” Nia said, passing by Lena while holding a large stack of papers on the brink of falling. Lena opened her mouth to speak, but Nia didn’t wait for an answer. “She’ll be back in a few minutes, I think she’s meeting with Andrea.”

Lena nodded as Nia quickly disappeared into the backrooms. Guess this is normal when they crash the issue, Lena thought, making her way to Kara’s desk and setting down the mocha and pastries she had brought from Noonan’s. She had been lucky to get there just before closing, after Kara’s text that they’d have to skip movie night in favor of a late night at work.

“Lena,” came a deep voice behind her, “What are you doing here?”

Lena turned, nodding to William as he approached. “Just bringing Kara some stuff,” she said, gesturing to Kara’s desk. “Late night for you too?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Hopefully the last, before I move back to London.”

“You’re moving?”

“Looking forward to going home,” William said. “I’ll be leaving in a few weeks. Just enough time to hand off my responsibilities at Catco.”

“Going back to The Times?” Lena asked.

William nodded. His eyes drifted to the coffee and sweets, and Lena noticed a tinge of confusion. “I best get going,” he said, not remarking on what he was thinking. “The senator’s fraud case means I have an article to rewrite.”

“Good luck,” Lena said, as he waved and left. Lena turned back, finding Kara as she rounded the corner with Andrea. Kara met Lena’s eyes, and the blonde smiled wide.

---

“You smell like smoke,” Lena said, brushing ash off of Kara’s shoulder, eyeing the charcoal hues that tinged her supersuit.

“A forest fire will do that,” Kara said, practically shaking like a dog to get other ash off her hair. “Luckily we got it before it spread very far.”

William glanced over curiously from where he was jotting notes. He had been working with Alex and Brainy on mapping out city hotspots when Supergirl had arrived back from her firefighting. It hadn’t taken long for Lena to make her way out of the lab and go up to the super.

“I think we gotta spray you down,” Lena teased.

“Brainy said the nanobots can handle it,” Kara said, tossing her hair back. “I just gotta deactivate at some point.”

“Yeah, you gonna get around to that soon?”

“Will you two knock it off?” Alex said, her voice aggrieved. “Some of us are trying to get work done.”

The two had the good sense to look a little bashful, and William glanced over curiously. From his side, he could hear Alex mutter “just good friends, my ass”, and he watched as Supergirl threw her head up towards Alex, flushing slightly, and seeming suddenly unable to look a confused Lena in the eye.

This is going a bit too far, William thought, eyes darting to Lena. Flirting with Kara? And Supergirl?

---

“Well, it’s been great working with you,” Supergirl said, extending her hand.

William returned the gesture, then doing similar with Alex, and J’onn, and Lena. “Please do keep in touch,” he said. “I’d love to hear from you when you’re back in London.”

“Have a safe fli-” Supergirl suddenly turned her head.

“Something going on?” Alex asked. 

“Bank robbery downtown. Might be a big one,” Supergirl said. “Safe flight, William. We’ll see you later.”

William nodded as Supergirl left, J’onn and Alex following. That left him behind with Lena, who didn’t frequent the field unless magic was afoot. Which left him a bit grateful for the chance…

“Well, William-”

“Don’t break her heart, Lena.”

Lena’s brows furrowed, utterly perplexed. “What?”

“I see you,” William said, a serious expression on his face. “The way you flirt with Supergirl. The way you flirt with Kara.”

“Kara- flirt-” Lena’s eyes widened.

“Look, they’re both clearly interested in you,” William said. “All I’m saying is be clear with your intentions. Kara doesn’t deserve a broken heart.”

“I don’t have intentions. With- with either of them,” Lena answered.

William’s face tensed with skepticism. I’ve said my piece, he decided. “It’s been great working with you, Lena.”

---

William tilted his head back against the plane’s headrest. The 5hrs from National City to Metropolis had been annoying enough. Now it’d be another 6hrs to London. I hope I can get more sleep this flight, he thought, glancing out over the Atlantic Ocean. 

He looked down at the gossip rag he had purchased in Metropolis Airport, beginning to flip through it. It was mindless garbage, hopefully boring enough to lull him to sleep. 

As he turned the pages, he was surprised to find a picture of Kara Danvers and Lena Luthor - but then again, it was only a matter of time. It’s just so fucking obvious, William thought, wondering if the tabloid suspicions would force Lena to choose.

But he was also unsettled - it was an odd location. To any casual reader, it would simply be a random picture on the street, the two perhaps on the way to get a cup of coffee. But he knew they were just feet away from the Tower. A location that, according to Alex Danvers, Kara had no awareness of.

He stared, and stared. Would Lena be so foolish to ask Kara to meet there?, he thought, knowing the Luthor was too smart to make such a casual mistake.

That’s when his already-jetlagged brain began to scan Kara again. The blonde hair. The emphatic voice. The way she fiddled with her glasses. The way Lena flirted with her, just like- 

Wait, William thought, startling awake with a shot of adrenaline. Wait, WHAT?!

---

It was early morning when Lena took her seat at a lab bench, her mind still swimming from William’s observation the day before. Have I really been that obvious?, she wondered to herself. Does Kara know? And if she does, she hasn’t said anything because… 

Lena put her face in hands. God, I hope I haven’t been making a fool of myself.

“Are you okay?” came a voice.

Lena’s head popped up, finding Kara wandering into her lab, a hint of concern highlighting the blonde’s face. “Your heartbeat is fast,” Kara said, “I just came over to - to see if something was wrong.”

“I’m fine,” Lena said, her voice a high-pitched squeak.

“Lena,” Kara said, taking a seat next to Lena, pulling her into a hug. “Lena, I’m here.”

Lena sighed, relaxing into Kara’s arms. What am I so afraid of?, she thought to herself. That Kara doesn’t feel the same way? That our friendship will change? While the first was the only likelihood Lena could really see, the second… just didn’t seem like a real possibility. 

Lena pulled back from the hug, gazing into Kara’s face. Didn’t we learn we should be honest so long ago?, she thought. Even when it’s hard? “William… said choose,” Lena said slowly, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks, “Between Kara and Supergirl.”

“Choose?” Kara said, confused.

“I’ve, er,” Lena swallowed harshly. “I’ve apparently been flirting. With both of you.”

Kara’s eyes widened. “On purpose?”

“No…”

“Oh.”

She sounds… disappointed?, Lena thought, and she knew Kara could hear her heart beginning to pound a little faster. “I- I can do it on purpose? If you want.”

And this time Lena felt a growing joy in watching Kara flush. “I’d like that. And, um,” Kara paused, shifting shyly. “Maybe after we do that for a while, I can ask you on a date?”

Lena smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”

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

This idea has been floating around in my head for a while. I did do a 9-word fic for it - but then I figured hey, may as well write out the full thing.

#I am very bad at flirting to so do not judge me. (Or do 😂) #this was in my plotbunny doc as “William the helpful idiot” #I don't hate William as a character. But he just wasn't necessary. The screentime would've been better spent on supercorp or dansen #anyway Nic I sent him to London as you suggested 😌 #mel writes ficlets #supercorp

[crybaby-bkg]

His Muse

Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader Warnings: Yandere Bakugou, Obsessive Tendencies, psychoanalyst therapist reader, smut, extremely dubious consent, stalking, kindapping (tagging to be safe), cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampies, kitchen sex, strength kink, threats of violence (not to reader). please let me know if I missed anything! Word Count: 6.5k Notes: this isn't a more violent yandere fic, and has lots of bargaining and dub con, just as a warning!! but I can't believe I came up with this idea in November omg I move so slow when it comes to full fics. also I tried gradient style for the title and I love it lol it was so fun to try. anyway, please enjoy!! Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI! Also available on ao3!

When Bakugou comes to you to be his therapist, you don’t think twice about it. He filled out his application correctly, he answered when you called, his insurance went through, his problems sounded legit. You had become wary taking on new patients in your field—dealing with criminals, those with hardened and extensive records, people with all kinds of issues that an everyday therapist wouldn’t be able to handle accordingly. But you did it all (someone had to), so your vetting process was a little heavier than usual, if the therapy wasn’t state mandated. 

But Bakugou Katsuki passed with flying colors. If anything, he sounded a little too normal for your line of work, but he kept promising that his issues would be better discussed during sessions. With a little hesitance, you agree and take him on. 

He’s…okay, for the most part. A little gruff, rough around the edges and snappy when you try to touch on certain topics of his life. But in general, he’s a great patient; he pays on time, shows up five minutes early, doesn’t linger when your next patient comes buzzing, doesn’t try to touch you or seek out personal information from you. 

If anything, he still seems a bit too strait-laced for you. That is, until he starts to delve into why he really wants to come to therapy—to deal with his tendencies of rage, lashing out, and obsession. You had told him that you didn’t deal much with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, but he had assured you that, no, his obsessions and compulsions weren’t about checking the locks a certain amount of times on a Wednesday, but instead about people. 

He obsessed over people, and when things wouldn’t go his way, his rage would rear its ugly head. He still hasn’t told you what his rage specifically looks like, especially with how he momentarily glances over at your little message pinned on your wall that warns people about admitting criminal acts that you’d have to report, damn the confidentiality. 

“When did these obsessions start?” You ask him, body tilted toward him even though your eyes and hands move to your open computer. You document what he says, take note of it all, skimming over previous notes from other appointments. 

“Maybe about eighteen months ago?” Bakugou’s voice is gravelly, deep and grating against the column of his throat. As he answers, he shoves his hands in his sweats pockets, scoots down a little further on your adjacent couch, looks around the room as if he hadn’t been in here a few times before. 

“So this is a more recent development?” You ask, humming under your breath and nodding when he grunts an affirmation. You type, obsessive tendencies over people started less than two years ago, could be trauma based, and you wonder if he can read the words through the reflection of your glasses when you look over to see his eyebrows screwed down. 

“Was it sudden for you?” You cock your head to the side, before shaking your head. “Let me rephrase; did these tendencies ever show their faces in other aspects of your life? Different time periods, situations? Or was it just a sudden thing that happened, something you realized once the obsession had already begun?” He starts nodding his head before you can even finish, his ash blond bangs shadowing his eyes for a second in such a way that sends a prickle of chills up your arms. You don’t know why, so you try to swallow the feeling down until it burns at the back of your throat, shifting a little in your cushioned seat. Bakugou watches you for a second before he opens his mouth to speak. 

“It was sudden.” He answers, plainly, doesn’t offer up much else until you cock an eyebrow at him, signaling for him to go on. He rolls his eyes and huffs under his breath, shifting again before he shrugs dramatically with his hands still in his pockets. 

“I dunno, I was fuckin’ normal until I wasn’t.” You chuckle a little at his tone, crossing your legs under the desk, watching how Bakugou’s vermillion eyes dart down to catch the sight of them, before they slide back up to your face. 

“You’ve been in a relationship before?” You state more than ask, eyebrows slid high on your face in question, watching Bakugou roll his eyes a little before he nods. 

“Yeah.” He offers, his mouth set in a thin line, obviously not wanting to offer up too much information on the topic. 

“How many?” You push. How the hell does he expect you to help him when he keeps giving you short answers, nothing to work with? Why even seek out your help if he acts like being here is such a nuisance to deal with?

“Two.” Bakugou says through gritted teeth, eyes cutting at the decorations you have hung on the walls. “What does this have to do with anything, anyway?” He spits, cuts his eyes at you once more as you narrow your own at him. 

“I’m trying to find a connection between your sudden obsessive tendencies with your relationships with people in the world.” You clarify for him, sitting up a little in your seat as his own irritation bubbling off of him starts to sink into your pores, too. 

“People rarely have sudden personality flips and switches with no leading causes beforehand. Did these tendencies start because of preexisting mommy issues that were suddenly uncovered after being repressed for years? Were you in a long and committed relationship, which ended in such a way that it wasn’t necessarily on your terms, even if it was ultimately your own call? Was it an accident you were in? Have you always been like this and never realized it? Do you understand what I’m saying, Katsuki?” 

…

Bakugou isn’t taking in a single word that you’re telling him. He wishes he could; he’s sure you’re saying some real shit that he should most likely take into consideration. But its so hard to focus when you look at him like that, when your neck rolls a little with every word, when your foot bounces under the desk, the way your lips curve just so. 

You’re the reason he’s even here right now. The bane of his fuckin’ existence, but also the  only thing that matters to him in the world. 

You are his obsession. His muse, his fantasy, his daydream turned reality. And it’s all your fucking fault. With how you prance around your home with your curtains open, wearing nothing but slutty little shirts and no bra, no pants, just panties that sink into the curves of your ass and thighs. How you just go about your life without a care in the fucking world, always so oblivious to everything around you. 

You hadn’t even noticed him, the months he spent watching over you. Didn’t catch his lingering stares, or how his ash blond head of hair always seemed to be at least ten feet behind you with every step you took. How your long time neighbor from across the hall suddenly disappeared, how a new tenant moved in when he knew you’d be out. How you forget entirely too often to lock your door, to put your used panties in the hamper. How you tease him with everything, how you’ve been fucking leading him on for over a year and a half now. 

So, he had to get desperate. Had to search you up and find what qualifications he needed in order to be seen by you, a psychoanalytical therapist for those who want to be reformed. 

But Bakugou had no plans on reformation. There was nothing for him to be reformed on. He just wanted you, and goddamnit, if he wasn’t going to have you. 

“I understand you, doc. Loud and clear.”

***

It was your day off, and you had plans on spending it in your bed, catching up on some reading and maybe finishing that one show you started a while ago. But, lunch time came around, and you were craving something specific and didn’t have all the ingredients that you needed. You figured you could go out to the grocery store to grab them, get some fresh air on the way there, and maybe stop at that book shop you had been eyeing for a while. 

You get ready quickly, closing your front door behind you, pausing for a second to stare at the door across the hall. You still can’t believe Ms. Hayashi had so suddenly moved out, especially after living in this complex since it was first built. She hadn’t even said goodbye, and you never got the chance to return the Tupperware she lended you. 

It wouldn’t have been as weird if someone hadn’t supposedly moved in the next day. You were a gossip with your landlord, a nice older lady, and she gave you all up the updates on the people who lived in the complex. She had said that he was a nice guy, kind of scary and intimating in stature, but respectful the whole time. Said that he didn’t even look at the apartment before giving her the first six months rent and despot in cash. She told you to ever call her if you smelled meth cooking from that apartment, as no one who works a regular job just has that kind of money laying around. 

You shrug to yourself, coming to the conclusion that maybe the new owner just needed to get out of town, away from somewhere or someone else. Everyone has their reasonings, and you can’t analyze every single move someone you haven’t even met before has ever made. 

You continue down the steps until you’re out of the building, unaware of the crimson eyes that follow your every movement. The walk to the store is a little longer than you’d like for it to be, but you figure that the exercise can do you some justice, and it’s always nice being out in nature. You stop and pick a flower that grows from a crack in the sidewalk, twirling it in your finger the whole way to the store, finally tucking it behind your ear when you have to grab a grocery cart. 

And still—and still—you don’t see the eyes that watch you. The figure that follows your every move, that disappears behind walls and aisles every time you turn your back. You feel it though, he can tell, because you move a little quicker and look over your shoulder more than usual. 

You go to the self checkout, trying to hurry now, as an uneasy feeling starts to wash over you. You get these often, especially working in the field that you do with the patients that you choose to take on—hardened criminals, fresh out of jail and still ready to harm society, people that just like to see the world burn for the fun of it. 

The therapist is typically one of the first few people to be taken out, after parents. You’re always too high on the list for your liking, despite loving your job. 

You keep trying to scan an item, but it’s not working, and that only makes your panic settle in deeper into your bones. You try to remember the techniques that you give people when they start to feel overwhelmed by their emotions and what goes on in their heads, but its hard when that sinking feeling only grows deeper and heavier by the moment until—

“Need some help with that?” You jump away quickly, eyes wide as you hold up the can of soup you were gripping tightly like a weapon. You let out a breath though, only in slight relief, to see that its one of your patients standing beside you—Bakugou Katsuki. He looks different than he usually does in your sessions together; he’s wearing a tight compression shirt that hugs his wide shoulders, navy blue in color, sweatpants that wrap around the thick muscles in his thighs, and plain running shoes. 

For some reason though, the panic in your stomach doesn’t fully quell at the sight of him. 

“No, I got it. Thanks though, Bakugou.” You tell him politely, smiling shakily. Why does the sight of him unnerve you so bad? You’ve run into patients before on the street, and they never make you feel like this, this uneasy, even when it was dark and you were dressed more scantily than you are now, with your baggy pants and too big shirt. 

“You sure?” He grunts, cocking his head at you as he gently pries the can from your still tight grip. “I watched you struggle with it for like, two minutes. Let me.” He tells you, never taking his eyes off of you as he scans your item easily enough. He only looks away when he bags it for you, and starts to scan the rest of your things as if you weren’t standing there. 

“Oh no, it’s okay, I can finish that myself.” You wave him off him with a shaky smile, finally breaking out of your stupor when he’s damn near finished. You reach out to stop him, but Bakugou only waves you away with a grunt. 

“’S alright. It’s the least I can do for you helping me figure my crazy out.” Bakugou shrugs at you, a joke you’re presuming, as he glances over at you with a tiny lilt at the corner of his mouth. It calms you, only for a second, before something ever so slightly changes in his eyes, in the way he looks at you and takes you in, makes you feel like something sinister is sinking deep into your bones. Your stomach tightens again, and you have to force a smile when he finishes, before it drops when you see him reaching for his wallet. 

“Oh, I really can’t let you pay for my groceries.” You tell him, stepping up to him before pausing when he looks at you out of the corner of his eye with an expression so terrifying, that it makes stone drop into the pit of your belly. 

“Let me.” Bakugou tells you more than asks you, and you nod slowly, swallowing the thickness that has settled into the back of your throat. You can only watch as he pulls out a wad of cash, counting through it before inserting it into the machine, mouth set in a thin line all the while. You try to take him in, figure out where his own groceries are to be in this section, where all this money is coming from, if his address that he put on the file is even anywhere near this area. 

It’s not. 

“Cmon.” Bakugou snaps you out of your trance, big veiny hands holding all of your groceries as he nods his head to the exit. You’re stuck there, wondering if this is really happening, if these are just boundaries being crossed or a crime about to be committed. You feel tears stinging at your eyes as you try to blink them away, hiccuping slightly as you slowly shake your head. 

“Please give me my groceries, Bakugou.” You don’t even recognize your own voice, soft and shaky and purely terrified. Bakugou fixes you with another deadly expression but this time—this time he smiles at you, and its everything but friendly. All big white teeth and too sharp incisors, all falsely charming and all weaponry, all threat with no escape from his drooling maw. 

“I think we should go home, now. Don’t you?” He asks you with a cock of his head, body still turned to the exit, his stature eery with how the veins in his neck throb with every second you stay rooted in your spot. “Before something happens to these nice people in here, right? Before they have to bear witness to a massacre, all because you don’t want to walk home with me.”

You have to bite back your sob that bubbles up in your throat. You’re terrified of what will happen to you, but you’re a caretaker first. You have to put yourself before these people, put yourself before the monster that wants you as a sacrifice before he burns an entire village down for you. 

So you nod, and take the hand offered to you as he switches the groceries to one hand, just to squeeze yours in the other. 

You leave out of the grocery store with tears muddled in your eyes, a quivering chin that you try to conceal, hope no one wants to be a hero and find themselves hurt, or worse, because you can’t school your expressions. 

This was taught in a psychology course you took in college, you remember. One of your classes after you started working on your highest degree—what to do in real life situations as a psychologist. How to avoid more conflict when a patient is erratic. How to deescalate. How to survive. 

Everything you’ve ever learned has gone out the window now. 

You and Bakugou walk down the street hand in hand, looking like a normal couple for the most part, besides your trembling jaw and shaky steps. You glance up to him, watching him squint in the sunlight before he glances down at you, squeezing your hand gently, as if to comfort you, as if he weren’t the cause of your panic. You notice that he’s walking right in the direction of your apartment, as if the route were memorized. 

“How do you know where I live?” You ask shakily, mouth full of cotton as Bakugou keeps his head forward, grinning. He glances at you again, eyes bouncing between the delicate flower tucked behind your ear, and the terrified expression your eyes carry. 

“I should be asking you the same thing.” He shrugs nonchalantly, doesn’t offer up anymore information until you stand outside of your building. “You know, for you to be a therapist to fuckin’ weirdos, you don’t watch your back good enough for my liking.” 

You didn’t think your stomach could sink any lower, but it does. It does when the realization settles, when his words kick in—that he’s been watching you, but for how long? How could you not have noticed? Did he even contact you because he needed help, or was this only a way to grow closer to you, to his obsession?

Before you know it, Bakugou has walked you up the stairs until you reached your floor. Your body turns to instinctively to your door, but you’re pulled in the other direction. 

“Wha—” you go to ask Bakugou, before you notice he’s set your groceries down to fiddle with the key to…to the apartment across the hall from you. You feel the tears flood again, letting them flow this time since no one is around to try and save you and put themselves in harms way anymore. 

“It’s been you? This whole time?” You ask slowly, starting to pull away when Bakugou opens the door to Ms. Hayashi’s apartment, still decorated the same before she mysteriously disappeared—you don’t think its so mysterious anymore.

“Of course it’s been me.” Bakugou scoffs as he grips your hand tighter, pulling you closer until you near the doorway. “I had to watch  over you—do you know how careless you are with everything? With your life?” He snarls, whirling around on you when you plant your feet and try to keep him from pulling you into his lions den. Bakugou is all snarls and teeth, invokes such a deep fear within you that you can’t help but shrink under his gaze. 

“Now come on. I’ve been waiting for this for entirely too long.” His voice is downright salacious, eyes turning sharp and hungry, and in a way that makes you feel like nothing more than hunted prey. 

Bakugou damn near drags you within the apartment, despite your whimpering and pulling at him—he’s just too strong. He walks you a few feet inside before he dumps the groceries on a coffee table, finally letting go of your hand so that he can lock the door, emerging a key from his sweatpants pocket to one of the many, many locks, an insurance policy of you never leaving him unless he allows it. 

You try to put on your therapist boots for a minute, swallowing your fear as you try to reason with him, swallowing thickly when he turns around and takes your trembling form in. 

“Bakugou,” you start shakily, “this doesn’t have to end bad for us. You can just let me go, and we can pretend this never happened. I won’t report you, or anything. Please, please, PLEASE!” 

He comes rushing at you before you know it, on you in seconds, despite trying to turn and outrun him before he pounces. But it’s too late and he’s too big and too overwhelming, and he grabs you up in his arms, shushing your screaming with his mouth pressed against yours. 

So this is what he wants, you think to yourself, terrified to say you’re slightly relieved. You’ve worked with men who liked to torture women for fun, and you were scared that he was secretly one of them, but it looks like he just wants—

“You.” Bakugou whispers with a swallow against your mouth, hot and breathy. “I want you so fuckin’ bad, wanted this for so long, fuck.” He’s wrapping you up within him in seconds, arms crushing your ribs, tongue sneaking into your mouth, hands grabbing handfuls of whatever he can reach. 

You’re stunned, mostly. Finally putting the pieces together of everything that is Bakugou, his coming to you about his obsessions, his secrecy despite needing your help, the way he always looked at you, how he devours you now like a mere schoolboy. It all makes sense now. You pull away from him, eyes round and wide as you take in his lowered ones, how he dives back in to nip at your jaw and chin and cheek. 

“I’m your obsession.” You whisper shakily, hands on his shoulders, despite them making no moves to move the large man back. Bakugou groans at that, damn near sinks to his knees at your realization, wraps you up even tighter as he buries his face into the skin of your neck. 

“Fuckin’ finally. Thought you would’ve caught on sooner by now, dumbass.” He scolds you, licking up the expanse of your skin as you shiver and try to back away. But Bakugou only holds you tighter, and you whimper at the bulge that nudges your hip. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve—could’ve worked on exposure therapy, had someone there to monitor you for our safety, could’ve—”

“Too much work. I just want you.” Bakugou moans, nipping at your skin, grabbing handfuls of your ass when you squeak. He walks you backwards until your back meets a wall, the breath being knocked out of you as you gasp, eyes wide when he finally pulls away from your skin. 

You’ve never seen him like this, all fucked out and relaxed and even a little excited. Always saw him with a bored or irritated expression, one of indifference. But now, Bakugou looks high on euphoria, with kiss swollen lips and low eyelids as he takes in your still shocked expression. 

“Let me taste you,” Bakugou rushes out in a quick breath, diving in once more to lick at your mouth before he pulls away, big hands squeezing at your waist and ass excitedly. He’s like a dog with a bone, like a pup with no master, waiting for you to give the command, the permission to go. 

You wonder if you have more control of this situation than you originally thought. So you try your hand, see how far you can push before you can wiggle your way out of this entire thing and get the chance to call the police. 

“Bakugou,” you start, quickly being cut off by him with a sharp nip to your chin. 

“Katsuki,” he corrects. You nod. 

“Katsuki, if I—if I let you do this, this one thing of…of tasting me, will you promise to let me go?” You try to reason with him, cupping his cheek when his eyes wander over your form instead of your face, leaning into your touch instinctively. 

“We can,” you pause with a swallow. “I can do this. I can create a therapy plan for you, for your obsession over me, and it can be fully consenting and healthy, but you have to let me help you and let me take control.” You try to reason with Bakugou, hope he understands what you’re saying, that he won’t catch on to this just being a trick. But he only groans and turns his head, sucking your thumb into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut at your gasp before he releases you with a pop. He turns half lidded vermillion eyes to you, frowning as he rests his heavy head in your palm. 

“Whatever you fuckin’ say, just let me taste you, goddamnit.” He mutters petulantly. You can only hold your breath, wonder if what you’re agreeing will hurt you in the long run before you nod. 

“You can—you can taste me, Katsuki.” 

You think you might’ve sealed the deal with a devil, with the way you can practically see horns protruding from his forehead and a tail flickering behind him when he drops to his knees. Bakugou is too quick for your liking, yanks your pants around your ankles too fast, hurries you out of them, rips your underwear away from your skin until it tears and falls limply in a pile on the floor. 

You squeak when his face is suddenly pressed right against your cunt, his nose buried into your pubic hair, the sound of a big sniff echoing throughout the room. You can’t help but cringe, but don’t dare push him away—people need to be exposed to all aspects of things in order to overcome them, even if those things are sniffing what lies between your legs. 

“Fuck, smells so good.” Bakugou grunts under his breath, huffing a few times before he forces your legs further apart until you can accommodate the wide expanse of his shoulders. You grunt from the stretch, trying to make yourself comfortable, but Bakugou picks up on it quickly, and grabs your knee to hike your leg over his shoulder to rest on. 

It creates a better angle for him anyway, with your lips glistening with your arousal—you were aroused. Turned on by him just as much as he was with you. You were wet, even if it’s not as much as he would prefer, as he would get you to that amount in only a matter of time. 

You throbbed when his tongue traced the hood of your clit, of your lips, your folds. You twitch hard against his mouth when he keeps licking and licking at you, until your slickness and his spit mingle and he doesn’t know where you end and where he begins. Until it makes a mess of his mouth and chin and the floor below him, and you, with your pretty moans and grabbing hands. 

Bakugou has waited for this moment longer than he can really care to remember, at this point in time. Waited to worship you on his knees, be able to look up from between your soft thighs and see the scrunch of your brows when he sucks your clit between his lips and runs over it with the flatness of his tongue. 

It’s an addictive feeling, really. Makes him feel higher than any drug could ever take him, makes his eyes roll back and his cock throb so hard that he has to grab it from beneath his sweats to keep from busting his load already. 

You can only stand there and take it—take the incessant licking around your hole, and the dipping of his tongue inside of you, and the sweet little kisses he plants on your clit. You try to reason with yourself, convince yourself that this is an improvised session with a client that needed your help so badly that you decided to take him on your day off. Try to tell yourself that this is all apart of the therapy that he needs in order to get over you. 

You only hope that the taste of you doesn’t become so addictive, that your plans for him will go flying out the window the moment you try to reason with him. 

But its hard to reason even with yourself when Bakugou is sliding a thick, middled finger inside of your dripping hole as he noisily sucks your clit between his lips. You cry out at that, knees wobbling, but he’s there to catch you with his free hand, his shoulder. Holds you up steady like a pillar as he lashes his tongue against you, twists his finger, curves it slowly, before he’s adding another one before you can even register what’s happening to you. 

“Shit, Katsuki,” you moan out, cursing yourself for letting him make you feel so good, for getting so wrapped up in this ‘therapy’. You can only hope that the board doesn’t take your license if they were to ever find out about it. 

“Thats it, baby, ride my fingers just like that.” Bakugou breaks you out of your trance with his groan. You hadn’t even realize how your hips were moving against him, grinding down on his digits that curl up inside of you, that slide against that swelling spot that makes your knees weak and your eyes cross.

“Gods, you’re so fuckin’ sexy.” Bakugou whispers against your mound, trailing spit from his mouth down to your clit once more, eyes never leaving the pleasured look on your face. 

Did you know he imagined this, in damn near every session he’s ever had with you? While it wasn’t plenty of sessions (he had only started seeing you about six months ago), it was all he could think of. Every Tuesday at 2:45pm, in office number 218, first door on the right, the mint green office—all he could think of was you. Even when you asked him questions with a professional and friendly smile, even when you were covered head to toe, even when you ripped him a new one for his shitty answers and responses. 

This was all he wanted, all he craved to see. The way your mouth dropped open when he starts damn near directing you in how he wants you to ride his fingers. How your hips move and swivel and tremble when he keeps bringing his fingers close to his face, inside of you. How you grip so tightly at his hair and pull when he won’t stop sucking and licking and messily kissing your clit. How he damn near makes out with your hole, tongue drooling and smacking against your soaked skin until he feels himself about to burst in his pants. 

This was all he wanted, and Bakugou always gets what he wants. Even if its you—especially if it’s you. 

“I’m—oh, I think I’m—shit!” Your brain is damn near fried when you start to orgasm, an earth shattering moan slipping from your throat as you throw your head back, hips bucking against Bakugou’s face and hands. He has to hold your entire body up steadily, fears that you may fall from how hard you’re coming, how you shake in his arms. 

His fingers are steady inside of you, and only slows when you start to finally come down from your high. Bakugou kisses the inside of your thigh sweetly, nibbles at it when you groan and complain about feeling too weak from the intensity. But that’s not a problem for him at all. 

“Hey—what are you—” Bakugou cuts you off with a wet kiss pressed to your mouth when he stands to his full height. His tongue slides against yours and you can’t help but moan when you taste yourself on him. He doesn’t give you a chance to step away and try to slink back to your own apartment, instead hoisting you up quickly in his arms as he starts to walk to a room behind you. 

Before you can protest, you’ve been dumped on the kitchen table, Bakugou pressing you down with a hand to your sternum when you try to sit up, shooting you another one of those eery looks from earlier. You still instantly, before slowly lowering yourself back down on the table, eyes wide again when he levels you with a stare for a beat longer before he steps back to yank his shirt over his head. 

“I thought,” you mumble, trying not to stare at how well built Bakugou is, how his biceps might literally be bigger than your entire head. “I thought that we agreed for you to only, um, taste me, and then you’d stop.” Its hard finding your voice when Bakugou stares at you like that again, not scarily, but hungry like before. Hard to fight back and push him away when he grabs your shirt in two hands and rips and pulls until your torso is exposed, like the fabric meant nothing to him. 

You clench your thighs at the display of strength and hope that he doesn’t notice. (He does). 

Bakugou shrugs at you, pulls your bra down until your tits are on display, grabbing a handful of each and massaging them in warm, sweaty palms. He ducks his head down and gives a sweet kiss to both of your nipples, licking one crudely before he stands back up to his full height, your breasts still in his hands. You think he must’ve forgotten what you said, or simply didn’t care to answer, but he surprises you when he squeezes your tits tightly and speaks, 

“Think I need a little more exposure before I have to be reduced to doses only, doc.” Is all Bakugou gives you, squeezing your chest one last time before he pulls away. You try not to show the panic on your face when he reaches to pull his sweats down until they bunch around his corded thighs, cock damn near bursting from its confinements. 

Bakugou reaches inside of his boxers, biting at his bottom lip when he touches it directly for the first time since he’s gotten you, groans a little at your gasp when he fully exposes himself. He’s thick, curved a little to the side, his head a dark flushed color, a fat vein forking up the side of his shaft. He rests his cock over you, makes a soft little noise in the back of his throat when the precum slides from his tip and pools in the dip of your bellybutton. 

“Shit, I love you so fuckin’ much,” Bakugou mutters under his breath as he positions himself at your entrance. Your eyes bulge at his confession, but before you can even touch on what he’s said, he’s already sliding his way inside of you. 

Your head falls against the kitchen table, the dull pain quiet compared to the overwhelming pleasure that settles low in your pelvis. You groan, thighs hooked around Bakugou’s waist as he fucks his way inside of you, a moan on his tongue as he watches the way your lips split and suck him inside so, so sweetly. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t wait anymore,” Bakugou mutters against your mouth. As he soon as he settles inside of you, he’s pulling out until his tip kisses your entrance, before he fucks his way back in. You shudder, his cock warm and heavy inside of you, his tip brushing against your sweet spot with every stroke until you start to cling to him and ask for more, more, more. 

And Bakugou gives it to you, with feral growls, hiking your legs up higher until they rest on his shoulders, hunching over you with every wet slap of his balls against your ass. The position forces him even deeper, makes your feet dangle entirely too close to your face, Bakugou leaning over to kiss you sweetly on the ankle. 

“So, fuck, what’s the diagnosis, doc?” Bakugou taunts you, grinning down at you when you blink bleary eyes up at him. He’s sweaty and golden and has a halo of light behind his ash blond hair from the overhead light. He’s prettier than you want to admit, but its hard trying to keep a face of professionalism when his cock keeps kissing your sweet spot and his chest pressed against yours makes your nipples harder than rocks. 

“Huh? What happened to that fucking smart ass that would lecture me in our sessions?” He teases, smile wide and feral as he holds your cheeks tightly between his thick fingers. He forces your mouth into a pout, kissing it, when you blabber nonsense up at him. 

“Fucked you dumb already? All those years of college right out the door, huh, baby?” Bakugou’s so mean, makes you whine and claw at his shoulders and nape. You could answer him, give him your professional opinion—not like you even had one in the first place—but he makes it so hard to think. When his cock is balls deep inside of you, when he looks at you with his teasing and yet adoring little grin, when he keeps shaking your face at him with a taunting coo, when he sneaks a hand between your bodies to circle your clit. 

“It’s okay; I can think for you. You don’t have to use that pretty little head even once when you’re with me.” Bakugou’s coos sweetly, reaches down and pecks your forehead and mouth when you whimper pathetically up at him with teary eyes. 

“Gonna cum? Yeah?” He asks you, hips never faltering as he fucks you into the table, his mouth pressed against yours as you grab him tightly, feeling the oncoming orgasm starting to flood your system. 

“Yeah,” you whine softly against his mouth through your puckered lips, making Bakugou groan as he fucks you through your orgasm. You tighten up around him so deliciously, sound so pretty with your fucked out moans and hoarse voice, look so gorgeous all high out of your mind and pliant on his kitchen counter. 

How could he ever remember to pull out?

You try to protest when Bakugou holds you tight and starts to cum inside of you, but your complaints fall on deaf ears. He only holds you tighter against him, groaning loud in the skin of your neck as his cock spurts his hot seed deep inside of you. When he finishes, he collapses on top of you, breathy and sweaty, and you’re in no better position. Its quiet for a while, despite your legs and back aching, and the cooling feeling of his cum starting to spill from around his softening cock still buried inside of you. 

“So,” Bakugou starts, and you’re almost fearful of what he might say next. “Can you start scheduling my appointments to your apartment instead of your office now?” 

You’re at least a little thankful that he has plans to let you go back to your life, even if he’s forcing himself to be apart of every little aspect of it. You nod tiredly, wondering how and if you’re going to tell your boss. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

#—new treat in the streets! 🍫 #bakugou treats! 🍬 #tw: yandere #tw: stalking #tw: dubcon

[luveline]

Hiiiiii!!! Since it’s back to school season you should write a blurb where Steve and Reader get emotional sending Avery to school for the first time in your KBD universe!!

thank you for your request ♡ kisses before dinner —you and steve have a tumultuous morning on avery's first day of school. mom!reader, 3k

"Oh, fuck," Steve mumbles into his pillow, cheek wet with drool. "Shit." He drags his face up to look at the alarm clock for the third time that morning, having slept on and off for hours. He can't believe he's awake again. 

"I think you have to admit defeat," you say softly from the vanity. Steve turns, finds you sitting slouched with a brush in your hands, applying powder to your cheek carefully. "I couldn't sleep either." 

Steve groans at his ever present back ache and sits up. The comforter falls down into his lap, his naked chest exposed. He scratches at his collarbone mindlessly. "You think it'll be really hard?" he asks, knowing you'll know what he's saying. You always do. 

You put down the brush, turning a very sympathetic smile his way. "I think it will be awful. But you'll be okay, Steve. She needs to go. And she's excited!" You nod toward Avery's room. "Can't you hear her?" 

Steve gets up without checking for himself. He slinks out of your bedroom and onto the landing, where Avery's door is ajar. 

"Hey," he says, opening the door with his foot. "You okay?" 

Ash blonde hair like a riot around her face and pyjamas in disarray, Avery sees Steve in the doorway and beams, doing a wiggly half dance by her dresser. "Daddy! It's my first day at school!" 

"I know," he croons, or attempts to, his voice still hoarse from sleep. "I'm just gonna shower, and then we'll start getting ready. You hungry?" 

"Are you still gonna do my hair like mommy's?" she asks. 

"Yeah, just like mom's." 

Steve's reassured by her smile even if he's feeling about as anxious as the day he found out you were pregnant the first time (ecstatic, terrified, in love and bricking it). He showers in three minutes, an expert in the art of wicked fast washing and in anticipation of Dove's imminent waking. Sure enough, he's crossing the landing back to the master bedroom with a towel around his waist when a cry sounds from behind him.

You appear in the doorway dressed for work and somehow prettier than you were yesterday. It doesn't fade no matter what people say, Steve still has a huge crush on you, and it feels like a gift to have you stroke a line down his tacky arm as you pass. 

"I have it, handsome." You take a step back and he pauses on instinct. Your hand cups his face. "It won't be as bad as you're thinking. I promise." You stroke his cheek. "Yeah?" 

"I'm fine," he lies. 

Dove cries louder. You take your hand back. "Okay. Get dressed. I'll make breakfast." 

Steve does as he's told. Bethie tries to barge into the bedroom while he's changing, and he laughs at her dejected sigh. "It's not opening," she says, nearly three and a half and sounding it, her voice still cutely disjointed. 

"I'm just getting dressed, Beth. Mommy's making breakfast, you want waffles or something?" 

"I can't get down the stairs," she mumbles. Steve almost misses it. 

He throws a shirt on and yanks a comb through his hair. Bethie's standing expectantly by the door when he opens it, your image completely. Steve's seen the rare baby photo of you and he's surprised every time; you could switch it out with a photo of Bethie and he's sure he wouldn't notice, though her nose might look a little different. 

"Hey, pretty girl. Trapped?" 

"They'd left me up here with you," she says. 

Talkative this morning, he thinks. "I can see that. Excuse me then, babe, and we'll get this gate open." 

Steve hates the baby gates. He doesn't think they're necessary, but he knows he'd think that until the day one of his poor girls took a dive. You hate them too for being so finicky. Maybe in a couple of months when Dove's walking you'll take them down. 

He opens the gate and takes a few steps, holding a hand out for Bethie. Fingers wrapped around hers, they descend the stairs and approached the second dreaded baby gate where Avery's waiting. She pinches the lock and pulls up the handle for them surprisingly easily. 

"Thank you," he says to her, stepping over the lip of it and assisting Beth down those last few steps. She wobbles. 

"Dad, when can we get ready?" Avery asks. 

Steve checks his watch. "Uh, soon as you finish breakfast." 

"I finished already."

"No you didn't!" you call. "Come on! Come and eat this egg before it goes cold." 

"I wanted a waffle," Avery says. 

"Don't tell me, tell your mom. I'm sure she'll make you something else."

Avery spirits away. Steve watches her go and decides maybe he can't do this after all, sweeping Bethie into his arms to hug close to his chest. "Don't grow up, Beth. Promise?" 

She looks at him lovingly. "Promise." She offers her tiny pinky. 

You're not so stressed in the kitchen. Or, Steve may not think so. Inside you're a ball of agony. You're acting as normal as you can, knowing Steve will take the change harder; he's spent almost every hour of every day with Avery for nearly six years, to suddenly have her gone will feel wrong, and strange, and achy. 

He'll understand how you feel going to work every day. Missing your family becomes a second feeling that trails behind you, not always sad, but there nonetheless. You'll be sitting at your desk wishing a little back was pressed to your chest, or that there were a hand in your hair. Or, when things are especially boring, you long for a whiny shout, "Mommy!" said over and over. 

It isn't his fault, of course, and it's not even the thing that's hurting. Just. Avery's getting older no matter how much you wish she'd stay the same, for a day, an hour. If you could just stop time and hold her for a bit, you'd feel better. 

Time doesn't stop. You make her a waffle and eat her cold egg, Dove spits up on your blazer and you have to get changed. Steve struggles to get Avery ready in her bedroom while Bethie crowds his legs, and you can't help. Your second blazer has a peach juice stain and the third has been personalised with a blue marker. You can't find anything to wear. 

You scrub the spit up off of the shoulder in the bathroom and trudge to Avery's room to ask Steve if he can tell. 

Avery's standing in front of her mirror, and she looks perfect. 

And she looks so old.

Surprise spreads like a bruise, like you've been winded, a flat palm pressing with force against the gentle structure of your diaphragm. You grip the blazer in your hands until the fabric squeaks, eyes on Avery's hair, her shoulders, her new dress and shoes. She spins on her heels when she sees you in the mirror and poses proudly. 

"Doesn't it look nice, mommy?" she asks. 

You frown at her. Your breath catches in your throat, your eyes turning warm, your whole face. "You look really nice, sweetheart," you say, blinking to dispel the moisture in your eyes before it can turn to tears."Daddy did a good job." 

"Are you okay?" Avery asks. 

You try to turn your frown to a smile, the expression one Avery isn't used to seeing. Panicked, she looks to Steve, who's already looking at you tenderly. 

"I'm sorry," you say. It aches in your cheeks. Being a parent means hiding how you feel when it's bad, but you're grasping at the air for a reassurance that isn't there. She's never going to stop getting older. And this is a beautiful thing in reality. 

Right now, it's terrifying. 

"You look lovely," you say, swiping at tears as they tip. "I'm really sorry, Avery, I'm okay. You look so beautiful, honey." 

Steve crouches down by Avery's side, hands on her waist. "This is going to sound silly, because you're so excited about going to school, but me and your mommy are just a little sad." 

"You're sad because I'm going to school?" Avery asks. 

You nod, shame-faced, "A bit." 

"Well, I won't go," she says in confusion.

You close the distance between you and hold her chin in your hand. "You have to go! I want you to go, I promise. I want you to meet new friends, and learn new things. I can't wait for you to see the whole world." 

"Then why are you crying?" she asks. 

You push your thumb into the corner of her mouth and make her smile. "You'll understand when you're older," you say. 

She groans. "Mom, I want to know now." 

"I can't explain it." You kiss her soft forehead. "Sorry." You kiss her forehead again. "Sorry. You really look beautiful, and I know you're going to have a good day. They won't know what to do with you." 

You arranged to start work late so you can see her off for her first day and help if drop off becomes too much for Steve to do alone. Now that Avery's old enough for school, she'll need to be dropped off and picked up everyday, and your working hours don't allow for you to do it. This means Steve will have to get all three girls ready every day. They can't wait in the car by themselves. It's a lot more than he's used to doing, which isn't to say he doesn't keep his girls clean and clothed in fresh jammies. He takes them grocery shopping and to the movies and Aunt Robin's house by himself all the time, it's not a difficult task (most of the time) but it takes work. It's going to be a lot for him. 

He can do it, obviously. You just wish you could be more helpful. You tried to talk your boss into an earlier start time so you could finish in time to grab Avery and save him the trip, but it meant you'd start work at 6AM. Nobody would be there to let you in, and it was deemed 'unfeasible'. 

You worry about it on the ride there. Three girls in car seats, you in the front, they're hard to handle. Avery's far away in the very back, the third row, while Dove whines in the second, Bethie behind you asking if she can come and sit in your lap. 

"Sorry, lovely. Two minutes, okay? Two minutes and we'll be there." 

Steve shouts over your placating, "How are you feeling, Avey-Bear?" 

"I feel good, dad!" 

"It's the left entrance, right?" Steve asks you. 

"Yeah, with the big crayon mural. Dove, I know! I can see it! Is it too tight? Let mommy have a look." 

You lean through the seats. Steve takes a hand from the wheel to hold your side up and stop you from collapsing forward as you fiddle with Dove's seat straps. This chaos cannot be a good sign, you think.

You pull into the lot. Kids are everywhere, hundreds of them flooding toward the elementary school like ants carving paths through grass and sidewalk. The air smells like pine trees as you step out of the car. 

While grizzly, you're pleased to find that your girls look good. Smart, well-loved. You grab Bethie, her seat behind yours, and Steve takes Dove. Avery unclasps her own car seat and climbs over the second row to slide out by your legs. 

"Nice job, babe," you say, holding up your hand. Avery high fives you. 

Soon as Steve's ready, you take Avery's hand with Bethie perched as a heavy weight on your hip. She's too big to need carrying and you'll have to put her down sooner rather than later, but for now you hold her, mind racing as she asks, "Mommy, do I go with Avery?" 

"No, sweetheart, I'm sorry. Avery's going by herself." 

And what the fuck? you think, looking down at Avery where she squeezes your hand, the skirt of her dress swishing side to side as she skips. How can she be doing this by herself? She doesn't seem old enough. How can anybody expect her to do this? 

Bethie rests her cheek on your shoulder. "That's OK. I want to be with you." 

She's not going to be pleased in another half an hour, then, but that's a future problem. 

Steve trudges behind you like a man walking to his death. You're not exaggerating when you think to yourself about how pale he's gone, his cheeks devoid of any colour. 

You follow the path past the school gates and into its playground. Most kids stay waiting with their parents while younger ones crowd the jungle gym, though there are some you recognise from playgroups and the local playground. You've accidentally cut it a bit close, not expecting the girls to be as hard to get into the car as they'd been, and the bell rings to call everyone inside only thirty seconds later. 

Children call goodbye to their parents. Avery had an orientation day a little while ago and knows where she has to go, but for the first time that morning, she hesitates. 

"You okay?" Steve asks her. 

She looks between you both and her sisters with a funny kind of smile. Altogether too grown up. "Will it be okay?" she asks. 

"What, school?" he asks. "School is going to be awesome. You are going to have so much fun." 

She licks her lips, thinking. You step forward ro fuss with her hair, every bit of it perfect. She looks up into your face and you plaster a smile over your worries. The longer you look at her, the more authentic it becomes. 

"You make things amazing everywhere you go. School won't be any different," you promise. 

"Quick, kiss before you go to the classroom," Steve says. 

You get yours first. Avery goes on tiptoes to kiss you, then Bethie, who laughs. Steve crouches down to get his, stealing a too-long hug with her as Dove wriggles under his arm. 

"Love you." Steve pats her shoulder. "See you in a couple of hours. We'll go get a treat for you being this brave." 

Avery holds her lunchbox to her stomach and nods excitedly. "Okie dokie. I love you." She waves at Dove. "Bye-bye, Dove." 

Dove looks at Avery like she's an alien. Her confusion lasts, lips puckering into a pout as Avery races toward the school door and disappears from view. 

"Ready to go?" you ask Steve gently. 

"I think I'll just… we'll just wait for a bit, in case she forgot something."

You fight another wave of heat as it gathers behind your eyes. Steve looks so sad that it's making you sad too. "Sure, honey. Let's wait a bit." 

You aren't expecting Avery to have actually forgotten something, but she rockets from the door looking terrified. Steve seems surprised that she really needed something too, though he doesn't waver. 

"We're still here," he calls as she runs up to you. 

"Dad," she says, breathless, putting her hand on his knee, "what do I say?" 

"To who?" 

"To the other girls!" 

Steve rubs her cheek with a forefinger fondly. "Hello is a good start. You could say… Hi, I'm Avery Harrington. I have two little sisters, a pet fish, and my favourite colour is lilac." 

She nods like she thinks this is a great idea. "I'm Avery, and I have two sisters and my fish and my favourite colour is lilac," she repeats verbatim. "What about you and mom?" 

Steve blinks, pleased. "Uh." 

You grin, saying, "What about, my mom and dad are best friends?" 

Avery nods again, little chin dipping severely. "My mom and dad are best friends. Okay. Okay, thank you, I'm going back now." 

Steve steals another kiss before she can run off. "Have a good day, honey."

"I will!" she shouts, spinning on her heel. You listen to her leave, her lunchbox making a metallic clicking sound, her shoes squeaking on paving stones. 

She's gone a full minute before either of you attempt to leave, a strange silence between you. Eventually Steve wraps his arm around your shoulders, and you make your way back to the car. 

"You okay?" you ask him. 

He's pink around the eyes, but he says, "I'm okay. She looked really excited, right?" 

You kiss his cheek. "It'll be alright." 

"I know. Just feel really fucking weird." 

Bethie claps a hand over her mouth with a little pop. Steve imitates her, eyes glowing with bemusement. "Who said that?" he asks. 

She giggles in that syrupy way kids do when they know they're doing something naughty. "That's a bad word." 

"I'm allowed one bad word today, Bethie. They said so." 

"Who?" Bethie asks. 

Steve shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. You expect me to know everything, little miss, how'm I supposed to know everything?" 

Bethie wraps an arm behind your neck. 

"What's he doing to you?" you ask, arms on fire from carrying her this long and with no intent to put her down. "Daddy's not being very nice, is he? Asking my little girl all these big questions." 

Your soft crooning has her like jelly in your arms. Steve relaxes in turn looking at her, his hands petting at Dove's back. "They're ganging up on me," he says to her, in a similar sweet tone, searching Dove's face for some affection. "You're not going to pick their side, are you?" 

Dove pouts for a kiss. 

Steve is ecstatic, Dove never so generous. He kisses her gently, and rubs his forehead against hers to tickle her with his hair. 

"Mommy's gotta go to work," you remind him. 

"Do you?" he asks, not looking up from Dove's affection. 

"Unfortunately." 

"They're taking my girls from me one by one. I thought missing you every day was bad enough, now I don't get my Avery… I hate everything." 

"I know. It doesn't feel this awful all the time, I promise." 

He makes a grateful sound. "I'll take your word for it. Thanks, honey." 

You squeeze his bicep. "You're welcome." 

#kisses before dinner universe #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x reader #dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #steve harrington x afab!reader #afab!reader #mom!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff

[https-furina]

✎ when you love someone. ft. lyney x fem!reader content: heavy angst, death/murder, fontaine archon quest spoilers, detail to injury, ooc lyney while i’m practising. not proofread. w.c. tba.

there's a melancholic harmony that comes with dating that infamous, ash blond magician who's name is uttered from every fontainian's mouth across the country. 'he's miraculous!' they exclaim, eyes glittering like stars as they leave the opera epiclese, grins wide on their faces. he truly is, you think to yourself as you follow the crowds out on some evenings after witnessing your boyfriend's abilities for the nth time. yet you also know better than this. the lies intertwined between soft kisses shared in the moonlight and the forced smiles he'll throw in anyone's direction.

lyney knows better too when he fumbles for his house key, a gloved hand fishing into his pockets to pull out the cold metal. a prospect he never thought he'd grasp when he devoted himself to the orphanage beside his sister, starved and defensive. there's almost a pained smile on his face when he calls out to you that he's home. at this hour of the night, the court of fontaine is a quiet city, especially in this quarter. the night life clings to the hotels that bustle with activity, drinks and other numerous acts that people indulge themselves in to drown their pains out - but he knows that the house he'd made a home with you was never this quiet.

it's a strange thought to him that you'd ever go to bed without waiting up for him first - that was your favourite routine, curled up on the couch with a plate of fresh conch madeleines you'd baked earlier in the day. a crocheted blanket would be draped over your bare legs, one of lyney's own white dress shirts hanging flimsily from your frame with the buttons done up. he would grin at the imagery if only it wasn't for the slow, tense anxiety creeping up his spine, leaving a trail of hairs standing on edge at the silence you'd left him with.

"ma chérie?" he calls out again, that sweet nickname rolls from his tongue like it has a thousand times before since you started dating. it's familiar, it tastes warm and like your homemade cooking you'll bring to him before his shows - a comfort he'll cherish no matter how much his acts crumble him.

you knew months into speaking with lyney that he worked for the fatui behind that whimsical act of a magician. you remember that tight feeling that choked your lungs for breath, you remember the vivid way the corners of your vision darkened and his words echoed in your head. he looked so pitiful, his brows knit together and a beautiful glitter to his lilac eyes when he's on the brink of tears from your lack of response.

growing up, you recall the stories your parents and elders had spat in distaste regarding the fatui - snezhnayan scum, good-for-nothings, troublemakers that cause nought but harm wherever they go. you truly believed that lyney was none of these, how could he be? he'd swooned you so lovingly after one of his shows on a starry night, having caught your eyes in his audience. he claims it was love at first sight, the cheesy phrase making you giggle whenever he'd reference it. he'd whispered sweet nothings in your ear the first night you'd shared a bed together, fingers dusting down your body in feather light touches like he considered you porcelain.

surely these were things that proved his innocence? that proved the truth in his words when he first mumbled 'i love you' against your soft lips midway through a kiss? you gave him his chance and lyney was determined to not let his affairs as a fatui member ruin what he had with you. things were perfect for the upcoming year, even if that smile he flashed to anyone who looked in his direction was so fake that you could almost grimace.

it is not lyney that anyone should have doubted the faithfulness of - the safety that his arms brought you. it is the fatui, the harbingers, the organisation that tears lives apart for their personal gains. it's the promises to protect their members' families and loved ones that fall on deaf ears yet feed their members' minds with relief and keeps that every faltering loyalty in check. they have them wrapped around gloved fingers that are ready to snap at any moment.

lyney kicks off his boots by the front door, twirling his hat as he hangs it next to your coat. in his younger years, he'd debated what the meaning of love was. he'd thought over the concept of a home - of four walls that were safe and permanent. every time something took a wrong turn in his life, he considered if he was capable of being loved, perhaps if he was even capable of loving too. if there was one thing he was certain from his time with you, it was that you'd proved him wrong.

his legs carry him tiredly up the staircase, his footsteps light as he steps over a particular floorboard he has memorised that creaks - just in case you'd truly gone to sleep without him tonight. the silence is deafening, he can't even hear the faint sounds of your breathing from your shared bedroom where the door is cracked open and the moonlight floods out like a liquid river. he glimpses red through the crack and his brow furrows in concern, picking up the pace of his steps.

the world you'd built with lyney crashes down the moment his hand - free of its glove - pushes the bedroom door further open and his eyes fall onto your body. you're limp on the floor, laid on the soft, fur rug you'd begged lyney to buy when you were furnishing your first home together. he still vividly remembers the beam you gave him when he caved and agreed. there's a pool of blood around you, drenching that cream fur and seeping into the floorboards beneath you. it's oxidising, darkening - how long had you been here like this?

lyney falls to his knees beside you, your blood soaking through his stockings and wetting his skin but he shrugs the uncomfortable feeling away when his hands push you onto your back, your head rolling to the side limply. your eyes are white, rolled back but there's a look of fear written across your face and lyney's eyes begin to sting with the idea that you'd been scared in your final moments; no, he refuses to accept that you're dead. you're simply injured, passed out - he'll get you to a doctor and he'll never let you out of his sight again.

but the waterfall of red that decorates your neck and stains his white shirt he knew you'd be wearing tell him otherwise. his hands clasp at your cheeks, cupping the cold skin as his thumbs desperately rub at you in hopes that you'll come to, smiling and reassuring him. he blinks the tears in his eyes away but all they do is fall down his pale cheeks in precious streams of emotion when he doesn't wake up. he doesn't open his eyes again to see sunlight streaming through the light fabric of your bedroom curtains. he doesn't hear his favourite laugh in the whole of teyvat when you notice he's woke up. the silent atmosphere is still very much present, tense and ready to be sliced with a knife.

the only sounds are lyney's jagged breaths, desperate as he starts to hyperventilate to get air into his lungs. he presses his ear to your chest, not caring if his blond locks fall into your blood as he frantically searches for your pulse, a sign of life. there is not even a shallow breath that falls from your chapped lips.

you had taught lyney many things in the time you'd devoted at his side, things that the fatui could never teach him. you taught him how it feels when you love someone but as he releases a pained cry into the night, you'd also taught him the anguish that comes from the decision of trusting the fatui the way he had before.

© https-heizou 2023.

#꒰꒰・♡ cold cases #https-heizou #genshin lyney #genshin impact lyney #lyney x reader #lyney angst #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #fem!reader #tw death

[yuan4i]

01. what did i walk in on?

“hey, pretty boy…i’d like 2 more shots of pink whitey and then i’ll close my tab.” you mumbled to the bartender. your eyes were teary and wet, eyes glistening under the light at the bar table. “you sure? you look pretty drunk, miss…” the bartender asked you with a worried expression. “what do you mean! i’m the soberest person here at this very moment!" you exclaimed. “alright alright, whatever you say… your total comes to 300 primos. shall i put that on your card?” “... yeah sure, whatever. see you next time, pretty boy.” 

you stumbled out of the bar, walking to the dormitory of your school thinking about the money you’ve spent on drinks. 300 primos? all you drank was a glass of raspberry vodka, pineapple tequila and 3 shots of pink whitey… you didn’t want to return to your dorm, you didn’t want your roommate, lumine, to be concerned and ask why you were drinking so much again. you didn’t want to tell her about your argument with your boyfriend nor did you want her to worry so much about you. instead, you made your way to your friend, lynette’s dorm room. 

soon enough, you arrived at the dorm building and went up the stairs to lynette’s room. you knocked on her door, hoping she’d be awake this late during a school night. “please please please open the door-” “uh, hi? i’m sorry but, do i know you?” a person with short ash blonde hair that looks similar to your friend, lynette, opens the door. tears welled in your eyes again as you looked away from the man. “oh… hi, sorry to disturb you but is lynette here?” you asked him, trying your best not to cry in front of a guy you just met. “i’m sorry but no… she went out for a quick errand.” he replied, sympathetically. “ah… okay. could you please tell her to call me once she comes back? sorry again for bothering you at such a late time at night.” 

you turn around with tears starting to dribble down your eyes until- “wait! don’t go yet. here, come in. you can stay here and wait for her if you’d like.” stay and wait for her? you were willing to do that but you didn’t want to bother a stranger you just met, especially on a school night. “i’m lyney… lynette’s older brother. please, come in.” your ears perked up. lynette has an elder brother? you’ve known her for at least 3 years and she has never mentioned a single word about her brother… or her family. “thank you…” 

now you’re crying on their couch, with lyney sitting beside you. “if you don’t mind me asking, what happened?” he asked you, trying his best to comfort you. you looked over to him, frowning. “oh! uh, i mean- if you don’t want to tell me then you obviously don’t need to! it’s just that i can’t have someone with a pretty face like yours crying!” he nervously rambled out. your face flushed at his words, “really…?” “yes, of course!” after that, you gave in. 

“my boyfriend and i had an argument…i expressed to him how i didn’t like how he acts towards me and other people when he’s upset.” you began.  “i told him that i didn’t like how he takes his anger out on others, including me… then he proceeded to call me annoying and needy! i was so upset to the point where i immediately retorted and called him so not so nice stuff. it ended with him walking out my dorm… i never intended on having a huge argument with him!” now you were crying even more than before, trying your hardest to wipe away all your tears. 

“oh my dear… you’re quite in a pickle! i’m sorry you're going through that. but may i ask if he still brings you joy? do you feel like you have to walk on eggshells around him just to not make him mad or upset? partners should be able to communicate with each other. he shouldn’t be getting pissed at you communicating with him how you feel. he should listen and talk it out with you to find a solution. if he isn’t willing to listen without getting angry how are you gonna discuss anything else?” lyney said, opening a new box of tissues. 

“sometimes people have their own things to sort out before they are ready to date and it sounds like he isn’t ready to be dedicated to someone else if he lets his anger out on you or gets mad when you try and tell him what he does wrong.” he pulls out a tissue from the box and wiped your eyes. “i’ll brew you some tea, though i doubt it’ll be as good as what lynette would make! feel free to rest on the couch, i'll be with you shortly.” 

ANGEL EYES ✿ prev ❀ masterlist ❀ next

lyney x reader SYNOPSIS you’re at a bar, drinking your heart out after another having a feud with your boyfriend of 2 years. you later stop at your friend’s house to stay the night but… the one who opens the door isn’t her but instead, her brother…?

notes : dudeee i'm soso sorry that the first chapter was written so long :c i know this is a smau but i just HAD to write this chapter for it to make sense... lmk if there are any grammar/spelling mistakes!

#⁺◟✿ angel eyes : lyney x reader #lyney x reader #lyney smau #lyney genshin impact #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smau #genshin smau #genshin impact smau

[tired-biscuit]

i think bakugou likes to be babied a little bit.

nothing too drastic, of course, i'm thinking about some simple cuddling behind closed doors after he's had a very long, very tiring day at work. with him pressing you tightly against the mattress of your shared bedroom late at night; your legs comfortably spread just wide enough for him to fit his burly body in-between, and whose hefty weight you can feel resting on your stomach and chest the moment he lands it there.

so all of it is so simply cozy; intimate. your souls are merging without either of you putting in the effort to actually meld them, further strengthening the bond between you. running your fingers through his thick hair that's still slightly damp from the shower he's just finished taking, you stare at the dark ceiling with a sleepy smile ghosting over your lips as you listen to your boyfriend's breathing. it's turned slow, almost languid.

peaceful.

moments pass as the shadows continue to dance on the bedroom walls, and your sleepy smile breaks into a grin when he inhales deeply and sighs in the exact same way most dogs do when they're tired from a long day of playing outside. his skin is completely bare underneath the thin duvet; so warm. he's got nothing else on except for the thin golden chain that you've gifted him as an anniversary present for your fourth year together, and that's now dangling loosely around his neck.

the pretty jewellery is also warm to the touch as you untangle your hand from the ash blonde spikes to stroke down the back of his neck instead. there's no pendant. you didn't want it to be too tacky because you know he prefers to keep things simple, but who knows... maybe he'll add to the gold by hanging a ring on it someday. maybe.

the corners of your mouth twitch at the thought as the heel of your palm glides along the valley of his spine, following along the subtle dip in-between his broad shoulders which you've completely memorized by now. your fingers trace the familiar remnants of his past scars; some thin and barely visible, others so deeply etched into him that they'll surely brand him until the day he dies.

rubbing his bare skin like this fills the room further with his potent scent. he smells fresh; like citrus and something pleasantly sharp that you can't possibly pinpoint for the life of you, but you know it barely matters because it'll all be overtaken by the signaturely sweet smell of caramel at some point anyway.

all that matters is the touch you give. the contact you provide.

so neither of you talks as you hold him like this. you just anchor him; petting him all over, and allowing him to piece himself back together in the dark in his own pace. he's content with just listening to the sound of your heartbeat as it gently lulls him to sleep, is satisfied by feeling your hands stroke him all over his back; coaxing the strained, aching muscles there to finally relax.

he loves you so much, he hopes you know that. you're the only one who gets to see him so vulnerable like this. who still hears him even without a single word uttered into the darkness, who gets to hold him like he's a small kitten in dire need of help, instead of a supposed brute of a man, who's inching towards his thirties and who should apparently serve as his own pillar as far as social norms go.

but fuck social norms, truly. he holds onto you a little bit tighter as sleep begins to creep up on him, calloused fingers sneaking underneath the hem of your dynamight t-shirt just so he can stroke your sides a little bit before he passes out. he does it so that he can pay you back, at least in some way for staying up so late and waiting for him to return home safely. for actually giving him a sense of home to return to in the first place.

and oh, how sweet; your heartbeat quickens at his touch, he can hear it. it kisses his cheek, repeatedly pecking the skin that's been tinted with a shade of soft pink because of the warmth shared between you. it's calming and soothing to him, just like your doting hands are. just like your very existence is.

so bakugou finally allows himself to fall asleep because of the comfort your existence provides, with his consciousness ridden of the many horrors his job brings. nothing matters but you and your touch, and the sound of your heart, and your breathing, your warmth and your scent. all of it together wipes his mind entirely clean.

still, there's only one more fleeting thought that flashes through him before he fully succumbs to his dreams. one that brings a mere hint of a smile upon his lips.

you love him, too. you truly do.

#katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bnha x reader #biscuit drabbles #bakugou x reader

[hollythius]

of red cheeks like pomegranate halves

lyney x reader. multi-chapter. (hopefully)

holly’s notes: sorry guys. i just think he’s silly. now you have to deal with it. i haven’t played much of genshin lately, nor have i ever heard a voice line of this man, so please bear with me. 🙏

tldr: pining. so much pining. sort of friends with benefits, implied ‘relations’ if you know what i mean, bad attempts at poetry, kisses, angst + fluff, reader is technically a poet but isn’t expanded on much, hidden/secret relationship. I WROTE THIS IN LIKE 30 MINS HELP. does anyone want a part two. i will write it. i prommy.

“archons, lyney— let me go,” you huff. his arms wrap tightly around your waist, his long-sleeved pajamas brushing against your bare skin. your partner barely hums, his attention nowhere but in the pleasant dreams you’re certain he’s having.

his fingers trace gently along the dips and curvature of your body, wandering a path familiar to him only. lyney is ever the risk taker, having you here. in his room, his siblings not far off within the confines of the house. you groaned again at the thought of finding your clothes on the messy floor and trekking out the window to the chilly morning weather.

but it’s the agreement between you two. he is your magician, and you his poet. his lips kiss only yours. your fingers only pull and tug at his ash-blond tresses. you blow off a little steam, and then return to the cold, shocking morning.

lyney is always clingy. it’s how he is. you don’t dare fight it, lest it worsens for you. he’d almost blown your cover numerous times; his voice too loud, his gestures too grand, or the look in his eyes too longing.

“lyney, i need to leave,” you say again, this time almost begging. finally, your midnight lover relents, rolling over in bed to grant you room to exit. you huff, figuring that was far easier than normal. you spend no extra time gathering your clothes and slipping them on, only to climb down the window.

when lyney wakes, the bed is cold. he finds himself feeling impossibly empty, a feeling that has become more prominent as of late. he finds it ironic— your absence has left the magic dulled, and he longs to create prose adequate to describe his emotions. perhaps one day you’d teach him to rhyme in ways that didn’t make readers cringe.

his eyes drifting to the pillow, imagining your sleeping face still resting there. maybe, if he was lucky, you’d flash him a grin with just a little too much teeth. then, he’d laugh at you softly, place a hand on your cheek, and kiss your lips. that would remain a dream, however, until he’d gathered the courage to profess his undying love for you.

and now, as he dresses himself for the day’s magic show, he smiles. you’ll be there, like you always are. toting around a notebook, jotting down scenes to describe in future poems. lyney glances at the bookshelf in his room, at the few volumes of your poetry that reside there. he keeps them lined in order of publication. you’d never seen them, or you’d never made it known that you had.

but lyney was content. whatever you had, whatever situation yours was, he was perfectly fine with keeping it. he greets his siblings with a big smile, gleaming and ready to perform. lynette shrugs him off, and freminet gives a shaky grin back.

lyney can’t wait to see you again, eyes on him and engrossed in his show. gasps falling from your lips as you watch from the front row of seats. he smiles again, heart fluttering. he’d have to do something about these feelings.

#.hollies #lyney x reader #lyney x y/n #lyney x you #lyney x gender neutral reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

[heartandfangs]

HALOS, HORNS & EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN.

GENRE Roommate AU, Smut, Hint of Romance

PAIRING Jongseong/Jay x Fem!Reader x Heeseung

WARNINGS 18+ ONLY MDNI, Threesome, Cursing, Jealousy, Breast worship (what’s new), Making out, Oral sex (f!receiving), Mention of food, Light biting, Daddy kink, Role play, Cum eating/swapping, Unresolved feelings, Dom!Jay, SoftDom!Heeseung, PowerSub!Reader, HeeJay are pervs

SUMMARY After several long months of ignoring the angel and devil living across the hall, said roommates take matters into their own hands to please you on your special day. 

WORD COUNT 4k

AUTHOR’S NOTE This one’s simple but kinda crazy?? ngl I REALLY got carried away with the wc for this first request, but I’m going to try and keep the others shorter so I can get through them quicker. Definitely felt less pressure while writing this for fun tho. Happy birthday 🪶 anon! I took some artistic liberties with your simple request lmao, but hope you and everyone enjoy it regardless (if it’s not ur cuppa tea dw!) 🖤🤍🖤🤍 

See end for cont. author’s note.

Masterlist

© 2021-2023, Heart and Fangs. All rights reserved. Do not translate or post anywhere.

After an incredibly rough week of work, you’d completely forgotten to switch off your alarm last night so you could sleep in for your birthday. It was your long-awaited day. 

“The fuck,” You groaned before tapping the screen of your phone to silence the obnoxious sound. 

Clambering and scurrying footsteps could be heard outside your bedroom and in the shared kitchen. A nagging feeling in your stomach told you that you wouldn’t be allowed back to sleep any time soon. 

After about a minute, you noticed the sound of your roommates gathering outside your door— then knuckles tentatively rapping against it.

You pulled your duvet over your head and curled up tighter onto your side, refusing to answer. 

Another knock.

It was more insistent this time, annoyingly so. 

“What?” Your grumpy tone made it known that they were unwelcome visitors this early in the morning. 

Please go away…

Jay, seemingly unbothered by your attitude, cracked open the door, surveying your condition before swinging it wide open to reveal a birthday cake in his hand. 

Heeseung didn’t look any better than you in his black sweatsuit set and cowlicked ash-gray hair hiding his half-lidded eyes. Jay more than likely dragged him out of bed to help him prepare your surprise, yet he still gave you a smirk behind Jay’s shoulder and flashed you a peace sign. 

With a mischievous smile, Jay strode to the edge of your bed wearing a typical pair of gray sweatpants and a black tank, his lean arms on display. “Morning, birthday girl.” 

Heeseung made his way in and released a handful of red and pink balloons that floated to the ceiling; you’d think it was Valentine's Day or something. “Happy birthday, ___.”

Slowly, you dragged yourself up to sitting, keeping your blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You rubbed your eyes, “I can’t believe I sabotaged myself with my alarm today.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Jay balanced the cake in one hand as he kneeled on the floor by your bed and ran a hand through his pale blonde hair, “And well, now you just have more of your day to enjoy. But first, cake.”

Of course, they knew better than to sing. You sighed and stared down at the simple, pink-frosted cake piped with red dollops in a heart-shaped border. 

In the center was written in red frosting:

u can’t pick ur dad

but u can pick ur daddy(s)

hbd!!!

You snorted and pressed a hand to your lips, raising an eyebrow at the two. Grammatically, it didn’t even make any sense, but you guessed it wasn’t supposed to. 

“What the hell is this? Which of you—” You barely managed to get out, shoulders shaking from laughter as you eyed Heeseung and gave Jay a look of scrutiny, “Or should I even bother to ask?”

In return, Jay playfully swiped the pads of his fingers across the corner of your lips, effectively smearing a bit of pink cream onto your skin. 

“Hey—“ Despite flinching, your tongue automatically darted out to sample the rich semi-sweet frosting, eyes widening in approval, “Mm!”

Jay chuckled and licked the remaining frosting off of his thick fingers, watching as you quickly averted his gaze, “I baked and decorated it. Obviously. But this guy stalked your Pinterest boards and saw something similar. So that’s how we got the idea, I guess.”

“Stalked? I just follow her,” Heeseung insisted, twirling the pink ribbon from a balloon around his finger. The two of them glanced at each other, and despite being touched by the sentiment, you paused.

While you had some pretty questionable content saved to the boards on your account, you definitely couldn’t have known Heeseung bothered to keep an eye on them.

What else did they see?

“Oh— how thoughtful of you,” You glanced over at the culprit, who suddenly found your carpet fascinating.

Jay cleared his throat and gestured the candle-lit cake towards you, its dancing flames taunting you, “Well, make your wish before the candle wax melts all over it, ___. Anything you want?”

“Hm,” You casually stretched your arms and shrugged off your blanket to reveal your gym shorts riding up your thighs as you crossed your ankles, “So if I wished for you both to leave me alone right now, you’d grant my wish?”

Heeseung untangled his finger from the balloon ribbon, blinking in surprise just as Jay’s shoulders slumped slightly, a flicker of hurt unexpectedly crossing his features. The blond pressed his lips together and stood to his feet. 

“Well, if that’s what you want. We’ll leave you be.”

“Jay…”

He nearly bumped into Heeseung on his way out but stopped at the sound of your sultry voice. 

Heeseung seemed enraptured as you gnawed at your lips and ushered Jay back with a simple look and tilt of your chin. The younger man’s gaze settled on the stretch of your thin cotton shirt over your breasts, and you felt yourself flush.

“I’m fucking with you both. Bring my pretty cake back.”

Both of them seemed to perk up as though they misheard you before trying to cover up how your choice words affected them.  

Jay huffed at your smug grin, “Go on then, blow it out, princess.”

With a roll of your eyes, you leaned forward and blew out the candles lined along the top of the rosy pink cake, leaving a trail of smoke in the air. 

“There, I made my wish. Thank you, boys.”

The last word seemed to grate on Jay’s nerves, with the way he haphazardly slid your cake onto your desk. 

“Hey, be careful. Why wouldn’t you handle your hard work with care? I’m gonna eat that later,” You quipped. 

“What was your wish?” Jay dared to ask, crossing his arms as he leaned back onto your desk. 

That earned him a weird look from you. 

“You can’t just ask her that,” Heeseung nudged Jay in his side and took the opportunity to sit next to you, the mattress dipping under his weight. Heeseung was a bit intimidating in size, but his proximity didn’t make you uncomfortable in the slightest— or so you liked to tell yourself. “We’re not done with your gifts yet.”

You faced him and leaned back on your hand, placing the other atop your thighs, skin suddenly prickling with goosebumps. “No?”

Heeseung couldn’t help the subtle smile playing at his lips due to the unnecessary but predictable tension between you and Jay, “We know the extra attention isn’t your favorite, but just for today, don’t fight it.”

“What do you mean? Don’t fight what exactly…?” You continued to feign confusion, feeling your heart thump erratically as Heeseung tucked your messy hair behind your ears and dragged his soft caress along your warm cheeks.

You felt a sense of adoration in his touch, those languid eyes of his melting into your own so you wouldn’t have doubts about what was to follow. 

“This,” The manner in which Heeseung moved against you was gentle but confident, his moist lips capturing yours as though he didn’t want a second with you to go to waste but still knew he could take his time with you. 

How could you fight such a sweet kiss?

Not long after, Heeseung began to playfully prod his tongue along your inner cheek before swirling it against yours, slowly dropping his palms down your delicate neck, then even lower, until he found your soft breasts. The squeeze of his warm hands around them sent a jolt through your body and tightened the knot in your belly; you couldn’t help but arch your back to press closer to him with an airy moan.

It took a second before you realized the gravity of what you were doing with your shyest roommate and steadied yourself against his chest. “Heeseung—”

Then you felt a rougher set of fingers hook underneath your jaw and steal you away from Heeseung’s kisses. 

Jay stood over you and held you in place, pressing a frosting-dipped thumb past your lips, the flavor awakening your tastebuds once more. 

“Suck,” Jay commanded under his breath, which was somehow more intimidating than if he were to shout it. As he pushed the pad of his thumb down onto your wet muscle, you obediently closed your lips around the knuckle of his finger and met his keen eyes.

He nodded approvingly, “That’s a good girl.”

It was common for the two of you to always give each other a hard time, but if he ever overstepped his boundaries, he always made up for it through an unexpected warm gesture or a home-cooked meal the next day once things had simmered down. He wasn’t as much of a hardass as he let on.

At first, Heeseung appeared to be the most laid-back and benevolent of you three, but you always figured he was more of a maverick than one might initially guess. It wasn’t until he started playing clever pranks on you after a couple of months of getting to know him that you realized you’d finally cracked through that bashful exterior of his.

Although the three of you shared an undeniable chemistry that allowed you to live together as roommates without entirely wanting to rip each other’s throats out, neither of them had ever made a move on you before— and you couldn’t have ever guessed they’d make a move on you together.

Were there signals over the months that you’d missed? Looking back, yes, that might’ve been the case— but you’d chosen to ignore them due to an inability to make up your mind. Perhaps that’s why things were getting out of hand; you’d driven the two of them up the wall, and they had no choice but to retaliate.

All you could do right now is try to make it through whatever they had in store for you… and somehow, you didn’t mind that. 

“Hate it?” Jay asked.

Judging by your heavy eyelids and the sweet hum of your voice vibrating against his digit, he had an idea that it was quite the contrary.

“Figured,” Jay removed his thumb from your mouth with a pop and leaned over to pull you against his lips for a crushing kiss of his own.

He was all heat and didn’t hesitate to tug your lips between his teeth or shove his tongue against yours until you were red in the face, gasping for air and more of him simultaneously. 

“Mmh— Jay!”

He gave you a haughty look and continued to make a mess out of you, ruthlessly nipping at your ear and down your neck, knowing that you enjoyed the roughness of his affection. It almost killed you when he slowed down a bit, eyes flickering open to stare at you with his forehead pressed to yours, breathing the same air as you.

Right then, you felt Heeseung mouth over the fabric of your shirt, gradually coaxing your nipple to hardness. With the moan you rewarded him with, he grew bold and pulled the fabric over your breasts to take the one closest into his mouth, suckling sweetly around it.

You swore your nipples had a direct connection to your clit because it pulsed against your tight shorts and made you sink your fingers into tufts of Heeseung’s dark grey hair with a whimper.

Of course, Heeseung would be the one to make you give in.  

After seeing your lovely reactions to his other roommate’s ministrations, Jay promptly kneeled on the bed and caught your other nipple with his soft lips. You cried out as he released it with a smack, only to continuously flick at the tip with his tongue, sending you into oblivion. 

The two boys worked in tandem to pleasure you, tugging at your delicate nipples and laying kisses on your burning skin, the delicious sounds of their mouths worshiping your body falling on your ears. How they had their own ways of going about it made you feel even more cherished by the two. This was the kind of gift that kept on giving. 

“Oh my god, that feels so good,” Panting, you tipped your head back and squeezed your eyes shut, letting the pleasure wash over your body at being tended to with such enthusiasm. Your panties were growing wetter by the second. 

“I told you she’d lose it once we started milking her tits,” Heeseung commented, reaching up to stroke your cheek with his thumb, “Like the feeling of getting milked that much, baby?”

The way Heeseung addressed you made your stomach do flips. 

“Mmn, yes… You guys are fucking— ah— crazy,” You whined helplessly.

“We’re not the ones posting kinky shit to our public socials,” Jay deflected with a hoarse laugh, remembering something in particular he saw on yours that he liked.

He continued to suck and knead at your breast with the intent to make you swell under his touch, and by the time you were begging for release, he wanted you to be soaked through your little shorts.

With a bit of tooth and control, Jay gradually sucked around your areola until you let out a delighted yelp, in which he quelled your pain with laps of his tongue. He was extremely cognizant of how your hips twitched, inviting him to touch you further.

“Hngh— please, it’s not like I planted a seed in your minds. You were both perverts to start with,” You shot back despite feeling stranded in the fog of bliss, “Jacking off in the shower with my soap…”

Jay, in particular, froze at your accusation.

“I’ve used that brand my whole life and noticed each bottle went quicker ever since I moved in with you two. And then jacking off in my bed when I’m not home—”

You punctuated your slight annoyance by curling your fingers around Heeseung’s cheeks. That irked you a bit more than Jay’s shower antics for hygienic reasons.

“I can smell your shampoo all over my pillow, you know. Can you at least change my sheets out of courtesy once you’re done? Bet you wanted me to figure it out, didn’t you?”

The entirety of Heeseung’s skin above his collar turned a deep shade of scarlet, his large eyes shining from embarrassment. “Shit, uh. I-I…I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll even do your laundry for a month.”

“What, so you can steal another pair of my panties?”

Heeseung couldn’t hide his startled expression. A few seconds passed before a smirk made its way onto his flushed face, and he wet his lips. “‘Course not …”

Jay cocked a brow at Heeseung having been exposed to the degree that he was. Really, the two of them should’ve known better. Although the blond wasn’t sure if there were more things Heeseung’s done that you hadn’t caught onto yet, he knew that to be so in his case.

“I knew it all along,” You sat up straighter and stroked Jay and Heeseung beneath their chin, spreading your legs to reveal how your arousal had seeped through your layer of panties staining the fabric of your bottoms a darker, enticing shade.

With greedy looks in their eyes, both boys set their sights on the evidence of your excitement, saliva collecting under their tongues. 

“So, how are you both really gonna make up for such shameless, deranged behavior?”

Heeseung felt his cock twitch heavily in his sweatpants at your challenge, knowing it was all your fault. 

“We were just getting to that part,” Jay appealed, caressing his hand along your inner thigh, dipping closer and closer to your warmth, “___, trust me, you’ll forget all about our fuck-ups in a few minutes.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” You directed Heeseung to continue stimulating your tits by dragging his chin forward as you leaned back onto your elbows. 

He peeked over his shoulder at Jay, who positioned himself between your legs, and it was evident by the dark glint in his eyes that he wanted to taste you as well. However, you judged his sinful shenanigans to be greater than Jay’s and instead jerked his head towards your chest, your free hand gripping your breast.

“C’mon, Daddy, make my wish come true. Milk my tits and pussy, I want it so badly...”

That was a first. Your words seemed to reset the two back in order; Heeseung’s breath caught in his chest, but Jay fell back into the flow of things quicker. 

“Shit, baby. We’ll give it to you.”

You squirmed as Jay ran his hot tongue over the seam tucked between your swollen mound, his fingers tugging at your waistband to strip you bare.

Heeseung held your hazy gaze as he yanked off his top, tossing it onto the floor before diving back into devouring your breasts. With each messy kiss placed on your chest, your entire body shuddered, and Heeseung found himself groaning against your skin from how amazing it felt to finally gratify his urges for you. 

It was so satisfying to make you moan nonsensical things while feeling your nails scrape along his nape and upper back. 

Once Jay freed you from your shorts, all that was left was your drenched panties, which he took an even more passionate lap at, shoving his tongue against the dip of your entrance through the fabric but all too conveniently avoiding where you needed him most. 

“Mm, Daddy… please,” You whispered with a gulp, spreading your legs even wider to lure him in, “Please make me come on your tongue.”

Jay’s eyes softened; in return, he pressed a kiss to the flesh of your trembling thigh and began to remove the last barrier of clothing that kept him from your warm, wet pussy. “Alright, baby. I’m gonna help you come so much, okay?”

“Mhmm…” You nodded.

Ah, it was so different to see him like this. He’d always spoiled you one way or another, hadn’t he?

If only you noticed how his cock was straining in his pants at seeing you spread so prettily for him while thoroughly enjoying getting your tits sucked. 

“I haven’t seen a pussy prettier than this,” Jay commented, catching his roommate’s attention.

For a second, you were given a chance to breathe and merely collapsed onto the sheets, staring up at the balloon-covered ceiling as Heeseung leaned over your body to enjoy the sight of your arousal dripping down your folds. 

“Fuck, it’s so wet,” Heeseung murmured, his eyes drinking up the erotic view of you from above as he spread your lips apart with his middle and index fingers. “Look at that drooly little hole. It’s clenching so tightly…”

Jay chuckled, and you could only whimper, feeling Heeseung’s breath ghost over your pussy. Hearing them talk about you so casually caused your face to overheat; you wondered if they ever discussed you behind your back like this. 

“Think this pink little clit would like it if we suck on it?”

Before Jay could respond, Heeseung pressed forward and swiped his tongue across your swollen clit, fit his lips around the nub, and then sucked. 

“Heeseung!” You jerked against his face and reached back to grip your duvet, feeling more wetness drip onto your sheets. 

Heeseung had the nerve to snicker in front of Jay’s face before pressing himself back up at the sound of your needy voice.

Jay’s jaw clenched, but he hadn’t made a move to stop the other male since it wasn’t against their agreement. All he could do was sink his grip into your mattress, pissed that Heeseung had just stolen the first taste of you from him.

Well, he did practically invite him over to gloat before feasting on you. He just didn’t anticipate that it’d backfire; should’ve thought twice about that. 

Little did you know it’d work in your favor. 

“Mm, knew you’d taste like candy,” Heeseung hummed, clearly trying to hold back a smile. He tipped your chin up, his voice low and tender, “Give Daddy a kiss, I want you to taste yourself.”

You were tentative in doing so but eventually got lost in the sensation of sharing the taste of your arousal with Heeseung. It made your lips tingle, toes curling against Jay’s shoulders. 

“Ah…”

Every inch of your skin became a magnet for Heeseung’s lips as he kept himself busy, rubbing at your tits, fully aware of the havoc he’d wreaked with Jay. He supposed that’s one thing he shared in common with you— getting on Jay’s nerves when he felt like it. 

Oh, were you feeling absolutely dizzy now, and even more so when a plush pair of lips you’d been missing began to make out with your pussy. 

You exhaled harshly and glimpsed down your body at the blond tending to your aching mound. All that softness previously on display was gone; Jay’s never looked more starved than he did now, grip fierce on your thighs whilst plunging his tongue into your pussy.    

“Oh fuck, Jay—!“

He wasn’t messing around. With each heavy drag of his hot tongue on your clit, your muscles seized, breath growing shorter and shorter, your body on the brink of an orgasm. 

Heeseung latched onto your tit and rolled your other nipple under his fingers, watching your desperate expression from beneath his lashes. 

With the incredible sensations you were experiencing all over the pleasure points of your body, you were done for. 

Jay reveled in the fact that you couldn’t keep your plush thighs from squeezing tightly around his head. He was just as attentive to your responses as Heeseung, his kisses to your clit pushing you over the edge as your eyes fluttered shut. 

Shocks of pleasure traveled up your core, causing spasms throughout your entire body. The boys couldn’t get enough of your precious moans echoing off your bedroom walls, and Jay seemed to be enjoying your high as much as you were. You felt his moans rumble against your skin— had a feeling he was savoring every drop of you.  

Heeseung fondly ran his fingers through strands of your hair strewn across the sheets while your limbs were awash with ecstasy. Despite your twitching, you felt Jay continue to dip between your thighs and gather your creamy release on his tongue. Shortly after, he crept over your body and reached for your jaw, his eyes trained on yours as you felt his cock scorch against your abdomen.

“Open,” He urged, and not a second later, you were mindlessly offering him your tongue. 

Your cream dribbled from the tip of his tongue onto yours, like honey— and just before the strand could break, he sealed his lips over yours, stroking deeply and slowly into your mouth like he wanted you to blackout in his arms from lack of oxygen.

Oh god…

After all that, you managed to let out a breathless chuckle and offer Jay a bashful smile which he returned.

“So, did we somewhat make up for our shameless, deranged behavior?” He asked. 

Well. You supposed you could say you weren’t nearly as put off by the secret perversions that took place over the past several months as you were 30 minutes ago.

You swallowed thickly, adrenaline still coursing through your veins as you pressed your sticky thighs together. “Yeah… a bit.”

“Just ‘a bit’ she says. Good thing we have more gifts,” Heeseung exchanged a look of amusement with Jay and kneeled by your side.

He began to stroke himself over the jet black sweatpants hanging low on his hips, brazenly shooting you a heated look as he did.

Without thinking, you reached out to touch him, and his large hand immediately covered yours, guiding you to squeeze along his thick cock and feel him up as you pleased. You just couldn’t get your hands on enough of him— either of them.

Heeseung clicked his tongue.

“Wanna open mine?”

—

A/N CONT.

Yay, I can finally add something to Jay’s repertoire! It was fun to see what naturally came out on the page for him in this fic, he ended up being Very Daddy. 😵‍💫 I actually started a femdom sub!Jay fic months ago but never got around to finishing it so I’m glad some other anons requested more of him lmao

I wasn’t sure if I’d like writing a threesome fic, but I thought I’d try it out– I didn’t hate it. A threesome tit sucking scene had been a long time comin 🤭 ANYWAYS Hee was a nice contrast to Jay in this as I’m still high off of him in NIIY. 🥰 This is also my first time writing in some aspects of a Daddy kink, but I’m still exploring it. Let me know if you enjoyed that aspect bc I know I usually tend towards more switch dynamics in my fics?

I was about to write a part 2, but I gotta get the other requests done! Also random but not, I feel like perv Hee is just a running joke in this fandom on here, so I’m just keeping the legend alive (again), he’s the official panty thief ™

As always, reblog, like or follow me if you enjoyed and check out my masterlist for more fics ⚰️🖤 It’s appreciated!

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