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casualhedonists · 3 months

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✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter five)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder/violence mention (but no actual murder) , MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, roughhousing, eventual piv, one chapter specific dubcon scene (pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

chapter: 5/6

words: um. 9.5k (sorry? but also you're welcome??)

chapter warnings: this chapter contains a scene that falls solidly into dubcon territory, so please proceed with caution, stay safe out there.

moodboards

series masterlist

a/n: WELL. here we are, almost at the end of our little rollercoaster ride. i've lost brain cells over this chapter, almost cut it up into smaller chunks, but ended up leaving it as long as i originally planned (longer, in fact. whoops). as always, feedback is very welcome + encouraged (i love hearing/reading your thoughts as things progress) buckle up, please do take note of the dubcon warning, prepare for the angst, and most importantly, enjoy!

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

He was back to ignoring you again.

But this time, the feeling was mutual. You’d never felt as thoroughly rejected as you did the night he had you walk back to your room, legs weak, wrapped in nothing but his shirt.

Once upon a time, this scenario would have been one you dreamed of, but reality often falls flat on its face. You wouldn’t have dreamt of walking away from him like this if you’d known it would feel this empty.

Humiliation ran rampant through your body, starting with the tears you blinked away as you left his room, closing the door behind you, and then flooding over as you stepped into your own room, slumping on the bed, curling up into yourself and weeping, pressing your still aching legs together but too upset to finish yourself off.

You kicked yourself for getting carried away, for getting too loud, too possessive with his face between your thighs and your hand in his hair. For getting so caught up in the moment, briefly forgetting your games, and for believing even for a second that you would be on the same page.

This push and pull had begun to wear you thin, and you were tired. So, you slept. Until nearly midday the next morning, when Lucille knocked on your door to remind you it was time for your monthly PR debrief.

The good news, though arguable at this point, was that your arrangement hadn’t been affected by recent events. At least, not on paper. Cordelia ran you through each gala, public appearance, and dinner, barely noticing your preoccupation, rambling on about speeches, coordinating outfits, dates and times of events, what to say and how to say it.

For you - and you could only imagine, Coriolanus too - everything had changed over the span of a month.

Your shame made you abnormally quiet, head hung low, gaze averted, nodding along as Cordelia prompted either a response or approval from you. Snow just stared, glancing at her only when completely necessary, but otherwise, he didn’t take his eyes off you.

He was enjoying this. The sick fuck. You were glad when the meeting ended and you could scamper into the library, eager to lose yourself in a story of any kind other than the one you were living.

This went on. By day, you barely looked at him; by night, you tried over and over to prove that your own fingers were enough to keep you satisfied. To convince yourself that you just wanted him, you didn’t need him.

Because if you needed him, then he called the shots. He would win. And victorious as he may seem, the game wasn’t over yet. You’d slipped up in a moment of vulnerability, he’d tricked you into a corner just to prove his point.

You wanted him, you didn’t need him. But if you did… well.

He was going to have to need you more.

You held back this time. Keeping your cards safe, close to your chest. In a strange way, you found a kind of solace in your arrangement. Recent events had caused it to feel unstable, breakable even, but the meeting had ensured that it was all still on the right track. It allowed you to take a small piece of what you wanted from him without guilt or repercussions. After all, it was planned out to benefit you both. Then, when you were ready, and with a gentle hand, you began to weaponise it, loading it up in the barrel of a gun aimed directly at Snow.

You didn't have much left, but you had this. You knew where your promiscuity had led you. This time, you wanted to pull on his heart strings. Make him feel remorse, or whatever similar emotion he was capable of. Make him soften to you. Torture him with almosts that were never enough.

So when you took, you took cautiously, tentatively. You deepened your usually light kisses to what was just past socially acceptable, only to pull back when Snow began to lean in, turning away and smiling at the people surrounding you, or full-on entering into conversation with somebody else. You'd brush your thumb against his when you held hands, waiting for him to look at you, drawing your hand away when he did. You'd offer smiles to everyone but him, talk and laugh a little louder when you could feel him watching.

You pretended he didn’t exist. You could feel him begin to simmer. It wasn't as brazen as your usual game, but it was working.

Until it wasn’t.

“Something’s wrong, what is it?”

Lucille’s face dropped, her shaking hands lowering from the zip she was struggling with. You were getting ready for a luncheon, and you’d picked out an emerald green dress, one of your favorites for daytime events.

“I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice, ma’am. I apologise. It’s my brother, he… it’s getting worse again.”

“Sit down for a second. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You listened to Lucille open up uncomfortably, visibly nervous that you would offer your financial support as you’d done before. But you didn’t, sparing her from having to turn you down.

Lucille was stubborn - she would never accept your charity. She was more than happy to work for her wages, and frequently worked longer hours. As months went by, you’d brought her pay up as high as you could without her noticing. But now things were getting more critical, and you knew there was only one thing you could do.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go and see your brother.”

“But you’re not dressed-”

“I’ll take care of it. Go home, Lucille. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She smiled softly.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

You’d tried with the zip, you really had. You didn’t want to have to knock on Snow’s office door with two favors to ask instead of one, but the dress was tight and the zip kept getting jammed. So, there you stood, dress half undone at the back, heart in your throat. You counted your blessings; at least it wasn’t his bedroom. You didn’t think you could face him at all in there. You heard typing from inside.

“Come in.”

You pushed the door open, feeling like an intruder.

“Sorry, I just… Could you help me with this?” Your hand tightened behind your back, holding the dress together.

He narrowed his eyes. He was already in his suit, typewriter on the desk in front of him.

“Lucille forget how to do her job?”

“I don’t need snide right now. Please, Coriolanus? I’ll explain when I’m not half naked. It’s drafty in here.”

You tried to make it clear in your tone that this wasn’t some ploy. You weren’t sure you had many of those left to offer.

“Fine.” He sighed, and stood, making no motion towards you, so you crossed the room, gripping onto the fabric, turning your back to him.

His hand came to rest on your waist as the other took the zipper, and you tried not to flinch at his touch. You pressed your lips together as he carefully zipped you up, cold metal sending a chill down your spine. Or maybe that was just him. You felt your eyes slide shut and your lips part as his hand lingered on your waist. You couldn’t hear anything but your heartbeat and the tick of his grandfather clock.

“Is that okay? Not too tight?” His breath on your neck gave you goosebumps, you hoped desperately that he wouldn’t notice.

“No, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

The second his hand fell from your waist, you missed it. You carefully met his eye; he was looking at you like you had something he wanted.

So why hadn’t he wanted you? You’d been right there, and he’d turned you down.

He cleared his throat.

“I should finish this letter before we leave. Was there anything else?”

You paused.

“Actually, there is. Could I ask you a favor?” You glanced off to the side, suddenly very interested in the knots of wood on his desk. What helped was that you'd never seen inside this room before, and you hid behind your curiosity like it was a lifeline.

“What is it?”

“It’s…” you lowered your voice, “it’s about Lucille. Her brother, actually. He’s in the hospital again. The family can’t afford the medical bills to keep him in for as long as he needs. I’d like to foot the bill, but I can’t do it anonymously. I thought… well, I was wondering if you could pull a few strings.”

You were overexplaining, something you weren’t at all used to doing, but these days, just being in the same room as him made you nervous. You stared at his desk, at the lack of photographs on it, the single pen laying to the side, the smoothness of the glaze.

It was quiet for a moment.

“Consider it done.”

You looked up.

“Really?”

“Did you think I’d say no?” He asked.

“I- no, but…”

“It’s something that matters to you.”

You blinked, dumbfounded at how simply he put it.

“Yes. It is. Thank you, Coriolanus.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll make sure it’s anonymous.”

“Thank you. Or, I mean…”

He looked at you, and you wanted to melt. Wanted to throw strategy out the window, god, but -

You couldn’t. It hadn’t worked last time. You’d hoped to avoid a stalemate, but here you were, sat right in the middle of one.

“The car’s coming in a half hour. Are you almost ready?” He asked.

“Yes. Almost.”

The luncheon was going well, at first. You were at the head of a large table, sat beside Snow, straightening your salad fork as he stood up to make a speech. You’d been glancing at him throughout the afternoon; it wasn’t so hard to anymore. It felt like his willingness to help Lucille without question, just because it was what you wanted, had more of an effect on you in five minutes than the entire week of your teasing had on him. One conversation, and the tides had changed.

As he began talking, you started to realise that your gentler approach may have been affecting you more than it had him. The party was transfixed; people loved to hear him talk, and you were proud. He had a certain way with words; you knew better than anyone. You’d fallen victim to them.

You weren’t sure why his words affected you – you’d been there, you’d agreed when Cordelia had suggested he say something nice about you in this particular speech, really make the crowd swoon, lay it on thick - but when he started to talk about you, about how proud he was to have you by his side, how strong you were-

You knew he was just reciting a script written for him, but you couldn’t help it. The tears began to quietly fall. You thanked whatever higher being was listening for not letting anyone notice.

Or so you thought.

It was just typical that out of all the people that could’ve noticed, the one person who knew better was the only one who did.

The rest of them would’ve brushed it off as you simply being moved by emotion, honored by his kind words. You blinked away your tears, taking small, polite sips of your wine. It was painful because you knew it wasn’t true. None of it was, you knew he could never say those words and mean them.

And he knew that too.

It was dark when you got home, and you trailed behind him awkwardly on your way upstairs.

“Can I have a word?” his voice was gentle, and it set you on edge.

“Sure.”

You stood awkwardly in the hallway, then he led you into the office. He leaned against his desk, and you shifted your feet where you stood, eyes on the floor, on the art on the walls, on anything other than him.

“You were upset today.” He started.

You swallowed.

“It won’t happen again, I promise.” you kept your voice steady. He paused.

“If that was my fault, I apologise. If I took it too far, if I upset you-”

You weren’t sure which part he was talking about, but you finally looked at him in a sort of distant defiance.

“Do you even care if I’m upset?”

“Of course I do. Especially when it’s something that affects you… publicly.”

You huffed, forcing yourself to stare him down.

“Because that’s all that matters, right? What the public sees?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure it is. It’s okay, Snow. I’m a big girl. And I can take a hint, too. So don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine. Business as usual, right?”

He just stared, puzzled. You took a breath.

“Look, it’s been a long day. Can I go, or are you going to keep me here all night?”

The silence was like smoke, clouding between you. His brow furrowed, calculating. Then he sighed, long and heavy, and you tried not to let it phase you.

“Fine. Go.”

You nodded.

“Goodnight.”

You’d never been more relieved to get away from him. Your broken walls were starting to build back up. You wouldn’t let him break you, you couldn’t. You were stronger than this.

That night, for the first time, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was truly what you wanted.

“Darling, you look ravishing.” Lilian drawled. “It’s a pity Snow is so far across the room, and can’t appreciate you. If I dressed half as nicely as you did, perhaps my dear husband wouldn’t be screwing the maid.”

A scandalised chorus of giggles erupted from the group. It was a pretty dress, one of your best. Long and smooth black fabric, ruched at the waist, with a deep cut up the leg that was just acceptable for an evening gala. You stood tall, champagne glass in hand, gossiping with your friends.

Well.

Friends was being generous. You kept few true friends, and they would hardly be gossiping in a circle like this.

Acquaintances was a better fit. Pawns if you were being brutally honest. Politicians’ wives, senators’ mistresses, a chancellor’s daughter or two. Pieces of chess, really, in this bigger game. Anyone who could help you climb higher, whisper carefully spun words into open ears at your whim.

“I just know George would rip that dress off me the moment I got home. He might not even be able to wait, and just pull me into a closet here instead.”

Another eruption of giggles.

“Well, I’m flattered, my darlings.” You smiled. “This is one of my favorites. Coriolanus treats me well.”

“I’m sure he does,” a suggestive glance from Lilian, “in all the ways one would expect, I assume?”

You gasped in mock modesty.

“Lilian,” you drawled, “I certainly hope you’re not suggesting I disclose our-”

“Oh, just tell us dear, please. We’re all dying to know. You’re always so coy about it. What’s he like?”

You pulled your lips into a knowing smile, your perfectly painted face helping you slide into this facade. You scanned your eyes across the ballroom, across to Snow. He stood talking to a group of men, colleagues of his. You recognised their faces.

It had been four days since the luncheon. Four days since your outburst. Four days of hiding away. You’d been dreading tonight’s gala, but it gave you an excuse to dress nicely, and as soon as you’d arrived, you and Coriolanus has gone your separate ways.

“Well,” you hummed, masking your uncertainty as anticipation, “he can be a slight tease.”

A few dramatic gasps sounded through the group, and you turned back to face them, their eyes wide and expectant.

“Salacious. Do tell.” Another voice piped up with a giggle.

“He can be fun to toy with. I do enjoy pushing back, but sometimes he takes it… a little far.” You said carefully.

“My, who would have known? But you get what you want, my dear, surely.” Lilian asked.

You smiled, glancing back at him, suit pristine with a white rose in his breast pocket. You hated how good he looked. He was smiling politely at the group of men around him, but you could tell from the tick in his jaw that something was bothering him.

“Sometimes, I do. Others, I wait for my chance to push his buttons right back.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? I don’t suppose,” she pressed, “that you’re in one of those… entanglements at the moment?”

“Lilian, darling, you know I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Another giggle sounded from the group.

“Oh, my.” Lilian repeated, glancing between the two of you. “I do hope you’ve been making him suffer.”

“Well, I’m playing a longer game this time, so I’m afraid there hasn’t been as much fun lately.”

Lilian sucked in a breath, like the perfect idea had just dawned on her.

“Well, I see no moment like the present. You’re here, you’re dressed marvellously, I propose you walk right over there and show him just what he’s missing.”

A chorus of yes and do it and we’ll cheer you ons rang out. Loosened by the champagne, you looked across the room at him again. You could do it. He wouldn’t be able to react, it would be the most perfect torture. You suddenly decided that you were done making small moves, done playing it safe like this was some schoolgirl crush. It was time to step up to the mark again. Take your power back.

Your group could sense the newfound determination in you. You smiled, slow and cunning.

Show him what he’s missing.

Simple. It’s what you did best.

“Watch and learn, ladies.”

A hush fell over the group as they watched you run a hand through your hair, handed your glass to one of them, and pressed your lips together. Before you’d left the house you’d added a swipe of red lipstick, dark red, almost bloodlike. It always made you feel more confident and tonight, you needed the pick me up.

The middle of the ballroom was practically empty; the dancing was over, and everyone had long since gathered in groups to the sides. So you turned heads when you stepped out, the only one on the floor, black satin hugging your frame like a second skin. You didn’t look at them, you made a steady beeline to Snow. You felt more and more eyes on you as you crossed the room, heels clicking on the floor. They all watched, waiting for… something. Coriolanus didn’t look up until you were a mere few steps away, now deep in some conversation he was going to forget very shortly.

Blue eyes flashed to yours with a confused apprehension, but you didn’t give yourself time to think about the twitch of his brow, or the looks on the faces of his colleagues. You didn’t think about the way he opened his mouth as if to say something, only for it to be swallowed away.

You didn’t think about any of that.

Because your lips were on his.

Hot and hungry, teeth clashing, your hand grabbing the back of his neck as he leaned in, surprised at first, then warm, wanting. Lips tugging at yours like he was starving.

It was sinful.

You’d never been kissed like this before. Your fuzzy brain wondered how you’d gone through life not knowing what this felt like, the press of his lips devouring yours, heated and messy.

He kissed you like breathing, like you were his oxygen supply. His hand slid to your waist and pulled you in, and you heard the echoes of chuckling coming from around you, morphing into a few light claps.

Then, just as you felt him fully melt into you, your hand slipped higher to the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of perfect platinum curls, and tugged.

It was nothing but an affectionate display to the people surrounding you, but a brazen reminder between the two of you. It was your way of showing you hadn’t forgotten, that you wouldn’t be made to feel ashamed, to cower in a corner while he got the better of you.

Not in this lifetime.

The second it happened, his breath hitched, and his hand tensed on your waist. You were the only one who caught it, getting high off the satisfaction, finally pulling away.

You weren’t sure you’d ever seen a prettier sight; his blown-out eyes, his face stained with scarlet.

How’s that for tasting your own medicine.

Watching him attempt to collect himself was sweeter still. Watching him reset his face into one of distant amusement. He let out a small laugh, glanced at the rest of the party.

“Everything alright, doll? Had a little much champagne, perhaps?”

His colleagues chuckled, but you didn’t look their way. You stood your ground. Offered a sweet smile, but he could see your slyness.

“Oh, I’m swell. And I think I’ve had just enough, actually. I’m gonna go freshen up.”

You turned on your heel and made your way through winding halls to the bathroom, riding an adrenaline high. You picked up a glass from a server’s tray along the way – the champagne had dried out, all they were serving now was posca, which while disgusting, worked a treat to take the edge off. It wasn’t long before the door swung open and you saw Coriolanus appear behind you in the mirror.

“This is the ladies’ room, handsome.” You looked away, continuing to reapply your lipstick.

He stepped closer.

“What was that kiss about, sweetheart?” Straight to the point.

“Nothing.” You shrugged.

“Didn’t feel like nothing.”

“That’s called acting, Snow.” You rolled your eyes, vaguely aware that your words sounded a little jumbled. You put the tube of lipstick away. “We had an audience. A rather expectant one at that.”

He folded his arms.

“I don’t like it when you catch me off guard like that. Not with people around.”

“Seemed to like it plenty to me.” You mumbled.

He didn’t answer, pacing past you to the other sink, grabbing a towel and wiping it against his face, where the red had stained his skin. It only served to spread it around further, and if you weren’t already smugly entertained by the marks you’d left on him, now it was just plain funny.

He glared at you when you laughed.

“Don’t give me that look. Here,” you offered, stepping across to him, taking the towel and wetting it, “let me.”

You wiped at a patch, but he snatched the towel back and took over.

“No, you’re rubbing it too hard. It’s-” he glowered at you – “fine. Do it your way.”

You went back to lean against your sink and took another sip of posca, admiring the ornate decorations in the room. A little excessive, a little new money for your tastes.

There was a rap on the door.

“President Snow?”

“Just a minute.” He said coolly.

“You’re in a mood tonight.” You remarked, and he huffed.

“Running a country can get exhausting. Don’t expect you to understand.”

“Right.” You said flatly. “Because I’m just a brainless pawn like everybody else.”

He looked over at you, at the drink in your hand.

“How many of those have you had?”

You shrugged again, and he tossed the towel into the sink, walking over to you.

“Answer me.” His voice was stern, and for a second, you soaked it in, drenched in the danger as he approached, closing in. Your tongue slipped out to wet your lips, and your eyes followed his as he moved to stand in front of you.

“Shame you don’t have someone to let all that frustration out on, isn’t it? Sounds like that could be helpful.”

His eyes pierced yours.

“Doll-”

“I’m just saying, it’s a pity you don’t.” You moved to bring the glass to your lips, anticipating the burn in your throat, but he gently stopped your hand.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“Posca? It’s my first glass.” You smiled, eyes batting.

“You know what I mean. I think you should stop.”

You looked at the glass, then back at him, and pried your hand away, slowly and pointedly taking another sip.

“Sweetheart.” He warned.

“What, are you punish me? Gonna make me beg for you then kick me out again? Already did that once.”

He gave an incredulous half-laugh.

“That’s what this is about? You’re not really going to be mad about that forever, are you?”

“That depends. How long is forever?”

The door knocked again, and he worked the glass out of your hand.

“Drink some water. Sober up. We’ll talk about this when we get home.”

You sighed, heading for the door, but glanced back at him, his face still a stained mess. You brushed a finger against your own cheek to mirror his.

“You missed a spot.”

You sat in silence in his office, feeling a little like a schoolchild caught misbehaving. His typing was the only sound in the room. The seat was low; almost as if it was there to point out his authority over anyone who sat in it. Knowing him, it probably was.

He’d managed to clean off the rest of your lipstick, but his face looked rubbed raw, uncomfortable. A tall glass of water sat on the desk in front of you.

“Thought you said we’d talk.”

“Not until you finish that glass. I’m not talking to you inebriated.”

“Seriously?”

He shot you a look from behind his typewriter.

“Fine. Whatever.” You reached for it and took a few sips. He looked back down again. A few folders cluttered the desk, and in your boredom, your eyes scanned them. They looked complicated; legal.

“What are you writing there anyway? Or am I too dumb to understand?”

He offered another unimpressed glance.

“It’s a new bill I’m trying to pass. Except apparently, I’m the only one around here with their head screwed on enough to work on it.”

You waited as Snow pushed the typewriter’s lever, carriage sliding the page as he began writing the next line. You sipped your water.

He sighed. “One day I won’t have to mingle with these idiots anymore. They’ll just listen to me, and obey.”

You took that in.

“Do you feel that way about me?”

He studied you for a second, and stopped typing.

“No. Not really.”

“But you wish I’d be more… compliant.” You stared at the floor.

“Not necessarily.”

“You sure? Didn’t seem to like it the other night.”

His eyes narrowed. Knowing this conversation was a game of chess like any other. But lately the stakes were higher than ever.

“Never said I didn’t like it. Just that you were out of line.”

“And where is that fucking line?” You snapped. “I’m serious, Snow, because we’ve never talked about it.”

“You want to talk, all of a sudden? Okay, sweetheart. Fire away.”

You put the glass down on the table, heavier than intended.

“I just don’t understand you, Coriolanus. I mean, first you don’t want me, then you do want me, then you don’t again. And now what? I don’t know what I’m supposed to think when you don’t give me anything to go off.”

He watched you carefully, and you wanted to shake him, to scream, anything that would give you answers. You stood, unable to sit still, and started pacing.

“You know what’s worse? I don’t even know if you want me here anymore. I don’t know how to act around you because I never know what you’re thinking. At first I thought all this, the whole push and pull, was just some control thing. But-” you laughed, airy and insane, “you know what I realised? You’ve had me fooled, Snow. All this time I thought we were equals, but now I think I finally realise.”

He frowned, waiting for you to continue.

“You pay for my company, if you think about it. We trade services, don’t we? You get something from me, I get something back. I live in your house, eat your food, wear nice clothes. At the end of the day, that’s just it, isn’t it?”

“What?”

You shrugged, tears filling your eyes as bitterness took over, so strong you could almost taste it.

“I’m no better than a whore myself.”

You’d never heard a louder silence. If that hadn’t just taken everything out of you, you’d have begged him to say something. Instead, you just stared, eyes blurry with tears, as he seconds seemed to stretch into minutes, and you gave up trying to read his mind, because his expression was indecipherable.

After what felt like hours, he took a long breath.

“Sit down.”

You glanced at the floor, then took a step towards your chair. He stopped you.

“Not there. Here.” He nodded at the desk in front of him, and you swallowed thickly, stepping around the desk, getting awfully close to him, and pulling yourself onto the desk, legs pressed together. He stood, looking down at you.

“That’s really what you think of yourself?” He asked, voice steady and controlled.

You kept your eyes averted.

“Am I wrong?”

He lifted a hand and brushed his fingertips against your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. And when you looked at his eyes, you knew exactly what he was feeling. He wasn’t hurt, or upset.

He was mad.

“Tell me something. What do you think I’d do if I heard someone talking about you that way?

“I don’t-”

“I’d have them executed. And you expect me to stand by and let you talk about yourself like that?”

You felt a tear spill down your cheek.

“I don’t know, Coriolanus, you tell me. Am I disposable to you?”

“Of course not."

“But you’d replace me if I left.”

“What makes you think I’d let you leave in the first place?”

A chill caressed your spine.

“That’s right. I’m keeping you here, doll. If I made you doubt that, I apologise. But you’re no whore. Though sometimes, I…” He trailed off.

“What?”

His eyes were on your lips again, hungry. You wondered how someone could switch from distant to depraved and wanting this quickly.

“Sometimes I wish you were. Because it’d make it a lot easier for me to take what I want. If you were, then I’d have no hesitation in ripping your clothes off right here. Fucking you on my desk, or up against the wall, not caring if you cum. Not caring if you enjoy it. If you were a whore, I’d have fucked you in every room in this house, twice over. I wouldn’t let you sleep.”

His hand was on your thigh, the now-creased fabric of your dress crumpling as it slid up. You weren’t sure when your eyes had fallen shut, your hot breath mixing with his as his thumb rubbed against your skin.

Your voice was pathetically quiet.

“Then why don’t you?”

He sighed, tone shifting into something tense, something you could cut through with a knife.

“Because you’re fucking impossible, you know that? I can barely think when you’re around. I don’t know where the games begin or end. I don’t… I don’t understand this power you have over me. I thought you knew, you must know that you’re under my skin. I don’t know if you’ll ever stop playing with me. It drives me fucking insane.”

You opened your eyes, hand gripping his wrist and pulling it from your thigh. You slid off the desk and took a step away from him.

“You think I’m playing with you? The only time you pay an ounce of attention to me is when you’re trying to fuck with my head, Snow. I said my piece, you heard me and you still didn’t care. So please, for both our sakes, stop torturing me. Just… come find me when you decide you want me again, okay? Let’s leave it at that.”

You made for the door, which you slammed with such an impressive force that it even took you aback.

You replayed his words in your head that night until you fell into a deep sleep, and when you woke, you felt like your dreams made more sense than he did.

“Tigris!” you exclaimed, catapulting into the blonde’s arms. The people who stood scattered around you in the manor’s large ballroom spun their heads around at your display. A few even dodged to the side as the momentum that you’d built running down the stairs nearly knocked her over.

A few days of silent glances and fewer exchanged words had passed. And now, you were just happy to be hosting in the comfort of your own home, and to finally see Tigris again. You wondered if she noticed how you hugged her, if she wondered - like you did - if you’d ever let go.

“I’m so happy you’re here. How’s your Grandma’am?”

“She’s quite well, she’s sorry she couldn’t make it. You look beautiful as ever. It’s been too long!”

“I know! I don’t think I’ve seen you since your birthday, which makes me the worst friend ever.” You groaned, scrunching up your face in shame.

“It’s okay! I know busy Coriolanus keeps you with all these functions. You must be going out of your mind by now. How are you holding up?”

The two of you walked to the edge of the room, where prying eyes had settled down after your greeting.

You looked at Snow, stood across the ballroom, dressed in a pristine suit with a champagne glass in hand, talking to yet another group of men who worked for him – ministers and such, a little higher ranking than the group from the other night – and spared you the occasional glance. As if he was keeping tabs on you. It wasn’t long before Tigris caught on and politely inquired.

“I don’t understand him, Tigris. I think he hates me.” You sighed.

“What? No, he could never. He has a soft spot for you, really, and I have it on good authority.”

“I’m not so sure anymore. I think I’ve pushed it a little far this time. I think… maybe we both did. I’m in uncharted waters, here.”

“Look, I know I don’t know all the ins and outs of how this thing between you works, but I don’t think he could ever hate you for doing anything. Coryo – I mean, Coriolanus, he does care, contrary to popular belief. It’s just that his way of showing it can get a little…”

“Fucked?” You offered, and she laughed.

“Yes, exactly. Now, I’m not going to lie to you and say that he’s an angel on earth, he’s had to do things to get to where he is now. Things that even I don’t know the extent of, and they’ve… changed him.”

You rarely got the chance to speak with Tigris alone these days, with Snow usually playing chaperone, or keeping one or the both of you busy, but it had always been easy to slide right back into conversation with her like you’d never been apart.

You’d first met Tigris at a Plinth gala years ago, on the same day you’d met Snow. The two of you had talked and laughed and she had an easiness around her, she wasn’t shallow and judgemental like a lot of the girls you’d grown up with, though you never knew why until many months later. Snow had placed a large wall between his life before the Plinth endorsement, and after. Few people knew the conditions he’d grown up in, but after countless hours with Tigris, you’d begun to assemble small pieces. Despite your closeness with her, you knew from her warnings that Snow had a sort of temper when it came to this topic, so you approached it with caution.

“Changed him how?” You inquired, finally.

“Well… It wasn’t always fancy balls and lunches with him. It never was, with any of us, as you know, but especially for him. He’s… had a different experience. Grandma’am and I, we’ve known hard times, but we haven’t seen what he’s seen. Not even close.”

“What kind of things?”

She glanced over her shoulder, making sure nobody was hovering.

“He’d kill me for telling you.”

“You know I won’t say a word. But you don’t have to tell me, if it’s too much to ask.”

She took in a breath, and sipped her drink, voice dropping to a whisper.

“This stays between us, okay? Coriolanus has… been out there. In the districts, I mean. Before all this. And I can’t go into detail, he’d have my head if I…”

You swallowed.

“The districts? But… why? I don’t-”

“Tigris, lovely to see you, it’s been so long.” A male voice interrupted, and you quickly excused yourself, slipping away to let the two of them talk.

After mulling it over in your head and making small talk with a few more guests, you snuck out of a side door and into the hallways, winding upstairs until you were finally met with Snow’s bedroom door. The sound of voices and music a mere echo below you, you pushed tentatively, and stepped inside. It was strange, being in there alone, for the first time since he’d turned you away. But you paced the floor, looking for something, anything, that would answer the questions you had. Why the districts? Why couldn’t Tigris tell you what had happened there?

Glancing back at the door, you began thumbing through his closet, peeking inside drawers. You’d already given his room a once over, but you worked more meticulously this time, every corner you unsuccessfully turned over only fuelling your curiosity. You walked around the room again, getting frustrated.

You headed back to the door, scanning the place, and retraced your steps a third time. Knocking a little on cupboards and anything that appeared the slightest bit odd or out of place. It was a perpetually tidy room, neat as ever, save for the desk which contained folders you were sure weren’t for your eyes, but that didn’t stop you. You kept on, trying your best not to leave any stone unturned, and most importantly, trying not to move anything out of place.

Eventually, you moved to the smaller desk drawers again, rifling through them haphazardly, annoyed by the lack of evidence you were finding. One of the two drawers had very little inside it, just a pencil and a pocket dictionary, and as you pushed your hand further inside to feel for anything else, you noticed it felt smaller than the first. Shallower. When you knocked, it was hollow.

It had a false bottom.

Your father used to keep his cigars beneath one of these when you were growing up, so you knew what to look for. You felt around the edge until you touched a small, metal handle, then emptied the drawer, hooked your fingers into the handle and pulled. You frowned at first, there was less in the hidden compartment than there was above it. But you peered inside, and there lay two items: an old photograph, and a silver dog tag.

Suddenly, it all made sense. His efficiency, his drive, his orderliness.

Military. The districts. The dog tag.

You unfolded the photograph, caked in a layer of dust, and it hit you like a ton of rocks.

Coriolanus was a peacekeeper.

But why? When? And why keep it a secret?

In the photograph, his hair was buzzed, and he was in a uniform you recognised immediately; if only because of the annual reaping ceremony shown in every building in the Capitol. He was standing next to a boy with dark hair, also buzzed. You recognised him as Sejanus Plinth, you’d never met the kid but you’d been to his funeral with your family, and had seen enough pictures to know.

You knew that the Plinth family had backed Coriolanus’ education, that he became their new heir, a protégé of sorts, but not that he’d been friends with their son. Not that they’d been this close, at least. They weren’t smiling in the photo, stood pin straight and alert in what looked like barracks.

You folded the photograph and placed it back where you found it. Your hands lingered on the dog tag, though, despite the logical side of your brain screaming at you to put it back, leave the room and pretend you didn’t see this. But the louder part egged you on as you pulled it out of the drawer, examining the engraved words, running your hands over the name SNOW and, further down, DISTRICT 12.

You’d heard bedtime stories from your mother while growing up, about the war, the Hunger Games and why they existed, and why it was never safe to set foot in the districts, not even the richer ones.

They’re beneath us, she’d said. They’re dangerous. Barbaric. And 12 was notoriously the poorest, most dangerous of them all.

Coriolanus had now become more of an enigma to you than ever before, and a thousand new questions flooded your head.

You closed the drawer halfway, holding the chain, pulling out a chair in front of the mirror to sit down. You turned the tag over in your hands, as if it would start giving you the answers, if only you looked hard enough.

Why was he sent to 12? Why couldn’t he talk about it?

Despite the conditions Snow grew up in, there was respect behind his family name. It didn’t make sense why someone of his social standing and education would leave to be a peacekeeper, of all things, and in 12, of all places. A strange sort of pity filled you, wondering what he could’ve seen out there. What he could’ve done. It all drew you in as you got lost in a world of what ifs.

Despite yourself, you pushed your hair from your neck, and as if in a trance, wrapped the chain around it. It fell heavy and cold against your skin, sending a chill through your bones. You were so busy staring down at it, so lost in thought that you barely noticed the sound of the door pushing open. Or the floorboards lightly creaking. Or his reflection in the mirror. You didn’t notice any of that, until the door swung shut with a bang.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Coriolanus had had a long day, most of which he’d spent simmering over work and you. He’d kept his eye on you that evening; on the way you’d thrown yourself into Tigris’ arms, and talked, transfixed, and he hated not knowing what was being said. A strange feeling set in as he saw the two of you get deeper into conversation from the other side of the large room, a deep-seated uneasiness stirring him up as he drowned out the tales of his associates’ incompetence. It felt like a breath of relief when he sent someone your way to interrupt whatever talk you were having, pretending that Tigris had been looking for him earlier. He focused on your brief tour of the room when the distraction worked, eyes flitting around like you were preoccupied.

When he saw you dart away from the ballroom and up one of the stairwells, he followed you as soon as he got the chance.

He’d wondered if you might act up today, but this wasn’t what he was expecting. When he saw you, the all too familiar glint of silver around your pretty neck, something shifted in him. Something he’d done a very, very good job of keeping at bay during his first few years of presidency.

Rage.

Your eyes met his in the mirror.

“Coriolanus, I-”

His hands were on you before you could finish your sentence, hauling you out of the chair, fingers wrapped in a death grip around your arms, squeezing as he pushed you to the wall with a satisfying thud.

“What, you can explain? I highly doubt that.”

“I’m sorry, I just-” You gasped as he squeezed tighter, gripping your wrists.

“Do you even know what this means?” He seethed, dog tag pressed between his fingers, chain pulling at your neck.

The forest. The birds. The gunshots that deafened him for weeks.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry. I never knew you were a peacekeeper, Coryo, I-” He flinched, saw the way you winced the second it passed your lips.

Snow may have been cold, but his eyes were fire. And you were only stoking it.

“So I’m Coryo now? Who the fuck told you call me that? Was it Tigris? I saw you talking to her, don’t lie to me.”

“No.” You shook your head. “She didn’t tell me anything, I promise. Please. It was just me.”

He moved in closer, eclipsing you altogether, grip on the chain so tight he was certain you’d be able to feel it pinching the back of your neck, digging a mark into your flesh. He let the sadistic part of his brain take delight in it, in the way your eyes widened, face pleading.

Whatever this game was between you, you’d gone too far this time.

“How did you find this?” He snapped.

You were crowded against the wall, unable to move. Tears started to brim, and you didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure you could. You just shook your head over and over, repeating I’m sorry like a broken record.

“Take this off. Now. Take it off.” He ordered, dropping it back to your chest, stepping away a little so you could lift your shaking arms over your head, removing the chain. He snatched it from you, gripping it in his palm, looking down at it, and you breathed out in relief.

“I didn’t mean to… I was just looking. I had so many questions. I didn’t know what I’d find.”

“And? Are you fucking satisfied now?” His voice chilled you to the bone as he looked up at you again.

You shook your head. Apologised again. Wished you could apologise in any way that would matter, but it was too late. You’d never been more afraid in your life, anticipating what might happen, remembering echoes of rumors you’d heard, of Snow poisoning his enemies, of sending them to hang. Some you knew to be true, but others you boiled down to rebel gossip.

Now, you weren’t so sure. These were the eyes of a man who’d dropped his mask, and it was like staring into a dark void. You could get lost in it, and never find your way back.

“Please. Don’t… I won’t tell anyone, I promise. You can trust me.”

He scoffed.

Stupid girl. Hadn’t you learned by now, that trust meant nothing?

“Like I trusted you in here? I don’t think so. Can’t believe you had me feeling sorry for you. Probably just made it up so you could lower my guard then turn around and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I didn’t, Coriolanus, I swear.” You pleaded. You were crying, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’ve been very patient with you, little girl. But this is where I draw the line. You have no idea how far you’ve pushed me. And you don’t even realise it, you’re so caught up in your little crush. Do you know how easy I’ve been going on you? The things I’ve let you get away with… I’ve killed people for much less.”

“You’ve…” You trailed off, barely hearing your own words, barely processing a thing. He laughed, low and dark.

“Does that scare you, sweetheart? Does it make you afraid?”

Eyes frozen open, you just stared. You felt your jaw go slack.

“Good.”

Coriolanus toed an invisible line, one that had never been crossed before. You wanted him to show you he wanted you? Fine.

He looked down at the chain wrapped around his fist, but he didn’t pocket it, or place it to the side. He unwound it, and slowly pulled it over his own neck.

Your eyes dropped to where it sat in stark contrast, heavy and shining, garish against his fancy dress shirt. You felt your blood run cold.

“Get on your knees.” You heard him say. Your eyes darted back up.

“What?”

When he spoke, it sounded like someone else was talking. Someone you didn’t know at all.

“You heard me. Get on your fucking knees. Right now.”

What could you do? This was what you’d wanted. Just… not like this. Not when your hands were shaking in fear, and you had no idea what this Coriolanus was capable of.

Your head said yes; your heart wept. But you were far past listening to your sorry heart.

So, you obeyed. Legs all but giving in as you lowered yourself to the ground, knees meeting cold hardwood as the chill cut through your dress.

His fingers slipped under one of the straps.

“Take this off, baby.” He murmured, distant, like he wasn’t all there. Your head hung in shame, eyes on his feet as you pushed the straps from your shoulder, top half of the dress falling down. You heard his zipper slide down, and you shivered. No longer sure if it was in fear or anticipation.

“Head up. Look at me. Good,” he said, when you obliged, “now let’s see what this pretty mouth’s really good for, shall we?”

More tears welled up as his hand brushed your jaw, hooking a thumb to your bottom lip, pushing your mouth open. You couldn’t help the way your tongue grazed over it, tasting salt, whining when you realised it was the taste of your own tears. When your eyes fell open again, you finally caught a look at him, hard and tip weeping, and your brain filled with nothing but want, eclipsing your fear for a mere second, enough to bring Coriolanus to the ground again. He may have done terrible, unspeakable things, but he was still a man. A man who wanted you.

And why did that make your heart beat out of your chest? It thrummed like a hummingbird as you took in the sight of him, unbuttoning his shirt as he waited for you to move.

You’d seen how big he was from a distance. You’d felt him between layers of fabric, and you’d imagined this a million times over. But now, as he stood waiting in front of you, you hesitated, because it all finally felt real. Your mouth watered despite yourself, seeing the mess he’d already made, any more and he’d start dripping -

“Go on, sweetheart. It’s not gonna suck itself.”

Your eyes squeezed shut as you let him past your lips. The heady taste of precum filled your mouth as you ran your tongue along the shaft slowly, trying to start steady. He wasn’t having it. His hand twisted through your hair, pulling you in closer, making you gag a little. You instinctively lifted a hand up to his thigh to brace yourself, and he laughed.

“Giving up so soon? Thought you’d try harder than that.”

He pushed further, and the indignant sound you made as you adjusted only served to spur him on.

You tried to focus on breathing through it, but he slipped in and out your mouth unevenly, and faster than you could think, catching you off guard. He looked down at the way your mouth struggled to take his length as if you were a piece of art, like he was mesmerised by it, and that feeling was encouragement was enough to keep you going. His hand twisted harder in your hair, making a fist, and he swore when you hummed in discomfort.

“Look at you.” He said, strung-out and shaky. “You strut right in here from your silver spoon life, and think you can call the shots? You’ve bitten off more than you can chew, sweetheart. You have no fucking idea what the world is really like. What people are like. What they have to do to survive.”

He moved faster, and you let your jaw go slack. You were barely moving now, he was starting to fuck your throat like he owned it. You’d started to cry again, and when you looked up at him, it was a blur. The furthest you could see was his chest, shirt unbuttoned and falling to the sides, and the dog tag, silver catching in the low light, swinging against his chest as he moved. You closed your eyes again, trying to go somewhere else in your head. Trying to breathe through your nose, to focus on being used, on how good you were making him feel, on finally being his. It was all you had left to hold on to.

But he was unwinding you with his words, knowing just where to press to make it sting, to make the tears fall harder.

“You don’t have any fucking shame about it either. Touching yourself on my bed and wearing my clothes, like you’re – fuck, that’s it - like we’re married or something. Like you’re worth more than everyone else. But look at you. Maybe you were right after all. Maybe you are my whore.” he gritted out.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried desperately to catch your breath between sobs.

“I mean, you sure look like it now, on your knees for me, making a mess of your pretty face. So fucking good. You’re sucking me off better than she did, and you’re barely even trying.”

You hated it. Hated the way his thumb brushed painfully gently against your cheek, dusting away a tear as his cock bruised the back of your throat and you tried not to gag around him. Hated the way his words twisted around in your head, and how fucked up it was that your broken brain took it as praise instead of punishment.

Most of all, you hated the throb between your shaking legs, panties soaked through and probably ruined. Humiliation seeped through you as you imagined it dripping down your legs and onto the floor. Your salty tears spilled down your face, mixing with your spit and his precum. Hating every second, until your head went blank, and you didn’t feel much of anything anymore.

You weren’t sure exactly how it happened.

One second, he was pulling your hair, twitching in your mouth and spilling down your throat, and the next, in what felt like a flash, you were on the floor, loud, wrecked sobs spilling out of you as you held your knees to your chest, face hidden. He was on the floor too - when did he get down? - and his voice was soft, oh so soft and gentle, saying something you couldn’t quite make out, dull and repetitive past your ringing ears.

“- so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I know I - I didn’t… I took it too far. Can you hear me, sweetheart? Look at me. Please, look at me. I’m right here.”

You pulled your head from your hands, and through blurred eyes, you looked at him.

This wasn’t a face you’d seen on him before. His brows knitted, lips apart as he stared at you, like you were some wounded animal he wanted to save.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. Please.”

“I can’t…” You trailed off.

“You can tell me.”

Another wave of choked back sobs took over you. He held your jaw up like you were something breakable. Like maybe you’d broken already, and he was holding you together.

“I can’t do this.” You whispered. “Not like-”

He nodded, brushing a tear from your cheek.

“Okay. It’s okay, baby. Tell me what I can do for you. Just say the word.”

You caught your breath, and he flinched a little as you collapsed into his arms. The cool metal of the dog tag pressed into your cheek.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You cried.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t realise how far I’d pushed you until… I know I can’t make it up to you, but I’ll try. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. If you want to leave, I understand. I’ll make the arrangements.”

“What? No, that’s not…”

He cut you off, looking into your eyes.

“Decide tomorrow, okay doll? You don’t have to think about that now.”

“I didn’t know about… about the districts.” You hiccupped. “About you. You didn’t want me to know. I ruined everything, I-”

“Listen to me. It doesn’t matter anymore, I promise you. It’s okay, baby.”

You nodded into his chest.

“Here.” He leaned away from you, and you looked up in a question. He took the chain from his neck and placed it in your palm.

“You can have it. So long as nobody sees. You can throw it away, wear it around the house, whatever you want. It’s yours.”

You pressed it between your fingers. It cooled your hot skin like a salve.

“Thank you.” You whispered. Your head sank back onto his chest, and when you spoke again, it was barely audible.

“Coryo?”

He tensed for a second, but relaxed again just as quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

His hand brushed gently against your hair, and you relaxed into it.

“Of course you can.”

a/n: baby's first dubcon scene!! (screams cries and throws up bc navigating that was scary as fuck) p.s one more chapter left!! do we think they'll get their shit together?? who knows!! (i know)

taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii @tqmqkii @not-avery @natsgf @sleepysongbirdsings @hopebaker @darknight3904 @pemberlystateofmind @bxtchopolis @real-lana-del-rey @24kmar @louweasleymalfoy @m1ndbrand @coconut-dreamz @cosmicgyral @urfavevirgoo @mk15x @theamuz @ashy-kit @violante777 @snowlandstop @badbleep88

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belokhvostikova · 1 year

Text

𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | In the simplest terms, Dustin Henderson has essentially become Eddie Munson's biggest cock block.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, brief alcohol consumption, jealousy, mentions of a rough childhood, and explicit sexual content: humping, clit rubbing, pussy slapping, spitting, handjob, oral (male receiving), and ball play.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Couple uses of "Y/N," sorry. And for maximum enjoyment, please picture Eddie's whiny tantrums from the boat scene for this piece, lol. If there are any necessary warnings that were accidently left out, please feel free to let me know!

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

It started off minor, as most issue occur.

Eddie rather quickly took notice of the particular interest Dustin Henderson took in you.

It was lunch. Though they were essentially just a myriad of—let's be honest here—losers, the judgmental stares of high school boys as you approached and sat at their table was quite worry inducing. Getting through Eddie's hardening exterior was a journey in of itself, and now as his proclaimed girlfriend, you had to experience the journey yet again with his friends, who profoundly expressed their distaste for “your people.” Who knew such popularity within yourself would have caused them to initially despise you this much.

Not Dustin Henderson, though.

At an attempt to ease some of the awkward tension—made only worse when Eddie snapped at everyone to be nice—at the lunch table, you caught sight of Dustin's Weird Al t-shirt, one which he wore proudly, that in all honesty made you giggle. Ever since then, Dustin Henderson hasn’t been able to let go of the fact that he made a pretty girl laugh.

He clung onto you like a lifeline.

Eddie had a temper. He was always revved up. And seeing how often Dustin was conjuring a conversation with you, seeking your attention, truly made him ballistic. He didn't like sharing. Even if it was harmless. Ever since the officially introduction at lunch, it has been nothing but:

"Hey, check out my new comic book! It's limited edition!"

"Wanna help me with my science project? You're just so smart, it would really help. Maybe we can meet at the library?"

"Do you wanna see Alien with me? Lucas is going with Max, and you can join me." The fuck?! That was practically a double-date to Eddie.

The one that truly hurt him the most was two weeks ago, when you congratulated the stupid, little shit—Eddie's words, not yours—with one of your loving, sweet hugs for getting an A+ on said science project.

You used to always hug Eddie when he made good grades.

But, hey, maybe Eddie was just overreacting, right? But what the hell constitutes overreacting and not rightful-reacting, when some noisy freshman, who can't seem to grasp the simple concept of boundaries, once again oversteps, making him have blue balls, because all he wanted was to cum in his girlfriend's mouth, but apparently that's too much to ask!

Eddie huffed.

You stared incredulous.

"'Rightful-reacting.'" You tried to suppress the giggle, you really did, but you couldn't help but laugh at his dramatic wording, when he had dragged you away into his bedroom to vitalize this reoccurring issue.

Eddie moved close, right to your face, gripping tightly on your shoulders, looking like a crazed man. Hell, it was Dustin's fault. "Sweetheart, you're focusing on the wrong thing here." He heaved. "That little dingus has been ruining my life for the past week; only speaking to you, interrupting date nights, calling twenty-four seven, and now impeding our sexy time!"

"'Impeding our sexy time.'" Biting your lip did nothing to stop the emerging smile and laugh on your face. God, you loved the hell out of him.

"Would you quit that!" He whined with a theatric shake to your shoulders to get back to the point.

"Sorry, sorry," you placed on your best serious expression, "go ahead, explain."

"Explain?! Do you not remember what happened Saturday?"

Ah, Saturday. It was 11:42 p.m. Eddie—more so his insatiable appetite—had the bright idea of heading to Benny's Diner for the greasiest food to fill his stomach. It was late, and the diner had been empty with the exception of the older waitress smoking near the coffee pot, and he pulled you closely against his side, arm wrapped around waist, and toying with the soft cotton of your pajama shorts that rested against your thigh.

You moaned at the sweetness of the cold milkshake savoring your mouth. "Mm, you want some?" You offered to Eddie.

He was captivated, totally entranced by the pucker of your lips that held the creamy residue, "Mhm, yeah, I do." He whispered.

When you attempted to hand him the cold glass, he gently pushed your hand away, and consumed your mouth in a matter of seconds. The grease from his burger softened his lips, letting the pillowy feeling encapsulate you. Your hands naturally found solace on his jaw, prompting him to continue his movements, hands gripping your smooth thighs to keep you in place. As you parted your lips, Eddie's tongue snaked its way inside, officially getting a taste of that sweet vanilla that you had just swallowed.

"God, baby, you taste so good." He mewled against your lips.

His hand traveled up to your neck, securing your face in his palm, and you let your will fall in his control. His tongue prodded against yours, and the wet sounds of your spit exchanging grew entirely too inappropriate for Benny's establishment, though he didn't care. It was late, he wanted you, and no one was around.

Or so he thought.

"Gross, your gonna suffocate her!" Mike's grimacing voice broke your make out session.

While your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, Eddie scoffed, unbothered. He rolled his eyes, glaring back at Mike, who justly looked appalled, and then there was Dustin, who had that bright, big smile on his face that Eddie was starting to grow annoyed with.

"Well, hey guys!" Dustin greeted with joy. "Funny seeing you here!"

"Isn't it past your bedtimes?" Eddie jumped straight into it.

"Nice to see you, too, Eddie." Dustin smiled. Eddie watched as the kid turned to you, eyes lighting up and everything. "Hi, Y/N!"

"Hey, Dustin." You politely greeted. Unlike Eddie, you didn't have it in you to be so blunt with disdain. "Um, what are you guys doing here so late?"

Dustin jumped with delight, quickly taking your question as an invitation to sit on the dingy booth across from you and Eddie. "Well, since you asked, Mike and I just spent the last five hours completing all twenty-seven games of Combat on my Atari!"

"Wow, that's incredible," Eddie feigned amazement, his sarcasm oozing out obviously, "now that you've told us, go." He gritted.

"Yeah, man, we have to get our food before my mom finds out we left and kills me." Mike extended, still waiting at the end of the table.

But not for long, as Dustin held a tight grip on his agile wrist, pulling him to the seating. "Nonsense, we just got here."

Eddie laughed. Not a good laugh. One of those scary laughs he pulls when he's on the precipice of enragement. "Oh, absolutely not!" His fist slammed on the table. Everyone flinched.

Dustin sneeringly dismissed Eddie, turning to you. "You don't mind if we stay, right? You always said you would welcome us."

Eddie couldn't believe his eyes. Your kindness was actively being exploited, and he watched in disbelief as you opened and closed your mouth to speak, but only an awkward laugh escaped. You peered at Dustin, back at Eddie, then to Dustin again. "Um, s-sure, I guess..."

Dustin whooped with excitement.

"Great." Eddie mumbled to himself.

You shot him an apologetic look that just exuded the words "I'm really sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you." Eddie's anger wasn’t directed at you, and he made sure you understood with a shake to his head to acknowledge, "I'm not mad at you."

He may not have been mad at you, but he was fucking furious with Dustin Henderson.

"You remember?" Eddie's words snapped you from the memory of Saturday night’s diner incident, suddenly brining you back to the setting of Eddie’s room.

You quickly nodded your head.

"Yeah, see." He proved. "And what about Sunday morning?"

Following the events of Saturday, Eddie had slept over yours, letting the resided angry dissolve as he held you in his embrace. He'd been awoken by the succulent smell of your scent, urging his morning hard-on to spring to life against your plushy ass. He tiredly nosed the hair away from the junction of your neck and shoulders to place languid kisses against your skin. His hand snaked over your hip, toying with the cute bow that was situated on the front of your lacy underwear. With a hand on your pelvis, he pushed you back against his boner, letting his wet kisses and pressuring cock stir you awake.

A sleepy whine left your pouting lips, and Eddie nearly busted at the sound of it. "Fuck, baby, you gonna let me use you?" He kissed your neck. "So fucking hard for you, princess, got me dreaming about that pussy in my sleep."

You turned your head, letting both of your lips meet in the middle, as Eddie increased the speed of his hips to hump the globes of your ass. His fingertips soon gathered a firmhold of the front of your panties, pulling upward harshly. You choked on your breath as the fabric of your underwear wedge between your puffy pussy lips, igniting the friction against your pulsating clit. You quickly began to feel the icky sensation of his precum dampening your ass, while your slick soaked your underwear, making you a wet mess all around.

"Let me have your pussy, please, baby." He groaned.

You nodded your head with permission, "Fuck, yes, please."

Eddie was quick to pull your panties from your legs, discarding the piece haphazardly across your room. Your foot hooked behind his leg to keep you nice and open, and just as his fingers were about to pleasure you seeping pussy, the phone rang.

The phone fucking rang.

You flinched at the abrupt noise that was blaring on your bedside table, and Eddie's head dropped against your shoulder in disappointment, a groan muffled by your shirt. "Just fucking ignore it, sweetheart."

"Real quick, I promise, just to make sure everything's good." You swore, as you reached for the phone.

That wasn't going to stop Eddie Munson, though. Right as you picked up, the tips of his finger pressed against your clit, eliciting a shaky "Hello" to escape your mouth. He grinned with satisfaction as he watched your eyes screw shut and your teeth sunk into your plump bottom lip.

But then the next words you uttered truly set him off.

"Oh, h-hi, Dustin."

"What?!" Eddie screamed into your ear. "Hang up the phone right now."

He was stern with his words, and stern with his movements. The pace of fingers quickened, along with your breaths and his patience.

You held up a finger to signal Eddie to hold on, as you tried your absolute best to comprehend the conversation that Dustin was attempting to have with you. "So, yeah, would you like to go to the arcade this afternoon?"

"I- Dustin, now's, uh, now is not r-really a good time- fuck." You gasped softly.

"Yeah, so fucking hang up." Eddie whispered against your cheek, as his hand slide between your wet folds, gathering all of your arousal and coming back to rubbing your pretty clit.

"Why not? Everything alright?" If it wasn’t for the current situation, you would have appreciated the kid’s concern.

"Yeah, yeah- yes!" That response was definitely not to Dustin. "Um, yes, j-just busy with Eds." You breathed out in order to filter out your moans.

"That's right, so fucking hang up!" Eddie yelled loud enough for Dustin to hear, as it was intended towards him, and his hand pulled back, slapping your cunt, the stinging vibrations traveling through your sensitive clit.

"Fuck! Gotta go." The second you slammed the phone back to the receive, Eddie rushed to climb on top of you, swallowing your wails with his hungry lips.

Meanwhile, Dustin was just left dumbfounded, staring at the deadline of his phone.

"Do you see what I'm talking about, baby?" Eddie emphasized, hands cupping your face, pleading that you'd understand.

Snapping back to reality from the memory, you were quick to nod your head again. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry about that."

"No, it's not you." He stressed. "That little shit just knows how to work his way around you. That's why he fucking came here today."

Now, today was Eddie's last straw. At least Sunday morning, he was able to get rid of Dustin and have you all to himself, but today? Today, Dustin ruined one of Eddie's favorite moment with you. A blowjob.

It was late into the evening, as Eddie splayed himself on the worn couch of his living room. His legs lazily rested over the armrest, as he nursed down a beer that was keeping him sane from having to listen the Happy Days theme song that he grew profoundly annoyed with, but he was too lazy to move and grab the remote. It'd been quite a long day for him. During third period, Mrs. Lineker shoved a pop quiz in his face, which he knew he flunked. To top it off, you had missed lunch under the guise that Chrissy Cunningham stole you away to “work on cheer routines.” As if that's not what practice is for, Eddie rolled his eyes at your kidnapping, which he proclaimed it was.

And now you actually were at practice, gone and away from Eddie when he really needed you. That was until he heard the gentle knocking coming from his front door, which he had learned was you. You entered with a bright smile that washed all of Eddie's irritations away. He truly did have a soft spot for you, and only you.

"Hi!" You happily greeted, as you situated yourself on his lap, arms snaking around his neck.

"Hi, baby." He tiredly smiled, as he caressed your sides. "You're back early."

"Yeah, coach cut practice, so I was able to get home and shower to come see you." A shy grin flushed his face as you pecked his nose with a cute kiss.

Who knew this mean guy could crack under nose kisses?

"Good," he huffed, bringing you impossibly close, "been a shit day barely being able to see you. People always stealing you away." He grumbled.

In truth, behind his domineering demeanor that seemed untouchable to anyone, Eddie was quite sensitive when it came to his feelings for you. His biggest fears lied dormant under his tough exterior, only exposing itself in the presence of a safe environment, and it became evident as he hugged you tight, because he truly feared someone would steal you away. Whether it was as superficial as Dustin Henderson seeking your attention, or potentially serious as Chrissy Cunningham who still remained unsure of your relationship after the bullshit Jason Carver fed her. He was terrified that one day you'd listen to your friends and leave. How the hell was Eddie Munson, "Freak" of Hawkins High, suppose to provide you with all the things you deserved?

He did, though. Eddie Munson gave you everything.

"I know, I'm sorry." You whispered, as you kissed his pouty lips.

But he simply shook his head, rejecting your apology. "Don't apologize." He insisted. "It's not your fault you're so lovable."

A smile emerged on his face as he made you giggle. You cupped his cheeks, and gently brushed a couple strands of his bangs to fully capture his eyes that just captivated you.

"You're so lovable, too, Eddie." He deserved to know. "I love loving you."

You gave him a firm, long kiss to solidify your words as fact, because it was. No matter how much he denied it in his overthinking head.

"I love loving you, too, princess."

Your hand traveled down his chest, exposing the bareness, as he only laid in an unbuttoned plaid shirt. "Can I show you how much I love loving you?" He immediately recognized that look in your eyes that always paired so beautifully with your salacious smile.

He blushed under your insinuation, dick twitching and goosebumps rising as your fingertips brushed his happy trail. "I don't want you to think that you have to make it up to me."

"Oh, I know." You kissed his cheek. "But I just really want to. So can I, Eddie? Can I suck your cock?"

"Fuck." His groaned, as you grabbed his semi through his sweatpants. "If I ever answer "no" to that, sweetheart, I want you to take one of Wayne's hunting guns and shoot me with it."

You laughed as you settled between his legs, and he relaxed himself on the armrest of the couch. You opened his shirt further, and ran your hands against his chest and belly before grabbing his sweatpants and shimmying them down his hips. You rubbed his hardening length, planting a quick kiss, before pulling it out of his boxers.

"Fuck, yeah, baby." He cooed, watching your small, delicate hand wrap around his cock to languidly jerk it.

You peered up at him, and quickly crawled up close to his face. "Spit in my mouth, Eddie."

He cursed under his breath, as you felt his dick jump at the request. Unable to formulate words, he quickly nodded. Grabbing your chin, he pulled you into a messy, open-mouthed make out, where his tongue lavished against yours. Soon, his grip stiffened, preventing you from closing your tingling lips. You mewled at the sensation of Eddie's spit invading your mouth, a warm globe situated on your tongue.

You pulled back from his hold, aiming down to his cock, where you parted your lips to let his spit coat himself. “Oh, my fuck- just looking at you is gonna make me cum.”

His abs contracted as you held a firm grip to his cock, jerking the spit to his base and up and around his blistering red head. You suctioned on his frenulum, eliciting the sweet moans he desperately tried to hold back. "Shit, baby, oh my god." He muttered.

You kissed down his shaft, eventually nosing the fuzzy skin of his balls, that tensed at your arrival. Peering up with your large doe eyes, Eddie swore under his breath, meeting your contact, and raking his hand through your hair.

"Yes, princess, suck on my balls." He moaned, as your tongue ravished his taste. "Fuck, get 'em all messy for me, baby, please."

As your left hand jerked him, your right held a tight grip between his thigh and balls to secure all access from his opened legs. Soon enough, you popped one of his large balls into your mouth, his musky scent invading your senses.

"Shit, shit- fuck, make me feel good, sweetheart. God, I'm gonna give you everything I got, baby, just keep sucking." He whimpered.

His hand was yanking the roots of your hair, shoving your nose against the curls of his pubic hair, as your hand circled around his oozing tip. Dating Eddie had led you onto the beautiful journey of learning all his sweet spots, so you knew to massage the area beneath his balls, which quickly proved right, as his body twitched at the mere sensation.

"Oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

With a wet pop, you switched to his other throbbing ball, enjoying the sight of his sticky bangs framing his face and eyes fluttering shut. It was pure fucking heaven for Eddie Munson.

Until it turned into straight hell.

*Knock, knock, knock,* "Hey, guys!"

Dustin. Fucking. Henderson.

Now, Eddie knew he was an asshole; every insult, shove, push, punch, and crime he's ever committed flooded his mind as to what might be the cause of his bad karma. He knew he made bad decisions in his life that very much came to an inconvenience to everyone else in Hawkins, but he never claimed to be virtuous man. But did he really deserve this? This punishment? This torment? This torture?

"Hello? You guys in there?" God, the kid's voice came out like nails on a chalk board to Eddie.

He watched the front door, praying to a god that he sure as hell didn't believe in, that Dustin would leave. But his attention quickly snapped to you, when you dropped one of his balls from his mouth.

You heaved, "We should sto-"

"No, no, no, no, no!" Eddie whined, quickly shoving your head down his cock, quietly moaning at the gag you urged from the forceful intrusion to your throat. "S-sorry, I really need this. Ignore him."

So, you did.

Your tongue swiveled around his shaft, lips dragging the wetness of spit, slobber, drool, and precum up and down his length, as you hollowed in your cheeks to speed along his impending orgasm.

But the knocking was insistent.

"Hey! I know you're in there! I see both your cars out here!" Dustin yelled.

God, this wasn't happening, Eddie thought. It can't be! By far, one of the messiest and best blowjobs he's ever received was being interrupted at this very moment. Not to mention, every time Dustin knocked or spoke, all he got was a mental image of the curly-haired kid that hurdled his orgasm back from release.

Just focus on your beautiful girlfriend sucking on your cock, your beautiful girlfriend sucking on your cock, your beautiful girlfriend sucking on your co-

"Come on, guys! Eddie?! Y/N?!"

You pulled off. Eddie wanted to cry. "Maybe we should stop?" You suggested sympathetically.

Letting go of your head, Eddie dropped his face into his hands in defeat. You felt bad, you honestly did. But there was no way you could continue sucking his dick as Dustin's presence loomed right outside. You sat back on your heels as you watched Eddie huff. There was no longer sadness. Just pure fucking rage.

He stood from the couch, pulling his sweats up, and grabbing a throw pillow to cover his throbbing cock that bulged through the material. He footsteps echoed loudly, each stomp shaking the weak foundation of the trailer. You feared for Dustin's fate.

Throwing the door open, Eddie didn't let Dustin mutter single word of salutations. "What?! What, in the absolute fuck do you want?! What the fuck?!"

Dustin flinched back at Eddie's screams, agitation consuming the kid's face, as every ounce of spit had doused his head from the yelling. Though clearly frightened from Eddie's killing looks, Dustin knew he wouldn't hurt him, especially not in front of you. He was smart. Brushing away the spurts of spit, Dustin merely sauntered past Eddie and into the trailer.

Completely disregarding Eddie, Dustin spoke, "God, who pissed in his cornflakes, am I right?" With a loud giggle, as he sat next to you.

You, who could only awkwardly laugh and rub an remaining drool from your chin that didn't reveal what you were just doing.

Eddie's mouth dropped at Dustin's actions, watching the young boy get comfortable right on the spot that he was just receiving head. If this was a cartoon, steam would be blowing from Eddie's ears. Honestly, if you squinted hard enough, you could probably see it.

"Are you fucking insane?!" Eddie shouted. "Did I say you could fucking come in?! Get out!”

Eddie truly was getting scary at this point, you'd never seen him so angry, it was jarring. Dustin curled into your side, knowing any potential harm wouldn't be done with you by his side. So, he crossed his arms, "No, I just got here."

"Why?!" Eddie threw the couch pillow he was holding—boner long gone—at Dustin's head.

"Because I wanna hang out!" Dustin yelled back. "We're friends, remember." Eddie didn't appreciate the rhetorical question that Dustin implied with stupidity.

"You have other fucking friends!"

God, it was times like these you wished you had the guts to be confrontation.

"No." Dustin pointed out matter of factly. "Mike is on the phone with El, and Lucas went to the comic book store with Max. They're all with their girlfriends."

Eddie pulled his hair as if he was going insane. You'd never seen his eyes so wide. "I'm with my girlfriend, you little shit!" He pointed to you.

Dustin turned to look at you. Oh, no. You knew what was coming.

"Well, Y/N, do you want me to stay?"

"U-um-"

"No!" Eddie quickly interjected. "You don't get to fucking talk to her! She's my girlfriend!"

"Well, she's my friend!"

Eddie breathed out a couple times to catch his breath. His adrenaline was pulsating like crazy, and he was doing everything in his will power to not choke the kid out. "Alright." He panted. "You wanna stay. Stay." Eddie reached for your hand and pulled you from the couch. "But we're not staying with you."

He began guiding you to his room, as Dustin scoffed. "Eddie." You attempted to plead.

"Nope." He was stern with his stance. "Not fucking staying with him."

Eddie had dragged you into his room with a loud slam to his door. And that's where you were right now, in the low light of his bedroom as he reiterated all the interrupted moments caused by Dustin.

"That little shit just knows how to work his way around you. That's why he fucking came here today." Eddie groaned, as he finished his stressing tirade.

"Well, I don't know what to do." You gently spoke to calm his aggravated nerves.

“You gotta give it to him straight, sweetheart." Eddie urged. "He won't fucking leave until you tell him to."

"But I can't do that to him." You pouted. "That's mean."

God, you were so fucking cute. But cute isn't what he needs right now. "Baby, you've been dating me long enough that some of me has had to rub off on you."

You groaned, entirely out of your comfort zone. "Fine, but you have to calm down." You pointed, the best austere look you could muster, discipling him like a kid.

Eddie giggled at you. "Sure, anything for you." He kissed your tense forehead. "Sorry for the yelling."

After a couple more kisses and breaths, you both made your way back to the living room, Dustin still sitting at the same spot, smug look to his face. "Well, that was pretty fast. Miss me already?" Was it wrong that Eddie wanted to punch him right then and there?

"Actually, she needs to tell you something." Eddie sneered back, placing you right on the spot. He sat you right on the coffee table in front of Dustin, standing behind and massaging your shoulders, keeping his hands busy from connecting with Dustin's face. "Go on, babe. Tell him."

"Um, well, Dustin, w-we were thinking that maybe it's best if we have a-a little... alone time." You were walking on eggshells trying to keep both heavily opinionated boys at bay. God, they were more alike than they realized.

"What?" Dustin looked shocked at your revelation.

"What she means is, get out." Eddie smiled with glee.

Dustin scoffed, "What did you do to her?! I know you just made her say that!"

"What?!" So much for being calm. "I didn't make her do anything! She's tired of you always butting in, just too nice to say it! But I'll say it, you're driving us crazy, get out!"

"Shut up! Both of you!" Dustin and Eddie instantaneously quieted down at your newfound voice that they never once heard above its usual soft-spoken octave. "You're both driving me crazy!"

"Well, he started it. Always trying to take your attention." Eddie grumbled.

"Attention?! Are you jealous? Of me? I’m fourteen, you’re like old as shit!"

That snapped Eddie.

He tried to lunge at Dustin, "Okay! Okay!" But you were quick to hug his waist and pull him back. Dustin, of course, dramatically shrieked and fell back onto the couch as if he got hit.

Too much yelling, and too much hair was flying around for your liking. You were going to explode with stress.

"Look, Dustin, we love spending time with you, really, but there are times when Eddie and I just want to be alone together!"

"Yeah!" Eddie laughed at the young boy's sullen face.

But you were quick to turn back to Eddie. "And you! You have got to stop being so mean!" You got close and whispered to him directly. "I know this is rooted deeper for you, but I'm not leaving you, Eddie. Ever. For anyone. Get that through your head. You have every right to be annoyed, but don't so callous towards him or anyone, in general."

Eddie sighed, nodding his head, and understanding your words. Finally, a moment of clarity. He rubbed the wrinkles of your furrowed brows, clearly stressed from having to be placed in the middle of their quarrel. "Yeah, yeah, sorry, baby, you're right."

He leaned down, placing a loving kiss to your lips that denoted all his admiration for you. You both understood his underlying insecurities, and how they transcribed from his shitty childhood. Eddie Munson so undeservingly got dealt a bad hand at life that his pure heart shouldn't have had to endure. But the beauty of Eddie Munson was that his pure heart still remained, even if it was picky with the people it opened up to. You were beyond please you were one of them. Because you loved loving Eddie Munson. And Eddie knew you were worth fixing said issues; anger, insecurity, jealousy. Even if it took a lot of time and a lot of risk. But your heart and face eased his worries. He'd do anything for you.

"Hey, uh," Shit, you almost forgot Dustin was still there, "I'm really sorry, too." Dustin appeared guilty as can be. "I didn't mean to be so annoying."

"No, you're not annoying-"

"Well..."

"Eddie." You swatted his chest.

"Kidding, kidding." He threw his hands up, a chuckle leaving his mouth. "I'm kidding, Dustin."

"Look, it's just nice to know someone like you actually wants to be my friend." Dustin smiled.

"Like me?" You questioned.

"Yeah, you know, funny, popular, and sweet." He nervously played with his hands.

"Aw, Dustin." You hugged him, Eddie playfully scoffed at the melting look blushing over Dustin's face, clearly loving your affection. "You're so cute, but you don't have to prioritize my friendship over the others."

"Yeah, what the hell does she got that I don't?" Eddie smiled, as you rolled your eyes and Dustin at least laughed. He marched over and ruffled Dustin's curls. "Seriously, you getting tired of us in Hellfire?" Eddie teased.

"No, never." Dustin smiled.

"Good, we need you at Hellfire. Who else are we gonna sacrifice during our DnD campaign next week?"

"What?!" Eddie barked out a laugh, as Dustin eventually caught on and eased his heart from the potential worry. "Don't scare me like that."

"But it's so fun." Eddie chuckled.

"Okay, so are we good here? No more yelling?" You assured, pointing at both with your chastising demeanor.

"Yeah, yeah, we're good." Eddie soothed your arm. "Sorry for the stress, baby."

"Yeah, sorry." Dustin added. "But do you really want me to leave?" he peered between both of you.

"Look, kid, how about this," Eddie began, "I'll take you to the comic store, where I'm sure Lucas and Max are still there. Can spend the day with them, while we have our time," he proffered, "and in return, you can stop by tomorrow when Y/N is staying over and work on one segment of our upcoming campaign."

You'd never seen Dustin's face light up so brightly before. "Really? I can help you with DnD?"

"Only one segment." Eddie clarified. "Don't need your mouth blabbin' to the others."

"Deal!"

You could physically feel the weight on your shoulders release as all tension was gone. While Eddie briefly left to change, you made sure to place in an order for pizza, as you both felt deserving of a nice meal after the ensemble that had just occurred. Eddie returned with his jacket in hand and his shoes untied, too unbothered to care.

"I'll be back soon, sweetheart, I'll be sure to be quick," He leaned in planting a wet smooch on your cheek and whispered in your ear, "because my dick still kinda hurts from not cumming."

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #dustin henderson

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headspace-hotel · 5 months

Text

College is good for several things. In the USA, it's good for learning facts about history and the rest of the world that high school either didn't tell you or flat-out lied about. Without college, most people would never encounter the academic resources necessary to unlearn lies and biases instilled by the overwhelmingly USA-centric, whitewashed viewpoint taught in most school systems, or the vocabulary needed to ask after those resources.

If (and only if) you are already extroverted and gregarious, college is good for making friends. It's probably good for some other things too.

But college is not very good for many of the things it supposedly does for people. College appears to be good for personal growth, but any environment with unfamiliar people, new experiences, and a large library would do. In fact, the academic rigors of college are probably mostly incidental to personal growth that occurs there. You learn about yourself in college in spite of, not because of, the rigid and demanding academic expectations, which serve to cement you further in what you think you already know about yourself because that is safer than discovering you might be something totally different.

It also doesn't prepare you very well for any other environment, because it is so different from any other environment you might encounter. At least in the USA, there are hardly any communities that are similar to college. College has an environment of communal living among mostly same-aged people, numerous public spaces, an endless hemorrhage of community-run events, and constant mother-henning by the institution as they encourage you to take advantage of all the services they fail to do a good job at providing. Authority figures are clearly delineated from peers and you have a clear hierarchical relationship with people that are not also students. It is an opportunity to practice adulthood, but one that supports you in the wrong ways and fails to support you in the right ones, both stifling and neglectful.

Colleges are brutally insistent on this peculiar style of community structure that you probably won't ever encounter again in your life, all the while being incredibly unforgiving if you fail to adapt to it. There are lots of rules, some of which are plain-attired descriptions of consequences as real as a granite wall, most of which reflect nothing except the fact that someone in authority would like to prevent a specific type of bad-faith exploitation of a more forgiving policy. The pure-hearted student is supposed to be able to ignore these rules and be judged according to the unspoken, more forgiving policy that is invoked when an authority likes your vibes.

This means part of surviving college is cultivating the right vibes, and part of cultivating the right vibes is being abled and not experiencing any extenuating circumstances ever. If you are having a mental health crisis that is stopping you from succeeding, the truth is as good as a lie; of course everyone struggles with mental health in college in these specific pre-cut ways, have you tried breathing exercises? If you are stressed and terrified all the time and whenever you sit still it feels like the universe is screaming through you, you will be abandoned because crisis is rare and interrupts otherwise normal life, and everyone claims to be having a crisis right now. "This system works!" and if we just repeat it hard enough the system will start to work.

If the truth is as good as a lie, then a lie is as good as the truth, and the ability to receive help when you need it is determined not by actually needing help but by being a better liar.

What if people lie to get accommodations they don't really need? I don't know the answer to this, because I find a different question more compelling: What if people lie to get accommodations they do really need?

Institutions are terrified of the possibility of a person that pretends to be disabled, and often they impress that terror into disabled people, who become terrified that THEY are pretending to be disabled, when probably almost all disabled people must pretend to be disabled because the raw Reality of what they experience as a person would be a brain-melting arcane and eldritch encounter for an Institution. Institutions don't see us. They see broad human tropes, masks worn by any number of actors. Some people are diligent students and some are lazy; some hone their potential and talent and others refuse, for whatever reason, to unlock it. This belief is so fundamental to our entire philosophy of shaping and educating students that if it directly encountered the Truth (whatever that may be), the truth would not survive.

If you want to be a good student (and I wanted to be and I was) the mask will become welded to your face and you will forget it's a mask partly because you will like how much better you were treated with the mask on. I sit in a therapy session, thinking, "Why am I framing my pain in a way that makes it seem less complicated and more solvable but doesn't cut to the truth of the matter? Which one of us benefits from that?"

The world is slowly, woundedly crawling into being a performance where everyone competes to pretend that they aren't dying. I have a version of me that struggles with school because I am autistic, but secretly I suspect successful, well-adjusted college students that manage their mental health and friendships and work do not exist in the way we think they must. After all, what of the numerous college students that cheat, that plagiarize, that make ChatGPT write their essays? My professors can all give examples of students that did, and their poor and shoddy attempts, but all this suggests is that the clever and cunning ones seldom get caught. In dealing with institutions, anything an honest person can do through their honesty, a good enough liar can do better with their lies.

#college #actually autistic #autism

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ladyelissarose · 9 months

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Hello! I really loved your miguel o'hara works , and i would like to make a request,about headcanons of miguel with a sweet and shy housewife reader ,like ,she is always in home ,cooking ,cleaning and taking care of the house in general ,and always welcomes miguel saying how proud is of him and his job,if youre comfortable you can include a nsfw part but if you dont want to you can just make the fluff part , i hope its okay and have a nice day!

Miguel O’Hara x housewife reader

Warnings: there’s the SFW & NSFW headcannons!! Fluff and alll…

Authors note: Thank you for your sweet words hun!! I wish you the best!! And of course I added down NSFW! I had to- it’s Miguel we’re talking about!! But yes.. I hope you enjoy and I met your expectations:)

•Ever since the start of your relationship, you knew Miguel was the Spider-Man of Nueva York, after he saved your life and kissed your scared tears away. He instantly felt a connection with you and knew he had to have you.

•You were very shy tho, and kept to yourself. Only had trips to the library and to the flower shop- you were basically a home-body.. not a fan of being around or in large crowds.. but Miguel made you feel safe instantly and he took you safely home through a path that was quiet and not around much people and noise.

•Miguel was gentle and didn’t push you to do more than you wanted too, and he was the first person that made you feel comfortable with yourself. That’s why after countless dates and swinging trips on his back, you’re happily married to him and are kept safe in your guys’ home. Where you live with and for him while he keeps the beautiful city safe.

•Everyday he’d come home with a new book or a bouquet of fresh flowers, showering you with things that made you happy, to earn him your gorgeous, shy smile. He’s seen all of you and loved you entirely, yet he was proud on how he made you blush everytime he brought something home, and he lived for kissing that cute pouty smile you had.

•To make up for all the gifts he gave you- tho he said payback wasn’t necessary because you were his love and life. You still worked to give him the best life in your shared home. It was only fair since he sheltered you and your heart, and kept your city as safe as he possibly could.

•During the time he was gone, you clean up your home, doing the laundry and fixing up his backup suits that got ruined on missions. And you found comfort in doing such, as they all smelled like him, no matter how much you washed them.

•And he liked it that way, he stopped asking Lyla for remakes of his suit when he found out your cute hands fixed his suits perfectly. He always kissed you deeply and called you ‘his good girl’ once he had it on and it was good to go. Your hands also got sweet kisses as he praised you for your work.

•The city was messy and dark all the time, even while saving the world it had its dark places that were messy and particularly smelly, burning Miguel’s nose sometimes. But when he came home, he was met with the aroma of your sweet scent, it smelled like home and it was his favorite. And one of the best things, it was clean and orderly.

•Miguel loved seeing things in order and perfectly clean, and he had asked you if you had a maid to get all done perfectly- to which you said no. And he found out it was true (not that he didn’t believe you) when one night he came home earlier than usual, and you were up dusting all the little trinkets on the shelf ever so delicately and efficiently.

•His favorite thing to do was come up to you quietly, wherever you were cleaning, and sweep you up in his arms, chuckling to himself when he heard your squeals as he held you up kissing your neck. Praising you for your time to keep things nice, but scolding you for not being in bed resting well and keeping the bed warm for him. Or if it was during the day he’d ask why you’re not reading or enjoying the afternoon.

•Oh and when you cook? OH- that makes Miguel the happiest (besides you and everything that involves only ‘you’) He’s always starving after a long mission or day at Alchemax. So when he comes home smelling your homemade meals, he’s falling in love all over again. His heart growing twice it’s size at the sight of you singing lowly and stirring the pot... or kneading the dough for the empanadas.

•He tried telling you a few times that it was ok for take out once in a while, not wanting you to cool all the time, worried that you might think he only wants that from you if not. But you were always happy to make something new or his favorite, it made you proud when Miguel wore a smile while he ate, complementing,

“...mi amor, esto es delicioso.” (My love, this is delicious)

•You always let him know how proud of him you were. In actions or soft words, and he’d beam proudly and smile sheepishly. A tight hug and good kiss made it onto his lips everytime you caught him coming in through the door or fire escape. You wouldn’t let a word escape until you both were out of breath from crashing lips, you was always the first to break to say how much you missed him- but he’d chase your lips like a mad man. Whining,

“Dejame besarte!” (Let me kiss you!)

NSFW!

•He occasionally grew hard at the sight of you doing something that screamed ‘wifey material’. The cleaning, cooking, fixing, even resting on the couch reading a book- just everything about you made him crave you instantly at sight. So he’d take you wherever it was you were, of course if you wanted to- but you’ve yet to say no (I mean who would-)

•Over the couch he’d take you from behind, whispering praises while kissing your neck, after he caught you reading your new book while resting over the armrest. Your little dress was so cute and gave him access to have you right away, pounding into your pussy slowly yet roughly. Letting his love for you sink in deeply. He loved marking your neck and caressing your sides as he did so.

•Since you were quiet and shy most of the time, even around him, he’d do the most open things to make you blush and push your buttons of pleasure to make you moan out loud, as you were shy at first. One day you were painting a picture of you and him, a replica of a photo you two took at the library, but soon- Miguel was digging his face in between your breasts kissing them softly while he fucked you against the incomplete painting, legs wrapped around his waist tightly. And you couldn’t care about the painting- you didn’t like it anyways after you messed it up earlier (after getting distracted by eyeing the picture too closely)

•One of Miguel’s favorite things to do was eat you from behind while you were tip-toeing trying to reach the top shelf to clean it. You hold onto it tightly while you felt his tongue swipe over your pussy and dig into you, making you pull his hair closer to you as he drew your high close right away, not relenting in eating you out like he starved for your taste. He lived for you coming undone on his face. And when he stayed home afterwards he’d kissed you to taste yourself on his lips, or when he had to go to work, he wear his mask over his coated lips with your juices- either way he leave himself full of you.

•And the kitchen was a good place- HIS FAVORITE PLACE TO FUCK YOU RAW. He was excited already to see his gorgeous, sweet and quiet house wife cook his delicious meals. But soon you became a moaning, crying mess, begging for him to fuck you harder as you were laying on the kitchen table, holding onto his shoulders tightly as he fucked you deeply. And you knew he was in to fuck you in the kitchen, when he’d come from behind you and lower the heat on the stove, if not turn it off.

•Let’s just say Miguel found a perfect wife in you, you completed him in every way and made him happy. From keeping his home warm and happy, safe and bright, to his heart held, loved and cherished- and beating wildly while he took you under his spell and ride of pleasure.

•And you? Could never get enough of Miguel, something of him was always on you, around you, and in you.. sometimes he’d leave his cum dripping from your pussy while you finished your things while he was gone. It made you blush crazy to know only he could pull that out of you, but he was your home and made you confident around him.. so why not?

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara atsv #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara angst #miguel x reader fluff #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #spider man 2099 x reader #spider man 2099 smut #miguel 2099 #astv smut

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likedovesinthewindd · 4 months

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request: I wanted to request a Farleigh Start x fem reader. Where they are both American and he asks that she helps him with an essay. During the process, he starts having feelings for her because of her honesty towards him but she doesn’t realize it until he says it out loud.

★ tags: @darkeyesshine

You were surprised when Farleigh had initially approached you for help on an essay. You knew him, not personally, but the two of you attended tutorials under the same tutor, and before that, you've seen him around campus plenty of times, usually accompanied by his plethora of friends.

You were, however, not at all surprised when he hadn't shown up the next day as he promised. You checked the time on your wristwatch; thirty something minutes passed since you had arrived at the library. You couldn't say it was uncommon for him, considering he wasn't exactly known for his punctuality or perfect attendance, but you'd be dammed if he was going to waste your time when he was the one who needed your help.

You huffed in annoyance, beginning to pack away your books and call it a day when you noticed Farleigh's tall figure appeared from behind one of the bookshelves, eyes darting around until he saw you sitting by one of the long tables. He took a seat at the chair next to yours rather than the one across from you as he started rummaging through his bag.

"You're late," you said, reopening your books and trying not to show too much irritation at his tardiness and still remain cordial. "So sorry ma'am. Won't happen again, ma'am," he said sarcastically as he dropped his books on the table with a loud thud before sighing. "But in all seriousness, I really am sorry. So, uh, shall we start?"

To his credit, he stayed true to his promise (kinda) and would always be early enough for your sessions, most days looking like death itself due to a previous night of partying or studying. Farleigh was actually very smart; people always seemed to forget that considering strings had to be pulled to get him into Oxford due to his past behavior and poor choices. You still liked him, though, and had grown used to his sarchotic personality and the playful banter that came with it.

He himself had grown quite fond of you, too. He liked that you never spared him his own verbal lashings and never sugar-coated anything; whether it was critique on his writing or telling him he wasn't going to see 30 with the way he needed a smoke break every five minutes.

Today was the last session before he was to submit his work for moderation, and as you read through his work for the last time, you could feel his eyes burning holes into the side of your head. You chalked it down to him being really eager to get all of this over with.

"It looks really good," you smiled as you slid the file back to him. You were half expecting him to simply take the file and be on his way with a half-assed thank you thrown your way, but he actually seemed very grateful for your efforts. "I owe you one," was the last thing he said before he was already halfway across the library. Later that night, he would be at your dorm room door with a gift bag in hand.

"A thank you gift," he smiled as you took the bag from him. "It wasn't necessary, but thank you," you said. "It definitely was," he argued, "You saved my ass."

"I also kinda wanted a reason to come and tell you about Anabel's little get-together tomorrow night. The Christmas party?" he added. "I know about it. And I heard its invite only," you said, crossing your arms. "That's why I'm telling you. I'm inviting you," he said very matter-of-factly. "Why do you want me to go, don't you have friends?"

"Are we not also friends?" he said, sighing when your eyebrows knit together in confusion. "C'mon, are you really gonna make me beg?"

"No, I don't mind going with you, I just didn't think you liked me that much," you said truthfully. "Well, I do like you. I really like you," he said with a smile. "Tomorrow night. Seven," he added before he was gone.

#saltburn #farleigh start #farleigh start x reader #farleigh start x you #farleigh x reader #farleigh x you #likedovesinthewindd

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weasleyreidstyles · 5 months

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Serendipity

chapter three

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): cannonical violence, mentions of dark magic and torture

series masterlist; previous part; next part

Over the next few weeks, you and Riddle met up in one of the abandoned Astronomy classrooms to practice your lessons, and the library where you really did attempt to tutor him in Ancient Runes, with little to no luck. He was hopeless at the subject.

You were not friends by any means. You were like oil and water, not willing to step over the line that separated friend from foe. He was infuriating as ever, and he seemed to find your incessant need for asking questions entirely incorrigible. But you'd both come to an understanding: this was a necessary sacrifice for the greater good of your mutual friends. It needed to be done.

Your own friends were starting to question the hours you spent with him and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to lie when Harry spent every spare waking hour, that wasn't spent in school or on the Quidditch pitch, scanning the Marauder's Map.

In this particular session, Riddle had bombarded your thoughts with so much information and strain that you thought you'd pass out from exhaustion at any second.

"You're unfocused." he stated, unamused as he watched your hazed expression.

"You've been hounding me, for hours. I'm tired Riddle. Give me a break." you mumbled, voice low and resentful.

No. It's only been fifteen minutes. Due to your lack of focus, the burning sensation had come back at full force, causing you to stumble into the desk behind you.

He tutted, as he wrapped a strong arm around your waist to support you from injury, knowing Theo would probably maim him if something happened to you. When his hands retreated, his touch left a tingling sensation in its wake.

"Fine. 20 minutes. But the hour's not up yet. We'll carry on afterwards." he sounded as irritated as he looked, which had become a common occurrence in these sessions, not helped by your sarcastic commentary whenever you had the strength to cause an argument with him.

You closed your eyes for what felt like seconds, but it must've been for the duration of your 'break' because he woke you up with a forceful nudge.

"Breaks over. Now block me out like I showed you. We both know you're capable, prove to me that this wasn't a massive waste of time."

The burning sensation was back once again but it was duller than before, more manageable.

Ron saving the most goals he'd ever saved in one singular match.

Trying to teach Riddle a simple Rune pattern.

Hermione running out of the Gryffindor common room, tears streaming down her face.

Lavender Brown snogging your best friend.

You successfully locked your thoughts away, securing the lid of the 'box' with a mental thud, watching as the distinct orb of energy you'd recognised as Riddle's magical core, floated to a standstill in your mind.

"Good." he says, his face impassive. "Again."

He enters your mind with more vigour, but you're prepared this time, focusing your energy on keeping the ball of his magic confined to one area of your mind, to stop him unlocking all your thoughts.

What he didn't know was that you'd been reading up on Occlimency in any spare time you had to yourself, which was slim. You focused all your attention on that bright silver orb in your mind and pushed back with as much strength as you could muster. Startled, Riddle's shields fell momentarily.

You found yourself watching him from an outsider's perspective. You were in his home, the Riddle mannor, which gave off an air of stale coldness. Like death itself had taken up residence there. Then you heard it. The low hissing of a snake, Nagini – the snake that had attacked Arthur Weasley just over a year ago.

You watched as she glided past you, towards the shadow of a figure you were too afraid to face.

"My son." Voldemort says, in a creepy sort of drawl. "Have you done as I requested?"

You watched as Riddle, cold and indifferent as always, sucked in a breath before he stared his father in the face. Wordlessly he let the double doors behind him open, letting Malfoy and Berkshire stumble into the room, eyes flickering nervously.

"Yes father." he sounded resentful. And you caught the glance he shared with his two friends. He looked remorseful and almost...sad.

"And what of Master Nott? Master Zabini?" you saw Riddle's facade fall for only a moment, then watched as his shields slipped as he cradled the back of his head with a barely contained wince. Voldemort was in his head.

"Very interesting, my son." Voldemort hissed, eyes narrowed on the boy, who looked entirely too small under his father's watchful glare. "This must be remedied. Perhaps a little punishment will remind you of your place."

Then you watched as a father cast an unforgivable on his only living heir.

You were forced out of his mind with a push similar to what you had done to him, and when you cast your eyes onto his, you found twin obsidian irises...glaring at you.

"Satisfied?" he snarled, stalking towards you, backing you against the wall of the classroom. "Do you feel accomplished, sweetheart?"

The way his fists clashed with the wall on either side of your head prevented you from interpreting this new nickname. You stared up at him, shock and apprehension painting your features.

His eyes, once a cool, calming brown were like deep, black holes, narrowed on your expression. It scared you, rendered you speechless.

You should be scared, sweetheart. I didn't give you permission to do that. Gods, even the voice in his head was frightening. He was menacing.

He seemed to break out of his staring trance and shook his head slightly, as if this was an outer body experience for him. He looked surprised at being so close to you; you swore his eyes trailed from your own to your lips, but it must've been a nasty trick of the light, to dissuade you from this crazed persona he suddenly harboured.

He sighed as he pushed off the wall and without a word, he left. Once again leaving you standing alone in a dark, empty room.

~∞~

The first Hogsmeade trip of the year is always a fun affair. You remember the very first time you stepped out of the carriage onto the cobblestone streets of the town with Ron and Hermione during your third year. And just like that first time, it was magical every year.

This year seemed extra special. Snow was falling heavily from the bright white sky and the third years were having fun throwing snowballs at each other. You were bundled up in warm clothes: hat, scarf, gloves and giant coat, in hopes of not having your limbs freeze.

"I am begging you," you mumble to the Golden trio, who walked beside you, "can we please go to the Three Broomsticks? I'm in need of a Butterbeer. Or better yet, a hot chocolate. I'm so fucking cold."

Ron only laughed at you while you shivered; they all agreed before he yelped and began hastily running away when he realised his detrimental mistake.

The idiot had dumped a load of snow on your head.

"RONALD!" you scream, but it's drowned out by your own laughter, along with Harry and Hermione's, the latter of which hadn't laughed much recently. "I'll get you for that you wanker!"

Your friends had seldom had time to have a proper laugh this year. Each busy with their own endeavours: Ron with his new girlfriend Lavender; Harry with Slughorn, under Dumbledore's ample instruction and Hermione, who was putting all her effort into avoiding the former and trying to persuade Harry to get rid of his potions book (which had given him a fast track to top of the class). It was a wonder that you'd convinced them to come along.

When you entered the pub, sodden and cold from the barrage of snow that Ron had unleashed on you, the warmth of Madame Rosmerta's heating charms caressed you like a tight hug. Unwrapping your scarf from your shoulders and removing your coat, gloves and hat, you slumped into the cushioned seat of a nearby empty table, not taking into account the surrounding occupants.

Riddle was sat among his friends, watching you. He'd been doing that more since he walked out on you a week ago. He didn't turn up to your next session a few days afterwards, and when he didn't show earlier that day, you walked out of the room, incredibly annoyed. But you weren't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was beginning to affect you.

As you sat side on at the table, with Ron facing his back to them, you saw how, despite his guard being held up extremely well, he huffed a laugh when Enzo said something entirely unfunny and rolled his eyes when Theo said something dramatic. You also saw how his jaw visibly clenched when Pansy was talking about the recent boyfriend who ended up being a complete dick. You wouldn't be surpised to find the boy beaten to a bloody pulp later.

You paid attention to your friends when Harry dropped a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of you.

"You truly are a life saver, oh Chosen One." you tease as he takes the seat opposite you.

"Piss off." he mumbles, but the smirk on his face tells you that he's not annoyed.

"I feel like we haven't spoke in ages." you say to your friends, who despite all being happy to see you, look like they'd rather be anywhere else. "How's being Captain treating you, Harold?"

As you let your friend mumble on about the stresses of looking after a group of rowdy quidditch players, you can't help the feeling that something terrible was going to happen.

~∞~

An hour or so later, the four of you were wandering down an icy path back up towards the carriages that would take you to the castle, the only other people around were Katie Bell and her friend Leanne, who seemed to be immersed in an argument that you paid little attention to.

Hermione was arguing with Harry about his potions book again when the air around you went eerily still. Then you felt it, this strange feeling. It was magic, you'd recognise the feeling from anywhere, but this was different, it felt entirely too dark.

When the four of you rounded the corner of the lane, that feeling grew inexplicably. Leanne had tried to grab a brown paper package from Katie's grasp but the latter had tugged it back, causing whatever contents inside to fall to the ground. That eery feeling seemed to increase tenfold and you staggered to a holt as Katie Bell was hoisted into the air by an invisible force.

The sight was harrowing. She was six feet in the air by the time you'd raced to where Leanne was panicking. The package appeared to be an antique opal necklace, and it was omitting a deadly magical signature. It was without a doubt, cursed.

Harry went to touch it, but you rapidly grabbed his arm. "Don't. It's been cursed."

He looked at you incredulously but at that moment, poor Katie, who's hair was whipping wildly in her expressionless face, let out a gut renching, terrifying scream.

It seemed that Riddle and his friends rounded the corner at that moment; Theo and Pansy running to stand beside you, faces matching your own. Katie was still screaming when Riddle went to examine the necklace.

"It's been cursed." he mumbled to himself.

"We've already established that, Riddle." you mutter, glaring at him. He ignored you. "We can't deal with this ourselves. We need a teacher."

He seemed to agree with you as he sent Enzo and Zabini running back to the pub in search of someone, anyone. In the meantime, Katie seemed to be losing height and was getting lower to the ground, although she was still writhing uncontrollably. Mattheo, Theo and Ron managed to gently lower her body to the ground and you immediately went to check her over, until she began thrashing and screaming again, knocking away your approaching hand, sending an excruciating sensation up your forearm.

You winced, but only Riddle seemed to notice.

Enzo and Zabini came sprinting up the lane at that moment, Hagrid following hastily behind them.

"Get back!" the gamekeeper yelled, prompting you to all back away from Katie.

Leanne was a mess, sobbing as she tried to explain to Hagrid but he seemed to hear none of it as he stared down at the writhing girl for a moment. Without a word, he scooped her into his arms and began to run back up to the castle with her, carrying her piercing screams with him.

Hermione and Pansy immediately went to Leanne's aid, but you didn't move from your spot on the floor, staring at your arm, that was still burning.

Someone knelt in front of you, and expecting Theo, you looked up, startled to find Riddle, staring at you.

You looked away from him, but he cupped your chin with his fingers to bring your gaze to his.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, a curious look on his face, and underlines of worry were there too. But you only had one concern.

"Why could I feel the dark magic in that necklace? And why did she burn me and not any of you?" you asked timidly. You appeared to be shaking, from the adrenaline or the cold, you were none the wiser.

"I'm not sure, but we'll figure it out." he assured, he looked as confused as you felt.

"How?" you snapped. "You haven't shown up for the past week, Riddle."

He sighed as if annoyed before he did something you didn't know he was caple of.

"I'm sorry, okay. You caught me off guard, and I panicked. I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"Did you just apologise to me, Mattheo?" a slow smile began to graze your face.

"Tell anyone and I'll make you regret it." he muttered, but his brown eyes carried mirth as he stared at you.

You were about to reply when you saw Ron in the corner of your eye crounching bu the antique necklace.

"Don't touch it, Ron!" you said, jumping up, bursting the bubble that you and Riddle had created. Your friend startled and moved away from the necklace.

"I've seen it before." Harry mumbled and you watched as Riddle and all his friends tensed, it was a wonder that none of the boys you were with started throwing insults towards eachother. "On display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed, Katie must've touched it."

Theo scoffed, which seemed to remind the trio that the Slytherins were still there.

"Something to say, Nott?" Ron snapped.

"Anyone with a brain can see that it was cursed, Weasley. But you still went to touch it. Thank Salazar for Meadow." Theo rebutted and you had half the mind to stand between the two of them to stop the fight, but you felt lightheaded. You needed to sit down, or maybe sleep for a week.

You grabbed hold of the closest thing for stability: Riddle's stupidly strong arm. He startled but said nothing as he held you up, hands cradling your forearms.

What's wrong? His voice was a soft caress.

I feel like I might pass out. My arm is burning.

Did you touch the necklace?

I think I'd be halfway in the air if I did, Mattheo.

He looks concerned.

I'm taking you to Madame Promfrey. Take the necklace too.

He seems to say something to Theo, who interrupts a sobbing Leanne in favour of levitating the necklace away.

"We'll take this to Madame Pomfrey." he says and at Hermione's troubled look, he reassures her. "Meadow's with us. She'll make sure it gets there Granger."

With that, you're guided away by the Slytherin prince and all his friends, but it all feels like a fever dream.

~∞~

the change in nickname🫢

and Meadow called him Mattheo instead of Riddle🤭

gonna start a taglist too, as its been requested so comment if you want to be added xxx

taglist:

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8

#mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #theo nott #ron weasley x reader #harry potter #hogsmeade #serendipity series

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r3starttt · 4 months

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Look what you started

a/n: i love this sm, first time writing something +18 detailed so any suggestions are more than welcomed 🩷

Prt 2.

Warnings: mentions of murder, stabbing, blood, bullying, oral (r! receiving) fingering (r! receiving), dom e!, sub r!, “mama” “princess” “babe/baby”.

and I think that’s all, let me know if there’s something else Ty!

“You took this shit from zero to a hundred, babe”

You’ve gotten into a very privileged arts university. Your dream had always been becoming an artist so you’d do anything necessary to achieve it. You got there with help of a scholarship and even though you weren’t the only one, people couldn’t contain themselves, so they stared to make fun of you for not being as rich at them, how fucking stupid.

But how could you guilt them? they were born rich, grew up rich, didn’t had to fight for anything in life and all of them were ignorants with luck, very good luck. And then there was you and all the other not so privileged students who had to prove they were worth the money. Who had to basically beg to be where they were and who had to conform with being treated like dogs.

And your life was that until you meet Ellie. People talked about her and how cruel she was, yet for you she was just another rich girl at your school.

There were rumors about how she got killed anyone who deared to disrespect her the minimum, or at least that’s what people thought since every time someone didn’t treated her with pure privilege they would loose everything and then disappear.

She was also the best student, excellent grades, loads of awards and recognitions, never had failed an exam in her whole life. And of course people talked about it, because as much as rich kids try to bully the non privileged, they’ll still recognized they’re unable to be smart and try hard, they’re too privileged to even think about it.

So when Ellie first approached to you when you were on the library preparing for an exam you thought your life was over. You thought you had nothing to offer to her so you probably did something that got her mad without realizing. Maybe she got mad because she noticed how you stayed nearby whenever people gossiped about her?. Whatever it was, this was it. You were the perfect target.

“I’ve been looking at you for a while, I like you” you freezed, she looked so serious and confident to be lying, why would she? “Let’s go on a date, if you don’t like me back I’ll leave you alone” you probably looked as freaked out as you felt because a smirk formed on her freckled face “I won’t hurt you I promise, not unless you do something wrong” you didn’t cared if she meant it or not, if this was a threat or a very cheap way to try and convince you. Whatever it was you couldn’t take any risks “it’s fine, I’d like to”.

And that’s how all started, she wasn’t anything like what you were expecting. She was caring and so polite. After the first date you had with her you couldn’t help but fall for her completely. So you kept going on dates until eventually you’ve started to date officially.

People kept on talking shit about you, and it got even worse once you started to date her. Comments about how you were only with her for the money and how you’d dump her once collage was over were the ones that repeated the most.

And Ellie couldn’t take it. She tried her best to not care until you got physically abused by one of those students. It was the first time you feared her, she was mad and screaming at you, you feared she could hurt. And ironically it was that same fear that made you confess yourself in the very beginning.

One week or so after the incident, the girl that had left your body bruised went to you, screaming how a bitch you were for complaining to Ellie. She told you how her parents got fired, how she had got expulsed from collage and how her life was going down, how this was all your fault.

And you knew nothing about her after that day. Until Ellie took you on a date, or so you thought, because where you got to the place you were supposed to have the date you saw her, the girl that had spread rumors about you, the girl that grabbed you by the hair because she was jealous and then proceeded to hit you.

And you were confused, blinded. You knew what this was all about but didn’t want to accept it.

You were in front of the girl, she was on her knees, arms and legs tied up “I’m so sorry, I swear I won’t tell anyone just let me go. You’ll never see me again please” the girl begged, her voice was loud and shaky.

“Girl, you know what you did”

You turned your face to look at Ellie, she was sitting on a chair behind you. You were studying her face, but there was no single thing you could read on her. Her gaze turned straight to your scared eyes “cmon… what’re you scared of mhm?” her voice was the same gentle one that made you fall in love with her yet you were freaked out “go on pretty girl, I know you can do it” she stood up and walked to you, cupping your almost teary face with her cold hands “do it for me yeah?” her lips pressed on yours and then she let go of you.

She leaned you a knife and caressed your shaky hand softly with her thumb, you could feel her eyes looking through you. You just nodded quietly, letting her know you would do it.

“Look what you started”

The girl kept on screaming and begging for you to stop, but the fear, the shock and the rage combined on your body made you blurry her voice. You could her nothing but your heavy breathing and the way your steps sounded on the floor as you got closer.

And just as you blinked you realized the knife in your hand was now buried deep into the girls neck. Blood all over your face, all over your body. You hated blood, even your own, you wanted to throw up. Your hand moved without you realizing it, in and out of the girls body. Blood kept coming out, making a mess of you.

You felt sick, not because of what you did but because of how dirty you were. Just before your thoughts could get all over your mind, a pair of cold hands embraced your body from behind, taking the knife slowly off your hands.

“You did so good baby” her hands move from your hands to your shoulders, the knife was now on her hands. She turned you around softly and hugged you tightly. You could hear her heartbeat as she pressed your head on her chest. “I’m so proud of you, you’re good now, calm down yeah?” You felt her rubbing your back with her hand, up and down on until the euphoria eventually disappeared.

She assured you her dad would take care of it, you trusted her since now you knew it wasn’t the first time this happened. You took a last glance on the girls cold dead body before Ellie escorted you away, back to the car she had drove you on before all happened.

During the drive home you could only stare at her. You felt the dried blood all over you and some hairs sticking on your face. Your mind was so full of thoughts It felt empty. This was the first time you killed someone, how could you pretend everything was fine?

There was a mix of euphoria and insane guilt, seeing them bleed out on the floor infront of you and ellie after you’ve stabbed them was disgusting and just shocking.

“What’s going through your head?”

As ellie drove, she looked over at you a few times with a smug smile, noticing how you were staring back “why are you so quiet? are you worried you’ll get caught?” her right hand moved on top of yours, tangling her fingers with yours. “Mhm?…no” you let out a loud sigh “just…. It’s the blood, I hate it”

“Are you sorry?”

“you’ll get used to it babe” ellie said in a reassuring tone as she looked back out on the road, continuing to drive them back to Ellie’s apartment “its always hard in the beginning, the guilt can make you want to throw up and you dont even realize how much you want to look away when the blood begins to pour”

“There’s nothing else to say”

You just nodded in silence. You were too shocked to do anything else, too tired from your thoughts to speak as you usually did. “I’ll be good, I’ll get over it” you reassured, more for yourself than to calm Ellie.

The rest of the drive back to Ellie’s was quiet. Just some music from the radio that you eventually turned on to try and focus on something else than your sticky body and the smell of blood all over you.

Once you got there she helped you get out of the car, grabbing your hands all the way to her apartment. Everything felt so surreal. Time was slow yet so fast and your body felt like it wasn’t yours. Maybe it was the smell of blood that was overwhelming you.

She lead you to her bathroom and turned the water on for you to shower. Her hands were all over your body as she helped you get undressed “you won’t to it again, I just wanted that bitch to get what she deserved” you felt her lips pressing on your forehead gently and her hands holding yours “it’s okay ellie, I’m fine” your appearance said the total opposite. Tainted cheeks, plump shaky lips that you were biting since you got out of the car, teary empty eyes and a body full of blood. Yet Ellie showed no mercy or empathy towards you, she did loved you, just not enough to feel pity for your looks. She had got what she wanted from you.

Ellie got in the shower first, leading you with her hands holding yours. You felt the hot water running all over your tense body, you could see how it turned red and how the blood on your face started to run all over your body, from your hair to your toes.

She helped you to clean yourself, she was moving your body as she wanted to, yet you didn’t hesitate. Too full of thoughts to even try to.

Her hands full of shampoo giving you a scalp massage, then full of soap removing the blood from your body. Soft kisses here and there as she cleaned you. Her hands all over your body, so tender and gentle. “Hey…. look at me, mhm? c’mon” you stared at her tattoo as she grabbed you by your chin “stop thinking about it, we’re fine, there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll never dare to put you in any danger” your eyes finally connected with hers, and so did your lips. Water running in between your bodies and mouth, tasting a bit like soap.

Ellie slowly ran her fingers down your torso, your hips, and your thighs, as a corky smile appeared in her face “you’re so beautiful” she whispered gently “and you’re all mine”. her lips kept on going lower and lower leaving tiny bites and kisses from your jawline, to your neck, to your clavicle. Her body pressed close against yours as water run in between.

You felt how her lips latched around one of your hardened nipples, sucking on it as one of her hands toyed with the other. A low whimper came out of you now slightly opened mouth as your hands moved at the back of Ellie’s hair, playing with it. She kept on leaving kisses all over your body, a few small bruises on your chest.

Ellie started to slide down on her knees, slowly, dragging her nails along your tender skin. You moved your head along her body, staring at her every move. Your hands cupping Ellie’s face gently, making her look back at you.

She stared back as she let her fingers gently move up and down your body, feeling the smoothness of your skin under the warm water. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you, ever” she spoke softly, pulling your body close to her.

"I love you" you replied on a whisper. Your hands moved closer to Ellie’s lips, moving your thumb on top of her lips, caressing them. Ellie moved her mouth to cover your thumb, kissing it and sucking it slightly. “i love you too princess".

Just as you removed your thumb from her pretty lips you saw how she got her face close to your cunt, leaving small kisses on it as her hands move around your thighs. Her nose pressing on your clit caused shivers all over your body, moving your hands back to Ellie’s hair, pulling her even closer to you.

The mix of the warm water and your skin sticking on her made it so hard for her to breathe but she didn’t mind it, she was to focused on your pleasure and how delicious you taste to even bother.

Her tongue slowly sliding in between your folds as her nose presses on your plump delicate bud. You kept on letting out small whimpers, almost as if you were crying from pleasure, needy for more.

Her hands moved up, from your thighs to your breasts, cupping them and toying with your nipples again. Her tongue moving up and down, side to side and in all posible patterns on your sensitive cunt, teasing you by licking just outside your entrance.

She continued with her motions, until you were shaking and feeling a knot of pleasure forming on your stomach. Just as you’re nearing your orgasm she stops abruptly. Both, her hands and tongue stopped moving.

Before a confused look could form on your face, her right hand slid down your body to your now aching cunt, slowly circling your entrance “you’re doing so good for me baby” her face moved to make eye contact with you once again, smiling at the sight of your desperate face “let me hear you mhm? be loud for me” and you nodded.

Two of her fingers finally plunged in, curling and hitting just the right spot. You did as she asked and started to moan her name loudly “m-mmhm Ellie…. please” your voice came out a bit shaky.

“please what mhm? say it mama, c’mon” her thrusts became more aggressive each second, making it harder for you to speak, to focused on the pleasure “m-more” you managed to beg.

Her face got closer to your clit again, sucking on it as her fingers kept on thrusting on your cunt. The sound of your whimpers made her grown, sending vibrations to your sensitive bud and making you moan nonstop.

“m’gonna cum” you moan dumb, and you can feel how she get more aggressive and fast, until the knot on your stomach finally releases. And as you turn your face down you can see her licking all.

Her fingers kept on moving after you had released, slowing down and finally retiring them out of your cunt, licking them.

She gave you a small kiss on one of your thighs before standing up again. Water running over your bodies “liked your reward?” she said gently, pressing her lips with yours before you could even answer. You could feel her smiling.

“If this is what I’ll get for killing annoying bitches then I’ll do it more frequently” your breathing was still a bit shaky as you spoke, making Ellie chuckle “you’ll get this just for being with me”.

And now it’s your turn to clean her properly, and maybe even reward her back, just for having a soft spot for you.

Prt.2

#ellie tlou #look what you started 𓄼 ⨟ 🎚️˖ ✶#ellie williams #ellie x y/n #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie smut #ellie the last of us #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams tlou2 #Spotify #ren masterlist ᵎᵎ ִ ۫ ּ ⊹

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papercorgiworld · 4 months

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He had it coming, you had it coming

You try to put the guys in their place, but you’re in over your head.

Mattheo and Theo

Warning: short smutty story with some noncon!

I’m also writing something longer that involves all the Slytherin guys. I’ll probably post it somewhere between next week and never, who knows…

Mattheo Riddle

Mattheo always had had a short fuse, getting in more trouble than necessary, but the past week even looking at him the wrong way had him throwing punches or spells. So, the Weasley twins should’ve known better. Pulling pranks on Slytherins always was a risky game, but the wise thing would’ve been to postpone the plan of mischief and wait for Mattheo to return to his slightly more reasonable self. However, Fred and George were not known for their wisdom or patience.

You had just left the library and were on your way to your dorm, when you saw George being hit with a spell and being blasted against a wall. Leaving Fred shocked and vulnerable for an old fashioned punch. Instinctively you run towards your friends. As Fred falls to the ground, you see Mattheo pointing his wand at Fred. Without thinking you pull out yours and disarm Mattheo. You should’ve left it at that, but your frustration with the Slytherin had been building up and just reached its boiling point. With a swift flick of your want you threw him several meters back.

The hallway is filled with an immensely thick silence, a symptom of the tension. It is only then that you realize how many students saw the whole ordeal. With his wand far away, Mattheo crawls up from the floor defeated. You look at him still shocked by your own actions. His dull and defeated eyes quickly turn into scowl. “Brilliant!” You hear Ron yell from somewhere in the crowd and you actually feel satisfied with your actions. “McGonagall's coming!” Suddenly everyone scatters. You quickly pick up Mattheo’s lost wand, without anyone noticing, and walk away with your friends. “He had it coming.” Is all Mattheo hears you say before you leave his sight.

***

The next morning you go sit with the Weasley’s, when you mention you have Mattheo’s wand you get mixed reactions. Fred and George: “Wicked!” Ron: “Blimey, you really are a mad genius.” He emphasizes the ‘mad’ part. Harry panics. “That’s Voldemort’s son, what were you thinking?” No support from Hermoine. “You know what Hogwarts’ motto is.” Ron comes to your defense. “The dark lord’s spawn over there really was no sleeping dragon. He was terrorizing everyone.” Hermoine simply quirks an eyebrow. “So do your brothers.” Before the conversation escalates Ginny chimes in. “How about you return Riddle’s wand as a peace offer.” Harry mocks her words. “Peace?” Ginny simply tilts her. “Oh, you have a better idea?” Harry is silent for a moment. “Beauxbaton is a good school.” You stare at him for a moment in disbelief. “I’m not leaving Hogwarts! He’s just one guy. And I have you guys.” “Yeah, except for first period.” Hermoine points out. “No worries, Riddle always skips the first hour of class on friday.” Spoiler alert: not today.

During class Mattheo had been lounging in his chair at the back of the classroom, his eyes never leaving your back, his cocky smile ever present. You on the other hand had been chewing your lip for an hour. When class ended you practically ran outside, only to realize halfway that you had forgotten your notebook. Expecting the classroom to be empty by now you carefully open the door, stepping inside. “Professor?” “Better.” Mattheo says, closing the door behind you, locking you in. All your senses are heightened as you turn to him. “I’m here for my notebook.” Mattheo nods, grinning as he holds your book. “This?” He asks feigning innocence. “What do you want, Riddle?” You snap at him. He walks over to you with anger in eyes, but stops only inches from you. “My wand back.” He takes a step pushing you back. “Maybe, my dignity back.” Another step, you hit one of the desks in the room. You can’t back up anymore and he towers over you. “But mostly, you.” His lips smack onto yours, pushing you onto the desk behind you, hips clashing into another. Your mouth falls open when he squeezes your ass, giving Mattheo the opportunity to deepen the kiss. He keeps rolling his hard dick against your pussy and the sensations start building up, making you moan. This is the only signal Mattheo needs to unzip his pants, revealing his hard cock to you. A simple ‘oh’ is all that escapes your mouth at the view. Mattheo makes quick work of your panties. He lines himself up with your cunt, teasing your folds with his tip. “You had it coming, love.” Is all he says before turning you into a moaning screaming mess.

Theodore Nott

You and Nott had been academic rivals and you got on each other's nerves a lot, but never like this. Professor Slughorn stared at you with a frightened look as you turned your entire bag upside down in search of your 6 page essay. You were going insane, you had worked too hard on it for it to just disappear on the date you had to turn it in. “Well, you can always turn it in tomorrow.” The professor offers. “But then I will lose points for being late. I swear I have it here somewhere.” You can hear Theodore snicker in amusement as you’re losing it. Then it hits you. Of course. Playing dirty to make sure I don’t steal your top of the class spot. Oh, but, I can play dirty too, Nott!

You come up with a genius plan, to have your revenge. In between homework and rewriting your potion’s essay you manage to gather all the ingredients you need. The next day you make your way to the kitchens, carefully calculating where Theo will sit and from which cup he will drink. You’ve always been friendly to all houselves so when they see you’re up to no good, they look away allowing you to carry out your plan. You hurry to make your way to the great hall for breakfast and watch as Theo drinks his orange juice like a good boy. You are already having so much fun knowing Theo will get into trouble because of you.

First up: poisons class. You take up your regular spot next to Neville and Theo goes to sit in the back by himself, since his potion’s partner is as always skipping class. The first time you look over at Theodore he’s scribbling down notes next to the instructions in the book, the next time you glance over his head is on the table and he’s softly asleep. You smile content with the result of your scheme. You see Slughorn squint his eyes a few times in annoyances as he looks over to his favorite student sleeping in class. Right before the end of class, Slughorn makes his way over to Theodore to slam the book in front him shut with a hard thud, waking a very confused Slytherin. “I must say I’m disappointed in you. Am I really boring you this much?” Theodore’s eyes widened. “No professor. I, I don’t know what happened.” “Did some girl get you all exhausted, Theo?” Blaise snickers, making everyone laugh. “No need for jokes, Zabini.” The professor dryly states, disappointment all over his face. Blaise raises his eyebrows suggestively at Theo still waiting for an answer, but he simply shakes his head. No, no girl kept me up all night.

He scans the room, gathering his books as everyone is making their way to the door. His eyes fall on you, you’re looking the other way but he can still see a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. Maybe there is a girl involved after all. As you leave with your friends Theo hurries behind you, overhearing you talk. “After what he did, he had it coming.”

You’re still enjoying the image of Theodore’s confused face during class as you walk alone to the DADA classroom. Suddenly a strong hand grabs your wrist pulling you to an empty hallway. “You played dirty, (y/l/n). Why did you do that?” You scoff, pulling your hand from Theo’s grip. “You stole my six page essay. You know how long I've worked on that.” Theo takes a step closer, clearly frustrated with you. “I did not steal your essay. I don't need tricks like that to be the best.” You poke his chest with your finger. “You did. Admit it! You played dirty.” He grabs your hand and pushes you against the wall. “I don’t need to play dirty to out best you in poisons.” You fall silent as his body pushes against yours. You make the mistake of looking in his eyes, sparking something inside of him.

“But, I might just play dirty with you.” With that he grabs your arm and turns you around. Your hands rest against the wall keeping you steady as his weight presses against you. “What are you doing?” You manage to whisper while his lips brush your ear and cheek. His lips settle on the flesh of your neck just below your ear. You gasp and throw your head back a little, resting on his shoulder. With you distracted by the sudden kiss his hand quickly slides up your inner thighs. Before you’ve properly processed where he’s going Theo has already slipped his hand down your panties, two fingers exploring your folds. You’re still locked between the wall on which you rest your hands for much needed support and Theo’s warm weight against you back as he mercilessly digs his fingers in your pussy. Soft whimpers leave your lips and Theo presses himself even more against you. “Are you enjoying yourself?” When you don’t immediately respond he starts circling your clit even more. You want to protest, but all you do is moan his name. “You’re close aren’t you, princes?” You bite your lip to keep yourself from screaming as he says the pet name with a husky voice. You only nod as a response to his question.

Then suddenly his fingers leave your desperate cunt and his warmth also disappears as he takes a step back. A weak sound of protest leaves you and he simply stares at you with a cocky smile as you push your thighs together to deal with his sudden absence between your legs. He licks your juices off his fingers and turns away from you. “What are you doing?” You ask, way more desperate than you intended to. “Playing dirty, princes. You had it coming.” You watch him walk away, craving his touch.

#mattheo riddle #theodore nott #mattheo riddle x reader #theodore nott x reader #slytherin #mattheo riddle imagine #theodore nott imagine #papercorgiworldwritings

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ask-the-prose · 9 months

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Do Your Research

This phrase is regularly thrown around writeblr and for good reason. It's important to research what you are writing about to know what to include, what can be fudged, and how to depict whatever you're writing. I see "do your research" most thrown around by well-meaning and highly traditionally educated writers. It's solid advice, after all!

But how do you research?

For those writers who don't already have the research skills necessary to write something comfortably already downloaded into your brain, I put this guide together for you.

Where do I even start?

It's a daunting task, research. But the best place to start is with the most basic, stupidest question you can think of. I'm going to talk about something that I already know a lot about: fighting.

When researching fight scenes, a great way to start is to look up what different weapons are. There are tons out there! So ask the stupid questions. What is a sword? What is a gun? How heavy are they?

Google and Wikipedia can help you a lot with these basic-level questions. They aren't great sources for academic articles, but remember, this is fiction. It doesn't need to be perfect, and it doesn't need to be 100% accurate if you don't want it to be. But knowing what is true to life will help you write well. Just like knowing the rules of writing will help you break them.

You may find in your basic research sweep that you have a lot more specific questions. Write them all down. It doesn't matter if they seem obvious. Write them down because they will be useful later.

How To Use Wikipedia Correctly

Wikipedia is a testament to cooperative human knowledge. It's also easy to edit by anonymous users, which means there is a lot of room for inaccuracies and misleading information. Wikipedia is usually pretty good about flagging when a source is needed or when misleading language is obvious, but Wikipedia itself isn't always the most accurate or in-depth source.

Wikipedia is, however, an excellent collection of sources. When I'm researching a subject that I know nothing about, say Norse mythology, a good starting point is the Wikipedia page for Odin. You'll get a little background on Odin's name and Germanic roots, a little backstory on some of the stories, where they appear, and how they are told.

When you read one of the sentences, and it sparks a new question, write the question down, and then click on the superscript number. This will take you directly to the linked source for the stated fact. Click through to that source. Now you have the source where the claim was made. This source may not be a primary source, but a secondary source can still lead you to new discoveries and details that will help you.

By "source-hopping," you can find your way across the internet to different pieces of information more reliably. This information may repeat itself, but you will also find new sources and new avenues of information that can be just as useful.

You mean I don't need a library?

Use your library. Libraries in many parts of the US are free to join, and they have a wealth of information that can be easily downloaded online or accessed via hardcopy books.

You don't, however, need to read every source in the library for any given topic, and you certainly don't need to read the whole book. Academic books are different from fiction. Often their chapters are divided by topic and concept and not by chronological events like a history textbook.

For example, one of my favorite academic books about legislative policy and how policy is passed in the US, by John Kingdon, discusses multiple concepts. These concepts build off one another, but ultimately if you want to know about one specific concept, you can skip to that chapter. This is common in sociological academic books as well.

Going off of my Norse Mythology example in the last section, a book detailing the Norse deities and the stories connected to them will include chapters on each member of the major pantheon. But if I only care about Odin, I can focus on just the chapters about Odin.

Academic Articles and How To Read Them

I know you all know how to read. But learning how to read academic articles and books is a skill unto itself. It's one I didn't quite fully grasp until grad school. Learn to skim. When looking at articles published in journals that include original research, they tend to follow a set structure, and the order in which you read them is not obvious. At all.

Start with the abstract. This is a summary of the paper that will include, in about half a page to a page, the research question, hypothesis, methods/analysis, and conclusions. This abstract will help you determine if the answer to your question is even in this article. Are they asking the right question?

Next, read the research question and hypothesis. The hypothesis will include details about the theory and why the researcher thinks what they think. The literature review will go into much more depth about theories, what other people have done and said, and how that ties into the research of the present article. You don't need to read that just yet.

Skim the methods and analysis section. Look at every data table and graph included and try to find patterns yourself. You don't need to read every word of this section, especially if you don't understand a lot of the words and jargon used. Some key points to consider are: qualitative vs. quantitative data, sample size, confounding factors, and results.

(Some definitions for those of you who are unfamiliar with these terms. Qualitative data is data that cannot be quantified into a number. These are usually stories and anecdotes. Quantitative data is data that can be transferred into a numerical representation. You can't graph qualitative data (directly), but you can graph quantitative data. Sample size is the number of people or things counted (n when used in academic articles). Your sample size can indicate how generalizable your conclusions are. So pay attention. Did the author interview 300 subjects? Or 30? There will be a difference. A confounding factor is a factor that may affect the working theory. An example of a theory would be "increasing LGBTQ resources in a neighborhood would decrease LGBTQ hate crimes in that area." A confounding factor would be "increased reporting of hate crimes in the area." The theory, including the confounding factor, would look like "increasing LGBTQ resources in a neighborhood would increase the reporting of hate crimes in the area, which increases the number of hate crimes measured in that area." The confounding factor changes the outcome because it is a factor not considered in the original theory. When looking at research, see if you can think of anything that may change the theory based on how that factor interacts with the broader concept. Finally, the results are different from the conclusions. The results tell you what the methods spit out. Analysis tells you what the results say, and conclusions tell you what generalizations can be made based on the analysis.)

Next, read the conclusion section. This section will tell you what general conclusions can be made from the information found in the paper. This will tell you what the author found in their research.

Finally, once you've done all that, go back to the literature review section. You don't have to read it necessarily, but reading it will give you an idea of what is in each sourced paper. Take note of the authors and papers sourced in the literature review and repeat the process on those papers. You will get a wide variety of expert opinions on whatever concept or niche you're researching.

Starting to notice a pattern?

My research methods may not necessarily work for everybody, but they are pretty standard practice. You may notice that throughout this guide, I've told you to "source-hop" or follow the sources cited in whatever source you find first. This is incredibly important. You need to know who people are citing when they make claims.

This guide focused on secondary sources for most of the guide. Primary sources are slightly different. Primary sources require understanding the person who created the source, who they were, and their motivations. You also may need to do a little digging into what certain words or phrases meant at the time it was written based on what you are researching. The Prose Edda, for example, is a telling of the Norse mythology stories written by an Icelandic historian in the 13th century. If you do not speak the language spoken in Iceland in 1232, you probably won't be able to read anything close to the original document. In fact, the document was lost for about 300 years. Now there are translations, and those translations are as close to the primary source you can get on Norse Mythology. But even then, you are reading through several veils of translation. Take these things into account when analyzing primary documents.

Research Takes Practice

You won't get everything you need to know immediately. And researching subjects you have no background knowledge of can be daunting, confusing, and frustrating. It takes practice. I learned how to research through higher formal education. But you don't need a degree to write, so why should you need a degree to collect information? I genuinely hope this guide helps others peel away some of the confusion and frustration so they can collect knowledge as voraciously as I do.

– Indy

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thatanimeramenchick · 2 months

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Yandere Vox x Secretary Reader Part One

No one asked for this, but whatever. Bite me. I’ll get to the asks, I swear

3,516 words

Part Two - Part Three

–-

The last thing you wanted was to draw attention to yourself. In a place like hell, where the worst of society sunk together and only somehow seemed to get worse, it was a good idea to not catch other people’s eyes. If their eyes were on you, it was almost never for a good reason.

So when you decided to start working, it made sense you would do something quiet and in the background like data filing for a large media company. While there were many more unsavory jobs that paid more, you wanted to avoid the obvious and dangerous crime life of hell as much as possible in your daily life. You had had enough of being unwillingly tied up in that kind of stuff when you were alive. You might as well spend your eternity in some type of peace, or at least as much as someone in hell can get.

So, you made sure you were presentable as you walked into Voxtekk on your first day to work, dressed simple business attire and keeping a quiet demeanor.

“There you are!” said who you presumed was your new boss, a short man with glasses and a blue hair dye, “Was wondering if you were going to show up!”

“Sorry,” you said, “The traffic was bad.”

“Well, you better get used to leaving early,” he said, “Traffic is always a bitch in this part of Pentagram City.”

He continued to speak as he led you to the elevator.

“So, I’ve been told you have a lot of experience with this sort of thing on earth,” he said.

“Yes, I did library work while I was alive,” you said.

And some smuggling. Especially with weapons.

You didn’t think it would be necessary to tell him that though. The job had come in handy though by giving you a knack for remembering where things were.

“Good, good,” he said, “I expect you’ll be able to figure out how to do this on your own then.”

He led you to a room that was filled with file drawers as well as a large computer off to the side.

“There’s thousands, if not millions, of files in here, both physically and digitally. It’ll be your responsibility to make sure that everything new brought in gets put in its proper place, as well as that anything that is requested can be easily found,” he said, “As the biggest media company in hell, it’s important that we know at all times where every piece of information or media can be located.”

It was overwhelming, like the world’s largest and most complicated library. It made your head spin a little looking at it all, but you always liked a challenge.

“You think you can handle it?” he asked.

You nod with some confidence, though you don’t quite feel it. This was going to take some getting used to.

“I hope for both our sakes you’re right,” he said, “Last filer I hired couldn’t tell left from right and Vox fried me to a crisp. Took me a good week before I was able to regenerate properly.”

Crap, that sounded bad. Note to self, don’t let that happen to you.

“I think I’ll be all right,” you said.

---

It was a bit overwhelming the first few weeks. You were competent enough to keep things in order though. Your experience was paying off, and you weren’t hearing any complaints or news about any assistants getting fried, so you supposed you were doing your job well enough.

Within two months of starting your job, you finally met the rumored big man himself. He had come in one day, visibly in a bad mood as he walked over to your desk, a man trailing behind him.

“I don’t know why I even pay you morons,” he said, “I have to hear important information secondhand from fucking Valentino because you can’t be bothered to keep up with what’s happening in hell.”

“Look, sir, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to not tell you,” he said, “I just didn’t think you’d care.”

Vox had stormed over to your desk.

“So you KNEW and thought it would be a good idea to just not tell me at all?” he said.

“T-that’s not it! I just-”

Vox held up a hand to interrupt him before turning to you.

“I want the file we have in here on Alastor,” he said, a static buzz of irritation on the last word, “Now.”

“Of course, sir,” you said.

You hurried over to the file cabinet and quickly located it.

“See, not everyone around here is as useless as you are,” Vox said to his other employee.

You saw the hapless employee mutter something under his breath out of the corner of your eye, and before you knew it a chain had appeared and Vox yanked him closer.

“What was that?” he said

“N-nothing, sir!” said the now visibly sweating employee.

A shock went through the poor guy before Vox released him.

“Useless,” he said, “You know what? I think you need some time learning exactly who is in charge around here.”

Vox pointed a clawed finger at you.

“You,” he said, “It’s your lucky day, kid. You wanna promotion?”

“Um… yes?” you said.

“Great. Samuel, have fun in janitorial work for the next decade,” he said, “You’re being replaced. What’s your name?”

“F/N,” you said.

“Hope you have customer service experience as well as filing,” he said, “You’re moving up to my office. Need someone with a functioning brain to run the front desk. Pack up!”

You hesitated for a minute before grabbing the stuff under your desk. You figured the last thing you wanted to do was piss this guy off more than he already looked.

---

Despite him being in such a bad mood that first day, you soon found that most of the time Vox was relatively calm, at least compared to what you heard about the other employers in this building. While he at times could get pretty irritated with things, especially if a certain never-to-be-named demon was brought up by an idiot intern, he rarely took it out on you. He usually took the daily bothers of running the company in stride.

Besides that, running a front desk of an office wasn’t too different than running the front desk at the library. You didn’t have to do near as much organizing in terms of files, but you still did spend a lot of time making sure that everything in Vox’s life was organized from his meetings to when he had lunch.

He didn’t talk much with you outside of work related stuff, which is why you were so surprised when you found out what he was doing one day.

It was a nice enough morning, at least as much as a nice morning can be in hell. You took a sip of your coffee briefly as you stretched and looked out your office window. While you missed the blue sky of earth, the red sky of hell had its own sort of charm you supposed. You glanced down, looking at the people walking back and forth, small as ants. Running around willy nilly. Someone was moving into the building that afternoon, a common occurrence here, as you had heard talk that Valentino liked to keep his employees in close quarters. Seems like they had a similar taste in furniture to your own. Almost frighteningly so.

Except… wait. Was that your sofa? And your dresser? Your bookshelves? You lowered your coffee to the windowsill as you squinted down at your entire catalog of furniture being moved into the building. Something wasn’t right.

You knocked on your boss’s door and entered in a bit of a rush as you heard him say to come in.

“Vox, what on earth is going on?” you asked, trying not to sound panicked.

“F/N, that could be ten different things. I need you to be more specific,” he asked, his tone nonchalant as he didn’t even look up from his phone.

“I just saw what I’m pretty sure was all my belongings being moved into the building,” you said.

“Oh yes, that. Well, I had wanted to surprise you, but I guess it’s too late for that,” he said, somewhat absently, “I hate that you have to take such a long commute to the other side of town. And I know all the apartments there are so run down, I figured I’d just move you into the studio like a lot of our other valued staff.”

What? While it was true your apartment was kind of rinky dinky, it was yours. And you liked the privacy and soft solitude it offered after work. Besides, you didn’t like the idea of your boss just moving you willy nilly without your permission. Still, you didn’t want to show him you were upset.

“Vox, you don’t have to do this,” you said, “I’m ok with where I’m at. I don’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble at all. Think of it as a courtesy as my secretary,” he said.

You could feel your entire face tighten as you got more frustrated. Some of it was probably starting to show, despite your best efforts.

“I never asked for this though,” you said, trying to tread carefully, “and I like my old apartment. I… I don’t really want this...”

“But you do want this,” he said, finally looking up at you, “You want to be in a nicer apartment, closer to work, safer, don’t you? You always want to be here.”

That… You supposed that was true. Something about his tone soothed you, sent a pleasant lull through your skull and made your body relax as he looked in your eyes. Your protests now seemed a bit foolish and childish. In all honesty, you supposed it just made sense that you move in to the studio. Everything you needed was here, truly, why would you want to live away from here? You did want a nicer apartment without the stressful commute.

“O-ok,” you said, a small uncomfortable feeling of doubt still in your stomach, “Yeah. That’s true. I do want to be here more… closer to the office...”

He smiled at that and walked over to you. He placed an arm around you, guiding you back to your own office.

“Of course you do! And besides I already had them move everything here, so why don’t you just go back to work, and they’ll have finished moving everything in by the time your shift is done,” Vox said, “I guarantee once you’ve had time to think it through you’ll be glad we did it.”

“If you say so,” you said.

As he walked you back to your desk, he continued his calming chatter.

“That’s a good girl. You and I both have a lot of work today, anyway, so I think we can agree that you should just focus on that for now,” he said as he nudged over to your desk.

You sat down and turned to the planner on your desk as you heard your boss walk into his personal office and closed the door. You just stare blankly for a good minute, feeling a little light, like you were on Zoloft before shaking your head back and forth. Might as well just go back to work. You could think more about this later.

---

It had been happening so slowly. One day, week, month at a time, Vox was implementing himself into your life inch by inch, despite the fact that the two of you weren’t bound on paper. He had moved you into the building, where you knew that you were almost constantly on camera. He kept you so loaded down with work you barely had a social life anymore, with no time to hang out with friends or date. The pay was ok, you supposed, but it felt minuscule compared to the amount of work he was expecting you to do on a daily basis.

And then there was the… weirder things that had been happening. Whenever you tried to talk to him, he had a way of getting you to forget about whatever it was you were upset about, at least for a little while. But it would always come back eventually, and as you thought about it more, it irritating you that he was dismissing your concerns.

You hadn’t really noticed it until he had gone on vacation for a week with the other Vees. You had been quite busy with work, but without him there to calm you down whenever your “concerns” came up, you realized that maybe you had let your priorities get a little askew. You needed a career change.

So, perhaps against your better judgment, a few days after he had returned, you had left a two weeks notice on his desk before he came in. It only took about fifteen minutes after he came in for him to summon you to his office.

“F/N? What is this?” he asked, holding out the letter.

“It’s my resignation,” you said, trying to sound steady and confident.

“I’m sorry… your what?” he said

“I-I regret to inform you that I will be moving out and relocating to the Doomsday Sector in two weeks,” you said, “I appreciate all that you’ve done here for me as I worked here, but I am making a career change.”

He looked baffled for a second, like he couldn’t believe what you were saying before chuckling a little.

“No, you’re not,” he said, “You don’t want to leave he-”

“Stop!” you yelled out with more force than you intended.

As soon as he had started speaking that familiar fuzzy feeling had entered your mind, and you had closed your eyes, shaking your head. You didn’t want him talking you out of this.

“I-I’m sorry,” you said, as you reopened your eyes, but didn’t really look at him, “But I don’t want to talk about this.”

It was awkwardly silent for a minute.

“Is it a pay thing?” he finally asked, “Because that can be adjusted. You do good work. I certainly wouldn’t mind paying you more.”

“It’s not a pay thing,” you said, “It’s not anything. I-I don’t want to talk about this, so I’m going to go-”

“You’re not leaving!” he said, slamming his fist on his desk.

You jumped, a little surprised at his reaction. While you knew he wouldn’t be thrilled, you hadn’t expected him to be so volatile. He was always so calm and collected that this kind of reaction to something so minuscule confused you.

“Vox, I know you like my work, but I think you’re overreacting a little bit,” you said.

“Overreacting?” he said, looking pissed, “Overreacting?!”

He grasped at the air, a look of surprise entering his face when no chain appeared. You look at him bewildered. Had he really just tried to…?

“Vox, we don’t have a contract?” you said, “Did you forget that?”

Had he really gotten so comfy with you that he thought that you were another one of his little pets? To hell with the two week notice, you were going today.

“I think I should go back to work,” you said.

He didn’t say anything as you went back to your desk. You finished filing information extra fast that day, doing a bit of a sloppy job. As soon as it was noon, you left for what appeared to be a lunch break, but you had decided was actually going to be your escape.

This situation was getting uncomfortable. You hurried to your room and haphazardly threw clothes and necessities into your suitcase. Anything you left behind on accident you would just have to replace. On a final note, you shoved your wallet into your back pocket and walked over to the door.

Except it didn’t open. The nob didn’t even turn when you yanked on it. You tried it a few times, to no avail.

“Dammit,” you murmured under your breath, and you pounded your fist on the door.

You were about ready to start kicking it when you heard a burst of static behind you. You turned to see your boss coming in through the camera system. While it had always been an eerie feature to your arrangements, it was a million more times so to see Vox using it to his full advantage.

“What the hell is going on?” you asked.

“I should be the one asking that,” he said, “Just where do you think you’re going?”

“None of your damn business!” you said, “I don’t know what security you have on this door, but you better take it off now or-”

“Or?” he asked.

Now it was your turn to look tense as he gave you a self-satisfied smirk. You could feel your face flushing in a quiet rage as he spoke. Though you were hiding them behind your back, you could feel your fists clenching, as well as the shape of you mouth hardening.

“Vox, you are being ridiculous! We don’t even have a contract! I’m not bound to you, so you can’t keep me here,” you said.

He cocked his head at you, raising an eyebrow, “Oh really now?”

Something about the nonchalance in his tone only pissed you off more.

“Yes, really!” you yelled, “I’m not staying here. I’m leaving whether you want me to or not.”

“And just how do you expect to do that?” asked Vox, “Jump out the window? I mean you could splatter yourself on the ground, but it’d be a bit rude considering I’ll have to send some unlucky interns to scrape you off the pavement and put you back in your room until you regenerate.”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in and clenching and unclenching your hands with an unnecessary amount of force. You tried to calm your voice down.

“Vox, I understand that you like the work I do for you, but you’re being ridiculous,” you said.

“You think this about work?” he said, “F/N, don’t act stupid. I can get a new secretary anytime I want, ten secretaries. You and I both know that’s not what this is about.”

You looked at him confused. It wasn’t?

“For someone who is so smart with data, you are being so unbelievably slow right now.”

He advanced on you, causing you to shrink against the frame of the door as he leaned over you. He pushed you against the wall and gripped your chin in his hand, forcing you to look him in the eye. It all happened in a flash, too fast to register, and before you could realize it, he was pulling you into a rough kiss.

It wasn’t what you had expected, though it wasn’t as if you had thought a lot about what kissing your boss would feel like. On the rare occasions when you had wondered about it, you had assumed kissing Vox would be like kissing the screen of a laptop. Apparently though, he had a literal working mouth as you could clearly tell from the sensation of his tongue and even teeth connecting with your own. Your chin ached in his firm grip, which could have been more tender if it didn’t feel like he was keeping you from turning your face away. You tried to do so, but he didn’t even seem to notice it, he was so preoccupied.

He held you like this for a good two or three minutes, his saliva coating your mouth. Though it was barely there, you could feel a slight buzz to it, as if some of his electricity was in his fluids. He finally released you though, some of his spit getting on your lips as he removed himself. A sigh filled the air as your lips parted.

“Even better than I thought it would be,” he murmured

He shifted a bit and was leaning in for another kiss when you kicked him in the shins.

“Ow!” he said, releasing you and giving you time to dart away.

You had moved in a burst to the other side of the room, glaring at him with what you hoped was resentment. There was also something else though. A feeling of deep rooted anxiety and fear was stirring in full force, despite the fact that over the past few months you had been pushing it down as much as possible. You hoped he couldn’t see the weakness in you.

Whether he did or not though, you could tell he was visibly pissed for a minute. He finally got his features under control, but as he spoke his tone held all of the avarice that had left his face.

“Whatever,” he said, “Contract or not, you’re still mine, and you’re not going anywhere until you accept that. Throw a tantrum if you want to, but you’re stuck here.”

You watched as he went back into the camera system as easily as he had come. You curled up on the floor, burying your face in your arms.

#yandere x reader #hazbin hotel #vox #yandere vox #vox x reader

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