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perlelune · 11 months ago

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no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | v.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

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

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Grandma’am’s dissonant notes fill your room as you lie on the bed. The old woman’s wobbly soprano has been the background noise to your awakening this early morning.

At least it diverted you from your dire thoughts.

You rose with low spirits, defeated. You didn’t dare leave the cover of the warm blankets.

You’ve stared at the ceiling for so long, the flower patterns have morphed into smudges of pale color swirling in your vision. It’s all you did the entire morning. Stare at the ceiling while awful thoughts collide in your head. Perhaps for hours. You’re not sure. Time has been a foggy concept as of late.

You can’t even remember when everything started spinning out of control. The beginning of your unraveling.

The day before Coryo held you as you wept in his arms. For a while, in the warmth of his embrace, the uproar in your head fell silent.

Now it’s all noise again. Chaos. You have no desire to climb out of bed, face the day. Perhaps it makes you a bad guest. But hiding is easier. So it’s exactly what you elect to do.

Hiding until it becomes an impossibility.

Or until the door knocks in that case.

The sound startles you.

You don’t answer. Instead, you burrow yourself further beneath the sheets.

The knock starts again. Stubbornly, you ignore it.

“I’m coming in,” a familiar, airy voice announces.

The creaking of the door reaches you and your brows crumple. A slight weight plops on the mattress, making it dip under you. You freeze, willing yourself to remain still.

A delicate perfume hangs in the air. Guilt seeps through you. It’s not like she’s done anything to you. If anything, she’s been kind. It’s about the hot layer of shame that has grown thick roots into your being.

Her gentle lilt flutters above you.

“I won’t move until you talk to me; I’m worried.”

You gnaw on your lip. The seconds stretch to minutes, arduously long, seemingly endless as she remains on your bed. It dawns on you how deadly serious the older of the Snow cousins is. She will not go away until you speak to her.

Besides, your mother’s voice echoes somewhere in your head. Your behavior is ill-fitted for a lady. Here you are, a guest in someone else’s house, acting like a petulant child.

Though you balk at the prospect, it’s time to face the world.

You huff out a quiet sigh under your breath before peeking above the blanket.

“Tigris,” you mumble.

Her thin blonde brows are pinched.

“You missed breakfast,” she notes. She tilts her head, scrutinizing you as her frown deepens. “First dinner, now breakfast. It’s becoming a habit.”

Concern glimmers in her honey orbs. Your chest squeezes. The last thing you want is for someone else to feel terrible. You push the blanket further away from you, sitting up as a contrite smile tugs your lips.

“Sorry.”

Tigris’ slender fingers latch onto your forearm.

“Don’t apologize. Just keep me company today.”

You attempt to deflect, “What about Coryo?”

The blonde releases a deep exhale, crossing her arms in frustration. You’ve gazed upon a similar crease on Coriolanus’ face before.

“He barely has time for me these days. Between his work with Dr Gaul, the University and…” A small smile plays on her lips as her voice trails off. “You of course.” Your cheeks heat at her implication. Of course, you’re aware of Coriolanus’ dedication to showing up for you as of late. But it never occurred to you that it could impede on Tigris’ time with him. It saddens you.

From what you recall of the glimpses of them you caught growing up, there was a time the two Snow cousins were inseparable. After all, ever since they were young, Tigris has been everything to him. A mother, a sister, a best friend. It was clear on Coriolanus’ face too. Fondness was etched on his face whenever he looked at his cousin.

She leans over you, her tone pleading.

“Come on, I really need a friend, and something tells me you do too.”

Shoulders sagging in surrender, you concede, “I’ll get dressed.”

She leaps to her feet, a victorious smile breaking onto her face.

“I’ll have the maid bring you some food before we go,” she sings. “When’s the last time you ate anyways?”

You purse your lips, shocked at the realization of how long it’s been since your last meal, eating having toppled to the bottom of your list of priorities the last two days.

You give an honest reply.

“I…can’t remember.”

Concern scrunches Tigris’ angular features once more. She then takes her leave and you glumly get ready for the day.

Food is brought up to your room. You nibble down every bite of cheese, bread and eggs until you’re full.

You find the massive trunk Coriolanus had the staff carry up to your room. You marvel as you peer inside, rummaging in search of an outfit for the day. His thoughtfulness astounds you. You don’t deserve a friend like Coryo.

Once you’ve removed your night robe, it pools at your feet. Your stomach sinks at the sight of your bare form. Bruises still speckle your skin. They are starting to fade but the ones on your hips and thighs are still quite prominent. The thought of Coryo touching you this way crosses your mind and you shudder.

You know you shouldn’t feel this way.

It’s like your friend said. It’s better that it was him than some stranger with nefarious intentions. After all, you were both drunk. You both didn’t mean for it to happen. It’s obvious Coriolanus is as inconvenienced by this as you are.

You should move on, let the incident scatter amidst the unfortunate mistakes of youth. It’s what common sense dictates. Otherwise guilt will chew you to the bone.

But you can’t.

Every time you think of that night, you’re unsettled, an inkling of wrong humming through you.

It haunts you. Though you wished it didn’t.

The remainder of the morning is spent with Tigris. The two of you scour the city in search of various fabrics and items her boss, Fabricia Whatnot, asks her to collect.

It’s a nice change of scenery and you welcome it.

You even get to see Tigris work on a dress, a magnificent wedding gown whose sight stirs a bittersweet feeling within you. It reminds you that your own dress was ruined, a matter you’ve yet to solve.

…If there’ll even still be a wedding.

As the afternoon sun crests to a scorching peak in the bright blue sky, she offers to stop by a café which you readily accept. You both sit beneath a wide umbrella on the outdoor terrace.

You take small bites of your petit fours, the sugar melting on your tongue providing much needed comfort.

“Does your grandmother do this every morning?”

Tigris’ lips pause above the rim of her porcelain cup, her honey gaze widening at your question. Realization then lights up her face.

“Oh, the singing? Yes, almost.” A fond smile spreads onto her thin lips. “Grandma’am likes to reminisce about the glory days of our family, you know…before the war.”

Your brows furrow.

The glory days...

Could the days before the war truly be referred to as that? The people of the Districts were forced to serve the ever-growing needs of the Capitol citizens, reaping no benefits from their hard work and being kept docile by the perpetual threat of execution.

Exactly like now.

You hardly see the glory in that. Maybe for the victors, the ones who get to stand atop the mountain while others try to claw their way up from the bottom until their hands bleed.

But, as usual, you don’t voice your treasonous thoughts, simply nodding in response.

Tigris and you both relish the comfortable silence for a while. She doesn’t urge you to talk and you’re grateful for that. Idle talk is an arduous task when constant worries gnaw at your mind.

While she may not know the depth of your predicament, you appreciate that Tigris picks up enough not to prod.

“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” she says. “Quiet. I like to come here when I need a moment to myself.”

Your gaze roams across the luxurious garden near the café. You get lost in admiring the pretty flowers and the swan fountain. It reminds you of your own garden, your beloved roses, probably withering from neglect. You’ll need to tend to them soon.

“It’s beautiful,” you admit. You nibble on your bottom lip before your eyes find hers. “I’m sorry for being…difficult this morning.”

Tigris’ shoulders heave as she replies nonchalantly, “It’s quite alright.” Mirth sparkles in her amber orbs. “I’m sorry for dragging you all over Panem to run those errands.”

You give a small smile. “It’s fine. I enjoyed the distraction.”

You look down and fiddle with your napkin, arranging it in different positions several times in your lap.

“Is something the matter?”

Tigris’ abrupt inquiry makes your head snap up.

You hesitate beneath her compassionate stare. After a long, quiet minute, your shoulders slump.

“I just loathe that I am such a burden to you and Coryo,” you mumble.

Tigris tilts her head, genuine confusion scrunching her features. “A burden? Don’t be ridiculous. You could never be that to me...” Her slender hand reaches across the table to drape over yours. “And even less to Coryo.”

A wry chuckle leaves your lips. “Well, he’s got better things to do than taking care of me.”

She shakes her head.

“Taking care of you is a pleasure to my cousin.”

You wince. “I very much doubt that.”

Tigris’ head lowers, her hand rising to her mouth to dampen her chortle.

“What’s so funny?” you ask, frowning.

“It’s just…you really don’t see how much you’re changing him?” She studies you momentarily before heaving out a long exhale. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course,” you reply immediately. She smiles.

“I haven’t seen him focus on something other than his ambitions in so long…not the way he focuses on you.”

Your jaw hangs slack at her admission.

She pauses, seeming to mull over her next words. “Coryo…when he returned from his service in District 12, he was so different. I thought all the warmth in him was gone, that he was becoming like my uncle.” A distant, sad look dims her eyes. “A cold, calculated man. But when he’s around you…" Fondness illuminates her face while she gauges you. "I don’t know, it's almost like he’s back to his old self. The little boy I knew, sweet and caring. My little Coryo.”

Her fingers tighten around yours as she beams. “You’re good for him, so don’t worry about being a burden. It couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Tears of relief almost spill from your eyes at that but you swallow them.

Instead, you return her smile. It may have been at the behest of your dead brother but you couldn’t deny how comforting Coriolanus’ presence has been, his friendship the silver lining above somber clouds. Coryo is the only one who gladly listens when you talk about Sejanus and how much it aches that he’s not there anymore, his passing having left a void that can never be filled. It’s too painful for your mother and your dad’s in plain denial. If it weren’t for Coryo, grief would have eaten you alive, you’re certain of it.

It’s hard to picture your life without him in it now, in some form or another. In fact, you don’t think you even want to. You may have lost a brother but the gods were merciful and granted you another.

After you leave the café, you and Tigris take a leisurely stroll through the Capitol’s streets. The talk you had with her rejuvenated you. For the first time since that awful night at Clemensia’s, you feel a bit more like yourself.

All is well until someone strides out of a bakery, someone you know too well. The sight of the familiar face freezes you in your spot.

Your eyes then lock from across the street. You watch the recognition dawn on his face.

He starts making his way towards you.

A surge of panic bleeds inside you. You briskly grab Tigris’ hand.

“Let’s go,” you urge, already pulling her in the other direction.

“Wait…what?” Befuddled, Tigris lets you drag her along as you start racing through the streets.

You don’t dare look behind you, your heart thundering inside your chest.

You dive into a busy street. The crowd cloaks you as you zigzag between bodies. Strangers give you dirty looks but you don’t care, focused on running as far away from who you saw as you can.

You and Tigris end up in a narrow alleyway, catching your breaths behind a dumpster.

You shoot worried glances at the other end of the alleyway. You lost him, you realize. A strange blend of emotions fills you, every single one carving a larger hole inside your chest.

“Who was that?” Tigris asks between uneven breaths.

Shame swells within you as your gaze lands on the cobblestoned floor.

“My fiancé,” you reply.

“Hey.” Your head lifts from your knees, your eyes traveling to the blond head peeking through the slight opening of the door.

Concerned cobalt orbs study you. You avoid his scrutiny by focusing on a random spot on the bed sheets. He enters the room. As he sits at the edge of the bed, you bring your legs closer to your chest.

His soft tone breaks through your hazy train of thoughts. “Tigris told me what happened.”

You unleash a shaky breath before finally meeting his gaze.

“I’m a coward,” you say.

His hand rises to cradle your jaw, his thumb collecting an errant tear you didn’t even realize had spilled over. “You’re not a coward,” he assures.

Your lip wobbles. Of course you are. You saw William, your own fiancé, and ran away from him. Who does that? An idiot and a coward. But you didn’t know what else to do. You panicked. When his beautiful green eyes locked with yours, all you could think about was those same eyes filled with hate and betrayal if he ever learnt what you did.

“I am,” you affirm.

Coriolanus strokes the side of your face, his tone growing firmer, “It’s a tough situation…”

His sentence is halted by a loud banging downstairs.

Your eyes go wide.

“What’s that?”

The faint echo of your name being yelled from outside reaches you. Your heart leaps as Coryo’s features go taut, his jaw clenching.

His lips stretch in a tense smile.

“I'll go check. Stay here.”

“I’ll come.”

You jump from bed and make a beeline for the door. He tries to placate you by holding your shoulders, blocking the exit with his towering frame.

“Princess, I don’t think-”

You glower at him. You can’t run forever.

“You can’t stop me, Coryo.”

Tension hangs in the air for some minutes, thick and electric, before he relents with a deep sigh, “Alright.”

Heart in your throat, you take slow steps down the stairs. Coryo trails behind you in silence.

Your name’s uttered again, the door rattling as he bangs against it. You flinch.

Trembling feet drag to the front door. Your hand spreads over the wooden carving. You take a deep breath before hesitant words stumble out of you.

“William, you can’t be here.”

“I love you. Of course I should be here.”

Unwavering determination vibrates in his tone. Guilt flares within you. You swallow the impending rush of tears. You don’t deserve him. He’s good, kind, honest…and you’re a liar.

“I saw you with that girl, Snow’s cousin. Talk to me, baby, please.”

“I just need a little time...alone.”

“What? Is this about the wedding preparations? Is it your parents?” He sounds confused and hurt. Your heart wrenches. You’re hurting him. It’s exactly what you meant to avoid. “Whatever it is, we can fix it. We can face anything as long as we’re together.”

The desperation thickens in his voice.

“Come out. I just want to see your face, please.”

“I…”

Your fingers hover above the gold door knob. But your hand is snatched by long, stern digits before it can fully wrap around the handle. Coryo tugs you away from the door. You gasp as his deep voice resonates in the lobby.

“You need to leave her be. She told you she needs space, William,” he says.

“Snow!” A mirthless chuckle ripples from the other side. “I knew it had to be you somehow.” You leap as the hinges of the door shake as William’s fists slam against it once more. “What did you do to her?”

Tears well up in your eyes.

“Right now, it’s you that’s hurting her,” Coriolanus says, his fingers curling around yours. “What kind of husband-to-be doesn’t respect his future wife’s wishes?”

Your brows collide. You wish he didn’t speak like that. After all, you’re the one at fault. But fear keeps the words chained to your throat.

“I just need to see her, please,” William insists.

Your stomach lurches. This is insane. Your fiancé is on the other side of the door and you won’t let him see you.

Maybe William’s right. Maybe talking to him will fix everything.

You sniffle and wipe your tears. You take a solid stride towards the door again, fingers ready to open it.

“I think I should, just for a few minutes.”

Your decision is made but Coryo’s hand cinches around your wrist. This time his hold is much firmer, on the cusp of painful in fact.

You grimace as he draws you away from the door, near the stairs.

He bends over you to whisper hotly, “To tell him what, princess?” Angling your chin upward, he sighs. “That you gave me something you denied him all this time? After just a few drinks?” Heat nestles in your cheeks. It is true. Both you and him got near that point so often, but you were adamant about waiting for your wedding night. It was your excuse every time. You doubt he’d take it well if you told him what occurred. While you want to believe your relationship will survive it, Coriolanus’ words are tossing fuel on every insecurity within you. Your confidence wavers, your hand sagging in his hold.

Coriolanus’ intense blue gaze is hard on you as he continues, his raspy tone low and foreboding, “Or perhaps, you’ll make up a lie? You really think he won't see it on your face?” A contrite expression settles on his handsome features. “You wear your emotions on your sleeves. He’ll know right away.” His thumb sweeps over your cheek to wipe a lone, stray tear. “William seems like a good man, but such a betrayal…it’d break the two of you before you even began.” He leans closer, his lips ghosting over your earshell. “He will never forgive you.”

All hope shrivels inside you, the last remnants you still held onto crumbling to dust.

You almost made a mistake. Of course Coryo’s right.

“Do you trust me?”

You give a frantic nod, releasing a shuddering sob.

He smiles at your response.

“Then go upstairs,” he instructs. “I’ll talk to him, fix everything.”

Seeing you linger at the bottom of the stairs, longing gaze darting to the door, Coriolanus squeezes your hand in reassurance.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’m going to make sure you still get to have a wedding at the end of this.” His smile grows wide. “I promise you.”

You search his face. Confidence radiates from his expression, planting the belief that he’s right deep within you. You shouldn’t have doubted him. Coriolanus has gone to great lengths to help you. Even now, he’s protecting your future. It’s more than one should ask of a friend, yet he’s doing it for your sake.

“Thank you,” you say. His hand slackens around yours, a satisfied glint dancing in his cobalt gaze. You rush up the stairs, not daring to look back in fear you falter once more.

#dark!coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark!coriolanus snow

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jaybirdzi · 9 months ago

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12:39 am

warnings - smut, p in v, not-so-gn (usage of 'good girl'), slight degradation, slight dumbification, unprotected sex (wrap it up yall)

minors dni !!!

dbdbbe all i can think abt is jason absolutely going at it after a long day of patrol. he is tired, but soo pent up, and there you are, looking all pretty in just his shirt and panties. it was almost like you were begging to be taken.

your back was arched into the mattress, his hand holding down your shoulders against the bed. muffled moans and whimpers escaped your parted lips, eyes teary from his cock slamming into your walls. “what a good fuckin’ girl. takin’ my cock so well aren't you baby?” he drawls, groaning at your walls tightening with every word. your hips squirm against his ministrations, his hand slaps against your ass, causing a squeak to escape your lips

“‘m talking to you baby, you're a good girl aren't you?”

you could only nod, not trusting your fucked out brain to work enough to form coherent words.

"use your words like a big girl." he slaps your ass again, a yelp escaping your throat. you grip at the sheets, only able to think about his thick shaft stretching out your walls so deliciously.

"y-yes 'm a good g-girl" you stammer out between moans and whimpers as his thrusts seemed relentless.

"you gonna cum all over this cock aren't you baby." his hand travels from your hip, to your puffy needy clit. his calloused fingers tapping agains the swollen bud. loud moans resonated in the room, moans turning into full on sobs as you nodded, eyes closing shut.

"cum for me baby" he whispered, leaning his body over yours as you came over his cock. he didn't stop, now focusing on his orgasm.

you were a whimpering and drooling mess, body jerking with each thrust. he grunts and lets out a low moan, finally reaching his climax, your walls tightening around him, his cum coating your walls.

he pulls out your panting body, he takes shallow breaths, reaching for a napkin and wiping his dripping cum from your folds. you whined, still sensitive.

"sorry baby. i'll buy you the pill tomorrow" his voice came out low and rumbly. you just nod as he helps you sit back up. he sets you on his lap as he kisses around your face. "you really did so good for me." he kisses your forehead. "now lets get you cleaned up baby."

i need him to be real SO BADLYYY!!!

#jason todd smut #jason todd #jason todd x reader #dc smut #red hood #red hood smut #drabble #jason todd drabble #your honor i love him

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b2cute · 7 months ago

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After Hours | Matt Sturniolo

authors notes: hi guys! i’ve been really busy but i want to try to be more active on this app because i love you guys so much! reminder that requests are open!

warnings: y/n (don’t kill me), fem reader, she/her pronouns, pet names, sex, no pull out, wrap before u tap!!!!, cussing?, lmk if i miss anything

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

It was 12:40 am and Matt still hadn’t arrived to pick me up from my friend's house. I was there all day and the night before, helping her prep for a big final coming up at our university. We met each other at a bar freshman year and now spend our late teenage years together. I found Matt through her when she invited me to her birthday party early into our friendship. I got to meet Nathan, a close friend of Matt’s and later found Matt because of him. Through the years of my relationship with Matt, we share plenty of memories and stories. He is sweet and takes good care of me. It took time for him to open up to me which is something I found interesting considering his now bubbly persona. Matt would start by shaking my hand and guiding me to his car. Now, he sprints to me and picks me up like a feather while carrying me to the car for our weekly dates.

Considering our different lifestyles, it's hard for me and Matt to see each of her as much as we desire. His love for YouTube and my constant studying made it impossible to get alone time, so when we were together he made the most out of it. For others, Matt is kind and shy with a friendly personality, but for me… well it's safe to say he hates my guts after hours.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“Yeah just like that” she screams out. Her face was shoved into the plush silk pillows in his room. The lights were dim and the only sounds were y/n’s moans and slapping through the bedroom, maybe even the whole house. Matt continues pounding into her like there's no tomorrow. Even though she couldn't remember how many times she finished, y/n was still feigning for more. The way her tight walls hugged Matt's thick member made the two weak for each other. “Gonna be a good girl and give me a couple more right baby?” the sweaty brunette calls out. His figure was almost invisible in the room with nothing but a dark silhouette showing his lean body.

Matt continued fucking himself onto y/n, she couldn't take it anymore. Her body became numb and her legs gave out a long ago now being held by Matt's tattooed arm that snakes throughout her waist as he slowly bent down to place harsh kisses onto the girl's back. “Please mmph… can't take it anymore” the girl cried out. She was attempting to crawl away from the boy when she suddenly felt her body shift. Matt turned her limp body around so her head was on the back of the pillows. “You got it, almost done love just hang on” he grunts. Matt brings his arms to the backs of y/n’s thighs and lifts them back to her knees. The new angle brought a wave of pleasure as his head kissed her g-spot over and over. “Matt oh my g-god!” she moans out but the boy tuned her out long ago, only focusing on making her finish.

He slowed down his pace, pulling out until just the tip was in her, then slamming back in, repeating this over and over. Soft groans escaped the boy's lips as he held onto the girl, not letting her leave the state she was in.

“Matt seriously, no more” she cried out, “I'm done.” This only made Matt needier, bringing a hand lower to her puffy clit, rubbing hard circles with the pads of his fingers, occasionally leaving a light slap. Y/n jerked up from the pleasure, holding onto the boy's hair as a familiar knot in her stomach formed for the 3rd time. “C-close” she warned the boy as her eyes screwed shut from the sensation she felt. “M’ too, come with me babe” the boy growled fastening his pace. He left out numerous amount of thrusts before releasing his sticky seed inside y/n’s swollen cunt. “Matt!” y/n screams out, her back leaving the mattress as her hands grip the silky sheets underneath her. She squirmed underneath the boy and created the perfect “O” shape on her mouth. A series of cusses left Matt’s mouth as he panted hard after coming.

Trying to not hurt her, Matt slowly pulled out, the sight of their releasing oozing out of the girl. Wasting no time, Matt dips his head down legs y/n’s legs shoving the muscle in his mouth into her. “Too sensitive!” she cries out, her hands finding a home in his damp hair trying to pull him away. “Can't leave a mess, can we? Nick and Chris will notice” he smirks before diving back in. His tongue dances around the girl's cunt, cleaning everything up before light sucking her swollen clit. Y/n was a moaning mess, moving around and squirming at every little touch. When Matt felt satisfied, he pulled away, leaving one last kiss on her pussy and standing up.

The girl was lying down on the bed, her body almost paralyzed. Matt stood up, walked into the bathroom, and grabbed a damp towel to clean up anything left behind. After throwing it away, he went into the bed pulling Y/n into his arms, kissing the top of her head. He could feel her heart beating out her chest and he stroked her hair. “I love you, baby, you did so good for me” he cooed, planting kisses on her forehead. The girl let out a soft hum as she drifted into bed. Not being able to sleep, Matt grabbed his phone to see 40+ notifications from his group chat with Nick and Chris.

| For god's sake please shut the fuck up

| Matt you hooligan I can hear you over my music

| I give up.

The boy let out a soft laugh before shutting his phone off and bringing y/n closer to his chest, slowly drifting off to bed himself.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

taglist:

@mqttittude @luverboychris @knowingnothingnoel @whicked-hazlatwhore @mattsdinosweater @n00dl3zzz @sophssturn @sstvrnioloo @sturnioloenthusiast @lolasturniolo o @mattsleftnipple03 @gracealwaysdisgrace @guccifrog @hearts4chriss @sttzee @stunza @fawned01 @sillysillygyal @skyslondon @stu2719962 @domaniquessidehoe @junnniiieee07

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dirtylittlecubbs · 9 months ago

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[10:12] - Please

𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐┈┈┈┈𖤐

"You think you deserve to cum? After the way you behaved today?" Chan says, pulling his cock out of you and sitting upright on his knees. You gasp at the loss of his length inside you, more tears spilling from your eyes. As he begins to turn away you spring from your position on your back, the one he had you in while he pounded into you only moments ago.

"No no no Chan wait wait-" you crawl to him and grab onto his thighs to try and stop him from shuffling off the bed. "I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry please, please! Don't do this!" Your fingers are digging into his thighs but Chan doesn't seem to care about the pain, he's only looking at you, narrowed eyes staring down at you. You have no idea what's going through his mind but you hope he's at least reconsidering his punishment.

"I know I shouldn't have done it! I shouldn't have I'm so sorry but please don't! I have to cum- I-I-I need too!" you plead, all sense of stubbornness- any sense of shame- completely gone. On your hands and knees for him, ass up in the air in your desperation to get to him before he could leave the bed. He's got you trained as well as a dog.

There's a thick sheen of sweat covering your entire body and tears streaming down your face. Your pleading, desperate eyes enveloped by lust, your hair a disheveled mess atop your head, you looked beautiful. As much as Chan wanted to be strict in his punishment, how could he do that to you when you're so eager to make up for your mistake. He has more than one way of punishing you, he'll just use a different method today.

"Turn around, ass up." He commands and a hopeful smile breaks out on your face. You immediately turn around and present your already bruised ass to him. Chan grabs your hip with one hand, pulling you back closer to him and grabs your disheveled hair with his other and pulls you up, making your back arch into him.

He lines himself up with your dripping entrance but before he pushes in he brings his lips to your ear. "Don't think this means you're forgiven. I'm gonna fuck you so hard you don't even think about doing that again." A shiver runs up your spine and your entire body shivers in excitement. Punishment or promise, you neither knew nor cared anymore. Chan pulls away from your ear, then he spits onto your already wet cunt causing another gush of arousal to flood out of you.

He pushes into you in one go, not giving you any time to adjust. His grip on your hair tightens and he pushes your upper body into the mattress. "You want to cum? Fine but you're going to keep cumming until I decide you've learned your lesson"

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

╭✧────────── ･｡ﾟ☆ *.☽ .* ☆ﾟ. ──────────✧╮

@skzms @stayconnecteed @starlostastronaut

╰✧────────── ･｡ﾟ☆ *.☽ .* ☆ﾟ. ──────────✧╯

#hornycore!⚠#stray kids #skz hard thoughts #skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #skz chan smut

519 notes · View notes

bvidzsoo · 4 months ago

Text

Love Me Like A Rockstar (12)

ー☆ Chapter 12: Shame On Me

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cursing ー☆ Word count: 5.5k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hiii, my lovelies! Shorter chapter but you won't have to wait too long, I'll update next week again! I don't think there will be any more updates to my other stories this week because I'm going to visit my bestie on Thursday and I only come home on Sunday (can't wait to see you again Orsi *cries*). You know the drill, please listen to Shame On Me before or while reading, thank you!! So, uh, you all will hate me after this chapter, I'm sorry in advance, but you can go scream at me in the notes and reblogs! <3 However, I promise the angst won't last for too long :D Thank you all for reading and always leaving feedback, I appreciate it a lot! I hope you enjoy this chapter, don't hate me pls. divider

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf @hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380 @xciiiomwliah @vixensss @catchingskzzzs @tesssaurrr @ginger-mingi @mingisbbg

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

It was quite ominous how well I had slept last night, and despite feeling my eyes burn from staying up too late and not getting enough sleep, I felt well-rested. Perhaps the unusual warmth engulfing my body had something to do with the way my muscles seemed to become one with the mattress, and the comfortable weight around my waist also made me want to give in to the calling of another slumber. I had woken up a few times before, trying to find new comfortable positions as I could hear the birds chirp outside and the sweet cologne that clung to my clothes and the sheets tingled my nose in a way I had to suppress a sneeze. But the sun was high up in the sky already, the blinds open as I felt the warmth of the sunlight on my face. I released a content sigh as my muscles begged for a good stretch, making me groan when I felt a few vertebras pop, tension releasing between them. Gosh, I wish I could wake up feeling this refreshed every morning.

The covers were thick, and thus, the non-existent melody of the bed calling out to me to stay for longer won as I melted back against the pillow, licking my dry lips as I was mildly surprised that there was no impeding headache. I would usually feel hungover even if I drank only a little—hence why I preferred staying away from alcohol—but maybe that hot chocolate I had last night was some magic drink. There was a low groan next to me and I smiled for a second, feeling thick fingers tangle into the waistband of the sweatpants I was wearing, definitely not mine as they rode a little too low on my hips. The strings must’ve come undone in my sleep as I kept shifting around. Not really thinking as I was still under the blissful grip of a good night’s sleep, I sneaked my right arm underneath the covers and gently traced the warm skin of the arm pressing against my torso. There was another low hum and I smiled as I turned my head to the left, eyes protesting as I tried to peel them open. Perhaps that can wait until my brain is fully functioning.

“Good morning.” Mingi’s voice was husky and it covered my arms in goosebumps as I felt butterflies in my stomach, the heath of my cheeks unnatural once again.

“Morning.” I whispered and bit my bottom lip, feeling the bed shift again as Mingi’s hand now held my waist firmly, fingers rubbing circles into the skin where his borrowed t-shirt had ridden up. Feeling eyes on me, I opened one eye and chuckled as I saw Mingi’s puffy face, halfway hidden into his pillow as he lay on his stomach, red lips swollen and platinum blonde hair disheveled in every possible way. Mingi’s cheeks tinged pink and he grumbled something intangible as he hid his face into the pillow, feigning a tickle at my waist as I squirmed and pushed his hand off, heartbeat picking up as Mingi caught my hand before I could pull it away and interlaced our fingers. My eyes were painfully dry but I rubbed them with the heel of my left palm, rubbing my face afterwards as the haze of sleep slowly had started dissipating.

So, turns out all of this wasn’t a dream. I did go to Outlaw to watch Mingi perform, I did get drunk and got into a tiny argument with Mingi, and he did drive me home afterwards. And apparently, I did sleep over wearing his clothes and using his toiletries and we did—we did kiss. I gulped and licked my dry lips again, feeling the butterflies dissipate in my stomach as instead a lump formed in my throat. I released a shaky breath as I felt Mingi caress my knuckles underneath the covers, and then he turned his head to look at me. He looked—content. He looked happy. His face was serene and he looked like he has been waiting for this moment for ages. Something in my chest ached at the thought and I gulped, feeling the blissful morning daze dissipate completely and get replace by a slowly impeding dread. I released a shaky sigh as a heartbreakingly beautiful smile graced Mingi’s lips, mouth forming a boxy shape that showed all of his teeth—the protruding front ones that I grew to adore—his nose wrinkling and eyes creasing. Suddenly, I didn’t feel so good anymore, I felt like I wanted to cry.

Why was Mingi so perfect? Why was he so kind to me? Why did he treat me so well? Why was he so patient with me? Why did he stick by my side for so long? What was it about me that he liked? What did Mingi want from me?

I froze as suddenly Mingi pushed up onto his elbows and started leaning over me, that smile still present on his lips as he released my hand to caress my cheek. My hands trembled as I tried to hold his eye contact, but all of a sudden I felt sick. I felt dirty and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Everything smelled like Mingi, everything felt like Mingi—it was too much. Perhaps he saw the subtle shift in my expression as he stopped for a second, eyebrows slightly furrowing, but then his warm lips touched the corner of my mouth and it made my muscles tense up and send my mind off into an alarmed frenzy.

I couldn’t be here, I had to leave. No. What was I doing? How could I do this when I knew Mingi is Yunho’s best friend? How could I hide something like that from him? Why did I let him kiss me and why did I kiss him back? Why have I—why the hell have I started liking Mingi so much that having him next to me suddenly felt right and being away from him made me anxious, made it feel so wrong?

Unable to control myself anymore, I sprung up from the bed, trying to keep my breaths labored as Mingi sat up alarmed, eyebrows furrowing as he watched me scramble around his room looking for my clothes. I couldn’t remember where he had placed them last night—whether I had left them in bathroom or had brought them to the living room. I heard the sheets crinkle as no doubt Mingi was getting out of bed too, I could feel his piercing gaze follow my every move.

“You—” He hesitated for a second, “You don’t have to leave so early—I mean, it’s not that early, but I want to make us breakfast. I promise I’m not a bad cook.”

I bit my lower lip as my eyebrows furrowed, my body freezing as my heart clenched. I wanted that, I wanted to stay with Mingi and eat breakfast and laugh and just let go of everything and forget every single one of my worries, but I couldn’t. I felt so guilty, I couldn’t even turn around and face him. I had to leave and I had to get rid of him, it would be best for the both of us.

“I’m not hungry.” My voice was barely above a whisper, cold, and distant. I finally spotted my clothes sitting neatly folded on Mingi’s desk chair and I leaped towards them, my fingers curling tightly into them as I cradled them into my arms, somehow hoping that it would bring any sort of comfort. It didn’t because I could still feel Mingi’s eyes on me and hear the way his steps faltered.

“Oh, then…” He fell silent and I felt my hands’ tremors worsen, making me bite into my bottom lip to try and keep myself level-headed. It was hard, and I was failing at it, “We could grab some coffee and—”

“I’m going home, Mingi.” I snapped, cutting off his rambling because I was unable to listen to his warm and soothing voice anymore, now laced with obvious hurt and dejection. I wasn’t only hurting myself anymore, I was hurting him too. And I hated myself. He deserved better. Mingi deserves someone who cherishes him and makes him happy, not someone who brings his hopes up and then stomps on his heart like it means nothing. I didn’t want to do this, but I felt like I had no choice. I had dug my own grave by indulging into his little games—they weren’t games, Mingi has been genuine from the get go—and now here I was, suffering the consequences of my own actions.

“I—Y/N.” I froze as my hand reached for the handle to open the door, I couldn’t face him, “What we did—what happened last night, I—no, the kiss, we can’t just glaze over it, I can’t—I can’t do that anymore. Please, what are we?”

I squeezed my eyes shut at the sudden tears in them and inhaled a long breath, slowly twisting the handle of the door so that I could flee easier, “The kiss was—a mistake. We were both caught up in our feels and I—I didn’t mean to do that. I never wanted to kiss you. I don’t—it means nothing. We are nothing, Mingi.”

If the same words echoed in my mind but sounded a lot more masculine and venomous, puppylike eyes narrowed and glaring down at me, I gulped and repressed the memory, rushing out of Mingi’s room in a panic. I didn’t want to hear the way Mingi gasped nor the way he called out in confusion after me as I made it towards the shoe rack, finding my boots placed neatly next to his. It took everything I had in me to keep it together, to swallow the tears that wanted to escape my eyes, to keep my voice firm.

“What do you mean it meant nothing?” Mingi didn’t even sound angry, he sounded so utterly hurt, that a tear unintentionally trickled down my cheek, “It couldn’t have meant nothing, Y/N, we’ve been dancing around each other for too long for it to mean nothing. You’ve—I’ve kissed you before, not like this of course, but we did kiss and we’ve held hands and you—you can’t just fucking say it means nothing when it means everything to me!”

Fuck.

Perhaps it was good that he was finally showing any other reaction than disappointment and hurt, perhaps I pitied myself less if he was angry at me and shouting—I deserved it. I really did, every mean thing he’d hurl at me, I deserved to hear them because he was right. He was, he had always been. I’m a horrible awful being and I played with his feelings just like Yunho had played with mine. How could I hate Yunho so much when I was just like him?

“We’re both honest and blunt people, Mingi, there’s no reason to dance around this.” My voice sounded leveled, calm, almost as if it was mocking Mingi’s despair and I felt like complete shit, “Quite frankly put, I don’t want to see you again. This everything—whatever the hell we’ve been doing for the past three months, it was a shitshow. I don’t know what your purpose behind your actions was but I know mine and it has nothing to do with—whatever we’ve done last night. There’s no such thing as friendship between a girl and boy, it never works out, somebody always gets heartbroken and that’s exactly what’s happening right now. I think we both mislead each other, which led to this misunderstanding, so yes, it means nothing because I don’t want anything from you, but you clearly want something I cannot give you.”

The deafening silence felt like a slap to my face and it almost made me whirl around to apologize for my harsh words, to tell him that it was all a lie, that I liked him more than who I thought was my first love. I had always thought I loved Yunho with my whole being, that I gave him all of myself, but that wasn’t true. Yunho had never seen me at my lowest, Yunho never tried to fix the issues between us, he never reached out if he knew he did something wrong, he never even tried to pursue me—it was all me, all along. I was the one fighting for us and Yunho just went along with it because it was comfortable, because I was a stable point in his chaotic life, somebody he knew he could come back to. And I was treating Mingi as if he did the same thing to me, as if he was just another replica of Yunho—when he wasn’t. Mingi was so much more than Yunho would ever be, and I ruined everything in the span of five minutes.

I didn’t even bother lacing up my boots as I stepped into them, afraid to look back, but unable to stop myself when the silence just continued to stretch on. I didn’t expect to see Mingi’s eyes bloodshot, nor his bottom lip red and swollen from getting chewed on too much. Fuck, why did my heart ache more than when Yunho left me?!

“I never wanted to be your friend, doll.” The way his tone was emotionless yet his lips uttered the nickname, it made my lungs constrict as the lump got bigger and bigger in my throat, “But I knew you needed time, so I gave it to you. Perhaps—perhaps I shouldn’t have, maybe I should have been cleared with my intentions—”

“Mingi.” I snapped, eyebrows furrowing as we made eye contact. I couldn’t listen to him anymore; I couldn’t bear to hear him make up excuses for the sake of me. Why was he not screaming at me, why was he not hurting me? This is why he was too good for me, why I didn’t deserve him, “Delete my number.”

“You know your way out.” And I did know it. Without saying anything else, I unlocked the front door and ripped it open, slamming it shut behind me as I raced towards the stairs, hissing as my eyes got blurry and obscured my view of where I was stepping. But I had to get out of the building as fast as possible, scared that Mingi would race after me, that he’d try to reason with me one more time because it would work. It would work and I would give in. I would tell him the truth and then everything would be more painful. I was saving him from the betrayal he didn’t deserve, I was saving him from me, who never treated him right. I thought he was an asshole, an arrogant guy who yearned for attention and validation from every breathing female. But that wasn’t true, Mingi was a selfless and hard-working man who put others above himself, he wasn’t greedy and he wore his heart on his sleeve, ready to offer all the love his body contained without expecting anything in return. And I was a horrible human being because I took advantage of his kindness and goodness, because in the process of trying to get rid of him—I fell for him.

I was gasping for air by the time I stumbled out of the building, the wind harsh and cold as I scrambled to wear my jacket over Mingi’s thin t-shirt. It did nothing to shield me from the harsh weather and perhaps I deserved it, perhaps I deserved to be stared at by the passerby people with questioning or judgmental stares. I had no idea where I was, but thankfully finding my phone in my pocket, I was able to walk myself to a bus station and wait for a bus that would take me home. Mingi lived almost thirty minutes away from my place, but that was fine, I could keep it together for so long. I wouldn’t cry, I refused to cry, this was my own punishment. As I sat on the bench at the bus station, the heather above head lessening the chill that seemed to bite at my body, I closed my eyes and wallowed in the tumultuous emotions I felt.

This was far from how I wanted things to go, I thought I was better, that I could control myself and keep everything in check, but at last, I failed. I failed and now I hurt the guy I had fallen for. I was scared, I was afraid of getting left behind like it previously had happened, and so I wanted to protect myself. I struck before he could. I thought I would be protecting my heart and getting the upper hand, but then why was my heart aching and my stomach clenching so hard that it made me feel nauseous? Why do I always mess things up when they finally go right? Can’t I have something good for myself? Is it so hard to believe that not all guys are like Yunho? But Mingi is his best friend and it started getting easy to spot similarities between them the longer I hung out with Mingi. So could he really be much different from Yunho? I wouldn’t know, now, I would never find out.

I felt numb, both physically and emotionally, by the time I made it home. The house was empty and dark, rainclouds had gathered outside and I was thankful that I made it home before the downpour. It reminded me of Mingi, everything seemed to remind me of Mingi. I hated it, it made breathing harder as I peeled his clothes off myself and went into the shower, probably staying underneath the spray of the hot water for too long. My skin was all wrinkled by the time I got out and the rain came down heavily against the roof of the house, forcing me to dress up warmly and wear the hood of my hoodie as I was too tired and lazy to dry my hair. I was craving something hot to drink, but when my eyes fell on the hot chocolate in the cupboard I suddenly felt sick to my stomach and had to rush to the bathroom, heaving and heaving without throwing up anything. I felt like I was borderline dying, and I deserved it. I knew I did.

And when I was feeling my utmost worst, there was only one thing that could help. Drawing and painting. I stared at my sketchbook longingly, but decided to use a different one as that one was filled with sketches of Mingi’s eyes, and him performing on stage, him driving or him laughing with his boxy and gummy smile, his hands that were littered with rings, his peaceful face when he had fallen asleep once in the library while we were studying. But something that hasn’t happened before did happen now. No matter how much I stared at the blank paper, nothing came to me. My mind refused to conjure up any images, my hands refused to move. My grip on the pencil turned painful and I hissed as I pushed the sketchbook off my lap, throwing the pencil against the wall in frustration. I pulled my knees up to my chest as I listened to the heavy rain, staring at the window, watching as big drops rolled down quickly. The silence, the darkness, the numbness…it was beginning to be too much. I wished to see Mingi, I wished to talk to him, I wanted to fix this, but I couldn’t. I was an asshole and going back to him just hours later after being a dick and probably hurting him beyond forgiveness was an even bigger dick move. I just couldn’t do it, so, I closed my eyes and waited. For what, I didn’t know until my phone rang loudly, making me jump out of my skin.

I was stupid for feeling a flicker of hope that it was maybe him, but my heart settled when Seulgi’s smiling face greeted me once I grabbed my phone. I sighed and picked up, beyond grateful that she probably had a feeling that things weren’t going so well anymore. I could feel the small smile stretch onto my lips, the greeting on the tip of my tongue, but Seulgi beat me to it.

“What have you done.” I froze, heart falling into my stomach at the harsh tone of my best friend, eyebrows furrowing in worry. Seulgi never spoke like that to me—to anyone—she was a ray of sunshine and she never got angry, she was never disappointed, she never treated anyone roughly, “Y/N!”

I jumped at the way she yelled my name, gulping down nothing as my mouth had gone dry, “I—nothing. I did nothing—”

“You’re full of shit.” Seulgi snapped and I felt my lips tremble as her voice raised in anger, “How can you say you did nothing when Mingi has been at Wooyoung’s ever since noon and hasn’t stopped bawling his eyes out?! He’s not speaking, he’s not eating, he’s not even moving, Y/N. What did you do?”

“I—” I gulped, voice faint as I felt my eyes fill with tears, “I didn’t mean to, I—I told him it was nothing. That I—didn’t want to see him again. I just—I’m scared, Seulgi.”

“You’re the fucking worst, Y/N.” Seulgi’s tone didn’t soften, if anything, it got harsher and I heard someone in the background call out her name in a quiet warning, “How could you say that to Mingi out of all people?! Are you seriously joking right now?! Did you feel good playing around with him when he has made it so fucking clear that he was into you? That he likes you? That he wants to be with you? You aren’t even dense not to see things like this, Y/N, you straight up played with his feelings and then crushed his heart like it meant nothing.”

“I’m sorry.” I whispered, sniffing loudly as Seulgi scoffed. Hearing everything out loud and getting scolded by my best friend probably was the worst feeling ever. I knew I had fucked up colossally if she was taking Mingi’s side, rightfully so.

“I can’t believe you treated him like nothing,” A slight pause and then her voice dropped to a low whisper, “Like Yunho has treated you. You said the same thing to him, Y/N, aren’t you ashamed of yourself—”

“I fucking hate myself, Seulgi!” I exclaimed, frustrated and panicked and annoyed and wounded, “I didn’t mean for this to happen, but I’m scared! I can’t—what if he leaves me? What if he’s worse than Yunho’s ever been?!”

“We were teenagers back then.” Seulgi sighed and her voice softened the slightest, “And Yunho was an asshole from the very beginning, you just refused to see it. Mingi has always been genuine with you, fair, and kind. Yet you saw that and still threw him to the curb.”

“I’m sorry.” I felt a tear trickle down my cheek and I quickly wiped it away, refusing to cry. I didn’t deserve to cry.

“You should be saying that to Mingi, not me.” There was light shuffling in the background and then I heard different voices talking to Seulgi, “Seonghwa is here too now, I have to go. You better fix this even though I don’t know if you deserve his forgiveness at this point.”

“Don’t say that.” I whispered, but Seulgi hung up without saying goodbye, and suddenly I didn’t know what to do anymore. The phone fell from my hand as I stared with tear filled eyes at my mother’s guitar, flashes of Mingi’s excitement upon seeing it fresh in my mind, making my throat close up. I couldn’t breathe. Mingi wasn’t talking to anyone and it was because of me, I did that. I made him feel like that and I didn’t even know how to fix this anymore. Could I fix it? Or have I fucked up so badly that he’ll never forgive me? I knew for a fact that if I were Mingi, I wouldn’t forgive myself no matter how much he would’ve begged or tried making things right. Just as my head fell onto my knees and I squeezed my eyes shut, annoyed that the unshed tears kept persisting, there was a knock on my door. I hadn’t even heard my mother get home.

She gently pushed the door open and peered inside with a curious look on her face, looking excited as I turned my head to look at her. She grinned and suddenly stepped inside, holding up a small box in excitement. My eyebrows furrowed as I watched her grab a paper out of it, giving me a cheeky smile as she cleared her throat, “‘I hope every time you drink your hot chocolate out of this mug you’ll be reminded of me, doll – S.M.’”

I suppose that was all I needed for the cup to be full, to be tipped over the edge as the tears suddenly sprung free, ripping loud sobs from my throat as I grabbed at my hair, yanking on the strands harshly. My mother gasped in fright and I heard movement behind myself, then I felt hands untangle my fingers from my hair, placing them in my lap with one hand as with her other hand she cradled my head against her chest. She smelled like the sanitizers they used at the hospitals, infused with a little musk as it was my mother’s favorite scent, and I was suddenly so grateful for having her. I turned my body to hug her tightly, crying into her chest like I was a little girl once again. My mother sighed as I felt her pat my head and rub my back up and down, humming a song I knew all too well as we used to listen to it a lot while I was growing up. The weight of her chin felt comforting against the top of my head and I gripped her work clothes perhaps a little too tight, but I didn’t care. I have missed her embrace, I missed laughing with her and crying with her, I have missed talking to her. After Yunho left me, I became closed off. I didn’t let anyone know how I felt or what I was going through, and despite my mother being a nurse, she could only help me if I let her—and I didn’t. I was repulsed by any closeness and I needed to be on my own. Days turned into months and those into years, and it took me this long to realize I wasn’t doing as well as I thought I was.

“Mom,” I was still crying, but my sobs have stopped, “I messed up so bad.”

She hummed as her fingers tried to untangle the knots in my hair, “Does it have to do anything with whom the mug is from?”

I nodded wordlessly and she hummed again, tapping my thigh for me to pull back, “Is it that tall boy with sharp eyes, cute glasses and sweet smile, fluffy dark hair?”

“He’s blonde now.” I muttered as I sniffed loudly and disgustingly as I pulled back, letting my mom wipe my tears off my face.

“You hate blonde guys, though.” She muttered with her eyebrows furrowed as I sheepishly looked up into her eyes.

“I know.”

A beat of silence passed and then she started giggling, prompting me to giggle along, my heart still aching but the relief of being in her arms made me feel like I could breathe once again, “Well, that is no good then. I hope you aren’t crying because this S.M. boy went blonde—”

“Song Mingi, his name is Song Mingi.” I whispered as I chewed on my bottom lip, averting my eyes, “I can’t believe you already forgot his name.”

“Well, I’m particularly bad with names, starlight.” My mother chuckled and I felt a smile tug at my lips. She always found peculiar nicknames to call me by, “And he never came over for dinner, that was my trick to remember his name and well—get to know him better, I suppose.”

“He’s not coming over for dinner—like ever.” My tone was grim as I grumbled, picking at my cuticle as I looked down at my lap, avoiding the look of confusion on my mother’s face.

“So, things didn’t work out…” I hummed and sighed, pulling away completely from my mother’s embrace.

“I’m a fool.” I muttered as I pulled my knees up to my chest again, staring at my socked feet. My mother placed her hand on my shoulder and massaged it softly, “I hurt him and now he hates me. I said what happened between us meant nothing, but I was lying. I think I’m in love with him, mom.”

“Has he said that he hates you?” My mother raised her eyebrows in question and I shook my head, “Then he doesn’t hate you. Yes, you hurt him with your harsh words but if you really love him—what’s holding you back, my starlight? You’re a smart woman and you know how to fix your mistakes, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you. So don’t just sulk and wail and make him hurt for no reason—”

“He’s Yunho’s best friend.” I whispered, peeking up at my mother’s face, surprised to find a smile that looked both comforting and amused.

“And does he know that?”

“What?” I asked confused, making my mother chuckle, “Of course he knows he’s Yunho’s best friend.”

“That’s not what I asked, starlight.”

“No, he doesn’t know.” I muttered and grimaced as my mother shook her head at me, “I never found the right moment to tell him, actually, things were never supposed to get this far, mom.”

“I see,” My mother hummed and leaned closer, “You know, I’m speaking based on many years of experience, but this Mingi boy doesn’t seem like the type to hold grudges for too long or judge you for your past. Sure, it must feel weird knowing your current girlfriend has dated your best friend, but that was like ages ago—and you’re still making a big deal out of it—”

“Mom.” I groaned, giving her an unimpressed look, but she only giggled.

“You know, you didn’t take after me for being so dramatic.” She pursed her lips and suddenly pushed me over, making me fall to my side with a loud gasp, “It’s one of the few reasons your father didn’t stick around for long—he was too dramatic.”

“I thought he left us.” I muttered as I sat up straight, making my mother roll her eyes at me.

“He certainly did after I told him I didn’t need a junkie in my house while I was trying to raise my child—” She rolled her eyes then stood up, extending her hand out for me, “And then he thought I tried to baby trap him—huh, what an idiot. Who wants to baby trap a broke dude who’s doing nothing with his life while I was in school learning to be a nurse and girlbossing my way through life?!”

“Don’t ever again say girlbossing, mom.” I groaned embarrassed as I let her help me up.

“What?!” She chuckled, holding my hand gently, “It’s cool, everyone at the hospital says it—well, the younger generation. Anyways, we’re going to cook yummy dinner together, and then I’ll magically make some ice cream appear from our fridge and I have some really nice wine hiding in the cupboard, waiting for us to consume it while you tell me everything about this Song Mingi guy. We haven’t had a girl’s night in so long, I missed you, Y/N.”

“I missed you too, mom, but,” I frowned as I let her pull me after herself, “you do realize I’m suffering and am on the verge of having another break down, yet you still want me to talk about Mingi?”

“It’s called therapy, honey, even if I’m not a therapist.” She shrugged as we walked down the stairs, “Besides, I’ve got some bomb advice to give you to win this boy over. I can’t believe I managed to raise a strong and independent woman that’s emotionally constipated!”

“Oh, my God.” I muttered under my breath, wondering just how many of her coworkers were too young for her to be hanging around, and why on Earth were they teaching my mother cringey slang.

But she was right. I did need her advice, desperately so, and having a girl’s night while I can talk about Mingi without feeling embarrassed to admit I am into him sounded nice—especially now that I have successfully fucked everything up.

『You run away when you just can't face it

Hide in the dark, but you know you hate it』

❱❱ Next chapter

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aemondsbabe · 11 months ago

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Wind's Howling

summary: sharing a bed & accidental stimulation || you're nursing osferth's injury as the two of you spend a cold night together in an inn, but you feel called to help him in another way as well

pairing: osferth x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, mentions of injury but nothing graphic, dry humping kind of, kissing, breast/nipple play, piv sex, unprotected sex it’s like literally the 800’s sue me, cuddling, osferth whimpering how precious, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 1.8k

a/n: happy day five of 12 days of smuff!! this one can be read as a continuation of love is patient and kind or as a stand alone! enjoy! also yes, the title is a witcher pun

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @black-dread!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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You can hear Osferth let out a soft sigh behind you as you shift yet again in another futile attempt to get comfortable on the thin, lumpy mattress. You sigh too, as you finally settle, only to let out a quiet groan when you realize this position is really no better than the last twenty you tried.

“Sorry,” you spare a glance over your shoulder as you speak, wincing as another harsh gust of wind blows a cold draft through the room, “I can’t get comfortable enough on this damn thing to sleep.” You say with a defeated sigh.

“You need not apologize,” the monk murmurs behind you, “Between my shoulder and this cold, sleep eludes me as well.”

As if on cue, another stinging draft billows through the room, eerily whistling through any cracks it can find. The two of you sigh, defeated — leave it to Uhtred to pick the worst possible inn to stop at, though he had insisted upon it, saying Osferth needed a few days in safety to rest his shoulder and the rest of you needed the opportunity to gather supplies anyway.

Truthfully, a break was probably a good idea. Ever since the ambush a few days ago, the spirits of your group had been in short supply and members were beginning to bicker and fight amongst themselves. Your poor monk had taken it upon himself to be the peacekeeper, which had only served to cause you more stress as you kept trying to compel him to stay in bed and rest his shoulder.

You can’t help but squeeze your eyes shut at the thought of his injury, the memory of him being harshly tugged off his horse in the chaos of the ambush still makes you uneasy; your heart twists in your chest as you think through your list of “what ifs” yet again.

Almost as if he can sense your thoughts, Osferth bumps the back of your leg with his knee. “Please do not worry yourself, my lady,” he says, a heaviness to his tired voice, “I am fine, we are safe.”

“How did you know I was thinking about it?”

“You tense up every time you do.”

You sigh again before finally turning over to face him, your tired eyes meeting his in the dark room, the only light in the room coming from the full moon outside.

“Hi,” you murmur after a moment.

“Hi,” he whispers, the corner of his lips quirking up into a soft smirk.

“How’s your shoulder?” You ask, shrugging one arm out from underneath the thick wool blanket the two of you share to gingerly run your fingers over his arm, taking extra care in the spots you know are still bruised and sore, “Is it feeling any better?”

“I think so,” he mutters, flexing it a little, “It aches to move it too much but as long as I am still, it causes me no pain.”

You nod thoughtfully, silently thanking whatever God there may be that he had escaped relatively unharmed.

After another moment of silence, you wiggle again on the mattress before letting out a quiet, rueful laugh. “I give up,” you groan, “This mattress is useless.”

Osferth sighs next to you and shuffles closer, reaching out as far as he can without extending his shoulder to skim his long fingers over your arm as an act of comfort, “I’m sorry, my sweet lady.”

“I should be the one apologizing,” you murmur, “Without my tossing and turning, perhaps you could find sleep.”

He breathes a quiet laugh through his nose, “You are not what is keeping me awake,” he says with a sigh, “Between this cold and my shoulder, your restlessness is a blessing.”

The wind howls outside once more and you see Osferth shiver as another draft of bitter air blows through the room. With a sigh, you shuffle closer to him, practically molding the front of your body to the front of his as your legs slot together under the woolen blanket; your eyes flutter closed as you savor the warmth of having him pressed against you, though the action causes your thin linen shift to ride up nearly to the tops of your thighs as one of his long legs presses between yours.

After a moment, you find yourself squirming for a much different reason, the discomfort of the mattress quickly slipping from the forefront of your mind as your center begins to throb, making you keenly aware of the way the monk’s warm thigh presses against your bare heat, the thin fabric of his breeches the only thing separating the two of you.

You stay quiet, opting not to disturb him further as you know sleep is important to the healing process. However, it seems his mind is wandering too because after a moment, your eyes shoot open when you feel his hard length pressing against your hip, only to find him already looking at you.

“Osferth —,”

“I’m sorry, my lady,” he murmurs softly, a blush visible on his cheeks even in the dim lighting, “I—,” he starts, though you cut him off with a soft kiss, sighing as his lips press against yours, his warm breath fanning across your face.

“You needn’t apologize,” you whisper, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, “In fact, I can think of something that may help us both sleep…” You tease, just barely rutting your hips against his.

His eyes slip closed at the feeling, a soft, whimpered sigh escaping his lips before he shakes his head. “You’ve already done so much for me, my lady,” Osferth murmurs, his blue eyes meeting yours once more.

“So let me do this last thing,” you smile, pressing one more sweet kiss against his lips, “Please?”

Your monk can’t help but smile at your eagerness and nods, making you smile brightly in the darkness of the small room. Gently, you untangle yourself from him before guiding him onto his back, taking care to ensure that he moves his shoulder as little as possible. Finally, you climb atop him, straddling his hips, both of you groaning at the way your wet, warm center presses against his length through his cotton breeches. You’re careful to keep the blankets wrapped over your shoulders as you maneuver on top of him, lifting your hips just enough to free his length.

You shiver when you feel him press against you, already throbbing in your grasp as you run the head of his cock through your folds, gasping as it bumps against your already aching bud.

“Please, my lady,” Osferth groans beneath you, his chest already heaving, “You… you feel too good, please.”

You can’t help but obey him, smirking at his pleas as you position his length at your entrance. “Shhh, sweet monk,” you soothe, moaning as the head of his cock slips inside you, “Let me make you feel good.”

Osferth whimpers beneath you as you sink down onto his length with a pleased sigh, your walls already squeezing against him. You gasp softly when he presses fully inside you, your hips resting against his as his length fills you completely, leaving no part of you untouched. You wiggle your hips on top of him, grinding your pearl against him with a soft whimper.

You slowly start moving atop him, though you quickly pick up the pace as one of his hands grips harshly at your waist, the other remains draped across his chest at your insistence, determined to keep his shoulder safe. You bite your lower lip, intending to stay quiet as you know the walls of the old inn must be quite thin, however that gets harder and harder to do as the tip of Osferth’s cock brushes against that sensitive spot within you every time you sink back down onto him.

“You feel so good,” the monk gasps as he stares up at you, marveling at how you move against him, at the beautiful blush spreading across your cheeks, at the way your breasts bounce beneath the nearly sheer fabric of your simple shift dress, “So beautiful, my sweet lady.” He sighs, his cock twitching against your walls.

“Osferth,” you whisper through a harsh gasp, “I love you, my precious monk.” You smile when he groans beneath you, his cock throbbing as you continue moving against him.

“I — Christ,” he gasps, the hand on your hip pushing itself under your shift dress, “I love you too, sweet girl.” He groans, perhaps a bit too loud, as he cups your breast, kneading your soft skin in his palm.

You gasp loudly at the added sensation, the heat in your belly threatening to boil over. Blessedly, Osferth seems just as done in as you, his hips squirming beneath yours as he tries to stay still.

“My lady,” he gasps, blue eyes staring up at you more urgently than before, “My lady, I — !” He cuts himself off with a loud moan when you lean forward to press your bud more firmly against him, which only serves to press his length somehow deeper within you as his fingers toy wildly with your nipple.

“I know,” you nod your head with a gasp, struggling to keep your eyes open, “I know, my sweet monk. It’s okay, please” you moan, your walls clenching hotly around him as your high finally spills over you, igniting every nerve ending with a blinding pleasure, “God, fuck!” You can’t help but squeal, bracing your hands on either side of the monk’s head as you tumble forward, unable to hold yourself up.

Osferth whispers your name over and over, as if in prayer, before he finally groans loudly, cock twitching wildly within you as he cums, painting your walls with his thick spend. He moans happily as you sink further down against him, mouthing at your nipples through the fabric of your dress.

After a moment, your high subsides and you open your eyes once more, giggling softly as you lean down to press a sweet kiss to his lips. With a sigh, you lift yourself off of him before dropping to the bed with a tired groan. You slot yourself against his side and pull the blanket back up from where it had slipped off, one of your legs draped across the monk’s hips.

Just as you’re about to open your mouth again to ask about his shoulder, a fist pounds on the wall above your heads from the next room, making the two of you gasp.

“Oi!” Sihtric calls, his gruff voice muffled, “If you don’t stop fucking like rabbits I’ll come in there and strangle the damn monk myself!”

“Oops,” you whisper to Osferth through a giggle, nuzzling your head against his neck.

“I would face the wrath of ten vikings to bed you, my lady,” the monk whispers softly before pressing a kiss against the top of your head.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses

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folkookie97 · 1 year ago

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❝ pride & arrogance ❞ — jjk

— SUMMARY: ❝ If his pride and arrogance incapacitated him from saying what he felt, then he would show you everything. ❞

— PAIRING: boyfriend!jungkook x female!reader

— TYPE: mild smut

— WORD COUNT: 985

— WARNINGS: smoker!Jungkook, mature language, edging, slight praise kink, punishment, slight bondage kink, mention of argument, soft dom!Jungkook x sub!reader, mention of squirting, mention of marijuana, use of pet names, slight dumbification, overstimulation

— NOTES: OH MYYYY HOW CAN THIS MAN BEING SO HOT WHILE SMOKING?

— RELEASE DATE: September 12, 2023

— CROSSPOSTING: ao3

Body lying on the bedsheets. Head towards the ceiling. Hands tied with a pink rope. A ball gag stuck in your mouth. White lace lingerie. A vibrator pressing onto the fabric and fixed there due to the knots helding it.

That was how you felt at the moment. No possibility of moving or even protesting against the marks that were beginning to appear on your skin.

No possibility of moaning every second an orgasm invaded your body.

You had lost track of how many times you felt tears running down your face and felt a pressure starting at the foot of your stomach, leaving you feeling high. Everything seemed like a white blur as the minutes passed and you struggled to keep your eyes open. Watching the gray paint on the ceiling was the only thing that's stopping you from giving into your body tiredness.

As much as you knew Jungkook would stop everything if you signaled your safeword — if your two feet hit each other three times in a row — you weren't in the mood to end it. You were becoming greedier every time the vibrator changed speed or restarted the vibration over your clit.

Sitting on the armchair in the corner of the room, Jungkook knew your needs better than anyone. The sight of your pussy soaking your damp panties indicated that you were close to your next orgasm.

Standing up with a cigarette still in his hands, he inhaled the small cylinder and held the smoke in his throat for a few seconds before expelling it in short bursts.

Walking in short steps, Jungkook came close to your bed, resting both knees on the mattress and having a better view of your face. Cheeks stained with thick tears and eyes still sparkling and tried hard not to give into exhaustion. Nose red from crying and slightly damp. The midsize ball gag made your lips more swollen and red, causing excessive spit that ran down your mouth corners.

Completely submissive. A sight that might look pathetic in any other man's eyes, but for Jungkook it was the hottest scene he'd ever seen in his entire twenty-six years of life.

"You look so beautiful like that, my kitty." Jungkook praised you and you felt your heart warming. "You can look at me now."

When Jungkook brought the necessary permission, you blinked once, clearing away the tears and looking at him. Jungkook was above your body, his dark and cut hair looking messy after the party. A cigarette in his hand indicating the stress of the situation hit him hard and he was trying to distract himself while you played your role as his sub and masochist girlfriend.

Even though the vibrator was still stimulating your clit, the speed was considerably slow after you wet the sheets last time cumming. Jungkook knew your limits and knew squirting more than once in less than ten minutes could result in your safeword being said. Lowering the speed would delay your next orgasm and it was the better choice.

Especially when an idea appears in his mind.

"You wanna give me head?"

You shook your head, furrowing your eyebrows in an expression that made Jungkook compare you to a whiner kitty. Letting out a little chuckle, Jungkook took his free hand to your cheek and left some cuddles on your tear-soaked skin.

You watched Jungkook take another drag on his cigarette before placing it in the ashtray on the table next to your bed. He blew the smoke into the air and returned his full attention to your eyes. He undid the lock on the object in your mouth and left you free to recover yourself.

Your entire jaw hurt from how long the small ball prevented you from closing your mouth. The spit dripping down your chin wasn't pleasant, however, you knew you'd need it for what happened next. You really wanted to not only please Jungkook, but you also wanted to apologize for the whole situation that led both of you there.

"Are you in pain now?" Jungkook asked and you denied it, shaking your head so fast that a dizziness hit you barely five seconds later. "Use your words, kitty."

"Sorry, Sir. I'm not."

Jungkook smiled, losing some of his dominant expression and taking on a gentle glow as his eyes diminished. Maybe it was due to your obedience from answering to him with his correct form of treatment. Or maybe the fact Jungkook knew that you were indeed in pain.

He couldn't be mad even though he knew you were hiding this secret. After all, you just wanted to please him.

An idea crossed Jungkook's mind, all his anger already fading.

"You were a good girl. You were so fucking good for me." Jungkook began, stroking your cheeks as if it was so precious. "Are you really sorry for what you did before?"

A pain struck your heart. God... regret had been gnawing at your mind since the two of you got home. You didn’t want to fight with him, it was never your intention to make him angry. Just as it was never your intention to curse him in front of his friends while the whole group shared some cigarettes and marijuana.

"Yes, sir... I'm sorry for everything I said and everything I did for you."

It wasn't the best apology Jungkook had ever received. It was simple words and almost so shallow that at another point he would force you to rephrase everything you said and demand better submission.

However, Jungkook knew this was for you best due to your angry personality and the pain in your body.

And in the end, Jungkook knew that he also hadn't been as good a boyfriend as he should have been. He also deserved to apologize.

And if his pride and arrogance incapacitated him from saying what he felt, then he would show you everything.

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thefty-o · 3 months ago

Text

Holiday Magic Mishap 2

I roll over in bed, my massive form barely contained by the king-size mattress. Even half-asleep, I can feel my cock throbbing, achingly hard and leaking pre-cum onto my abs. Christ, when did I get so damn horny all the time?

As I stretch, my biceps bulge obscenely, pushing against the headboard and leaving dents in the wood. Oops. I chuckle, my voice a low rumble that seems to shake the room. Everything feels so small lately - chairs creak under my weight, doorways seem narrower, and don't even get me started on clothing.

Speaking of which, I swing my tree-trunk legs over the side of the bed, fumbling for the sweatpants I discarded last night. They're comically small now, barely covering my quads and doing nothing to hide my morning wood. Whatever. It's the last day of our trip, and I've given up trying to find clothes that fit.

I lumber towards the bathroom, ducking under the doorframe. The mirror captures my reflection, and goddamn, I can't help but admire myself. Silver-streaked hair tops a ruggedly handsome face, strong jaw dusted with stubble. My shoulders are broader than the doorway, tapering down to a narrow waist and powerful legs. And right in the center, my cock stands proud, easily 12 inches long and thick as a beer can.

"Fuck, Johnson, when did you become such a stud?" I mutter, flexing my pecs. Each one is the size of a watermelon, my nipples puffy and sensitive. I give them a little tweak, groaning at the jolt of pleasure.

A knock at the door interrupts my self-admiration. "Dad? You decent?" It's my son's voice.

I laugh. "Decent? Son, I haven't been decent in days. Come on in if you dare."

The door creaks open, and my boy peeks his head in. Was he always this small? I swear he used to be taller. "Jesus, Dad," he mutters, averting his eyes from my barely-covered crotch.

"What's the matter, boy? Never seen a real man before?" I tease, turning to face him fully. My cock twitches, and I swear I see his eyes widen.

"I, uh, just wanted to let you know breakfast is ready," he stammers. "We're leaving in a couple hours."

I nod, scratching my hairy chest. "I'll be down in a minute. Gotta take care of this morning wood first." I wink at him, enjoying how he squirms.

As he scurries away, I can't help but feel a surge of... something. Pride? Lust? It's hard to tell these days. Everything just feels so damn good.

I make my way downstairs, the steps groaning under my weight. In the kitchen, my son and his boyfriend are already eating. The boyfriend - what was his name again? - looks up at me, his jaw dropping slightly.

"Morning, boys," I rumble, grabbing a chair and carefully lowering myself into it. The wood creaks ominously, but holds. "Pass the eggs, would you?"

As the boyfriend reaches for the plate, I can't help but notice how small his arms look. Weren't they bigger at the start of the trip? And his shirt seems baggy now, hanging off his frame.

"You feeling alright, son?" I ask, concerned. "You're looking a bit... deflated."

He blinks, confused. "I feel fine, Mr. Johnson. Why do you ask?"

I shrug my massive shoulders. "Just looking out for you. Can't have my future son-in-law wasting away, can I?"

My son chokes on his coffee, and I laugh, the sound booming through the kitchen. "What? You think I don't know? Please, boys. I may be old, but I'm not blind."

The boyfriend blushes, and I feel a stirring in my loins. Fuck, he's cute when he's embarrassed. I shift in my seat, trying to adjust my swelling cock without being too obvious.

"So, what's the plan for our last day?" I ask, shoveling eggs into my mouth. I'm always so damn hungry lately.

My son clears his throat. "Well, we thought we might hit the slopes one last time. You up for it, Dad?"

I grin, flexing my arm. The sleeve of my t-shirt - already stretched to its limit - finally gives up and splits along the seam. "You bet your ass I am. Think they make skis big enough for me?"

As we finish breakfast and start getting ready, I can't shake this feeling of... power. It's like I'm more alive than I've ever been. Every movement feels charged with energy, every glance from others filled with awe or lust or both.

In the ski lodge, I can feel all eyes on me as I struggle to find gear that fits. The largest ski jacket barely zips over my chest, and I've given up on finding pants that can contain my thighs and ass.

"Fuck it," I mutter, stripping down to my underwear. "I'll ski in my boxers if I have to."

My son looks mortified, but his boyfriend can't seem to tear his eyes away from my body. I wink at him, enjoying the way he squirms.

As we make our way to the lifts, I notice how people part before me like the Red Sea. Men stare in envy, women (and more than a few men) in naked lust. I breathe deep, the cold air filling my massive lungs, my cock swelling with each admiring glance.

At the top of the run, I look down the slope, feeling invincible. "Race you boys to the bottom," I challenge, my voice a low growl that seems to vibrate through the air.

Before they can respond, I push off, my powerful legs propelling me down the mountain. The wind whips past me, my nearly-naked body impervious to the cold. I hear whoops and cheers as I fly past other skiers, my massive form a blur of muscle and motion.

As I cross the finish line, far ahead of my son and his boyfriend, I roar in triumph. The sound echoes across the valley, and I swear I feel the mountain tremble beneath my feet.

God, it feels good to be a man.

#muscle theft #muscletheft #dad #reality change #thefty-o

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incognit0slut · 1 year ago

Text

Right Kind of Wrong (13)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Seeking pleasure leads them down an unforeseen path. wc: 4k

Part Warnings: 18+ explicit content including handcuffs, overstimulation, dom spence, very rough unprotected sex, and angst. So much angst.

a/n: this part is supposed to be jarring, but it is still consensual, it's just... ill-timed?

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

THERE WAS NOTHING GENTLE ABOUT HIS TOUCH. The moment the cool metal clasped around her wrist there was a subtle change in his demeanor.

There was something foreign about him. Something rough, something rugged, something very different from the soft and warm gestures his hands held every time he touched her. All she could feel now was hot, scorching heat that had her body burning for more.

To think this was the same guy who stuttered the first time they met was bewildering. It was unsettling, even, at how the difference was so jarring. Although she had seen him drown himself in his own anger and frustration, she had never felt it until now. It was exhilarating and nerve-racking at the same time, even when she was the one who had offered herself to him.

"You're nervous," he pointed out, his gaze dropping down towards her wrist.

"No," she blurted before she could stop the lie.

His eyes narrowed just the smallest fraction. Spencer could feel what was left of his rationale was dissipating before his very eyes. He swallowed hard, the Adams of his apple bobbing as his gaze met hers. He wet his lips with one swipe of his tongue.

"You should be."

And then he yanked her, jolting her without warning. He guided her towards the bed, pushed her onto the soft mattress, and soon came to kneel beside her. Her heart hammered against her chest as he lifted the cuffs, effectively pulling her hand up above her before he grabbed onto her other wrist. It wasn't until she heard a clear snap that she realized he had tied both of her hands to one of her bedposts.

The clink of the handcuffs jingling above her head was making a steady rhythm as she tried to wiggle her way out from their cold grasp. The steel bit into her soft flesh, clinging to her wrists with a vice-like grip. A whine escaped her as he backed away, taking in the sight of her, exposed and naked right at his mercy.

Shamelessly and almost predatorily, Spencer's eyes raked over every inch of her body. Her trembling lips, throat swallowing as little whimpers escaped her mouth. Her heaving chest with every labored breath as the muscles on her stomach tensed, goosebumps decorating her skin. And then came the best part of it all, his eyes rested right between her thighs where her heat shimmered with her arousal.

She gulped beneath his gaze. Every limb of her was threatening to jolt off the mattress at any given second, every sense and every nerve alert and on edge. Every bated breath of hers was on tenterhooks. Was this fear? Some part of it felt like it. But the other part? The whole other part that had her feeling breathless as he climbed onto the bed, his hands dropping down onto her bare legs before spreading them apart?

That was definitely lust.

There was a moment of quiet, the air thick with tension and anticipation, as he gazed at her, before he crashed his lips against hers, grabbing her hair to yank her head back, his other hand gently cradling the side of her neck.

The kiss was messy. His lips moved desperately against hers, tongues colliding almost hungrily as if he had been craving her taste this whole time. And maybe he did, after what they had been through—every frustration, every anger—he longed to devour her again. And she tasted just as good, even fucking better, and there was nothing in the world that could stop him from earning what he desired.

His lips moved down her jaw, nipping and kissing down her throat before feeling her move. "Stop squirming," he huffed impatiently, licking a hot, wet stripe down her neck and biting down on the skin at her collarbone.

A soft gasp escaped her. Who was this man? There was something so primal about him. Something that drilled right down to her core. Something dirty, filthy. Something animalistic. Something raw.

Her breath was then caught in her throat as his lips moved lower and she helplessly watched his tongue slip out, licking partway down her cleavage. She whined when his fingers grazed her breasts, his large palms squeezing them as his teeth nipped at her skin.

Almost instinctively, her hands once again pulled at the restraint, desperate to touch him in return, but she couldn't move. It was torture. To crave him yet not have the power to do so, and it wasn't even more torture that all she could do was merely watch.

Her breathing became harsher when he lowered his head and ever so gently, his tongue slid out, circling her nipple. The light touch felt so damn good that her head fell back against the headboard, eyelids closing. He released her nipple from his mouth, a smug smirk on his mouth as his other hand deftly slipped her other breast, pinching the stiffening peak between his fingers as he gazed back at her.

"Are you going to listen now?" He hummed, his breath brushing against her skin. "Are you going to understand how reckless you were?"

"I..." she breathed out, trying to control the pleasure taking over her body. "I wasn't reckless."

He tugged onto her nipple, earning a loud cry from her. "Wrong answer." And then his thumb brushed over it again, soothing the pain he had caused while his mouth closed around the other bud.

Her eyes drifted down to where his tongue lapped around her hard peak—sucking, nipping, grazing it softly between his teeth. She became acutely aware of how aroused she was getting even in this position. Never in her life had she ever considered being bounded and manhandled by a man, yet here she was, restrained to her bedpost with her legs wide apart.

Spencer could feel her body shaking, and he also noticed the way her legs grew further apart the more he continued to suck on her breast. His hand tugged onto her nipple one last time before it trailed down her stomach, past her hips, and stopped right at the center of her heat.

One stroke of his finger between her folds was all it took for her to buck her hips forward, eagerly begging for his attention. She could feel the smile on her skin as he continued to explore the wetness pooling between her thighs. "You'll listen to me now."

And then she felt two of his fingers plunging into her without warning, without mercy. They thrust into her at a mind-numbing pace that had her gasping for air, mouth wide open as she arched off the bed.

She wasn't sure how long his fingers moved inside her, although she was certain she was going to reach her high sooner than expected. He must have noticed it too because he let out a low grunt while her walls clenched around him. His mouth closed over her nipple once again and he began to suck frivolously, leaving wet marks across her already damp skin.

And then he curled his fingers, and she was gone. She screamed, the familiar sensation taking over her body while he continued to thrust his fingers into her, ramming them so quickly while he leaned back, his eyes training on the sight before him. Her eyes were half-closed, her mouth hanging open, her chest heaving in quick breaths, her nipples hard and wet from his assault, and then there were his fingers buried deep inside her, her slick arousal coating every inch of his hand.

He slowed down his movements and felt her slowly relaxing, which was something he didn't approve of. He felt an insidious pull, an irresistible gravity that threatened to drag him into a sinister longing, something so out of character that it sent shivers down his spine.

He knew he shouldn't succumb to this desire, that it was something he would regret. But in that moment, he couldn't help it. The darkness within him surged, and he found himself moving closer to her as he whispered, "One."

Her eyes flickered with slight confusion, but it quickly left as he adjusted himself on the bed, her eyes briefly catching sight of his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants before he lowered himself to the bed. The moment she knew what he was doing, her walls tightened in anticipation around his fingers. And then his mouth was just barely on her clit, his plump lips grazing the sensitive bundle of nerves as his hot breath washed over her. Instantly her hands tugged against the restraints, a moan flying out of her.

"Stop moving," he grunted, before pressing his tongue flatly against her clit and lapping at the small bulb gently, occasionally lowering his tongue lower to lap her arousal that continued to flow, lewd sounds leaving his lips.

His movements were suddenly fast, so feral and animalistic as he shamelessly lapped her skin, swallowing every liquid dripping off her body. Tears brimmed the corner of her eyes as she felt his thick fingers pumping in and out of her at a rate that was sending her closer and closer to her second climax.

It wasn't really the stimulation of his tongue and fingers that had her tethering over the edge, although they did play a big role in the familiar pull building in her stomach, but it was the sight of him between her thighs. The way his soft curls framed his face, a few strands of them sticking onto his forehead from all the sweat. The way his mouth closed around her clit, sucking onto the sensitive bud so hard she could hear the mess her body was making.

And there was his eyes. They held a molten mix of desire and longing, bore into her soul, igniting a fire within her. They held an unmistakable hunger, like a predator fixated on its prey. She couldn't help but be drawn into the intoxicating pull of his lustful gaze, a magnetic force that left her shattering, the intensity of the pleasure finally consuming her body once again.

Her thighs quivered around his face, her stomach coiling as he moaned and tasted her, swallowing every last drop of her scent. Pleasure enveloped her like a sensuous embrace, causing a delicious, tingling sensation to ripple through her body. Her wrists tugged onto the metal link binding her but there was nothing she could do, so she surrendered herself to the all-encompassing ecstasy that consumed her body, leaving her breathless and utterly lost in this blissful chaos.

It wasn't until she felt him slowing down that she focused her attention back on him, panting heavily as she tried to ease her breathing. He then pulled away, his fingers slipping out of her with a squelch, and sat up.

"Two."

It was then she realized what he meant. Two orgasms. He was counting how many times he could make her fall apart.

"H-How much are you going to give me?" She asked in a soft whisper.

"As much as it takes for you to listen."

She was listening. Maybe not in the way he wanted her to, because let's be honest, an hour walking around without protection wasn't that bad. But she was listening to something else— his breath hitching every time his eyes caressed her body, the sound of the metal cuffs hitting the bedpost, and the rustle of clothes as his hand traveled down his body.

There was something about the way he sighed as he did it, about the way he reached down his heavy belt clinked, and opened his pants, she could barely handle the anticipation of what was to come. Pulling off his pants in a hurried manner, she noticed the wetness that stained his boxers. His painfully erect member stood proudly as he pulled it out, and he had no time to waste on the pleasantries—he ached to be inside of her as soon as he possibly could.

"You said I could use you?" He taunted, positioning himself right between her legs. "Should’ve been careful what you asked for."

She let out a gasp as he pushed her body into the mattress, ramming into her in one go. Her whole body throbbed with the way his cock stretched her, goosebumps decorating her skin as she pant eagerly. His hands clutched themselves onto her waist before he began to shallowly thrust himself into her, the wet slick glistening down her thighs and gushing further, coating his pelvis entirely.

His hands roamed down her body before stopping at the back of her thighs, pushing her legs down to her chest as he loomed above her, hips slamming against hers sloppily. A desperate plea fell from her lips as her eyes rolled in the back of her head and he groaned, pushing her body even further as he thrust harder, deeper, faster. The restraints around her wrist felt like they burned the raw skin where she had been struggling against his movements, her body jolting as another wave of pleasure ran through her body.

"Three," she squealed, legs tightening on either of his sides.

Then she spasmed, crying out loud at the sensation traveling along her core. The way her body shook only heightened his senses, and he couldn't help it when his hand fell between them, his thumb brushing over her sensitive clit in quick motions.

"Oh my god," she gasped, trying to squirm away from his assault. "S-Stop."

"Why?" He grunted, slowing down his thrusts yet picking up the speed of his thumb on her clit. "I'm simply using you, just like you asked me to."

He then wrapped her legs around his waist and leaned in closer. "I think I can give you another one."

Eyes locking with hers, he drew his slick-stained cock all the way out of her, just until his tip remained—before pushing back in, hard and fast, earning a loud cry from her. The mix of hurt and pleasure was dangerous, yet it was a welcomed warning that hummed through her body as the speed of his thrusts picked up again.

She slowly looked up at him, and in true honesty, he was a such sight to see. That look in his eyes was unforgettable, the strain on his face as he drove himself into her over and over. The curve of his cock stretched her in a way she had never felt before, and his thrusts were so aggressive it was getting too overwhelming. It was all-consuming as her whole body burned from the way his cock slammed into her, each thrust filling her walls until she was nothing but a whining mess.

"S-Spence." She whimpered through pouty lips, and she wasn't sure if he could even hear her when he sent her a drowsy look before his lips were on hers, tongue-twisting past her lips as he started a pace that was just as quick and ruthless as the last, perhaps even more. She was exhausted, her body was so heavy, and every grind of his cock made something ache deep in her abdomen.

A surprised gasp fell out of her mouth as one of his reached out round her throat with a light pressure. She moaned in response, offering her neck to him further. He let out a grunt before his hips continued their delicious movements, her head rolling even further back along the headboard, not even caring it was repeatedly smacking lightly into the wood behind her. She was too focused on his cock throbbing inside of her and that warm hand on her neck gently choking her.

Before she knew it, her eyes were momentarily rolling back, a moan building in her throat as her orgasm began to consume her. His hips rammed more enthusiastically into her, his hand tightening around her neck. "Four," Spencer announced between battered breaths, his own voice sounding strained. "Come with me."

She cried out, hands tugging at her restraints. She wanted to touch him, she wanted to reach out and run her hands over his back, but the cuff bit harshly into her wrists, holding her back in conjunction with his hand on her throat. The moment his deep, pleasure-filled rumble filled the bedroom at her struggles, she came hard on his cock at the same time he came undone. His body brutally crushed her as she felt his warmth seeping deep inside of her, her own body shuddering against his.

When her climax had washed over her, she was left dizzy and breathless. She slumped against the headboard, arms going slack against the cuffs. His loud panting breaths quickly filled her ears, then very abruptly he slipped his cock out from inside of her, his arms releasing their hold on her just as fast.

She watched as carefully got off the bed and in one quick motion, he zipped himself back into his pants, breath still heavy as he did. And while he did all that, she noticed he was oddly silent. He still remained silent as he maneuvered around to the side of her on the bed, reaching behind her before he pulled out a small key from the back of his pocket.

With a deliberate and practiced motion, he inserted the key into the small keyhole of the cuff, the tiny teeth of the key fitting perfectly. As the metal link opened and slid off her wrist, her skin underneath revealed the deep imprints left by the restraints, red lines encircling her wrists.

The room was filled with a heavy, unnerving stillness as she studied him, noticing the way his eyes were trained on her hands. He studied the bruises forming on her wrists. It was a visual reminder of the harm he had unintentionally inflicted, a stark testament to the damage done during what was supposed to be something intimate. The moment he stepped back and looked away, a heavyweight formed in her gut.

"I shouldn't have done that," he said, voice oddly quiet.

"What?" She asked, gently sitting up.

"I shouldn't have done that," he repeated. "That—that was so wrong. I..." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I was too rough."

Her eyes narrowed as he shook his head, still refusing to look at her. Something felt off.

"Spencer," she called out. "It was consensual on my part."

"Look at you!" He snapped, his gaze focusing on her wrist. "I hurt you. You have bruises because of me. I—I tied you up."

She swallowed hard, sliding off of the bed and making her way towards him "I gave you my permission," she reminded him. "I wanted this as much as you did."

"That was wrong of me," he reiterated, still not focusing on her. "Here I am, wanting to protect you, and look what I just did.”

"But you are protecting me. You've been looking out for me this whole time."

"We both know that's not true." He shot. He was shaking his head firmly again, his face shifting away from her. "We both know I haven't been easy on you—and yet I come here to speak to you like that? Touch you like that? Fuck you like that?"

He rarely let such vile words escape his lips, nor did he let his anger take over his emotions. But it wasn't directed at her—no, it was a furious self-condemnation that spilled forth, revealing an inner turmoil that had been simmering beneath his usual calm exterior, a contrast to what she was seeing now. His clenched fists and furrowed brow were clear indicators that the true battle was within himself.

"No. No, I shouldn't have done that to you."

Her mouth fell open, that heavy feeling in her stomach slowly making its way upwards, coming to wrap her heart. "Spencer, I gave you the consent to touch me."

"No," he said, taking another step back. "This—" He said, gesturing a hand between the obvious space between them, "—it can't continue. I'll only hurt you even more."

She was the one who took a step back this time.

"What are you saying?"

"This needs to stop—whatever this is. I-I can't focus on this case if I keep getting involved with you. You're supposed to be under my protection, I'm supposed to keep you safe and yet I'm the one hurting you."

Being questioned of her innocence was hurtful, being left without any word from him after that was also hurtful. But to hear him dismiss the times they had spent together, even when it wasn't perfect, sliced through the air, landing like daggers in her heart.

With her voice trembling but resolute, she asked, "Whatever this is? That's what you think of us... as whatever?"

Her words hung in the air, charged with a mix of hurt, frustration, and a demand for clarity. She locked eyes with him, waiting for his response. He tore away his eyes from her and the avoidance of his gaze only deepened the tension in the room.

"You deserve someone better, someone who won't accuse you wrongly, someone who won't hurt you when you need to be protected." There was a moment of silence before he continued with a certain edge in his voice. "Someone who's not a federal agent far from doing his job."

That was it. That was the nail in the coffin. Exhaustion suddenly settled over her like a heavy shroud. She had always been known for her resilience, and her unwavering determination, but today was different. The exhaustion from the sex, her emotional turmoil, and now his dismissal had drained her of the strength to fight back.

And then to make matters worse, his phone suddenly rang. That fucking damn phone. Her annoyance flared up like a smoldering ember as the phone disrupted yet another conversation. It wasn't the first time, and frustration had been building with each interruption. She wanted to snatch it out of his grip and throw it to the wall.

She saw him catch a glimpse of the device and she busied herself by tearing open her dresser, grabbing the first shirt she saw, and silently throwing it on. He was awfully quiet, which meant that his notification seemed more like a text rather than a phone call, and she continued to show her back to him. Not because she didn't want to see him, but rather she didn't want him to see her.

She was on the verge of tears.

You're a fucking idiot, she snapped to herself. Tears welled up in her eyes, catching her by surprise, and she battled the urge to let them fall. She berated herself inwardly, feeling vulnerable and exposed for getting emotional over what might seem trivial.

But she was too tired—of him, of herself, of everything. The weariness that had been weighing her down finally took its toll. Despite her efforts to stay composed, the overwhelming emotions got the best of her, yet she didn't want him to know how much of his words hurt her. She didn't even want to acknowledge him even when he was calling her attention.

"I need to go."

Of course, you do.

"I'll come back later."

Don't even bother.

"We can talk then."

Just fucking leave me alone.

With the unspoken tension lingering in the air, and knowing she wasn't going to acknowledge him anymore, he quietly left, giving her the solitude she seemed to crave. It wasn't until she heard the soft click of the door closing behind her that she finally fell back onto her bed, burying her face in her hands.

The entirety of the night was finally hitting her hard–she had felt a short freedom, which was considered as 'being reckless' according to Spencer. Then he came unannounced, tied her up onto her bed, and fucked her while also managing to break her heart to pieces, leaving her shattered and lonely.

She had no idea how her day had taken such a dark, heartbreaking turn.

>> NEXT PART

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pinkrelish · 2 years ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶It's Christmas morning at the Munson's and Adrie has a small request.✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, lovesick yearning, very light angst, 18+ for eventual smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 7/20 [wc: 3.4k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 7: Breakthrough

Dreams of sleeping in were crushed one tiny footstep at a time.

Morning broke through the burgundy bed sheet hung as a curtain in the window. Slivers of blue fought away the slumbering gloom clinging to the peeled wallpaper, invading the small bedroom in drowsy clock ticks. Murky wine-colored shadows caressed the bundled comforter, crowded the pillows, soothed closed eyes into sweet dreams. Darkness cradled his head and sold him a lullaby fantasy. An aching yearn of a dream where the cold penetrating the thin trailer walls was kept at bay by more than his own body heat. Arms encircling him, a kiss behind his ear, a gentle wake up call. An idyllic rapture easily woven from the fibers of his unguarded heart. An aspiration quickly escaping his wishful fingers at the sound of running, and the vibrations of the trailer shaking, and–especially–the little voice yelling at him his five extra minutes were up.

“Daddy! You have to wake up.” Adrie jumped knees-first onto the mattress, and bounced her way over to him. “It’s Christmas, you have to get up!”

He grumbled from his warm pocket of air under the covers, and she whined.

“Please,” she begged, crawling towards him.

He winced, and hissed, “Ow-ow-ow, watch the hair. Miss Mouse won’t like me if I go bald.” He dropped his head back to where she sank her mighty fists into his pillow, and she apologized by putting all her strength into shaking his shoulder instead.

Wayne called from the kitchen, “I’m gettin’ started on our famous Christmas casserole.”

“Now that,” Eddie said in an upbeat tone, “I’ll get up for.”

“You’re mean,” Adrie pouted, scooting until her knees dug into his spine, and added on to it by saying it wasn’t fair he was making her wait to open presents.

Eddie twisted around to see her manufactured sad face (practiced over the years to elicit the strongest pity in him), and he snaked his arm out of the blankets to hook it around her, bringing her wriggling self in for a sloppy kiss on her forehead. She made a ‘yuck!’ sound and pushed away.

“Go sit, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Willfully, Adrienne slipped from his hold and sprinted the length of the trailer, rattling the metal window panes along her way.

In the following moment of quiet, he inhaled deep, and sighed through his hands scrubbing over his face. The oil in the electric radiator popped. A bird chirped. Music blasted from a neighbor’s home. A faraway bike skidded, spitting up loose rocks from the trailer park’s entrance.

Eddie rolled onto his back, and blinked at the stained ceiling. He tried to not make a habit of sleeping in Adrie’s bed now that she was older, but sometimes his back cried for a break from the lumpy couch cushions.. His back, his hips, his knees, his neck. All of it. Every now and then he needed the relief, to flatten himself out on the mattress after several long days of work wearing down on his body, even if it was considered weird or wrong by others.

Swinging his legs over the short drop to the floor, Eddie straightened out his thick knit socks, sweatpants, sweatshirt. He rubbed his knuckles against his dry eyes, stinging a line of water along his lashes. Flipped off the switch to the heater. Ran his fingers through his tangled hair, mouth tasting of stale beer from drinking last night with Wayne.

He stepped out of the room that used to be his, and staring at him down the hallway, past the kitchen, at the other end of the lousy home, was his little girl. She sat crisscrossed at the stout tree smelling of fresh sap, illuminated by colorful strands of lights, and backed by old ornaments previously stored in cardboard boxes. Her eyes sparkled with silver tinsel happiness, and her springy curls bounced with the excitement of her wave.

Wayne wrung a damp dish towel around his hands as he and Eddie made their way to the couch, and he gestured at her. “Alright, darlin’, you can go.”

The sacrifices were worth it.

In this lousy home filled with overdue bills and underprivileged struggles, was an abundance of love and awe. Eddie sat at the edge of his make-do bed with scratchy cushions that chafed his skin raw, and brushed his shaky fingers over his lips. “Yeah? Is that the one you wanted?” he asked, grinning so wide his puffy sleep-deprived eyes nearly closed from the unbridled joy he felt watching his daughter tear into the Rockin Robot cassette player and recorder; a toy which had an attached microphone so she could record herself singing onto blank tapes. “Wanna make music just like me?”

“Yes! I love it!”

It didn’t take long for Adrie to open her presents in the established order–smallest to largest. Stocking stuffers first, which she dumped out onto the pine-needled carpet, and snatched all the chocolates to put on the coffee table next to the plate of cookie crumbs and empty Looney Tunes mug. Tossed the pack of new socks and dress into a pile, but wore her pink rain boots. The talking Barney the Dinosaur doll, cassette recorder, and Barbie Fold ‘n Fun play house were placed aside for assembly and batteries later.

Wayne gathered the ribbons and bows she discarded to be saved for next year, and said, “Okay, Miss Adrie. Looks like you have one present left.”

The forest green bag with a portrait of Saint Nick sat propped against the tree, nearly as tall as Adrie when she stood and grabbed the handles. She peeked inside, and in one motion, dropped to the floor, and dislodged gift after gift. An eight-page book with reusable stickers she could move around to create scenes of dinosaurs roaming the land. A big box of 64 crayons with two coloring books. A plastic jewelry making kit. A puzzle. Containers of Play-Doh. And the very last item, turned over and shaken out from the bag, was a unicorn.

Adrie squealed, and swept the stuffed animal into her arms for a merciless hug. “He’s so cute!” she said, burying her face in the powder blue fur.

Eddie stopped tracing his lips. Wayne tilted his head at the scene, confused.

Spotting a small red envelope amongst the torn newspaper her presents were wrapped in, Adrie picked it up, and mouthed out the handwriting she wasn’t familiar with. “Santa left this for you.” Adrie held it out for Eddie to take.

Prying his gaze off the unexpected hoard, he accepted the envelope with his name on it, not uttering a word, nor reacting more than necessary. She bolted for her toys, and Wayne’s scrutiny was hot on the side of his expressionless face, watching him slide his finger under the corner of the flap and break the seal gently, avoiding tearing the paper.

He pulled out the card to reveal an illustration of two cardinals in a pine tree flocked with white glitter snow with a generic greeting on the front. Certain words were underlined in pen afterwards.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

He opened it to see if anything was written inside.

One glimpse.

He smashed the card closed and turned his face away from his uncle.

Collecting himself, Eddie sniffed and ran his knuckles along his jaw until he reached back and wrung his nape as he stood up, and walked to the coat hooks, slipping on his jacket and shoving his feet into his work boots without acknowledging his family.

“Where’re you–?” Wayne stared at his back in quiet bafflement.

“Goin’ out for a smoke,” he answered, and shut the door behind him.

~~~

Tree branches stilled after the delicate breeze knocking them together ceased. Hungry dogs went inside for kibble and warm blankets. Kids stopped riding their bikes when their moms called their names. Humidity dampened the crisp air. Everything hushed.

Eddie sat on the frumpy loveseat on the porch built onto the trailer. His forearms laid on his thighs, and the card remained clapped between his palms. He took a shaky breath. Exhaled. Or tried, anyway, to breathe despite his nose stopping up.

He opened the card again and read the message spanning the entire blank space available.

merry christmas eddie,

i hope adrie likes the gifts!

i know it’s hard for you to find peace,

so i tried going for quiet things that would

keep her busy, like the puzzle. it’s double sided!

that’ll keep her entertained. and i loved

play-doh as a kid, so i hope she does

too. & i can get her more coloring books if

she doesn’t like the animal ones. i know

Continued on the other side–

the bracelet kit says ages 7+ but maybe

you can supervise her. i remember having

one when i was little, before parents cared if

we choked on the beads.

SEASONS GREETINGS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR

if she’s not still in her unicorn phase, spare me!

it was too cute to pass up.

anyway, please get lots of rest over the holidays.

you deserve to relax.

–♡–

mouse

His daughter came dashing out the door, and ran up to him with her jacket flapping around her arms. He shoved the card under his thigh, and shifted his focus to zipping it up for her to silence his emotions from surfacing, not having the energy to risk shattering the facade of the morning by explaining why the unicorn she galloped up his leg meant more to him than it did her.

“You like what Santa got you?” he asked, running a heavy hand over her hair.

“He knew exactly what I wanted,” she rejoiced.

With the temperature dropped, and her boots shiny, she raced the stuffed animal up to his hip, and left him to babysit it while she played outside in the frozen-over yard.

Gladly, he tucked the unicorn companion under his arm as Wayne pushed open the squeaky side door and joined him.

Under normal circumstances, Wayne’s old man stoicism worked wonders on getting Eddie to talk. It was a sure thing. He’d see him come home with red-rimmed eyes, or that far away gaze on the worser days, and he sat in earnest patience, knowing his nephew needed the cool down time to organize his thoughts, and then he’d explain what had him upset.

It worked less well in the years following the incident which led to Eddie’s ostracization from Hawkins, but he just had to be patient. It would work. Eventually. Just had to be patient.

And when his nephew refused to speak, Wayne sparked up a cigarette, and ventured, “I don’t, uh, remember us buyin’ those last presents.”

“They’re from the receptionist at work,” Eddie stated. He didn’t move his gaze from staring holes into the worn down floorboards, but he did sink back into the couch, combing his fingers through the unicorn’s white mane.

“Oh,” Wayne said in genuine surprise. “That was nice of her.”

Treading carefully, his uncle spun his hand as he thought of the best way to approach the real conversation he wanted to have. “She seems nice.. To you, and to Adrie.”

That was when Eddie shook his head. “I know where you're going with this,” he warned, absent of any real threat behind the words.

He went silent in stubbornness.

But Wayne just had to be patient.

“She’s very.. uh.” Eddie sighed. He started again, this time looking up at the rusted awning as if it had all the answers to his love life woes. “She’s very vibrant, y’know? From the city, lives a big life, loves performing for people. She doesn’t need a gray cloud like me hanging over her.” He laughed a hollow laugh, and bumped his shoulder into Wayne’s, pretending their conversation was of the light-hearted variety. Like admitting these things aloud didn’t cause a devastating blow to his neglected self-esteem. “Doesn’t need someone like me tying her down to a place like this.”

Wayne scanned the same trailer park in the same small town with the same curse of bearing the Munson name, but he viewed them with less disdain. Less animosity. “You used to be vibrant too, kid. Used to always be talkin’ about your hobbies, playing music too loud, sittin’ out here with your guitar. Always bringing your friends over. What happened?”

Too many things happened, and they were not the kind he verbalized often, so Eddie chose the most obvious.

The corner of his mouth twitched at the joke flashing through his mind. He got in real close to Wayne’s face, raised his hand, and directed his attention. “My vibrancy’s currently ruining her new shoes.”

Tracking his finger, Wayne slowly turned his head in time to see Adrie crack the ice barring her from a puddle, and stomped it into smithereens, sending mud up her pajama pants and into her pretty pink rain boots. She jumped, and jumped, and giggled, and jumped, all over her dad’s heart.

Satisfied, Eddie hugged the unicorn to his chest after making his point.

“Have you considered maybe she likes gray clouds? Or she’s the type that looks forward to the rainy days?”

“We can drop the weather analogies, Wayne,” he said in a curt tone, cutting off his uncle's incessantness. “It’s not that, anyway. I know she likes me, I’m not that dense.”

Wayne didn’t put much effort into keeping the humor out of his voice, “Then what are you being dense about?” The contemptuous head tilt and accompanying eye roll were earned, but not regretted.

“She might be moving away at the end of summer.”

He took a long drag on his cigarette. “Might be?”

“She doesn’t know yet.”

He watched Eddie’s expression slacken to stark blankness again–face and posture wilting, weighed down by his fate–already resigning on a relationship he hadn’t yet given a chance. “Don’t you want to at least try? I mean, you never know. What if she–?”

“Don’t you think I’ve thought about that?” Eddie interrupted, growing annoyed at the topic and allowing it to seep into his temper. “Don’t you think I’ve sat here, day after day, and thought about it from all angles? Over, and over.” He became more animated as he spat out questions rapid-fire. “What if she stays? What if she leaves? What if things work out? What if they don’t? Do I deserve it even if it’s short term? Can I handle it when Adrie asks me why she’s not around anymore? Like, fuck. It’s all I think about. Constantly! Just again, and again. She could move back to New York and live her accomplished life without ever giving me another thought, but what if she doesn’t want to go back? What if she wants to stick around? What if she wants to work with me at the garage forever, and we get married, and buy a small house with a white picket fence, and live out our textbook dream together with 2.5 kids and a dog. Who knows!” Done ranting, Eddie ended it in a full bodied shrug, and collapsed into the cushions, releasing the most cathartic, yet dramatic sigh Wayne had ever heard. “She’s all I think about. Drives me insane.”

Wayne held out the pack of Camels to him, but it was rejected in a limp wave.

“I..” Eddie’s mouth hinged on the words, bottom lip quivering as the questions he posed washed over him as an exhausted, watery-eyed truth, “I didn’t even realize how bad the stress had gotten until she just..” He motioned. “Fixed it.”

Acknowledging the bitter reality, Wayne nodded. “You are much nicer to be around since you two started hanging out.. Adrie sees it, too.”

Not that Eddie meant to be an asshole, but after grueling hours of hard labor, he had little tolerance for the arguments before bath time, or the meltdowns before school. Months prior, he was alongside his daughter, crying harder than she did when the smallest inconvenience set her off, ending with both of them huddled on the floor; one of them screaming to be understood, and the other in a hopeless heap of a man who reduced himself to a shitty father who couldn’t do anything right, drowning under the pressure, anxiety, responsibility to not fuck up again.

Now, he was able to swim to the sun glimmering on the surface.

Wayne landed his rough palm atop Eddie’s untamed bedhead, and soothed him, “You should give yourself a chance at something great. I’ll be here to pick up the pieces if it doesn’t work out.”

Eddie sniffed, and wrung his lips to the side. “You gonna pick up Adrie’s pieces too?” he asked softly.

“I will, son.” Despite the rocky times in their relationship–the slammed doors, the yelling matches, the coming home with a newborn and no money to afford baby formula–Wayne promised him, “Whatever it takes to make you happy. I’ll do it.”

The egg timer in the kitchen dinged.

“Breakfast’s ready,” he grunted, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray, and giving the quick-nod-with-a-flattened-smile older men were known for after confiding in one another, and he went inside.

There wasn’t much time for Eddie to process the weight of his internal decision before Adrie was climbing onto the loveseat. And if she noticed she left a trail of mud up his pant’s leg on her way to kneeling beside him, she didn’t care. All that mattered was her icicle skin melting in the warmth of his heavy arm wrapped around her middle; and effortlessly, she fell into the comfort of his embrace while working her hands beneath his hair, untucking it from his jacket’s collar, and hugging him back.

Eddie stashed the card in his pocket, and grabbed the unicorn by the back of its head, putting the nose to her cheek and pretending it was giving her kisses. “Did you have a good Christmas?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, pulling strands of his curls around her fingers while her cold nose was pressed to his throat. “Can Miss Mouse come over to play?”

“Not today. She’s busy with her own celebrations.”

It was weird how calmly he could answer her. No twisted tongue sitting in his mouth like lead, no tensed stomach from an assault of nerves, no racing thoughts of you and Adrie becoming too close before he was ready to disappoint her. The fear was still there, of course. But he didn’t dread it. He held his daughter tucked against his body, and whispered into the unruly hair she inherited, “But she will soon, okay?”

“Yay!” She showed her excitement by constricting her arms around him in a perfect vice.

He wedged the unicorn between them and scooped her onto his hip. “What say you, Princess Adrienne? Shall we go in for a bit of Christmas morning casserole, and partake in reindeer games after getting you into your winter attire? Hmm?” She wasn’t responding. “Adrie?”

Her mouth was hung open, and her hand out, palm turned upward, making a grabby motion at something over his shoulder.

Eddie listened to her, and turned.

Snow fell, fell, fell from the low hanging clouds smudging the sky in shades of gray, bestowing the trailer park with fat flakes drifting beyond the safety of the porch, melting onto the dead grass and brushing past his car’s mirror. Pretty, pretty things of childlike magic Adrie caught on her fingertips. Special things floating to the edge of the wobbly floorboards, and sticking to his hair for her to laugh at.

“I love you,” he said in a kiss to her bitter cold cheek.

“Love you too, Daddy,” she replied in the same fashion, with an additional kiss from the unicorn to the tip of his nose.

Doors around the trailer park opened. Wide eyes of wonder gazed up, and around, searching for friends to celebrate with. Eddie felt exposed in his all black outfit against the growing landscape of white. They were looking at him. Judging him. Munson. But, unlike any other day, the desire to bolt from their intrusive stares dwindled with each graze of his thumb over the card in his pocket.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #the yes policy

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siriusleee · 6 months ago

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.22

a short thing using your favorite characters to remind you that 22 veterans commit suicide a day, and that this memorial day is not supposed to be a party. veterans get chewed up and spit out by a system that doesn't care about them, and while fiction is fun, we should remember that. mentions of canon typical violence and suicide. it's a fic about military men, you should already know.

The 7.62 is hot.

Yesterday was another funeral, skipped in favor of the shooting range. There's a new one almost every week.

22 veterans die everyday!

A deafening crack - one thick finger on the base of a hair trigger. The casing burns his forearm when it flies out.

Today is 23, but he's almost sure that the poster in the base's med hall doesn't count the ones on the other side of the scope. Or maybe it does. It's not his job to ask those kinds of questions.

Price's voice cracks in the comms. He sounds old - they all sound old these days. This is not an old man's job, not with the way the arthritis is starting to eat at the base of his spine; not the way the hairline fractures spiderwebs away from his left knee.

But they move on like young men - him and Kyle crawling in the dirt towards another bunkhouse, another step closer to Makarov, another step closer to bullet for Johnny.

Simon is tired of feeling old. He's tired of the dirt beneath his nails, the gunpowder smell that clings to him no matter how long the shower lasts. Him and Johnny used to joke about going on vacations with the wives they don't have, watching the children they don't pretend to name chase each other on the warm sand of some beach they've only bled on before. They were supposed to feel young again in their retirement.

But Simon gets older with every passing minute; every knife that knicks the bones and cartilage that threatens to break down. Retirement isn't coming, he thinks.

He's not Superman after all.

There's a .22 in the drawer of his bedside table.

Lately he's been sleeping with it underneath the pillow. Memory foam. Thick. It's supposed to block out the feeling of the mattress springs digging into his neck, but it doesn't block out everything.

He's a dog, spinning around in place to make the bedding more comfortable. But the grass isn't laying down evenly, and there's just a stick digging into the tender flesh of his abdomen beside something that was probably once a set of black stitches.

22 veterans die everyday!

The 7.62 is hot; the bullet shatters another skull, another set of dreams. Another mother with a notice of her son's death at her doorstep, falling into a crumpled heap while her husband tries to hold back his own tears.

24 now.

Suicide is the biggest killer of veterans, mowing them down the way an enemy force could only wish they could. But isn't this all suicide?

Isn't it suicide to stand in front of a fucking open window when you know there's an unknown sniper on the knoll? Is it really warfare?

Price barks at them to get up, to get going into the house.

Vengeance doesn't wait after all.

22 veterans die everyday!

Simon is exhausted by it all - by the blood and viscera, and the death and destruction. Nothing prepares you for the way fat melts, the way it makes your skin sticky and you can taste it on your lips; the house burns behind him after they ransack it. He doesn't remember who dropped the match. Does it matter?

Does it matter who's pocket it came out of?

22 veterans die everyday!

The .22 is cold beneath Simon's pillow. He can feel it when he gets home and crashes into bed, still dirty from the long flight and his refusal to shower in unfamiliar hotel rooms. He shouldn't be able to feel it through the memory foam - it's supposed to block out all those lumps and bumps anyway.

22 veterans die everyday!

Midnight rolls around - the 12:00 flashing red in the darkness.

It's back to 0, Simon reckons, shifting so the .22 isn't pressing into the base of his skull.

He needs to get some sleep - tomorrow is another day of hunting down Makarov.

Another 22 gone.

#simon ‘ghost’ riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simong ghost riley #my fics #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty

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perlelune · 10 months ago

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no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | viii.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

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

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

A wretched whimper flies from your mouth as Coriolanus’ hips buck into yours mercilessly. His balls squish into your ass with each of his deep, cruel thrusts. The bed rattles with his frenzied motions, the mattress squeaking beneath your bodies. To your utter despair, every time his cock grazes your sensitive spots, stars twinkle in your vision, your toes flexing and your mind blanking from maddening pleasure. It’s like he’s right at home in your cunt, your warm walls welcoming his thick girth with ease, your body keening in both agony and bliss.

Your head lolls against the soft pillows, your bound arms limp above you. You’re spread-eagled as he ruts into you, the thin, white nightgown bunched around your waist leaving you completely exposed to his ravenous gaze.

Your throat is raw from all the screaming and sobbing. Your body is sore and worn-out from Coriolanus’ rough handling. And your mind is numb with fear and pain, no thoughts wandering through it as you peer up at the ceiling.

His fingers travel to your tender bud, plucking at the sensitive place, drawing relentless patterns until you grow slick and hot, the room growing hazy around you. Your legs tense and tremble, liquid fire spreading through your body. Your eyes roll back, the air faltering in your lungs. The orgasm quakes through you, fast and hard, and your walls cling to Coriolanus’ cock in response. He purrs in delight. A wave of shame and horror sweeps through you.

Your own body will not stop betraying you. Coriolanus knows exactly which chords to strike to make you sing for him, the chill-inspiring symphony of your own voice warping in stolen bliss resonating in your ears.

You almost find yourself wishing he’d just use you and be done with it. Instead, he appears adamant to have you come around him as many times as possible.

If it could simply end…

But you’ve stopped hoping for that hours ago. Every plea spilling from your tongue is just an incentive for him to rain more hurt upon you. Each time you beg, the fingers around your throat squeeze more tightly. Every time you complain, his thrusts grow more animalistic.

It’s like he’s trying to fuck the fight out of you, push out every shred of willpower with his cock.

And perhaps he’s succeeded. Because as you lie beneath him, there is not an ounce of hope remaining inside you.

It’s not like Coriolanus will let you simply walk away after this, after he exerted so much effort to mark every inch of your flesh, after he ruined you for every other man, including your own fiancé.

His hips stutter as his pace slows, his cock dragging out of you sluggishly. The hand around your neck slackens, traveling to your chest to cup your breast.

His head falls into the crook of your neck as he nears his peak. You’ve learnt to recognize the signs now. His flushed cheeks. His hollow breaths. The way his thick lashes flutter right before he comes undone.

He thrusts inside you deeply one last time. Your eyes widen, your back arching as tingles dance through your core.

You and Coriolanus come apart together.

A throaty moan climbs up his throat. He spills inside you, like he’s done all night long. The sticky excess trickles down your thigh.

When he’s done, a heavy breath flows from his lips and tickles your neck. Still nestled in your wet heat, he trails soft kisses alongside your throat. You shudder. For some time, the blonde stays like this, seeming to bask in the feeling of your core fluttering around him, your skin flush against his, your soft breaths mingling with his. Eventually, he rises.

You lie unmoving on the sheets, feeling dead inside. You blink. There’s a lot more light in the room now, you realize.

The morning light illuminates his naked form, dancing over his bare muscles. His blonde locks glow like spun gold in the sunlight. Your stomach lurches.

How can someone this beautiful have such a hollow heart?

The muscles of his back ripple as he stretches his neck. He strolls to the closet and pulls out a crimson silk robe that he tosses on himself.

He circles back to the bed.

You tense when he bends over you, expecting the torment to start anew. Trembling, you close your eyes.

He unleashes a heavy sigh, the click of the handcuffs being unlocked reaching you.

“It’s alright, princess,” he says. You gasp, opening your eyes. He seizes your untied wrists, his thumbs sweeping over the swollen dents on your flesh. You flinch at his touch. His forehead creases. “I’m sorry it came to this. If only you hadn’t been so difficult.”

He leans to drop a tender kiss on your cheek. He strokes the crown of your head. Your hair is a matted mess. You must look a fright.

“I’ll have a bath drawn for you. It’ll make you feel better,” he chimes, your heart bouncing when he suddenly gets to his feet. He ties the silk belt of the robe to cover his nakedness and strides out of the room.

You note that he doesn’t lock it. Should you make a run for it, part of you faintly wonders.

Perhaps, you could try to rush down the stairs and reach the front door. Then what? Too many people stand between you and freedom. Even Tigris, who betrayed you. She’d send you right back to her cousin. Back for more punishment you doubt you’ll be able to withstand.

You bring your knees to your chest and huddle against the headboard.

William crosses your mind. What must he think? You sent him away, you avoided him. He must be so confused. Maybe he even hates you now. And your parents…They have to be wondering where you are by now. The thought of causing them any stress or worry makes your chest ache. They don’t deserve that, especially after what they’ve been through these last few months.

The door opens and several maids carrying pots enter the room. They empty steaming water into the clawfoot tub near the wall. They then scatter rose petals and a few drops of essential oils in the water. You observe them absently. Even from where you sit, the head-spinning smell of flowers and oils reaches you.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” you announce to the maid.

She tosses you a skeptical look. “Master Coriolanus said-”

“Would you rather I soil myself like a child?” you snap, your tone more strident than you intended. Wide-eyed, you burst out an exhale. You don’t remember ever sounding this angry. But the emotion had been building for a while inside you. All the hurt, the ire is making your overwrought edges crack at the seams. And now, you’re overflowing.

You doubt you’ll ever be the same. Whoever you were before has forever been altered.

The maid stiffens. “No, miss.”

Your brows twitch when you climb off the bed, pain thrumming through your body.

The sticky sensation between your legs makes your insides clutch in horror.

You stagger through the bedroom, knees threatening to buckle with every shaky step.

The maid trails after you as you go outside. Stepping outside the room feels forbidden. You dread to find him hiding in a corner, ready to chastise you for wandering without his permission.

Even in the toilet, you hardly get any privacy, the maid lingering by the door the entire time. You feel self-conscious as you empty your bladder, the dripping of water awkwardly filling the silence. As soon as you get out, she leads you right back to the room.

Your heart jumps.

Coriolanus is back. He’s casually sitting on the bed, one knee bent, the silk robe barely covering his nakedness. The maid flushes hotly, a string of apology pouring from her mouth before she takes her leave. The door slams shut behind you and you tremble.

He approaches you, his strides smooth and his eyes on you sharp. He gauges your shivering form. Your lips tighten as you stand still, so dizzy with fear you feel as if you might pass out any minute. He tugs on the string of your nightgown. The sheer fabric loosens around your chest. He pulls down the sleeves. The material pools at your feet, leaving you completely exposed. Goosebumps erupt on your flesh, from the cool air or the intensity of his cobalt stare; you can’t say.

He hoists you in his arms. You don’t resist, falling limp in his embrace. He gingerly places you in the bathtub. Ribbons of steam float around you as you sink into the warm water.

The potent smell of the oils has your mind swirling.

He sheds his robe. Your breath is caged inside your lungs, fluttering like a bird struggling to get free, while you gape at him.

He climbs inside the tub. You freeze, stiff as a board when he settles behind you. His large body encases yours. His chest grazes your back. He pulls you against him and despite the warmth surrounding you, a chill travels through you.

His breath flows over your scalp.

“You’re not speaking to me.”

You let out a wry laugh. “What is there to say, Coriolanus?”

“No more Coryo?” His light, teasing inflection causes your hackles to rise. You recoil when his knuckles skim over your cheek.

“I know I said some bad things last night. I didn’t mean them, I was just so angry.” He pauses, placing his thumbs at the base of your neck. Sincerity vibrates in his tone as he continues. “The night of the party. I…I may have done some things, but it was because you confessed how you felt about me all these years. I guess you felt safe enough around me to admit it.”

Doubts creep inside you. That night is a blur, most of it an all too vivid nightmare you could only retrieve distorted glimpses of. Still, you remember doing shots and laughing with Coriolanus and his friends. Liquor made your tongue looser that night. And you may have shared certain secrets with him you wouldn’t have otherwise.

Perhaps there was even talk of a childhood crush many years ago.

Heat sneaks inside your cheeks.

“You’re remembering it now, aren’t you?” he hums, stroking your hair.

“Maybe…I don’t know…”

He chuckles softly. “You are.”

His damp locks brush against your cheek when he rests his chin on your shoulder, his arm wrapping around your waist below the water.

“Then we got into that room.” All the hairs on your body stand on end. His voice lowers, whisper-soft. “I wasn’t planning to do anything at first but you looked so tempting and I couldn’t resist. I know it’s not right but I couldn’t stop myself, princess. I realized…I felt something for you too. Something I couldn’t fight or ignore.”

Your lip quakes. Confusion twirls in your mind with his words, a weakness you thought buried long ago unfurling within you. A younger you would have died if Coriolanus said such things before. You remember when you were little, hanging to every word spilling from his tongue, flustered every time his eyes would find yours in school.

Frowning, you’re yanked back to reality by the press of his pillowy lips on your neck.

Right. The picture of the beautiful boy with gilded locks and bright blue eyes slowly chars in your mind, curling and twisting until it’s a pile of smoking ashes.

Coriolanus isn’t a little boy anymore. And you’re not a little girl.

It’s time to grow up.

Your mouth tightens. “You hurt me.”

“Well, you hurt me too,” he instantly replies.

Water and petals ripple around you when you rapidly whirl in the tub.

“What?”

His fingers seize your chin, his heated gaze enthralling yours.

“The things you said about Sejanus. That was cruel.”

"I d-didn’t-” you stammer.

Coriolanus doesn’t let you finish, squeezing your jaw as you wince.

“He really was my friend. The only real one I ever had.” His eyes flicker, his voice trembling ever-so-slightly. “Perhaps not at first, but in the end…If you don’t believe me, believe this at least, princess. I wouldn’t be who I am without your brother. I owe him for that.” His thumb traces your shuddering mouth. “No one but me can understand the depth of your loss, princess. Not even William. I’ve seen how he is with you. He doesn’t see you. He doesn’t understand you, not in the way I do.”

He cups your cheeks, looming over you. “You’ve put on a happy front for him, haven’t you? Even if grief’s been eating you up inside. Every second of every day…right?”

You blink furiously, chest igniting as he speaks. Confused thoughts collide into each other in your head. His words ache, but not because of all the awful things he did…but because they ring somewhat true. You have lied to William. You have smiled, laughed and shoved away your pain in order to not push him away. He was your sunshine and you’ve been afraid your dark clouds would dim his glow. You’ve pretended, with him, and with everyone else.

Coriolanus is the first person you haven’t needed to wear a mask with, your scars and wounds always in full display around him. You could talk to him for hours, sharing stories and anecdotes about your brother without fear of judgment. You could confess how much it still hurt, how you weren’t sure you’d ever manage to stitch back the torn pieces of your heart, that it felt like a piece of you shriveled and died with him.

Your own parents wouldn’t hear any of it, too cloistered in denial.

“Coryo…”

When you try to turn away from him, he lifts your head so you’re forced to drown in a sea of dizzying blue.

“You’d never have to pretend with me,” he promises. You unleash a shaky exhale. You hate that he sounds sincere. Tears rush behind your eyes, hanging precariously beneath your lashes. Coriolanus plucks at them, gentle and meticulous in collecting each one that spills.

His deep voice comes out calm as he says matter-of-factly, “I think, when the time is right and you’ve gathered yourself, we should tell your parents.”

You gasp. “Tell my parents what?”

He smirks.

“About our engagement, of course.”

The blood drains from your body, all of it seeming to plummet to your feet.

“Are you crazy?” you whisper, shock snagging the air from your lungs.

His lips expand to a wolfish grin as he cradles your face.

“Come on, princess. Be reasonable.” His gaze travels along your naked frame. You tremble. “After all, what man will want you now?” He snickers. “Even your beloved William. Do you truly think he’ll want you back when I tell him all the filthy things I’ve done to you, and how you clenched around me every time, desperate for more?” Dread grips your chest, your face set ablaze by his arguments.

He tilts his head, his expression smug.

“I could have any girl I want, but I’ve chosen you. So really…I’m the one doing you a favor.”

Coriolanus studies you for a while before adding, “Besides, half the Capitol already knows about us.”

Shock trickles inside you. “I thought you said…”

He shrugs, smiling. “I know what I said but Clemensia…she could never keep her big mouth shut.” Your chin lowers. He bends over your ear to mumble, “How do you think that would look, princess? Parading around with another man when everyone knows you’ve been in my bed.” Your heart misses a beat. “Appearances are everything in the Capitol. A single word in the right ear can make or break you. You’d disgrace William, and your parents.” Coriolanus gives a long sigh, his finger outlining your shaking jaw. “Is this really what you want? For them to suffer even more after Sejanus?”

“No…” you quaver, heavy breaths bursting from your throat.

He plants a soft kiss in the crook of your neck.

“Exactly. So let me take care of you. Let me protect you. Let me cherish you. Just give yourself to me, princess, and I promise you everything will be easier.”

Your mouth opens and shuts, ache bleeding from your chest. You find it hard to argue with him now, each of his honeyed words chipping at your resolve and confidence.

Perhaps you were mistaken all along. Perhaps you are right where you need to be, away from the people you could hurt, and right besides the one person who gets you the most. And as much as it tears you apart to admit, that person might be Coriolanus.

You’re not sure of anything anymore.

He pulls you in for a kiss, sluggish at first, then deep and hungry. As he explores your mouth, feverish tongue sweeping over yours, you don’t fight back. He hums, licking his swollen lips, as he parts from you.

“I have business in the city so come down for breakfast with Tigris and Grandma’am when you’re ready,” he chimes.

Water splashes when he heaves out of the tub. Droplets drip onto the carpet as he makes his way to the bed to grab his silk robe.

Once dressed, he returns to you and fondles the back of your head, crouching near the tub.

“I’m not closing the door because I want to give you a chance to prove to me what a sweet, obedient girl you can be, just like you’ve been this entire morning. Don’t disappoint me. I don’t want to have to use the handcuffs again.”

He drops a fleeting peck atop your head before rising.

“I know we can move past this, princess,” he says cheerfully as he leaves.

For a span of time that stretches like an eternity, you do not move.

You stare at a random spot on the wall in front of you vacantly. The water turns cold around you. Your skin prunes.

The bathwater is freezing by the time you finally exit the tub.

Numbly, you get dressed and drag your feet downstairs.

You find Tigris in her chair by the window.

As soon as she sees you, a panicked expression overtakes her features. She rushes to you and wraps you in a tight hug.

Dumbfounded, you blink at her when she releases you.

Her amber orbs glisten with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry. For everything,” she says, worry swimming in her eyes as she takes you in.

You shake your head. “What are you talking about, Tigris?”

A quaking breath leaves her as her hand flies to cover her mouth. She wipes a wayward tear and gathers herself. Peering right at you, she reveals, “Last night, I heard…” She blanches, swallowing hard. “I-I’m not sure what I heard. But I know it wasn’t good.”

Your jaw hangs slack. You wonder what thoughts ran through her mind and how bad it must have sounded to make her change her mind. Guilt bleeds in her tone. “I really really had hope for Coriolanus.” She squeezes your hands as her voice breaks. “I thought that’s what you were for him. His hope.”

No response flows from your lips. How ironic. It’s what you thought Coriolanus was to you. A shred of hope you sorely needed after the loss of your brother.

If you weren’t so numb, you might burst out in laughter.

Tigris grabs your hand and ushers you to the front door of the penthouse. You don’t react as she fumbles with the keys and opens it.

The two of you take the elevator down to the lobby.

When the elevator opens, she races to the exit door and you follow quietly behind her.

She pushes the door open.

A cool gust of wind sneaks inside the lobby from outside.

Shivers bloom on your skin.

“I called a car for you. It’ll take you home straight away.”

You look ahead. There is indeed a car parked out front. Tigris tosses concerned glances inside the building.

“You need to be quick before the staff notices I opened the door for you.” She gives you a little shove when she notices you’re not moving. “What are you waiting for?” she whispers urgently.

“I…I don’t know.” You peer down at your wrists. The marks left by the handcuffs are still embedded into your flesh. “I don’t know…” you repeat, stunned to realize how disturbingly true your words ring.

You look at the car again. Your ticket to freedom. It could take you back home. You could be ensconced in the familiar warmth of your own sheets in less than an hour.

There’s just one infinitesimal issue…

You genuinely aren’t sure you even should, or want to go back home.

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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wroteclassicaly · 10 months ago

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A/N: Work week blues. Should be sleeping, but my brain gave me the inspiration for this instead. 18+

“Honey…” He tries again, his fingers finding purchase scratching through your scalp.

You’re flipping around all over the bed, sheets becoming tangled around limbs, body in some eagered frenzy. He nearly whines with you, bushy brows pinched together as you lower yourself further down the mattress, manicured nails playing with the curls of thick leg hair that dust his inner thigh, his boxers having ridden up. He already looked at his watch to see it was almost 12:30 am, and while he doesn’t have a shift at the store in the morning — you do have work in just a few hours.

“Baby, we should be asleep. You know your schedule on Mondays.”

You raise a brow, before pushing one thigh apart from the other, anchoring yourself in between. You’re playfully amused, but your pupils have blown wide, your sclera wet with tears, gaze glazed over. It’s your tell-tale sign of being gone. You let your tongue slide out over your lips, then your teeth, humming as if you’re thinking something over. And then you say it… “I’d rather be sucking you off instead.”

He should be prepared for this, you’re such an insatiable minx. However, there’s also an undeniable desperation in your body language, pitching itself within your tone. You need him. He can feel his own vision beginning to swim with shapes, his feet planted firmly to help his thighs stay up and spread apart so that you can work.

“What do you want me to do, honey? What can I do to make this better for you?”

“Take it out.” You don’t miss a beat, raising onto your haunches to rid yourself of your sleep shirt, immediately beginning to play with your own nipples.

Steve begins to flush, body latching onto its own personal heatwave. He does as directed, his cock embarrassingly rock hard already, and difficult to peel off the fabric of his tight briefs. He’s sticky with his own pre-cum, an appreciative whimpering noise you make, letting him know you see that he’s gotten himself too wet taking off his underwear, that it’s slicked all through the bush at his base.

“Fuck, give it to me. I want it now.” You’re ever-so the lady, waiting on permission, saliva causing your mouth to water with an overflowing.

Steve’s voice has given way to something lower, deeper, and bitten with a honey hot claim. Folding one freckle and mole spattered arm behind his head, showing off his biceps, he’s nearly hoarse when he consents. “Go on, honey, take it. It’s yours.”

His cock jumps and slaps back against his stomach from the first hot breath that you give. Your smaller palm sliding into your panties and beginning a sopping wet rhythm as you nose down his warm, velvet shaft, all the way to that cream covered thatch of curls. You’re watching him the same way that he watches you from a similar position, and then you’re like a wild woman — inhaling. Steve tries to catch himself, but it’s too late. The action has him throbbing once more, his girth slapping against your cheek and jaw.

“Always smell so fucking good, Stevie. I could stay down here all week, get fired, and be happy if I could do this full time.”

“W-whatever you want, baby. I’ll do it for you.”

You leave kisses along his shaft now, still touching yourself, something that does not go unnoticed by Steve. It should be humiliating how close he is, just by this, but he doesn’t feel any of that with you. Only safety and love. He tries to convey that within the next few moments, and you pick it up automatically, sharing a soft smile. One that fades into that cheeky little grin he’s grown so fond of, even before your relationship began.

“You wanna do somethin’ else to me, don’t you, honey?”

You appear shy for a fraction of a second, but you hold up your finger to trace that defining vein along his cock, similar to the one that runs along his forearm, your fingertip circling the head, before you enclose your fist. Steve’s breathing accelerates and he groans from within his diaphragm.

“Yeah? You gonna find my spot again until I soak my own chest? Fill up your mouth, maybe?”

“Stevie…” You’re completely fucked out, running on adrenaline, schedule be damned.

“That’s it, isn’t it? You wanna play with my ass, huh?”

And you both know that your non verbal communication is enough of an answer. As for you? You definitely fall asleep at work the next day.

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stuffeddeer · 1 year ago

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hiii! how about ~any bsd characters of your choice~ when they make you cry for the first time during an argument? (maybe they say something mean, weaponize your insecurities, tell you to shut up (yeah, i'm sensitive to this heh), won't listen to you, etc)

yayyy any of my choice!!! that means my faves dazai and nikolai <3 love u anon

cw: intimacy ? "fuck" is used multiple times, u call urself an escort

A soft breath left your lips as you stared at your ceiling. Without even looking at the clock, you were sure it read some time past 12. You had quite a late night, even just the thought causing you to feel tired again. Closing your eyes tightly, you buried your face into your pillow, turning over in bed to do so.

The movement is followed by a deep chuckle from beside you, causing your eyes to snap open in surprise for a moment. There he is: the man who kept you up.

"Oh, you're still here." You spoke before thinking, the words coming out of your mouth as merely an observation.

"Ouch," he smirked, his hand reaching out to gently brush some hair from your face. "Good morning. Or should I say good afternoon, hm?"

"Um, sure. Thanks for last night, I suppose." Is that what he's waiting on? Acknowledgment? You pull the covers further up, making to sure cover as much of your torso as you can.

Your ex boyfriend only smirked, fingers trailing down your body just above the thick blankets. He propped his head up on one hand, elbow sinking slightly into your mattress. The way the afternoon sun danced between his brown curls made you think of last night, and how nice it felt to grip his soft hair once again. The thought makes you sigh, turning away from him to gaze at the ceiling once more.

"Hey, so, um, I gotta get ready. I have plans later..." you trail off, hoping he'll take the hint. Your ex has always been smart, especially socially - he'll understand.

And he does, for the most part, but he doesn't care. "Kicking me out already? The day just started. I thought you'd at least offer me a bowl of cereal before sending me away." His tone is teasing, the same smug smirk sitting prettily on his lips. "What are your plans, then? Anything I can tag along for?"

The incredulous look on your face gives away your confusion. "What..? No. Hey, thanks again for last night, but this is where we part. You got what you wanted, didn't you?"

He pouts at your words before sitting up. "Yeah, fine. I got what I wanted. Didn't realize this was just a fuck for you."

"Are you saying for you this was more?" You asked genuinely.

"No, I just thought it might have been more for you," he replies dismissively. Standing up, he begins pulling on his pants. "Have fun on your date, then."

You nod, unaware of his trap as you reply genuinely. "Thanks, I'll try."

He pauses, one leg in his pant leg and the other hovering just above it. "So you are prepping for a date."

Looking at him curiously, you nod. "Mhm, yeah. I was chatting with someone on Tinder. Figured I shouldn't go running to my ex whenever I need a good fuck."

He scoffs. "You think you can get a good fuck anywhere else?"

"That's what I'm tryna find out. Put on your pants, please."

"I guess it's my fault then, hm?" His eyes narrowed at you, giving nothing away as he remained frustrated and angry.

"...Fault for what?" You were confused, unaware as to what he was hinting at.

Your ex grits his teeth, feeling annoyed at your obliviousness. "For thinking we might actually get back together."

His words left you stunned for a moment, watching in silence he pulled his pants on the rest of the way. With a rather solemn expression, he shook his head in defeat and put his shirt on quickly. "There's my answer, then," he murmured, more to himself than you as he turned to leave.

Anger coursed through your body. How dare he play the hurt victim now? "Hey, fuck you!" You shouted without thinking. What a colossal asshole! "The night I broke up with you, you told me you never even liked me in the first place! And now what, you suddenly wanna 'rekindle what we had?' What did we have, Dazai? Please, enlighten me, because I find myself remembering that our whole relationship was just you talking down to me and treating me like some second-rate escort! I'm sorry for wanting more," you unloaded. Every thought that had been bouncing around in your head moved out of the way as you admitted what had been eating at you during the year of your relationship together. "It was our one year anniversary, you know, when I finally called it quits. Did you even remember?"

He didn't; of course not. You could just tell by his continued silence and the way he glanced away.

Tears brimmed your eyes. The only thing worse than his condescending remarks was the silence. You couldn't stand his quiet behavior, even when you were together - it screamed pity, and that's the last thing you wanted from someone who always knew what to say. "Get the fuck out of my house." You flopped back against your bed, burying your face into a soft pillow for the second time since waking up less than 10 minutes ago.

The sound of his feet pattering away is unheard by you, barely able to hear anything over the ringing in your head. As silently as you can, you sob into your pillow, feeling hurt and used by your stupid ex boyfriend.

Nikolai, in his crusade for emotional freedom, sometimes found himself treating you in a way that was less than ideal. He liked starting arguments with you, “proving” he didn’t love you as much as he clearly did and definitely wasn’t willing to do anything you asked. It was always over small things, like who made dinner (he’d get mad if you made it since he wanted to treat you or get mad that he’d have to make it since he always does) or how you hogged the blankets at night. Because of this, you usually overlooked it — you understand that it’s his way of proving his freedom and it never devolved into anything more.

Until today, that is. You could hardly remember what the argument was originally about, but he just kept pushing…

“Nikolai, I don’t even know what I did wrong.” Tears were starting to gather in your eyes, making them puffy and glazed over. The more he raised his voice, the more you shrunk in on yourself.

“That’s the problem! How could you not know?!” He took a step closer, towering over you with his large frame.

It was almost hard to breathe, panic coursing through your veins as you suddenly pushed him away with every ounce of strength you had. Silence coursed between the two of you, air tense and uncomfortable. Your tears finally spill once you notice how your hands are shaking. Fine, if he wanted to be free, then far be it from you to stop him.

Wiping your cheeks, you weakly reply, “Get out of my apartment.”

The white haired man paused, waiting to see if you meant it. You didn’t, not really, but it’s embarrassing to admit that when you gaze at your fearfully shaking hands. This isn’t how a boyfriend should treat his partner.

“Please, Nikolai…” You’d fold, you always did, so you resorted to begging while you still had the courage.

That courage wavers fully as his hands rested on your hips, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “It’s my fault, baby,” he whispers. “Let me make it up to you. I’ll get you flowers, and we can order your favorite takeout and have a picnic in the living room while watching your favorite movie…” His thumbs brushed the fresh tears away before both hands grabbed yours. “The last thing I want is for my dove to be scared of me, I swear. I love you more than anything, you’re all I want,” he presses soft kisses against your knuckles, “please, just let me stay...”

You fold.

thank you for this bc i have been ITCHING to write for nikolai my wife my girlfriend my lover (I HAVENT WRITTEN FOR HIM B4 SORRY)

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