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bunnys-kisses · 1 month

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I did the last request the vanilla cheesecake with a side of champagne and root beer and I forgot to add my person can it be max verstappen sorry!

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thank you for the submission!! also i saw that this was your first time requesting a fic so THANK YOU! if you want to submit an order of your own, hit up the menu for all the information! i write for more than just formula one so go crazy! thank you and enjoy!!

vanilla cheesecake ("where are your manners?") + champagne (sugar daddy au) + root beer (filming/recording) served by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, sugar daddy au, filming/recording, collars, degrading language, mean!max, dom/sub dynamics, bondage, sex toys, orgasm denial/control, jealousy

max thought that you were sweet like honey, something to drag his tongue along as he had your ankles at your ears, his cock buried inside of you.

you didn't mind being the play thing of one of the best drivers in the world. you didn't mind that you'd be in your apartment one day and the next day you're in the back of his car heading to his jet to go anywhere in the world.

money wasn't an object to someone who made close to sixty-million dollars a year. even the time he was off racing, you'd still get a pretty deposit in your banking account.

it was a charmed life, but being the sugar baby to a man like max meant indulging in the needs of his. you were a paid service, company as you were once told it was.

and max had some sick little kinks. nothing that bordered on illegal (thank god), but the flying dutchman liked his girls behaving and begging. and you were the prettiest beggar of them all.

"head. forward." he said. he was seated on the couch and you were on your stomach with your arms tied behind your back with a belt and a toy stuck in your slick pussy. you had dropped your head up against the floor for a moment before max corrected you.

you looked up at him and whined a little, "please, sir. please, i promised i'd be good! i didn't realize what i was doing." and tensed up when max turned up the intensity of the vibrator via the remote in his pocket.

max currently looked fairly sleek, in slacks and a white button up. the suit jacket was draped over the arm of the couch and his sleeves were rolled up. those strong forearms were exposed. he was leaned back against the leather couch with his hand in his pocket with the remote in his hand.

he sighed through his nose before he said, "i don't think that's the case, treasure. you know what you did tonight, i'm surprised that you didn't whore yourself at that party."

you tensed up when he lowered the vibrations of the toy. he shifted in his seat a little and kept a stern eye on you. his gaze felt oppressive and it made you squirmed on your stomach. you felt like a worm, weak and vulnerable. prey.

"please, max. please, please, please! i'm sorry! it won't happen again." you arched your back a little and squirmed in your binds.

he made a face, that he wasn't convinced of your apology. he turned off the vibrator and got up from the couch. you could see the painful erection in his slacks more clearly. he walked over to you and held you by the back of the head to look at him. he said, "you are very dumb, treasure." his words were biting, "a dumb little thing." he shook his head a little, "oh max gives me money, so i can act like a slut. norris' hands were up your skirt. i don't like when people touch what is mine, especially another driver."

you flinched a little, but your core swam with want. he was domineering like this. scary in a way that left a thrill of excitement through you. you licked your lips and said, "it wasn't what it looked like."

he nudged you with his shoe and then stepped on the center of your back, right under where your hands were bound. he made a small noise before he turned the vibrator back on to full intensity. you tensed up and threw your head back, but you weren't going far. not bound and under max's shoe.

"i'm not too sure, treasure. i told you when we started this little agreement that you were going to be exclusively mine. i didn't want to share you with other men. i pay you enough to keep you mine." he pressed a little bit on your back and you arched it.

you felt the heat in your cheeks and the wetness between your legs. you panted a little bit, "i promise, i promise i will never let another man touch me." the lust in your body was short circuiting any logical thinking.

he chuckled, a little more convinced now. he took out his phone out of his other pocket and filmed your quivering body. he played with the remote in his other hand as he continued to film you. he took a good shot of your pussy as he watched your wither and moan.

"please, max. please, i'm sorry. i won't let lando touch me again. i thought he was just being friendly!" you moaned as you tried to shift your hips in a way to get the pleasure you need.

he put the camera in your face and your head in his other hand. he chuckled and got the camera close to you, "say that to lando right now, treasure. tell him you're off limits." he could feel the heat in his body grow, you were so painfully pathetic in front of him withering on a toy.

you looked up to the camera, your lips in a pout and your eyes were wet. you sniffed a little bit as you said, "lando. never touch me again. i belong only to max." then arched your back further as he lowered then intensity, only to put it to the max once more.

max rubbed your head and chuckled, "that's it, that's a good little slut. you actually know how to behave. i guess i haven't fucked all of your brains out."

you whimpered when you realized that max had full control over your orgasm. he was edging you when he finished filming you. you wondered if the video would actually be sent to lando at the end of this. the prospect of it excited you, maybe you liked the way max treated you like an object when he was upset.

he eventually had enough of the teasing he was doing to you. he got behind your naked, bound form. his phone on the floor beside him. he was still clothed with his cock out of his pants.

he loved the sight of you naked under him when he clothed. you shuddered at his oppressive gaze and winced when he took the toy out and replaced it with his cock. you squirmed under his touch and bucked against him. but a swift slap across the ass calmed you.

"you're so pretty like this." he said, "you're so painfully pretty on your shoulders and knees, letting me fuck the daylights out of you. you look good under me. it's where you belong."

you gasped against the hardwood floor under your. your cheek pressed against it as he started to rub against you. his large hands on your hips, keeping you pinned to him as he thrusted into you quickly,

there was no time for romantic pleasantries, he needed you at that moment. he needed to feel that sweet cunt around his cock as he fucked you. his possessiveness for you grew with each thrusts of his cock.

"please, max." you panted, "shit, please." you gasped as you moved against your binds. you felt the knot in your stomach as he fucked you without much abandon.

"see, you can be good." max groaned. he was obsessed with you, that was why he was luring you in with heavy stacks of cash. he could bruise your insides with his cock if it meant that you'd get something shiny out of it. it was almost cute, too easy for him to trap you.

the rabbit between the lion's jaw.

"max, i'm sorry. please, i want to be your good girl." you panted heavily.

he held onto the meat of your hips tighter and bullied that impressive cock of his deep into your sweet pussy. he wanted to make sure that he marked you inside and out.

pretty thing like you need to be owned. kept next to him, not running off with the likes of lando. things sparked in the back of his mind as he thrusted in and out of you.

he'd make sure next time that you knew who you belonged to before you both went out partying. maybe a collar next time, a nice piece of sturdy leather with a lock that only he could open.

so even if lando got his hands on you, max's name around your neck would be a reminder to him and anyone else that you were claimed territory.

"i know you can be my good girl." he said, "just lie there and let me fuck you. you're mine, got it?"

you swallowed, "yes, max!" you felt the heat curl in your gut the more that he fucked you. your head swam with pleasure, the aggressiveness to his movements were all getting too much.

he shuddered and pushed his cock as deep as it would go. he felt his pace stagger when you clenched around him and finally came. it was all too much for you. usually he'd make you beg to climax, but he had done enough damage tonight. your poor pussy was probably nice and bruised.

max would make it all up in the morning with something expensive. he'd wave a stack of euros in your face and all would be forgiven. he thrusted heavily a few more times before he pushed it in all the way to the base and finished inside of you.

he prayed the birth control he paid for worked like it did every other time. but a sick part of his brain hoped that it failed. he hoped that you got pregnant and stuck carrying his kid. then at least lando wouldn't touch you, hard to get his hand up your skirt when you're nice and pregnant with a verstappen brat.

he grit his teeth and grumbled, "that's it, that's a good girl." he landed a smack across your ass as he finished. his pace slowed and he panted heavily. he leaned back on his heels and admired the sight of his cum dripping out of your poor pussy.

you've learned your lesson. you were going to be max's good girl. you were simply his expensive play thing, but the more max sank his cock into the gummy soft pussy of yours. the more the addiction came over him, max was getting greedy with your time.

and soon he'd want to devour your whole <3

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stinkywormynoob · 1 year

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feralthoughtdump · 10 months

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Let Me Wrap My Teeth Around The World

Warnings: minors DNI, small age gap (everyone is 18+), manipulation, love-bombing, possessiveness, social anxiety, the male gaze, financial exploitation, obsessive behavior, ownership, toxic dynamics, moral corruption, smut, virginity loss, coercion, dubcon, dark

Word Count: 4.1K

It’s been a while since Coriolanus found someone as the object of his affection. The last time was a few years ago, and it did no good for him. But this shy, sweet, beautiful Capitol girl was someone who could pose no risk to him and seemed to have wormed her way into the recesses of his mind.

She was the shy girl in one of his University classes. Rumors circulated about her wealth or lack thereof. She was some prodigy who earned her way into the school through merit rather than money, and it left an open inquiry as to who her parents were. He didn’t know what drew him in. The House of Snow had just regained a semblance of wealth and power, and associating with a girl like her could easily create cracks in the foundation.

She wasn’t wealthy enough to come from a district family who bought their way in, but she certainly wasn’t like the other students who took classes with her. Though she wasn’t wealthy, she wasn’t necessarily poor, at least not as poor as his family used to be, but he could recognize the signs of the consistent repair in her uniform, using the same stitches Tigris would use on his old clothing. It turns out she had come from a family of seamstresses and artists.

He also learned that she loved pretty things, not just spotting them but making them. Her apartment was always decorated with little knick-knacks and drawings that covered the walls. Coriolanus would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy spending time in her dingy apartment. It was small, run-down, nothing more than a studio with a bed, desk, kitchenette, and a heat pipe that screeches and clangs at the most ungodly hour. But he loves staring at how her brows furrow as she sketches or how she tucks her lower lip between her teeth in frustration. Despite being unable to help her work, she was always happy to have him around.

This leads him to her small apartment at least once a month with a new pair of pants that were a bit too long or one of his father’s old shirts

Even though he could afford to have his pants hemmed by a tailor or simply ask Tigris, he prefers going to her. After all, she’s become familiar with his preferred inseam length, and Tigris has become colder and colder towards him.

He always insists on paying her even if she refuses.

“We’re friends, Corio,” She said the first time. “You don’t have to pay me.”

“Just this once, let me take care of you.” He insisted, pressing the cash into the palm of her hand.

Just this once turned into every single time. Then, it became buying her meals and small gifts. He got her internships with other high-ranking game makers. Eventually, he convinced her that her old apartment was too small and worn down for a nice girl like her, and he moved her into a spare room in his apartment and turned the other into a studio. Then, he started taking her to parties and events she could never afford to go to, and he always made sure to buy her a dress even if she insisted that it would cost less if she could just make one herself.

When their fellow students would snicker at her, he’d slip poison into their drinks. Never enough to kill them, just to get them sick for a week or so.

Somehow, Coriolanus finds himself taking her under his wing, becoming a mentor to her in some type of way. She maintained that soft and sweet air about her, but with his help, she became someone her peers respected. Once, she was the girl who made other students in the University roll their eyes because she always tried too hard. Now, she was the girl who had connections and handed in exemplary work. She was the carefully created success story of a middle-class Capitol girl who climbed the ladder with hard work and determination. Now, she could spread her wings and fly, but only as far as he would allow.

With the arrival of winter comes the start of planning another year of games, and the Crane family was more than happy to host a commencement gala.

This time, he bought her a pretty red dress she eyed in a store window a few days ago.

The quiet gasp she lets out when he opens the box is music to his ears.

“It’s even more beautiful in person.” She whispers the fabric pooling in her hands like blood. “I can’t let you keep buying me things like this. I can’t take this.”

He fights the urge to roll his eyes. She always opposes, with her voice becoming soft, objections and promises to pay him back, tumbling from her lips. But that wasn’t what he cared about. He cared about how she presented herself. He got her internships and dragged her out of that shoebox of a studio apartment. She was a product of his hard work, and he wanted to show it off. “Think of it as a gift.” He smiles, gently lifting her chin to meet his eyes. “You’ve worked hard these past few months.”

“Corio…”

“Put it on; we have to leave in a few minutes.”

…

She’s stuck to his side whenever they attend these events. Her shy demeanor doesn’t do well in large crowds, and with an endless supply of expensive liquor, Coriolanus doesn’t want her wandering about alone.

Throughout the evening, she’s been good. Smiling, looking pretty. Saying hello to the people he introduces her to, holding onto his arm, and letting him know when she’s feeling overwhelmed so he can rub circles on her back.

People compliment her, telling her how beautiful she looks. Pride thumps against his chest. Of course, she looks beautiful. The dress he picked falls on her body like it was made for her. The red is beautiful against her skin, and the fabric drapes beautifully around her hips, showing off her elegant back.

Eventually, she breaks away from him, needing to use the restroom. But after a while, he realizes something isn't right without her beside him.

He worries when he can’t see her, and he finds himself rushing through small conversations and pushing past people to try and find her in a sea of people.

Eventually, he spots her staring at the city's vast expanse, leaning on the balcony's edge. She’s slowly nursing her third glass of champagne in one hand, and the other picks at the cuticles of her thumb.

That wasn’t a good sign.

“What’s wrong?” He inquires, approaching her with a hand on her back.

She jumps at his touch, but relief crosses her face when she sees him. The last of the champagne is quickly swallowed, and she passes the empty glass to an approaching waiter.

“Nothing, really. I’m okay.”

From the tension in her forehead, he can clearly tell that she isn’t okay. Though he knows she hates it when he pries, he still chooses to do so.

“You aren’t, so tell me what’s wrong.”

There’s a beat of silence, and she sighs.

“I feel out of place, Corio. I feel like I don’t belong here.”

“What do you mean? Of course, you belong here.”

“Everyone here is just so…” She looks down at her heels, trying to find the right words “I don’t know, I’m younger than everyone, and most of the people here have played a part in the games and all I’ve done is get coffee and print papers for them.”

Her lashes flutter as if blinking away tears, and he can’t have that. Not here.

“Hey,” he lifts her chin with his fingers and strokes her flushed cheek with his thumb. “Don’t get all tearful on me. You’re with me. I promise you, you belong here.”

From the frown curling on her lips, his words clearly aren’t working, so he shifts the conversation. “What do you dream of being? What do you want to do?”

She opens her mouth but hesitates.

“Promise you won’t think it’s stupid?”

“I promise.”

“I’d like to be a designer.” A small smile starts to cross her face. “A fashion designer with my own line and everything.”

He could see a future where everyone in the Capitol wore her designs. Or not everyone. She was too good for that. All of his hard work has been put into helping her rise alongside him. If she wanted to do something, she had to be the best.

“I think you would make a great designer.” Without a second thought, he presses a small kiss to her forehead. “I know you will. I’ve seen your work.”

A giggle falls from her lips, and affection blooms in his chest. Nowadays, he wonders if he could ever love someone. But love is so subjective. He had molded her into someone who would be fit to stand by him as he rose in the ranks. Isn’t that the closest thing there is to love?

…

“Here, let me help you.”

The champagne has loosened her up, causing her to stumble on her feet. She leans against him and laughs when his arm hooks under her knees to carry her past the front door.

“Such a gentleman.” She croons. “Always taking care of me.”

“It’s what I do best.”

He sets her down on the edge of his bed so he can bend down to undo her heels. Without much thinking, he gently kisses the inside of her ankle. His eyes gaze up at her, gauging her reaction, and she shyly tells him, “I really want to kiss you right now.”

It’s as if something in him shifts. Coriolanus always harbored an attraction to her. On multiple occasions, he would fuck his fist after their little “tailoring” appointments, thinking about her on her knees, his cock stuffed in her mouth. Ever since she moved in, he’d sneak glances through the crack of her door, catching glimpses of her in stages of undress. He’s never acted upon it. His ego certainly wouldn’t be able to take the rejection, but now that she’s asking him to kiss her with those soft lips and glittering doe eyes, he’s safe to act on his desires.

He surges forward, engulfing her in his hold. Hands cupping her face to keep her lips pressed against his. His teeth graze across her bottom lip,

She smells like vanilla and roses, igniting that deep-seated hunger inside him.

He has always hungered for power within the political spheres of Panem, but right now, his hunger is hyperfocused on her. To own her, to control her.

He wants her to answer every beck and call. If he were to say jump, she would ask, ‘How high?’ If he asked her to crawl to him, she’d drag her delicate knees across whatever surface she stood on. He wants her to belong to him—mind, body, and soul.

Their lips are locked together as her hands fumble to remove her dress. Sensing her struggle, he releases her face to help, undoing the ties around her neck. She carefully lets it fall off her body, letting the vibrant red silk pool around her feet.

“I’ve never done this before.” She murmurs against his lips. “I haven’t done anything past kissing.”

“Really?” He looks down at her and wants to coo in adoration when she shyly glances away. “No one’s ever touched you before?”

“Just… myself… and this one boy from the academy a few years ago but it was over our uniforms.” She hesitates, and he can feel his cock twitch in his pants. Coriolanus already owned most of her clothing, living space, and future career. It was all owed to him. But her virginity? He can truly make her his. His girl.

He crawls on top of her, caging her in his arms.

“I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

His fingers trace her skin, from the line of her neck past her collarbones, dipping under the white lace underwear that clings to her hips.

“These are pretty.” He flicks the rosette sewn to the center of the waistband. “Did you wear these for me?”

“Maybe. I made them myself.”

She lifts her hips, allowing him to slide them down her legs. They part, creating room for him to slot himself in between her knees. Her hands reach to remove his shirt, but he bats them away.

“Just relax. I’ll take care of you.”

As he unbuttons his shirt, he observes the way her chest rises and falls, how her lips are parted, and how her tongue darts out to lick at her lips in anticipation.

His fingers push past her lips, pressing down on her eager tongue, already swirling over them.

“Get them wet. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her eyes close as she sucks on the digits. Saliva pools in her mouth, dripping past the corners of her lips.

They are released with a pop, and Coriolanus groans, the strain in his pants becoming unbearable.

Two of his wet fingers slide between her folds, teasing at her opening. A gasp slips past her parted lips at the feeling of his fingers pushing in. It was torturous how he managed to curl his fingers just right, eliciting a stifled whine from her lips. She pulls her hips away, overwhelmed by the stretch and the growing pressure inside of her. Though he knows she’s fingered herself before, his fingers must feel foreign, better than what she can do for herself.

He pushes a third inside of her, opening her up, and he can feel how she flexes around him. She wraps her fingers around his wrist, trying to pull his hand away, but he persists, continuing to curl his fingers against that spot inside of her.

“Don’t fight it.” He demands, pistoning his fingers. “I’m just trying to make you feel good.”

Her gasps and whines eventually turn into moans. She clenches around his fingers and bucks her hips forward as if her body is begging him for more.

“I think,” She arches her back, and her voice becomes gaspy as if fighting to fill her lungs with air. “I think I’m close.”

“Already?” He spits onto her clit and presses his thumb against it. Electricity surges through her body as he rubs it in slow circles. She watches him with parted lips and shaky breathing as he fuels her oncoming orgasm. “Oh, you’re making this too easy for me.”

Her head is thrown back, and a strangled moan falls from her lips—sticky arousal floods around his fingers, and her walls spasm around them.

“There you go.” He soothes, pressing kisses to her cheek. “That feels good, huh?”

She’s laid out on the comforter, chest heaving and skin flushed. Coriolanus grabs his stiff cock through his pants, trying to ease the growing tension. But he decides he can’t wait to give her a break.

Her ears perk up at the metallic clink of him undoing his belt.

“Corio, I- I don’t think-”

He shushes her with a kiss.

“It’s alright, you can take it. Yeah? Remember what I promised?”

“That you’d be gentle.”

“That’s right.” He kicks off his pants and frees his cock from the confines of his briefs. “I’ve always been good to you, haven’t I?”

She nods in agreement, eyes widening at the size of him.

He licks his lips as he presses the tip against her cunt, slowly easing his cock inside of her.

As he sheathes himself inside of her, he presses her thighs to her chest, forcing himself deeper into her warmth.

She lets out a sharp cry and grabs his waist, trying to push him back.

“You’re too big, Corio. I don’t think you’ll fit.”

He hurries to kiss away her complaints. To distract her from the pain. He couldn’t wait. He needed to feel her. He needed her. Whispering against her lips, he soothes her. “You’re okay. I’ll go slow. Yeah?”

Broken moans fall from her lips as he bottoms out. He groans in pleasure as her fingernails dig into his back, scrambling for some kind of purchase. She was so tight, so wet, and so warm, gripping onto him like a vice.

Very carefully, he rocks his hips back and forth, letting her adjust to him. The sounds she makes, combined with the slick squelch of her cunt are obscene. Even with his slow movements, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to last long.

He drops his lips to her neck, teeth grazing the fragile skin before biting down.

“Ah- please, don’t leave a mark.”

Disregarding her words, he sucks a slowly blooming bruise onto her neck. He doesn’t care if it’s dark. He wants people to see it and know who left it there.

Maybe he does love her, he thinks. He loves how she complements him, her sweetness dampening his harsher attributes. He loves her creativity, her ambition, and how she always hungers to better herself. She’s perfect. She could be more than just a designer. She could be influential, a figure in the history of Panem.

“I have an idea.” He hums against her neck, stilling his hips.

“Yeah?”

“I want you to be part of the games.”

“What do you mean?” She impatiently shifts her hips, trying to get him to move again.

“You can be a…” he pauses to think, looking into her blown-out pupils, “a stylist. You can design the tributes' looks for the opening ceremony and the interviews. Maybe we can implement uniforms for the actual games.”

She pulls back, but he keeps her locked in place, hands grabbing at the flesh of her hips. Her eyes no longer look glazed over with lust. Instead, there’s a flash of clarity within them.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“No, Corio.” Her voice is firm. She has her mind made up. “I won’t do it.”

His lust begins to mix with anger. She can’t deny him. Not now, not ever. Not after everything he has done for her.

His hand reaches for her chin, and she whimpers.

“Yes, you will because I’m not asking.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” She struggles against his hold. “You don’t own me.”

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you,” He snarls, fingers digging into her jaw. “I gave you this life, and I can easily take it away from you.”

“Let go of me, please.”

Earlier promises of being gentle are tossed away. She’s beginning to let out pained squeaks from the pressure on her cheeks, and the hand on her hip digs into the soft flesh, creating red divots close to drawing blood.

“Look at all that I have given you. All of your nice clothes and these fancy internships were because of me. Without me, you’d be freezing to death in that shed you used to live in.” He pulls his hips back and slams his cock back into her dripping cunt, eliciting a cry from her. “I made you who you are.” He cruelly bullies his cock into her, picking up his speed every time her hands weakly try to push him away. “All you have to do is be good for me, and I’ll give you whatever you want.” He forces her to look at him, to stare into her glassy eyes. “Are you going to be good?”

She doesn’t reply, or rather, she can’t. All she could do was strain against him with dark, mascara-stained tears rolling down her cheeks.

Those eyes that once gazed upon him with fondness are now filled with fear.

“Are you going to be good?” He punctuates his words with a hand to her throat, giving it a light squeeze. It’s enough pressure to establish a threat but not enough to take away her ability to breathe.

Her teary eyes blink, and she nods.

“Yes,” She whispers. “I’ll be good.”

“So,” He slows his movements and brings his lips to her ear, warm breath tickling her skin. “What do you say?

Once again, he circles her sensitive clit with his thumb.

She sobs, clenching around him, and he can tell that she’s close to cumming again.

“You’re not going to cum until you answer me.”

“Please, Corio, don’t make me decide. Not right now.”

“I want-” He groans, feeling himself falling close to the edge. “I need an answer.”

She sobs and tries to look away, but the hand on her face won’t let her.

“Please.”

His face moves closer to hers, her hot breath fanning his cheeks.

“I can feel you clenching around me, and I know you can’t hold it in. Give me an answer now.” More tears stream down her face, and she squeezes her eyes shut. “If you cum before giving me an answer, I’ll ruin this pretty cunt.”

There’s a second of silence, save for the sound of his skin slapping against hers before she nods.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Yes, what?”

“I’ll do it.”

He quickens his pace, chasing after his own pleasure, and she all but screams.

The fire in his burns, ready to overtake him, but something isn’t right.

“Open your eyes.” He demands. “I want you to look at me when I fill you up.”

She blinks her eyes open, all wide and wet, and he’s unable to hold back. Tightening his hold on her, he forces his hips against her own, burying his cock to the hilt and releasing inside of her. She flutters around him, desperate gasps for air falling from her wanting mouth as she cums with him.

They stay in this position, both trying to catch their breath. Coriolanus is the first to pull away, rubbing her thighs to loosen the tired muscles.

She lays there, surrounded by his fluffy white sheets, saying nothing. He gently kisses her cheek, attempting to pull an answer from her, but when it proves unsuccessful, he leaves to draw a bath.

…

“You don’t have class tomorrow, right?”

The question draws her out of her gaze, now realizing she’s curled up in the tub with her knees drawn to her chest. The water is warm, cloudy, almost milky, and smells like roses. She couldn't bear to look at him right now, but she managed to force an answer from her lips.

“No,” she fights the urge to flinch when his fingers brush her hair away from her neck. “It’s my day off.”

“Good.” Coriolanus dips the washcloth in the tub and gently wipes it against her skin. “You’ll come with me to see Dr. Gaul. Bring your portfolio.”

Her body shudders at the thought of meeting the woman, but more notably, knowing that the man she held so much love for was nothing like the man he portrayed himself to be.

She once thought that he was her patron, but the truth was that he was her owner. All of the riches she had gained this past year meant nothing now. They weren’t hers. They were his. He had given her a life of safety where she could flourish and provide for her family, but it was one separated from the world she once knew. Her parents and friends from the fabric shop were replaced by the same obscenely wealthy elite who would have thumbed their nose at her if it weren’t for the proximity to him.

Every gentle brush of his fingers on her skin reminds her of what he’s done to her. How he now owns her.

Her mind falls to a lecture from a year ago. It was about evolution and apex predators. The boa, she remembers, was nonvenomous but deadly, wrapping themselves around their prey, squeezing their bodies until their circulation stopped and their lungs could no longer pull any oxygen. What’s more chilling, she thinks, is that they know to monitor their heartbeat, waiting for their heart to stop before swallowing them whole.

He’s wrapped himself around her, tightening his hold. She knows she can struggle, but he won’t loosen his grip. He’ll just constrict around her, tighter and tighter, until there’s no more room for her to fight—no more room to breathe.

“I’ve been very sweet on you, and I can keep doing that.” He hums. “But, I can be cruel as well. You and I both know I don’t want to do that.”

Finally, she finds the courage to look at him; those blue eyes are now colder than ever.

She tries to whisper, but when he raises a brow, she clears her throat and meekly responds.

“Thank you, Coriolanus. For everything.”

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #dark!coriolanus snow #tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas fanfiction

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thisisnotthenerd · 5 months

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ik it's been beat to death by this point

but holy shit the bad kids in-world are fucking terrifying

even starting with the bad boys:

you have fabian, inheritor of the seacaster and lomenelda legacies and the elven oracle's champion in his own right. maximum legend. somehow a straight-a student, captain of the owlbears, and owner of the party house. he fights with the sword of the elven kings and will perform a full dance routine while decapitating you.

you have riz, licensed private investigator and angelic agent of the lower planar reconnaissance task force. litigator. campaign manager. found the rogue teacher by his own effort and then passed the last stand. the kid who showed up to school with a gun on the first day and now dual wields a sword and a magic gun. he will find you, he will fight you, and if he deems necessary he will eat you.

you have gorgug, creator and pioneer of the barbificer subclass, the first barbarian to be able to maintain spells while raging. the greatest wizard of the age. generally chill but will commit murder over a sex lawnmower. rock star drummer on the side. he can buff his party and solo a purple worm at the same time. he fights with an axe that affects nearby gravity as a returning weapon.

and then the bad girls:

you have adaine, the elven oracle. known for her exquisite spellcraft, unerring eye for the future, and a willingness to get her hands dirty. practical magic is her bitch. she issues 13 impossible prophecies in the span of a couple weeks. she defied the will of fallinel and brought modernity to the court of stars through dance battle (via fabian).

you have fig, of fig and the sig figs fame, the infaethable archdevil of the bottomless pit. an illusionist who's caused so much chaos that she has an agent of the council of chosen personally after her. psychologically threatened a guy in his dreams. a phenomenal bard, warlock of her own domain, and a paladin of conviction and rebellion.

you have kristen, the blessed saint who raised cassandra from the nightmare king and yes!/yes? from the void. who performs miracles with the shards of a dying god and holds the power of doubt as her shepherd's crook. she chose to walk away from being chosen and venture into paths unknown, even as gods asked for her worship. one conversation with her can make you question everything you've ever known.

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #the bad kids #riz gukgak #gorgug thistlespring #fabian seacaster #adaine abernant #fig faeth #kristen applebees

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kivino · 11 months

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kivi.. pls hear my vision. different situations where reader and ghost hug because he’s too afraid to say “i love you” at the moment, but both of you know what his hugs mean. PLEAAASEEE AGHH (and gn!reader ofc)

HUSH || SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X GN!READER

Word counter - ~1k words

A/n - PLSS i love your idea so much, he'd be awfully awkward, but we love him for it <3333

ao3 link for this fic

The first time Simon hugged you like this, unprompted and spontaneous, you froze. He felt warm, huge, a bit awkward and out of place but genuine, true. He wanted to tell you so many things he had on his mind, but he just couldn’t, lips sealed under that skull balaclava, leaning into you and squeezing so hard you couldn’t even return the hug. Minutes spent in this position felt like a whole eternity.

“Simon, what are you…”

“Shut up.”

So, you did. Hearing his steady breathing close to your ear, even feeling his heartbeat against your chest…and how fast it was. He was nervous. That was surprisingly sweet. You felt a smile tugging on the corners of your mouth when you heard him exhale and squeeze you even tighter in his arms. You don’t question his behavior when he reluctantly lets you go.

Each hug he gives you feels like home. As you make your way back from the draining mission, Simon rests his arm around your shoulders and leans against you, while the two of you sit next to each other, finding comfort in each other’s presence. His head bumps into yours, so you shift slightly against him, and it finally slots in the crook of your neck. And then you realize. He’s sleeping. Soap, who’s sitting on the opposite side of you gives you a cheeky smile.

“Not a word.” You hiss at him, rolling your eyes.

Simon was rarely vulnerable. It was never the time or the place, after all, he dedicated his whole life to being a soldier – resourceful, capable, and strong. There wasn’t any space for his feelings. But with you, he always felt accepted. Whenever he needed you were right there, with your familiar features, warm smile, and open arms. And each time Simon found himself snaking his arms around your torso, closing his eyes, and inhaling your smell he caught himself thinking only one thing.

“I love you.”

He lost count of the times when he opened his mouth to finally say it, only to close it mere seconds later, rethinking his decision completely. Next time. Next time he’ll tell you. But that next time never comes. So, Simon remains stuck in this endless cycle of fruitless attempts to bare his soul for you, only to lose his voice and fall silent, hoping you’ll connect the dots yourself. Still, he was happy to be in your arms. And happiness likes silence, after all. So maybe his lack of words was for the best.

God, how much he loves you. Simon would spend his whole life in your embrace if he could, not a worry in the world as he basks in your warmth, something he craved desperately for years now. Something that would probably fill this gaping hole in his chest after he lost so much. He didn’t like being this walking one-man pity party he felt he was sometimes, but you made it easier. Simon had no idea how you just wormed your way into his heart so swiftly, but he’d take it. Whatever it was about you, you were special to him, and he was not letting you go.

“Earth to Simon, you there?” You look up at him from the tight embrace he once again trapped you in while smoking on the balcony. The night was surprisingly cold, so instead of lending you his jacket, Simon just pulled you in for an embrace, telling you to clasp your arms behind his back. You enjoyed this alone time with him, and you prayed that he wouldn’t pick up on your staring. One of the few times when he finally takes off his damn mask, and you’re worried about him catching onto you looking. And how could you not? His eyes looked like boundless, hypnotizing abyss in the glow of a flickering lightbulb.

“Simon to Earth, how copy?” He smirks, noticing your prolonged stare, and you see the embers of mischief dancing in his irises. Now it was his turn to tease you. Bastard. He chuckles at the sight of you flustered.

“Oh, fuck off.” You let go of him, getting out of the warm hug and giving his chest a slight push. Simon should know better than to tease you. You immediately feel significantly colder than before, but instead of returning to his embrace, you shove your hands in the pockets of your trousers. His eyes flicker towards your huddled form, but he doesn’t say anything, once again.

Simon doesn’t say anything even when you’re laying on top of him, like a weighted blanket, making his mind wander in a sleepy daze. He drinks up every single detail in front of him, the way your eyelashes flutter, the warmth you’re radiating, or how your face is pressed against his chest. Simon is more than sure that if you were awake right now, you could hear how fast his heart beats for you. It’s embarrassing, really. But Simon just can’t help himself. So, he squeezes you even tighter with one arm, his fingers lingering on your hair with a feather-light touch.

Maybe…maybe right now is the time. You’re sleeping. You won’t hear him anyway and he’ll be able to get so much weight off his shoulders. Simon feels something inside his chest ache, a bittersweet feeling rolling on his tongue. He knew it was foolish, but he needed that. Simon could already feel his insides tossing and turning in this uncomfortable, anxious anticipation of…something. He wasn’t quite sure of what.

But it’s now or never. So, he cranes his neck slightly and his lips touch your forehead for a short second. The touch is intimate and bashful, but it sends euphoric butterflies right through his stomach, along with that sweet, tender ache in his chest.

“I love you” Simon manages to whisper, as he lays back down, trying not to disturb your sleep any more than he already has. A shaky breath escapes his lips. He did it. He actually did it. Simon closes his eyes with another exhale, not even catching the way a faint smile appears on your face.

check out my masterlist for more fics or send me a request/comment!

#cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty mwii #cod mwii #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #modern warfare ii #cod #mw2022 #mw2 2022 #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost x gn!reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley #ghost cod

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junowritings · 6 months

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What about romanced Astarion reacting to the normally goody-goody Tav revealing that they stole the special potion from Araj before they left. He discovers this because Tav gives it to him as soon as they are out of sight from the blood merchant.

Oh I absolutely love this idea. Though writing this made me realize I need to put Astarion in my party more often. Went off on a bit of a tangent but I do hope you enjoy~!

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♡ Oh, the things we do for love, ey?

♡ Astarion plays nice with others in the interest of survival, and he’s made no attempts to hide that fact from you since you had really begun to bond. You on the other hand are akin to a bleeding heart, all too often going out of your way to do what you thought was right even if it meant putting yourself in harm's way as a result. At the beginning that attitude seemed pitiful - he figured it would simply end up getting you killed later down the line. And yet you’d rise, time and time again making an example of the morals that you set and surviving every encounter stronger than before. Even if your morals didn’t always align, he respected that tenacity.

♡ Even after you’d managed to worm your way into his very heart, the pair of you have butted heads more than once on the matter; at the high and mighty goody two shoes act that you face the world with. All of the reminders about doing good deeds for the sake of being good, not stealing from just anyone nor going behind others backs rummaging through personal effects for answers or loot. Not to mention all of that time spent helping others and listening to their plights as though they were your own. Honestly, darling, you really do make things harder on yourself by playing into other people’s sob stories.

♡ Astarion never suspected that the encounter at Moonrise tower could have changed anything.

♡ He’s uncharacteristically quiet as you leave the room together after dealing with Araj, but that’s because inside Astarion is absolutely seething. A familiar feeling of disgust he’d longed hoped to quash down burns a hole deep within his chest, opening old mental wounds as though freshly torn asunder upon his flesh. He’s mad at that damned drow; the way she looked down upon him, using honeyed words that he knew were a damn farce because for fucks sake he’d been using the same tactics for well over a century. That look, that calculated appraisal as Araj gauged what the vampire spawn could offer her in exchange for her potion made his skin crawl, all too familiar with the look that spoke volumes of his value - as a means to serve her own whims and not an actual person.

♡ And then, when he’d shown reluctance, she’d turned to you, as though you’d reign him in and get him to bend to your will like some fanged pet you kept on a tight leash. Far from the truth, of course, but the lack of autonomy that Astarion felt watching the pair of you converse about him as if he wasn’t even there had him clenching his teeth hard enough that the ache in his jaw persists long afterwards.

♡ There had been a swell of satisfaction when you put your foot down on the matter, nipping her demand in the bud with a firm reminder that he had already refused her request - there was no more to discuss. The drow had gotten bored after that, uninterested in further discussion with her own desires now off the table, and Astarion was all too happy to be out of there as you trailed a few paces behind.

♡ Astarion stands by his choice, but another part of him kicks himself for turning down the reward. A moment of discomfort, to give up a piece of himself for a potion that could prove invaluable was all it could have taken. He had done it before - done it for centuries to placate that vile beast he once served - why would this be any different? A transactional relationship, one that could have given you a leg up in the battles ahead, and he’d refused.

♡ He’s still stewing in these thoughts when a nudge breaks him from his reverie, a gentle brush of your fingers against his hand as you move into step beside your partner. Your touch is warm yet he prickles as though he’s been burned, pupils akin to pinpricks as he looks at you from the corner of his eye. He’s measuring you, for a moment. Takes in the brow furrowed and questioning eyes - not pity, concern - trying to gauge how he’s feeling. It’s a discussion for later, so Astarion dons that usual placating smile and turns to you, fully prepared to pull a spiel about that whole conversation being a waste of your perfectly good time. And then he notices.

♡ His ears perk up at a noise, the gentle slosh of something moving. Crimson eyes dart down to the source, to the hand you’d touch him with. It’s not empty - no, fingers curl tight around the corded neck of a familiar glass green bottle, and your nudge this time is more insistent as you press the bottle into the palm of his hand, urging him to take it. You relinquish the bottle to his hold, pale hands taking the glass and stirring up the liquid inside as he brings it up to get a better look. Surely this isn’t…

♡ But then sure enough you smile, a mischievous twinkle in your eye that makes his own widen as you shrug.

♡ “For you. Figured she didn’t need it anymore; since she just left it lying out in the open and all.”.

♡ The laugh comes before Astarion can stop himself - loud and unabashed from the sheer absurdity of it all. You? Actually stealing something? And for him no less! And they say that romance is dead, yet here you are wooing him one stolen novelty at a time.

♡Hells he hadn’t even noticed that you’d swiped the damned thing - had it been when you’d turned the blood merchant down? Or back when she’d had her sights set on him? He doesn’t care for the answer, not really. He’s more impressed that you pulled it off, but Astarion certainly doesn’t miss the irony of it all. His lovely partner, casting aside your usual goody nature in favor of stealing something and getting one up on the woman who’d disrespected your lover. As if he wasn’t fond enough of you already - this was just another lovely little reminder of the lengths you’d go for him.

♡ His smile for a moment is all teeth, shoulders still shaking with the last dregs of laughter - which damn if he didn’t need - as he brings his free arm to curl around your side. The kiss pressed to your cheek is quick, vibrating with the appreciative hum that passes the spawn’s lips when you lean a little into him. Once he pulls away Astarion keeps his free hand looped around your side, the other holding the bottle up and giving the contents a dramatic little shake to show off.

♡ Perhaps he’ll keep this as a little secret; or maybe he’ll spend the rest of that night flaunting this potion teasing you for your first act of casual thievery. Whatever the outcome it’s worth the grin he flashes you as he gives a conspiratory wink and declares.

♡ “Oh my dear. We’ll make a fine miscreant of you yet!”

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 astarion #astarion #tav x astarion #astarion x reader #request #anon

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