#(HEART SHAPED FLAIL)

[your-fave-is-being-blended]

Blend Sweetheart from Omori plspls (sorry if it's already been done)

SWEETHEART from OMORI is being blended!!

You cannot save her.

[orderforbrian]

@jonmartinweek day 6 - eldritch powers | caretaking day 7 - ten years later | martin's poetry

10 years later - after surviving an apocalypse and what could be considered death, healing as an act of rebirth - martin still pulls the bullshit "lonely hands" move 😶‍🌫️

[Start ID: Two drawings of Jon and Martin from The Magnus Archives in blue hues. Jon is a average sized Persian man with curly hair tied back into a messy bun and multiple scars. He has a thick mustache and lighter beard, with streaks of grey in his facial hair and eyebrows, and wears rectangular glasses and a large sweater. Martin is a fat mixed Polish/Korean man with shaggy hair pulled back into a headband, several beauty marks on his skin, and a patchy mustache (beard not visible). There are streaks of gray in his eyebrows. He wears browline glasses and a simple t-shirt. Both Jon and Martin have matching bands on their left ring fingers. 1st image: Jon stands at a counter watching a mug of tea, an arrow points stating "waiting for tea to steep". Steam from the mug flows to the side and Jon wonders, "Did I leave a window open?" as the temperature presumably drops. In the steam cloud, Martin appears behind Jon in a fog-like state, reaching a vaguely shaped hand out. 2nd image: Martin grabs Jon (punctuated by GRAB with a heart), shoving one hand into his sweater collar and the other underneath his sweater. He smirks, singing, "Cold hands!". Streaks of fog trail behind him. Jon shouts at the sudden cold, "M-MARTIN!! You're freezing!", and shivers all over, one hand gripping Martin's arm and the other flailing beside him. Hair can be seen where his stomach and upper chest is exposed. End ID.]

[brunchable]

THIS, is your boyfriend, Mom? [4]

Pairings: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Our savage wittle boi Lucas x f!Reader.

Summary: The family went on a camping trip with Lucas' cousins. Warning: Lucas fell into a river but is unharmed.

A/N: I will just keep posting Step-Dad Bucky content, this doesn't really have set plot, just cute and funny moments while Bucky navigates how to be a Dad. ALSO, note I am still trying to fix the tag list for this.

The stars had just begun to shine as you, Bucky, Lucas, and a few of his cousins sat around the campfire, laughter filling the air as the kids toasted marshmallows and dared each other to make the strangest marshmallow combinations.

After a while, Lucas and his cousin wandered over to you, their faces lit with excitement. “Mom, can we go skip rocks by the river?” Lucas asked.

You nodded, giving them a warm but serious smile. “Alright, but don’t go too close to the water. Stay safe.”

They nodded, promising to be careful, and you watched as they bounded off toward the riverbank, their giggles mixing with the sound of the flowing water. Bucky was sitting next to you, his gaze steady on the kids as they skipped stones, trying to beat each other’s number of skips.

Everything seemed peaceful.

But after a few minutes, you overheard Lucas’s cousin daring him. “Bet you can’t skip one from way up close,” his cousin said, pointing to a spot near the edge of the water, where the bank was muddy and slippery.

Lucas hesitated, glancing back at you and Bucky, then shrugged, puffing his chest out a little. “It’s not even that deep. I’ll be fine.”

In that split second, he took a bold step closer, right to the edge, and threw his rock. But as he shifted his weight forward, the muddy bank gave way, and he slipped, his arms flailing as he tried to keep his balance—only to tumble forward into the icy water.

“Mom! Help!” Lucas screamed, panic overtaking his voice as the river’s current tried to pull him in.

His cousin tried to reach him, stretching out his arm, but the water was too strong, and Lucas was quickly losing his footing.

In that moment, Lucas looked up, his breath catching as he saw a figure racing toward him with unwavering speed and determination. Recognizing Bucky’s shape, he reached out instinctively, the word spilling out in sheer desperation.

“Dad!”

Before you could take a step, Bucky had already shot up, sprinting to the river with a look of pure terror etched across his face. Reaching the boys in seconds, he gently but firmly shoved Lucas’s cousin back toward you, his voice low and firm. “Get to your mom. Now.”

“Lucas!” you screamed, your heart pounding.

Without a second thought, Bucky stepped into the river, his boots sinking into the cold, swirling water as it tugged insistently at his legs, urging him to stay back. But he moved forward, steady and sure, his eyes fixed on Lucas as if the world held nothing else. The river pressed against him, but he barely noticed, reaching Lucas in a few strides, wrapping a solid arm under the boy’s shoulders, and lifting him up with a fierce certainty. Holding Lucas close, Bucky turned and waded back to shore, his grip firm, his gaze steady, as if he were carrying something infinitely precious.

As soon as they were safely on dry ground, Bucky knelt down, gripping Lucas’s shoulders tightly, his jaw clenched, his eyes blazing with anger and fear.

“What were you thinking, Lucas?” he snapped, his voice sharp and unwavering. “Didn’t your mother tell you not to go near the edge? Do you understand what could have happened if you’d fallen in deeper?”

Lucas glanced up at Bucky, then looked over at you. The sight of you standing there, tears streaming down your face, struck him like a punch to the chest. His mother, the person he always wanted to keep happy and safe, was crying because of him.

Lucas looked down, his face pale, but tried to stammer out a response. “I-I… I didn’t think it’d be that slippery…”

Bucky’s hands tightened on his shoulders, and his voice grew louder, thick with emotion. “Exactly. You didn’t think! What if the current had pulled you in? What if you’d been swept away before I got there? What if… what if you had gotten hurt or worse?” Bucky’s voice wavered, but his tone stayed stern. “This isn’t a game, boy. You could’ve been lost to that river in an instant.”

Lucas’s cousin, standing nearby, shifted nervously, his face turning pale as he realized the seriousness of the situation. Bucky’s sharp gaze flicked toward him, his tone still unrelenting.

“And you,” he said, his voice just as firm as before. “Why would you dare him to go closer? Do you understand how dangerous that was?”

Lucas’s cousin looked down, guilt spreading across his face as he mumbled, “I’m sorry, Bucky… I didn’t think anything bad would happen. I just… thought it’d be fun.”

Bucky’s expression didn’t soften as he spoke, his tone filled with disappointment. 

“Fun? What if he’d fallen in and the current was too strong? What if I hadn’t been here in time? You don’t push someone to take a risk like that, especially near the water. You’re supposed to look out for each other, not encourage recklessness.”

The weight of Bucky’s words began to settle over both boys like a heavy blanket. The “what ifs” replayed in their minds, each one sinking deeper, and they both suddenly felt small and helpless under Bucky’s fierce gaze.

Lucas’s voice shook as he whispered, “I… I’m sorry, Bucky. I didn’t mean to make you and Mom worry. I just wanted to see if I could do it…”

“Wanting to prove yourself doesn’t matter if you’re putting yourself in danger. Bravery doesn’t mean being reckless, Lucas. Do you understand that?” Bucky’s stern expression didn’t waver as he looked down at Lucas, still gripped by the terror of almost losing him.

Lucas’s shoulders slumped as the weight of his mistake settled over him like an unwelcome shadow. Tears spilled down his cheeks, and his voice broke in a whisper, “I’m really, really sorry, Bucky. I didn’t mean for it to be this bad… I just didn’t think.”

Bucky’s expression shifted, his face softening as he caught the guilt in Lucas’s tear-filled eyes. He let out a quiet, unsteady breath, the last of his anger dissolving like smoke. He pulled the boy into a fierce hug, an instinct older than words, holding him close as if, in that one embrace, he could keep the world and all its dangers at bay.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” Lucas’s voice was muffled against Bucky’s chest, his small hands gripping Bucky’s shirt like it was his only tether to safety.

Bucky’s arms tightened around him, one hand moving up to cradle the back of Lucas’s head. “I know, kid. I know you didn’t mean it.” His voice was soft but steady, filled with something deeper than mere forgiveness.

He stroked Lucas’s back in slow, reassuring circles, feeling each shaky breath. “You scared me, you know? Really scared me.” The words were simple but carried a weight only Lucas could feel, pressing gently on his small shoulders.

Then, Bucky pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, brushing a tear from Lucas’s cheek with his thumb. “Listen. You don’t need to prove anything. You’re already enough, just as you are. And I need you here with me. Promise me you’ll remember that.”

Lucas nodded, a fierce, wide-eyed sincerity in his gaze. “I promise.”

Bucky’s lips curled into a small, warm smile, and he ruffled Lucas’s hair gently, his voice barely above a whisper. “Good. That’s my boy.”

There was a pause, a quiet weight to the moment. Then, Bucky gave Lucas’s shoulder a soft squeeze, his tone light but carrying an unmistakable note of resolve. 

“Now,” he murmured, a hint of mischief flickering in his eyes, “go apologize to your mom and get yourself cleaned up. You’ve given her enough to worry about for one day.”

× × × ×

The campfire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over the clearing as the night deepened. The kids were finally asleep in their own tent, their quiet breaths rising and falling in a rhythm of exhaustion and dreams. You stayed by the fire, arms wrapped around yourself, lost in thought as you watched the flames dance.

Bucky came up behind you, draping a blanket over your shoulders and pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. You smiled up at him, warmth spreading through you beyond the blanket.

“Thank you,” you murmured, reaching for his hand. “For what you did for Lucas today.”

Bucky shook his head, brushing it off. “It’s nothing,” he said softly, settling down beside you. But as he looked into the fire, a quiet chuckle escaped him, his eyes crinkling with a mix of disbelief and something almost… tender.

You turned to him, curiosity in your gaze. “What are you thinking about?”

He glanced at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, his eyes still reflecting the firelight. “He called me ‘Dad,’” he said, voice soft with wonder.

You nodded, your own smile widening. “He did.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as he leaned back. “Think that’s going to cost me the dad fee?”

You laughed, a warm sound that felt like it belonged to the night. Bucky grinned, clearly pleased to lighten the mood, and his hand found yours as the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the fire crackling as the stars watched over.

After a moment, Bucky’s gaze softened, and he leaned in, closing the space between you with a look of pure adoration. His hand cradled your face as his lips brushed against yours, warm and lingering.

Just as you melted into the kiss, a small voice pierced the quiet.

“Oh, wow. Seriously? Now?”

You and Bucky broke apart to find Lucas standing outside his tent, hands on his hips and an exaggerated look of exasperation on his face. “Guys, it’s, like, bedtime. Some of us are trying to sleep here without… that in our minds.”

You stifled a laugh, and Bucky sighed, glancing at the sky as if asking for patience. “What do you need, kid?”

Lucas rolled his eyes dramatically. “Well, I was going to the bathroom, but now I’m scarred for life. So thanks for that,” he added with a smirk, gesturing toward the trees. “I’ll be back—try to keep it PG, alright?”

With that, he turned and shuffled off, muttering loud enough for you to hear, “Can’t believe I had to see that.”

When he was out of earshot, Bucky shook his head, chuckling softly. “That kid…”

You bit back a grin, leaning into him with a sigh. “So, where were we?”

Bucky pulled you close, a smirk on his lips. “Somewhere between dad fees and permanent interruptions, I think.”

× × × × 

Back home a few days later.

It was a quiet evening, and Bucky had been waiting for the right moment, nerves humming beneath his calm exterior. Lucas was sprawled out on the living room floor, building a small LEGO fortress, completely focused. Bucky took a deep breath, gathering himself, and then sat down next to Lucas, watching him for a moment before speaking.

“Hey, bud,” Bucky said softly, ruffling Lucas’s hair.

Lucas looked up, his face lighting up. “Hey, Bucky! Want to help me with the fortress? It’s almost done.”

Bucky chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe in a sec, kiddo. I actually wanted to talk to you about something… something important.”

“Okay… what’s up?” Lucas tilted his head, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

Bucky took a deep breath, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement.

“So… I’ve been thinking about your mom,” he began, his voice gentle. “She means everything to me, Lucas. You know that, right?”

Lucas nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. “Yeah, I know. She loves you, too.”

Bucky swallowed, his heart pounding a little harder as he reached out, resting a hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “Well, I was wondering… how would you feel if I asked her to marry me?”

Lucas’s eyes went wide, his mouth falling open in surprise. He looked down, taking it in, before glancing back up at Bucky with a raised eyebrow.

“You mean… you’d be my dad?” he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of sass. “Like, officially? You’re not just trying to get a tax break or something, right?”

Bucky laughed, the tension easing out of him a bit. “No, not for a tax break, kid. I genuinely want to be there for you and your mom. I want us to be a family.”

Lucas stared at him for a long moment, his face scrunched up in thought. Then, with a small, knowing smirk, he said, “So… you’re asking me for permission? Wow, you must really like us.”

Bucky chuckled, ruffling Lucas’s hair again. 

“Yeah, I am. It’s important to me that you’re okay with this. You’re the most important person in her life, and if we’re gonna be a family… I want you to know that you’re part of this decision.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, like he’d just been struck by the weight of Lucas’s words. For a moment, he could only stare, his heart swelling with an unexpected, overwhelming sense of joy. He felt a lump form in his throat, and before he could say anything, he pulled Lucas into a tight hug, holding him close.

Lucas’s face softened, and after a brief pause, he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck in a tight hug. 

"You don't have to ask," Lucas whispered, his sass melting to something sincere, "I already know you're my dad."

As he closed his eyes, a tear slipped down his cheek, but he didn’t care. “Thank you, Lucky,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “That means more than you know.”

When they finally pulled back, Lucas wiped his eyes, his grin returning with a mischievous edge. “But… you still have to do it right. Like, you know, get down on one knee and everything. And maybe a big sign that says, ‘Will you marry me?’ in case you mess up your words.”

Bucky laughed, nodding. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m going all out. Your mom deserves the best.”

Lucas nodded, looking proud. “Good. She does. And you better not make her cry… unless they’re the good kind of tears. Otherwise, I’ll have to come after you.”

Bucky chuckled. “Only happy tears, kiddo. I promise.”

Lucas gave him a firm nod, his eyes sparkling. “Good then it’s settled. Now, are you going to help me finish this fortress, or are you too busy planning your big proposal?”

Bucky grinned, feeling the last of his nerves slip away as he settled beside Lucas, picking up a LEGO piece. 

“Alright, kiddo, let’s finish this fortress. Gotta make sure it’s strong enough to withstand all the big plans I’m about to set in motion.”

Lucas gave a mock-serious nod. “Good idea. Wouldn’t want you bailing on me halfway through.”

Bucky chuckled, nudging him gently. “Hey, I’m in this for the long haul. Fortress-building included.”

They both settled back down to work, side by side, focused on finishing the fortress together, each piece clicking into place as easily as their bond had over time.

[azsazz]

Shut Out

Hockey!Azriel x Figure Skater!Reader

Summary: Req from @i-am-a-lost-girl16: Hockey Az and Figure Skater reader?

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1,493

Notes: See? I still write 😏

_________________________________________

“Hey! I still have the ice for another fifteen minutes,” you shout at the hockey players that are suddenly stampeding through the gate to the ice rink like animals.

You cut to a harsh stop, ice shavings spraying in your wake as you cross your arms over your chest and glare at the Velaris Bats hockey team gliding easily across the ice rink where you were just practicing your figure skating routine. Normally, you’d be ogling the broad players in their onyx and violet practice jerseys, already splitting into teams for a scrimmage as they ignore the fiery look on your face, but with only a few more weeks until nationals, you need every minute on the ice that you can get.

“Sorry, Princess,” Cassian “Bloodshed” Bailey says, flipping a puck onto the tip of his stick as he skates past, tossing it up and catching it again a few times as if it’s a display that should impress you. Right now, none of their tricks or flirtatious teases are doing anything of the sort. “Gotta big game against the Wolves this weekend. Coach wants us on extra ice time so we’re in tip-top shape.”

“I’m pretty sure when he said extra ice time, he didn’t mean to interrupt my ice time,” you growl at him, but he’s already distracted, bobbing the puck back and forth as he approaches the net. The sound of his stick on the ice echoes throughout the arena as he takes a slap shot.

You refrain from smiling smugly when the goalie stops his shot with a triumphant cackle.

You stubbornly want to stay on the ice, take up the time you’re allowed to practice your routine, but with all the pucks zipping around, it could be detrimental to your health if you were to trip or—Mother forbid—land on one as you come out of an axel.

Eyes flitting angrily around the colony of Bat’s players, you scour the ice for the team captain, Rhysand. The thing is, all dressed up in their pads and helmets, the players are a blur of clones, whipping by you on both sides as they warm up.

There’s always one player that never fails to stand out to you, no matter how much he tries to disappear from the crowd. He catches your eye as he skates by, the fallen strands of hair from your ponytail lifting with the speed that he’s moving, taking a puck down the ice as a breakaway ensues.

He dodges you easily, and your heart races in your chest at the fleeting glance he passes you. His hazel eyes have a hard, determined set to them, as if he knows before he’s even finished crossing the neutral line that he’s going to score a goal.

Azriel Teller.

He dips around the defensemen effortlessly, and if you were more well-versed in hockey to know if he was actually as good as he seems, you’d be sure that he’s a shoo-in for going to the big leagues after graduation.

Azriel feigns to the right, deking out the player in the violet practice jersey, before placing a well-aimed shot at the net.

It soars past the goalie, hitting the net and falling to the ice with a clatter that’s deafened by his teammates cheering and skating his way to clang their helmets together in celebration.

From the middle of the player puddle, those glittering hazel eyes find yours again and your breath whooshes from your chest at the smirk he pairs with it.

“(Y/N?) What are you still doing out here?” A voice startles you away from the glorious sight of Azriel. You flinch, teetering off balance as you whirl around, flailing your arms as you startle.

Rhysand catches you as you slip, steadying you against his chest. The sound of his hockey stick slapping the ice is loud in your ears and your cheeks heat with embarrassment as you clutch to the captain of the Velaris Bats jersey with an iron grip.

You were nearly born on the ice, your parents getting you into skating at a very early age, and here you are, tripping around like a newborn deer walking for the first time.

All in front of Azriel, too.

When you have your feet beneath you again, you slide back a pace, the frown returning to your face as you tilt your chin to address Rhysand.

“Your team cut into my time early,” you say sourly, but standing this close to Rhysand, you can’t seem to find that fire in the pit of your stomach that raged when the team first stepped onto the ice. The goal Azriel all but dedicated to you with that look snuffed it right out. “I don’t appreciate you guys barging in here on my time, thinking you own the damn place. I have nationals to practice for, you know.”

Rhysand grimaces in response. He’s someone you might even consider a friend, having run into the hockey boys on multiple occasions, the figure skaters and the hockey teams having to share one rink now that the other one is finally being updated with the generous donation the school received. He’s nice, a good team captain, if you’ve ever seen one, caring not only about his players, but the circumstances everyone at the Velaris Ice Center is facing with recent construction.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says, and he means it. “I was in a call with coach and wasn’t able to stop Cassian from leading the charge out here.”

“This is the second time it’s happened in two weeks, Rhys.” You all but huff. You don’t want to act like the prissy figure skater they probably all think you are, but enough is enough. Winning Nationals is important to you, and you can’t become distracted by hockey players or lose any ice time.

Rhysand opens his mouth to reply but before he can say anything, Azriel is whizzing past, shoulder checking his captain as if the consequences of that don’t bother him in the slightest.

You gasp as Rhys recoils, even more so when you see the cross look on Azriel’s face when he shoots a warning glower over his shoulder.

Rhys glares, flipping his friend off, and you have to tuck your lips between your teeth to keep from bursting into laughter at the sight of his gloved fingers thick with padding flipping Azriel off.

Rolling his eyes, the captain turns back to you.

“What was that all about?” You ask tentatively, not sure you want to know the answer. Your eyes are still on Azriel who’s hopped over the fence into the team’s bench and is currently squirting some water into his mouth. It drips down his chin, gliding down the thick column of his throat and into the neckline of his pads.

The sight makes your throat dry.

“I’ll try better,” Rhysand says, hands on his hips as he looks around the rink. His perfectly plucked brows are furrowed as he thinks, and you can’t help but wonder if he gets them professionally done or not. “Hey, assholes,” he suddenly shouts, and you flinch when his voice echoes around the arena. “Get on the benches, now!”

You swallow the lump that’s forming in your throat as the team follows their captains’ orders with grumbles. They don’t seem to want whatever lecture they think they’re going to get from Rhysand, but he ignores their grousing, turning back to you when the last ass has hit the bench.

“You have fifteen minutes, (Y/N),” Rhys says, skating backwards towards the bench.  When your jaw drops, his grin turns wicked.

He wants you to finish practicing right now? While the entire team watches? Is he fucking crazy?

“You can’t be serious,” you shriek, almost stomping your skate-clad foot on the ice. Yes, you’re used to performing in front of a crowd even larger than the team, but these guys are like fiends. Half of them glower at you while the other half is looking at you like they want to fool around on center ice.

“Totally am,” Rhysand shouts back, and you’re pretty sure your cheeks are hot enough to melt the ice beneath your skates. “C’mon now, you’re wasting precious practice time for the both of us!”

“Fuck you,” you grumble, but he’s right, you do want your time back. Preferably without a horde of horny college hockey players watching you, but you’ll take what you can get this time.

Skating over to where your phone is placed on the rail of the away team benches, you restart your song with a few beats of silence before so you can get into your starting position back in the middle of the rink.

When the first string of the violins starts, you’re off, determined now more than ever at getting this routine perfect.

You’re all too aware of the hazel eyes tracing your every move as you skate, though.

[maddyguru]

tw: dark content, gang r*pe, AU where Gojo joins Geto to destroy the world after Riko so he massacred the village with him, loss of virginity, degradation, no remorse, wump reader bc i love suffering, reader getting bruises bc of them, MINORS DNI

it was a game of cat and mouse and they really enjoyed it. watching you run around the house in terror and crying as you go; it makes its all fun for them. the two strongest sorcerers do not worry about getting you or not because they know they will get you.

"i got you, kitty." gojo cruelly whispered into your ears, grinning as he did while staring at his best friend. from your behind, he hugged you closer to his chest.

even when you begged them to stop, but they completely ignored you- it dawned on you that they're raping you when your older brother suguru pushed your legs apart and his friend is holding your hands together above your head. you had kicked, screamed, plead, but all of those things did not work in your favour. you were held captive in your own family home. your panties were ripped downwards, dangling around your thighs, almost touching the floor afterwards. Through your cries, there you see, your older brother is taking off his school pants.

"you just couldn't wait, bro?" satoru cackled, and with no hesitation, a sharp pain was settling into your lower belly, shooting to your spine and your whole body. your lips turned into an o shape to scream, but nothing came out as the pain is almost blinding to you, but the two men can see how your hands were clenching and unclenching, your legs flailed together as your brother fucks into you deeper, and the way he smiled when he saw droplets of blood on his thick cock made you sobbed.

"Hard to believe my pretty girl is a virgin." he says, layer hissing once he stuff you full with his meat.

"Was, Suguru." satoru replied, which made you cry harder at the fact.

it went for hours, you were raped in your own family home. you saw your parents bodies near you and all you want was mama to come and save you and hold you- tell you its ok and everything will be fine but instead, you're assaulted by God knows why. You hardly talk to niichan and you don't know why he's hurting you. It made your heart sad when you thought about Suguru as your loving oniichan but no longer that person as his hips connecting with yours again and again.

"Stop.... oniichan.."

"no..."

"oniichan, it hurts..."

"my stomach hurts..."

Even after you plead, it did not stop him from passing you to Satoru. as soon as he came, satoru were eager to have you later on. He fucked you rougher than your brother did, going as far as bruising you on the arms and making sure you bleed from his teeth biting into your flesh ; you cried for your brother to help, and and you cried for your brother's friend to stop, but it remains the same- you were raped again and again.

"please just stop.... it hurts all over..." for the hundredth time, you plead.

A/N: I have left the writing world for quite a while since work is so hectic but I think it will be ok a little when i start my new office job. I've quit retail, and will start a new job soon so I'm excited about it! I will try harder to update my works and drop some short drabbles like this to keep the writing going on. Oh, and thank you for 1k followers ❤️ please continue to send me thirst asks longer the better ahha. more geto and gojo gang r*pe please 👀

[osachiyo]

USING THE SAFEWORD - gojo , geto , toji , nanami

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ c/w. . . n/sft content (mdni), fem!reader, choking, overstimulation, hair pulling, spanking, rough sex, hurt + comfort, use of the safeword, oral (f + m receiving), reader is unable to use safeword in some of these, these men are so soft for you please don't be too mad at em :(

disclaimer ! safe words and boundaries are very crucial when having intercourse. never ever ever feel shy to use your safeword because it literally is there for your safety.

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹ note. . . I've been wanting to write something like this for a while <3 lmk if y'all want a bsd version next :D as always, happy reading and hope y'all enjoy !

Satoru

You felt dizzy─ so fucking dizzy as Satoru's fingers tightened around your neck. You tried to let him know by slapping his forearms, clawing at them─ doing anything to get him to loosen his grin but to your fear, he was too deep in the pleasure of your sweet cunt gave him. His free hand only pinned your hands above your head─ grumbling something about you to "keep still 'n let me fuck you right".

This was getting bad─ black spots started to appear in your vision, tears gathering in your lashline as you flailed and kicked your legs─ desperate to tell him you don't want this anymore. The continous thrusts of his hips made you sick to your stomach─ fuck, were you gonna pass out? fortunately for you, as if the heavens had heard your aching pleas, Satoru's grip loosened a tad─ just enough for you to gurgle out your safeword. It took satoru a full few seconds to register what flew out of your mouth─ quickly getting off of you, his still hardened cock pulling out of your cunt. His brows were pinched as a worried frown graced his shiny lips, "babe─"

That's when he realized the tears pouring out of your eyes weren't because of pleasure─ but pain. He reached a hand out to you but that only made you flinch away, your eyes widening in fear and for a split moment, he felt his heart stop. Fuck, what did he just do?

Satoru's own eyes were open wide, hands balling into tight fists as he watched you sniffle and shiver, small hiccups leaving your swollen lips. "Fuck I─ baby, I'm so sorry, I just─" he thought about what to say next─ that he lost control? That he never meant to hurt you? He swallowed hard, pretty eyes glossed over from worry and pure guilt.

You sniffled before laying on your back, lifting your arms to make grabby hands at satoru who only let out a breath of relief, gently cradling your face in his palms as he sputtered apologies after apologies to you─ hands shaky as he pulled you to his chest and muttered soft "I love you's" and "I'm so sorry's" into your hair, soft lips pressing gentle but reassuring kisses on the top of your head he holds you against his chest.

After a few moments, the snow haired man finally found it in himself to speak, "what happened, baby? Did I go too hard?" His voice was barely above a whisper. You nuzzled your face further into his chest─ tears smudging on his skin as you shook your head, "jus' couldn't breathe," you peaked up at him, and his frown deepened, heart clenching as he stared at your glassy eyes. " 'm so sorry, sweet girl— does it hurt?" He rubbed little shapes into the bare skin of your back, lips pressing gentle kisses on your temple. You finally smiled, shaking your head again— "no, jus' a little bit sore. Think there'll be marks though."

Satoru let out a breath of relief at that, shoulders burying his face into your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo. "That's good— don't want my pretty girl to be in pain." You hummed in response, staying like that for a while— basking in the comforting silence until you spoke up again.

"Toru?"

"Hm?"

"Let me choke you instead."

Suguru

You've been like this for god knows how long— spread across your shared bed, knees to your chest and with Suguru between your legs, making out with your cunt.

"Holy fuck— this pussy is so fuckin' perfect f'me, isn't she?" He growls— talking as if your pussy was a living being. You only moaned in response, trying to buck your hips up to meet his mouth, only to receive a harsh slap on your clit from Suguru. He 'tsked', running his clean hand through his raven locks before glaring at you, "stop—" smack! "movin'—" smack! "s'much—" smack! "whore—" smack! Each word was punctuated by a harsh slap to your pussy. You squealed with each hit— poor cunt burning from the brutal treatment your boyfriend was giving you.

He went back to using his tongue, but something was wrong— it didn't feel good anymore, only pain. Hours of overstimulation mixing with the pain of his harsh hits only made it sting and burn.

"Sugu! h-hurts— no more!" You babbled, but he couldn't hear you— too busy eating your pussy which basically had him in a trance, leaving you with no choice but to whimper out your safeword.

It took him a couple of seconds to register before he paused— blinking up at you before apologies after apologies left his mouth, checking to see if you were hurt anywhere before you calmed him down by placing a hand on his chest, " 'm not hurt, Sugu— jus'.. too much," you panted, letting him pick you up and place you on his lap— " 'm so sorry, princess. Didn't mean too go too far," there was genuine regret in his voice, the bottom half of his face still soaked with your juices. You reached a palm to wipe off the liquid from his chin before grinning up at him— he only kissed your cheek in return.

"You forgive me?" He pulled away to look at you, a small pout adorning his thin lips. You only kissed his nose in response, earning a chuckle from him, "I'll take that as a yes then."

You two stayed like that for a couple minutes— just in each other's arms as Suguru started humming a random song, the gentle tone of his soothing voice slowly lulled you to sleep, not before you heard a faint, "I love you so much, angel," accompanied by a soft kiss on your shoulder.

Toji

"Oh, fuuck— yeah, fuckin' slut— takin' me s'well in that tight lil' throat, heh," Toji growled, hips bucking up into your face as you gagged and choked around his unbelievably fat cock. Tears and snot were dripping down your face— ruining the picture perfect makeup you had worked so hard for, mascara running down your swollen cheeks in inky streaks, lipstick smudged all over your lips and even staining your boyfriend's length in rings.

Seriously, though. Did you really expect him to be gentle with you after prancing around in that tiny little dress the whole evening? You should be grateful he didn't bend you over the dinner table and fuck you in front of your friends and co-workers.

He basically shoved you down to your knees once you arrived back home— slapping the leaky tip of his flushed cock against your face a couple times before stuffing it into your poor throat and here you were— getting used by Toji Fushiguro like his personal flleshlight as you went light headed from being deprived of breathing for so long. It seems as if he had forgotten you were human and needed to breathe— the tightness of your throat basically making his mind go blank.

You tried to scratch, claw and slap his thighs— which only made him fuck your face with more vigor, not realizing those were signs telling him to stop.

A sloppy mixture of your drool and his precum dripped down your chin in stringy webs, making a mess on the polished floor beneath you as he yanked you by the makeshift ponytail he made— pulling you off his cock with a wet "pop!", giving you the chance to gurgle out your safeword breathlessly. Toji's eyes visibly widened, slowly letting your hair go before kneeling in front of you, gently patting your back as you coughed and heaved— trying to get air back in your poor lungs.

"Too much?" His voice was gravelly, as he wiped the sweat off your face, helping you back up to your feet. You could only nod in response, his brows pinching as tears kept rolling down your face. Gently sitting you down on the couch before he walked away to get you some water.

You immediately relaxed feeling the cool water hit your throat, soothing the bruising throb of pain your boyfriend's cock had given you.

He placed the glass away before sitting next to you, wordlessly wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you to his lap.

"Sorry I went too far, ma', wan' me to make it up to ya?" He whispered into the softness of your hair, gigantic hands playing with your much smaller ones as you leaned into him.

"Mhm, can you or—" "Order Chinese? Got'cha," he cut you off, pulling his phone out from his pocket. You smiled, snuggling further into him, "and cuddles." Rolling his eyes, he hummed, "Anything my princess wants."

Kento

"Slap!"

The deafening noise cut through the heavy tension in the room, your ass burning from the sting of Kento's harsh palm cracking down on the soft fat— "t-twenty f-four!"

He hummed, voice deep as his rough palm smoothed over the battered skin of your ass, spreading your cheeks to peak at your sopping cunt— the vibrator set on it's highest setting, but he knew better than to let you cum. Right as you were about to release all over the sheets— the vibrations of the small pink toy suddenly stopped, cruelly ripping your orgasm away from your grasp. A pitiful sob left your lips, legs thrashing around— "no! W-why, please— p-please let me cum, Ken—" Another brutal slap to your bruised ass cut you off, a low growl leaving Kento's lips as he smacked you again and again— your wails egging him on further— "fucking count."

The safeword left your lips before you could even think— hiccups and sobs escaping your throat. Your husband stopped immediately upon hearing the magic word— snapping out of his daze and rushing to your side. "Are you okay, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?" His voice was laced with worry, his heart ached in regret as he watched you sniffle, curling to yourself.

"Fuck, love— I'm so sorry I—" He quickly undid your restraints and took the vibrator out of you, tossing it aside before grabbing a glass of water and handing it to you. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Does it hurt too much?"

You shook your head, to his relief, and took the glass of water from him— muttering a small "thanks."

After you had fully calmed down, he also applied some ointment on your sore bottom, being as gentle as possible not to hurt you.

He also ate you out later— to make up for all the edging, Small apologies were leaving his lips the entire time as he made out with your cunt— calling you his good girl, placing a gentle kiss on your clit after you reached your peak.

note. im sorry if this sucks ass ya'll, i had this sitting in my drafts for a while and just had to get it out :(

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated ♡

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Simon loves being Price's demonstration dummy. He loves the aftermath even more.

cw: sexual content, a horny lieutenant, body worship, oral sex, anal sex.

"Start by securin' a grip on yer opponent's arm with one hand, and use the other hand t' grab their collar or shoulder. Carrier vest works well too."

Simon stood at his captain's side, his body relaxed as he prepared to go airborne in the name of practical demonstration. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't his favourite part of the week... well, that and what always followed.

He watched Price from beneath low lashes, drawing deep, slow breaths through the fabric of his mask, if only to keep his bloody heart from thumping through the wall of his chest in excitement. Price's hands warm and firm against his body even through the cotton of his shirt, and his skin tingled in their wake.

"Step t' the side and lower yer hips while bringin' yer opponent close to ya," Price said, his attention on the new recruits gathered around the mat. Simon didn't resist as his captain drew him close, but he did breathe him in; sweat, deodorant and cologne, a deep musk that gathered at the back of Simon's throat, made his mouth water. Simon wanted to shove his nose into his ruffled hair, underneath his arm, across the ruff of his chest, for that scent to soak through to his bones.

"Yer shoulder should be positioned under their armpit. As ya pull yer opponent forward an' down, rotate yer hips and shoulders into them. Use yer legs t' lift an' drive yer shoulder into their body. Big fuckers like this? You gotta use their weight," Price moved and Simon's feet left the floor, "against 'em."

Simon's back hit the mat, punching a grunt from his chest, and he felt the familiar thrill unfurl down his spine as Price's body crowded over him. He studied the dark v-shape of sweat in the front of his shirt, the glisten of wet up his throat that disappeared into the scruffy stubble of his beard. Fuck, Simon wanted to lick it off him.

"As yer man's thrown, maintain yer grip t' control his fall and prepare for a transition into a dominant position or submission. Grapple, choke. Don't pause t' catch yer breath," he explained, half sprawled over Simon's body, his thick chest pressed to Simon's, so close that Simon felt the vibrations of his voice against him. "Any questions?" There weren't any. "Good. Pair up. Technique over strength."

The squaddies grabbed a buddy and headed to the other mats, and Price looked down at his junior officer's face. "You bulkin'?"

"Yeah."

"Thought so. Had to put some welly behind that one," Price said, lopsided grin making Simon want to shove his tongue down his throat. Those blue eyes framed in scruff and laughter lines, the curves beneath his sloped collarbones, the effortless way he had thrown Simon's sizable bulk to the floor, his form perfect, the explosive power in his body exercised with trained precision; everything about him made Simon feral.

The captain rolled to his feet and Simon grabbed the arm he offered down. "Take the four over there. Positioning like that's gonna lead to somethin' tearin'."

"Rog."

Simon wandered over to correct the indicated trainees and Price observed another set. This latest batch were promising, but they were almost skittish in their desperation for approval. More likely to make mistakes and second guess themselves. They needed to relax into it, listen to their instinct over the noise in their head. Simon decided to break the ice with the next demonstration.

It was a simple manoeuvre that tended to be a whole lot of fun to finish the session; the ranger roll. Quick and snappy way to pluck someone from the field and leg it under fire. Price was a pro at it. Simon upped the difficulty by latching onto a nearby bench, locking his legs so that Price flailed on his back halfway through the roll, splayed over Simon's belly with an arm hooked under his knee.

"What the fu--?" Price glanced up, saw Simon's ploy and elbowed him in the gut in retaliation, smirking. "Ya bloody muppet." The recruits laughed, their stances noticeably relaxing as Simon shrugged apologetically. Ice broken. Price rolled to his feet and performed the move again. This time, he lifted Simon from the floor, and Simon draped over his shoulders with a soft, satisfied hum. Fuckin hell, he needed Price on his back, needed those strong thighs around his hips, needed to hear that gruff voice sex-rough, fucked raw.

Simon suffered through another twenty minutes of watching others perform pale imitations of Price, before the captain finally dismissed them to the showers, heading out of the gym to his room.

Simon stayed long enough to ensure no one lingered by the dumb bell rack before swapping out of his boxers and shorts to a pair of grey joggers; he wanted as little between him and his prize as possible. Hands shaking, he knocked at Price's door after pursuing him down the corridors, shouldering his way inside only when Price greeted him from behind it. "Feelin' impatient, Simon?"

Simon watched as Price stripped off, revealing damp curls of chest hair, the sweat-slick curves and slopes of his body, still pumped from exercise, thick and flushed. His mane of brown scruff was ruffled out of place, sticking up in all directions, begging for fingers to grab it, to tug until he was forced to show his throat.

Simon's cock thickened in his joggers, pressing out against the soft grey material, and he folded his mask up above his nose in anticipation. Price chucked his t-shirt onto the floor, standing there in his shorts and nothing else, built like a fuckin greek hero and begging to be defiled, blue eyes dark. "C'mon then, boy. Come get it."

Simon didn't need telling twice. He growled low in his chest and surged forward, barreling Price into his bed, his mouth pressing to his throat as he ground his hip forward between Price's thighs. "Mmf, fuck, yeah," Price moaned, fingernails snagging in Simon's t-shirt as he bucked eagerly.

Price arched, his body begging for worship even if his voice stayed stoic, understated. For now. Simon buried a hand in his hair and pulled his head back, sucking and laving biting kisses down the arch of his throat to his chest, mouthing thick muscle with desperate, wet licks, before sucking a nipple into his mouth with a grateful moan. Price tasted like heaven, raw masculinity and power, and Simon wanted to overwhelm him, overcome the strength roiling beneath his skin, possess it and feel it wrapped around his prick until it yielded to him.

Mine, mine, his mind chanted, his nose burying in Price's armpit as he forced one of Price's arms above his head. Simon ran the flat of his tongue into the groove of it, tip flicking over the veins in his bicep before he sucked kisses into that flesh too. Price gasped, a low, raspy sound deep in his throat, his erection pressing up into Simon's belly, and Simon sank off the edge of the bed as he worked lower.

There was a layer of plush on Price's abdomen and Simon nipped at it, tonguing the trail of hair that disappeared below the waistband of his shorts, before wrenching those down too. Price's full cock bounced free, the slit wet with precum, but Simon ignored it to bury his face in the dark curls around his sac, inhaling the deep musk of him with a feral, half-wild growl.

"Filthy git," Price said through a throaty laugh, only to dissolve in a low moan as Simon sucked, wet and open mouthed, at his balls, teeth threatening tender skin in a way that made Price's cock twitch and throb with arousal. Simon didn't leave him waiting too long, swallowing the thick bulb of his glans to the back of his throat, tongue writhing and wriggling beneath his shaft. Price arched, strong fingers scrunching at Simon's mask and then dropping to grip the blonde tufts that escaped the back of it.

Simon let him fuck up into his mouth, his arms curling around his thighs to pull them apart, Price's heels nudging the backs of his shoulders. It was erotic, the way Price's body moved in search of pleasure, even splayed and vulnerable. His command didn't falter. "Nnh, Simon, fuck, fuck... Yer mouth's a bloody treat, sweet'eart."

Simon growled and pulled off, leaving strings of saliva and cum to trail down his chin to the tip of Price's cock as he stared up the naked length of him to the mischievous blue eyes watching him. Price knew what he was doing. Knew how he was baiting Simon to fuck him until his legs didn't work and his throat was raw from the moaning. Simon's cock ached, the brush of soft fleece enough to make him rut forward against the mattress in search of pleasure. "C'mon, Simon. Fuck me," Price snarled, strong thighs testing Simon's grip on them.

Simon surged up his body to smash their mouths together, teeth catching chapped lips, the taste of copper between them as he snatched the bottle of lube from where Price had chucked it in full anticipation of the railing he was about to receive. Simon squirmed out of his joggers, thick cock rutting into the sweat and spit slick skin of Price's hip, fisting the bed sheets with one hand as he gathered enough self control to tilt to the side and soak his cock in lube. A messy fist smoothed the gel down to the base before gathering Price's legs up his torso, his tip pushing into the snug grip of Price's hole.

"Mmf, fuck, slow, slow... Fuckin hells," Price snarled, nails biting into the side of Simon's neck as Simon quivered under the strain of self control. He rolled his hips in short, measured thrusts, easing in slowly, hunching down to kiss the grimace of concentration off of Price's face.

Simon was a decent length, nothing to sniff at, but it was the girth that truly satisfied, left people wrecked. It had taken previous lovers time to work up to and even Price, practiced and experienced, huffed deep breaths as his body yielded to it. "God bloody fuck, mm..." Price cussed, pushing his head back as he rocked up to meet Simon's hips, sliding himself up and down the full length of him. "Yeah, tha's it, right... Ah, right there, Simon, fuckin... Ah."

He was fucking beautiful like this. Beautiful. There weren't a word that fitted better. Blue eyes misty, his head thrown back, the flush of pleasure down his neck, splashed across his furred chest. His legs spread wide and wanton as Simon's fat cock sank into his greedy hole. Simon wanted to look, but he also wanted to taste, his teeth scraping through the scruff of Price's beard on their way to his neck. The pace was sweet torture, the pleasure curling up his spine, his balls pulled tight, sinking in all the way to the hilt, hoping Price'd be able to feel him in his guts if he thrust deep enough.

"G'wan, fuck me proper, boy," Price rasped, rewarded almost immediately with a firm thrust that startled a yelp out of him. It was all the encouragement Simon needed, gathering Price's legs to his shoulders as he began to piston his hips at a relentless pace, fucking hard and fast into the warm, wet clutch of Price's body.

Simon loved making Price loud, his bitten off cusses peppered with lower moans, gasps that almost bled into whines when Simon found the right angle. It was a complete and utter fracture of his iron control, and Simon revelled in it. His own noises ran away with him; snarls, growls, Price's name, his title, sir. The dizzying pleasure unspooled through him from head to toe, the day's tension burning out of his muscles with every pant of exertion, Price's body milking his cock with the most delicious friction.

Price didn't touch himself. He never did at first. He liked being fucked; liked the way a thick cock felt as it spread him open and pounded his prostate, his hands fisting the bed sheets as he met each thrust, demanding. When Simon shifted onto his feet, curving Price's hips up until he was fucking down into him like an animal mounting a mate, deeper, harder, than before, Price finally fisted his cock in search of his building release.

Simon lost track of anything but the heat of Price's hole, the pulsing clutch of it around his prick, the increasingly desperate noises each of his thrusts punched out of Price's chest. His orgasm curled up his spine, pulling taut in his muscles, his balls high and tight as he held off until the end he desired.

Price's hand stuttered and then he was spilling, thick ropes of cum splashed over his chest and neck, his impressive cock throbbing and flicking in the circle of his fingers as he teased himself through the aftershocks. Simon went to pull out, but Price snarled, "Don't you... fuckin dare. "

It flicked a switch in Simon's head, cut the final thread of a chord that had kept him tethered, and he began to rut like the animal he was. The wet slap of his hips grew louder as he chased his high, Price's groans broken around the pain-pleasure of overstimulation, his hole more lax post orgasm, relaxed, sloppy with lube and precum, the noise of Simon's cock fucking into it as obscene as his command to be bred full that punched out in the next breath. "Fuckin... breed me, Simon."

Simon came with a bitten off shout, grinding down into Price 's body as his balls emptied in hot, heavy pulses. Price moaned, pressing up into Simon's hips, rocking slowly as Simon's stuttering thrusts ended with him staying as deep as he could until his cock had stopped twitching, brimming Price with a week's worth of frustrated build up.

"Fuckin hell," Simon rasped, slumping down onto his elbow as he drew out, satisfied by the wetness that covered Price's thighs in the aftermath, and the puffy redness of his fucked out hole.

"Hope they do," Price murmured, shaking legs dropping off the edge of the bed. Simon slumped onto his back, and Price rolled onto his side, following him. "You broken?"

"Nah. Fuckin knackered."

Price barked a laugh. "Simon 'One Nut Wonder' Riley."

"Fuck off," Simon blustered through a laugh of his own. "Aren't you meant to be gettin' a limp dick at your age anyway?"

"Watch it," Price shot back, but without heat. He patted around blindly for his cigarettes and lighter, striking one up between his lips. He took a toke before passing it across to Simon, who puffed smoke at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"Surprised maintenance haven't beasted you for that smoke alarm yet."

"They'd have to catch me first."

"Wiley bastard."

Price smirked as Simon passed the cigarette back, smoke curling from his nose as they both gazed thoughtfully into the dark above them, comfortable and quiet in the afterglow.

They fucked again a few more times that night; slower, closer to lovers than the raw fuck of earlier, and Simon spooned up behind his captain, thrusting into him as he tenderly kissed his neck, drawing out softer moans and praise. "Yeah, Simon... Mm, fuck, that's, ah, ah, please..." The way Price arched into him, muscular body spreading itself eagerly to be pleasured, gravelly voice demanding and pleading in equal measure, made Simon heady with lust and adoration.

Simon wasn't sure what the fuck they had, what it was called; he knew it was wrong by the standards of the service, but they'd have to pry it out of his cold dead hands.

[xyfanficarchive]

honeymoon phase (kinda 18+)

Mouthwashing - Jimmy x Reader

Summary - some more thoughts on this headcanon post i made recently, after you and jim just get together. completely unedited and typed directly into the tumblr post editor.

Content warnings: post sex cuddles, uhhh soft Jimmy?, misogyny, intense idealization of you, descriptions of attempted suicide, descriptions of self harm scars

This isn’t something he’s used to. Warm bed, thick covers, pillows aplenty, your soft skin against his as you lay side by side.

He’s fucked enough girls, alright. He knows the look by heart, the moment he’s spotted, some bitch with the air that she’s been beat or touched by Daddy when she was little. There’s something about Jimmy that reads obvious to them, like they can see his poverty, his violent and impulsive tendencies, his complete fucking disdain for humanity, his history of addiction, his criminal record, all in the features of his face. The shape of his eyes and the dark bags below them, the profile of his nose, the way his hair hangs on his forehead, the curve of his lips, his unshaven face, his posture; it must spell out “broken” or “criminal,” and it’s his loathsome look in specific that makes them wet. That has them throwing themselves at him to spread their hybristophiliac legs before him. Choke me, slap me, pull my hair, fuck me hard while I say no. Then, there were the others who weren’t even worth mentioning. But he didn’t give a shit; pussy is pussy is pussy when it all comes down to it, and no matter how he gets it, it’s way better than his fucking hand, that’s for sure. One and done on his unwashed sheets, and sent off again.

He could no longer say that all pussy was the same with the certainty it was true, not since he met you. He could hardly even say he had fucked you, it felt too crass for what had just transpired. With the way you undressed each other, all tender caresses, shining eyes, open hearted vulnerability, you on your back sighing his name with every stroke, and your hands were in his hair, not pulling, but combing your fingers through in a way that made him shiver; no, he was more inclined to say he had made love to you, in all its nauseatingly saccharine connotations.

Jimmy had tried to kill himself when he was 15. ‘Yeah,’ he would scoff, ‘see how that worked out. Just as well as any other fucking thing I’ve done.’ But he still remembers the burn, hanging from that rope he had tied incorrectly, a deep fucking burn in his lungs and limbs and brain as his body flailed autonomously, his traitorous body trying to live even as he wanted to die. Every single cell in every organ, every tissue, every fiber was ablaze, shrieking in hungry panicked desperation for oxygen. Then as his vision was closing in black around him, the rope snapped, he collapsed on the floor gasping himself back to life.

Only the body felt the relief of taking those breaths. His mind was still burning, just as it had been since he was little, just as it had continued to burn for all the rest of his unfortunate existence after. Misery was his natural condition. Hunger was all he had known. Until he met you.

You, oh strange one, who didn’t turn away from his slimy nature in disgust, nor fling yourself at him because taking dirty felon cock was how you got your rocks off. He was as awful to you as everyone else. And you sure didn’t take it lying down, but neither did you leave him behind in the dust, like the rest of humanity. (Well, except for Curly.) You came back. Trying. Always trying, not always liking him, but never hating him. It confused the shit out of him more than anything. You had, for the most part, completely disarmed him.

And then you told him that he didn’t have to fight and claw so hard to prove himself. That he was valuable, that he was worthy just for existing.

It was like the rope hanging his psyche by the neck had finally snapped, and he was gasping cool sweet relief into his lungs, flooding through his limbs, relieving the desperate ache that had plagued him for all his conscious memory.

He knew then that you were made for him. You were different, you were nothing like the other fucking bitches - no, no, you weren’t a bitch at all. You, in your infinite shining compassion, understood him. You liked him. The worthless cunts would cringe, eyes all slick shiny and firm set on him with fear, edging away like they’d be contaminated by breathing the same air as him, but you would approach him with kindness and familiarity. You smiled and laughed with him. You listened to him talk about his struggles, his past, his fears, with an open heart. You were an angel sent down from heaven to save him, and he scrambled to claim you as his like a man scrambled against being buried alive, like a man with a ball and chain on his ankle scrambled against being thrown into the sea, like a man falsely condemned to the gallows scrambled against being dragged up the platform.

You were perfect. Infallible. Strong, that you could even stomach to be near him. You were golden, crystalline and glittering. You were so luminous, you graced him with your light, shining upon him, illuminating to his eyes that the gaping hole in his being was shaped just like you. You were his destiny. He would suffocate to death without you, and in that, he would rather die with you than without you.

But to his surprise, you had willingly walked to fill him. You came into his life with a smile and a kiss. You let him into your bed, where he lay now. The light of the setting sun casting a rose-coloured glaze about the room. All pillows and blankets and warmth and softness he hadn’t known in years, hadn’t known ever, with your supple skin pressed, melting into his. Your hand interlaced with his own. Held upright, that you both could gaze up at the beautiful perfection that was your connection.

Your other fingertip came up to stroke down from his wrist to his elbow, and he felt the warmth sour just a bit. Oh yeah, you hadn’t seen them before. If there was one thing Jimmy fucking despised about his body more than anything else, it was his arms, bearing all the marks, every bitter reminder of his disgusting and dramatic weakness. He’d long since grown out of that shit. He had more mature ways to hurt himself now. But your gentle fingertip tracked over every dip and elevation that marred his skin, every pearly white scar, thick and thin and every thing in-between, lined up horizontal (and sometimes vertical and diagonal) where long sleeves could hide them. He felt your profound, somber consideration flowing out from the pad of your index finger, heard it in the way your breath changed, and it filled him with discomfort, with a deep sense of wrongness. This tendency was one of his worst shortcomings before he dropped it, and certainly was not deserving of any pity.

He didn’t know what to say. He swallowed thickly. “Yeah, I used to cut myself. Then I figured out that that’s pussy shit, so I quit,” he said flatly, bluntly. He wanted you to drop it, to ignore it, to act like they didn’t exist and never had existed, ‘cause they only made him more pathetic.

Your slow tracing faltered. He heard you inhale, a sound loaded with meaning. You moved your head so that you were leaned up against his shoulder. “…I don’t think it’s pussy shit,” your voice finally came, soft and sad, and it worked up some awful cringe in his gut. He didn’t respond, tensing up against you.

After another couple beats of silence, you spoke again, so terribly, horribly delicate: “You must’ve been in a lot of pain. I’m really sorry, Jimmy.”

He felt a deep throb of anguish in his chest. It confused him, and it lingered painfully. But self-compassion is a feeling, a process entirely inaccessible to him. He’s not going to ruin this moment by trying. He’s perfectly content to leave all the compassion up to you, for whom it comes easy as breathing. He simply dropped his arm, hand still interlocked with yours, pulling it out of view, pulling you down with him.

He shifted, pushing himself up just enough that he could look at you, your perfect face, eyes shining with a mix of compassion and pity and love. He leaned down, eyes fluttering closed, to kiss you on the lips; he’s still quite unpracticed at this, and all its tender passion, he’s a little too hard with it, a little too sloppy, but still completely heartfelt all the same. And he hoped it was enough to make you drop the issue.

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

To Rate a Hug part 2 of ?

Tags: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer Morningstar x Reader, humor, antics, shenanigans, Alastor is a petty bitch, Lucifer is a dork, Reader is also a dork

part 1

Alastor’s ear twitched at the sound of someone shouting your name. He glanced over, seeing Lucifer skip up to you like a lovestruck fool.

“Hey, Luci!” You said with a grin, scooping up the fallen angel in a hug. Lucifer’s eyes briefly took on a heart shape as he hugged you back, a light blush on his cheeks.

Alastor turned his attention back to his reading. A low growl permeated from his chest without his permission which agitated him even more. Wasn’t the thing you said at that silly little activity about wanting his attention? Why now has that shifted to Lucifer?

Was it because he gave you what you wanted?

Alastor gritted his teeth, grin straining. This is a ridiculous waste of thought. If this pettiness is simply because he wouldn’t indulge in your strange desires than it wasn’t worth his time-

“Alastor, you okay?”

Your voice snapped him out of his musings. He quickly composed himself and gave you a bright smile.

“Of course, my dear!” He said “Whatever makes you think otherwise?”

“Um. Probably because you’re hunched over in the corner growling.” Lucifer said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Alastor’s eye twitched. Why was this idiot still here?

“Don’t you have something you need to be doing?” He said with mock interest “I imagine the King of Hell has quite a full schedule.”

Lucifer shrugged “Not really. I’m kind of just here to look pretty.”

You snickered at that, covering your mouth with one hand. Lucifer stood up taller, puffing his chest out.

“Yes, well. I do.” He said, slipping away into the shadows.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your ears went down, watching Alastor slip away. Did the conversation from the other day bother him that much? If that’s the case you’d need to apologize. And, well, no time like the present.

“I’m going to go talk to him.” You said, shooting Lucifer a smile. The King jumped a bit at your voice, startled out of the glaring contest he was having with where Alastor just was. He frowned at you.

“Um. Maybe you shouldn’t?”

You picked him up and held him out at arm’s length “Listen, I get where you’re coming from, but I think this is partially my fault, so I need to talk to him.”

“How is it your fault he’s an asshole?” Lucifer said, flailing his arms about.

“Well…Maybe my comment in the Truth or Dare thing made him uncomfortable…”

“That’s his problem, then.” He snorted, crossing his arms.

You sighed, gently placing Lucifer back on the ground. You put his hands on both of his shoulder and leaned down to be eye-level. “Again, I appreciate where you’re coming from. But I feel like I should talk to him about this so I’m going to.”

He bit his lip, brows furrowing. “Uh….Okay.” He ran a hand down his face “Just. Just be careful, all right?”

You grinned “Nah, I’mma run with scissors.”

“That’s like, the opposite of careful.” Lucifer pouted. He took a deep breath and gave you a small smile. “See you later.”

You said your farewell and scuttled off. Alastor would likely be in either his room or his radio tower, you figured. Which were both typically off-limits but you’d be sure to get his permission before barging in. You stopped by his tower first and knocked on the door a couple of times. When that got no response at all you scurried over to his room and knocked a couple times.

“Who’s there?”

Oh boy you could not resist. “Owl says!”

“…Owl says who?”

“That they do!” You said, cackling at your own stupid joke. There was another staticy cackle that quickly joined your own. The door opened and Alastor grinned down at you.

“Very silly joke, my dear. What can I help you with?”

You snorted, wiping a hand under your eyes to brush away the tears. “Well, you’re in a better mood.”

“Difficult not to be when someone surprises you with a horrible knock-knock joke.” He said with the slightest shrug of his shoulders.

“Good point.” You said “Hey, can I talk to you?”

“Fascinatingly enough, you already are.” He said, tilting his head.

“Not what I meant-“

“I know, I know. Come on in.” He said, putting a hand between  your shoulders and pushing you inside. He kicked the door shut behind him with the heel of his shoe and stood there probably doing something but you weren’t paying attention, staring instead at Alastor’s room.

Half of it was a fancy-looking hunting lodge, while the other half a swamp. Fireflies blinked in and out over the waters and you could hear crickets and frog chattering. It smelled like damp moss and sawdust with just hints of coffee.

“Nice room.” You said dumbly. Alastor chuckled, pushing you over to the soft-looking lounge chairs and sitting you down. He sat across from you, crossing his legs in front of him and folding his hand on his lap.

“Now, what did you need to talk about?”

“Oh! Yeah.” You said and turned your attention away from the giant gator skeleton mounted on the wall. “I wanted to apologize.”

He tilted his head “…For what?”

“Um. I think I made you uncomfortable.” You rubbed the back of your neck “With the ‘who I’d want to hug’ comment? I really should’ve kept that to myself. I mean, I know you like your personal space and don’t really want people thinking of invading it-.” You stopped your rambling and took a steadying breath. “So. Yes. I wanted to apologize.”

Empty static hung in the air.  You started rocking in your seat, hunching over yourself. Alastor just stared at you, glowing red eyes a sharp contract to the gentle greens and browns behind him.

“I suppose I didn’t expect you to give up quite that easily.” He said, grin unmoving. He tilted his head to the opposite side, eyes squinting ever-so-slightly “If that’s something you wanted so badly, after all…”

You blinked. “Um.” Then realization hit you with a brick “…Did you want me to try hugging you?”

The audible record scratch gave you an answer. Alastor straightened up, clasped hands tightening into a white-knuckled grip.

What he wanted was your attention back on him, and not that fool of a king. What he wanted was you to pursue him and not Lucifer.

“Perhaps.” Alastor said.

You sighed. “Then you should’ve said so, Alastor. I’m not a mind reader. What I got from our talk after that was you thought I wanted something from you and that made you uncomfortable.”

Alastor’s ear twitched. “…So you’re diverting your attention to Lucifer because….?”

You shrugged “Dude’s touch-starved. You give him a hug and he turns into the happiest person in Hell.”

You jumped when Alastor had appeared right in front you. His grin was wide. “So it’s pity that has your attention on him?”

“Uh. No.” You muttered, pushing him away “Really it’s just… Well he gives pretty good hugs. Once I realized I can pick him up to the hug was pretty much perfect.”

“Oh I’m sure I can be much better.” Alastor said with a huff, waving you off. “You wouldn’t have to break your spine or pick someone up for a embrace of much higher quality.”

You rose your eyebrow, ears flicking. “Okay. Before I continue. Our conversation has lead be to believe you want me to try and hug you. Is this correct?”

“I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Not really, saying giving mixed signals and being cryptic are your favorite past times.” You said with a roll of your eyes.

Alastor’s grin stiffened. His ears pinned back as he suddenly found the swamp more interesting. He snapped his fingers and a piece of paper appeared over your face. You jumped, startled, then took the paper and read it.

Yes pursue the hug thing and tell NO ONE.

You snorted, biting your lip not to laugh. But then you laughed anyway.

“Oooooh buddy you have no idea what kind of game you’re playing now.” You said with a sinister grin. “I’mma hug you.”

“I’m sure your attempts will be amusing.” He said casually, checking his claws.

“I warn you, I have many sinister plans at my disposal.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Starting my first plan. A-hem. Can I hug you?”

“Mmm….Nope!”

Well that didn’t work.

[g0dlyunsub]

can u do Spencer x fem reader where he's away on a case and she is super sick but doesn't tell him bc she doesn't want him to worry and he ends up coming home early and surprises her but she is still soo sick and he feels so bad that she felt like she couldn't tell him and takes care of her and is just so sweet with her!

yess! i loved writing this one so much 😳

doctor's orders.

you fall sick and decide not to disturb spencer during his working hours. when he returns home, he demands that he takes care of you, and you realize how adept he is at fondling the soreness out of you.

pairing :: spencer x fem!reader

contents :: slightly suggestive :3 lots of fluff, spencer calls reader a good girl once

word count :: 2.5k

author’s note :: spencer would literally be so gentle when taking care of you, it actually makes me sick to the core just thinking about how his nimble fingers would brush back your hair when it sticks to your sweaty forehead arghhh

accompanying song :: sugar by unusual demont

you struggle to keep your balance as you attempt to walk from the couch to the fridge. everything’s a warped blur, and you flail your arms helplessly to catch yourself from leaning too far to one side. but your head’s pounding relentlessly while a faint high-pitched ringing echoes through your ears; a burning sensation’s spreading through your back like a wildfire and your throat’s clenching with a throbbing pain every time you swallow. soon you’re on the ground, your hands fully taking in the coldness of the bare floor. you take labored breaths as you try to compose yourself, mentally counting backwards from ten as you try to lift yourself up but to no avail.

you haven’t felt this sick in a while, and you curse your own body for the painful reminder. you wince as you rest your head on your arm briefly, finally gathering some strength to push yourself off the floor. a bead of sweat trickles down your forehead, and you sigh weakly as you try to stabilize yourself.

the muscle pain, fatigue, congestion, sore throat, and fever – they’re a handful, and you know the symptoms would eventually subside with some home remedies and time, but it barely helps when you can only move by half-crawling and resting your hand on the wall every other step. 

and you don’t want to bother spencer about it. he left you early in the morning, but not without fixing you a cup of tea and some scrambled eggs. you were still in bed, blissfully unaware of the symptoms marinating as you slept. and while he’s always told you to text or call him even if it was for a minor inconvenience, you feel bad for taking his time away from something that would easily overtake priority on anyone else’s list – murders, kidnappings, and hostage situations, just to name a few. yet you feel like you’re really testing the waters this time, clearly overestimating your ability to deal with your troubles when you’re clearing the contents of your stomach in the bathroom.

you drag yourself to the kitchen to pour a glass of cold water and gulp it down with tylenol from spencer’s medicine cabinet. it quickly quenches your thirst, and you carelessly drop the glass on the table with a loud thud. you groan as you place a hand on your forehead to feel your temperature. it’s scorching hot, and combined with the sweat, you feel as if your body will give out any moment.

you wipe your hands on your sides and whisper a soft oh. right. you had attempted to surprise your boyfriend with a pretty outfit, wearing a dress with thick lines of lace and mesh sleeves. but the silky layers were insulating all the heat in you, stinging your delicate skin and suffocating you slowly. you can barely lift your arms to take it off, so you give up and lie on the couch. bringing your knees to your chest, you curl up and try to think of anything but your pain.

spencer opens the door with a large grin plastered on his face, eager to greet you back with a tight embrace. he’s carrying a small basket with cookies and heart-shaped packing peanuts scattered all around them, a purchase he scoured for hours at the local plaza after asking garcia what she thinks you would enjoy. 

“y/n? guess what!” he walks into the living room with an energetic step, only to stop when he spots you groggily waking up on the couch, your face deeply red and hot puffs of air leaving your mouth in the form of short pants. 

spencer drops everything to the ground and runs over to you, the heart-shaped foams rolling everywhere on the ground and ricocheting off the front skirt of the furniture. 

“y/n – what happened?” your boyfriend squeezes his arms into the thin space underneath your body, repositioning you so your neck can lie on the padded cushions of the armrest. you whine in pain as you turn to face him, your half-closed eyelids twitching as you try to keep them open. 

“hurts,” you wince, and your voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. you’re miserable that this is the state that you’re in, pain jolting through every inch of your body, leaving you a writhing mess in your man’s unwavering hands.

“shh, let me take care of you,” spencer murmurs with a gentle tone, one that’s higher-pitched and soothes you instantly like a massage. he stuffs a cushion under the nape of your neck and props each of your legs up on the other sidearm before wiping your forehead sweat with the back of his hand. his slightly musky and sudsy smell makes you lean into his touch, an intoxicating distraction from the torment of your numbing pain.

“did you dress up like this all for me?” he asks you, his fingers softly brushing back your hair as he examines your outfit. you let out an indecipherable string of words, discomfort flooding into the back of your throat as you attempt to speak.

spencer stands and heads to the medicine cabinet, where he pulls out a thermometer and makes quick strides back to the couch.

“open,” he demands lightly, and you slightly part your lips as he brings the thermometer to your tongue. you slowly close your mouth, feeling the cool tip turn warm under your muscle as you wait for the beep to ring.

when it does, spencer checks your temperature with a concentrated expression, which soon morphs into marked concern. you blink at him slowly, all the while his hands rake through your hair in a rhythmic motion. 

he stands once again, disappearing into his room before coming back shortly with one of his t-shirts and a pair of your shorts hanging loosely from his arm. 

“you need to change, y/n. as beautiful as you look with this dress, it’s interfering with your body’s ability to thermoregulate.” 

you weakly sigh in response, slowly reaching for his shirt as you inhale his familiar scent. you hug his shirt for a little while longer, and spencer has to remind you to change with a soft tap of your hand.

with the help of your boyfriend’s arms, you sit up slowly and start to shrug the sleeves off of your shoulders, to which spencer instantly looks away. he clears his throat as you slip out of your dress and pull up your navy shorts, and he diverts his attention by deciding to pick up the fallen foams instead. after you hastily throw the shirt over your head, you sink back onto the couch and feel an instant sensation of relief as the heat radiating from your body meets the cool air.

spencer’s face is a deep red this time when he looks back to see that the edge of his shirt’s folded in on itself, thereby exposing your stomach in plain view. he hesitantly reaches for the hem and drags it down to cover you, and his hand hovers over your waist for a brief second. 

“i’ll be back,” he briefly states before moving back into the kitchen, where he pours a cold glass of water for himself. he takes off his cardigan and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, before reaching his hands into the sink and splashing his face with water. he has no idea how you manage to capture his attention so effortlessly, leave him desperate for air as if he’s the one that’s sick. he bites the inside of his cheek as the image of your flushed face and exposed torso gnaws at his thoughts.

the things you do to him.

he returns to you with an electrolyte drink in his hand, which he uncaps and brings to the bottom of your lips. you take slow gulps as he lays his hand at the base of your neck and helps you to lean back for easier access. once you’re done, he wipes the wet corner of your lips before screwing the cap back on again. 

“you didn’t take your acetaminophen, um, tylenol, with dayquil did you?” he asks as he sets the drink on an adjacent table and turns back to face you. you shake your head no and his shoulders relax as he comes down on his knees next to you.

“good girl,” he hums, and you worry your face is even redder than before -- if that’s even possible. your heart races when he utters those words, and you shift your gaze to the ceiling in unanticipated nervousness. you thank yourself for falling sick when you feel your cheeks turn a shade of pomegranate red, and it feels like your skin is singed from your own emotional response.

“are you hurting anywhere else?” he asks you, and you briefly close your eyes as you try to register a way to explain your pain to him. when your eyelids open, spencer’s tender gaze meets your tear-soaked orbs. 

“everywhere,” you gasp. as soon as you speak, you feel an acidic taste bubble up your esophagus, causing you to gag. 

“spence, i- i’m gonna vomit-” you barely manage to let out as you rush to the bathroom, bending over to throw up.

spencer’s right hand gathers your hair and lightly bundles them up in a makeshift ponytail, while his left picks up the stray strands of hair that manage to escape his large grip. you stretch your arm so your sweaty palm presses against the wall, and you grip tightly when illusory stars dizzy your vision.

when you finish, he helps you to slowly get up, one hand on your waist and the other holding your arm as he guides you back to the couch.

you soon feel the tears start to fall, leaving wet speckles on your boyfriend’s arm. he brushes them away as he cups your face, reassuring you with words of comfort.

“it’s okay, you can take all the time you need,” he whispers, worriedly pursing his lips as he surveys your rosy cheeks, tear-stained eyes, and irritated nose. 

when you lay back, a layer of sweat presses against your back and his gauzy shirt sticks to your skin like hot glue. spencer's gentle hand rubs up and down your shoulder, before it drags halfway down the trail of your arm.

even more softly, your boyfriend suggests, “do you want to try some acupuncture? while we wait for your body to clear the infection, we can try to reduce your symptoms through natural techniques. there are various acupoints for exogenous fever, and it might help to apply some pressure there.” 

you nod slowly. at this point, you’re willing to try anything to relieve even the smallest ounce of pain. spencer takes the opportunity to lift you in a sitting position once again, turning you to sit facing away from him. 

he then lifts a thumb and approaches your back, finding the indentation just below the bump of the middle of your spine. when he lightly applies pressure, a whimper leaves your lips and you lightly grip the sides of the couch. he wordlessly repeats this three more times before moving up to the nape of your neck, where he applies pressure in a circular motion. a defeated groan escapes your throat as you’re weighed down with his intolerable tenderness. you try to withhold yourself, to lump your sounds in your lungs like they’re a clot, but it’s a feeble attempt, one that encourages spencer to keep going. but he knows. despite how unfiltered and raw your cries are, they are not desire, not in that sense.

“acupuncture… it’s an excellent way to promote blood circulation as it stimulates flow through the body. targeting certain acupoints could help to reduce congestion, as well as relieve headaches and neck pains that are often associated with fever," he muses as he moves further down your spine again, lightly applying force in areas that soon subside from burning pain into relief. 

spencer feels that there's a sense of logic to the way you move underneath his touch; the way your chest heaves euphorically in and out, the way you gulp for air between the rubs, and the way you shudder quietly. all of it fascinates him.

“but,” your boyfriend breaks his short-lived silence, “that’s not what i want to talk about right now." spencer lightly grunts as he shifts his weight by kneeling on one knee, placing his hand on your forehead to check your temperature again.

“i want you to explain why you didn’t text or call me.” his tone is a cautionary one, and it makes you slightly nervous.

“I didn’t want to disturb you. and… i wanted to surprise you,” you truthfully reply, avoiding his gaze.

he lightly chuckles before playfully poking your cheek.

“forget about the surprise. any time you’re sick like this, i need you to tell me. okay?” he taps each of his fingers across your arm and your hand lightly twitches with the gentle contact.

when you don’t respond, he raises a brow at you.

“that’s an order, y/n.” 

you dispiritedly return a yes before he nods in approval. 

“you look beautiful regardless of what you wear, y/n.” he makes sure not to come too close to you when he speaks, aware his warm breath could make it uncomfortable for you.

“you don’t have to lie, i look terrible right now.” you try to look away, but his gaze follows you as you move.

“what are you saying?" he frowns. "you’re so strikingly beautiful, it hurts when i have to see you in pain. i hate seeing you sick like this because you smile less. and i love seeing you smile,” he speaks dreamily, his lovestruck eyes glazing over yours like the two of you are interchanging blessings.

“okay, doctor reid,” you say half-sarcastically, but you smile when his thumb grazes your cheek. spencer grins in response and buries his face into your neck, his soft hair tickling against your cheek. you burst out laughing, but your sudden movements cause your face to contort into pain as you cough.

spencer pulls back almost instantly, laying a hand on your shoulder and telling you to breathe. when you both recollect your breaths, he gets up and stretches his arms.

“tell me when you’re feeling ready for a bath, i’ll set it up for you.”

he stands beside you, watching as your chest rises up and down with your timed breaths. you smile contently before lightly pinching the side of his trousers.

“but i want to keep this shirt,” you say coyly, admiring the softness of the fabric as you trace the edges of the embroidered fbi logo.

you look up to see spencer blush as he scratches the back of his neck. 

“i’ll have a new change of my clothes for you.”

he then stoops to take away your now lukewarm cup of water before disappearing into the kitchen.

the things you do to him.

[jayschaconne]

LOVESICK | Kim Sunoo

summary: While on summer vacation you find yourself falling for Sunoo in just a matter of seconds.

warnings: (minors dni), heavy smut, unprotected sex, size kink (?) (idk about y’all but I LOVE Sunoo’s shoulders), swearing (excessive use of the word ‘cunt’), both reader and Sunoo are down bad (ALSO VERY FREAKY) (not proofread)

genre: fluff, smut, angst

a/n: I’ve finally written about all of enha on here omg. also this isn’t what I wanted it to be so try and enjoy it ig. sorry for making it long.

…

There were green leaves scattered across the street. The sun hitting your eyes, blocking your vision.

You carried a tote bag with books you’d just checked out from the library nearby. Coming to visit your parents’ home country wasn’t your most favourite thing to do, but getting to take in the fresh summer breeze and stroll across streets you’d grown accustomed to had soothed you in its own ways.

It was pretty out. You loved the fresh green grass and the trees that sheltered you from the harsh sunlight. The serene, ocean-blue skies that were peppered with clouds shaped like hearts and different animals, making you laugh to yourself.

All the while you’d been preoccupied, you’d forgot to take notice of things around you. This caused you to so suddenly bump into someone and land flat on the ground. You were sure you’d hurt your elbow.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” a soft, calming voice had called from above you. “Here, let me help you.”

The man crouched down to pick up the fallen contents out of your bag. You had no time to tend to the wound that formed on your skin. Because in a split second, all your attention was on the boy in front of you.

He seemed to be out of this world.

Your eyes locked on his, staring deeply. You couldn’t seem to look anywhere other than his face. His plump lips, the curve of his brows. His adorable nose. The way his bangs were reaching his eyes. The plain beige shirt he was adorned in paired with blue denim that sat proudly on his shoulders.

He seemed to be at a loss of words for the first few seconds. You both took each other in, a sigh coming from him, your eyes refusing to even blink, fearing he’d disappear if you had.

A smile had reached his lips and his honey-brown eyes. A shy chuckle escaped. “Forgive me for being this direct but,” he sighed, “you’re incredibly stunning.”

Sunoo was in total awe at how you were speechless when face-to-face with him. Your lips slightly parted, almost as if you hadn’t expected to see him, though it was normal given that he was a stranger.

What could it have been that made those beautiful eyes seem to have a million questions behind them at the sight of him?

And how on earth could someone be this gorgeous? He felt his heart smile when he first saw you; it started beating at a much slower, more steady pace. Making him feel like he’d been enveloped into a world where only the pretty girl carrying books, who he just bumped into existed. Your curls that flailed with the wind, the coconut scent in your hair, those long lashes that fluttered as you lifted your eyes to peer up at him. Doll-like, they gleamed in the sunlight.

You finally broke away from your train of thought.

“I’m..sorry.” You said, unsure of what to feel towards this man or how he’d just called you beautiful.

“I mean thank you.” You added while a nervous laugh had escaped your lips. You could feel the heat rising up to your cheeks. “You’re gorgeous,” you said before being able to stop yourself.

Just then, you heard him laugh. It was the most beautiful sound of laughter you’d ever gotten to hear.

“Let me help you,” he said again, this time helping you back up on your feet. Your hands were in his, feeling the soft skin of his palms and the warmth radiating from them.

“Thank you.” You let out almost in a huff. You couldn’t understand this feeling. It was in the pit of your stomach, but also latched onto your heart. The sight of this strange, beautiful boy you’d just met made it slightly harder to breathe. It made your knees weak.

You both were very, very still for a moment. His hands had kept their hold on you, eyes locking deeper into yours. A sigh left him, and he let both your arms fall.

“Is it wrong to want to know your name?”

“Please tell me your name.”

You both had spoken at the same time. This caused you two to share a moment together, laughing at the coincidence.

“You first,” he softly said. His gaze on you was so warm and welcoming. It made you melt.

“Y/n,” you said, not being able to help how you brushed your hair behind your ear at how shy he made you feel.

“That’s pretty. But it doesn’t surprise me. Pretty things have pretty names.” Sunoo confessed.

He felt like an idiot that was just going and on and on about your looks. He so badly wanted to spend the rest of his day with you.

“You are?”

“Sunoo,” his eye smile was back.

Sunoo. You felt your heart flutter at his name being just as gorgeous.

The evening had rolled around quick, but ironically slow at the same time.

You two walked into the park nearby, feeling time slowly slip away, but still being enough to let you bask in each other’s presence.

You couldn’t believe how radiant a human being could be, to not have one flaw in them. Sunoo was absolutely perfect. He was the real definition of ‘too good to be true’.

He was open, easily understood. It made you wonder if it was just how direct he was that made him want to compliment you.

But his eyes spoke for themselves. You’d stop walking at certain points, which gave him more of a reason to keep his eyes on you.

His gaze was still, subtle, but there was so much more behind those eyes than even he could comprehend.

At a certain point, Sunoo had started to carry himself in a way where he wasn’t hiding his affection for you. Stories he heard, he wanted to hear more of. “Tell me more,” he’d nod. That smile tugging at the corner of his lips made your attachment grow.

Sunoo couldn’t grasp at where it rooted from, but there was this feeling of familiarity that was slowly growing between you two. Just within a few glances and words exchanged, Sunoo felt like he’d known you a lifetime.

“I’m staying here with my aunt for the time-being. I’ll be going back in a couple months,” he explained while you two sat on a bench far near the trees in the park.

And if it weren’t for the bitter taste forming in your mouth at the thought of keeping something from him, you wouldn’t have said it.

“I’ll be leaving in two weeks.”

A gap had suddenly opened up in that one corner of his heart that felt like it had been reserved just for you. It had to have been you it belonged to, he was certain. But it was slowly emptying itself now. Your words left a scar that he wasn’t sure could now be ceased.

At his silence, you grew nervous. “Sun-

Loose strands of hair had been in your eyes then, which he brushed away with a light touch of his fingers. “Let me get those for you,” he hushed in a whisper. You felt your eyes shut momentarily, your heart racing.

He didn’t acknowledge what you’d just told him.

He retracted his hand, looking at you with such tenderness. Such adoration.

“Sunoo.”

“Yes.”

There was so much you wanted to say but the words wouldn’t leave your mouth.

“Nothing.”

And there it was. He laughed again.

“Is it okay if I…” you spoke, unsure.

“Hm,” he patiently waited for you to say whatever it was you wanted to.

Your lips were parted, but again, no words came out. You could explain it so much better if you just touched him.

Your hands reached up to his hair, picking at the loose ends. You needed to feel him. Touch him. It was the only thing you knew with him.

You weren’t big on communicating your feelings. It wasn’t anything you were used to. And while Sunoo had given you more than reason to be open with him, he was so overwhelming. Speaking was the last thing your feelings would allow you to do.

Touching him felt much more familiar. His skin underneath your palms allowed you to say things your lips couldn’t.

He watched, following only your eyes as you placed your hand around his neck, leaving traces of fingertips he saw as you engraving your mark on him.

He sat incredibly still, but relaxed underneath you. Your hand was now cupping his face. He moved suddenly, lips brushing your fingers.

“Sunoo…”

“Don’t drive me crazy like that,” he whispered, almost pleading.

The sleeve of your cardigan had rolled up, and Sunoo noticed the scrape on your elbow, brows immediately knitting together in worry. He saw how the open wound started to bleed.

“Oh no,” he wept. “That must hurt.” He took your arm into his hands, eyes searching yours to ask permission if this was okay.

You didn’t say anything. Didn’t speak or budge. You just let him touch you, so used to it already. His fingertips grazed your skin, making the cut sting.

You hissed, causing him to retract his hand instantly.

“I’m so sorry,” he said worriedly.

“No, it’s not you. It just stings a little that’s all.”

“My aunt’s house is just a few blocks down. We should get you there quick before you lose too much blood.”

“I wouldn’t wanna cause any trouble, Sunoo.” You said, incapable of keeping his name out your mouth. Sunoo. It reminded you of sunshine. The way he’d suddenly walked into your life, raining his sun showers upon you with his bright and bubbly self. His name suit him perfectly.

“You expect me to listen after you say my name like that?” He was getting shy, but also very much see through in such little time. It was because you said it. You’d looked at him, and said his name in a way where it sounded like you’d said it a million times before.

“It’s just a small cut.”

It isn’t to me, he wanted to say.

“Do you have to go home right away?” He asked.

“No,” you lied.

“Then you’re coming with me.”

Sunoo managed to rummage through his pockets, finding a handkerchief. He tried his best to wrap it around somehow. But you ended up having to put pressure on it.

Despite all your protests against going to his aunt’s, deep down you were aching to be alone with him. It felt as if any moment you looked elsewhere, he’d slip away. And while your mind was boggled at the thought of that, your heart had understood. Without a second thought, you went with him. Not caring where he’d take you as long as he was still there.

The small blood stain on your cardigan made him take it from you, offering his own jacket. He carried your bag as well, looking over every two seconds to make sure you weren’t in too much pain.

Once you’d reached there, he paced around anxiously, looking through the drawers to try to find a first-aid kit.

You sat in his room, taking in the atmosphere of it. It was peaceful, clean, just the way you’d expected it to be.

He was so stressed over this stupid wound. It felt weird seeing this boy who had been a stranger just a few hours ago, rummaging through his drawers to find a bandaid for you.

You felt yourself unable to keep still anymore. You walked over to him, taking ahold of his arms.

Sunoo’s movements came to a halt, and he seemed more at ease.

“Why does this matter to you so much?”

He stood there, unable to speak. He blinked at you a few times, looking like he had an answer that just wasn’t reaching his lips.

“I…don’t know how to say it.”

“What could you possibly want to hide from me? You’re so obvious, Sunoo.”

His eyes had widened slightly, and he avoided looking at you in the face. “I’m not the only obvious one.”

“Sunoo, the bleeding has stopped.” You held up the handkerchief, revealing the dried stains of blood.

He looked down at your arm, examining it.

“Let me at least put a smaller bandaid on it.”

“Sunoo.” You started.

“Don’t keep saying my name like that.”

“Why?”

He pondered for a moment, wondering if it was the right thing to say.

“It makes me wanna kiss you.” He blurted out. There was defeat in his voice, like he’d admitted something he hadn’t meant to.

You felt relieved at that, feeling a little less crazy for how you were so deeply attracted to him already. “At least you admitted it.”

“You’d let me kiss you?”

“You’re too oblivious for your own good. I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t want to spend every remaining second of my day with you.”

Sunoo let you go on, feeling slightly a bit more relaxed that he wasn’t crazy for having these feelings. That you were possibly implying that you liked him too.

“Would you let me kiss you?” He repeated his question.

“Yes,” you breathed out. “I’d want you to.”

He was silent. His gaze remained intact. He so badly wanted to kiss you. Brush your hair away from your eyes again.

“I’ve known how you made me feel from the moment you first spoke to me. And just over a small wound you’ve been so worked up. But I get it. If I’d seen you hurt I’d go just as crazy.”

You moved closer to him, hands reaching up to touch the face you’d touched several minutes before.

Sunoo’s eyes closed shut, and he eased into the way your fingers grazed his skin. The warmth of your fingertips had kissed his skin so gently, he felt like his knees might’ve given up.

He opened his eyes to look over at you again, this time his eyes burned, speaking words you hadn’t seen in them before.

“Are you in love?” He sounded uncertain. There was something so strong that was inviting him to you, like some magnetic pull. He wasn’t sure what was next.

“That’s such a stupid question. Of course, I’m in love. It’s you, Sunoo.”

Sunoo had without blinking, pulled you closer, a delicate hand on your jaw, his lips slowly closing the gap between you two.

He’d been chasing this relief from the very first moment his eyes fell upon you. Your curls, your lips, those eyes, all crossing his mind as his lips engulfed yours in a deep, slow kiss.

You felt him guide you so your back hit his bed, feeling his smile grow against your lips, both your teeth almost clashing. “I’m so in love with you,” he whispered, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

This felt amazing. The way you’d felt so close to him, your heart having been so at home with his touch gliding over your skin, his kisses so impatient.

You felt unable to keep your hands off him. They traced up his arms, reaching his shoulders, making you almost gasp at how big they felt. You couldn’t help but drool at the sight.

“You like my shoulders baby?” He laughed, eyes sparkling as he towered over you.

Baby, the word rolled off his tongue like it was so used to being said to you.

You felt yourself shudder beneath him, hands remaining still, feeling him. “They’re just so…big.”

You loved the feeling of being so small compared to him. The need to feel him touch you grew more intense.

Sunoo smirked down at you. “You like touching them?”

You nodded, pulling him closer. He hovered above you, just inches away.

“Tell me how much.”

“I wanna sit…on them” you said shyly looking away, embarrassed to have admitted such a thing.

“Don’t be shy,” he laughed, taking your face into his hands. “I want you to,” he reassured you.

“Please, I need you.”

Sunoo reacted by pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his cream-coloured skin. He pulled you into his lap, kissing you again.

But this time, he nipped at your bottom lip, causing you to gasp in his mouth. His tongue collided with yours, slurping and sucking, savouring as much as he could of you.

You were incredibly intolerant of how slow this was going. You managed to slide off your tank top by its straps, all the while making out, letting Sunoo get a good look at your bare chest.

He whimpered at the sight. “Can I suck?” He whispered, so unsure of what he’d do wrong.

You nodded eagerly, feeling the warmth of his mouth around your sensitive nub in seconds.

Sunoo sucked on your tits like he’d been hungry for your skin, yearning to get a taste of it for a long while.

Both your heads had turned at the sound of the front door closing. You almost panicked until Sunoo grabbed his duvet cover and wrapped it around you.

He got up to lock his door.

“Sunoo, dear? Are you home?” A voice called from outside.

He looked back at you, seeing how you’d shrank inside the duvet cover, looking as beautiful as ever. He was still processing how you ended up sprawled out on his bed, waiting to get fucked by him.

He walked back to you, crawling over and placing his index finger on your lips. “Shh,” he hushed with a smile playing on his lips.

“Open for me,” he whispered as his fingers parted your lips. You obliged and felt two fingers slide inside your mouth.

“To keep you from being too loud,” he cooed at you.

He put his face in between your breasts, you taking ahold of his head, letting him lick up invisible patterns with his tongue.

“Sunoo,” you moaned around his fingers. “Please.”

“Please what, baby?”

“Let me ride you.”

He grasped at the long skirt you wore, watching it slide off your legs smoothly.

You tugged at Sunoo’s pants, unbuckling his belt yourself and sliding them down to his knees.

You pushed him flat on the bed, and crawled on top, letting his boner free from his briefs.

Sunoo grabbed a pillow to stifle the loud, deep moan that escaped his lips, causing you to get even more wet at the thought of getting to fuck him.

Your mouth watered at the sight of his precum gathering at the tip.

You straddled him, watching his eyes burn into you, his mouth hung agape. Your eyes stayed on his as you made slow, teasing strokes on him.

“Ahh, fuck,” a groan came from deep within his throat, loving the feeling of your hands on his dick.

His head rolled back into the sheets, eyes shut tight, such sweet moans being released from him.

His hands came in contact with your ass, squeezing and pulling on the soft skin; they felt huge as they worked on you. You were in love with how large every part of him was.

His dick was too tempting, too perfectly girthy for you to not put your mouth on it.

You lowered yourself down, spitting on his tip and stroking him again. You watched as Sunoo’s hand clasped on his mouth, with his back arching, stifling his moans that were getting too loud for you two not to get caught.

“Stop,” he breathed out. “Just fuck me already.”

You didn’t waste any more time, sitting on him and feeling him stretch you out in the most toe-curling ways.

He now rested on his elbows, lips connecting in a steamy kiss as your moans released into each other’s mouths at the contact.

You couldn’t help the way you impatiently bucked your hips on him, feeling him writhe underneath you.

“Fuck, baby. I could never imagine you feeling this good,” he exclaimed against your mouth. His hands kept your waist in place, guiding you through the rhythm he created.

Your skin stung with the way he smacked your ass with each thrust into your cunt. Sunoo felt heavenly buried deep inside you.

You motioned for him to lie down again, this time your heat way closer to his mouth, as you eased yourself onto his shoulder. You held the headboard for support, grinding on him gently.

You could feel how toned-up he was. Those hard muscles that you felt against your clit just making your cunt even more needy for him.

Sunoo’s lips attached to the skin of your thighs, one of his hands reaching up to your tits, wanting to feel whatever he could of you.

He loved the way you felt on him. The wet, squelching sounds your cunt made as you rode his shoulder made him want to taste you on his tongue.

Sunoo got ahold of your thighs, lifting up one of your legs to the side of his face, which gave him more access. He turned his head and lapped his tongue furiously against your clit.

You felt yourself start to lose balance as you shook with overstimulation.

“Sun,” you moaned into the back of your own hand. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Not yet,” he said. But it was more of a plead than a demand.

He flipped you over, burying your face in his pillows. Your ass was facing him, and you felt him enter your needy, dripping walls.

You practically screamed into the pillows at the feeling. Sunoo started to wildly buck his hips into you, loving the way you felt wrapped around him.

“Sunoo, please,” you couldn’t contain yourself anymore. You needed him to hear you scream for him.

“That’s right, love. You take me so well,” he panted with each hard thrust.

You felt the bed shake from its place as Sunoo fucked you senseless into the mattress.

You were sweaty, screaming until your lungs felt like giving up. You were filled to the brim with his dick, not being able to contain your high any longer.

“Sun-sunoo,” you croaked, only being able to focus on the way he sounded, every noise that filled the room as he was fucking you.

You were flipped over, facing him now. Sunoo was quick to enter you again, chasing this exhilarating feeling that you both were so close to experiencing together.

Your legs instinctively wrapped themselves around his torso. Tears escaped your eyes at how overwhelming experiencing this was with him. He knew exactly how to fuck you until you couldn’t form a coherent thought.

Sunoo’s lips had found yours, groans being released into your mouth again, as you still marvelled at how he was real.

You dug your nails into his back, not knowing anything but how you were so close to coming undone.

“Oh baby, I’m gonna cum,” he bit down on his hand, feeling his body go limp as both of you climaxed.

Sunoo’s lips had locked with yours in a deep kiss.

“Shit, fuck,” you cried out. “I love you,”

“I love you,” Sunoo wept as he rode out your high, nuzzling his face in your neck.

He released his load onto your stomach. He tried catching his breath, lying his head down on your chest.

Your hands came up to touch the back of his neck, his hair that was drenched in sweat. You played with his blond locks.

“Sunoo?”

“Yes, love,” he spoke tiredly.

“Nothing,” you said, laughing.

This made him laugh again. “I love you,” he whispered to you, curling further into your embrace.

…

The next few days went by fast. Sunoo had introduced you to his aunt, you’d introduced him to your parents, but that was mainly because you two had very loud, frequent sex.

It was his aunt who’d been the unfortunate one to have come home one night to the sound of bed creaking and moans and screams coming from Sunoo’s room.

You both didn’t care about including outsiders in your relationship. You had your own place, which was a 30-minute drive away, but some nights Sunoo was reluctant to leave his aunt since he was helping her run her business.

Even the customers were alarmed at a certain point when Sunoo had attended the door with a button down only thrown around his shoulders, post-make out hair and hickeys on his neck.

“How are you?” He breathed heavily.

A young couple who seemed to be around you guys’ age was at the door.

“Dude, we’re sorry…were you?” The guy asked.

“Yes, actually,” he smiled. “I’d appreciate it if you came back tomorrow.”

“But it’s only 8:30 pm?” The woman said.

“I know. Buh-bye now.”

Sunoo would risk anything to spend time with you. Whether that was helping you do your hair and makeup, taking you on library dates, taking you shopping. You name it.

You two had become inseparable, that it almost made you feel selfish at times. But time was ticking by. All you could do was spend all of it with one another before your flight would board in a week.

You sat playing a card game with Sunoo at the edge of your bed. You were losing horribly.

“Oh no, looks like you made a mistake there, love,” he teased.

You tried your best to smile, not being able to keep this sorrow inside any longer.

“Sun. I’m leaving in 5 days.”

The feeling in the pit of your stomach grew. You had never felt this helpless before. Sunoo, the boy who you’d fallen in love with so quickly, was about to be miles away from you in just a matter of days.

“Come here,” he motioned you over towards his lap.

His hands caught in your loose strands of hair. “You know, knowing how deeply I feel for you, I’m not afraid of the distance that’ll be put between us.”

“You’re not?” You pulled back to look at him.

“Nope, not one bit” he shook his head. “I fell in love with you the moment those eyes looked up at me,” his thumb brushed against your bottom lip.

“How can you not be scared? I’ll be so far away from you.”

“Because I know that this is very special. What we have is nothing ordinary. I fell for you first, everything else came after.”

“But I can’t leave you…”

“I know. I don’t want you to go either.”

You sat in his arms, trying to figure out how you’d deal with having to leave him behind.

The only thing that helped you two face the truth was spending as much time as you could with one another, most of which was spent with you spending the night at his.

You’d hoped it would put your feelings aside — that you’d start seeing it as nothing but a summer hookup — but it didn’t. You loved each other, and that was that. And connecting the way you did each time he made love to you, your feelings only deepened for one another.

He kissed your nose, your neck, your lips. “I love you,” he said. “You know that?”

“I love you too,” you held his jaw in a way you’d gotten used to, kissing his beautiful lips.

…

The day had come. You were extremely nauseous on the way to the airport. This was too much to take.

Your parents were originally supposed to drive you there, but you ended up going in separate cars; you were with Sunoo.

He made sure he booked a ride so he’d get to sit in the backseat with you, holding your hand, trying to soothe your nerves.

It was silent in the car. You could hear only the motor of the vehicle as it passed road after road, making you feel even more sick.

Every time his eyes looked over at you, a sudden ache formed in your heart. This couldn’t be happening. You weren’t actually leaving him, were you? It had to be a dream.

“Look at me,” he whispered. His eyes were laced with worry. His fingers played with yours, trying to distract you.

“You know those curtains in my room? The ones you hate?”

You nodded, trying to remember every single feature of his while your eyes trailed over his face.

“My aunt was planning to get new ones. I wanted to know which colour you liked.”

Sunoo seemed so oblivious to the pain you felt. But in reality, he just couldn’t let you go in a bad mood. He wanted to make your last few moments together were a good memory. Even though this day was incredibly burdening. He could feel the weight in his chest.

“Beige.” You remembered the colour of his shirt the day you’d met him.

“Beige.” He smiled.

You curled up into him, loving the feeling of his arms around you. The way he cradled you so gently, it made you want to keep him there forever.

“Thank you,” you said while tears formed in your eyes.

“For what?” He nuzzled his face against your cheek, giggling.

You would miss this.

“For being so full of love.”

Sunoo pulled away slightly, wiping the tears that were on your cheeks.

“I don’t think I was like this before,” his eyes lowered, a shy smile creeping on his lips. “So I should thank you.”

His fingers traced every detail on your face, a smile still formed on his lips as his eyes examined you.

“I don’t want to see you cry. There’s so much you have to do when you get back. You’ll see your friends again, start your new year in uni. It’s everything you’ve missed these past few months.”

What would you do when you missed him?

“Okay,” you agreed, not wanting to make it as hard for him. He still wiped your tears away, and now kissed your fingertips.

You’d reached the airport in just a few minutes. You were so close to throwing up. Your knees had started to give up on you, yet somehow you still got out the car, walking hand in hand with the one you loved. He carried your bag again, making you remember that day you’d first met.

“You’re not feeling so well, love, let me carry it.” He kissed the side of your face.

Even despite feeling how his hand was in yours, you looked over your shoulder anxiously each second, making sure he was still there.

“There are still a few minutes. I’m not leaving yet.” His hands rested on your waist, one of them coming up to brush your hair out of your eyes.

Your eyes shut once more, trying to relish as much as you could of his touch. You felt a tear slip out your eyes, and you looked away.

Sunoo was trying to avoid his own emotions from taking over, which is why he tried to get you to smile.

His hand came up to your jaw, making you look back at him. “Hey,” he whispered.

“Hi,” you smiled despite the tears that escaped your eyes.

Sunoo felt himself sink deeper in his own sorrow. There was so much he wasn’t saying to prevent from making this harder for you.

“You look so pretty when you smile. That’s all I ever want you to do. How will I be able to wipe your tears when I’m this far away?”

This caused you to break down in his arms. Light sobs left you as he held you close to him.

“I’m so sorry, love,” he felt his heart sink at the sight of you sobbing. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Sunoo, I don’t wanna go,” you wept. “It hurts so much.”

“I know. I wish I could stop it.”

Your body went limp, you couldn’t form your words. This was suffocating you. You envied the people who had come here to take their loved ones home. It was so unfair.

Your parents had arrived shortly after. Sunoo kept you close, letting them know with a shake of his head that you still needed time. They gave him a nod, walking over to one of the benches.

He held onto you, not knowing how to fix any of this while you broke apart in his arms. All he could do was let you express your grief how you needed to, because it was something he — so badly — wanted to do as well. But Sunoo kept himself from doing so, preventing you from breaking even further.

After your eyes had felt too sore from crying, you heard him speaking to you.

“Baby, hey,” he spoke softly. You pulled away from his hold. “Your parents are here.” He pointed towards them.

As his hold had freed you from him, everything else that went on afterwards felt like a dream that seemed to never end.

You kissed his lips, repeatedly, trying to remember what he tasted like. Peck after slow peck, you could feel Sunoo start to quiver under your touch.

He was crying, and now you were saying sweet things to him to help him calm down.

“Your smile is so pretty,” you repeated his words. “It’s all I ever want you to do.” Your hands were cupping his face. Sobs ripped through him at that.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you more, Sunoo.”

You gave him one last kiss, it was much longer this time, not enough to let go but still bidding goodbyes for the two of you.

Sunoo watched you walk inside, feeling like he’d been ripped into shreds. He was dreading going back home, knowing how memories of you already roamed around in his room.

“I love you,” he mouthed.

“I love you, Sunoo.” Were the last words you said while looking at him, before the two of you had disappeared in different crowds, completely out of sight.

[morbidlcve]

taking nat on an arcade date and miserably failing to impress her by winning her a plushie?

an: kinda switched to a sort of carnival thingy, i hope you don't mind!!

pairings: natasha x reader

word count: 0.8k!

"It will be fun", you groan at Natasha, who is reluctant to take you to the fair that has popped up in a nearby park. "Pretty please," you whimper, giving her a look you know she can't resist. "Fine," she sighs, "Only if it makes you happy" she says her eyes flickering back to the road. She turns on her indicator and steers left to find a parking space.

When parked safely, you jump out of the car and pull her to the stalls. Finding hook-a-duck, you grab some change from your pocket and pay the old man working the game. You had three chanced to hook a duck with a certain color painted on the bottom to win a prize.

Much to your dismay, you lost all three times, making you walk away sheepishly from the old man and the cable-tied plushies to the posts. Natasha smiled sadly at you, holding your hand and guiding you towards another game.

The next game was a basketball game, to win you had to shoot five nets in a row. You tried your hardest at throwing the ball into the hoops, yet on your 5th one it bounced and fell into the slope shaped net. You were determined to win the next one.

"You know, I'm completely convinced that these games just give you a run for your money, barely anyone wins, and if they do, I wouldn't even like to know how much money is spent", you complain to Natasha as she stands in a queue for a pretzel.

She smiles at your whining and kisses you. to make you feel better. "Why do you want to win so badly my love?" she asks you, stepping forward in the line. "I want to win you a prize" you mutter looking down at your feet kicking the grass lightly.

"Oh, babe, you don't have to do that. You're the best prize I could ever want," she smirks at you, and you gasp. "That is so cheesy, Romanoff."

You try more and more stalls and continue to fail miserably. You are so close to giving up. But when Natasha spots a throwing darts at balloons game, she's quick to pull you along. "Two separate games, please," she says to the woman, smiling kindly.

The woman gives you each five darts. If you are both able to pop all five of the same color balloons, you will both win. "I bet you can't beat me," she smiles. You think she's probably right; given her history, you're most definitely doomed.

You both throw. Natasha's dart lands on a blur balloon, meaning she's got to pop four more blue balloons, and yours lands on red. She pops another blue, and you pop another red. And the same again. You feel your heart start to get sweaty, two more reds are all you need.

You don't understand how nervous you are about a game. Might it just be your competition? This whole night has been quite a humiliation for you. Pulling Natasha along with you, watching you lose at these games for two hours, it's embarrassing. You're determined to win.

You take a steady breath, adjust your stance, focus on where you want the dart to go, and throw it. You squeal when you see it land on a red. Looking over at Natasha, you see her focused on the game but a small smile is tugging at her lips.

You look down at the floor, take another deep breath, wipe your hands on your t-shirt, and pick up the final dart. Your arm rocks back and forth, getting the right movement to throw it at your target.

A little boy behind you cheers you on, and you smile, letting the dart go. The little boy runs up to you to give you a high five when it lands on the red balloon. You grin when Natasha kisses you. "I knew you could do it," she sighs against you. Natasha's dart also got blue, so you tied realistically.

Natasha chose a teenage mutant ninja turtle plushie and gave it to the little boy still dancing around over your victory. Your heart melts as you see her interact with him. He wraps his flailing arms around her and spins, them two around. Natasha chuckles down at him and says her goodbyes.

You, on the other hand, chose something that was much more Natasha. When she sees you holding something behind your back, she raises her eyebrows. You giggle as you pull out a little black widow teddy.

Her jaw hands open before giggling, taking the miniature version of herself from your hands. "Thank you baby" she laughs, wrapping you in a hug. You gently kiss her neck as you two stand there, off to the side of all the festivity in each others arms. "I suppose we should go home now" she says, holding your face, pressing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"Yeah, probably", you smile, taking her hand and heading back to the car park.

[ashleyfilm]

Seeing Clearly

Hi Everyone, this is my first fan fiction. I love Joel Miller and Pedro and I just wanted to write something about him/them. I was inspired by the many many many fantastic fics I've read and all their writers. You all are amazing. I don't know what I'm doing so, if I do something wrong, please let me know and I'll adjust. Please leave comments, I'd love to know your thoughts. And if you feel inclined to reblog, that would be so nice.

Chapter Warnings: violence, cursing, gore, blood. (There Will Be Smut, eventually) Minors - DNI

Characters: Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Reader Plus Size. I will give her some physical descriptions because she is me for this one but I've taken to writing her and You (Reader) so hopefully you can still imagine yourself. Black hair, glasses, tattoos, big body, wears dark clothes, won't stop talking, a little annoying. Joel is tv show Jackson Joel.

Story Summary: Joel just saved your life, begrudgingly. He doesn't know exactly why but he brings you back to Jackson and you ingratiate yourself into his very small circle and his life. This takes place after season 1 of TLOU and season 2 doesn't exist in my brain because no.

Chapter Summary: Joel saves your life and takes you back to Jackson.

Chapter 1: Him.

It all happens so fast. You step on that fallen fucking branch and it snaps. It feels so loud in the eerie quiet of the forest, like an explosion. Your heart almost burst in your chest, and the clicker you were hiding from, praying would pass you by, turns on the stumps left of its heels and comes towards you. Its limbs flailing, but at a speed that seems impossible. Next, you’re on the ground, pushing the things’ rotting neck and shoulders as hard as you can to keep its snapping jaws from your face, when suddenly, with the sound of a shot, the head splinters, and bloody debris falls onto the skin of your face as the clicker’s strength weakens and its weight falls against you.

Your brain can’t catch up with what is happening as the corpse is lifted off you and the sound of a man’s voice starts to come through as if you’re hearing it under water. “ANSWER ME!” You finally make out the words, “WERE YOU BIT?” You find your voice, shaky but still strong, matching the man’s intensity, “I DON’T KNOW.” You hear him sigh, almost as if he’s irritated rather than fearful. You still can’t see him clearly, the viscera of brain matter from the clicker being shot above you still blurring your vision, along with the loss of your black framed glasses that helped you see, even if the prescription wasn’t exactly right. Damnit, where are they now? You wipe your face as best you can and move your mass of black hair streaked with gray out of the way as the man, who you can now see is large, broad shouldered, only being able to make out his shape without your glasses. He grabs at your collar and moves your head from side to side to check your face and neck, and then pulls you up to a standing position. You’re weak on your legs after the, let’s face it, near fucking death experience you just had, and reach out to the man, grabbing his hand for balance, after you seem steady and not a second before, he pulls his hand back and squeezes his fist like you burned him. Okay, man, just trying not to fall over again.

“Roll up your sleeves and show me your hands and arms, both sides. NOW!” You do just that. His brow furrows at the site of the tattoos covering your arms, like he’s wondering how you got them all, and trying to figure out if it was before the world ended, or after. How old you would have been, and if you could have gotten them all before. You can see the gears turning, then it seems he finally deems you unbitten and therefore not an immediate threat, but certainly not safe. “What are you doing out here alone, where are your people?” He says while looking around him, checking his six or whatever the fuck, you wonder if he was in the military or something, he seems like a soldier but also like maybe the Jason Borne kind. You never got to see the sequel they announced before it all happened, sequels usually sucked anyway. God, you miss movies.

“What is wrong with you, kid, you got brain damage? Answer my questions,” the man says, still more irritated with you than anything else. Kid? You’re fucking 40. Whatever. “Um, no brain damage that I know of, but I have a theory that I had an undiagnosed concussion as a teenager, um, but I’m out here trying to not get eaten by clickers, or raiders, or murdered, or worse and trying not to starve. Also, no people. I have no people.” You ramble quickly and the man sighs, AGAIN. You look down and see a rough black outline in the grass below and- “Oh, thank fuck.”

You reach down, clean them off on the part of your black long sleeved shirt that doesn’t have blood or clicker gunk on it and put them on with a long sigh of relief, “Do you know how hard it was to find glasses that actually helped me see and hold onto them and not break them in this shit show of an existence…” another sigh of relief as you open your eyes to finally look at the man who saved your life and already seems like he wants to take it back from you and Holy shit. He’s hot, there’s no other way to put it. He’s the hottest person you’ve ever seen on planet earth, and you’ve just ran your goddamn smart mouth like a fucking moron this entire time. Without the decency to be quiet and nervous in front of, again, THE HOTTEST PERSON YOU HAVE EVER SEEN. You choke on your own thoughts and wide-eyed look into his eyes, they’re chocolate brown and filled with life and emotion, he’s gruff and scary but his eyes…god, they betray him. His hair is just below his ears, curled and brown with slices of gray throughout. His face is worn, scarred, like he’s been through shit, you know because you have too. His nose is like a roman god’s, aquiline and fucking beautiful. He’s got a patchy beard the same two colors as his curly hair and his lips are full and pouty with a mustache and you wonder how it would scratch if he put his mouth on your neck. Wait, what the fuck. I mean he’s hot but instantly thinking of him kissing your neck… relax bitch.

He clears his throat, looking at you like you have two heads and sighs. He really likes to sigh. Then he finally speaks in a stern but soft voice, “Okay, look, don’t know why, but I believe you when you say you’re alone, your eyes look like you haven’t eaten in a few days, that true?” You nod and he seems relieved that you don’t start speaking again, so you stick with it and stay silent. His southern drawl continues, “I come from a community. If you want, I’ll take ya there. Food, shelter, medical. You gotta contribute and you gotta behave. Might want to watch that smart mouth of yours until people start trustin’ you, or maybe forever.” You look at him, tears threatening to fall, turning away to shield him or yourself, you’re not sure. Food. Shelter. Medical. My god how is this possible. He takes this time to look away from you and retrieve jerky from his pack which he holds out for you, and you take it. “Thank you...” you say in the quietest voice you think you’ve ever used realizing you don’t know his name. “Joel, name’s Joel Miller.” He nods and points his head in the direction he wants you to walk. Looking at your hair he says, “C’mon Ash,” and he follows just behind you. What you don’t see is the uptick of his lip on one side that reveals a dimple you’ve yet to witness on his beautiful face and his eyes linger on you for far too long when he should be watching your surroundings. That’s what you don’t see.

[onlyhereforthestories]

Markets, Memories and Mistletoe (Ashley Sanchez x Reader)

Day 3! I'm in Prague woooo Christmas markets here I come, so it's only fitting this is the fic out today! Enjoy!

The festive lights of the Christmas market sparkled above as Ashley guided you through the bustling stalls, her eyes alight with excitement. She’d insisted you bundle up for the cold evening and surprised you with a trip to this holiday wonderland after training. Even with the chilly air and your glove covered fingers, she held your hand tightly, swinging it between you as you wandered into the heart of the market. There was something about being surrounded by the scents of roasted chestnuts, cinnamon, and pine that was utterly enchanting. The air was crisp, carrying the whispers of laughter from families bundled in scarves and mittens, their breath visible in the frosty glow of the lights. It was a symphony of winter's delights, a scene that painted the quiet joy of the season on every passerby's face.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she grinned, nudging you toward the food stands. Ashley’s excitement was contagious, and she led you straight to a vendor selling caramelized nuts. She bought a small paper cone of them, handing you the warm treat and leaning in to steal a few for herself.

“Good, right?” she asked, her mouth full as she looked at you with sparkling eyes.

“Delicious,” you agreed, popping a few into your mouth. She watched your reaction with a grin, looking a little too pleased with herself.

The two of you drifted from one stall to another, Ashley pointing out everything from handmade ornaments to cozy scarves, stopping at almost every stand to admire the unique holiday trinkets. At one booth, a display of delicate, glass-blown ornaments caught her eye, and she insisted on getting one shaped like a tiny soccer ball to remember your night together. “It’s going on our tree,” she declared proudly, tucking it carefully into her bag.

As you strolled around the busy market, you came upon an outdoor ice-skating rink set up in the middle of the festivities. People of all ages glided across, bundled up and laughing as holiday music played in the background. Ashley looked at you with a raised brow, her hand tightening around yours. “What do you say? Up for a few spins?”

You both rented skates and made your way onto the rink. Ashley, naturally competitive, started off with a flourish, attempting to show off her skating skills by gliding backward with ease. But just a few seconds later, she lost her balance and wobbled, her arms flailing as she tried to stay upright.

“Need a little help?” you teased, reaching out to steady her.

“Who, me?” she grinned, pretending to regain her composure. “I’ve totally got this.” But her footing was far from steady, and as you held onto her hands, she finally admitted, “Okay, maybe just a little help.”

You spent the next few minutes holding hands as you made slow laps around the rink. Every time one of you wobbled, the other was there to stabilise and offer support, both of you laughing so hard that even the chilly air couldn’t keep you from the warm feeling it created. After a while, Ashley seemed to forget all about showing off and just focused on keeping up with you, her smile never fading.

When you finally made your way off the ice, cheeks flushed and out of breath, you both collapsed onto a nearby bench, catching your breath while you shared a cup of hot cocoa piled high with whipped cream. She handed you the cup to take the first sip, watching you with that soft, adoring look she always got when she thought you weren’t paying attention.

“Thanks for coming with me,” she said quietly, bumping your shoulder. “I don’t know… Christmas markets always seemed more fun with someone else.”

“Same,” you replied, bumping her back, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the hot cocoa. “This is perfect, Ash.”

After a few more sips of cocoa, she led you back into the heart of the market, where you spotted a sprig of mistletoe hanging from one of the vendor stalls. Without missing a beat, Ashley glanced up at it, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she leaned closer to you.

“So… there’s some mistletoe right here,” she said, as if it were the most natural observation in the world.

“Oh, really? Didn’t notice,” you teased, feigning obliviousness.

She let out a playful groan, her hands on your shoulders as she guided you directly beneath the mistletoe. “Come on! It’s tradition!” She was laughing but blushing, her nose red from the cold and her cheeks from the teasing. Then, her voice softened, her hand brushing a lock of hair back from your face. “And besides, I want to kiss you.”

Without waiting for a response, she closed the space between you, her lips soft and warm against yours, making the bustling market fade into the background. It was a sweet, lingering kiss that left you both smiling like lovesick teens, right there under the holiday lights. Ashley pulled back slightly, her fingers still brushing against your cheek. Her eyes sparkled with more than just the reflection of the lights, they held a kind of quiet contentment that made your heart flutter. The sounds of the market seemed distant now, as if they were nothing more than background music to your own little world.

"See? That wasn’t so bad," she said, her voice teasing but soft.

You smiled, still feeling the warmth of her lips against yours. "You were right. Plus, I wanted to kiss you too."

Ashley grinned mischievously and nudged you with her shoulder. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

Before either of you could say anything else, a group of children ran by, their laughter contagious. They were bundled up in bright scarves and mittens, their energy spilling over into the crisp evening air. Ashley’s gaze followed them for a moment, a thoughtful look crossing her face.

“I used to come here every year when I was little,” she said softly, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “My parents would bring me, and we’d go ice skating and drink hot cocoa like we just did. It was always my favourite part of Christmas. It always feels like time slows down a little, like everything is a little bit brighter. I think that’s the magic of it all, you know, making those memories that last a lifetime. That you can look back on years later and be filled with that warmth that only happy memories can provide. Its why I wanted to do this, I wanted those memories to look back on with you too.”

You squeezed her hand, the simple gesture speaking volumes. “I get it. I feel the same way when I’m with you. Making memories wasn’t something I really had growing up but, I’m so glad I get to make them with you now. Thank you for always showing the light in life.”

Ashley’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, everything around you seemed to fade away. The market, the cold, the holiday hustle, they were all just a quite murmur now. It was just you two, here making this, as perfect as can be, memory.

Her smile softened, and she leaned her head against your shoulder. “I’m really happy you’re here with me, you know? This feels like one of those memories I’m going to hold on to forever.”

Your heart swelled, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I’m glad I’m here too, Ash. This is one of my favourite nights.”

There was a brief silence, comfortable and filled with the warmth only shared moments like this could create. Then, with a playful nudge, Ashley straightened up, her eyes twinkling once more.

“Alright, enough of the sappy shit," she said, grinning. "We still have a whole market to explore. And I haven’t even shown you the best part.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Best part?”

“Oh, yeah.” She pointed toward a stall in the distance, where twinkling fairy lights framed a giant gingerbread house. "You haven’t had the gingerbread cookies yet. Trust me, they’re legendary. You’ll be dreaming about them for weeks.”

Laughing, you followed her toward the stall, both of you slipping into the festive crowd. The cold wind still whipped at your face, but it felt far less biting now, with Ashley’s presence keeping you warm and the evenings possibilities stretched out before you.

As you approached the gingerbread stand, Ashley reached out, her hand brushing against yours once more. "Let’s make this night unforgettable,” she said, and her grin was the only invitation you needed.

[perlelune]

Oxytocin | Coriolanus Snow | iii.

One act of kindness from a peacekeeper may be your salvation or your doom. Possibly both.

Warnings: NON-CON, Blackmail, District 8 Reader, Stalking, Kidnapping

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Staccato breaths mingle with the wild drumming of your heart as Coriolanus takes you to a place unknown, so far from where you live on the outskirts of town.

The freezing air sneaks under your skirt, causing your legs to tremble. Wherever you look, you’re surrounded by darkness, a cluster of clouds cloaking the moon now.

It reminds you how utterly alone you are.

Your tears soak the blue shirt of his uniform but he doesn’t seem to care. In your current upside down position, you can’t see his expression and it scares you even more. 

You wonder what he’s thinking, why he’s doing this and, most importantly, what his plans are for you.

“Where are you taking me?” you inquire, your wavering voice dripping fear.

“It’s a surprise,” he announces, readjusting you on his shoulders.

You don’t like his tone, not one bit. It’s taunting with a sliver of resentment. 

Somehow, you pissed him off at the bar and he wants to make you pay for it. Punish you for…for what exactly? It eludes you. All you did was dance with some guy and Coriolanus saw red.

You knew the peacekeeper was strange, but this is a step beyond that. He stole you. In public. It’s insane, deranged.

Lights finally pierce through the veil of the night, twinkling through the hazy obscurity. A faint shred of hope glimmers inside you. If there are people here, maybe you could shout for help, appeal to basic human decency. Back at the bar, no one would help you.

Part of you understands. This is the kind of fear the Capitol has instilled in everyone in Panem.

Still, a hint of bitterness lingers inside you. Not even Yara lifted a finger to help you. You thought she was your friend. But you suppose even that is asking for too much for someone like you. Even that is a luxury far beyond your means. 

You confine tears. You do not wish to give the peacekeeper the satisfaction of seeing you fall apart. 

He enters a building with bright lanterns scattered at its front. The smell of incense, cigarette and expensive perfume engulfs your senses, so overwhelming you can hardly breathe. A woman appears in your line of sight. She’s strikingly gorgeous. Glossy, raven curls frame her heart-shaped face and heavy makeup adorns her delicate features. She wears a low-cut red dress that must cost at least two months of your wages. 

You frown, dull remembrance tugging at your brain.

Something about her is vaguely familiar. 

Then it dawns on you, and your stomach coils in dread.

You’ve seen her before, at a bar in the northeastern part of town. She was working her charms on a man who slipped her a bag of coins before they disappeared together.

The urge to puke tickles the back of your throat. A brothel. Coriolanus has taken you to a brothel.

“Is our room ready?” he addresses the woman, impatience bleeding through his tone.

“It’s all been prepared like you asked, Mr. Snow,” she trills.

“Help me, please…” you beseech. 

She tilts her head, a wide grin unfurling on her crimson-painted lips. 

“She’s a pretty thing, your lass. Almost as pretty as you.”

Coriolanus reaches inside his pocket. The clinking of coins resonates as he drops a tiny purse in the woman’s hand.  “Don’t disturb us,” he instructs.

She grabs the purse and beams at him.

“Wasn’t planning to.” Her cheerful inflection makes your stomach sink. “Our clients’ privacy is of the utmost priority.” 

“Let me go you mon-”

The woman giggles. “She chirps an awful lot, that bird of yours.”

He heaves out a deep sigh, both weary and resigned. “She needs discipline, which is exactly why we’re here.”

His words do nothing to reassure you. You thrash again, legs flailing and hands reaching for any parts of him you can. He groans but doesn’t release you. He stomps upstairs.

Your mind runs wild as your fear grows. Soon, the blond reaches an ornate black door. He kicks it open with his boot. Once inside, he tosses you onto the canopy bed in the middle of the room. He slams the door closed and locks it. Your blood runs cold.

Without much thought, you clamber off the bed, awkwardly getting to your feet and heading straight for the door.

He grabs the back of your neck and yanks you away from the door. A strangled shout leaps from your throat.

Coriolanus peers down at you, bent in an uncomfortable position beneath him.

A look of mild annoyance decorates his handsome face.

“Still trying to run away? You never learn your lesson, pretty bird.”

“Let me go,” you croak, your pleading eyes searching for pity in his icy gaze. But you’re only greeted by contempt. Tears swell under your eyelids. “Why are you doing this to me?”

He snorts, like he can’t believe you’d ask something so ludicrous. He narrows his eyes at you, the fingers clamped around your nape squeezing harder.

“Why? Because you’ve been ungrateful,” he hisses.

Befuddlement trickles within you. “Ungrateful?”

Coriolanus’ jaw ticks.

“I help you, I save you.” A storm gathers in his enraged tone. “I do so much for you but you bat your lashes at some pathetic district scum?”

You cower beneath his accusing stare, in disbelief at what you’re hearing. Your lips clamp shut, your mouth quivering before you retaliate, “I’m district scum too.” You squint at him. “I’m district scum too so what do you even want with me, Coriolanus?”

He chuckles darkly, wrenching your head so far backwards, your neck starts singing in pain. He sinks to one knee, scrutinizing your shaking form on the floor. 

“What do I want with you?” he echoes. His hold on your neck loosens to latch around your jaw instead. His scorching blue gaze dives into yours as his voice dips, whisper-soft. “Tell me, sweet bird, am I that repulsive to you?” Puzzled, you blink. Why does he even care what you think of him? 

Your silence has him jostle your frame, as if trying to shake a reply out of you.

“Answer me,” he growls.

An hasty, breathless response tumbles out of you. “No.”

You hardly had to think, needing to simply utter the truth. Of course, Coriolanus is handsome, a feast for the eyes like a prince from a fairytale, with his smooth skin, free of any blemish, bright blue eyes and angular features. It’d be hard to deny how beautiful he is.

…But he’s not a prince, and you're not in a fairytale.

As your eyes lower, his fingers dig harshly into your cheeks.

“Look at me.” There’s a sharp edge of authority to his words. You lift your gaze, too terrified to dare divert your attention from him. He continues. “Do you find my face disgusting, my voice unbearable?” His mouth twitches. “Maybe it’s my smell. Is it atrocious?”

Tears dangle at your lashes as you mutter, “No.”

“Then why?” A blend of dismay and anger paints his features. “Why do you always run away from me? Why don’t you just let me take care of you?”

“I don’t need you. I never needed you.”

His orbs flare dangerously. You shriek as he hauls you from the floor and hurls you on the bed. 

“This is where you’re wrong. You live because of me. Your cousin lives because of me.” He begins removing the blue vest of his uniform, his motions irate and rushed. A lump nestles in your throat as you watch him zip down his pants next. “You owe me, and it’s about time you show me some gratitude.”

This time your attempt to flee is curtailed by a steely grip on your ankle. A knife-like sensation pierces your limb as he twists it cruelly. The pain knocks the wind from your lungs. You freeze and go limp over the sheets.

The blond’s forehead puckers, a contrite look flickering over his features.

“You’re making me do this. I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re making me.”

He squeezes your shoulder and forces you to sit up at the edge of the bed. The air chills around you as he tugs down his white boxers, revealing his long, thick girth, glistening at the tip. You gulp the lump in your throat.

Your fingers clasp around the end of the bed as you gape at his erect cock. The vein along the shaft seems to taunt you. Cupping the side of your face, he nudges his tip against your wobbling lips.

“Open up,” he orders. He sneers when you don’t move an inch, “So stubborn…I can’t tell if I love or hate that about you, pretty bird.”

“Please…” you mumble, your glistening eyes rising to meet his.

He purrs, lust clouding his sky blue orbs. His thumb skims over your bottom lip.

“You’re even prettier when you beg me, birdie.” His tone mellows as he offers, “Open your mouth and I’ll make sure you never want for anything.”

Your mouth remains adamantly sealed. 

Studying you, he ponders, “I’ve always found the punishment for thievery needlessly harsh.” He unleashes a dragged out, ponderous exhale. “For shame, I’m not sure your cousin will last very long here without you.” Your heart threatens to spill from your chest. A wicked, lopsided smile blooms on his lips as he fondles your cheek. “It’s a tough world, especially for a little girl all on her own, wouldn’t you say?”

Your chest collapses at his blatant threat. Even if your own fate mattered little to you, you can’t imagine Tilly fending for herself here. You’re all she has now and if she can’t rely on you, who will she be able to rely on?

Besides, she might be better now but she always had a fragile health. Someone needs to look out for her. And it has to be you.

It’s as if Coriolanus could hear every thought bouncing in your head, smugness oozing off him as he observes you. 

Your lips part slowly. Victory illuminates his features.

He pumps his shaft, excitement bouncing in his orbs.

As he pushes his tip into your mouth, a hum of pleasure vibrates in his chest. You feel it through your own body and a shudder passes through you. 

You quiver as you swirl your tongue around his leaking tip, silently wishing he’ll be quick about it. Maybe if you do it well enough, it won’t last long and he’ll leave you be.

Still, embarrassment pools in your gut. You’re letting a peacekeeper treat you like a common whore. You doubt your dignity will ever recover from this ordeal.

He grabs both sides of your face, impatient, pushing more of himself down your throat. Your mouth aches at the corners, the size of him nearly too much to bear. 

“Fuck, your mouth feels good,” he rasps, his Adam’s apple bobbing. 

He slides his entire length down your throat until it tickles the back of it. You fight your gag reflex. The salty taste of him spreads on your tongue as you choke on his cock, air flailing in your lungs. He licks his lips, gently stroking your tear-stained cheeks.

“Good girl”, he praises.

He starts fucking your mouth, bruising your throat with each forceful thrust. Tears and spit mingle around your mouth as you take him as well as you can. You grow numb, eyes half-seeing as you let him use you.

Coriolanus’s throaty moans fill the room. The echo of his blunt thrusting reaches your ears. You feel sick. 

You close your eyes, hoping to forget, but all you can see is him, hear is him, feel is him.

You wish you could climb out of your own skin.

His pounding turns more feral. Cradling the back of your head, he shoves himself more urgently inside you. His chest ripples as he grunts.

You weep, suffocating on his length. Your stifled cries join the lewd sounds he makes. Your fists tighten around the sheets as your vision dims.

His motions become sloppier as he snarls, a look of sheer bliss decorating his handsome face.

His cock twitches, his eyes rolling back. A warm stickiness glazes the inside of your mouth. A groan leaves him as ropes of him pour down your throat. When you try to pull back, he firmly keeps you there, framing your face so you can’t escape.

The excess trickles on your chin and neck.

You shudder, quaking sobs wracking your body.

A wet sound resonates when his softening cock finally exits your mouth. You inhale a wide lungful, thankful to be able to breathe again but disgusted by the bittersweet aftertaste still coating your tongue. You wish you could bleach the inside of your mouth many times over. 

He collects your tears with his thumbs, his smile growing as he basks in the sight of the mess he made on your face.

“I’m going to take such good care of you, my sweet bird,” he croons.

You plunge your hands in the frigid water, roughly rubbing the clothes against one another. You focus on a willful beer stain that won’t come off no matter how much you try. Frustration blooms inside you as the brown lingers on the beige fabric.

You grimace. This was one of your nicer blouses. Now it’s forever ruined, tainted beyond recovery.

Yara wrings her skirt above the bucket, her attentive eyes clinging to you. When she offered to do laundry together this morning, you expected a plethora of questions. Instead, she spent the last hour mirroring your silence.

You’re grateful. While her presence soothes you, there are many topics you’d rather not broach. One in particular. A memory you went to great lengths to bury but won’t let itself be erased. You feel branded, like you don’t belong to yourself anymore.

It’s a ghastly prospect, one you have no desire to mull over too deeply. 

You’d rather focus on laundry today. Washing, rinsing, drying and repeating. The tedious routine keeps the scary thoughts at bay. At least for a little while.

“Tilly’s doing a lot better.”

Yara’s abrupt words stagger you. Your head snaps up. Your focus veers to your younger cousin. She’s sitting by the fire playing noughts and crosses with her friend. The two little girls are wrapped up in the thin lines they’re drawing with white chalk on the stone floor, concentration etched on their small features.

She has been doing better. Much better than she has the entire year, though it guts you to admit it. She can laugh, play, run and be a normal kid.

…And you have the little care packages Coriolanus has been dropping on your doorstep to thank for that.

It stuns you that he even found out where you live so easily. You thought you were careful.

Now you don’t even feel safe in your own modest home.

There is nowhere to hide from the peacekeeper.

While he hasn’t shown up in person, his presence hovers over every aspect of your life.

You live because of me.

“Yeah,” you reply tritely.

Hands going still in the water, Yara observes you for a while, hesitation wrinkling her features. 

Eventually she dips her head, averting her gaze as she mumbles, “I shouldn’t have let him take you away.”

Guilt bleeds through her tone. Sighing, you peer at her. While you resented being on your own, you’re also keenly aware there is nothing she could have done.

“It’s not your fault,” you reassure. “I’d be scared too. I am scared,”

Though sadness still glistens in her eyes, she nods.

“Did he…” She trails off, sucking in a deep breath as if to gather the courage to speak again. Her gaze meets yours head on. “D-Did he hurt you?”

Goosebumps erupt at the base of your spine, spreading outward as your mouth trembles. 

“In a way,” you answer belatedly.

Shock covers her features.

“We should tell Commander Crane…”

You scowl. “We can’t.”

Not only does the ruthless Commander of District 8 harbors little to no sympathy for anyone’s plight, he may be more concerned about your thievery charges than any misdeed carried out by one of his Peacekeepers.

Such are things in District 8. Unjust and bereft of any morsel of hope.

“But we have to do something, report him,” she insists.

Irritation nips at you. You wish she’d drop it. It’s not like anyone will come to your rescue. You’re not some damsel in distress, a precious lady from the Capitol in trouble. 

You’re no one. Some might even say district garbage.

“Yara, he’s some rich kid from the Capitol, and I’m…we’re just…” The words shrivel on your tongue, hopelessness cresting within you. “It’s best to leave it alone, trust me.”

“But…”

“It'll only get worse if I fight him,” you snap.

A puzzled expression appears on your friend’s face. “Worse in what way?”

In what way indeed? You’ve no idea how far Coriolanus Snow is willing to go to torment and toy with you. There’s a glint of madness in his blue eyes which haunts your nightmares.

You go quiet. 

You pick up the drenched blouse from the bucket of water, wringing it until your hands start to hurt. 

Yara’s soft voice rises, encouragement laced in her tone.

“Hey, I’m sure he’ll get bored at some point, move on,” she says. “I mean he has to, right?”

She smiles at you and you return it.

“Right.”

But deep inside, you’re not so sure, dire thoughts of pretty boys with devilish smiles swaying in your mind.

[apollo-the-fourth]

celebratory mini ramble after passing both my exams :]

cw ♚ afab! sub! volks, amab! dom! reader, mentions of breeding, afab terminology used to describe genitalia

You don’t know how you both end up here but Volks is howling, whining like a pathetic pup because gods your cock is huge and crushing his fucking womb. His legs are flailing when you hold him down in a mating press, pleading for you to hold it in because there was no doubt he’d get pregnant at this rate judging from the amount of cum overflowing from his puffy cunt. His toes curl, his mouth forming into an ‘o’ shape when you shoot your load into his cervix and you swear you see hearts flash in his eyes.