#it was gonna be twice as long but I do not have that kind of patience

[lawless-walrus]

NUCLEAR YAP

spoilers for S3E12 of midst

Weepe and Saskia’s relationship has occupied my damn brain space since inside, and their reunion has been my most anticipated event to happen in ANY media since we learned in breakfast that Saskia was going to the light with Harry. One little pet peeve I’ve had with not writing this sooner is seeing people be very reductive with what’s gonna happen, or even their relationship. Which is easy to fall into, considering weepe doesn’t seem to be anything other than an opalescent, weird, evil bastard when you shine a light on him. But just like his body, there are very dark things hiding within his character. And a big part of season 3 has been seeing those dark things finally begin to show. So let’s get inside these 2 characters heads fully and completely, to understand their relationship with eachother.

Both Saskia and weepe are mysterious characters at first, on the second episode the only thing we are sure of either of them is that they run the black candle, are criminals, and are a bit quirky. Concord is even initially taken aback by the funky dynamic they had. Let’s start with Saskia, who, for all that she has to hide, is much more clear to us as a character than Mr. Moc Weepe. She was the owner of the black candle cabaret, which weepe says in was kind of crappy when he first saw it, before he stepped in to help make it the very successful business it is. And she’s also a valorous trustee, which means she immigrated to midst from the Un before weepe did. She’s been in midst for a very long time. Infact, she was one of the first settlers of stationary hill back in 598. Judging that she’s in her early 40’s according to Sara in the tumblr AMA, Saskia would be at most 18 when she arrived at stationary hill, meaning that she has been a part of Stationary hill and midst for both the entirety of its life, and for the entirety of her adult life. She would die for this place. Twice. She’s been shown time and time again to be an idealist and someone who deeply cares about each and every member of this community. And that extends to Mr. Moc Weepe. To quote her in Coda “See, I told you! I promised I was gonna work on him.”. What this line implies is that upon arriving on stationary hill, people were quick to assume/realize that Moc Weepe is kind of a freak. He’s not someone anyone would like working at their place of business based on first impressions. But Saskia is an idealist, and partnered with weepe anyway. And he seems to have been a very good bet, as he has transformed the black candle cabaret into an enviable establishment across the cosmos. Weepe was an exceptional justification of her idealism.

Was.

Saskia was disappointed when Weepe betrayed her. Not shocked. Disappointed. She was so upset that the man she helped get better, the person who helped her in-turn turn the black candle cabaret into something special, someone who, like Saskia, had gotten involved in the community enough these last 6-7 years to earn the nickname the mayor of stationary hill, would fuck her and everything else over. She thought, hoped, he had changed. And Moc Weepe seems to believe in interest that he’s incapable of that. That he is a man who cannot do good. But moving beyond business partners for a second. In the quote I’m pulling from coda early on in the last paragraph, just before weepe mentions that Saskia really had to pull his leg to come on stage and sing with her. Which begs the question, why does she want to sing with him? An answer so easy it’s almost a no brainer to bring up. Saskia wanted to sing with weepe because she likes singing with weepe, because she cares about weepe. And weepe tore out her heart not just by betraying everyone, to the trust, but by proving Saskia wrong. That being patient with him, that loving him (whatever form that love may be), was an unwise decision. In episode 16 of season 2, she through away the nutcracker for 2 reasons. 1 to not give Meryl any hints that it was weepe or someone involved in the cabaret who killed Atticus (which she instantly realizes and suspects when she learns he is dead), and to remove any trace of weepe from her life. Helping that man may still be in the cards, Saskia isn’t a spiteful person. She could’ve killed weepe in the tearorr if she wanted to. She is still an idealist. But being close with him again. Him becoming a part of her life again. That is something she does not want. Unfortunately for her however. She is now in a city ruled by him, a fact that she brings up twice in episode 3x10. And yet she stays behind to help lark and Phineas. Even though she is determined to keep weepe out of her life. She will not run.

Moc Weepe was someone else once. Maybe we’ll never know who exactly that was. But we do know that he was the Baron of Fold Shallows before Kozma. He too would’ve been young when midst was founded. Quite young when he was put in a mica maiden and dropped into the fold abyss. A boy you could say. And ever since then, he has stated that the only thing keeping him together was the thought of seeing Kozma Lazlo again and turning her into a nice damp puddle. In interest, he states that midst was supposed to be a quick pit stop. But he ended up staying there instead. For up to 7 years. She made him stay. Weepe is an incredibly cynical person. Weepe has rarely a nice thing to say about any character he interacts with in the entire series. He has never, not even once, been interested in one of Imelda’s speeches about doing the right thing. And he has a very nihilistic attitude about doing what he has to to survive. But while he certainly took a radical business minded, capitalist, hustle grind mindset while running the black candle cabaret, he seemed to start doing more than just surviving. He accidentally made a home there. He stayed in one place for too long, and put down roots without meaning too (sound familiar Lark) He usually doesn’t give a shit about consequences, but he cared then. He cared about Saskia’s opinion of him. Because she believed in him. In the Arca chamber, in what he perceived to be potentially his final moments, he called out to her, as if in his deluded state, Saskia would be the one to save him from the other side. And in some ways she did. She gave him a place to stay, a business partnership, an opportunity to do good. And he was doing it.

Despite what weepe says about that he would’ve fucked the black candle over later if he didn’t do it now, he didn’t fuck the black candle cabaret over for 4 years. In fact, when it was raided, it was in the best state it had ever been in. And when he ran out of the cabaret with only his medical case, he almost cried because he was leaving her and this wonderful place behind for good.

Weepe is now tripotentiary, and has killed Kozma Lazlo. He is the richest person in the entire cosmos. And yet Saskia Del Norma still keeps coming up, even though she is not there. In his mind and everyone else around him, she is gone forever. He left her, and she will never come back. We’ve talked before how cult psychology works best without other relationships outside the cult. Weepe only became forced to be a trustee because the islet of midst, the black candle cabaret, and Saskia del Norma, are all gone forever to him. He has no one but Imelda (who is a whole can of worms I’ll get into some other day). And like Saskia, we get to contrasting reactions from weepe about the other. When weepe is dying in the Arca chamber, he reaches out to Saskia. When he’s at his lowest, when all is lost, he turns to the one person who believed in and cared about him. But when he’s reminded of her or the ruin of midst, like in episode 5 and 12 of season 3, he gets anxious, and steers the conversation elsewhere, rather aggressively in interest. He physically reacts to both times it’s brought up. In his new life as leader of the trust, as that old him who ruled over a vast number of islets with an ironfist, that opportunity he once had to be a good person in his and others eyes makes him very uncomfortable. He doesn’t want that reminder of when his cynicism weakened, the reminder that he gave up on being good, to come with him into his life as Baron again. But, in inside he still called to Saskia in that chamber. And he doesn’t know she’s alive. He doesn’t know that the person who once cared for him is in the light right now. And if he meets her, if he sees that she is there and real, he will not run.

(I’m still working on my essay for Imelda, I’ve been working on it for 2 weeks.)

#midst #midst podcast #moc weepe #saskia del norma #Most sane Moc Weepe fan #midst spoilers

[meitantei-shitpost]

Finally finished with this little detective conan animation!!!

The song is Under the Wool by KMODO

When your boyfriend mysteriously disappears and this creepily smart kid who looks like him shows up along with all these other shady characters who are obviously hiding some bigger conspiracy. I imagine that not knowing everything that’s going on and being left to put together clues would be pretty terrifying. It feels unfair that like literally most of the people Ran knows know about the organization while she’s left in the dark about the truth. Enjoy some Ran angst! 🥲

#dcmk #detective conan #my stuff #my art #mouri ran #shinichi kudo #conan edogawa #animation #the lyrics of the song and the phone noises just fit ran so well #it was gonna be twice as long but I do not have that kind of patience #there’s a lyric that goes ‘every day’s a new delight under the wool over the eyes’ and goddamn if that isn’t Ran living oblivious to all of

[sunshinediaz]

snippet sunday 🫧

hi, pals <3 i think. i think i'm about to come down with the worst sinus infection of my life so if i'm extra mia just know it's because i'm fighting demons

please enjoy a new bad things happen fic, where eddie and buck are forced to watch their house burn down??

The smell of smoke wakes him up, sharp and hot and smothering. It swirls in the air, mixing with mint and vanilla and eucalyptus, his cologne and their shampoo and that expensive detergent Buck likes so much, and Eddie has half a mind bitch at Buck for not showering before climbing into bed before he realizes their last shift was two days ago.  Hysteria rockets through his system, cold like polar ice. He rolls around beneath the sheets, frantic and nervous, and slaps Buck’s shoulder till he wakes up.  Buck groans, lifts his head out from beneath his pillow, and slurs, “Wha’s goin’ on?” because it’s 3:17 in the morning and it’s still three hours before their alarm rings to get Chris ready for school and there’s no reason for them to be up yet.  “Fire,” he says, sliding off the bed and shuffling on the icy tiles in his bare feet. It startles him, wakes him up even more than the fire.  Buck makes another noise, bewildered and a little slow. “Huh?”  “The house is on fire, Buck!”  It’s quiet for a moment, nothing at all except a telltale crackling of burning wood, and then Buck’s falling out of bed, slamming his head against the bedside table and slipping in the pool of sheets in the floor. He blinks, adjusting to the darkness of their bedroom; the smell of smoke has only gotten stronger, fluttering around them like fog rising from a secluded pond, and the look on his face when he realizes what’s going on reminds Eddie of when he was shot years ago. 

i was tagged by @try-set-me-on-fire, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @hippolotamus, @watchyourbuck, @honestlydarkprincess, @exhuastedpigeon, @wikiangela, @daffi-990, and @giddyupbuck

and i'm gonna no pressure tag @callmenewbie, @eddiediaztho, @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy, @callaplums, @folk-fae and whoever else wants to share pls consider yourself tagged 🫶🏼

ps i'll be back later to gush over everyone's snippets and inspirations from yesterday okay i just have to rest a lil bit first please <3

#sigh #the kind of headache i have... my eyes hurt my nose hurt my temples hurt my body aches #i get sinus infections twice a year and this is the second time and fuuck it's gonna put me in a grave #anyway #this fic is gonna be for the forced to watch slot on my bingo card teehee #am i gonna keep it like this? idk i really don't like it but i DO like instant gratification so here i am #it's not gonna be as long as heart attack fic THANK GOD and oh boy the way eddie's gonna be so sad #anyway i'm excited for this fic mwah MWAH #tag games

[whump-in-the-closet]

haha i just finished writing the main storyline for The Scarred among the Mundane i feel like screaming into the void aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

#i’m so happy rn #incredibly relieved #now i just have to post it. probably gonna do that like twice a week or something #but i’m just so glad it’s done it’s been so long so i’ve finished any story of any kind #and sure it’s not that great #the plot is weak #the characters could be developed more #the writing can be lazy #it’s really not that long or something to be proud of #but fuck it all i am proud #troy talks #just ignore my ramblings

[kingdom-falls]

Okay not to be dramatic but I think I'm fucked

#Long story short we have a situation at work that we don't have any guidelines for #So I sent it to our technical team for two separate customers to look into it #Only for our team meeting to conclude that we do NOT do that and have the customers wait and see if it resolves itself BEFORE we send it #So that means I just fucked myself over twice and I'm sure I'm gonna get put on a watch of some kind #Like not government watch just a 'making sure you don't Fuck Up again' watch #But like I didn't know what to do? Maybe I shouldn't jumped the gun so much but asking people to wait isn't gonna fix shit! #I'll probably fight it because we again DO NOT have guidelines for this rn and I just went with what seemed logical #But I know I'm still gonna get hit with something for this #And I'm pretty much the only one making money rn. We're pulling from my savings at times which I'm not a fan of but do what you gotta do #And we so cannot afford for me to lose my job #I'm really just hoping shit works out #ramblings about nothing/everything

[theshadowrealmitself]

Fanfiction: Don’t worry, everyone! Using this one part from canon, we made it so the character with the short/normal life span can now live as long as their romantic partner with the super long life span! Now they don’t have to worry about one dying way before the other, isn’t that great?

Me, hyper aware that the first character gave up dying around the same time as all their other friends with normal life spans, and as happy as they are with their love, they had made the conscious choice to live with that regret and probably spend those extra years they gained missing them:

#it’s like a different kind of angst then the angst where the person with the long life didn’t get to choose their life span #they never had a choice to live only as long their friends do #it. it hurts #does anyone else worry about this when reading those fics? #no fandom #*than #dang it #I hate that I can’t just edit the tag I’d have to retype it #actually sometimes it’s not a conscious choice!! #sometimes stuff just happens and it’s like ‘oh you’re gonna live twice as long now’ #they just have to live with that!!!

[mrburnsnuclearpussy]

Dude I can’t even.

#like so much goes on in here it’s been wild I’m not gonna explain and can’t anyway but I’m like #exhausted with this stuff #just had to stand up between a 17 year old to defend her from a huge grown ass man who was threatening her like I was fucking shaking and th #the staff were just trying to make me stop but who tf was going to get between them then? because an adult has to step in even if I am a pat #a patient too I’m still and adult and there’s a responsibility there #i swear that’s just the tiniest tip of the iceberg of my life rn but that’s a different stores #anyway I had leave today and have leave for a long time tomorrow and should be nice #and I’m just being myself and trying to help and be kind to people yet I just end up with a guy over twice my age kissing me and then giving #me a letter to clarify that it was platonic but very sweet abt we should being friends for a long time #and feels like he known me for ever even though we met a week ago #and everyone here is mentally I’ll too so no relationships are gonna be super healthy and it puts a lot of pressure now because I feel like #we’ve suddenly got super deep and close very quick and that wasn’t my intention #i was just being comforting and nice like you do #i just #there’s so much more #bdhhsjsjjs #anyway I snuck my phone in my room after leave so now I’m here tying this and by myself trying to process the past week and a half #life update #random idk wat to tag this as #vent #i suppose

[pomefioredove]

now I'm actually invested in this idea. maybe I'll write a full length fic someday idk... for now I have short hcs

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | bad ending

summary: crowley decides to "give away" yuu to the highest "donation" for financial reasons type of post: headcanons characters: all nrc students additional info: can be read as platonic or romantic, except malleus is pretty romantic, second person pov, yuu is gender neutral, maybe a little ooc I wrote this as soon as I got up

crowley has had his fair share of "what the fuck" moments from you but this was really taking the cake

he acts so... casual about it?

swaggers into ramshackle one morning and says times are tough and your personal expenses are straining the budget so he's decided to "put you in someone else's care"

"The screening process will be vigorous to make sure you end up in good hands!" like you're a cat or something "Your expenses will be covered and you'll have somewhere to go during break!"

okay great. pretty obvious you have no say in this, so you don't even argue. what's the worst that could happen?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ace, Deuce, Jack, and Epel find you the next day to say they're pooling their money to buy you

"To what?"

Epel shrugs. "Oh, well Crowley said we need to offer a donation to prove we're capable of supporting you..."

(you think that if not for the laws of this land you would have slaughtered that old fart)

Jack goes on a really long tirade about how shady and underhanded this is, making sure to reaffirm that he believes you should be free to make your own choices

"So you'll let me go once you get me?"

"Uhhh..."

Ace thinks once they buy you you'll have no choice but to do all of his homework for him

Deuce says that's not really how it works- and even if he tried, Riddle would kill him

(they've already gone over this twice before finding you)

Epel happily volunteers to take you home with him over breaks, probably the only positive in this mess

even if he thinks the whole thing is kind of funny

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

incapable of keeping his mouth shut, Ace accidentally spills the plan to Riddle, who is understandably aghast

you can't just give away a person under your care like a toy!

of all the irresponsible things...

of course, he'll have to put up his offer, too

purely for your sake! with a nicer room and a brand new copy of the dorm rules, maybe you'll stop getting yourself into trouble

he's got some family money (doctors, naturally) and considers this a worthwhile purchase, for his sanity and yours

of course, Trey and Cater overhear and may or may not be pooling their own cash for a chance, too

going behind Riddle's back on this is a risky venture, but hey, someone's gotta be on your side, here, right?

I mean, between a bunch of sixteen year old boys, the housewarden, and them, who would you choose?

actually don't answer that

...not that it's much of a secret, anyway. Cater's already got their gofundme equivalent link in bio

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona initially plans to have you become a live-in lackey like Ruggie

but then he really starts thinking- and, hey, the possibilities are endless, right?

for one, you'd make a really good pillow

he might have to kick Grim out for your full attention, but you could learn to live with that

and malleus would hate it

...that's reason enough for him

plus, he's got money to burn, so why not?

either way, he sets his bid at a reasonable (maybe too confident) price and sits back to watch the chaos unfold as everyone scrambles for a piece of the pie

news travels fast around school, after all

then Ruggie finds out that you could dethrone him as Leona's #2 and is understandably a little annoyed

that's his cushy post-grad job gig, thank you! he's worked hard for that!

besides, why should Leona get to hoard you? the guy can barely take care of himself!

so, Ruggie ends up outsourcing to a few dozen classmates for the necessary funds at a steep I-owe-you price

he's gonna be eating nothing but dandelions for a while...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

now, Azul is annoyed

once the news goes school-wide, it's all anyone can talk about

talk about good marketing...

why didn't he think of such a brilliant scam? he could have negotiated with Crowley to have a café brand deal tie-in!

of course, he's already set his bid, with Jade and Floyd offering to pitch in as necessary

it's a risky investment, sure, but a worthwhile one

Azul tells everyone that with the prefect's "obvious" popularity, having them at the café a few nights a week would drive sales through the roof

though that's really just what he says to shirk suspicion

a likely excuse coming from him, though, really, it would just be nice having you around

and if not for his own affections, Floyd's incessant begging and Jade's subtly manipulative comments about "how nice" it would be having a new face around would be enough for him to cave eventually

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"Kalim, no," is the first thing that Jamil says

"I strongly advise against this. It's another one of Crowley's silly scams and you could end up a target bec- are you even listening?"

hint: he is not

the second Kalim found out that he could get to take in his favorite magicless student like one of his treasures, he was all over it

(AKA infinite sleepovers)

and for what? a little optional donation to prove he's got the funds? he's got cash to spare!

he's already got your new room in Scarabia set up before he even puts his bid in

right next to his of course :)

and despite what Jamil insists, he himself might be working behind the curtain just a little to ensure he's the one who ends up with you

after all, why should Kalim get everything? this might be a valuable learning opportunity for him

You don't always get what you want

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

as much as Epel tries to keep the rest of his dorm from finding out, it's inevitable

he's actually a little surprised that the news didn't get to Vil sooner

with Rook around campus, surely he must have said something...

when Vil does find out, though, he just sighs

oh, of course. what next, will everyone meet each other in the arena and fight to the death over the prefect?

of all the silly, immature things...

oh? what's that? he's bidding anyway? of course he is, silly potato. he can't have some unwashed miscreant making you sleep on polyester bedding

(really, he's the only person on campus worthy of your time)

Rook has also been mysteriously absent from the dorm lately, though his initials on a poem and a strangely large sum of money end up in the donation pile

but really, that could be anyone... Rook would never dare betray Vil again, right?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ortho finds out directly from the other first years and sends Idia the details immediately

with a little note of encouragement, of course: "could be excellent for improving your social skills!"

Idia understandably freaks out

"WTF!!!! nooo way! this is a person, not a chatbot we're talking about here! I can barely keep virtual pets alive!!!!"

(liar)

(...but this is still different)

the conversation ends there, but semi-anonymous bid from someone named "gloomurai" gets cashapp'd directly to crowley

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

everyone in the room immediately turns to Malleus

"For the record, I think it's wrong to be bargaining over a human being," Silver says first. "But if anyone could handle it with grace, it's you."

Lilia laughs. "Oh, you're just saying that because you like the prefect so much!"

"Father, you're the one who likes the prefect so much,"

"Oh, right! carry on then. After all, I'm sure we could share,"

Sebek is the only one relatively against the idea, though Lilia luckily manages to get him to lower his voice after his third speech about how you aren't good enough for his liege

Malleus is rather quiet through the whole evening, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with any of the points made

he disappears for a short while, and when he comes back he seems a little more confident

though, of course, he goes to you first

seeing him at Ramshackle in the middle of the night is a familiar and welcoming sight after all of the chaos of your week

and he's in a great mood!

"Child of man! I've come with news," he says. "I have heard of your predicament and have come up with a solution!"

you immediately sulk. "Oh, no. You know I think this whole thing is terrible, right?"

"Yes, Silver mentioned you might not like the idea of being bought and sold like a trinket. But worry not, I do not plan on paying for you in money,"

you pause, at a loss for words, and then tentatively continue. "You're not...?"

"Of course not. What a primitive idea, I was baffled to hear it myself. My proposal will be more traditional: a modest sum of treasure, and a generous amount of livestock and the finest crop Briar Valley can offer,"

certainly he's not this naive, you think

"You really think Crowley is going to accept that over money? I'm pretty sure Kalim just bid away an entire country's worth,"

he laughs. "You speak as if this is some kind of business deal! I'm quite confident that my dowry will be best,"

huh. that was a strange way of putting it

but then again, you still didn't really understand how things work here, so you go along with it

and you allow yourself to relax. he seems confident in his offer, and he doesn't even see you as some kind of prize to win!

"Oh, well, alright. Thanks! I'm glad you're on it,"

he smiles. "Rest assured, child of man, you're in good hands. My dowry will far outshine the others, and the wedding will be even better,"

"I was honestly getting a little nervous for a momen- wait- wedding!?"

#twst x reader #shall I tag everyone even though this is pretty short... idk might as well #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #jack howl x reader #epel felmier x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #floyd leech x reader #jade leech x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #rook hunt x reader #idia shroud x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #malleus draconia x reader #idk if I should tag silver and sebek they're barely in it 😔 #that's enough tags anyway

[oppopotamus]

i have a toji brainrot rn.

dom!male!reader (younger than toji but still an adult) wanting to fck toji (dadbod toji yum) and toji doesn't believe that reader will be able to pleasure him.

toji gets wrecked (maybe some overstimulation and squirting as well teehee) and he gets smitten and addicted. 🤭

My next door neighbour is a hot dilf??

toji fushiguro x dom top male reader

srry this took so long I took a HUGEE break from writing

listened to Katy Perry while I wrote this which may or may not have affected my writing

Warning: NSFW, dilf toji, top reader, thigh spanking, toji passes out twice, toji cries, reader gets mean i guess??

Toji, your hot dilf neighbour, the guy who lives in the apartment next to yours, he's only across the hall.

You need this man, even if it's the last fucking thing you do.

You will not give up, you will persevere and fuck the living shit out of this total dilf.

You REFUSE to give up.

So that's why you were in front of his door, looking directly up at this dilf.

"Uh, hey!" You tried to sound confident but the sweat on your palms and your nervous smile gave it away that you were, in fact, not confident.

"Ya need sum'?" Toji's deep, rough voice sent shivers down your spine. His voice was so hot, you needed to hear him moan in that voice.

"Oh, uh, yeah..." 'Quick! Think of something!' You said in your mind.

"Uh, uh- Uhm... sugar!" 'Sugar? Fucking sugar? What kind of fucking response is sugar?!'

"Sugar." Toji repeated your word.

'Shit! He probably thinks I'm crazy!'

"You need to borrow some... sugar?" Toji raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest as he looked down at you.

"Uhm... yeah." You say, wiping the sweat on your palms onto your pants as you stand there very awkwardly in the front door.

"I think I have some left... come in." Toji says as he walks into his apartment, leaving the door open for you to follow.

You nod and laugh awkwardly, following in after him and into the kitchen.

You're literally shaking from nerves, you pinch yourself to steady yourself but instead you end up letting out an, "ow!"

Toji quickly turns around with a raised eyebrow, "you okay, kid?"

You shake yourself off and nod quickly, "yup! Just, uh, stubbed my toe!"

Toji raises an eyebrow at that, he doesn't know how you stubbed your toe considering you were standing in the middle of the kitchen, not next to anything.

He just turns around and grabs a mug to collect some sugar.

"And I'm not a kid, by the way... I'm in college, I'm an adult."

"Coulda' fooled me." Toji scoffs and grabs the bag of sugar before pouring some into a mug.

"I don't look like a kid! I'm, like, average height for someone my age! A kid isn't this tall!"

Toji just looks you up and down with a smirk and hands you the mug filled with sugar.

Your cheeks turn pink when Toji looks you up and down with that sexy smirk.

"Okay, so you may not be a kid, but you're definitely a virgin. You stutter and blush every time I look at ya."

You immediately stutter again, "I most certainly am not a virgin!"

"Please, you wouldn't even know how to please a guy like me." Toji scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"First of all, I'm not a virgin, second of all, I totally would know how to!"

"Really?" Toji takes a few steps towards you, his arms crossed over his chest, "Prove it then."

Prove it?! You say in your head.

"P-Prove it?" Your brain short-circuits at that, is this seriously happening?

"You heard me."

"Oh."

Not even a second later he's grabbing your hand and leading you to his bedroom, causing you to drop the mug of sugar onto the floor, but neither of you care about that right now.

"Prove it quickly, my son's gonna be home soon." Toji sits down on the edge of the bed, looking at you expectingly.

He has a son?! He really is a dilf!!

"A-Ah, alright then..."

You take a few hesitant steps towards Toji on the bed, you've never slept with a guy this hot before, you're usually so confident in bed but this guy makes you so nervous!

"U-Uhm, I'm gonna start now..." You say shakily as you reach a hand out and drag your index finger down from Toji's chin to collarbone, brushing over his Adam's apple which surprisingly makes him shiver.

"You're so hot." You desire starts to take control, clogging your mind and blocking out all the anxiety you previously felt.

"Thanks, kid." Toji says before letting out a quiet yelp as he's pushed down onto the bed, "That was quick-"

"Stop calling me 'kid'. It's annoying."

You glare at him before gently running your hands down Toji's torso, down to his hips, giving them a squeeze.

"M' not a kid... I know what I'm doing."

"I'll believe it when I see it." Toji scoffs.

"You'll believe it soon." You say as you hook your fingers under the waistband of his grey sweatpants and pull them down along with his boxers to just below his ass.

"You're already hard, really?" You tease with a smirk before reaching a hand out to give a single pump to his cock, making Toji grunt and grit his teeth when you pull your hand back.

You crouch down to drag his pants and boxers down to his ankles before pulling them off and spreading his legs apart so you can see his hole.

"You're so goddamn hot." You practically drool as you sit on your knees, your hands placed firmly on the insides of his thighs to spread his legs apart as you bring your head close to lick his hole.

When you see Toji's pleased reaction you keep going, licking and fingering him open until you deem him ready enough to take your cock.

You stand up again and unzip your jeans, pulling your pants and boxers down just enough to let your cock spring free.

"Jesus, you've actually got a big dick." Now it's Toji's turn to feel flustered when he sees your cock in all it's glory.

"You'll be even more impressed once it's actually inside you."

You smirk and grip the underside of Toji's left thigh, you push it back and use your other hand to grab your dick, slapping it against Toji's hole a few times, making the man squirm.

"You gonna put it in or wha' Ah!" Toji's eyes widen and he groans as you press the tip in.

"For an old guy you're hella tight..." You grunt and slowly push the rest of your length in. Once you're all the way in you give it a minute for Toji to adjust before you start slowly moving.

You thrust in and out slowly. brushing against his prostate each time you thrust back in.

Toji lets out a long string of moans and grunts as you move back and forth, in and out. "J-Jesus... y-you actually know what y-you're doing, h-huh?" Toji can't help but smile in ecstasy as you speed up your thrusts, "Hhholy shit-!"

Toji groans and grips the bed sheets tightly, his knuckles turning white.

"Haah, ffuck!" You moan and grab onto his hips tightly as you speed up, getting faster with each thrust.

"Oh, fuck!" Toji squeezes his eyes shut, a few tears falling down the side of his face from pure pleasure.

Toji can't believe how fast it happens, but he cums almost instantly, he blacks out for a moment until he comes back to his senses when he feels a hard smack on his thigh.

He yelps and opens his eyes, immediately moaning again once he sees you're still fucking him.

"Y-You're still g-going?"

You spank his thigh again, "I haven't even cum yet."

You groan and throw your head back, you're still gripping his hips tightly, he's sure to be bruised by now.

Toji feels as though this has gone on forever, when it's only been fifteen minutes since you started, but to him it's felt like an eternity with how many times he's came.

Toji cums again and again, he's crying at this point but he doesn't dare ask you to stop.

It's not for another twenty minutes later till you cum, Toji sees stars when it finally happens, he cums so hard he blacks out, falling limp on the bed.

You come back to your senses and immediately freak out, "Toji?!"

You look down at him worriedly, when you see that he's breathing you calm down, you have no idea what to do so you do what any normal person would do.

You pull your pants back up and walk out of the room, quietly shutting it behind you.

You walk to the front door and open it only to see a teenage boy who's about to open the door.

You immediately stop in your tracks and have no idea what to say, you just quietly step outside and past the kid, the kid eyeing you warily.

"Uhm... you Toji's kid?" You ask awkwardly.

"Yeah... I'm Megumi..." The kid, or Megumi, says, still glaring at you.

"Uhm, maybe don't go into your dad's room for a while..." Is all you say before you run away, back into your apartment.

"What a weirdo..." Megumi says out loud to himself before walking inside.

#male reader #male reader blog #male reader smut #top male reader #dom male reader #toji fushiguro #jjk #jjk x male reader #jjk toji

[flowersandbigteeth]

Would you ever consider doing an Orc royalty arranged marriage? The Orcs have taken over a Human kingdom, because of their low birthrate (and because humans are universal breeders). The Orcs start scanning the Humans in their newly conquered territory for the most genetically compatible mates, which the royalty obviously gets the first pick of because the royal line is seen as the most important. Reader happens to be the most compatible with a member of the nobility, or maybe even the royal family, and so is married off to Orc King/warlord or the Warlord’s son/the crown prince/heir.

Yes! This one was so fun to write ^_^. I had an idea for a reader with a speech disability in my drafts, and this seemed like the perfect scenario to use it. It's a little long and very fluffy. Now that I've done this one, I kind of want to do one about Vola's romance, as well. (how they met, etc.)

Orc King (Golmad) x f reader with speech disability

Word Count: 8k

TW: there is a lot of orc fluff followed by nsfw orc smut, p in v sex, some light violence, bullying by family member, arranged marriage, size difference

“Straighten your back (Y/N),” your mother snapped as she adjusted the obnoxious pink bow on your head. “You must look perfect for the King.” 

She wrinkled her nose at you. 

“Considering your…deformity…You need to look as pretty as possible, so he won't toss you aside.” 

“Oh, shut it, Mauria!” Your father chuckled, taking a thirsty sip of his wine. “A silent wife is a blessing! He’s gonna be thrilled!”  

She gave him a withering look before turning back to you and fussing with a lock of hair. Tears burned at the back of your eyes, but as usual, you said nothing. 

“Don't make that face, darling, smile!” 

You pasted a fake smile on your lips, wishing you could be anywhere else. She licked her thumb and rubbed some stray blush off your cheek before she took a step back, looking you over. 

“Wonderful! Like a little doll!” 

“Oh look, the future Queen,” your perfect big sister Starla sneered as she wandered to the pile of olives at your father's side, popping one in her mouth. “You sure you don't want to fuck one of the stableboys before that Orc splits you in two? I’d hate for you to die before you have your first orgasm!” 

She and your father cackled in laughter, but your mother frowned. Not because she insulted you, but because your mother was the pinnacle of decorum. 

“Don't talk like that, Starla. It makes you sound cheap. You're going to be Queen soon. You need to learn grace and discretion.” 

She snorted, grabbing your father's goblet of wine and taking a big gulp.

“When I'm Queen, Rotham will defeat all these miserable monsters and put their heads on pikes! Too bad (Y/N) won't live to see it after that awful creature snaps her like a twig!” 

Your smile fell, and you looked away. As the oldest daughter, Starla should have been the offering to the King of the Orcs. But Starla was beautiful and brilliant and talented and popular and…blah blah blah. Your parents couldn’t waste her on the insurgent Orc king. The nobles all thought they’d make a comeback, stage a coup, and everything would go back as it should be. Starla would marry the human prince, Rotham, still in hiding, and become the real Queen. 

You were the spare, a sacrifice to placate the enemy. Suffering a sickness as a child, your vocal cords were fused. You couldn't speak or make any noise other than whimpers and mewls. The snobby nobles your parents spent time with had labeled you damaged. When they bothered to speak to you, they acted as though you were dim, as well, which you were not. That was the only thing you surpassed Starla at, you were a very fast reader and quite good with math. 

When the Orcs overthrew the former King, they said they were looking for fertile human wives. Humans bore children at twice the rate of the Orcs, so they’d taken the kingdom to secure their hold on the region with big, robust families. 

 You were all required to submit a blood sample to determine if you were compatible, and then you'd be assigned to an Orc husband. Your mother didn't dare submit Starla’s blood. She had to remain untouched for the human prince. So she sent yours and one of the maids. Yours was a match…to the King. 

You all turned as an Orc dressed in fine livery appeared at the door. 

“The King will see you now,” he said, then turned and left. 

“Look how they dress themselves,” Starla whispered. “As if they're civilized! What a joke! He didn't even stay to escort us! Savages.” 

Your parents chittered while you sucked in a deep breath. Your mother shoved you through the door, eager to get to the negotiations, her favorite part of any encounter. 

“Back straight! Chin up! You are representing our family.” 

You stumbled forward, following the direction the Orc butler had gone. You'd been in the castle before, attending court with your parents, but as you stepped into the large hall, you saw it had all changed. 

The old tapestries had been torn down, replaced with large pelts of animals you'd never even seen before, their heads preserved and their eyes replaced with glass balls. The old wooden furniture was now twisted iron, probably made by the mountain dwarves, allies of the Orcs. They’d provided most of the weapons that led them to victory. The new flag, green with a bear and an axe pictured in silhouette, was hanging behind his throne. 

Orcs lined the gallery, laughing and chattering, but they all fell silent as you entered. You took a thick breath, forcing yourself to put one foot in front of the other and ignore their curious eyes. 

You heard Starla snort behind you as if this was all hilarious. Her disdain made you lift your chin. You would not go to the King as her joke. 

Your first glimpse of your future husband from across the long hall made your eyes widen. Even from far away, he was massive. He must have been nine or ten feet tall and wide as an Ox. 

On his broad shoulders, he wore a thick fur stole over a neat indigo shirt lined with the same cream fur. His thick legs were tucked in matching navy pants and imposing black boots. His outfit was surprisingly human. Behind him, massive shining weapons were arranged on a stand, just within arm's reach. 

When you arrived at the end of the carpet leading you to him, you curtsied as you'd been taught. 

You couldn't greet him verbally, so you waited for your mother to present you. 

“Your majesty!” She crooned. “Please let me present my lovely daughter (Y/N), your perfect blood match!” 

You tried not to tremble in front of him, but this close, he was so very large! His gold eyes passed over you, cool as cold metal. You’d never seen an Orc close-up before, and everyone had told you they were ugly, but the King in front of you was…not. No, he didn't look human, but his jaw was thick and sharp, and his eyes were a beautiful, rich color, like the setting sun. 

Thick black hair fell over one shoulder, shaved to the skin on one side. A full bottom lip wrapped around large tusks that were more exciting than unappealing. His skin was flawless, olive green that reminded you of a mossy forest. Everything about his countenance screamed royalty, though he didn't wear a crown like a human King, his head tipped up, unafraid and confident. Instead, a chunky gold chain link necklace hung around his neck, with a large diamond set at the center, identifying him as the regent.

Your breath became labored as the reality that he would soon be your husband set in. You had no idea how you could be compatible. He was almost twice your height!  

The King nodded for your mother to go on. 

“Unfortunately, my dear daughter suffered a sickness in her youth that stole her voice, but she's otherwise healthy, untouched, and fertile. Fit for a crea- King.”

The casual discussion of your sexual history in front of a hundred-odd strangers made you blush and dip the chin you'd been trying so hard to keep up.  Before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek, and you hurriedly wiped it away, probably smearing blush across your cheek. Behind you, your sister snickered. 

You peered back up at the King, wondering if he was disappointed. His eyes darted to her, and his frown deepened before they returned to you. Your heart sank, assuming he was comparing you to your stunning sister. Instead, he did the last thing you expected. He signed to you. 

“Is your family always this tiresome?”

You released an audible gasp, one of the few sounds you could make, but signed back. Learning to read sign language was something your parents and sister never bothered to do. You’d learned from the kind chaplain at the church, one of the few places your mother allowed you to go alone. He thought you ought to have a way to communicate that didn’t involve scribbling notes on paper—your parents and pretty much everyone else preferred to communicate at you, not with you. 

“I'm sorry if they displease you, Your Majesty.” 

A wide smile spread on his lips as he signed back. 

“You are incredibly polite for the daughter of such fools.”

You giggled, and your parent’s wide eyes danced between you. 

“You don't have to see them again if you'd rather not.”

At that, your breath caught in your throat, and you chose your next thought carefully. 

“Please don't kill them, Your Majesty.”

That drew a deep chuckle from his throat. It was rich and smooth, like chocolate. 

“Since you asked so politely….but if you change your mind, just let me know.”

You gave him a tight nod, unsure if he was joking or not. 

Your mother, not appreciating being out of the loop, cleared her throat. 

“Since the two of you seem to be getting along so…familiarly…there's only the matter of the reward you promised. Of course, considering the status of the match, (Y/N) being the Queen and all…we expect a significant...investment.”

The Orcs promised to compensate every family for whichever daughter they took. It was the only way they could get the citizenry not to revolt at every turn. Making each daughter valuable in gold appealed to their sensibilities, especially after the draining war. A thick eyebrow shot up on the King’s face, and your mother continued with her pitch. 

“You wouldn't want the family of the Queen living in squalor. Not because we are greedy, of course. Never that. We are incredibly humble. But we lost a great deal of our fortune during the war. What would the citizens think? You don't want them assuming you scraped some farm girl from the manure pile. We are a noble family and must exude a certain level of status, don't you agree? Especially considering her condition.” 

Your eyes widened that your mother would be so bold, but his eyes shifted to her and narrowed. He rolled a finger in her direction, signaling her to go on.   

“What exactly do you mean about her condition?” 

Seeing an opening, your mother gave him a genteel smile. 

“Well, we understand that (Y/N) will never take an active role in your rule- Her value lies in the heirs she can produce.” 

“And isn't that a blessing?” Your father piped in. “A pretty little quiet wife is preferable, no? Worth twice a chatty wench!” 

Your mother shot him a look, and swatted him. 

“I'm just saying…” he muttered before she went on. 

“What I mean is…people will assume things about her. Due to our status, the nobles all know she’s…not all there. I don't know how it is for Orcs, but the court here is…discerning.” 

She turned to Starla. 

“If my other daughter had been at all match, we would have sent her since she's a far superior candidate for Queen. Pity it didn't work out that way. In any case, I'm only thinking of your image.”

He glanced at you, signing. 

“Are you sure about keeping them alive? I’m growing tired of this nattering, aren’t you?”

You giggled again, your mother shooting you a look full of vinegar.  

“Killing them is probably not a good plan. My mother is made of tough stuff…I'm sure she’ll return as a noisy wraith and torment you about your posture,” you signed back.  

He let out a roll of laughter, crooking his finger at you. Blushing, your eyebrows rose, but you took slow steps towards him. When you were within grabbing reach, he snapped you up and settled you on his lap. He was very warm compared to the lofty, cool hall and smelled like ginger and leather. You couldn’t help but stroke the shiny black hair that fell on your side of his shoulder. You didn’t mean to be so curious, but you’d never seen an Orc up close, and he was quite the specimen. His skin was smooth and velvety to the touch. Without thinking, you poked one of his tusks with your finger. He flashed you a smile, amused at your interest, before he returned to your mother. 

“Since you are all so thoughtfully concerned with my image, it would be best to make you at home here, in the castle. You can get a taste of Orc society. You won't need any gold here. All your needs will be provided for.” 

Your mouth fell open, trying to read his thoughts, but he only smirked at you. 

“How…kind, your majesty,” your mother said, ever the diplomat. 

Starla was not happy and stomped her foot. 

“Mother! You can’t be serious! I can't be seen with these savages! Rotham will think I've been touched by beasts!” 

Your hand clapped over your mouth, never thinking clever Starla would say something so brash. 

The King’s face turned severe. His easy smile had tricked you into thinking he was a gentle giant, but his business face was terrifying. You were thankful it wasn't directed at you. 

“Rotham? Our enemy's son, leading a band of traitorous supporters? Are you saying you are harboring a fugitive and dare to show your face in my court?” 

Starla backpedaled as quickly as she could. 

“Of course not, Your Majesty, it's…it’s…another Rotham…a man from the village…a…butcher.” 

He relaxed. Which was odd to you because you knew he didn't believe her lie. 

“Good. He should be pleased he has a chance with the Queen’s sister. You can invite him to dinner if you like.” 

Starla’s face blanched, but she nodded obediently. He waved at one of the Orcs standing to the side. 

“Show them to their quarters. We will convene for a meal to welcome our new Queen shortly.” 

 When they were gone, the King turned his attention back to you.

“Would you like the chef to prepare something special for your first dinner in the castle?” 

You had no idea what to say. No one had ever asked your preference or opinion on anything. 

“We should eat what is traditional. You are welcoming me into your family, Your Majesty. I’d like to know more about your customs.”

Though he seemed satisfied with your answer, he waved a dismissive hand at you. 

“Don't call me Your Majesty. We're meant to be married. My name is Golmad.” 

He fingerspelled the letters, then showed you the sign he used for it– the gestures for gold and bear, together. You returned the sign you used for your own name. 

“May I ask a question, Golmad?” 

“Anything. I don't want you to fear me, (Y/N).”  

You organized your thoughts for a moment before you formulated your question. 

“Why do you know sign language? I can hear; you could speak if it is easier.” 

He looked you over, his expression warm. 

“I learned for you. I wanted to speak to you in your language. I knew you were for me long before you took the test– over a year ago. The test is for your human sensibilities. Your people don't rely on instinct. Demanding the test makes it something they can understand. I know by scent your sister is compatible, as well. But I don't desire her.”

Your eyebrows popped up at that admission, and your heart thumped in your chest. You never expected such care from a battle-hardened Orc king. 

“But how? I've never seen you before!” 

He smirked. 

“We Orcs are stealthier than you humans know. It's in our nature to hunt our match.” 

You frowned, a vicious thought pricking your mind. 

“Did you pick me because I'm silent?” 

His eyes narrowed, but the expression they held was not cruel. 

“You are not silent. You speak differently, but you are not a doll without thoughts. Your mother is wrong. You are the best candidate to be Queen. If I had chosen your sister, do you think she would have appeared before me as you did?” 

He patted your chest, not to fondle you, but over your heart. 

“You are a survivor, brave, and virtuous. I trust you at my side.” 

You gasped, feeling more seen than ever before, but also the weight of the responsibilities on your shoulders.

“Now, we must prepare you for Orc society.”

He tugged the big bow on your head, tossing it on the floor when he'd pulled it loose. 

“An Orc Queen will not be dressed like a puppy.”

A smile spread across his lips, and he stood, so large he could carry you with very little effort. As you passed the Orcs lining the hall, they bowed to the two of you, giving you the first taste of what it meant to be Queen. 

The bedroom he brought you to was very different from a human King’s bedroom. It had more plants than furniture, large leafy vegetation planted in a generous selection of iron pots. His bed reminded you of a nest, a wide pallet layered with thick furs in colors ranging from white to rust red to pitch black. There wasn't a spot you could stand in the room where a weapon was not in reach. Axes and swords were mounted on the walls, and iron stands on the floor. Daggers of varying sizes seemed splayed haphazardly on every horizontal surface. 

Golmad set you down and began stripping off the clothes he wore. Your cheeks burned as he revealed thick muscle after thick muscle, but you were also a bit frightened. Was he going to take you now? His eyes met yours, which had to be as large as saucers. 

“I only wore this to speak with your parents. There is wisdom in accommodating humans occasionally. They see us as monsters. Dressing like them makes them more comfortable, but now that you are mine, they will need to grow accustomed to our culture.” 

You nodded, forcing your mouth closed, and he stopped undressing when he got to his pants. The bulky planes of his chest were plenty of eye candy. You weren't sure if you were ready for the rest. 

He let out a loud call, and two Orc women appeared at the door, holding folded stacks of fur and leather.

“These are my sisters Vola and Cayenne. Don't mind their doting. Orc families are very affectionate.”

They gave you a polite bow. 

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” they signed together after they’d deposited the fabrics on a table. When Golmad stepped out of the way, they circled you with big smiles, patting your hair and pinching your cheeks as if you were a new kitten. 

“She’s so cute!” 

“I didn't believe she would be so tiny, but look at her. Precious!” 

Cayenne spun you around, examining your form. You weren’t exactly tiny in human terms, but compared to them, you were short stack. 

“We must choose something daring!” 

Vola nodded.

“Like a little wildcat!” 

You signed to Golmad, a little surprised at their sweetness. They even learned sign language for you! 

“The nobleman said the Orc women resent us and that they'll rip us to bits for stealing their men.” 

He chuckled. 

“That's nothing but propaganda. They want babies just as much as the males. A stout, fertile, submissive human husband is ideal for caring for their pups. Your people are obsessed with the purity of their women. We never had to organize a silly test for the males. The Orcesses just bop their mate on the head and drag him home.” 

He gave you a conspiratorial grin, his gold eyes glittering. 

I have a surprise for you at dinner. I think you’ll find it quite funny. 

You blinked, absorbing that fact, but decided to tuck it away for now and focus on what was happening in front of you. 

“It was kind of your sisters to learn sign language.” 

He looked slightly bashful at that comment, his green cheeks burning a bit darker. 

“Everyone is required to learn. Your staff will speak to you in your own language, not at you. Though I initially ordered it to accommodate you, we've since found tremendous value in practicing the skill.“

You didn't have time to think much more about it as the Orcesses started stripping your heavy dress off. Your cheeks burned as Golmad’s eyes roved over your bare skin, an appreciative glint in them. 

Vola wrapped a soft, asymmetrical skirt of spotted fur around your waist, and Cayenne pulled a leather crop top over your breasts. Then she secured a thick belt on top of your hips. She turned and started picking up and putting down daggers. Once she’d decided on the right one, she sheathed it in its stop at your side. 

“This one is perfect for you,” she explained—”light and sharp. You don't need might to wield a blade. Only speed and endurance.” 

She patted it. 

“We’ll help you train. Every Orc does morning training together before breakfast. We are a communal people. Training is another way to reinforce community. We hash out our disagreements on the training mat, and by the time we sit for our meal we are all on the same page. Our strength is not just our size. We win wars because our bonds are unbreakable.”

You nodded, feeling very special to be trusted with their secrets. 

They finished the outfit with fur-lined boots and a diamond necklace matching Golmad’s. Cayenne produced a makeup stick, drawing a long line across your nose from one cheek to the other and vertical lines from the center of your eyes down to your chin. 

“This is traditional for the Queen. We don’t wear crowns like your people. These markings identify your position at special events. When you are officially married, there will be tattoos and you won’t need the makeup anymore.” 

You blinked at her, wondering what your mother would say to that. An Orc appeared in the doorway, not dressed in human clothes. Instead, he wore leather pants, and was shirtless with an axe strapped to his back. 

He spoke as he signed, showing his respect for you. 

“Dinner is ready, Your Majesty.” 

You swallowed deeply as you were about to meet your future subjects, wearing less clothing than you’d ever worn in public before. Your arms and stomach were bare, as well as one leg where the skirt split. Golmad scooped you up and plopped you on his shoulder as he carried you to the dinner hall. You could hear the raucous laughter of Orcs celebrating, but when you walked through the door, all were silent and bowed in unison. 

It was difficult to find them amid the massive Orcs, but you finally spotted your family seated at the long table at the right of the King and Queen’s seats. Starla was dressed to impress in a low-cut gown emphasizing her assets, though she looked disgusted at the Orcs around her. When your mother caught sight of you, her mouth opened, and she covered it in horror as if they’d done something terrible to you. 

Golmad waved a hand, and the Orcs all took their seats at the table. As he got comfortable, arranging you on his lap, his sister Vola sat down with a familiar man on her lap. 

“Rotham?!” your sister screeched. “What the fuck are you doing here?!” 

You felt Golmad’s body shudder underneath you as he chuckled. Vola shot a glare at Starla, petting Rotham’s head. His cheeks darkened just a bit, but he snuggled against her ample breasts. 

“Don’t speak so familiarly with my mate,” Vola spat. 

Starla’s eyes looked like they might pop out of her head. 

“Rotham, how could you? We were supposed to be married! I was supposed to be Queen! How can you lay with that…monster?! What about your people? YOUR COUNTRY?” 

The table had grown silent as everyone watched the drama play out. 

“Vola is my mate,” Rotham said, looking down his nose at her. “I love her! Why would I want to sit on a throne waiting for someone pretending to be my friend to stab me in the back and fuck my wife when I can stay cozy and safe tending Vola’s hearth?” 

He shook his head as if he were knocking something unpleasant out of it. 

“Why do I have to be King, anyway?! Just because I'm a man? You know what, Starla? You've never once asked what I wanted! Do you realize that? You don't care about what I want, only that I fulfill what fantasy you have about conquering the Orcs and obtaining a sparkly trinket. You'd be happy to stand on the sidelines like a swooning maiden, spending money you haven't earned on meaningless crap, while I risk my life and limbs for a battle I don't even care about!”

Starla looked incensed, shocked, and confused by his position. 

“But she's a monster, Rotham. The enemy!”

His brow drew and jabbed a finger at her. 

“Don’t you dare call my mate a monster; she is no enemy! It’s cruel and disrespectful. Vola loves me for me! She likes my cooking! She kisses me when I get hurt! She listens to my fears and helps me accomplish my goals! My goals! Not a bunch of spoiled noble's goals. 

I'm warning you, don't provoke her. I don’t love you, but I don’t want to see you harmed, either.” 

His smile met Vola’s before his eyes dipped to her body, looking quite pleased with his wife. 

Starla stood up, knocking over her chair as her sense dissolved with her dream of becoming Queen. The real Starla came out, the snotty girl who used to throw tantrums when she didn’t get a toy she wanted at the Goddesses’ Supper.

“Kissing your boo-boos like a sniveling child? Chasing frivolous goals? What the fuck are you talking about? You are royalty! You have a responsibility to the country! To me! What could possibly be more appealing than being the King?” 

Rotham huffed. 

“I want to be a baker! That's all I ever wanted to do, and because I was born my father's child, I never even had the option to try. My parents planned out my life, then advisors, then generals, and even you. I could never do what I wanted. I was scolded if I ever went near the kitchen, even to bake in my spare time! It was hell!” 

Starla snorted. 

“A baker?! That's work for common folk! It's beneath you! You’re throwing away the crown to bake cookies?! That’s pathetic! Stop this nonsense right now!” 

Vola growled. 

“Do not speak to my mate that way. Rotham deserves to be as free as any of us. He's an excellent baker. You're just sour he's not putting himself in harm's way to elevate your status!” 

Starla's eyes narrowed on Vola.

“How dare you think, you, a filthy beast, are worthy of a Prince?! MY PRINCE?! You’re nothing but an ugly ogre!” 

You felt the tension rise as every Orc leaned in, watching what would happen next. Vola gave her a cool smile. 

“Do you mean to challenge me for my mate, little girl?” 

“He’s not your mate! He’s mine! MINE!” 

Golmad held up a hand. 

“The human has declared an official challenge for Vola’s mate. Take her to the ring.” 

Starla screamed as an Orc picked her up and awkwardly carried her out of the room. Everyone else at the table followed, including your parents, whispering between each other.

The battle ring was a simple dirt circle with thick ropes marking its outline. By the time you and Golmad arrived, Starla had been placed in the center, and someone had armed her with a thin rapier, probably the only weapon in the arsenal against the wall she could lift. 

You could see the terror on her face when Vola set Rotham down next to you and entered the ring, cracking her knuckles. 

“Wait! Wait! This is madness!” Starla screamed, realizing there was no chance she would win this fight. 

Golmad waved her screams away. 

“In our tradition, a mate challenge is binding. You should not have spoken so carelessly if you did not want to fight. You must follow through. Prepare yourself! Begin!” 

Your heart raced, wondering if you should do something to save your sister. Golmad caught your worried expression and signed to you with a small smile. 

“She won’t kill her. Death’s not necessary to teach her a lesson.” 

You let out a breath of relief, leaning into Golmad’s warm body. The two competitors circled one another…rather, Vola circled Starla, and Starla looked for an exit. The Orcs packed tightly around the ring, and there was no gap to escape. When she realized there was no way out, she raised her weapon with two hands as best as possible. 

“Stay back, beast! I’ll cut you!” 

Vola laughed, darting forward so fast she was only a green blur. You heard a crack, and Starla smacked the dirt, blood spraying across her pretty dress. Mercifully, Vola didn’t knock her out. Starla’s whining voice drifted up from the ground. 

“My nose! She broke my fucking nose!” 

Vola snatched her weapon up and pointed the blade at her throat. 

“Do you concede?” 

Starla’s eyes got big. She focused on the tip of the rapier and nodded. 

To make her point, Vola adjusted her grip and stabbed the sword into the ground next to Starla’s head. A clump of her hair fluttered to the ground beside her. 

Leaning in so close to her that their noses almost touched, Vola pinned her with an icy glare. 

“The next time you raise your voice to my mate, I will not miss, little girl.” 

Golmad lifted a hand, ending the fight. 

“Vola has defended her claim! To dinner!” 

The Orcs cheered, but Rotham cheered the loudest. When she returned to him, he squeezed her biceps, looking up at her with stars in his eyes. 

“You're so strong! You were fast, too, like a beautiful bolt of lightning!”

“Rotham, please…” Starla whimpered from the dirt, hoping to get sympathy from him. 

He only frowned and turned away. Vola scooped him up, swinging him around while she kissed him. 

“I'll always protect you and your honor, my darling,” she said. “To my dying breath.” 

They and the other Orcs piled out of the room, leaving your parents to help Starla with her bloody nose. As Golmad carried you out, you heard them speaking to her as your mother helped her to her feet. 

“Don’t be difficult, Starla. We need to return to the table. Buck up.” 

“Are you insane? My nose is broken, and I’m covered in blood! I’m not going back there!” 

For once, you heard your father sound stern. 

“You got yourself into this foolishness, Starla. If Rotham is not leading a rebellion, we must find favor with our new King. We cannot be absent from (Y/N)’s dinner. It would be disrespectful, and we don't have the money to live up to the standards we're used to without her grace! Living here is our best option. I’m not going to be tossed on the street to defend your ego.” 

When Golmad set you on his lap at the head of the table, Starla sulkily took her place beside your mother, a napkin on her nose to slow the bleeding. When she did look up from her plate, it was to glare across the table at Vola and Rotham, caught up in their own banter between lovers. 

Golmad cleared his throat to call everyone to attention, and the noise quickly quieted. 

He signed as he spoke, so everyone could understand. 

“We come together for this meal to welcome my lovely Queen (Y/N) to our fold!” 

He glanced down at your parents, his face a bit smug. 

“Family and community are a core value of our kind. I also welcome (Y/N)’s parents and sister to our castle. Please do your best to help them grow accustomed to our traditions.

This night marks a step forward in the blending of human and Orc society, and as I have found my match, I wish you all your own mates so that, from the wounds of war, another generation of both our peoples can flourish! Let’s enjoy the bounty of this land together!” 

That was the end of the speech, as Orcs carried out massive dishes of roasted meat, vegetables, and golden-crusted pies and arranged them on the table. 

Happy Orcs were loud and raucous, apparently enjoying giving toasts. Everyone guzzled ale as they tipped their glasses to speeches of triumphs in war, hunting their new mates, and lots of well wishes to your future children. 

Numerous Orcs lined up to kiss your hand and declare their devotion to your protection. Meanwhile, your parents focused their energy on courting Golmad’s favor, complimenting the food, the music, and whatever else they could think of that might endear them to him. Your mother even gave you a tight compliment on your skirt. 

While you tried to focus on greeting your subjects, your mind wandered to the warm body underneath you. Golmad’s firm, barrel chest brushed your arm with every deep breath. The bulging muscles of his thigh were like sitting on a stone chair covered in bulky leather, but those features aside, your absolute favorite part of his physique was his husky stomach. It was firm and toned from daily training but thick from eating well. Leaning into it was quite comfortable and cozy. 

Everything about him was so big, including the enormous shaft, you could feel at your back. Maybe it was the wine, but your initial fear of it had slowly changed to curious interest as the night progressed. What would it be like? How would it feel inside of you? What would it taste like? The lewd thoughts were incredibly distracting. You found yourself wiggling your bottom to brush it without thinking. Every time you did, you felt a low rumble in his chest no one else could hear above the merrymaking. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked when there was finally a break in the production, and you could speak. 

You nodded and gave him a wan smile. 

“Your court is delightful. It's just…

When you paused his focus on you became intense. 

What's wrong? You can tell me, I won't be offended.”

You looked over the celebration, considering how your day played out compared to what you expected. 

“A lot has happened today…between the meeting and the fight…I'm a little tired, to be honest. I want to keep up with your people…but…” 

His gold eyes gleamed with predatory interest, making heat swell in your core. 

“I have a remedy for that. Orc celebrations take a bit of time to get used to. They'll all be up till dawn.” 

He stood before you could ask anything more, willing the Orcs to quiet down. 

“My Queen and I will retire for the evening! Enjoy the food and drink. Show our guests how Orcs celebrate!” 

A happy cry rang out, and the party started again as Golmad carried you out of the room. Your heartbeat thumped in your chest, realizing this was the first time the two of you would be alone for any length of time. He was so large he could do anything to you, and that thought had become far more exciting than frightening.  

When you arrived at his bedroom, he gently set you down on a table and turned his attention to starting a fire in the fireplace to warm the cool room. 

You swung your legs over the edge of the tall table, watching the muscles in his back flex as he loaded the hearth with logs. When he turned, he pulled off his boots and tucked them in a corner.  Finally, he approached you, his footsteps silent for someone so large. His eyes moved over your body as if deciding what part to engage first. 

“Do you think a back rub would help you relax? It’s been an eventful day.” 

You nodded, your heart skipping at the thought of his big hands on you. He tugged your boots off and set them next to his before settling the two of you on his bed, with you on his lap. 

You let out a long moan as his thick fingers pressed gently into the tense knots in your shoulder. His breath fanned across the nape of your neck, causing a pleasurable shiver to snake up your spine. Since his hands were busy, he spoked to you, his head dipping close to your ear. 

“I didn’t have a moment to tell you how beautiful you looked, today. In your human clothes, but especially so in ours.” 

You hummed a thank you, a sizzling tingle vibrating in your ear. As his thumbs slid down the curve of your waist, you realized he could circle both hands around your middle. His thumbs worked the knots away, but his other fingers smoothed over your bare skin. 

He seemed to get distracted by your arms, shifting his attention to one. He measured the diameter of your wrist with his thumb and forefinger. 

“You are delicate. I feel fortunate to have someone so sweet to protect and love.” 

At the word love, your cheeks burned, and you let out a quick mewl. You heard him chuckle behind you. He spun you around to face him, putting his hand lightly around your neck. Your breath came short, and your eyes widened at him, not sure what he was doing. 

“You are a precious blessing. I’ll never hurt you, (Y/N). If something hurts, pinch me, and I’ll know to stop, okay?” 

You nodded, relaxing just slightly. With his other hand, he tipped your head to the side, and the fingers around your neck massaged the muscles that had gotten tight from gritting your teeth. Your eyelashes fluttered as all of the tension slipped away. When you opened them again, Golmad’s eyes met yours, flickering as if they were lit from within and drawing you forward. 

He loosened his grip on your neck, and you pushed yourself up on your knees, pressing your small hands into his chest as you leaned up to him. 

For a moment, he looked surprised, but his eyes tracked yours as you looked over his features, pulled to his nicely shaped lips. He seemed to have no intention to push you to be intimate with him, but he was to be your husband. You were curious about him. You sucked in a quick breath before you tipped your head forward and brushed your lips against his. That’s what a wife was supposed to do, no? 

He let out a deep, rumbling grumble you felt between your legs. His big hand swept you up by the small of your back, while the other cradled your face. The next time your lips came together was a hungry, needy kiss. Your hand wrapped around his tusk, sliding over the smooth surface as you explored with your lips. 

You’d never kissed before, so you weren’t entirely sure what to do beyond the first taste. Pulling back you looked at him through the veil of your lashes, cheeks burning and lips swollen. 

“Was that good?” You asked. 

His eyebrows rose slightly, and he gave you a gentle nod. 

“Is this your first time kissing?” 

You looked away, embarrassed at your inexperience, but a thick finger pushed your chin back in his direction. 

“I didn’t mean it as an insult. I assumed the “untouched” bit of your mother’s introduction was a production. I mean…look at you. You’re gorgeous.”

You frowned, and he looked contrite. 

“I didn’t mean…to question your purity…I only meant-”

He huffed, and you were surprised to see a confident Orc King flustered by you. When his gaze met yours, it was open and vulnerable. 

“You’re so much smaller than me. I don’t want to scare you.” 

You searched his face for a moment. 

“You don’t scare me. I want to please you. Will you show me how?” 

His cheeks darkened to a rich forest, and his mouth fell open. You watched his pupils widen, and he nodded, eyes drifting over your body. You pushed yourself up on your knees, kissing him again, hoping to encourage whatever might come next. He groaned, thick hands wrapping around your waist. 

Feeling bolder, you let your hands move over his bare shoulders and gently trace every plane of his chest. He shuddered when your fingers slipped over a nipple, so you tried it again, earning you another rich groan. His tongue slipped past your lips, tasting you for the first time, and he hummed into your mouth.  

Beneath you, the shaft you’d already thought felt large suddenly got much firmer and larger. Curious, you gingerly let your fingers slip down his chest, palming him through his pants. A deep rumble vibrated his chest, and you mewled as he suddenly flipped you under him. You looked up at his massive body looming over you, panting. 

His eyes ate up your skin, glowing with appreciation. A fingertip traced your collarbone down the V of the little crop top you wore. It took only a flick of his fingers to rip it in half. You gasped, chest heaving. He met your gaze, searching for any indication you didn’t want him to go on. 

“Are you okay?” 

You nodded quickly, your nipples pebbling now exposed to the air. He smirked, dipping his head to press a kiss into the top of one breast and then the other before he moved lower. Pleasure you weren’t used to was intoxicating as he licked and sucked your nipples. Your breaths were heaving, and your thoughts scrambled. 

Though thick, his fingers were nimble, unbuckling the belt at your waist and stripping the skirt off you. 

Instinctively, you looked away, never having been so exposed in your life. A grunt brought your eyes back to him, and Galmod squeezed your cheek before he spoke. 

“It’s my job to please you. May I?”

Your nod was far more enthusiastic than you intended, and he grinned. A thumb teased a nipple, while his thick tongue traced your slit. A breathy mewl slipped out, and he glanced up without pulling away. His gaze was intent. Every hunting instinct he possessed focused on making sure you were enjoying what he had to give you. His tongue dipped inside of you the first time anything or anyone had touched you there. Your back arched, and your eyelashes fluttered. Your hand instinctively clutched his hair, your hips bucking into his mouth as wetness flooded your channel. 

He chuckled, the added sensation making you whimper. Though your flavor was appealing, Golmad had a second reason for filling you with his tongue. He also stretched you, preparing you to take something much larger. When you were eagerly rocking your hips to create more friction, he slipped out of you, turning his attention to your clit. Your irises crossed, your first real orgasm exploding between your legs and shooting through every nerve in your body. You were practically drooling as he slipped two fingers inside, bringing you right back where you started, needy and wanting. 

He stopped for a moment, cupping your chin to get your attention. 

“Do you want more?” 

Your fingers were shaking as you responded. 

“Yes…please?” 

He chuckled, leaning down and kissing you deeply before he rocked back on his knees. 

“It will hurt for just a second, then it will feel good…but if you want me to stop, just pinch me. I’ll stop.” 

You nodded quickly, wiggling your hips to entice him. You wanted whatever he planned on next. His gaze was ravenous, and you could tell staying in control of his instincts was work, but you trusted him, which made no sense since you'd only met. Something about him made you feel safe and protected, maybe the way he seemed so worried about hurting you. 

Your eyes popped as he slipped out of his pants. A thick cock bobbed in front of him. You’d never seen something so viscerally sexy, his bulky green body hovering over you, a thick hand fisting a massive shaft. A zip of sheer excitement made you quake. You felt a little mad. His cock had to be too big for you, but you wanted more than anything to take it. A fresh wave of slick leaked from inside of your spasming cunt. 

Your legs looked tiny in his hands as he spread them. He rubbed the large, round head of his cock against your slit, watching you whimper and beg for him with your eyes. 

Entering you maddeningly slow, you felt your pussy stretch to accommodate him. It felt good, the strain feeling more decadent than painful. There was no way you could fit his entire length inside, but he didn't seem concerned, gripping the base for more control. His fingers circled your clit, and you hardly felt a slight pinch through a veil of pleasure. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he filled you completely. 

When your gazes met, you could see the concentration on his face, his brow drawn, and his jaw locked. You nodded to him, asking him to go on, telling him that you wanted it. 

Pulling back, his hips snapped forward pushing a high-pitched mewl past your lips. He watched you, looking for any pain, but whatever he saw just egged him on. The concerned expression melted to a smug smirk, and he picked up the pace, heavy thrusts jerking your body against the soft furs. 

His long fingers wrapped around your neck, holding you in place while his strokes grew more intense. 

“That’s it, you can take it,” he groaned, his husky voice tickling your ears. 

You were amazed at your own body, your slippery fluids coating his shaft and allowing him to grind in and out of you despite his size. Though you could feel the strength in his hands, he only applied light pressure to your throat, making your heart skip. He could crush you easily, yet despite the rapture in his eyes, he held you like a baby dove.  

The tension in your thighs relaxed, your legs opening for him far wider than you even knew they could to accommodate his big body. 

The room filled with the sound of your sweet mewls and his guttural grunts. 

“So good,” he drawled, words slurring. “You were made for me.” 

You wanted to sign, “you, as well,” but your brain was mush. 

His cock battered you in just the right spot, while his free hand never left your clit, pinching and circling it until your eyes crossed and you were drooling. You soared, high on his musky scent, your body sparkling in ways you’d never felt before. Pleasure licked the tips of your nerves, zipping up and down your spine like lightning bolts. The only thing you could do was hold on tight to the hand circling your throat, your nails digging into the sinewy flesh. 

Your mother had made it seem like sex was a chore a wife did to please her husband and keep him from messing around. You had no idea it could be like this. Golmmad’s gold eyse lit as your wet cunt spasmed around him. A wet rush of bliss washed over you like the tide tugging you under. Your scream pierced the heady air as you reached your peak, spongey walls sucking him deeper. 

It was one thing to cum underneath him, but the look on his face as your body clamped around him, wet slick coating his cock, was sheer euphoria. His mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut as he roared his finale. Making a large, powerful Orc king fall apart made you feel powerful and desirable in a way you’d never been allowed to feel before. It was a high that couldn’t be matched. You wanted to do this again and again until neither of you could walk or think. 

You felt his shaft grow impossibly harder, twitching inside you as he emptied himself into you in searing ropes. The ragged, stiff thrusts to seek his pleasure pulled another lingering orgasm from your pussy. You felt tears slipping down your cheeks as he slammed his hips into yours one last time. 

For a moment, the two of you just panted together, his head dipping down just an inch or so above yours. You felt a thick thumb trace your cheek, wiping your tears away. 

“I-I didn’t hurt you?” he whispered, and you forced your eyes open so he wouldn’t panic. 

A small smile and a slight jerk of your head told him no, you were just fine. He peeled himself off of you, sinking down into his bed and pulling you onto his lap. His fingers played lazily in your hair as he caught his breath. 

“What do you think?” he asked, his tone raw and vulnerable. 

You propped your head on one fist, elbows resting on his chest, while you wound a lock of dark hair around a finger, thinking of how to answer him. You felt his breath halt, waiting eagerly for your answer. Finally, you pulled your legs under you, sitting cross-legged on top of him so you could use your hands. 

“Can we do that again in the morning?” 

His eyebrows jumped before his lips stretched into a broad smile, responding with his free hands. 

“Of course, as many times as you like.”

You grinned and yawned, plastering your body on top of his. His warmth sunk into your bones, and sleep came easily. The last thing you felt before you dozed off was his hand stroking your hair as he muttered thanks to the goddess for bringing you to him. 

#monster romance #monster boyfriend #monster x girl #monster x reader #monster fluff #x reader #terato fic #teratophillia #orc boyfriend #orc #orctober #orc x reader #orc x human #monster lover #terato #monsters #orc fluff #orc romance #orcs #human x monster #monster bf #monster #monster husband #monster oc #monster x human #monster fic

[theoldsports]

Mistake.

Coriolanus Snow x Reader | 3.2k words

SMUT 18+ ONLY | murder, manipulation, dubcon, mutually assured destruction, some bondage, gun violence. everything, really. danger!

The floor of Coriolanus and [Y/N]’s bedroom used to be hardwood. She would hear him on his way in when he worked late at the Citadel. The creaking floorboards typically snapped her out of sleep. Recently, Coriolanus decided on carpeting the room, full well knowing that he often woke up [Y/N] with his returns. If she stayed asleep, she asked less questions. The carpet was rich and purple. Tastefully purple, like a mauve. Coriolanus did not tolerate tacky like most ‘Capitol Phonies’ as [Y/N] called them when he would get agitated with couture, fashion and consumer trends.

When Coriolanus entered the room tonight, he was not concerned with waking his lover like usual. He was furious and he wanted attention. Coriolanus threw the door open with a bang. He came in like a shot. [Y/N] sat bolt up right in bed at the unexpected noise so late at night. She went from asleep to over alert. With practiced ease, she yanked open the bedside table’s white drawer and reached for the handgun Coriolanus had gotten her as an anniversary present. The wife of a young Senator couldn’t afford to take risks.

[Y/N] extended her arm, pointing the gun where her tired eyes spotted movement and undid the safety. She blinked once. Then twice. It was clear that it was Coriolanus, not a murderer. Not a murderer that would do her harm, anyway.

“Fuck!” Coriolanus said, raising his hands in surprise. “Darling, it’s me. Drop it!”

She would have known his footsteps if he hadn’t put in carpet.

“Coryo, good god. Don’t do that!” [Y/N] screamed. Instantly, she snapped the safety back on and dropped the gun back in the drawer. “I could have shot you! What time is it?”

“I—I don’t know! Late!” Coriolanus shouted and shrugged his jacket off. “Fuck!” [Y/N] watched his burgundy coat smack into the wall as he tossed it in frustration. Coriolanus didn’t usually get visibly angry. Instead, he got cold. There was door slamming sometimes to end an argument, maybe dirty possessive sex, but normally, he became calculating vile to be around instead of petulantly rage-filled.

Today must have been a bad day.

He almost got shot to top it off.

“I’m sorry,” [Y/N] said like she was attempting to defuse a bomb. She had only had to speak to him like that once or twice in her years of knowing him. Normally, Coriolanus found that tone condescending. “Coryo, come here.”

Coriolanus made no mind of her words. He continued to pull off his clothes a layer at a time clumsily. He pulled at his hair, he groaned sounds of anguish barely below a holler, he even threw one of his beautifully polished shoes across the room. Real, adult male rage. The kind you stayed away from.

“Coriolanus Snow, you’re going to hurt yourself!” [Y/N] shouted. “You’re gonna… hurt me, or break something. What’s wrong with you?” [Y/N] said cautiously while she climbed out of bed in her nearly transparent red nightie.

Coriolanus breathed heavily. He was trying to sooth his anger. He knew this behavior, this blackout rage, was unbecoming. His eyes focused on [Y/N]’s, and then [Y/N]’s throat, then [Y/N]’s dress, and what was visible under [Y/N]’s dress. His breathing slowed a bit and he pushed his loose curls out of his eyes with the back of his hand.

“You still with me?” [Y/N] asked, stepping into where he stood. “Coryo, look at me,” [Y/N] commanded. She reached out with a hand as if Coriolanus was a wild animal that might bite her and slowly placed it on the side of his cheek. Gently, she guided him to look down at her. He stared down at her almost expressionlessly. [Y/N] reached up with her free hand to tucked Coriolanus’s long hair out of his face. “What happened? The truth, preferably.”

“Where… Where’d you get that nightgown?” Coriolanus deflected.

“Bought it last week.”

“It’s very striking on you. You aren’t cold in that thing?”

[Y/N] shook her head and dropped her hand from Coriolanus’ face. She thought her window for some sort of talk about why he had behaved like that had latched closed. “No.” She sighed. [Y/N] spent another moment examining Coriolanus with her eyes to make sure that he wasn’t hurt or completely falling to pieces standing before her in merely his crisp black pinstriped trousers and belt. Once she felt her once over was sufficient, she turned to walk back to the bed to lay down.

“I… I lied to someone when I should have told them the truth,” Coriolanus started as [Y/N] climbed back under the pristine white covers on their bed. “It was a miscalculation and I suspect it’s going to take… work to… eradicate the rest of problem entirely.”

He was incapable of saying ‘I made a mistake and my actions have consequences’ like a normal person. All the same, relinquishing that information cost him a lot emotionally. He didn’t share burdens. Coriolanus didn’t share anything.

“This was another Senator?”

“It involves another Senator, yes,” he said. “It’s inconvenient.”

“Fix it,” she said. There was no more advice to be offered on the subject without argument and she knew that Coriolanus would fix it, by whatever means necessary. [Y/N] patted the bed beside her again. “Come to bed.”

Coriolanus climbed into bed stiffly and laid beside [Y/N]. He settled for laying in an uncomfortable, temporary position because he did not expect to fall asleep in his pressed slacks. She wrapped an arm around him and yanked him on top of her, forcing his head to rest on her chest. Coriolanus liked it when [Y/N] let him use her like a pillow. [Y/N]’s heart went so fast when he was near like that. Coriolanus wondered if it was because she was afraid of him. He smiled.

“Did you get this nightgown for me?” Coriolanus asked. He traced the sheer fabric around one of [Y/N] nipples and watched the bud become stiffer with every rotation. He did that to her, not some no-talent, inexperienced Senator who probably couldn’t keep his own dick hard.

[Y/N] scoffed with her bottom lip captured between her straight teeth. “Who else?” She said plainly.

“You got all dressed up in this and I didn’t even get home on time, huh?” He said, sounding almost disappointed. Coriolanus’ finger slid under the strap of the dress and snapped it against her skin.

“There’s always tomorrow. It’s not like I don’t live with you,” [Y/N] chanced sliding her fingers into his hair. Coriolanus often hated when she touched his overly manicured hair, but [Y/N] knew he found it soothing in a moment of private vulnerability. She knew he liked the attention. [Y/N] tangled her fingers in his white blonde hair, combing out the product he had put in it that morning to hold it in place. Coriolanus let her. “You’re so tense. Relax.” [Y/N] said.

“Can’t. Go back to sleep, Darling. I might go for a run, think.”

“…You could discuss your miscalculation.”

Coriolanus was silent. That was a no without saying no. [Y/N] tugged his hair carefully in frustration. “Please stay here with me. If you go out, I’ll be all nerves til you’re properly back with me,” She said. “Stay. I’m awake now… Blow off some steam. The adrenaline of pointing a gun at my husband’s going to keep me awake for a while too.”

“I never should have bought you that,” Coriolanus said firmly, but maintained a smirk. “If I stayed with you all day, you would have no reason for needing the gun. You wouldn’t ever have to wear clothes either. Well, what you’re wearing now is hardly clothes to begin with.”

“I’m sorry. About the gun, not the nightgown,” [Y/N] said. Coriolanus stole kisses across parts of her exposed and covered chest. Eventually his mouth came to rest over her clothed left nipple, with his teeth giving it a gentle tug. “Coryo…” [Y/N] whimpered.

“You want me to relax, here’s me,” Coriolanus leaned up and kissed [Y/N]’s lips. “Relaxing.” He smirked.

[Y/N] genuinely never did know if Coriolanus was out-of-his-mind obsessed with her, or if he told her what she wanted to hear because that kind of talk made Coriolanus feel better about himself in a roundabout way. Either way, she got something out of it, so complaining at this stage felt unimportant.

Sustaining two deluded minds in a relationship meant both parties had to consistently 1) lie, 2) obsess over minutia, 3) fuck.

See, it wasn’t love, but it wasn’t just fucking either. The pair could not love. Something had happened to each of them that made real romantic or intimate compatibility impossible. Their intentions for the other weren’t selfless, but they mutually let other believe they were.

They were perfect together.

They had unified strength, a need for control and that beloved little thing that made them work: obsession; fundamentally. To hear one of them talk manically about the other, was to see the face of God. To each of them, the other was the only person who had ever kept them from getting bored, so they made it work. It was the endless chase that kept them going. That, and a constant need to outdo the other. Daily, they engaged in a delicate pantomime of intimacy and all their world was the stage.

“Did you hurt someone, honey?” [Y/N] moaned as Coriolanus kissed her, bucking her hips up. “You only act like this when you’ve hurt someone. Y-you, oh fuck, you know I don’t care.” She said.

“Cut it out.” He snapped.

“Who.”

“How many times before have I told you not to ask?” Coriolanus said, pulling his lips away from her chest and instead leaned back to bury two fingers inside her wetness to affirm his point. He had already noticed she hadn’t been wearing panties under the translucent nightie, so it was easy.

[Y/N] inhaled sharply at the abrupt stretching sensation and shut her eyes. “I wasn’t asking, Coriolanus.”

Coriolanus stretched her further, eliciting an explicit moan from [Y/N]. She clawed at the fabric of the only stitches he had left: his trousers.

Through gritted teeth, Coriolanus choked out “Festus Creed.”

“Festus?” [Y/N] said as she sat up on her elbows. They had known him since they were children. Coriolanus didn’t stop fucking her brutally with his hand. “Coryo… You didn’t.”

“He said something he shouldn’t have and he took his coffee too sweet to notice before it was too late. The only worry is if someone saw. Eyes everywhere. It was too public.” Coriolanus grunted. He felt himself getting hard from watching his wife fuck herself on his long fingers whilst he confessed to killing a childhood companion.

[Y/N] knew it was in poor taste to feel so good from hearing something so awful. She did not care because who was going to judge her in the privacy of her own home? She let out her most wanton moan yet when Coriolanus pressed in a third finger. He knew had an advantage in the conversation considering their current position. Coriolanus knew exactly what she wanted and that he was not going to get her to cum just from the penetration of his fingers. Effortlessly, he slid his thumb over her clit and rubbed it quickly. “W-why…” [Y/N] tried her best to sound coherent.

“He wanted something that wasn’t his.” Coriolanus muttered, leaning his mouth into [Y/N]’s bare neck.

This could have meant Festus had coveted her, or that he had coveted the presidency. Whatever it was, Coriolanus didn’t like his foods to touch and took care of the problem. [Y/N] let herself believe that out of the possible options, it was her that had gotten in the way of the two men’s relationship. It made her grin an unfortunate grin.

“Coriolanus, you sh-shouldn’t have d-done that,” [Y/N] said. Her thighs were practically shaking. “That was a mistake.” She tried. It was a mistake. Logically, she knew that. [Y/N]’s quivering hands unbuckled his belt. Carefully, she slid the fine black leather through the metal fixings and soft fabric loops. It stayed clutched in her hand.

“What was a mistake?” Coriolanus asked coyly. “This?” His hand slid out of her, making [Y/N] yelp at its absence.

At least [Y/N] was able to think clearer without his hand in her folds. [Y/N] clutched the belt in her hands tighter. “Fuck you.” [Y/N] said. She sat up further causing Coriolanus to lean back further. Her temper flared. She hated how much Coriolanus liked it when she got angry. Of course none of her feelings were really her own with out Coriolanus’ desire and interests. Her temper escalated until she could feel a full throbbing in her left armpit and side. [Y/N] also hated how aroused she still felt. Her friend was dead, after all. She sent a silent prayer to Festus, wherever he ended up.

[Y/N] knew this desire she had was going to be a challenge, but she wanted to punish Coriolanus carnally. Everything was too easy for him as it was.

When Coriolanus sat up against the fluffy pillows and the metal headboard, [Y/N] wasted no time climbing into his lap. She stared seriously into his blue eyes for a moment and leaned into his ear. “I’m extremely disappointed in you.” She said.

Nervousness coursed through her veins. Coriolanus was going to be very upset with her. She grasped Coriolanus’ left wrist in the same hand that held his belt. In one fluid motion, [Y/N] grabbed Coriolanus’ other wrist and clutched them over his head. She pressed his wrists together and linked them with the belt. Before she locked the belt on itself, she pushed his beautiful pale hands against the metallic headboard she was so familiar with chained to herself and cinched the belt closed fast enough to rash up Coriolanus’ delicate wrists.

Coriolanus looked at her in stunned shock. He tried to pull against the belt once.

Twice.

Three times.

It jerked the metal bedframe with a crack.

“What the fuck is this?” Coriolanus said through gritted teeth.

“Punishment. You… I… I said I was extremely disappointed in you. You created a significant amount of unnecessary stress because… Because what? A man I’ve known since I was twelve wanted to share your toys? Is that it?”

The crease between Coriolanus’ eyebrows deepened and his eyes. [Y/N] popped the button on Coriolanus’ pants.

“Now, I’m gonna get some pleasure out of you if it kills me. For my sake, not yours.” [Y/N] said. She shimmied Coriolanus’ pants and boxers down to his knees. Coriolanus wasn’t making this movement easy for her with his wriggling.

“[Y/N], get me out of this. Now!” Coriolanus commanded. At the noise, she grabbed his cock and circled her thumb around its head a few times. He was a leaking mess; he liked this more than he implied. Coriolanus let out a whimper, whether from pleasure or being emasculated. Either would do.

“No.” [Y/N] said softly. She released his cock and climbed properly back onto his lap and slowly sank all the way down on his painfully hard cock. Coriolanus was tall and broad so it was never a surprise to [Y/N] that he was so big. She herself moaned at the familiar stretch of taking him in all the way. [Y/N] rolled her hips to compensate as she settled. [Y/N] chose not think about the consequences for what she was doing. She thought about Coriolanus instead. She glanced down at Coriolanus. Of course he looked frustratingly gorgeous. He always did. His hair looked extremely tousled and his eyes were truculent. His jaw clenched in a grimace of some passionate emotion.

[Y/N] had never seen Coriolanus below her like this. She liked it.

Coriolanus thrusted his hips up, but [Y/N] sat still, not dignifying his need with a response. “No, this is an apology. This is for me now, not you.”

“[Y/N], please—“

Begging so soon?

[Y/N] fucked herself on his cock sharply. Repeatedly, she lifted herself high and slammed herself back down his length. She had no idea sex felt so good in this position.

“Coryo, I want an apology for whatever this is. You should be ashamed of what you’ve done. Are you?”

Silence. He looked away from her.

“I asked you a question.” [Y/N] whispered when she leaned in to bite Coriolanus’ earlobe.

“No.” He said. [Y/N] leaned back and struck him with her open palm. She smiled to herself as she did so, thinking of the night of their engagement party. How striking his pale face always looked with the contrast of a stiff red mark on it.

“[Y/N]!” Coriolanus shouted at the stinging sensation, pulling at his restraints. Coriolanus hated not feeling in control. He wanted to hold [Y/N], to squeeze her, to devour her alive.

[Y/N] leaned to clutch his bound forearms, bouncing up and down sickeningly fast. “You’re not ashamed? Guilty? You think this is deserved, this cruelty?” He didn’t have to answer for [Y/N] to know he didn’t feel ashamed. Coriolanus couldn’t feel shame quite like that, only self pity. He let out another moan at her words. [Y/N] clawed her nails down his biceps on a journey to his abdomen. “Coryo, apologize to me.” She purred.

“I…” Coriolanus started to apologize, but [Y/N] began sucking brutal hickeys on his neck first, then collarbones. He could barely string a sentence together at the sensation. By the time he had four blossoming bruises on the marble column of his throat, he was writhing beneath [Y/N]. He was getting frustrated. Every time he tried to buck his hips naturally (or desperately) into hers, she refused to move or acknowledge until he stopped.

“Fine! I’m sorry!” He spat, barely conscious of his words.

“For what?”

“F-Festus.” He said quietly.

“What was that, honey?” She teased, twisting one of his nipples.

“Please don’t make me talk about another man when I’m fucking you…” Coriolanus whimpered. “Undo the belt, Darling, we can—“

“Too late. What are you sorry for?” She said, rolling her hips into his. “Tell me you’re sorry or there’s no chance I let you finish.”

“Festus!”

“Louder!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry about Festus. It was a mistake. PLEASE! Let me fucking cum!”

He wasn’t sorry at all. While he came into his wife, all Coriolanus could think about was how awfully good it felt to kill someone if it meant his wife would be on him like this.

—

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow

sorry if tags didn’t work! i tried!

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow #hunger games #coriolanus snow imagine #coryo snow #coriolanus x reader #the hunger games #coriolanus snow smut

[supercutszns]

bitter to the taste; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc + pairing: 5.5k, luke castellan x f!reader

synopsis: a sharp blade, a black eye, and (more than) two kisses.

warnings: this is even sluttier than the last one, language, sword fighting, sharp objects, blood/injuries, reader is still a horrible person and so is luke but he's also a loooser, making out, allusions/mentions of sex but no super explicit descriptions, kind of fluffy at the end

notes: i’m starting to hate this bc i think i’ve been staring at it too long sorry if this is not as good as pt.1 but i have plans for this series ok. also READER AND LUKE ARE NOT GOOD PEOPLE!!! THEIR RELATIONSHIP WILL NOT ALWAYS BE GOOD!!! THEY SUCK!! they are also not real but keep that in mind :) synopsis inspired by crush by ethel cain; designated song for this fic is unpunishable by ethel cain (i’ve got a whole chronological playlist for these freaks like it’s serious)

You’ve always had a taste for violence. And an equally powerful penchant for sloth. 

You prefer to watch the carnage, not participate. It satisfies something inside you that you know, if it wasn’t for your laziness, could cause something irrevocable. Who the hell has time for that?. You’d rather lie back and watch instead.

This flaw of yours is the only reason you haven’t stirred more trouble, you think. It’s the reason you never attend camp games or sparring lessons. Sometimes, when you do, a dark muscle flexes inside your heart to curl out of its slumber, forming a hunger you don’t have otherwise. The second it starts to pry you have to rear yourself back and tuck the monster in. Banish the need for something more.

You don’t want to feed it. You don’t know what happens if you do. So you let other people do the feeding for you.

Luke cuts through two dummy heads in one swoop. It’s fucking gorgeous. The moon reflects off his sword, a silver sheen casting his face when he’s in the right spot. His brows are set, eyes so dark they blend with the night. Every motion is ruthless. Satisfying. 

You don’t know how many times you’ve watched him like this. He called you out for it last night, but you’re sure he doesn’t know the half of it. The shadows are a sacred cloak to you, and you wait inside them until you want your presence known. 

Meet me tomorrow. 

It runs through your head like a broken record. You can still feel his breath on your lips and your neck is still tender—had to wear a sweater in the blazing heat to hide the marks. Since you were created you’ve accepted a universal truth about yourself: you don’t harbour affection for anyone or anything. There’s not a single thing you’ve felt drawn to or protective over but yourself. It’s solitary, yes, and lonely, yes, but that’s the way you’re supposed to be. 

But you think about last night. You think about the moments between the kisses and the rush. When he teased you against your ear. When his hand brushed a certain spot on your back and something much lighter fluttered inside of you. When you crawled into sleep and thought about him, those were the moments that struck you the strangest. 

His gaze pans over the treeline every once in a while, the anger diluted. Then it comes back twice as hard as he shreds another dummy to pieces. 

He’s waiting for you. Oh, this is rich! A better person would probably turn around and go spoon their offerings into the bonfire the second they understand what they’re doing is incredibly destructive. But who are we kidding? You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. 

So you take a step forward, slip out of the comfort of the dark, and the next time he looks to the treeline he knows you’re there. He can’t see you, but he knows. 

You wait. His strikes are less tenuous, much smoother. It almost makes you laugh. Some fucking showman he is. 

Eventually, he buries his blade in the dirt and wipes his brow. “Are you gonna come talk to me or are you gonna stare at me all night like an owl?”

You relish in the feeling of shedding the darkness, coming into the light of the moon. “Hi,” you say flatly, but there’s a tiny smile on his face when he sees you that almost puts you off. 

“Hello, rotten.” He tries to lean on the hilt of his sword but it isn’t quite tall enough so he stumbles. It’s so pathetic it almost makes you laugh. 

“Don’t call me that,” you grimace.

“Okay, back to heathen?”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Well, you don’t seem too happy when people call you by your name so pick your poison here.” 

You don’t say anything, your mouth set in a scowl. “All right, both it is,” Luke shrugs.

He’s different from last night. Less impatient. You hope it’s not because he thinks he has you now—he’s got another thing coming. “I almost thought you weren’t gonna come,” he says with a crooked grin, neither bashful nor ashamed. 

You’ve made your way closer to him, the soft grass turning to dusty earth. “Don’t know why I did,” you mutter crassly. 

Having abandoned his sword, Luke chuckles wryly. “Yes, you do.”

That bitterness he hides from everyone else pierces through. He tilts your face up like he did yesterday, the press of his fingers beneath your chin almost burning you. You know he’s peering at the marks on your neck. 

“If you made me come here just to hook up with me you’re delusional,” you glare. 

“What, like that’s not why you’re here?” He pushes your face up a little higher, grinning a little when you add resistance. “I’m a gentleman, you know. I can be patient.”

This guy is full of fucking shit.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you snipe. The only point of contact you have is his hand on your chin, but you’re a hair’s breadth away from having everything else. The air drifting between you is almost palpable, shrinking smaller and smaller like it’s terrified of being trapped between you.

He keeps your face still. He’s studying you, and you’re suddenly curious about what he sees. You remember all those looks you’d share at the dinner tables that made this happen in the first place. What did he see then? 

“You wanna fight?”

It takes you a second to react. “What?”

“You want to fight. Pick up a sword, let’s go.” He smiles as he finally lets you go, waltzing away from you to unbury his sword from the dirt. His touch permeates through your skin and you hate it. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I can’t fight.”

“Sure you can,” he replies, grabbing another sword from the training rack. “You need to burn off a little steam.”

You laugh sharply. “And you think me waving a sword around is gonna do that?”

“Uh, yeah,” he grins. “It’s the method that lets us keep the most clothes on.” 

You glare at him. His smirk is a mile wide. The way your stomach is simmering almost makes you sick; it’s like gorging yourself on candy except this time the candy has a sword and maybe wants to fuck you. 

You just watch as he hands you his sword, and the moonlight glinting off the metal has you believing it’s not the kind used for training. “I’ll use the dull one,” he assures. “C’mon, heathen. I know you’ve used a sword before, they force us to.”

“I usually skip those classes.”

He laughs. You can’t tell if it’s at you or with you. “Of course you do.”

You don’t like following orders, but oh, what the hell. Luke knows something about you, just like you know something about him. You’re only a little curious about it. 

“Straighten your back,” is the first thing he says once you’ve taken your stance across from him. The blunt of his sword reaches out to tap your hip. 

You begrudgingly do as you’re told. He watches you mirthfully, and the press of his sword against you starts to feel like a substitute for his hand. All the closeness you’re hungry for, dampened by cold steel. It still makes you buzz. 

He gives you the barebones—the right grip, how to maneuver, the proper balance. But long gone is his easy disposition. The motor inside him that powered all those dummy beheadings and disembowelments is running again, except this time it’s for you. He wants a fight. This is his battlefield. All right, you’ll bite.

You start to spar with the skill of an overgrown toddler. The sword feels like an unnatural ligament hanging off your body. Luke is precise, convicting, far more enthusiastic than you. “You can do better than that,” he prods after your swords clash lazily for the billionth time. “Stop going easy.”

“You’re going easy,” you shoot back. 

“Yeah, but I’d really rather not. Come on.” 

There’s a moment of hesitation. You think about that dark thing you keep harboured. A muscle aching to be used. 

“Come on,” he says again, and he almost sounds pissed. “All of a sudden you’re playing nice? What are you afraid of?”

Something flares inside you. “Nothing!”

“Then pick up the sword and fight me.”

You huff and roll your eyes, but your next swing is far more inspired. Luke blocks it easily, but you don’t care. “There we go,” he nods. “Again.”

This is more than you bargained for when you decided to come see him. All you want is to make out with this hot, awful person and have him tell you hot, awful things about yourself you probably already know. Why do you have to fight to get it? 

He keeps provoking you no matter how hard you try. Your temper picks up the more you swing, discordant clangs bruising the air, but it’s still not enough. Luke doesn’t let up. Of course the one time you try to be nice, you’re not allowed to. On second thought, why are you reigning yourself in for Luke? The only other person in camp with a real, consuming viciousness? If anything you should hit him twice as hard, since he’s so sure he can take it. 

“No wonder you’re so angry all the time,” Luke heaves out, and it gives you a swell of satisfaction. “You don’t have a proper outlet. Maybe you’d be nicer if you didn’t sit around and complain all day.”

“Shut up,” you gnash your teeth. 

“Just saying, maybe you should do something about it.”

You’re getting lost in the rhythm of the swords, the adrenaline, the sweat passing the scar on his cheek. Every swing you think less and less, and that dark muscle flexes more and more. It feels like home to you. Like a good meal. Your bones ache and the world has darkened, but that rotten pit inside you cracks open in full bloom. 

Luke keeps egging you on but you can’t hear him. Not like he still needs to. You think you’re smiling, or huffing furiously, or both. The sharpness of the sword intrigues you. A million terrible things reflect off its blade and you imagine them, all at once, until you are out of your body and the black hole inside you has properly wedged itself open. 

Luke jabs at you and you bring your sword down with a vengeance. But it’s a little too low. You only notice when he drops his weapon to the side and staggers back.

The fog of violence falters. It fades almost completely when he hisses long and hard, eyes screwed shut, and you see the tear in his shirt. In his skin. 

“Shit,” you say. “Fuck.”

You don’t sound sorry, you don’t think you are sorry, especially when he laughs. It’s a wheezy one through his teeth as you come up to him, but a laugh nonetheless. “Knew you were going easy,” he remarks through a wince. 

You ignore him, looking down at the injury. A  gash across his abdomen. It’s bleeding a little, but not enough for it to drip. You did that. Just looking at the blood, you feel the bitter taste of it in your mouth, the reward a temporary hunger for carnage brought you. This is why you don’t play camp games. 

“I’ve got thick skin. I’m fine,” Luke says casually. “I’ve got a medical kit under that tree over there in case I beat myself up too bad.” He’s no longer scrunched in pain, and you’ve got a feeling he’s telling the truth. So you go fetch the kit where he said it was. You need to wrap that slash. Not because you’re sorry for him, but because looking at it makes you angry. 

You kneel and pop the lid of the small tin kit, covered in dirt. It’s mostly gauze and bandages. Rubbing alcohol too. “Just give me the gauze, that’s all I need,” Luke gestures. 

“Shut the fuck up, I’m doing it myself.” You’ve already torn off some gauze, sitting all the way up on your knees. 

“Most people just say sorry.”

“You pushed me,” you spit back, surprisingly forceful. Luke’s smile drops. You take a deep breath, adjusting yourself to get eye level with the injury. “I told you I don’t fight.”

You’re not sure what makes Luke give in, but he doesn’t say a word as you lift the hem of his torn shirt and he holds it up. There’s no proud remark about your eyes lingering on his stomach, or the hesitation in your hands. You stare at the wound. It really is shallow. Your thumb presses at the skin around it and he winces. “My bad,” you mutter. 

As you sterilize the cut and wrap the gauze around his torso, you try not to let your fingertips cling to the warmth on his skin. You try not to notice the other scars littered there, most faded to the point they should be impossible to pick up even in the sun. It’s obvious he’s staring at you. Your neck is crawling with warmth. But you don’t engage, you just wrap the gauze a few times and do your best not to notice the rise and fall beneath his muscles as he breathes. Then you fasten things neatly and put everything away so you can get up. Any second. Come on. 

“Good?” You ask instead, exhaling. 

“Good,” he affirms. He slides a hand under your forearm and gets you up. It stays there once you’re standing. The night stills. 

“I’m guessing you’re adding ‘attempted killer’ to your list of horrible qualities,” you go on to break the silence.

He holds your gaze unyieldingly. “I’d consider that a pro, actually.” 

You are entirely fed up with this drawn out evening, but you can’t bring yourself to speed anything up any more than stepping closer so your chests brush. “I will give you one, though,” he continues, craning down to your ear. You smell his skin and it sends you back to the position you were in yesterday. 

He finally kisses your jaw, just once, then your neck. You shiver. “You’re too tense.” Another kiss behind your ear. It’s not enough. “Do you even know how to have fun?”

“I don’t want to have fun,” you reply bitterly. I just want to make out with you, asshat.

Luke’s breath frosts over your face when he chuckles, but before he can get any further away you catch his mouth with yours. Almost instinctively his arm winds around you to pull you in closer, your hand looping through his curls. It's a relief, knowing last night wasn't some freak accident. This does feel good, actually, and it can happen. Everything you felt yesterday is only more urgent now, hungrier, and you're pretty sure the way you kiss him gives that away.

He indulges you, squeezing the base of your hips as his other hand thumbs across the marks on your neck. This is so fucking embarassing—you think you whine when he bites down on your bottom lip. You’ve never needed something this bad, you’ve never needed anything. But you press yourself as close to him as you can manage and his hand runs lower, slips against your inner thighs, and it’s difficult to worry about anything else. 

Until he pulls away. Like a dick. 

He doesn’t go far, his forehead pressed to yours, but you feel like pulling out all his hair. It’s a muddling mix of frustration and longing you’re starting to associate with him. “Dude,” you groan, an inner coil only starting to unwind begrudgingly compressing. 

“Let’s go for a swim,” he says. The enthusiasm is almost alarming. Almost makes him look younger.

You’re homicidal. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes, heathen. Let’s go for a swim, come on.”

He’s rubbing circles on your thigh, which only makes you want to strangle him. “But I—I don’t have my bathing suit,” you string out. 

The smile gets more boyish. “Wow, whatever shall we do?”

It’s another challenge. Another dare. And he knows what you want, fucking jerk. You’re going to kill him. 

“Fine,” you grunt, and the second the words leave your lips you’re pulled to the lake. 

It’s a warm, sticky evening, only made worse with the sweat and the half-assed kissing, so the water doesn’t seem all that bad. Unfortunately, you don’t like giving into demands. So you stare ghoulishly at your fingernails as Luke tosses off his ripped shirt and his shorts so he can plunge into the lake. “Aren’t you going to at least come in?” He asks, but you don’t look at him. 

“I don’t like swimming,” you lie. 

“At least your feet. It’s nice, I swear!”

A splash, like smoke moving through wind chimes. You look up and Luke has completely submerged, popping his head up closer to the mouth of the dock. “Please,” he says with such conviction your resolve turns to butter. Gods, what is happening to you? You still need that lobotomy! 

You sigh, roll your eyes, turn your back to him. “Fuck this,” you mutter under your breath. You undress to your undergarments and you’re not sure if you want Luke to be watching or not. The moon touches your bare skin and a chill trickles through you. 

You take a seat at the edge of the dock, knees tucked to your chest. Luke swims over for you right away. His hair is dripping against his skin, and you hate how beautiful it looks. The waterline is high tonight, almost ridiculously so, so he props his elbows up on the dock with no problem. “Come in,” he urges. 

“No.”

“Just your legs?”

“No.”

“Gods, I’ll make it worth it, just throw your damn legs in!” 

Your eyebrows shoot up. His face is stubbornly pink. Oh, so now he wants something. You take your time uncurling yourself and Luke wades away from the dock so you can put your feet in. The water goes up to your calves, and you shiver. “So fucking difficult,” he mutters, and your pulse flickers. 

“Sorry, what was that?” You let yourself grin for the first time all night. 

“Nothing,” he hums. This time when he comes to the dock, he wraps his hands around your calves. You’re pretty sure he can stand here because he stops treading. The warmth of the water seems to spread further, long past the threshold of your knees. 

He rests his chin just above your knee, water pooling on your skin. “Stop dripping on me,” you complain. 

“Sorry.” He fake pouts when he kisses the damp spot. You see, ever so faintly, a diabolic shift in his expression. He nudges your leg with the point of his nose, then kisses it, then starts to move it aside. “Feel bad about teasing you all night,” he murmurs, still with an edge. He presses more kisses on your legs. “I really did want to see you.”

The irony that he’s still teasing is not lost on you. You’re not loving how desperately warm you’re starting to feel. “Why’s that?” You lean back on your palms. 

“You’re a very interesting person,” he quips innocently. His hands are cupping the backs of your calves. He’s pulled you a lot closer to the water, and somehow you’ve just noticed. Another blistering kiss on the inside of your thigh. 

“You’re fucking evil,” you scathe. 

He looks up at you from between your legs. “You have literally done nothing but berate and injure me this whole evening.”

“Yeah, and right after I patch you up you jump in the water for shits. You’re playing infection roulette, Castellan.”

“See? You’re so mean.” He sighs, and in a move that almost surprises you to death, he hoists both your legs over his shoulders and they dangle into the river behind him. “And here I am anyway, making it up to you.”

You are suddenly illuminated on the purpose of this situation. Why Luke is between your legs. Your heart jolts. “Luke, you can’t be serious.” 

“Mmhm.” He leans forward to kiss right under your navel. 

You hate how much you want him to do it again, how your body burns, but you avert your eyes. “Someone’s gonna—someone’s gonna hear us.”

He snorts, “No they won’t. Either this or you come in the water with me. Or both. We’ll see.”

A huge smile cracks across your face before you push it back down. You’re going to spend a lot of time coming back to this moment, this night, wondering why. “What is wrong with you.”

It comes out like a compliment when it leaves you. You want to vanish. Luke chuckles, and something foreign to the both of you buzzes through the air. 

“Are you going to be nice?” He asks against your skin. 

“Are you going to be quick?”

His mouth finds your hip bones and yeah, why the hell would you say no to this? He nods, “Swear.” 

That’s all you need. You let your eyes slide shut and your head tilts towards the sky. Luke takes your permission and runs with it, pries you open with his mouth until the stars soak through the black of your eyelids. 

You discover pretty quickly neither of you are good at keeping promises. 

The next time you need Luke’s med kit, he’s already awake. 

It’s been happening more and more often. You lurking around camp past moonrise and finding Luke outside his cabin, going for a walk or a stretch or a … something with you. 

“Do you ever sleep?” You ask him sometimes between flurries of kisses with your back against a tree. 

“Could ask you the same thing, heathen,” he squeezes your hips and nips at your neck, but never answers the question. And neither do you, so you’re both okay with it. You’d hate to give up this feeling, but he doesn’t need to know that.

This is the first time in your punitive life you have felt alive. Like a person, with bones and flesh and soul, a real presence. Not a ghost of smoke and shadow. You are real. 

Fooling around makes you feel like an actual teenager. You’re young, you remember when Luke joins you in the dark. You’re having fun. His hands under your shirt and his mouth on your collarbone, the way he bites down and winces when you do something a little too well, when you string out his name and he rewards you for it. You’re both greedy, insatiable people, so there’s a push and pull only the two of you would ever be able to handle. And nobody has to know. Despite all the bruises, the sleepless nights, the swollen lips, all you and Luke share in the daylight are noxious looks, and that's only if he can find you. A perfect crime. Camp Half-Blood’s angel and the vice that lives in the shadows. But in the dark, it’s hard to tell which is which. 

“Luke,” you whisper. “Luke.”

“I’m up,” he grumbles, peering up at you. “You shouldn’t sneak into my cabin.” He was already sitting up in his bed when you slipped in, and he didn’t notice you were there till you were right in front of him.

“Worried someone will catch me? You should know better.” 

He follows you outside so you don’t wake the other campers. There’s a thrill knowing just one interaction between the two of you could ruin both your reputations forever. 

“What is it, heathen?” He asks as the door closes behind him. It’s so dark and your back is turned to him, but his voice is drenched in smugness. “You don’t usually want to put up with me more than once a night.”

“Don’t have a choice,” you mutter, staring out at the camp. You go to chew on your bottom lip, but you wince immediately. “Where’s your kit thingy? The one we used after I impaled you.” 

“You mean after you lightly grazed me?” 

“Just tell me where it is, Luke.”

Your sharpness could cut through any sleepy daze he possibly has. He’s silent behind you for a second. “Why?” He asks.

“Because I need it.”

His hand curls around your shoulder and before you can think to submerge yourself in darkness, he turns you around. When he sees you, his face breaks from something proud to something … you’re not sure you like. “Oh, heathen,” he murmurs. “What happened to you?”

You guess it’s a semi-appropriate reaction, although you expected at least a grimace. To put it lightly, your face looks gnarly as fuck. There’s a bruise on your cheekbone and your lip is split. But what really draws attention is the half-formed, garish black eye swelling up your right side. 

“Just the usual. Pissed someone off.” It hurts the skin on your lip that’s caked with blood. 

He rests his thumb on your unbruised cheek, but somehow it still stings. You know he can’t see much of you in the dark but he tries. The prolonged eye contact without the imminent promise of a kiss feels foreign. “You need to go to the Apollo cabin,” he concludes, brows pushed together. 

A laugh slips past your broken lips. “No fucking shot. They would not help me.”

“Why not?”

“Because one of their shit-eaters did this!”

The words take a moment to register. You see them filtering through Luke’s brain. He blinks absurdly. “An Apollo guy beat you up?”

“Not beat up. Just … tussled.”

“How much tussling earns you a black eye, exactly? From Apollo kids.”

“Gods, just tell me where your kit is so you can go back to fucking sleep.”

His fingertips inch around the back of your neck, thumb still against your face. “Already wasn’t sleeping. I might as well help you,” he shrugs. “I move the kit every once in a while so some other campers don’t ravage it.”

“I don’t need help.”

Luke opens his mouth, then sighs deeply. He takes a firm hold of your arm and starts to tug you along. “Hey, what—” you swat at his arm. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffs. “Come on.”

It’s strange. Luke’s never done you a favour before. At least not one like this. You’re disgruntled enough that you had to go ask him in the first place and now he’s dragging you around? “This isn’t such a big deal, Luke,” you badger. “I’m fine.”

“Sure, whatever. Wait right here.” He lets go of you and only then you realize you’re in front of the Apollo cabin. You grimace, and Luke must have noticed because he says, “Don’t worry, I’m just gonna go inside and grab some things. No one’s gonna jump you.”

You scowl at him, and he just laughs. A part of you hopes he hits his head on the way in. You hide anyway. 

It’s a few minutes of waiting in the oppressive summer heat, until Luke emerges from the cabin with his hands full. He looks around, hesitantly calling, “Heathen?” Then again. You move out of your hiding spot and he jogs over to greet you. 

“Nice haul,” you comment. There’s an ice pack, cotton pads, a few miscellaneous items. “How’d you get them?”

He smiles widely. “Everyone loves me, heathen. It’s not hard.”

“…So you stole them.”

“Yes, but only because I’m too tired to talk to people and I’m protesting for your sake,” he rattles off. “Now hold this ice pack before it gives me frostbite.”

The two of you make your way down to the docks again. It’s morphed into your usual meeting place, since the waves lapping at the shore mask when Luke gets a little too noisy just to piss you off. (At least that’s what he tells you.)

He’s stashed his little tin in a different tree this time. After he retrieves it he sets everything out like a chef preparing to make a meal out of gauze and rubbing alcohol. 

Your head has been throbbing for the past few hours. You’re not proud that you antagonized the wrong Apollo kid and got a shiner for it. You’re less proud that you came to Luke for help. Just like everyone else does.

“Come,” he gestures, tugging at the waistband of your pants. You scoot closer to him and swallow the weight of your pulse when he touches you. 

Luke slowly presses the ice pack to your black eye, letting you hold it. “What did you do to earn this, anyway?” He asks, head tilted to the side. 

You’re hissing because of the ice, half-consciously shifting into him. “The usual. Spat at him. Made fun of his daddy a little too much. Tripped him so he landed face-first in his offerings.”

“You did not,” Luke laments as he dots alcohol onto a cotton pad. 

“You’re allowed to say you’re proud of me, Saint Castellan. I won’t tell. You can be mean.” Your voice drips with irony, and you hope it bothers him. The flex in his jaw gives it away. 

“You’re always gonna be meaner,” is all he says back. “This is gonna hurt.”

It’s all the warning he gives before he presses the pad against your lip. The sting envelops you immediately, and your good eye squeezes shut. “Shit, ow!” 

“Stop moving your mouth.”

“Fuck,” you swear anyway. Your lip burns so hard you can feel it in your teeth. 

Luke holds your jaw with his other hand so you can’t shy away. “I’ll kiss it better,” he teases. “Almost done.”

You roll your eyes, but Luke takes the pad off a few moments later. “Serious question. How are you so awful to people all the time?”

A groan tears through your throat with such force your head tilts back. “Not you too! I don’t need a fucking reason, there is no reason. Why doesn’t anyone get that?” 

“I’m not asking why. I’m asking how.”

He’s oddly serious, the caress of his thumb on your cheek far slower. You hate it when people want a reason why you’re like this, just to help them sleep at night. But from the bags lining Luke’s eyes, sleep doesn’t seem to be on his radar. 

“I just don’t care,” you admit, shrugging. “I don’t care about any of them. I don’t care about what they can do to me. I don’t care about anything.”

“…What about the Gods?”

It makes you cock your head. “Huh?”

“You wouldn’t care about them, either?”

You think, but only about which words to use. “No,” you decide, “They don’t scare me. They’re nothing. What are they gonna do to me?”

Luke snorts, almost nervously. “Uh, punish you for saying that, for one.”

You turn back to him, ice pack leaving your eye as you gesture. “How? By killing me? Pecking out my eyeballs? Burning me alive? I’m telling you, I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. It’s all just nothing to me. I’m fucking unpunishable, I’d like to see them try.” 

Huffing, you look back up at the firmament of stars. Luke says nothing. 

The grass rustles as he shifts, and his mouth ghosts over the bruise on your eye. “Unpunishable,” he murmurs, like he’s testing it out. Then he places an uncharacteristically gentle kiss just beneath your eye. And another just above. “We’ll see about that.”

You get that feeling again, the unbearable lightness in a place it shouldn’t be. Mixed with the poison lodged in your heart. 

Luke kisses you, still so delicate that you wonder if he’s been body-snatched. If anything, your bleeding lip feels soothed against his. His hands cradle your face with no ferocity at all. It seems wrong. 

“How do you feel?” He asks after pulling away, dark eyes nebulous and wide. The night usually sharpens his features. Now, they’ve been hushed.

“Um, better,” you reply. 

He hums, laying a slow trail of kisses on your jaw. “Did you at least get the other guy?” He asks between kisses. “Like, did you hurt him?”

“Not really,” you divulge, wondering if you should feel shame. 

“Why?” He’s made his way to your neck now, nudging your jaw up so he can kiss behind your ear. 

“I’m not a fighter.” And, without warning, for a reason you will never, ever be able to explain, your tongue adds, “I’m a killer.”

Your own brows furrow. Luke pauses for a moment, but knocks his nose against your neck. “Guess one of us has to be.”

There’s no more fooling around. No snappy insults, no feverish kisses, no hunger to be satiated. Luke just checks you over a few more times, hides his med kit, and you both get up to sleep. But his hand wraps around your wrist, far less firm than when he dragged you here. “Stay in my bunk, heathen,” he offers. “Leave in the morning.”

You think you’re making a mistake when you agree, but it doesn’t feel like one. 

The next day, after you’ve left Luke’s bunk, rumours float around camp that Luke Castellan accidentally butted some Apollo kid in the face with his sword during training. Caused a bloody, broken nose. Luke was very sorry, apologized profusely. 

But you know, by the way he takes you behind the stables that night, that he didn’t mean a single damn word.

luke taglist: @sunniskyies @apollos-calliope @lillycore @sunny747 @m00ng4z3r @pabkeh @thaliagracesgf @theadventuresofanartist @bonnie-tz

rotten taglist: @thaliagracesgf

leave a pm/comment/ask if you'd like to be added to a taglist :)

#perrie’s fics #rotten to the touch #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan smut #luke castellan pjo #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #charlie bushnell #pjo x reader #luke castellan fic

[angelanderson]

Please do more dom Abby hcs

dom!abby headcannons pt 2

MINORS DNI! part one. 18+ under the cut + bonus fluff. i <3 dom!abby!!!!!! these are so much fun to write :) kinda edited.

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱──────────

♡ dom!abby who loves to dress you up. she chooses your outfits on the weekly dates she takes you on. she’ll even surprise you with matches sets to take off of you when she inevitably has you spread out for her afterwards.

♡ dom!abby frequently redos your hair as part of your aftercare. she keeps ribbon, your favorite hair products, and extra hair ties in her bathroom just for that purpose. she’s even started matching her outfits to your ribbon choices.

♡ dom!abby can always tell when you’re uncomfortable. when she can tell you want to leave somewhere, she’ll make up a lie about how needing to go, just so you’re not embarrassed. she values your comfort and safety above all else!

♡ dom!abby will have you suck her strap off anytime you get too mouthy with her. she knows you know she doesn’t put up with bratty girls! if she’s working, she’ll make you suck her off under her big, expensive oak desk.

♡ dom!abby owns a few different strap-ons. her favorite is her ejaculating one. she swears she can feel how tight you are with each thrust of her strap. she also loves the purple one that doesn’t fill you up the way you like when she wants to tease you. and don’t forgot her vibrating one! you two frequently use it to see how many times you can cum on her strap.

♡ soft!dom abby still fawns over you while she’s punishing you. “keep counting, okay? gonna make you feel so good afterwards” and “doing so good. my brave girl, i love you”, as she’s spanking you for not listening all day.

♡ mean!dom abby makes you work for it, unlike when she’s in a softer mood. mean!dom abby definitely doesn’t put up with your attitude after she’s asked you twice. “nu-uh, you don’t get to cry your way out of this one. if you want to act like a bad girl, i’m going to treat you like one.” and if you try to fight back, she’s just going to deny another orgasm.

♡ dom!abby definitely uses the way she’s bigger and stronger than you to her advantage. she’ll easily manhandle you when you’re acting too bratty, hold you down while she overstimulates you, and pin you against the wall just to make you feel deliciously helpless against her.

♡ dom!abby makes you beg to eat her out. she also wants it, of course, but she loves to see her pretty girl squirm for her. her favorite way is to have you eating her out while you’re on your knees. and if you get bruises, she’ll kiss them on her way up to eating you out.

♡ dom!abby likes to see how long you can ride her before you’re pathetically whining about how tired you are, how much you love her, how much you need her to do it. “just need my help, hmm? my sweet girl can’t even get off without my help.” you’re too blissed out to know she’s mocking you.

♡ dom!abby is the kind of girlfriend (or wife) to leave you little notes around the house about how much she loves you. she frequently gives you flowers just because “pretty girls deserve pretty flowers”. if you’re having a bad day, she’s going to cook your favorite dinner and hold you extra close all night. and when you demand to bake her some sweet treats in return, she can’t refuse. “i love you” is the first thing she says to you in the morning and at night. she adores you!

#🧸 ur requests #💌 mail 💌💘 #abby anderson fic #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson smut #tlou smut #dom!abby #abby anderson headcanons #abby anderson x fem reader

[lust4lore]

(finnick + cockwarming pretty please i’ll give you my firstborn child)

anon, i’m in love with you. take all of the forehead kisses. all of them. (btw, call me when that child is born!)

A/N: originally, this was gonna be something where reader and finnick are at a party and it’s kind of public, he’s a little meaner, but i think voyeurism as well as denying his girl anything she wants is a little ooc for him so i chose this instead. i still have the outline of the og, though, so if you’d be interested in reading that and are willing to excuse it lmk!

CW: cockwarming— mind you, fluffy cockwarming, because it’s finn!

MDNI, not proofread i cba 😔🫶

finnick odair would do anything for you. shit, he’s braved hell and back twice just for the chance to catch a glimpse of you again. you’re his world, the love of his life, and the last thing he wants is to see you upset.

which is why, when you entered your shared bedroom with a quivering bottom lip and glistening eyes, he dropped everything immediately.

“hey, hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he had asked gently, brows pinching together as concern started seeping in. he beckoned you over to where he sat with open arms, and you gladly went. he pulled you onto his lap, warm hands cupping your face as he searched your eyes for any indication of what the problem could be. “talk to me,” he murmured, anxiety forming a pit in his stomach when you didn’t give him an immediate response.

it had been a long day. all the noise, all the people, all the feelings had gotten to you, and you just needed finnick. needed to turn off your brain in the way only he could. “jus’ had a busy day, too much going on and-” you sniffed, looking up into those sea green eyes and feeling a distant pang of guilt at the panic that was rising in them. “i need you, finn,”

realization flickered across his features and his lips parted before he pressed them together again, his gaze shifting from worried to conflicted. finnick never found it easy to deny you anything— and this wasn’t even something he wanted to say no to— but he had deadlines to fulfill, things that he couldn’t put off any longer. you knew that, you did, but you really were aching for whatever piece of him you could get.

and so, you end up here, still sat in his lap as he slowly presses into you, a quiet whine falling from your lips at the stretch. your face buries itself into his neck, hands bracing his shoulders. “finn,” your voice comes out strained and desperate, just above a whisper as you sink down onto him. “m’right here, sugar, i got you,” his hands rest on your hips, lightly squeezing them in encouragement. you continue to whimper as you take the rest of him, adjusting to the size. “i know, honey, i know,” he soothes, one of his hands coming up from your hips to rub your back.

a few minutes in, you’re a bit more mollified. your thoughts come to a slow, sticky pace, and suddenly, nothing seems so loud anymore. all that’s left in your head is finnick finnick finnick and the comfortable weight of him inside of you. “this what you needed, pretty girl? feel better?” his voice is low against your ear and you give a small nod, because yes, it’s exactly what you needed, but your words are kind of failing you at the moment.

you stay like that for god knows how long, his arm wrapped around your waist as he continues to work, your forehead resting on his shoulder. eventually, though, you shift a little, and it’s just enough to cause his cock to graze that sweet spot inside of you. his muscles tense underneath you as you tighten around him and he makes a sound in between a sigh and a groan, picking you up as though you weigh nothing. “what’re you doing?” you ask, your voice soft and dazed as he sets you down on the bed, hands slipping underneath your shirt and roaming further up as he starts trailing kisses down your neck. “taking care of my girl,” he tells you, and, well,

you’ll have to start having bad days more often.

#𓇼 indigo writes! #𓇼 blurburburb #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick x reader #the hunger games #finnick odair headcanons #finnick odair smut #finnick imagine #thg finnick

[oopsdevil]

COD + Tropes

which trope do they fall into when it comes to you.

SIMON GHOST RILEY + FWB TO LOVERS

i have said it before but simon really struggles when it comes to relationships.

he insisted that this was a casual thing but soon realized that's not true. from the way his heart beats faster when you rarely cuddle, to his trouble sleeping wondering if maybe you were with some other bloke. his insecurities got the best of him and he would end up saying something mean out of jealousy. when he saw you took offense to it he decided in four seconds that he was not gonna lose you. he confessed his feelings (in a sentence or two) and since then he has no problem with everyone knowing you are his.

KYLE GAZ GARRICK + THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY

kyle was always a romantic. outspoken, proud romantic. you guys probably met in high school and just fell in love. you both knew you were it for each other but everyone kept insisting it was just a first love kind of thing. it was not.

circumstances brought kyle into the army and leaving you was the hardest of it all. you both also decided staying together was just gonna be painful so you broke up.

a couple years later kyle came home and got his life together as an adult. after seeing the reality of bills, rent, taxes and just life, he realized maybe he doesn't wanna do it at all without you. a call and a few tears is all it took for admitting you are still each others soulmates.

JOHN SOAP MACTAVISH + FAKE DATING

look at me in the eyes and tell me this is not HIS trope. it was simply meant to be. maybe he saw you in a bar and some guy was being too insisting for his liking, maybe johnny got sick of his family asking about a future wedding or maybe gaz told you guys you couldn't pull it off and you took the bet. doesn't matter, but it happened.

after months of intense eye contact across the room, flushed faces when realizing you were holding hands but there was no one around and holding you by your hips for group pictures, johnny felt his stomach turn when you mentioned something about going on a date with some other soldier for real.

next thing you knew he was kissing you against a bathroom door. really kissing you, not like those pecks for the public that always left you wanting more. in breathless sentences you both decided to be together like you always wanted (probably in a quick to be continued kinda way so you could keep kissing)

KÖNIG + SLOW BURN

it took him years. years.

from the moment he saw you in base he was thankful his hood could hide his red face when he developed a crush in about 15 seconds. he was also very surprised when you just talked to him.

könig kept you as a friend for years and himself busy with missions, it wasn't until you were thinking about transferring when he decided you wouldn't do it. you can't just go, right?

the only condition to staying was a very long conversation with him, where you admitted being in love with him for the longest time, and thinking maybe he felt the same way. but after that many years you needed to have him now, or just try to move on.

i don't think könig ever felt that relived. he mumbled something in german, suddenly ripping his hood off and kinda tackled you to the bed in a hug. you laughed and decided yeah, this is gonna work.

JOHN PRICE + FORCED PROXIMITY/ SECRET RELATIONSHIP

having a new secretary in his office was the last thing john needed.

he was sure it was about the fact that it was someone new in his personal space, someone who knew nothing about his routine.

it obviously had nothing to do with the fact that he looked at you longer than he looked at papers. or about your accent being so distracting to him that you had to say most things twice.

being trapped in an elevator with him was the last thing you needed.

again, its about the fact that you have so many things to do for your impatient boss (not about his cologne being intoxicating and his shoulders looking a little too big right now)

neither of you knew how it happened, but it did. and you were sure he pressed you against every inch of the elevators walls while kissing you like a mad man.

the truth is everyone else on the team knew the reason why you drove each other crazy, and john was more than grateful when the person who opened the elevator doors and saw the state of you was simon.

after fixing your clothes and an awkward apologize to simon, you talked about it.

having a secret relationship with him didn't last long, this man likes to move fast. but after the elevator incident, you were more than okay with that.

#cod hcs #cod mw2 #cod mwii #task force 141 #cod x reader #cod #ghost x reader #konig #konig x reader #johnny mactavish #john price x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #john price #könig x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley

[ooffmlsorry]

OP Men Dating a "Girly Girl"

A/N: sorry this took so long and I haven't posted anything original in a minute my life is mess and I'm so very tired jfc...I know this isn't more than my usual group but I was just gonna stop at Luffy and then decided to add Ace and Sabo as a thank you because writing these and putting them on Tumblr has been really good for me, so thank you for always being here to indulge me 🥲 ❤️

Sanji, Zoro, Law, Luffy, Ace, Sabo

Sanji

Let's be honest, girly-girls drive Sanji craaaazzzzyy (not that all women don't, but he's definitely more partial to the feminine ones) Your make-up, pretty skirts and dresses, jewelry, and manicure, he can't help fawn over you constantly 😍Although you do it because you enjoy it, it's nice that your efforts are so appreciated!!

He spoils you soooo baaaddd!! He literally can't help himself when he sees something pretty or cute that reminds him of you, he has to get it for you. You're drowning in squishmallows at this point.

A river of blood shoots from him every time you show off a new outfit. You're going to kill him and he'll thank you for it.

Dressing up in nice outfits together, especially on date night, is a shared activity that you love to do together. Y'all are living your best happily ever after lives.

Ya'll definitely have scheduled self-care nights. You put on some slow music, open a bottle of wine, draw a bubble bath, all that.

He's utterly useless when it comes to helping you pick your outfits or makeup if you're stuck because he loves you in everything, it's too hard for him to pick. You're his perfect, beautiful Y/N-swaaaaan 😍💖💖✨

He does love to see you in pink or red though so he might default to those colors

Don't try to test your makeup on him lol, you're going to re-awaken the gender identity crisis...I mean Kamabakka trauma

Listen...I'm not saying Sanji has a mommy kink...I'm not even at Whole Cake Island so idk wtf is going on there. All I'm saying is if you give this man a bath, wrap him in a towel to dry him off, and rub him down with luxurious lotions and oils, you might awaken something...that's all...👀

ZORO

He has no clue wtf you're doing. If it weren't for the fact that there's no proof that witches exist in this world, he'd think you are one

He looks at your vanity full of serums, creams, scrubs, lotions, etc, not to mention the makeup and he's like "??????" Just completely baffled

But what do you expect? This man would use that five-in-one Irish Spring soap if he could.

Just because he doesn't understand it doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate and admire the fact that you have extensive knowledge in something he can't even comprehend

He knows you like nice shiny things, and again, while he doesn't get it, he does think it's really, really cute when you go starry-eyed over a necklace or an outfit in a store.

In the same vein, he knows how much you love cute things and animals. He has absolutely found a cute animal in the jungle, picked it up, and brought it to you just to show you because he knew you'd love it.

Sometimes in his own gruff way he'll agree with you that it's pretty cute. Thank you for helping this manly man admit things are cute and that's okay.

Other times, he's the one making sure you don't get distracted because it's so cute

Unfortunately and fortunately, you're pretty to him no matter what you do to yourself so it's all kind of a moot point to him.

You can try to ask him about which 'x' to wear, sometimes it's helpful because he'll throw out a really practical answer and then other times he's like "How 'bout you just go naked" 😏.

He'll wear a face mask with you like...twice a year. And he's going to bitch and moan about it but he does it because he loves you. The entire process is like trying to give a cat a bath "WHY IS IT SO COLD? THIS STAYS ON MY FACE FOR HOW LONG???"

Exfoliate this man at your own risk...I'm dead serious that water is going to be brown

LAW

I need you to know right now this man will let you paint his nails!!! I mean, not like gel or acrylics or anything, but he'll let you paint them any color as long as it's a dark shade of that color. You once designed Bepo on his middle fingers. He did in fact flip people off a lot more often when he had them.

Let's you wear a pastel boiler suit because you he loves you and wants to see you happy

Much like Zoro, he's got no clue what you're doing. He'll stand back and watch you while making the exact same face as the gif above.

He thinks he's being stealthy peaking around a corner to watch your morning or night routine, but you quickly catch on. Please please pleeaaassee ask him if he has any questions because he does. He's just really curious why you're doing what you're doing and what it does. It's basically skin medicine and he's really fascinated.

Knowing that you like shiny things makes his life admittedly a little easier, it's not that he doesn't think of what to gift you, he puts A LOT of thought into what he gives you, but knowing that earrings, necklaces, and bracelets always make you happy is great just in case of analysis paralysis or he forgets. Sorry.

Also you wearing the jewelry he gets you does something to him, especially a necklace he can pull on a little, mmhhm you're making this man struggle with impure thoughts.

You both love cute things, it's something y'all connect on. It's really good that you help him access that very neglected inner child of his and encourage him to coo and fawn over adorable animals with zero reservation.

He'll do skincare with you too when he's not super busy. He can admit it's kind of nice to sit in bed with a book, glass of wine, and a face mask and just bask for a minute

He acts like he hates when you rub serums across his face and use a derma roller on him but he loves it

Law doesn't really pay attention to your clothes, but when you really go all out he breaks out in a sweat and he can't keep his eyes off you.

LUFFY

I'm not saying he thinks it's stupid, it just...why have an hours long care routine when you could be going on adventure with him??? 😭😭😭

He will help you pick out your makeup but don't expect it to look good. You're gonna end up with neon orange eyeshadow and green lipstick. Like literally every "My Boyfriend Does My Makeup" youtube video.

Plays around with your stuff but that's because he has no idea what all these strange contraptions are. The moment you try to explain his eyes glaze over and next thing you know he's whisking you away to go do something more fun.

He likes the shiny bright stuff (highlighter), makeup probably is the only part he even remotely engages in because it's

Explain how contour works to this man and watch him lose his fucking mind, he thinks you're a shape shifter now (honestly this applies to all of them except Law and maybe Sanji)

He never notices what you wear, Nami is gonna have smack him on the back of the head to get him to realize you put on something fancy

Luffy points out everything, it just so happens that things he points out sometime happen to be cute animals

Hides in all the stuffed animals and squishmallows in your room to surprise attack hug you

*throws mud at you* "Is this the kind of mud you like, Y/N??" He really means well though.

You know those hair masks with all natural ingredients like honey and banana? Yeah, he's gonna start sucking on your hair like spaghetti...I'm so sorry.

He'll bathe with you but that's because he wants to be close to you, it's definitely not about being pampered or relaxing.

Try to put a face mask on him or something else and it'll just become a game of tag around the Sunny. You can't catch him and he's having a great time outrunning and outwitting you.

He knows this is all important to you so even though he doesn't get it he'd never make fun of you for it and the moment someone calls you "extra," he's kicking their ass.

ACE

Maybe all the glam is a little silly to him but that just makes you extra cute!

He will also absolutely let you paint his nails. Hell, he'll let you do a full beat on him just for fun and he'll wear it for the whole day because he's so unserious lol

...As long as he gets to do your makeup after...Much like Luffy you're gonna be covered in neon colors that don't even remotely match, but you guys have a great time lol

Admittedly likes to be pampered by you when he gets back from a long mission.

Please take a bubble bath with this man, it's not like the water is ever going to get cold!

I'm pretty sure you'd legitimately lead to Ace taking better care of himself. Got this man out here talking about his cuticles and shit lol

Honestly, it's really good for him because self care leads to self love and Ace needs a lot of help with that.

He tells Pops about all the stuff you do 1.) because he loves you and 2.) he hopes some of it will help Whitebeard heal a little, god bless him 😢

All of your hardwork doesn't go unnoticed, he legitimately gets kind of misty eyed when you really dress up because he's so so so lucky. He swears he doesn't deserve you.

He always brings back some kind of gift even whether it's a cute plushie or something exotic to wear from all of his long travels

I need to stress how much this means to him, everyone of these things is like a little proposal because he already knows you're it. Every little gift is leading up to a ring from this man.

He's also just genuinely impressed by the skill it takes to do your makeup so well, especially after he tries doing it on you

Much like his little brother unfortunately, he does play with all the little contraptions in your vanity, especially in the beginning because have you seen an eyelash curler? He's so confused lol

SABO

Sabo and Ace truly are his brothers because he really don't get all the effort lol

Admittedly, a lot of that is because he thinks you're so hot already what's the point???

Once he gets this is just how you are he's less confused, he's probably the most normal out everyone. He lets you do your thing, although he's really curious how you managed to always look amazing while being in the fucking revolutionary army!!?? Where are you getting the time???

If someone were to intrude on y'all on a free afternoon you're both in fluffy robes with face masks on and Sabo loves to pretend to act like a bitch when he's in selfcare mode with you lol

"Are you seriously bothering us right now, ugh! I can't even right now!!" And then you both break out in laughter

He really thinks you should teach others how to contour and do makeup because it has great applications for disguises and infiltration.

And brags about your skills to everyone

Wonders how many of your makeup supplies could actively be used as a weapon *eye roll* jfc Sabo

There's a part of you that secretly worries all your boujieness will remind him of his blood relatives, but he assures you that it doesn't because you have a good heart and he never doubts that

Besides, being a little extra with him helps him associate those things he used to associate with his blood relatives with you instead so it's even better

He spoils you so bad, but with a Sabo-flair, ie. stealing from shitty people and bringing it back to you because you're oh so more deserving of nice things let's be honest

He gets jealous of the cute animals that you squeal over hehehe, please hug him when he starts pouting

He'll always wear a little pink just for you ❤️

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x reader headcanon #luffy x reader #law x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #ace x reader #sabo x reader