#both had about THREE fanfics of what i was searching for
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sunrisecaminus · 2 days ago
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Hi hi! I read a few of your posts and love the way you write. I was wondering if I could request a fav duo of mine Knockout and Breakdown x nonbinary reader. SFW or NSFW, wherever your creativity takes you!
I had a blip of a dream where KO and Breaks were analyzing the aftermath of an emergon mine and come across the reader half buried in the rubble outside. Half dazed and panicked, begging, asking the two if they see anyone else in the rubble and if they can get them out (they are a ranger who was helping a search and rescue, and have no idea if anyone else made it out after them). I can't recall what happened next, but the reader lost half of their left leg and was recovering, going to physical therapy when the duo wanted to stay and check up on them. Feeling guilty that they passively caused the accident and help the reader recover.
But the thing is... what would happen during their time together? Love? Friendship? A new understanding of earth?
The reader, best to my meory, was very loyal, honest, selfless, and kind. Though they had the vibes of a punk, think tattoos and piercings along with the spiky jacket - the hard shell to keep their very sweet and soft side safe.
Thank you! 💗
Message - Not me listening to sad music while writing this. I got a bit too deep in the story. Sorry if it gets a bit sad ;-; (ALSO LOOK AT THE SCREENSHOT!!! IS KNOCKOUT DOING A uwu?!)
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Breakdown x Injured Reader x Knockout SFW
Summary - Knockout and Breakdown take care of a Cybertronian search and rescue soldier. All three get together after a rough night.
Warnings - Hints of Depression
Fanfic Type - Hurt/Comfort
You have been stuck in the Medbay for far too long. Your leg was shredded, your chassis ached, and one of your servos needed surgery. Laying here in bed and doing nothing was one of the worse things that could happen! Well…except you being blasted by an energon mine that got you in this mess in the first place. It doesn't matter! You need Knockout to hurry up with the fixing so you can go back out there to help others. Your duty was to rescue and protect, the job meant everything to you, as the war has made you lose so many comrades. Cybertronians everywhere were dying by Autobot hands and needed someone to hold them when they travel to the Allspark. Everyone needed someone to care for them, and that was what you were going to do once you GET OUT THIS BED!
Knockout has a chart on how many times you have tried to desperately break out the Medbay. Breakdown is basically a bouncer now, making sure you stay in bed and force you into it when you try to leave. It was annoying for them both, but now it has become a regular task for them, so they have now known you personally for a few months. A Decepticon who wants nothing more than the comfort people around them. It was spark breaking to tell you there was no survivors at the mine. Nothing could make you guiltier, knowing you couldn't be by those soldiers to help them rest or even maybe save them. After the news the first week you were hospitalized, you didn't say a word to anybody. You had to load in everything in your processor and tried not to be disturbed to help yourself heal mentally. Breakdown was a soldier you knew more than Knockout, so Breakdown had to tell Knockout himself who you were and your function was. Knockout saw you as a naive child, nothing more. He couldn't care anymore about the people he lose everyday, so many lives lost because he couldn't do his job right. You only got one chance to save someone's life on the operating table, and in war, most of the time it is a failure. He could understand your pain, but honestly he wants you to be like him and shut the guilt out before it hurts more people. Being a Doctor, Search and Rescue, or anybody that has the job of saving another life…is hard.
Megatron has more than once told Knockout that you were a lost cause, telling him to shut you down and throw you out the airlock when he had the chance. He was going to do it the first month…but hesitated. Knockout hates himself for not ending your life sooner, as you have been diagnosed with PTSD and depression from the incident. Unfortunately, you have been so nice to Breakdown whenever you weren't trying to break out of the medical bay. Breakdown told you many stories of fun times to help you forget what happened, and it helps a lot. You tell him stories about your days in training, and how people usually were goofing around. Knockout couldn't take Breakdown's friend away, so he sucked it up and hid you. After the second month passed, you were in a private medical lab to hide you from Megatron. Knockout lied to him about getting rid of you and slowly give you successful surgeries to repair you. Nothing can give them more pleasure than to see you smile, knowing you are one step ahead to get out and do your job again. Having a free hand to do stuff with, you help Knockout with folding stuff and reading new edition medical books when he is busy. He doesn't have enough time to learn more about being a medical doctor when Megatron is keeping him at work 24/7. Knockout may be a sassy know it all, but he actually goes in stasis only 4 to 5 hours daily. Knockout rarely has time to sleep, and needs to keep going on missions or testing some chemicals that Megatron wants him to have.
It has now been five months, the leg surgery is tomorrow and you see Breakdown coming in after a scouting mission. He gives you the news that Knockout is going to be late for dinner today (you all have been eating together everyday now to catch up on things). You understand Knockout's busy schedule, but it was still sad to see him not be able to do things he likes now a days. "I have had it with Lord Megatron and keeping him away from his birth! Let me speak to hi-" You were going to sit up when Breakdown puts a hand on your shoulder and leans you back on the pillow. "Nope, he would kill all three of us if he figured out you were alive y/n. Keep yourself at bay." He hears you give him a joking huff and grabs his servo with yours. You look up at him and give him a supportive pat on the servo. "Once I heal, I will dump a whole bucket of scraplets on that man." Both of you get a little chuckle, knowing damn well you would never do such a thing.
Breakdown gave you food and both of you started to drink what you had when the topic got serious. Breakdown asks you if you really would want to go back to being a search and rescue. You put the cube down on your lap, looking at him like he just asked you a simple math question. "Of course! It was one of the many things in my life that I pride myself in doing." Breakdown looks down at his energon he didn't drink. "No I mean, what if you get into another accident? You won't be able to live next time it happens." You stop to think about what he said. Well yeah, it was a surprise that anyone could find you the first time. Knowing you could even live with your injuries was lucky. Some would even say you were given a chance by Primus. "I can be more careful next time." Trying to comfort Breakdown was the best you can do. The war is nothing, but death. There is always a way for you to be injured again even if you don't go back to your job.
"No you won't." Breakdown and you both hear a stern tone and look to see Knockout, who had just come back from Megatron's talk. He gives you a glare. "Don't lie, when all you have been doing was injure yourself every time you try to leave this place." You didn't know where this was coming from. Knockout usually wouldn't say anything or make a snarky comment to you whenever you say you were ok. He doesn't seem to be in the mood for light hearted responses from you. Breakdown gets up and sets his drink down. "Knockout what happened?" You see Knockout's expression changed from serious, to grumpy real quick. "Nothing, but I don't want to hear anything about you, y/n, wanting to go back to your old position again." You put your free healed hand up in surrender. "Look I was just saying I can do lighter jobs! I can stay clear of mines for now and just go back to the basics. I use to just come into battle fields after they ended to find people. I can start doing that again." You tried your best not to get on Knockout's bad side. You have no idea this would trigger him. You never saw him angry before. He walks over to his desk and tosses a few files next to the computer. He does not sound anymore calm than he was a few minutes ago. "That will just turn into you doing dangerous stunts again. I am not stupid." Breakdown walks to him from behind and sets a servo on him, about to say something, but got interrupted by Knockout turning to face you. "Y'know I have the authority to take you out of the position? I can right now sign your time of death and send you out of the solar system to keep you from trying to destroy yourself again?" Your optics turn narrow, giving him a serious look. "You better not! I can't leave when I can do something for our peopl-" Knockout interrupts you again. "Stop caring about lives that don't matter anymore!"
It has been a few days after the argument. Your surgery was delayed and the only person who has been visiting you was Breakdown. You still have no idea where Knockouts anger came from. Breakdown tries to tell you he didn't mean it, but you told him you didn't want to hear it from someone else. You wanted to talk to Knockout about it, but he has been avoiding your room ever since. Your leg has been needing another dose of medication to stop it from hurting. The pills were next to the Medbay birth, in reach for you to grab. You sleepily try to grab it with your free servo, hissing when you feel your leg stinging from rubbing against the blanket. Your digits nudge the medicine bottle, when it drops to its side and rolls off the table. "Frag". You look back up at the ceiling, now having to wait for a few hours before Breakdown can come back in. You wish you could get Knockout's attention, but him not being in the room is going to be hard to get him here. You already tried to com him, but he won't answer. You thought first that it was because he is still in a sour mood, but honestly the Star that human's call a sun just came out of the clouds, he probably just got back to sleep after a full night of missions.
Closing your optics, you try to get yourself some rest as well, but you hear footsteps walk in the room. It was odd because Breakdown shouldn't be here this early in the morning. Thank primus they were light footsteps, because you would assume Megatron found you if they sounded heavy. You feel your servo being gently grabbed by another. You open your optics to see Knockout next to your side, having the medicine that was on the floor in his other servo. You don't know if you should speak, his face shows he hasn't really slept good (worse than usual). He looks at you with his red pupils and his expression goes soft. "Hey…" You gave him a supportive rub on his servo with your digits, motioning to him to continue. "Y/n…how do you do it?" You gave him a look of confusion, lifting your head just a bit to show him that he has your attention. He stops looking at you and looks down at your leg, grabbing a cup and opening the medicine bottle. "How do you not feel…empty after so many lives taken from you." The feeling of sorrow and love washes over you. Was this why he was mad? Was he jealous of your hope? You let go of his servo and press your hand against his cheek. "Oh Knockout, you think I haven't lost my will yet?" He looks up at you, his ears twitching a bit of hearing your words. You give him a soft smile. "When I find people who haven't perished yet, I don't try to prolong their pain anymore. I use to…but now, I try to hold them and say whatever they want to hear before they pass. Some mechs just need to hear how proud their mentors are, how they will meet their friends again in the Allspark, others just wanting to be promised to have a respectful burial." You rub your digits on Knockout's upper cheek. "My job is to give them closure…nothing more."
He gives you a look of understanding. Breakdown walked in as you were talking and now has his servos on Knockout's shoulders for support. Knockout lets a sigh out. "I just wish you could give the same care to yourself." You nod. Honestly you needed to hear that. There has been no self care for you in years. It was just other people that was your priority, but having a break to yourself was always seemed useless to the cause. Breakdown, Knockout, and you eat together, finally back together after a bit of a bump in your relationship. You think for a moment and look to Knockout. "Were you angry from what I said or was it something else?" Knockout smiles to himself, knowing his anger was from something dumb. "No, Starscream told Megatron I do nothing and is just lazy. Megatron talked to me about demotion, but I saved it by showing him my paperwork." You look back at your energon cube and think for a second before looking at Breakdown. "Hey that bucket of scraplets wasn't too bad of an idea after all."
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fizzy-fizzy · 2 years ago
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I am TIRED of these people on ao3.
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werewolfnarrative · 3 months ago
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EXCLUSIVE TREATMENT
M!Sylus and F!Reader. "Goodcat Code" inspired;
GENRE: smut, a little bit of plot;
WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT, kissing, teasing (Sylus has a sensible body), boob and nipple sucking, oral (M!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie.
ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS FANFIC ARE CONSENTING ADULTS. PROCEED CAREFULLY AND DO NOT ATTEMPT TO RECREATE THESE SITUATIONS IN REAL LIFE.
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You were greeted with the eternal night of the N109 Zone. The plane had just landed and you were now in the airport waiting to be picked up. A new Protocore auction was about to happen, and Jenna was confident in your skills to navigate the area.
Luke and Kieran were meant to pick you up at the south entrance and take you to Onychinus' base. When you leave the big glass doors there is no soul or vehicle around. You double check the messages. Nothing.
Your cellphone rings. "Hey, hold on tight!" The voice of the twins echoed through the dark. "There has been a... problem but we are on our way." Just as the audio ends, a fancy black car shows up in your field of vision.
"What happened? Is it related to Sylus?" You ask as they help you put your luggage in the trunk. "Ah, good night." You quickly add. They look at each other, a very noticeable nervousness in the air. "Of course not, he's fine."
Sylus was not, in fact, fine. He had woken up this morning (night) feeling dizzy, even though he never got sick. There were important preparations to be made in regards to the Protocore auction, so he just send Luke and Kieran take care of them so he woudn't have to expose himself so much. And the worst part of it is that you would be arriving in a few hours.
He locked himself in his study and told the staff to not be bothered. The cook and cleaning were dispensed for the day. The only way he would even interact with the world outside is through the twins, and they were running left and right to make everything perfect.
"He's fine." Kieran confirmed.
The house was bathed in shadows and eerily silent when the three of you arrived. No one commented on it, nor the absence of the host. Your luggage was delivered to the guest room (the one closest to Sylus' own bedroom was always used by you when you visited. Some of your plushies from Linkon decorated the walls) and then you were alone.
"Hi, Sylus. Are you home?" You try to call him. No one picks up, so you leave a voicemail. "I arrived safely, and so did the twins. Thank you for picking me up." A few minutes go by until a hoarse voice reaches your ears. "I'm glad you're here."
What was that? He never used words like that, and there was something wrong with his voice. You begin to search around the house on your own, since Luke would always give avoidant answers and his twin was out for the preparations. There were no lights under the door to his bedroom.
The door opens silently and you come in. You think about turning on the lights, but that would reveal your position to the one downstairs. The search was going smoothly, even in darkness, until you see two glowing red dots at the top of his bed.
"Got lost, sweetie?" The tall figure got up and began approaching you. "Why are you in the dark, you crazy? It's bad for your eyes." He lets out an amused chuckle. "I couldn't find you anywhere so I began searching."
"Worried about me?" He whispers. Even then, you can still hear a different timbre to his voice. You paw at the walls, trying to find the light switch. A strong white light fills the room, and both of you groan at the sudden luminosity.
You let out an "ouch" when you open your eyes for the first time. The sight before you is surely a trick of the light. When you look at this angle, it almost looks like Sylus is sporting cat ears and a tail. His eyes are still closed and he is standing completely still, wich gives you enough time to absorb his features.
The (very real) ears twitch, and the tail moves languidly behind. There are slight eyebags under his eyes and his posture is a little... sad? "What the hell happened to you?" He winces. "Remember our little Kitty Cards game last night, kitten? There is a strange Evol affecting me and I think they are related."
"I guess you are the kitten now, Sylus." You spat back at him. "Is it temporary?" He nods and moves to turn of the light switch. You stand in front of it, stopping him in his tracks.
One look at his face is all it takes to see he is not happy. In fact, tired is the word that explains it better. "If you want to stay, stay. I'm going to bed." He unceremoniously turns around and plops onto the mattress, face down.
"Are you going to stay here all day?" "I can't exactly leave until I get back to normal. Feel free to do whatever you want in the meantime." You're pretty sure he was talking about the black credit card, or exploring the base, but you immediately lay down on the bed beside him. His ears twitch in interest and he puts his tail on top of you.
"Whatever I want?" He shifts on the bed to look at you. "Does my kitten have something in mind?" You giggle and reach for his white fur, meeting no resistance. He grumbles when you run your fingertips across his hair and then his ears.
You start going lower, cradling his face in both of your hands. He is sitting up now, also wrapping his arms around you to secure your body in place. He nibbles every patch of skin he can reach as you continue your journey, caressing his neck and then finding purchase on his shoulders. You bite him a little more strongly and he moans.
"If you're touching me like this, does this means I can touch you too?" You nod and your mouths meet halfway. Both of you alternate between kisses to squeezing and groping. There is a blush on his face as you feel run your hands through his pecks and stomach. His hand moves to your breasts and begins teasing your hard peaks.
"I tought you said you were going to bed?" You tease. He turns your body around quickly, standing up as you are pushed down to the matress. You are now under Sylus as he kisses you fervently and purrs against your skin. "My kitten is very bold today. I am going to bed, just not alone."
Sylus makes a show of taking of his thin shirt, the upper part of his body leaving nothing to imagination. You can see his bulge protruding from his pants and your stomach pools with desire. He guides your hand to his ears and tail again, and whimpers when you give the sensitive skin a soft pinch.
"Take them off." You begin undressing your many layers, still in your travel outfit. Sylus hums in satisfaction and begins licking your tits as soon as they are in view. You forget completely of your pants while he makes you shiver in his grasp, sucking the nubs until they are swollen.
"I-I want -" He begins, but stops midway. His feline ears droop down. "Tell me what you want." You reply, remembering all the times he said the same thing to you, in this same bedroom. Sylus guides your head to his strained pants, and you understand.
His tip is angry red when you pull his waistbands off. Precum is already gathering at the tip, and you prepare your mouth for what's to come. Sylus seems to be more desperate today, since he is moaning and telling you to hurry up. "Want to be inside your pretty mouth."
You begin sucking and playing with the tip. That is already enough to have his hips bucking into the air as you continue your descend. "Calm down love, I'll get there." During all of your relationship, you had never seen Sylus like this. Was the cat Evol affecting him so badly?
"Please let me come inside your mouth. Let me -" He stops again, clearly embarassed. His flush now spread to his shoulders and his chest. "Let me what, darling?" The pet name, along with you sucking his shame out through his dick makes him a little less bashfull.
"Want to breed." He declares like it's his most precious secret. "Want to make you full of my litter." During these times, you were sure Sylus had a breeding kink, even if he refused to talk about it if not in moments like this.
Even then, he continues guiding your head to deepthroat his dick, gasping loudly when you suck. "I won't last long, kitten I -" You produce a loud slurping sound and run your tongue all across his lenght.
He explodes in your mouth with a loud groan.
You wait a few seconds for him to open his eyes, his release still in your mouth. You swallow and see something flash behind his eyes. Just like earlier, you are wrestled to be under him, cock still hard and teasing your folds.
"Do you have any idea of what you do to me?" Sylus teases your entrance while playing with your clit. "How hard it was not to pounce on you the moment you came through that door? I tought about you all day." He mumbles, more to himself than to anyone else, and continues his job to make his cock fit inside.
You feel the telltale strech as he makes his way through your walls. Both your and Sylus' moans fill the room, eyes shut to absorb the pleasure. "Look at me. Want to see you." He demands. After a few more tries, he finally bottoms out.
"Why didn't you respond to my texts? My calls?" His ears droop, but his tail wraps as strongly as possible onto your leg while he nuzzles your chest. "I tought being away from you would be easier. It wasn't."
He begins to move and all your anger dissipates.
Sylus' slender fingers resume his ministrations to your bundle of nerves while his shaft touches all your sensitive spots inside. "So good don't stop!" You scream against his mouth before he kisses you urgently. The bed is shaking with the impact of your bodies. "Ne-next time something like this happens, call me earlier."
He laughs. "My kitten is enjoying the treatment, huh?" There are no toughts in your head while Sylus slams into you. You grind against him, meeting his cock halfway. He whimpers, stopping abruptly to stave off his orgasm. Your release is also approaching quicker than expected.
"If you keep doind this, I won't last long." There is sweat on his forehead and a few wild strands of hair fall atop his eyes. You gently brush them back with your fingers. "I tought you said you wanted to fill me with your litter? Is the fearsome Onychinus leader going back on his word?"
Big mistake.
The rhytm he sets after that is punishing, both to your pussy and your clit. You scream at the sudden pace. Sylus' face is scrunched as he mutters "fuck, fuck, fuck" under his breath. He won't last long indeed. There is one last thing you need to do, tough.
"Sy-Sylus?" You ask. He quirks his eyebrows as if they said "yes?" and you approach his human ear. "I love you."
The reaction is instantaneous. You feel his release fill up your insides, and the last movements Sylus did on your clit were enough to send you over the edge. There was so much of it... cum was starting to run down your tighs as he hugged you flush against his body.
"Are you okay?" Even after your breathing went back to normal, Sylus still looked somewhat feverish. He pushed you down on the now stained covers. "Stay with me."
"Of course. I won't leave until you get better." Sylus did not seem satisfied, based on the flicker of his tail. "I want you to stay forever, even after I go back to normal." It was not the first time he made that request, but it never had such raw vulnerability before.
You would never abandon your life in Linkon. Both you and Sylus knew that. Even so, at that moment, the rest of the world seemed so far away. It woudn't hurt to stay for a while, would it?
"I am never going to be able to look at boss again." Kieran had come back from his chores a few minutes ago, and the sounds coming from the master bedroom were unmistakeable. Luke, already knowing of the activities, was blasting loud music through his headphones.
"At least you won't have to run around doing things anymore." The twin responded. "Until he goes back to normal, anyway."
Looking through the multiple drawers, Kieran grabs another set of headphones. He finds a very long trash metal playlist. Good enough. "I won a break at work, but will surely need a terapy session after this."
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onlymingyus · 1 year ago
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Love Scene (svthub's cupid for you collab)
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pairing; choi seungcheol x f reader
genre; smut (minors dni)
warnings; alcohol, poor knowledge of wine (on my part), pet names, seungcheol is a simp, unprotected sex, manhandling/cheol lifts the reader, mentions of the readers lipstick color (could look different on all skin tones), begging, slight dom!seungcheol, big dick!seungcheol, lingerie kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, cum eating, breeding kink, aftercare
w/c; 5.3k 
svthub cupid for you masterlist
a/n; this is part of the svthub cupid for you collab valentine's gift exchange event. my fic is for my valentine @multi-kpop-fanfics. i hope you enjoy this wifey. i had a lot of fun writing cheollie for you. happy valentines day. i love you. thank you to @wongyuseokie and @onlyhuis for proofreading for me!
before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here
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Seungcheol smiles against the wine glass pursed on his lips. You looked beautiful as you listened to the woman drone on about the notes and undertones of the wine that she had been pouring for the two of you to try, but Seungcheol had stopped paying attention three bottles ago. 
“This one is a Cabernet Sauvignon.” 
You hum along with the woman’s words as you bring the glass to your lips, taking a sip of the dark red liquid and letting the dry wine rest on your tongue, trying to taste the notes she was explaining even as you feel Seungcheol’s eyes on your face. 
“A personal favorite and one I know a lot of couples tend to want to take home, especially on evenings like this. Notes of cranberries and dark chocolate. What do you think, Seungcheol?” 
Hearing his name from the host, your boyfriend smiles, looking away from you to pick up the glass, tipping it back quicker than you had. You watch as he swirls the liquid on his tongue, tilting his head only to purse his lips and look at yours as you let them part ever so slightly in amusement. 
“Not my favorite, honestly. Especially if I’m buying a bottle for Valentine’s Day. I want something sweet. Something that will make me feel as good as I do when I look at her.” 
He was being ridiculous, and you couldn’t help but look away, feeling your cheeks burning at his attempts to be sweet. The woman laughs, reaching for the glasses in front of you, and Seungcheol pulls them back towards her before she searches her inventory for the perfect choice as you shake your head. 
“Seriously, Cheol?” 
Smiling, Seungcheol leans to press his lips against your warm cheek, chuckling at the heat under his lips even as you try to pull away, feeling embarrassed by his public display of attention. 
“Of course, I’m serious, Y/N. It’s Valentine’s Day. If there was any day for me to be as cheesy as possible, it’s today, and you look beautiful. I can’t help it…  I think Cupid shot me in the ass because I’m head over heels for you, baby.” 
Scoffing, you push Seungcheol away, listening to his laughter, even as you attempt to hide your laugh, muttering about how stupid he is. 
“Stupidly in love with you.” 
"Ya, could you shut up Choi Seungcheol?” 
Turning back towards you and a now playfully pouty Seungcheol, the woman laughs under her breath as she shows you both a different bottle of wine. 
“This is a Chateau Chantal Cherry Port. This is the sort of dessert wine I would recommend serving with chocolate. Perfect for a day like today.” 
Seungcheol watches your lips pull up into a smile as the dark liquid is poured into two small port glasses and offered to you. He lets you taste it first, listening to the soft sound of appreciation that escapes your lips before he tilts his glass back and his eyes widen. 
“Oh wow…” 
You can only nod along as you watch your boyfriend this time. He had spent the day “stupidly in love” with you, but now you were almost drunk with how much you were clearly enamored with the man. 
“Rich cherries with a bit of tobacco and wood smoke depth makes this port special." 
Neither of you were paying attention to your host at this point, as Seungcheol notices you looking at him, the glass resting on his lips as he finishes what is left in his glass. He needed to get you out of here. What made this special was you, not any underlying notes or fruits or what barrel the wine had been aged in. 
“We’ll take a bottle.” 
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You smile, leaning your head back against the wall next to your front door, as Seungcheol’s lips press against the column of your throat. He had barely kept his hands to himself the entire drive home, but you weren’t complaining. You were on fire for him, and it would seem the feeling was mutual. 
Groaning against your skin, Seungcheol’s fingers slide along your arm to your wrist, where your fingers are wrapped around a blue jasmine bouquet he had stopped to pick up on the way home. He tried to be careful, dragging your arm up the wall, knowing you were holding the flowers, but he could feel petals hitting his shirt and hear the soft fluttering as they fell to the ground. 
“Cheol…” 
His brows furrowing at the level of need in your voice as you say his name, Seungcheol rakes his teeth against your throat before pulling back to look at your pretty face, leaning in to press his plush lips to yours. Your lips were almost the same color as the wine that he had bought for the two of you to share for the night, and it was driving him crazy. 
You whimper against his lips, and Seungcheol feels his cock starting to stiffen in his pants, causing him to hiss and lean his forehead against yours in an effort to calm himself down. Your free hand was tugging at his dress shirt under his jacket, pulling it from his pants already, but he had two bags in his hand and a plan for the evening before he wanted to have you on his cock. 
“You are so fucking perfect. I love you so much.” 
Seungcheol feels your smile against his cheek as he leans to brush his lips against your ear to whisper in your ear. He could feel the chill bumps spreading along your skin. As hard as he was making this for himself, he knew it was just as difficult for you not to beg him  to take you to bed. 
“My forever valentine.” 
Your fingernails almost rip at Seungcheol’s shirt as you feel his hot breath against the shell of your ear, but his words cause your heart to swell. He was cheesy, and you couldn’t help but smile, but he was making you fall in love with him all over again. 
“I love you too, Cheol. I–can we just..." 
He knew what you were going to ask. Smiling, Seungcheol shakes his head, making you whine as he pulls back from you, only stopping to kiss you gently before taking your free hand and guiding you towards the kitchen. 
“Not yet. Patience, darling.” 
You did want to have patience, but as you followed Seungcheol into the kitchen, his fingers falling from yours as he laid his bags on the island, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. You knew how important today was to him. Every day with you was important to him, but holidays, no matter how commercial and silly they really were, were important if they could be spent with you and celebrating you. 
“Here, sit down, baby. Let me grab a couple of things.” 
Seungcheol watches you smile as he turns the swiveling high bar stool towards you. He loved your smile. He loved how easily he could make you happy on days like this. Just little actions would have you smiling and giggling for him, and that had Seuncheol’s chest feeling tight with love. 
Turning you back towards the island, Seungcheol leans to kiss your cheek, listening to your soft laughter as he leaves you watching him. He could hear you shifting behind him, but he kept himself to his task: two wine glasses, a plate, and a fork. No matter how much he wanted to take you to bed right away, he needed to practice the patience he expected you to have. 
Crossing your arms on the counter, you lay your chin on your hand, tilting your head slightly while watching your boyfriend complete his tasks. He was effortlessly handsome, and you could imagine every day of the rest of your life spent like this. He made it as easy as breathing. 
He smiled as he looked at you fondly, seeing you with your head resting on the counter. Seungcheol reaches for the bags, taking out the bottle of wine from the vineyard along with a plain box that he had been insistent on stopping to get on the way home. 
“You are so cute. I can’t stand when you look at me like that.” You smile once again, and Seungcheol’s heart beats quicker. “You make it hard for me to tell you no.” 
“Then why would you ever tell me no, Cheol?” 
Shaking his head, Seungcheol carefully opens the wine, letting out a sigh as he holds one of the delicate wine glasses in his left hand and pours some of the deep red liquid into it. 
“I rarely do. I just ask for patience, like right now. I want to do this in the right order. I got you nice things; I want to enjoy them with you and then enjoy you. Is that so terrible?” 
Biting at your lips, you feel your cheeks burning at Seungcheol’s words and his meaning. He was right. You knew he had spoiled you in so many ways, over and over again. Today was no different. You watched how he held the wine glass in his fingers, and it reminded you of how he held you on so many occasions, as if you’d break, like you were precious. 
“It’s not… I just want you so much. I miss you already.” 
Sliding the glass across the bar to you, Seungcheol grins, tilting his head at your wording. You missed him? He was right in front of you, albeit separated by some quartz and wood, but he knew what you meant; he would still make you say it. 
“Is that so? Sweetheart, I’m right here. How could you possibly–” 
"Cheol, you know what I mean.” 
Cutting off his words, you whine out your own, causing Seungcheol to chuckle as he pours his own glass of the port before putting the bottle to the side, picking up his glass, and bringing it to his nose as he swirls the liquid gently in the glass. 
“Why don’t you just tell me, Princess?" 
It wasn’t a question; rather, it was a request, a command. Licking your lips, your eyes move to your wine glass, your fingers running over the stem as your lips pull up into a small smirk, knowing Seungcheol’s eyes are on you. You know he’s watching as you pout your lips slightly and bat your lashes in a way that drives him crazy. 
“I miss your lips on mine; I miss them on my skin. I want you inside of me, baby.” 
Tipping his glass back against his lips, Seungcheol takes a breath through his nose as the wine hits his tongue when you finally tell him what he wants to hear. He would give you what you wanted in due time. Shaking his head, Seungcheol smiles against the delicate glass, lowering his eyes to meet yours as you take your first sip of the wine, letting out a small happy sound to the taste. 
“And I want to be inside of you, and I will be if you can be patient with me. I have a treat for you. It’s a special day, remember?” 
You smile, lifting your shoulders as you nod in response, watching Seungcheol turn the plain white box towards you. You could smell the sweet dessert, but you weren’t entirely sure what it was. It wasn’t until he lifted the lid that your mouth started to water, and you kicked your feet out of happiness. 
“My favorite…” 
“Mm, only the best for you, darling. The last slice of red velvet cake from your favorite bakery. I called ahead to make sure she put it back for me. Are you happy?” 
Lifting the fork, Seungcheol smiles, watching you nod as he cuts off the tip of the cake before turning the bite towards you and letting you lean in to take it from the fork. Watching your eyes close and listening to the sound of your pleasure from enjoying your favorite dessert causes his smile to widen, with his eyes closing very slightly. It was almost better than sharing it with you, just watching you enjoy it on your own. 
“It’s perfect. You have to try some. It’s perfect with the port. Let me?” 
With your fingers sliding over his, you take the fork from Seungcheol, cutting off the next bite of red velvet cake and offering it to him as he continues to smile at you. It’s only after urging him to take it, the crumb of the cake brushing against his lips, that your boyfriend takes the bite from the fork, his brows furrowing to the sweet taste, and he closes his eyes, savoring it. 
Taking another bite, you hum happily as Seungcheol runs his thumb along his lips to push away any remaining crumbs. Watching you eat, Seungcheol brings his wine to his lips with a smile as he uses his free hand to scroll through his phone. The atmosphere was almost perfect. The two of you in the comfort of your house, your favorite cake in front of you, shared the perfect dessert wine, but the sound of music made you look surprised. 
“Dance with me?” 
Seungcheol’s fingers run along your hand as you drop the fork on the mostly empty plate as Florence & The Machine’s Stand by Me plays quietly from the phone resting on the kitchen counter. You can only nod, letting your boyfriend spin your chair away from the island as he grins at you and your serious expression. Helping you down from the stool, Seungcheol slides his fingers around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as he takes the lead, swaying with you to the rhythm of the music. 
“What is that look for? It’s your favorite…” 
Of course, it was. Of course, he remembered. Leaning your cheek against his shoulder, you smile, closing your eyes as Seungcheol hums along with the words to the song until you finally speak. 
“This is perfect, Cheol. You’ve done too much.” 
Humming as he considers your words, Seungcheol leans his head back so he can look down at you, causing you to look up at him as he does. You watch as he shakes his head, finally disagreeing with you. Gentle fingers caress your cheek before Seungcheol allows his hand to rest against the side of your neck, keeping you grounded as if you might float away from him. 
“Never enough. I love you, and it’s Valentine’s day… I’m just enjoying your company. I’m enjoying that pretty look on your face when you like something.” 
Pouting slightly, you watch as Seungcheol smiles into a laugh, leaning to gently press his lips against your pout. 
“No more pouting, sweetheart. Finish this dance with me….hm?” 
Your lips pull up against Seungcheol’s lips as his fingers trail along your neck and up against the side of your hair. Your skin was starting to feel warm again at his attention. You were wanting him badly again, feeling his body so close to yours even as the sweet words of the song attempted to keep you in the moment. 
Hearing your soft whimper when he pulls back from your lips, Seungcheol bites at his bottom lip as he lets you turn in front of him, his fingers loosely holding yours. With a gentle tug, he pulls you back into his arms as the song ends, and your eyes once again find his desire burning just under the surface. 
Seungcheol smiles, his teeth slowly sliding from his bottom lip as he shakes his head, trying to keep himself in check as you look at him like that. You listen to his gentle sigh as you feel his fingers work the zipper of your dress down your back. The weight of the material causes your dress to slide forward on your shoulders when Seungcheol takes a step back from you to press his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up towards him. 
“Have I told you how beautiful you are today? How much I love you in this dress?” 
Watching you smile, your head tilting, Seungcheol trails his fingers back up your arms to where your dress was precariously resting on your shoulders. With a gentle brush of his fingers, your dress falls to the floor, a discarded pile at your feet as his eyes move over your body. 
“But I love this even more. Shit, baby…” 
Seungcheol groans, moving his hands to your waist before scratching his nails lightly down to your hips to rest his palms over the burgundy lace that covered your body. You were driving him crazy, his cock now throbbing hard in his pants as Seungcheol’s eyes dilated, looking at you in the bodysuit. 
“Do you like it?”
Letting out a breath at your question, Seungcheol shakes his head, trying to come up with the right words, before just taking a step back and lifting his hand to rub his palm over his mouth in awe. Watching you turn in front of him, showing him every angle, your boyfriend can only scoff as you let out a playful laugh, lowering your lashes when you face him once again. That was the last straw. 
“Don’t ask silly questions, sweetheart.” 
You start to defend yourself when you find yourself lifted off your feet. Wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, you smile against Seungcheol’s lips as he groans to the feeling of your body flush with his as he starts the walk towards the bedroom. 
“I remember how to walk, Cheol.” 
“I don’t give a fuck." Your back hits the bed, and you feel the breath get knocked out of your lungs as Seungcheol looks down at you from the side of the bed like you were something to eat. “I wanted you here at my pace." 
Seungcheol grins as your teeth catch your red lips, pulling at them as you try to hide how much you like his words. He knew how much you liked him manhandling you and how much you were going to like everything that was going to happen to you. 
“Mm, I’m here. What are you going to do with me now, sir?" 
Fuck, you were trying to kill him. Shaking his head, Seungcheol chuckles as you tease him with not only your words but also your toes running along the inseam of his dress pants. He groans as you bite your lips, working your foot all that much closer towards his leaking cock, still trapped behind layers of clothing. 
“Exactly what you asked me for in the kitchen, darling.”
Watching Seungcheol’s hands move along his torso to undo his shirt, you laugh quietly at his words, knowing he would keep his promise. Your eyes follow his every move just as they do when your back arches and your legs cross, allowing you to press your thighs together, giving you some much needed relief from the arousal soaking into the lace barely covering your pussy. 
Clothes hit the floor in different corners until Seungcheol finally lets out a breath of relief, wrapping his hand around his cock and stroking himself slowly. With his free hand, he pries your legs open, only to then bring down his palm hard on your inner thigh, granting himself a half moan, half whine from your pretty lips to the pleasurable sting. 
“Keep your legs open. With how you are acting, I might as well have let you grind on a pillow while I was getting undressed, princess. Are you that fucking needy?” 
You can only furrow your brows and nod, your fingers running along the lace covering your breasts and stomach as Seungcheol’s hands press into your thighs and trace your curves along your hips to your ass and back to your thighs once again. 
“Dying to be touched that badly? Are you ruining your present for me? I liked this piece of lingerie, but I’m more than willing," You whined, hearing and feeling the sound of lace ripping at your hips as Seungcheol’s fingers dug into the delicate material. “To replace it. I’m not, however, patient enough to fucking figure out how to get you out of it. I’d rather fuck you while you are in it.” 
Lifting your hips, your eyes move down to where Seungcheol’s fingers slide under the torn lace. You watch as he smirks, digging his fingers into the burgundy material, watching how easily it gives way to his strength before he moves his fingers to the center of your legs, running two fingers over the wet patch that had grown exponentially with his actions. 
“You like that idea, don’t you, my pretty little slut?” 
Seungcheol watches you lick your lips before you nod and rock your hips against his fingers. He knew you like the back of his hand. 
“Yes…fuck. Please, Cheol? I don’t want to wait anymore. I’ve wanted you all day long.” 
You were so greedy, and he loved that about you. He was just as greedy, if not more. Grinning, Seungcheol leans down to run his tongue along the lace as he hooks a finger under it. Soon, your whines turn into full blown moans as Seungcheol runs his knuckle along your folds before circling your leaking entrance slowly with his index finger. 
Pushing into your soft, tight walls, Seungcheol groans against the wet lace, furrowing his brows. You were addictive, from your sounds to your taste. He knew you didn’t want to wait, but he didn’t want to hurt you. He could feel you squeezing around his finger like a vice, and that already had his cock twitching against your thigh at the thought of being inside of you. 
“Please….just —” 
You let out a soft, breathy whine as Seungcheol kisses your thigh, sliding a second finger into you beside his first. You wanted to complain that it wasn’t his cock, but when he rolls his fingers back towards the top of your pussy with perfect precision, the words leave your mind as quickly as they had entered them. 
Seungcheol grunts, running his lips against your soft skin, feeling your slick arousal coating his fingers. He wanted to get his tongue on you. He wanted this lace out of his way, but at the same time, he didn’t want it off of you. Seungcheol hadn’t been lying about wanting to fuck you in it, so there was only one thing to be done. 
“Cheol!” 
A smirk causes Seungcheol’s lips to pull up to one side when you yell his name, feeling your lingerie give way between your legs as he uses his fingers to rip the lace apart. With nothing in his way, Seungcheol slides his fingers back into your warm pussy and runs his tongue between your folds, groaning as he circles the tip around your clit, feeling you buck your hips up against his mouth. 
You feel your stomach tightening as your orgasm starts to take over quickly with Seungcheol’s relentless actions, but it isn’t until a third finger is carefully worked in with the others that you fall over the edge. Your head thrown back against the bedding, you lace your fingers into Seungcheol’s hair, moaning his name as you cum around his fingers, feeling him smile against your folds. 
“Mm…fuck.” 
His words are muffled against your pussy as Seungcheol lets his fingers carefully slip from you, and his tongue replaces them in order to collect as much of your cum as possible. Only when your thighs shake around his head and you whimper his name, begging for him to give you a break, does Seungcheol move his mouth from between your legs, opting to press soft, wet kisses to your thighs. 
“You are trying to kill me.” 
Lips once again, pulling up at your words, Seungcheol shakes his head, nipping at your thigh, causing you to whine at feeling overstimulated once again, tugging at his hair to make him stop. 
“I’m not. I just like watching you tremble like that. You are so fucking pretty. You taste so good. I could eat you out all day long.” 
You wanted to reiterate your words after hearing his. It felt like he was trying to kill you as you felt Seungcheol’s hands sliding along your legs and up your sides as he moved between your legs to lay over you. You found yourself pouting only to hear him chuckle and to feel Seungcheol’s lips press against yours to soften the pout before the kiss turned into something much deeper and filled with longing. 
Seungcheol’s fingers press into your side next to your breast before he groans against your lips, rolling his hips to meet yours and feeling your wet folds against his aching cock. You were warm and wet, and if anyone felt like they were dying right now, it was him. He wanted to give you time to calm down after your first orgasm, but he was also aching to be inside of you after prepping you. 
“Mm, baby, you feel so good. I just…fuck.” 
You could hear the strain in his voice as you felt him rutting between your legs. Your thighs were still trembling; all you could manage were soft moans and begs against Seungcheol’s lips for him to get inside of you. At first, you aren’t sure he understands you until you feel the head of his cock press into you, and his hips slowly move to meet yours. 
The stretch, even after all of his prep, is intense. Seungcheol is a large man, from his arms to his chest and all the way to his cock, now buried inside of you as he stays still for a moment, waiting for you to adjust. Eyes locked on your face, Seungcheol takes a deep breath, feeling your walls tighten around him, causing his head to spin before you take a breath of your own and whisper his name. 
“Pl—please…need it. I want you to. You feel so good, baby. You are so big, Cheol.” 
Everything you said was bad for Seungcheol’s ego. You were always making him feel like he was the most important thing in the world and in the bedroom like he was the only man you would ever need again in your life. That was all he needed and wanted. He wanted you ruined for anyone else. He wanted to leave an imprint of himself inside of you so that you would never forget that you were his, and if you needed a reminder, he would be there every single day of your life to give it to you. 
Lips brushing against your ear, Seungcheol groans your name like a prayer. His pace quickens as he buries his cock deep inside of you. Pulling your leg up to his hip, he hisses at the feeling of your nails scratching at his biceps before thrusting hard, making you cry out in pleasure. 
“Put your leg around me, baby. I want you to cum on my cock.” You nod, letting him help you wrap your leg around his hip so that your foot rests on the top of his ass, the new angle causing you to see stars along with his words. “I fucking love the feeling of your cum on my dick, baby. Give it to me." 
Between Seungcheol’s words and the way his cock was dragging along your walls, you didn’t stand a chance of lasting much longer. The coil winding tighter and tighter snaps as Seungcheol’s teeth rake along the side of your neck, and you see white. 
With your walls gripping his cock like a vice, Seungcheol groans against your neck, his breath caught in his throat as he feels your cum coat his length with every deep thrust into your heavenly pussy. Holding your thigh tightly, Seungcheol leans back to look down at you as he starts to chase his own high. 
"God, I’m so close. Wanna leave you full of me...dripping, so I can fuck it back into you.” 
Your cheeks burn at Seungcheol’s dirty mouth, and your eyes close, causing him to chuckle before you hear his pleasured groan, knowing he truly is getting close. You could feel him getting closer. All the signs that you had grown to know over your time with him were the same. The way he would pull you closer, his hand almost bruising your skin, his hot breath on your jaw, and the way he would bury himself as deep as possible inside of you, intent on filling you fully. 
Seungcheol’s choked groans fill your ears as he falls over the edge. His warm cum spilled into you, only to be fucked back into you with deep, smooth thrusts. Catching his breath, Seungcheol smiles as he feels cum begin to seep from you and between your thighs, knowing he had done exactly what he had promised. 
Leaning back on his hand, Seungcheol groans. He helps you rest your leg back on the bed and off to the side as he continues to slowly push the mixture of his cum and yours back into your tender pussy. He could feel himself softening and how he was overstimulating himself, but it was worth it to hear your soft whimpers and to watch the cum drip from you and around his cock as you ran your fingers between your folds and through the sticky mess, much to his delight. 
“Shit…yes. Does that feel good, baby? You gonna give me one more? Use that cum to get off around me one more time tonight." 
Meeting your eyes, Seungcheol nods along with you as you roll your hips over his cock and your fingers, letting yourself cum one last time. Your eyes closing, and you let out a soft breath and whispered his name as your boyfriend slipped from you with a soft groan. You feel his plush, perfect lips work from your jaw to your lips before the bed feels suddenly empty for a few moments. 
Exhaustion keeps you from searching for Seungcheol as he sits on the edge of the tub, running his fingers under the taps, letting the water come to the perfect temperature. Leaning towards the door every few seconds, he checks to make sure you haven’t moved, only to smile at seeing you breathing softly, your eyes still closed as you rest, waiting for him. 
After a few minutes, you feel your lips once again press against yours, bringing you back to reality as Seungcheol’s arm moves under your back and the other under your legs. He simply grins against your cheek, hearing your soft mutters of how you could walk before he sits you on the toilet and runs his fingers over your hair, watching you finally open your eyes to look up at him. 
“Hi…” 
“Hi yourself. I ran a bath and brought the rest of our wine in here. Does that sound good?” 
Nodding, you smile, causing him to do the same. You let him help you back to your feet once you were ready. Holding on to your arms, Seungcheol helps you into the bath before sliding in behind you and letting you rest your back on his chest, his fingers running along the stem of a wine glass, the other hand resting on your stomach. 
You can’t help but smile as you bring your wine to your lips, taking a sip of the sweet wine before leaning your head back against his shoulder and feeling his lips press to the side of your head. You were exhausted, but this had been the perfect Valentine’s day. Seungcheol was the perfect Valentine, and he was your forever Valentine. 
“I love you, Y/N.” 
Seungcheol’s lips against your ear; his words cause your skin to erupt with chill bumps and for you to laugh into your words as you turn to meet his lips speaking against his. 
“I love you too, Cheol. Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.” 
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thecharacterchronicler · 8 months ago
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The Bitter Taste Of My Fury (Part 4) || Coriolanus Snow X Reader || Smut
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GIF is not mine, credits to the creator/owner ❤️
Outline: After a vicious attack from the rebels, Coriolanus lets some of his true feelings for you show.
Word count: 5’133
Warnings: death, murder, PTSD and explicit smut.
Author’s note: I wrote this forever ago and can’t seem to be 100% satisfied with it for some reason, I’m feeling awfully self conscious putting this out so please have mercy on me.
I made a few changes to the original story so that it would fit with my fanfic. (Making the quarter quell for which they sent two boys and two girls the 25th one instead of the 50th so that Coriolanus and his wife’s ages would fit into my plot.) I tried to make it readable as a one shot but keep in mind that it’s actually part of a multi-part series if you need/want more context.
It would help me out a lot with my next WIPs if you could answer the poll down below 🖤
((Part 1 - There Will Come A Ruler)) - ((Part 2 - Snow Lands On Top)) - ((Part 3 - Insatiable)) - (( Part 5 - Craving ))
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Coriolanus risked a glance from behind the black curtain to survey the large amphitheater quickly - and noisily - filling up. It was his last speech before the day of the election, his last opportunity to convince the people of Panem that he would be a good president. He had been working on his text for weeks, the last few days he had even stayed up all night to practice and memorize it to the point that the words were constantly turning in his head. He was nervous and, even if he usually was pretty good at hiding it - he felt like all the citizens taking place in the room to listen to him would notice how much he was afraid of messing up.
“You’re supposed to go on stage in five minutes.” Minerva said, Coriolanus’s young assistant was stressed out, as per usual. “Excuse me Sir, but I couldn’t help but notice that your wife isn’t here… Yet ?”
The last time Coriolanus had seen you, you both got into an argument which ended with him, fucking you rougher than what he ever allowed himself to until then. Once he was done with you, you still seemed upset with him and the reason of the dispute still grated on his nerves. For the three following days, he had spent his nights at his office. He had been mulling over what your strong feelings about such a futile matter might mean. He had expected you to be unhappy with his decision to fire Marius, your driver, but he hadn’t thought you’d be so vocal about it, even daring to demand that he be rehired. He had fired a lot of his employees in the past and you had never complained about it once, but your personal driver seemed more important to you than all the others… Was it because you had an affair with him ? Was he the one to provide you with comfort and attention whenever Coriolanus worked late ? And what if he was the one who ended up getting you pregnant ? Surely he couldn’t accept that. His heir needed to be his.
“I sent Alastair to get her an hour ago, they should arrive any minute now.” He replied, his tone unexpectedly soft in contrast to his growing irritation. But he had faith that his own driver would drag you out of the manor himself if you refused to attend such an important event for your husband.
Coriolanus glanced in the amphitheater once again, scanning the crowd in search of your familiar face but still didn’t find it. He tugged on his collar, feeling more stressed than ever before. He knew every word to his speech, he knew exactly how to behave, how to move, how to smile to win this once and for all and yet, beads of nervous sweat were forming on his forehead, his tie suddenly too constricting for his rapid breathing.
When Minerva waved a hand at him, he had no choice but to take his place at the center of the stage, even if he still hadn’t spotted you among the crowd. It was unlikely of you to be late. And even less likely that his driver would be late… The applause and cheers from his audience as he walked out from behind the black curtain almost made him forget about it all though. For a brief moment, he felt the adrenaline buzzing in his body, making him believe that he was capable of anything and proving yet again that his place was there, on stage, at the center of everyone’s admirative attention.
He smiled, waved, spotted a few influential people seating in the first rows and made sure to make eye contact with each of them as he started his speech. His best one.
But no matter how perfect his tone was, how carefully chosen his words were, the crowd slowly began to grow agitated. A few heads turned to take a look at the doors, some noise coming from behind them and before he could even fathom what had happened, an intense blow pushed him back, making his ears ring.
The loud explosion made the foundations of the ampitheater tremble, windows shattered, pieces of the ceiling came crushing to the ground but the chaos that followed was by far the scariest part. People screamed in terror, rushing in every direction to get out, pushing and stepping over each other with no decorum left, the crowd had turned into a bunch of frightened animals and they all were individually fighting for their lives.
A door was opened and a thick dark smoke rapidly filled the room, making everyone cough and scream louder. Coriolanus pulled his collar over his mouth and nose, trying to filter the smoke he’d inhale and retreated behind the black curtain, knowing there would be a door for him to escape much more easily there, out of the frenzy and chaos of the crowd.
He rushed to the back, fleeing by the concealed door while his people kept fighting to escape the suffocating smoke. He looked around, trying to get his thoughts back in order to come up with a plan, he needed to find a way to warn your driver about what had happened, so that he could avoid bringing you straight into danger. Better yet, he could drive you far away from it.
He walked in hurried steps while the people who had managed to escape ran away, the magnificent and imposing capitol building menacing to completely shatter and tumble down into dust. Leaving and reaching the street outside was the best course of action to ensure his safety, but a part of him with visibly no instinct of survival, remained determined to look around in search of a phone or whatever device he could use to warn you. To make sure you’d be safe.
He reached the front desk of the town hall, searching among the fallen bricks and thick layers of rubble with the hope to find something that would work to contact your driver…
Alastair ?
Coriolanus blinked a few times, stopping his frenetic search of the desk to stare at the silhouette running to the doors, recognizing the bald head and small frame of his driver.
“Alastair ?!” He called, as loud as he could to be heard above the distant screams and cries. The man turned around to look at him, fear appearing in his eyes when he recognized his boss… So he kept running.
Coriolanus took off after him, his tall legs giving him a clear advantage to catch up on the older man. He pushed him aside, grabbing him by his collar and slammed him against a dangerously unstable pillar.
“Where is my wife ?” He asked, leveling his face with his so that he could stare at him with his most menacing look.
“The rebels, they attacked… It was an explosion.” Alastair mumbled, inconherently. Coriolanus purposely slammed him against the hard surface again, hoping the shock it caused to his head would bring him back to his senses.
“WHERE IS MY WIFE ?!” He shouted, making it clear that if he had to ask again he might knock him unconscious instead.
“I don’t know, it exploded… The smoke… I ran.”
“You left her ?!” Your husband asked him, rage dangerously starting to take over at the realization that the one he had trusted with your security had so easily left you behind to save his own life.
“I have a family.” Alastair justified, his voice weakening and his breathing coming out raucous and labored. What was that supposed to mean ? That he was more important than you because he had children ? Was he implying that you didn’t deserve to live as much as he did because you hadn’t gave him a heir yet ?
Coriolanus’s gaze fell to his hands, the ones he was holding tightly around his driver’s neck, squeezing with all the strength of his rage. The older man started choking, tried to fight his employer off but he wasn’t strong enough and the shock of the whole situation didn’t help him think rationally enough to hope win this fight for his life.
Tighter.
Alastair’s face became alarmingly pale.
Tighter.
Alastair’s lips turned blue.
Tighter.
Alastair’s body dropped down on the floor.
Dead.
Coriolanus took a step back, watching the limp figure on the ground with clear disgust but he wasn’t sure if he felt it because Alastair had abandoned you or for himself, for adding someone else’s blood to his already stained hands.
There was no time to ponder his actions anyway. The judgment of his morals would have to wait until he found you and got you to safety. It was all that mattered. So, while people were still running out of the falling apart building, he ran back in, straight towards the thick smoke.
He called your name, so desperate to hear your voice answering him but the fleeing crowd was way too loud and agitated for him to hope hearing it and let it lead him to you. But he kept shouting anyway.
Some of his employees found him, tried to convince him to turn around and leave before the ceiling would collapse on him but he refused, determined to find you, even with the smoke burning his lungs and irritating his eyes.
His head was spinning, if the first people he had ran into were wearing their formal attire, slowly he started recognizing the red academy uniforms he used to wear every day. Then, he noticed the colors of a rainbow dress, fading in the thick smoke in front of him. A long time ago, the person wearing it had ran to him to save him from a similar situation, now she seemed to be running away, impossible for him to catch.
Was she the one who had led this violent attack against him ? And now she was here, running around the debris like an untouchable wild animal just to taunt him ? Of course she did. All she ever wanted was to end him. Ruin his life. Ruin everything.
Real or not, he followed her path, desperate to see where she would lead him. He didn’t like the feeling it gave him though, the feeling of being an eighteen years old boy who knew nothing about anything anymore. A naive man, who thought his survival depended on other people rather than on himself.
“Coryo…” Your voice called, answering his calls.
He perked up with a renewed determination to make his way through the smoke and find you. Rainbow colors and blood red uniforms faded from his vision. You were close, so he kept shouting your name, frantically searching around him until he collided against you.
He knew your body well enough by now to instantly recognize you, no one fitted in his arms the way you did. He looked down at you, trying to decipher wether you were injured or not but the dust covering your skin and hair made it hard to spot any trace of blood. He turned around, wanting to go back on his footsteps now that your hand was secured in his but he stopped when he noticed you could barely keep up, limping and coughing after each wince of pain that deformed your face.
Without a word, he came back to you and picked you up, carrying you in his arms even if his lungs were about to give up too. If he was going to die today, so be it but not before he got you out of there.
A plea for help resounded next to you, the barely visible shape of a woman stuck under a heavy pillar outstretching an arm in your direction, begging for her life. Coriolanus looked at her but kept walking, collateral damages were inevitable.
Finally, the smoke started dissipating, replaced by fresh air that burned your lungs in an entirely different way. A large crowd had formed in the street, kept at good distance from the collapsing building by peacekeepers. Many pairs of curious eyes turned to you, recognizing the presidential candidate heroically carrying his wife away from a vicious rebel attack. Some peacekeepers approached, freeing your husband’s arms to carry you to safety. They brought you to a medical tent that had been set up, where professionals and volunteers were running around, trying to care for the many injured and wounded victims.
An oxygen mask was placed on your face, providing you with the air you so desperately needed while a young woman tried to make you as comfortable as possible despite her apparent overwhelm.
“I’ll find some oxygen for you too, Sir.” She promised Coriolanus but he shook his head, refusing.
“Take care of my wife first.” He asked, and the woman nodded before scurrying away.
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Time seemed to slow down as Coriolanus spent countless hours in the armchair next to your hospital bed, watching over you, making sure you were taken well care of and mulling over his thirst for revenge. The rebels had crossed a line with this attack, they were clearly targeting him - and you - with it and that was simply unacceptable. His desire to become the new president of Panem was consuming him more than ever, thinking about the possibilities such a position would offer him to retaliate in kind against the districts. He could order the troops to bomb them, erase them from the map and the surface of the earth. He could decide of the fate of the very ones who committed the crime to try and kill him, he could set an example of what doom would be brought upon anyone who ever tried to hurt a Snow again… But he wasn’t president, yet.
However, his position as head gamemaker of the Hunger Games gave him quite a unique chance to keep the districts in check and remind them who truly held the power, after all, he had learned all the tricks from Doctor Gaul during the few years he had been working for her. He knew the only way to get his message to the rebels would be to answer in kind and make sure they’d know the fear of potentially loosing someone precious to them too…
A few days later, the doctors cleared you to go home so he decided to go back to his office and put his plan in motion.
As soon as he sat behind his desk, Minerva entered his office, holding a large file against her chest.
“I received the official report of the incident.” She announced, handing him the paper. He flipped the pages, brows furrowed and eyes rapidly darting across each paragraph.
“Twenty four deaths… And counting.” He read out loud.
“And I’m very sorry to tell you that I was informed that Alastair is among the victims.” She told him, which caused him to look at her, gravity etched on his face.
He had the perfect reaction. Not too emotional. Still professional. Believable.
“Do we know what happened to him exactly ?”
“The coroner said he died of asphyxiation from the smoke, like many others unfortunately.”
“It’s unfortunate indeed.” Coriolanus nodded, with a forced frown. “Make sure to send our condolences to his family.”
“Of course, Sir.” His assistant said, taking notes. “Anything else i can do ?”
“Yes… Call the press, I have an important announcement to make.” He stated, still more determined than ever to make everyone involved pay for what they did.
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“And now, a message from Coriolanus Snow, head gamemaker of the Hunger Games and candidate for presidency.” The news anchor announced, as the camera zoomed in on your husband’s tired face, his brow furrowed and severity marking his traits.
“On Friday, people of the Capitol were the target of a terrible attack from an outlawed and violent group of radical people. We’ve lost precious lives and many of our citizens were gravely wounded during the attack.” Coriolanus spoke, solemnly, as the cameras shifted between different point of views of him. His voice was calm despite the rage displayed on his face. “Therefor, in retaliation, as head gamemaker, I have decided to make the 25th edition of the Hunger Games one that will remind everyone of the Capitol’s power… For this first quarter quell, each district will be required to send two boys and two girls into the arena.”
You watched your husband’s press conference on the television in the quiet and lonely living room of the manor, jaw dropping at his announcement. Was he taking advantage of the attack to give a lesson to the district, show his almighty power and advance his presidential campaign by gaining the Capitol’s support ? Or was he seeking out revenge for you ? Your chest tightened at the thought, could he care about you enough to be doing this for you ? Imagining you could be one of the reasons - among a thousand more important ones - for the punishment he decided to impose on the districts made your heart beat faster. With a husband so shy for words, a gesture like this one would speak volumes about how he truly felt.
You reached for the remote with a wince and turned the TV off, plunging the living room in darkness apart from the faint light coming from the crackling fire in the chimney. You stood with another wince, silently cursing at the doctors for sending you home without any meds to manage the pain you still felt so vividly in your body. If you had been a simple citizen, surely they would have kept you there longer, made sure that you were fully healed before letting you leave the private sector of the Capitol’s hospital but since the crowd of reporters, cameras and photographers was increasing with each passing day by the entrance of the hospital, they took the decision to send you home. Officially, it was meant to reassure Panem about the health of their potential future First Lady, show them you were as strong and courageous as your husband. But really, they just wanted to get rid of the public disturbing their other patients‘ peace.
You climbed the stairs leading to your bedroom slowly, and then sat at your vanity with a sigh. The reflection in front of you didn’t do justice to how you really felt. As soon as you had been discharged, a team invaded your room to make you look as flawless as you were always supposed to be, taking care of your hair, your makeup, your clothes, hiding any trace of the attack so that you could walk out, dazzling and smiling for the cameras. And of course you did just that. You managed to answer a few questions shouted at you with elegance and respect , offering sympathy to the ones who had suffered more than you did , smiling as some children handed you flowers and holding your head high just to let the rebels know that it would take more than this to bring Mrs Snow down.
But deep inside, you were a wreck. Images of the attack kept popping in your mind, you could still smell the smoke, feel it filling your lungs, suffocating you. You could still hear the screams, the cries, the shouts and the explosions. You could still feel the sharp pain in your shoulder when the column behind you collapsed and a heavy piece of marble hit you. You still had the bruises and the scratches on your skin from all the debris that flew in your face, even if they currently were hidden under a thick layer of makeup.
You slowly took it all off with a wipe, feeling almost relieved at the sight of the purple mark on your cheek and the other one on your neck, like a validation that you weren’t feeling so bad for nothing. You reached up to untie the sophisticated hairdo your beauty team had insisted on doing, but the sharp pain in your shoulder combined to the stiffness of your neck made it impossible to take more than two pins out before having to bring your arms down and take a deep breath to try and soothe the pain.
You had always considered yourself lucky to have such a big team of talented people to prepare you for every event you had to attend, sometimes they even got you ready and looking your best for simple shopping trips or private dinners if they expected you to be followed by reporters and photographers. But then, once the lights were out, the crowd long gone and the cameras pointed somewhere else, once you were back in the privacy and loneliness of your own home, then there wasn’t anyone to help you take off all this attire and help you be yourself again.
You were about to give up. At the moment, sleeping with twenty pins stabbing your scalp didn’t seem merely as painful as lifting your arm again did. But a movement in your mirror caught your attention. You lifted your eyes to the reflection, noticing a white silhouette, almost glowing in contrast to the darkness of your room, standing by the door, big blue eyes set on you.
You observed him quietly for a moment, unsure if he was really there or if it was yet another trick your mind was playing on you. Because you had a lot of visions of him lately. His face appearing in thick smoke. His voice shouting your name. His arms carrying you out of the chaos. His hand holding yours in the cold hospital room… You weren’t sure which memories were real or not. You couldn’t tell if he really had been by your side at the hospital this whole time or if you had just imagined his presence to reassure yourself. Were you imagining him there again so you wouldn’t feel so desperately lonely ?
“Let me help you with that.” He said, his tone softer than usual. He took the few steps in your direction, stopping behind you. You watched in the mirror as his fingers wandered in your hair in search of pins to take off, letting locks of hair fall down on your shoulders each time he removed one.
His touch was real. The heat you felt coming from his chest and radiating on your back was real. The expression of worry on his face every time he met your gaze in the reflection was real. He was real.
And instead of reassuring you like you thought it would, you suddenly felt invaded in your privacy to have him here, in your bedroom for the very first time. He shouldn’t see you like this, with your makeup off and your hair down, the bruises and the sorrow all too visible on your face. This wasn’t the image of the wife he had asked for. The wife who he wanted to impregnate. It was a pathetic reflection of a wounded and scared girl, wondering if she’ll ever be able to recover from such an horrific incident.
“I didn’t leave the hospital looking like this.” You felt compelled to say to justify how you looked in front of him, uncomfortable at the thought that it was the very first time he’d see you as you really were.
“I know, I watched the news from my office.” He simply said, focusing on finding the few last pins still tugging at your hair.
“And I watched your press conference.”
“What do you think about my idea for the quarter quell ?” His pale eyes found yours, silently gauging your reaction.
“I think a lot of people will love it, it’ll probably gain you many votes for the next round…”
“Probably but I meant what do you think about it ? Will it be a clear enough message to the districts that there will be hell to pay if they ever even think about hurting us again ?” He leaned closer, his breath brushing your ear. “Do you think all of Panem will now know that nobody hurts my wife without meeting the consequences ?”
You left out a breath, shocked by the rage you saw burning in his usually charming eyes. Either he was masterfully manipulative, wanting to make you believe that the decision he took to hold special games in retaliation was to avenge you, while it was, in fact, all about his career first. Either he really had done it for you, and the implications of such a revelation in regards to his true feelings for you were as terrifying to you as the first hypothesis was.
He remained quiet, removing his hands from your hair once he had pulled out the last pin and reached down to the zipper of your dress, slowly pulling it down with his pale eyes fixed to yours in the mirror.
Your breath caught in your throat. Was he trying to help you ? The zipper being in your back, you probably would have struggled to reach it, but the way he was taking care of it, so torturously slow, the tip of his fingers grazing the soft skin he revealed on his path made you question his true motives.
He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on your neck, exactly where your heart started pulsing wildly in reaction. He pulled the fabric of your dress down, until it pooled around your hips. You saw him take a look at your reflection in front of him, the sight of the bruise on your chest and the other one over your clavicle setting his fury ablaze. He balled his fists tightly, as if he was trying to contain himself so you turned around to face him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek.
You didn’t dare consider that the reason for his anger was because he cared about you enough… But the way he relaxed into your touch made you wonder if you should.
He kissed your lips. Softly. Gently. Almost reverently, as if he was taking the full measure of what he could have been deprived of for the rest of his life with a different outcome of the events of that night.
“I will kill them.” He declared, a cold determination in his tone you had never heard from him before. “I’ll kill every single person responsible for this.”
He moved his fingers over the purple bruise on your chest, a featherlight touch that still caused you a sting of pain, to mark his words.
You remembered a quote you had studied in school, it said something like “pain is the only thing that makes us feel alive.” And, since it was written in your book and taught by your professor, you had always considered it to be true… Until now. Now you knew that there wasn’t anything else on earth that could possibly make you feel more alive than Coriolanus Snow and the way he kissed you, touched you and filled you up. And no pain would be able to stop your determination of feeling alive tonight. Maybe his way to cope from the attack was to hunger for violence and blood, but yours was to live.
You leaned towards him and kissed him with more fervor than he did. He returned the kiss but kept some restraint from the usually hungry and rough way you were used to having him.
“Don’t tempt me.” He groaned, against your lips. “Not when you’re hurt and still recovering.”
“I’m not made of sugar.” You assured him, with a soft smile but he didn’t return it, moving away to look at you like he had seen a ghost. Did he have flashbacks of the attack too ? Or something else ? He’d probably never tell you anyway, because he shook it off before you could open your mouth and ask him if he was alright, worry leaving its place to resolve on his face.
He walked to your bed, stopping at the edge and scanning your nightstand carefully as he slowly started unbuttoning his shirt. Then, he looked around, his eyes taking a moment to consider each object, each piece of decoration in your bedroom. It was the first time he entered it and although the way he threw his shirt on the floor and began unfastening his belt suggested he had other plans than simply asking you for a tour, he still took in most of the details of the only place where you could find privacy in your own home.
You stood up, removing your dress too and feeling suddenly very exposed to him. Your room, your face without makeup, your hair undone, your bruised skin, everything you usually kept hidden from your husband was now on display for him to see and you felt self conscious about it.
“Lie down.” Coriolanus demanded, kicking his pants off, leaving him with nothing on but his bare body for you to stare at, his skin almost as white as the suits he liked to wear.
You obeyed, climbing on the bed from the opposite side from where he stood. You let your head fall down on your fluffy pillow, breathing a sigh of relief as you noticed how the many aches in your body were appeased by the comfortable mattress under you.
He climbed on the bed next to you and it felt somewhat strange to see him there, in your room, on your sheets, naked. He hooked his fingers under the elastic of your underwear and gently pulled them down your legs, the lace fabric sending shiver down your spine on its way down your body.
He spread your legs open for him, and placed himself between them, sitting back on his knees. He looked at your bruises again so, instinctively, you tried to hide them with your arms and hands in fear that he might change his mind and leave you wanting. Thankfully, he had mercy for you and, even though he didnt seem quite sure about how to proceed this time - as if he was worried that he wouldn’t be able to tame his usual roughness - he slowly stroked the tip of his cock between your folds.
He guided it in circles, teasing your entrance every once in a while, pressing over your bud, spreading your growing wetness all over in its wake and you noticed how it made him harden too, his cock increasing in length and girth in his hand with each movement.
It didn’t take long for either of you to be ready for more. After all, it had been a whole week during which the only physical contacts you had shared was him holding your hand at the hospital or placing a chaste kiss on your forehead each time he had to leave you for a while, and that was if you hadn’t dreamed or imagined it.
No longer able to tease you, he ended up pushing his erected member inside you, finding its way in so easily it felt like you were made to fit him by now. He noticed it too, how easy it was for him to bury himself all the way in you until his balls were squeezed between your bodies and he sighed with contempt as your warm and wet pussy engulfed him fully.
You said his name in a panted breath, loving the way he filled you up with his hard cock and his eyes darted to yours, his gaze shining with lust. He moved, starting with short slides back and forth to make sure you could take it then, once he saw you close your eyes and bite your lip to conceal a moan, he got a bit rougher and faster, shoving himself back in with enough force to make the bed crack loudly.
“Yes!” You cried, as you felt his dick repeatedly hit the perfect spot so deep inside you, sending such pleasure through your entire body that you already felt close to coming undone. If there was any pain in your bruised body, you didn’t feel it anymore. All your mind could focus on was the intensity of his thrusts inside of you and the ecstasy building in your core in reaction.
He moved to hover over you, the change of angle making his strong movements even more intense. A moan fell from your lips but he silenced it with a hungry kiss, his taut chest pressing against yours.
He gathered you in his arms, holding your body tightly against his as he kept relentlessly thrusting inside you, swallowing all the moans that escaped from your lips with his desperate kisses.
You closed your legs around his hips, holding on to him as tightly as he was holding on to you. His thrusts lost their speed and intensity, but he still hit exactly where you needed him, making you whimper and moan with pleasure. His grip tightened and so did yours, both of you determined to never let each other go, him holding you like you might vanish at any moment and you holding him like your life depended on it.
He groaned, spilling his seed inside you with one powerful push. You dug your nails in his back, as his movements slowed down and your body contracted, your mind swimming in bliss.
He was panting, from his efforts and from the feverish kisses he kept giving you through it all. And yet he captured your lips with his again, in a much softer - almost loving - kiss. Then he set you free from his embrace, rolling on his side next to you and you istantly felt cold without the weight and warmth of his body on top of yours.
You shivered and he noticed, pulling the sheet over your numb body. You looked at him, wondering if he’ll stay the night. It would be the very first time you’d get to sleep with your husband. If the idea would have been dreadful to you just a year ago, now you wanted nothing more than to press your spent body against his and feel his presence as you drift off to sleep, knowing that you are safe with him by your side.
♡ - (( Tip Jar )) - ♡
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christhopersturniolo · 1 year ago
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୨ HOCKEY PROBLEMS ୧
summary: you have been having some problems in your relationship with Chris, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t loves you.
notes: this is my first time writing a fanfic, I've always wanted to create one since 2020. english isn't my first language, it's probably not very detailed and there might be some mistakes, so don't expect too much lol. but give me feedback tho, l'd love to know what you think!
warnings: sexual assault, cussing, fluff, about three thousand words I think.
୨୧
My relationship with my boyfriend Chris is not the best. Well, at least, not now.
Lately we’ve been arguing all day long over stupid things, like who gets the last slice of pizza, or who gets the last word in a discussion. And it always ends in the same way. Silent treatment, from both sides. But it's not like Chris or I enjoy it. Most nights, I hear him in the bathroom, where he spend hours in tears. It’s horrible and makes me feel like a piece of shit. Hearing him cry only adds to my own feelings of guilt.
And how do we make things up? Sex, over and over. He would fuck the attitude out of me if he had to.
Me and Chris made a pinky promise that I would never miss any of his Hockey games. And I never did, cause i know how much my presence is important to him. And especially cause we are always in good terms the days before any of his games, but not today, we just argued again about nothing, we haven't talked for the past two days.
Nick and Matt, Chris's brothers, usually text me and offer to pick me up for Chris's games, but this time, their texts never came. It’s like they knew how our relationship was going. Chris definitely told them something.
Now you see myself driving to the arena where he plays in, the game is about to start in 20 minutes, and with this traffic, I don’t know if I will be there in time.
Red sign for the past 5 minutes. I have cars in front of me, behind me and next to me. Fuck. I start getting anxious. My nerves are on edge. I bit my nails subconsciously, the habit I got from my dad. My leg starts shaking. I can’t mess up things even more, I gotta be there, I have to be there.
After what feels like an eternity stuck in traffic, the car in front of me finally starts moving. I let out a sigh of relief as I find a parking spot. After that, I enter the venue where Chris plays (Which wasn’t that big, cause he plays in a small team in our city.)
Before taking a seat I scan the crowd anxiously, searching for any familiar faces, no one, I can’t find anyone, not even his two brothers. “Fuck it” I mumble to myself and I just get in a seat with some random people next to me.
The game is about to start, the crowd is already cheering. The players are drinking water and getting ready to get in the rink. My eyes examine each one of them, looking for Chris, number three. He was with a serious face. ‘Are he’s eyes red?’ I think to myself as I narrow my eyes, my vision is bad as shit, but I can tell he’s eyes are all puffy. He has some big dark circles underneath his pretty blue eyes, he looks fucking exhausted, It was evident that he was crying just now.
The players finally begin to take to the ice, their skates gliding across the surface as they prepare for the game to begin.
On Chris's team, there are six talented players, used to winning every single game. However, this time, they were against a really good team. Chris hated that team. I hated that team. Well, not really the team, but one of the players: Cam, Cameron.
Cam is a completely fucking jerk, in college he would always try to hit on me, but I’ve never really went with his face, what would get on his nerves, especially when I started dating Chris. It went to the point where he would force me to have intimate things with him. He was the worst human alive, and I would do anything to see him dead.
FLASHBACK
I just had PE, finding myself alone in the girls locker room as I change clothes. The sound of the front door opening echoed, followed by quiet footsteps creeping up behind me, sending shivers down my spine. I try to ignore it.
As I slipped my shirt back on, I felt two hands grip the sides of my hips, and a warm breath brushed against my neck. I freeze for two seconds. I know this is not Chris. Without thinking, I instinctively push the hands away and I turn around quickly, only to come face to face with Cameron.
I glare at him, my heart racing with a mix of fear and anger. His smirk widens as he takes a step closer, invading my personal space. "What's the rush, sweetheart?" He whispers, his voice dripping with arrogance.
I take a step back feeling the wall behind me getting closer "What are you even doing here? Get the fuck away from me, Cameron" I say firmly, trying to sound like i’m not scared, but the reality is that I’m pissing my pants.
He chuckles like he’s making fun of me, his eyes glinting with malice. "Or what? You'll tell your precious boyfriend Chris?" He teases, moving closer until I can feel his breath on my face. grabbing my waist and pinning them against the wall. "Come on, babe, you know you want it as much as I do.." he affirms, leaning in to kiss me, touching his lips on mines.
“Get the fuck away!” I whisper yell as i try to punch him away but he grabs my wrists. I struggle against his hold, but his grip tightens, his fingers digging into my skin, definitely leaving red marks.
I don’t know what to do. I can’t move. I start panicking. This is my end.
Tears blur my vision as I plead "Cameron, stop!" My voice trembles with fear as he kisses me, his lips rough and demanding against mine. Each kiss is a painful reminder of my vulnerability. Each kiss feels like a violation. I feel dirty, tainted by his touch everywhere in my body. A wave of nausea churns in the pit of my stomach as I try to move him away from me.
"Stop fucking fighting, you are not getting away from me" He murmurs against my lips "You deserve this, you want this.” I try to move as he keeps pinning me "You think I don’t see the eyes you give me when I walk by? Huh slut?" He scoffs, his hot breath against my face. "You were begging for this."
“I wasn’t begging for any of this. I never gave him any ‘eyes,’ he’s fucking delusional!” I think to myself, but my words remain trapped in my throat, suffocated.
As his lips travel down to my neck, leaving a trail of unwanted kisses, I can’t do anything more than start crying and screaming, kicking my legs and arms.
I never went back to those lockers again.
END OF THE FLASHBACK
I hated him so fucking much, and Chris did even more. And now, they are about to compete against each other.
The moment Chris stepped onto the rink, I could see his eyes looking for someone known on the crowd. Desperately, I raised my hand and waved, hoping he would spot me. And he did. His face automatically softened into a gentle smile, erasing some of the tension that had been weighing on me, but he was still with his tired eyes.
The game started with an intensity that matched the tension in the air. Both teams were determined to win. Cameron eyes were burning with rage. At this point, they weren’t competing as a team, it wasn’t about the game, it was about their personal life.
As the game progressed, the rivalry between them two escalated. They began to argue on the ice, each vying for control of the puck with increasing aggression.
Chris managing to gain possession of the puck and score two goals in less than five minutes. But Cam, folded by his own anger, refused to back down. Without thinking he charged towards him at full speed. Cameron swung his stick, causing Chris to trip and fall hard onto the ice.
“What the fuck is he doing?” I say out loud as I get up from my seat to get a better view. Chris remained on the ground for what felt like an eternity, clearly in pain. Every player on the ice stopped and looked around confused without knowing what to do, but not Cameron. He keeps going with the puck in direction to make a goal, with a visible smile on his lips. But then he notices how everyone really stopped and he slows down too, annoyed, not showing any regret.
The thing is, my boyfriend is in a fetal position on the ice, unable to move and no one is doing anything about it? That’s not happening, not with Chris. Without a second thought, I get up from my seat, whispering apologies to those I brushed past as I made my way to the rink. Ignoring the stares and comments from the crowd, I stepped onto the ice, my focus solely on reaching Chris. I get in the rink. I don’t give a shit about who’s watching me.
Kneeling beside Chris. His nose was bleeding, he looked pale and disoriented. Gently, I placed a hand on his shoulder, my voice trembling with concern. "Chris" I whisper, my voice shaking "Are you okay? Please look at me..” I beg in a desperate tone
Chris struggled to respond, his voice barely above a whisper as he fought through the pain "Y-Yeah.. I’m fine.." His eyes half-closed in discomfort.
Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps drew my attention, and I glanced up to see some of the players from both teams getting around us, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern. Sensing the seriousness of the situation, a few of them hurried off to get help, while others stood by, unsure of what to do.
“Is he okay?” One of Chris's teammates asked as he knelt beside me, his voice filled with worry.
My anxiety spiked at the sight of Chris's condition, and I couldn't help but let my frustration show. "No, he’s not!" I replied, my voice unintentionally louder than intended. "Don’t you guys have nurses or some kind of medical staff here?!"
The teammate glanced back at me, his expression uncertain. "Yeah, I’m pretty sure they're on their way, don’t worry, he will be fine” He said sounding unsure.
I gently place Chris head on my lap, whispering sweet and calming words on his ear while we wait for someone help us. What I was saying was comforting me more than Chris.
Finally the arena's medical staff arrived, urging us to clear the area around Chris. They place him on a stretcher and wheeling him out of the rink. As they took Chris away, I followed closely behind them, my steps quickening to keep pace with their hurried movements. "Hey, excuse me," I called out to one of the workers, my voice tinged with desperation "Is it okay if I stay with him?" But they seemed way too focused on their task, ignoring me completely as they rushed Chris to a small emergency room they had here, leaving me behind on the hallway, my heart pounded with worry and frustration. But before I could even process what was happening, a familiar voice cut through the silence. I turn around,
Cameron.
"Look who it is" He says, his gaze fixated on me with an unsettling intensity. "Never thought I'd see you here, playing the concerned girlfriend” He chuckles.
My blood boiled at his words, the memories of his unwanted advances and aggressive behavior flooding back with nauseating clarity. "You're sick, Cameron." My voice trembling with rage “You can’t even stand losing a fucking game, you are insane.” I stay some seconds in silence before talking again "You better stay the hell away from me and Chris."
Cameron's smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he reveled in my discomfort. "Or what?" He teases, taking a step closer "You gonna hit me? Huh?” He talks in a mocking way
I raised my hand and delivered a good slap on his left cheek, the sound echoing through the empty hallway. "I fucking hate you!" I yell, my voice trembling with rage as I glared at him with undisguised contempt.
Before Cameron could react, the sound of approaching footsteps coming in our attention, and I glanced up to see some of Chris's teammates rushing towards us, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion.
"What's going on here?" The same blonde guy with a four in his shirt asks, his voice tinged with urgency as he eyed Cameron with suspicion.
"Nothing," he muttered, attempting to regain his composure, "I was just.. checking on Chris. But the workers said we have to wait, and unfortunately, I've got somewhere else to be." Cameron lies, fuck he’s good at lying.
He gets closer to me, placing his hand on my shoulder, rubbing it gently. “I hope he gets better” He said in a fake nice tone, like he means it, I move his hand away from me, making him get slightly angry again, he leaves. I watch him go, feeling a sense of relief wash over me knowing that he was finally out of here.
Turning back to Chris's teammate, I say “Anyways..” I take a deep breath “I will just wait here until they say something”
The blonde one nods understanding. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan to me” He replies, his voice filled with sympathy “So, the game was canceled, and we got shit to do, so we can’t really wait here”
“Yeah sure, no problem, I understand” I respond, I try to sound so nice as he is sounding “I'll make sure Chris texts you guys after he leaves the room.”
Chris's teammate nodded appreciatively and they all began to leave to the same direction as Cameron. I sit into a chair next to the door where Chris was, my mind racing thinking about Chris.
Some good ten minutes after, one of the workers is leaving the room, I look up at him, catching his attention. “Excuse me,” I begin, my voice laced with anticipation “can I see Chris?”
He nods, offering a small smile. “Of course, go ahead” He replies kindly before disappearing down the hallway.
Before I enter the room, I take a few deep breaths to control my anxiety. Knocking gently on the door, I slowly open it. He was sitting in a long bench with elastic bandage on his ankle and wrist. Chris's eyes light up at the moment he sees me and a warm smile spreads across his face.
“Shit Chris, I just slapped Cameron in the face!” I say as I close the door behind me. Chris immediately starts laughing. his laugh is contagious. I sit down next to him. “You did not” He keeps laughing
“What’s so funny? I’m being serious” I chuckle, feeling the tension ease from my mind as Chris's laughter fills the room.
"I'm sorry, babe" he says between laughs "But when was that?”
“Literally like fifteen minutes ago! Gosh he’s so fucking annoying! And did you see the way he literally made you fall on purpose? I could break his face right now” I say in a dramatic tone, making him laugh even more.
“Anyways he doesn’t matter..” I look around thinking about what to say “So what did the nurses say?”
Chris's laughter subsides as he leans back against the bench, his expression growing more serious “Nothing much.. I just sprained my foot and my wrist, but nothing much”
“Nothing much?!” I say slightly shocked with his words.
Chris chuckles softly, shaking his head at my reaction. "Okay, maybe it's a bit more than 'nothing much,' but I'll survive" He says with a reassuring smile, though I can see the pain behind his eyes.
I gently reach his injured hand, my thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of his hand. "I'm just glad it's nothing too serious," I say softly, my voice filled with genuine concern. "But still, I can't believe Cameron did that to you! He's such a pussy!" My last sentence makes Chris laugh again.
As I watch him, a sense of relief washes over me, knowing that despite everything, we are still able to find humor in the situation.
Some minutes talking until the silence fills back the room. We are definitely both thinking about the argument we had days ago, cause we didn’t talked since.
“I.. I wasn’t expecting for you to watch the game today” Chris says slightly looking down.
I stay in silence for some seconds “Listen, Chris" I begin, my voice soft but determined "About the arguments we've been having lately.. I know things haven't been the best.. But..” I sigh “But I still care about you, and I always will.”
Chris looks up at me, his eyes softening with emotion as he listens to my words. "I care about you too" He says, his voice filled with sincerity. "I hate that we've been arguing so much, especially over stupid shit.. I just.. I don't want to lose you.”
A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I reach out to gently cup his cheek. "You're not going to lose me, Chris." I assure him. My thumb brushing over his skin affectionately.
He gently buries his face on the crook of my neck, I lay my chin on the top of his head, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him close.
"I'm sorry for everything," Chris murmurs against my skin. "I don't want us to keep fighting like this."
Now I run my fingers through his hair, feeling a sense of peace settle over us. "I'm sorry too.." My voice sounding like a whisper. "Let's try to work through this together, okay?" He nods softly.
I kiss his head “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He answers quietly.
୨୧
hey, this is the end! i hope you have enjoyed it, if u saw any miss spelling or anything tell me in the comments, please.
also, i think it got kinda confusing cause i was using words on the past and in the present, but idk 😭😭
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tricktster · 2 months ago
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ugh i hate that it would truly be a big mistake for me to post anything material about my job on here because it could theoretically come back to bite me. You know, conservative industry, close scrutiny, clients probably unimpressed by the fact that the person they are entrusting millions of dollars to (me) has an online presence at all chiefly because she wrote an E rated 425,000 word undertale fanfic (also me).
Given the foregoing, please don’t speculate or guess at what my job might be because god forbid you get it right and it somehow pops up in a search engine in a way that’s identifiable and i lose my clients and all this grad school debt is for nothing, that would be quite bad and i would like to avoid it tyty. Anyway.
All this to say that I witnessed one of the single funniest things I’ve ever seen yesterday, and summarizing it as “Extremely important person unexpectedly projectile vomited into the open arms of a different extremely important person (neither of whom had met each other before this incident) in the most formal setting imaginable, and they both sprinted out of the room and were never seen again, and this nearly caused a chain reaction of all the other very important people puking on each other, but after about a three minute break to clean up everyone else just resumed like nothing happened except the very important person sitting between the puker and pukee had to cover their entire face with their winter jacket… and then the power went out” really doesn’t do it justice.
It was so gross. I am still laughing.
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confused-bi-queer · 2 months ago
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¿Quién quiere rosca?
¡Feliz Día de los Reyes Magos! A Mexican Tradition with its Mexican fanfic
Hello, friends. I am once again back with my Mexican SnowBaz.
During December, I noticed I could draw and I realized I could make Mexican prompts, so that’s what I’m doing.
Today is January 6th, and here in Mexico, we celebrate something that's kind of the equivalent of Christmas morning for some people, but it depends on the region of the country. For example, most of us don’t believe in Santa Claus (only the north does, like Monterrey which is in the border with US, next to Texas; I don’t know about the rest), but we do believe in “the Three Kings” or “the Magi”, which are entirely from Catholic/Christian lore. Jesus was born during Christmas, so after 12 days, the Three Kings come to give him gifts, so we Mexicans get those gifts today. You’re allowed to ask for 3 gifts (one per king) and we give the letter through a ballon we throw into the sky on the night of January 5th. Kids (and myself as well) are receiving their presents today.
Alongside that tradition, we have something called “la rosca de reyes”, or king’s bread or king’s wreath. It’s an oval orange bread with ate (quince jelly), fig, cherry and sugary bread. We cut this bread with our family and, inside the bread there are a few figurines of baby Jesus (nowadays, people put more things into the rosca, like the Kings or tamales), so if you cut your piece and you get the “niño” (child, baby, kid, whatever), on February 2nd, el día de la Calendaria, you’re in charge of making the tamales. Allegedly. And yesterday I learned why there are babies Jesus in the rosca: it’s a reference of how they had to hide Jesus so he wouldn’t get killed by Herodes. Insane.
This is one of my favorite festivities because it entails so many little traditions and because it’s very Mexican. And I wanted SnowBaz to have this memory because it’s something sweet. I wanted them to enjoy my culture, and I like sharing it.
I wrote something for the art I’ve made, and you can find it here down here:
BAZ
There is nothing that could make being awakened by yelling and the bed jumping a good thing. My eyes are heavy as I try to get them to open, but thankfully there is no light outside.
It’s not even morning yet.
I turn to Simon and hide myself on his neck, searching for his warmth, and shaking him awake.
“Your son is up,” I mumble, closing my eyes, relishing in Simon’s soft body.
“My son?”
“Wake up!” Ángel yells, too loudly for any kind of ears.
“Those early-riser-genes aren’t mine,” I groan.
Ángel lays down on top of both of us, his arms around our heads, and we decide to get up. Much against our wishes.
Simon sits down, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and Ángel grabs him by the shoulders, shaking him awake.
“The Kings came!” he yells, his smile as bright as his dad’s.
I smile as I get off the bed, putting on my dark blue slippers. I grab the closest robe, and as I wrap it around me, I notice it’s Simon’s. I turn back to find him putting my football Watford hoodie over his head, his wings guarded into it.
“I’m going down alone if you don’t hurry!” Ángel yells again, and he grabs Simon’s tail. “Dad!”
“We’re up, we’re up,” Simon says, standing up, letting Ángel pull him out of our bedroom.
As soon as Ángel’s out the door, he rushes to the stairs but doesn’t go downstairs. He smiles at us, jumping in his place.
“Hurry!”
Simon and I walk faster, climbing down the stairs, full of 3 gigantic framed pictures of our wedding, and a smaller one of Ángel’s newborn face with six different expressions in it. I like the one where he’s looking to the side; Simon and I were being silly to make him laugh for the photos.
When we reach the bottom of the stairs, Ángel yells.
“Look, papá, it’s a sword! Like dad’s!” he screams, throwing himself to the floor.
He grabs the long, thin box with a plastic toy with the figure of a sword.
I turn to Simon, fake-smiling.
“The Magi brought our seven-year-old a sword,” I say through gritted teeth.
Simon smiles without taking his eyes off our kid, desacrating the box of the toy.
“Ángel asked for it,” he mumbles.
“Maybe Melchor should have asked Gaspar and Baltazar about it beforehand.”
Ángel jumps up and starts looking for scissors to get the sword off its container.
“Balthazar couldn’t have brought it to him,” Simon says. “He was too far away in the East.”
“Balthazar brought another gift. The kid has four.”
Simon looks at me then, eyes wide open in fear.
“What?”
It’s at that moment that Ángel notices it as well.
“The Magi brought me four gifts! That’s so cool!”
I force a smile as our kid looks up from his sitting position on the floor, a sword large enough to resemble Simon’s.
“Does this mean I’m getting four gifts every year?” he asks, eyes lit up with excitement.
Simon and I sit down slowly on the floor, next to Ángel.
“Maybe this year you behaved extra well,” Simon says. “We’ll see what they think next year, okay?”
“I’ll be super, extra, mega good!”
Simon kisses Ángel’s forehead.
“I’m sure you will.”
Maybe a kid with a plastic toy can make this day better.
SIMON
While Ángel’s showing Baz everything the Magi gave him this morning (I can hear everything from the kitchen since he's loud), I pull out the lid of the rosca for us three to be able to eat some for breakfast.
I’ll make some coffee for Baz and then I’ll give Ángel milk, and we’ll see who gets the baby. It’s not a rule for us to prepare tamales, but we do have some on February 2nd.
“Alright,” I call out. “¿Quién quiere rosca?”
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sunshine7queen · 1 year ago
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The Halloween Party
Synopsis: Halloween has arrived where everybody can dress up as their favorite creature and characters. And today you struggled on thinking what costume to wear this year. With the help of your friends, you finally thought of one that will knock everyone out: to dress as the King of Curses himself. What will his reaction would be?
Pairing: Yuji/Sukuna x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2.1k
Content Warnings: 18+, full nelson, smut, breeding kink, Sukuna calls her Mistress, rough sex, reader being a dom queen, creampie, soft Sukuna in the end, a bonus ending included!
A/N: Hello everyone! This is the first time I've posted something like fanfic related but this idea has been stuck to my head in the holiday has started. I hope you all enjoy this ^v^ Also, sorry if the smut's not too perfect, it's been a while.
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Today was Halloween, the one year where everyone celebrates the spooky holiday by dressing up in costumes and giving out candy.
Speaking of costumes, you were having trouble thinking what to dress as. And the reason is that because Gojo decided to plan out a Halloween party at Jujutsu Tech and of course, he even added a contest for the best Halloween costume.
Every year, you always come up with the scariest costumes that blow everyone away and even scare them too. So right now, you’re hanging out with Nobara and Maki at the mall in the search for costumes. Perhaps this will help you out for inspiration for your costume.
“Any luck?” Nobara asks you, wondering if anything sparks an idea in your head.
You looked around at the outfits, masks, and wigs but nothing catches your attention. You shake your head, “Nope.”
“Well, there has to be something for you.”
Maki then decides to pitch in to help you, “Have you ever thought about dressing as a vampire?”  
“I’ve already done that last year, don’t get me wrong, I love my vampire costume but I want to do something different.”
“Okay then, how about a witch?”
“No, I’ve done that too. And also, that’s what Nobara is dressing for the party.”
“It’s okay girl! We can both match but it’s your decision and I respect that.”
“Thanks Nobara.” You sigh; thinking what to dress as is making you feel exhausted and your friends took notice of this.
“Hey how about we take a break?” Maki suggests, “Let’s get something to eat and we can go look again before the party starts.”
“Sure. We can use a break, my head’s wiped out.” You laugh as they join in as you three make your way to the food court.
Taking a break was a good idea after all as you sip your favorite beverage. “Alright, we still have time but we can talk ideas here in the meantime.”
“Well,” You lean your head back, “I want my costume to be scary this year, something that will scare their pants off.”
Nobara hums as she thinks of an idea. “Something scary huh? I think it would have to be that’ll top off a werewolf, vampire, ghoul or zombie.”
“What could be frightening than them?” Maki asks.
She's got a point there; what could be more frighting and scarier than the classic monsters or legends?
It was at that moment when a smile crept on your face.
Nobara begins to chuckle, every time you make that look; an idea strikes in your head. “Oh! I recognize that look anywhere! What’s your big idea?”
You let out a dark chuckle through your lips, Nobara and Maki weren’t too sure if they should be scared or not by your behavior. Motioning your hands at them to lean closer, they scoot their seats next to you. “Listen, here. This is my idea…”
Whispering to them about your idea, the girls started to grin as you explain your costume idea. They have a feeling that this costume will definitely knock everyone’s socks out.
The three of you returned back to Jujutsu Tech, you told Nobara and Maki to get ready for their costumes so they can help you with yours. Five minutes later, Nobara and Maki came into your dorm. Nobara had on a cute witch outfit with a stuffed black cat in her right arm and holding a broom to her left. As for Maki, she’s a vampire with her hair down, slicking her front bangs back to make it more classic.
“Wow! You guys look amazing!” You gush over their costumes.
Nobara blushes at your compliment, “Aw thank you! Now, let’s get you ready for yours!”
“Let’s do it!” You cheered.
Hours later, it was finally finished. Nobara and Maki couldn’t help but stare at you in awe.
“So ladies, what do you think?” You curl your fingers, twirling them around your wig.
“Wow, I…” Nobara looks at you up and down. “I’m literally taken back right now. You look like a literal queen.”
“I usually don’t compliment that much, but you got my exception.” Maki smirks, showing her fake vampire fangs.
“Shall we get started?”
Meanwhile, outside of the courtyard, the entire place was decorated with lights in a form of pumpkins and ghosts, cutout paper of mini ghosts, a table filled with delicious food and sweet treats, and plenty of games to enjoy.
Everyone else is here, even the students of the Kyoto Sister school are here as well. Yuji is with his friend Megumi, along with Toge and Panda. Yuji decided to be Spiderman, he got his mask off right before the contest starts. Megumi didn’t want to dress up but was forced by Gojo who he eventually put him as a werewolf.
“I think you look great, Fushiguro!” Yuji gave him a thumbs up with a smile on his face.
Megumi’s brow twitches, he wasn’t enjoying this as much. “You know sensei had me wear this.” He crossed his arms.
“Yeah but, you gotta get into the spirit for this party. They’re already in the vibe of it.” He points at Toge and Panda. Apparently, Toge is dressed as Joker from Persona 5 for some reason but Panda told them that he got into it and wanted to try out.
For Panda, he wanted to go as a teddy bear but couldn’t find a suitable outfit in time, so instead he put a bear hat with ears along with a red ribbon tied around his neck.
“Hey, how’s everyone enjoying the party?” Gojo walks up to them, he’s dressed as Jack Frost with a blue hoodie with white linings to make them look like ice, brown pants and white shoes. He even brought a staff to match up.  
“I’m having a great time and you look fantastic, sensei!” Yuji replied.
Gojo smugly smirks as he chuckles, “I always look good in everything.”
“You look like a clown that’s what.” Gojo stares at the eye and mouth that appeared on Yuji’s cheek. Sukuna never understands the meaning of the holiday at all, he thinks that it’s lame to see everyone wearing abnormal outfits.
“At least I’m not stuck in a body as a vessel. Got anything to say to that?” He tilts his head as he still smirks. Sukuna grunts in frustration, but before he could make a comeback at Gojo, his mouth gapes with no words coming out.
“What is it? Cat got your tongue?” Gojo waited for a response but there was nothing but silence. “What’s the matter with him?”
Yuji was about to reply but he looks over his sensei’s shoulder as he got the same reaction as Sukuna.
“Yuji, you too?” Gojo turns around to see what was making his student to be baffled, and as soon as he turns his back around, he starts to chuckle. “Well, I’ll be damned, so that’s why.”  
You enter the courtyard with your friends by your side. You got on a white kimono with a blue obi tied around your waist. Tattoos painted on your face to make it look like his, you even added the extra eyes as well. As for the finishing touch, you put a long pink wig you previously wore from one of your cosplays and red eye contacts to match the entire look.
Smirking at them, revealing your fangs. “Hello, brats.”
Everyone stares at you either in fear or in awe. You head towards Yuji, who’s blushing on how beautiful you look, even though you’re dressed as the guy who bullies him everyday, you really pulled it off.
You drag your press-on black nail, gently on his cheek where Sukuna is. “Shocked, my king? You look speechless.” Tracing his lips with your thumb; he felt shivers crawling up his back. His eye explore everywhere on your body, you got every single one of his markings correct.
You softly chuckled at his reaction, this is the one you were looking forward to. “Until then, see you later, tiger.” You kiss his lips as you let go. He quickly reverts back to his domain, leaving him a blushing mess.
“Are you all surprised?” They all nod their heads, never in their lives they would’ve seen you to be dressed as the King of Curses.
“Why yes, your Highness.” Gojo bows to you. Now he knows who will be the true winner of the contest. “And how about we leave these two lovebirds alone.” Gojo leads everyone so they can enjoy the rest of the evening while you and Yuji can have alone time.
“I was not expecting this at all.” He rubs the back of his head, giving you a closed eye smile.
“I bet and I’m taking a guess that he wasn’t expecting this either.” You nod your head right at the scar under his eye.
“Yeah, none of us did either. You look really gorgeous.” He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your body closer, having your hands travel up to his chest.
You blush, “Thank you and I think you look really handsome, my hero.” You cup his cheek, leaning into his face, giving him a kiss as he kisses back.
And with that, you won the contest with your costume and as to celebrate this moment, you and Yuji dragged each other to your dorm where he’s sitting on a chair, holding your waist as you ride on his cock.
You made him remove his Spiderman suit, only showing off his firm muscles. You rode him as if your life depended on it. “Baby, I- I think he wants to be out now!” He stammers, continuing his thrusts in your drenched pussy.
You moan softly at his cock hitting every spot. “It’s okay, my love. You can let him out.” He shuts his eyes as tattoos begin to form on his body. And the scars under his eyes, have opened to reveal his ruby eyes.
“What inspired you to dress as me, darling?”
“Well, I had to think which costume to go as and what would be a better idea than to dress as one of the most feared being of the Heian Era?”
Sukuna couldn’t help but smile, he felt his heart beat through his tatted chest. “This is why I fallen in love with you.” He grabs the shoulders of your kimono, pulling it down slowly, revealing your bare breasts. “No bra? Were you waiting for little old me to see this?”
“And what if I did?” You press your breasts on his pecs. Both of you are feeling turned on right now with this sexual atmosphere. He wanted to claim you so badly to ram his cock and fill you with his seed, making you his forever.
“What are you waiting for?” You snap him out of his thoughts, dragging your nails down on his muscles. “Do you want to please your Mistress?” You nip his ear lobe then giving it a lick.
Whatever it is you’re doing, is really making him feral and having his cock inside you, throbbing erratically. Letting out a feral growl, he got up from his seat, holding you in his arms to have your legs wrap around his waist, pressed you against the wall as he gave you harsh thrusts. Moans escaped from your lips, hands gripping on his chiseled back. “Do you love this, Mistress?” He grits his teeth.
“Very much! Don’t stop pleasing your Queen!” The sounds of skin clapping and moans echoing across the dorm. He looks down where a white ring is coated around his cock, he throws his head back, grunting and stares at you again with hazy eyes. “Fuck! Me and our brat are enjoying seeing you in pleasure. Telling me how you look like a goddess and he’s right.” Sweat drips from his forehead to his muscles, glistening by the light of the moon. “I love you two so much.” You cry out, tears run down your face. “We both love you two.” Finally, you both reach to each other’s climax, as he seals your lips with his, drowning every moan and caressing your thighs.
He pulls you away from the wall, slowly removing his cock from your pussy, his cum leaks out as he pushes his seed back into you with his fingers. Sukuna carries you to your bed and pulls down the covers. He gently puts you down as he joins you. He wraps your waist with his arm, dragging his body to you.
“Are you hurt?” Sure he may be rough during sex but he does get carried away at times and doesn’t like seeing you in pain.
“Not at all.” You snuggle closer, staring him with loving eyes.
“You’ve made your Mistress very happy.”
“That I did, my Queen.” He purred.
You two kiss each other again as sleep took over your bodies, cuddling each other’s arms.
Bonus:
The day after, Yuji woke up with markings and bite marks on his body and sees you cuddling him in his arms. He then decides not to wake you up and enjoy the moment with his girl.
A/N: I hope you all enjoy the story! ^v^ Don't forget to comment, reblog and like! <3<3<3
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superlunar-eclipse · 1 year ago
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🌑 ੈ✩‧₊˚ ━━━━━ ACROSS THE COUNTRY
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SUMMARY ➤ Dean and Sam, concerned about their missing father, approach their estranged elder sister Y/N, an FBI agent, for help. Despite initial resistance due to past grievances and her current job, Y/N eventually agrees to join them in their search, setting the stage for a journey filled with potential challenges and dangers.
WARNINGS ➤ injury’s, injured Y/N, stabbed wound (to the shoulder), small shard of glass on Y/N’s face and the back of their head, and slight arguing.
CHARACTERS ➤ Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Y/N Winchester, mentions of John Winchester, and Adam William (added character)
WORD COUNT ➤ 1,180 words
OTHER ➤ Y/N is a FBI agent, small mention of Y/N being 32 years old, set in season 1, episode 1.
AUTHOR’S NOTE ➤ first fanfic! hopefully dean and sam don’t act too OOC, but lmk if they do!
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"Dad hasn't been home in a few days."
Sam took a deep breath before responding, "So, he's working one of his usual overtime shifts on a 'Miller Time'. It's nothing to worry about. He's bound to stumble back in sooner or later."
Dean glanced down at the cold, hard ground, allowing his eyes to linger there for a moment before looking back up at Sam. His voice was full of concern as he said, "Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days."
Sam’s expression remained stoic, giving away nothing of the worry that was slowly starting to creep in. Jess, who had been quietly observing the exchange, glanced up at him.
"Jess, excuse us. We have to go outside."
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"I mean, come on. You can't just break into my place in the middle of the night, and expect me to hit the road with you," Sam said, his voice echoing in the silence of the night as he followed Dean down the stairs.
"You're not hearing me, Sammy. Dad's missing. I'm not just asking you to hit the road with me. I need you to help me find him." He looked back at Sam, his eyes pleading for understanding.
"I- I don’t understand, why couldn’t you have called Y/N? Isn’t she an FBI agent or something like that?" Sam questioned, his hand reaching out to grab Dean’s shoulder in an attempt to halt his progress.
Dean sighed loudly, a sound that echoed throughout the quiet night. He bounced on the balls of his feet, a nervous habit he had whenever he was troubled. "Well I… kinda don’t know where she is…" he admitted shamefully.
Sam’s eyebrows furrowed, a clear sign of his confusion. "What do you mean you ‘don’t know where she is’?"
Dean pursed his lips and rubbed his hands together, his gaze dropping to the ground. "Well I don’t know her exact location but I know she’s somewhere in Washington DC or something like that!"
Sam scoffed in disbelief and shook his head. "That’s all the way across the country."
"Well did you want this to go quicker?" Dean shot back defensively.
Sam simply rolled his eyes at Dean.
"Look, are you coming with me or not?" Dean asked, his patience clearly running thin.
"I’m not." Sam said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Why not?" Dean questioned, his frustration clear.
"I swore I was done hunting. For good."
"Come on. It wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t all bad."
Dean starts heading down the stairs once again, with Sam quickly on his trail.
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"You know, in almost three years I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing," Dean tried to reason, his voice softening.
Sam looks away and sighs, then looks back.
"All right. I'll go. I'll help you find the both of them."
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Y/N, a 32 year old FBI agent, sat in the back of the ambulance as the woman cleaned up her many cuts. Her shoulder had been stabbed by the unsub and her head was smashed into a sheet of glass.
"Alright, you're done." The woman finished cleaning her cuts, placing a bandage on her forehead and applying gauze tape to her wound.
Y/N smiled at the woman and hopped off the ambulance truck.
"Y/N!" someone shouted from the distance. She turned to see her great friend Adam, who was the first one to welcome her to the FBI.
She smiled softly as he gave her a comforting hug, "Ow, my shoulder." Her nose scrunched up in pain.
"Sorry," the corners of his mouth turned up as he let go of her.
Other agents of the FBI walked up to her, thanking her for her bravery. "Thank you for saving that girl's life."
"No problem." She gave them a comforting smile.
The agents walked away to discuss matters with other departments.
Y/N and Adam talked about the case for a little while, before Adam turned his attention to something behind her.
"Hey, do you know those people over there?" He asked.
She turned around to look at the people Adam was pointing at. She tilted her head to the side, squinting slightly as she tried to recognize them.
Why did they look so familiar?
Her face paled when she realized who they were.
"Uhm, yea- yeah I do, I’ll be right back," she stuttered, patting his shoulder reassuringly before she walked away.
"What are you guys doing here and how in the hell did you guys find me?" Y/N whispered-yelled at the two boys, her eyes wide with surprise.
"We need your help," Dean replied simply.
Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and put her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, "Oh, so all of a sudden you both need me after what, three years of not talking to me?"
Dean, with a dramatic flair that was all too typical of him, let out an exaggerated sigh. "Listen-" he began, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.
But she cut him off, her frustration palpable. "Dean, please, I really don’t have time for this," she said, waving a hand dismissively.
Sam, practically silent until now, took a step forward. His eyes critically scanned over her face and body, noting the signs of recent distress. "What happened to your shoulder?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.
In response, she lifted a brow and shot him a sarcastic look. "Take a guess, Sam. I’m in the FBI," she said dryly.
He rolled his eyes at her retort. Typical Y/N, he thought, not for the first time.
Dean, who had been silent during their exchange, finally spoke. "Dad’s been missing for a few days, and we… we need you," he stated, his eyes narrowed and serious.
Her reaction was almost immediate. Her jaw tightened, her eyes darkened, her whole demeanor turned defensive. "And why would I want to find him?" she shot back, her voice icy.
He faltered, at a loss for words. He turned away, his gaze landing aimlessly on the nearby crime site.
Now it was Sam’s turn to speak up. He stepped forward, his eyes pleading. "Y/N, please, we really need you right now," he implored, giving her a puppy-dog look. It was a tactic he used to use all the time when he was younger to get what he wanted.
She looked away from him, her lips pursed, her face screwed up in thought. After a long pause, she finally voiced her question. "How- how long is this going to take?"
Dean was the one to answer. "Four days."
She sighed out loud, a wearied sound that echoed in the silence. "You do realize I have a real job, right?" she asked, a note of exasperation in her voice.
Dean rolled his eyes, a retort already forming on his lips. But before he could speak, Y/N interrupted him.
"Fine, I’ll go with you two," she said, her voice resigned.
Dean smiled lightly, relief flooding his features. "Thank you, Y/N."
And so, they walked together to Dean's car, unaware of the challenges and dangers that lay ahead of them.
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staytinyville · 1 year ago
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OUTLAW (1)
ATEEZ ot8 x Reader
Cowboy AU/ Wild West (it’s giving Red Dead Redemption)
New Fanfic for ATEEZ boys. I got no clue yet if it’s gonna be mature quite possibly but we get there when we get there. For now, I’ll be giving warning here if there is a chance of those things. Please enjoy!
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You worked in your family's Inn, attending to the patrons who came and went. The Illusion Inn was built by your grandfather when he had left his hometown in search of work. This was back when the town was barely putting in the cobblestone roads and better infrastructures. When the revolution started hitting closer, the Inn was the first one to house all the workers who were coming to better the city. 
Now though, it wasn’t often that people would stay longer than a day or two, they were only traders moving along to sell their things. You had the select few who had some jobs to do in the area and stayed for longer, but most often than not the hotel always had at least one room open. 
It made working there a lot easier for you seeing as you had three other siblings ranging in age from 20 to 6. The eldest were all placed to work around in some capacity which made the load that much easier to handle. Since being the oldest you were told to manage the front desk as well as the bar while your father was busy handing out drinks to the men who were often seen coming in just for alcohol. 
Being a waitress for the saloon part of the hotel meant you got to meet people of all kinds of class. As well as stories from different parts of the country. Each patron came in with outlandish stories about their journey by horse to Cromer or the gangs they met along the way. 
It was the time in history where so many people found it easier to steal and kill for things rather than do work themselves. Everyone was struggling to some extent. No one was safe from poverty when it came to building a society that was barely starting. 
“I think the outlaw is moving this way,” Some man spoke to your father behind the bar counter. “I heard he shot up a bar in Sharpstown. You better be careful with your family.”
Your father met your eyes as you placed a tray full of empty glasses on the bar. You carried on with your work though, moving to clean the cups you had just cleaned up. 
It was hard to miss the large wanted poster that was plastered nearly on every building in town. The bold Dead or Alive really caught everyone's attention. While it wasn’t uncommon to find a wanted poster of someone, it was rare to have the government want them dead or alive. You must have done something extreme to reach that point. 
“Don’t worry about me, John.” Your father told the man politely. “I’ve seen plenty of outlaws come and go here. You just have to know what to serve them.”
You pursed your lips to keep from giggling at your father. You moved around him to get some empty bottles of liquor before going back to pick up more dirty dishes. It was a rather tame day due to being the middle of the week, so the saloon of the Inn wasn’t really packed. It was easy to forget about the outlaw and his travels.
It was around the time the saloon closed for the night and your younger siblings had all gone to bed that things seemed to change within the air. Your mother was moving things around inside preparing to lock the door for the night, when the sound of horses caught both of your attention. 
You saw your mother pause at the door, moving the stopper to hold it open herself. She spoke some words to someone outside before moving to allow them room to enter. You were quick to put the cash from the day into a box, locking it to keep the two men from seeing just how much you actually had. 
There were two of them, their styled boots hitting the wood flooring with a loud stomp. When they had walked through the threshold, they immediately glanced around the area, assessing the place. 
You weren’t one to shy away from your opinion on people. As a child you would oftentimes get in trouble because you would openly make faces at people. As you grew older and started working with the patrons of the inn you learned how to be more subtle about it. So while these men assessed the inn you took the moment to assess them. 
The tallest one walked ahead of the other, seemingly messing with the bands around his wrists. He only took a glance around the lobby before heading in your direction with purpose. He had a slim face with high cheekbones. The clothes he wore were meant to withstand the weather. He was decked out in leather and cowboy boots.
The other however walked with his shoulders squared, eyes moving about in search of something he might not like. Unlike the tall man, this one had a more stern expression on his face, he looked mature. He wore just about the same clothing as the other, however his pants seemed to stretch over thighs a bit tighter. 
It was especially hard to miss the police badges on their chest as you eyed them up. When they reached you, you had to look up as the man spoke to you first. 
“We would like a room.” He told you. 
The Inn was technically closed for the night so you couldn’t give them a room until the morning. You glanced at your mother first, the woman giving you a nod.
“Just one?” You asked, glancing behind him to his partner. 
“Just one. With two beds if possible.” He didn’t dare to move his eyes from you as you stared him down. 
He didn’t speak more on the subject, but you knew he was coming up with conclusions on his own about the place he had just entered. It left a bubbling feeling in the pit of your stomach to think this person would assume you or your family would bring harm to anyone. Maybe you would if threatened. 
“(Y/N).” Your mother cleared her throat. “Please give these kind officers the room in the back.”
“Of course.” You told her, moving along to get the key you needed. 
“Follow me.” You told them, not waiting to see if they had listened. You could hear their boots clicking on the floor so you knew they had. 
The room was on the first floor towards the back of the Inn. With the building stationed on closer to the outer limits of the town, the view from the windows was of the meadows and neighborhoods. Your grandfather had chosen the area to make it easier for travelers who came by horse or foot to find rest faster. Your home wasn’t that far, which meant oftentimes you all would walk back for a rest. 
“I am the attendant for the night.” You told them in a rehearsed voice. “Should you need anything, I will be in the front.”
With that you immediately left the room and back towards the front with a shiver going down your spine. They weren’t dangerous men from what you could feel, but they still left you with an uneasy feeling.
“I’m going to head home now.” Your mother told you. “Be careful. You know where the gun is.”
It wasn’t the first time it was your turn to take over the night shift. When your parents deemed you old enough to attend to the hotel alone, they took rest and shifted the load. There were other employees as well but they still put you down as someone to watch over the inn. Besides, compared to others they trusted you a bit more. 
It was midnight when you had finished going over the inventory and had decided to go to sleep in the backroom for the night shift worker. Before taking a nap though, you made your rounds around the inn to make sure there was nothing out of the ordinary. 
As you passed the two police officers bedroom, there was some shuffling heard but not enough to cause suspicion. Maybe they had still been awake. You shrugged your shoulders and moved along to take your rest. 
That was short lived when around 3 in the morning there was a lot of noise going on outside of the window. There was a good amount of cursing and arguments of trying to keep others quiet as whoever the group was seemed to move along the hotel's side. 
You kept the light off, hoping the street lamps would illuminate the aggressors. All you could make out were silhouettes cluttered at the end of the hotel. You tried to quietly open the window to peak your head out to get a better view. 
The building stretched for a good amount so the group hadn’t caught sight of you peeking in at them. You quickly glared when you noticed them huddled at the window that was meant for the last bedroom of the floor. It was the room where the officers were staying. 
With outlaws in mind, you were quick to put on your boots and a cardigan to cover up your pajamas. You rushed to the front lobby, doing a double take on the rifle leaning against the wall by the door. You made haste to grab it before rushing out of the lobby and into the foggy night. 
When you turned the corner, you raised the gun aiming it towards whoever you could. Before you could shoot to alert others, the last person seemed to have made their way into the window ungracefully. You cursed to yourself quickly rushing to see where they had entered. 
“Hey!” You screamed, rushing forward with the gun aimed right into the bedroom. Your eyes went wide as the barrel pushed into the stomach of the tall officer from earlier in the day. 
His arms were stretched above his head as he was about to shut the window. His eyes went wide as well when he realized someone was looking into the room. He moved to the side in a panic, eyes searching for his leader on what to do. 
As he moved out of the way, you noticed there were more men in the room than you cared to admit. You were more worried about how they all fit into the small space if anything. While your eyes scanned over all of them, you counted 6 new people in total. However the ones that seemed to stop you from scolding them were the two who seemed to be bleeding profusely. 
There was one on a bed, more than likely staining the sheets that made you internally cringe at having to buy new ones. Another was holding onto his shoulder as he seemed to sit across from the one sprawled out on the mattress. 
Just as your wide eyes swept back over the other men, your eyes caught the blue haired man who was looking at you with squinted eyes. 
“Grab her.”
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Series Masterlist
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481mclarg · 2 months ago
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Scared to love you | AL65
★ I've never been good at telling people how to feel, but you make me want to try.
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STLY        •       FANFIC + SMAU.
          • Arthur Leclerc m Male!Oc driver
Warnings: Drunk sex, sexual - suggestive content. (tbh, It was more explicit, but I cut it out. I ended up feeling a little uncomfortable with that part).
★          introduction. | one. | two. | three. | four. | five. | six. | seven. | eight. | nine. | ten. | eleven. | twelve. | thirteen. | fourteen. | fifteen. | sixteen. |
          Matteo had moments of consciousness and unconsciousness, taking another drink when he felt sobriety returning to him. The sensations of the dare with Dennis were already forgotten. He didn’t care. What did bother him was noticing that something was wrong with Arthur and not knowing what it was bothered him even more.
          Well, he knew that the Monegasque was acting strange since the kiss, or perhaps since he lied about being attracted to other men. Why did he even care? Would he be upset? He didn’t stop seeing him, no matter what he did.
          He was uncomfortable, nervous. Would he ask to change rooms? Wouldn’t he want him to spend the rest of the weekend with them? What was he going to do now that he walked away with his phone in hand?
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          His plan was to wait for him outside, but seeing how close the Italian was to Dennis, he couldn’t. He frowned. Were they always like this?
          Everything bothered him. See how they had to get closer to each other, how Dennis placed his hand on the boy’s lower back and he surrounded his shoulders, how they laugh while he was supposed to just let him know that they were going back to the hotel. Why? Why did they become so close now? Another good question would be: Why did he care?
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          They waited there for a couple of minutes, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, both feeling the typical dizziness of alcohol, mixed with confusion and discomfort generated by the pending conversation. Matteo didn’t know what to expect and Arthur what to say.
          —Just a moment, per favore... —he muttered, searching on Google Maps for the address of the hotel where they were staying, since the driver said he didn't know the area well or which building to take them to.
          —Italianos? —
          — Parli italiano? —he asked the man while showing him from his cell phone, both a photo of the hotel and the exact address on the map. The car's GPS was off by a few meters, but it wouldn't be a problem, so they left. — Sono italiano. È monegasco, ma parla anche italiano. — (Do you speak Italian? I'm Italian. He’s Monegasque, but also speaks Italian).
          —"Parla" nada, cero, pero lo entiendo de oído. —he explained. —Ustedes? De español nada? —They began to chat among themselves. Arthur sank into his seat, wishing to get there soon and stop hearing that stupid Italian accent that was spinning around in his head. ("Speak" nothing, zero, but I understand by ear. You? No Spanish?)
          Literally, every day of his life, he heard more Italian than any other language; sometimes, he caught himself speaking it to Charles. Why did it suddenly sound so good? So different from the Italian everyone at the academy speaks.
          —¡Grazie mille, signore! ¡Buona notte! —Matteo seemed really happy after sharing his whole life with the driver, talking about his Nonna, surnames, and towns that he couldn't identify on a map. He was still upset. He wanted to get to the room quickly and finally understand what was wrong with him. —Stai bene? —He noticed how strange Arthur was, thinking that it could be the alcohol's fault. (Thank you so much, sir! Good night! Are you okay?)
          —I’m fine. —he nodded, but letting Matteo help him walk up the hotel stairs, and then to the elevator.
          —Maybe it’s better to go to sleep. —He suggested, and though Leclerc didn’t refuse, he wasn’t willing to go to sleep with all that on his mind. He knew he couldn't do it.
          He looked at the empty hallway, while Matteo opened the door, deciding to push him inside as soon as it was unlocked, surprising the Italian, but trying not to hurt him by cornering him against the wall next to the entrance of the room.
          —Arth-? —
          —If you are going to stop me, Lo, please, do it now. —he begged, having to put one hand on the wall to keep his balance, while the other went up to the Italian's arm, which held him by the side.
          Matteo's other hand moved up to the brunette's neck, eliminating the distance between them, without thinking about the situation or its consequences.
          Their lips collided, moving against each other. It was different from the kiss between Matteo and Dennis. Neither of them was counting the seconds to break the kiss. On the contrary, they were trying to hold their breath as long as possible so they wouldn't have to.
          They had never felt like this, so drowned in the need for something, for someone. They could have stood there for hours, they didn't know. They didn't care either. Only when Lombardi began to find it annoying to constantly bang his head against the wall did they stop.
          Their gazes fixed on each other, panting, trying to catch some air. They looked for some sign of regret in each other's eyes, but they felt anything but regret. It was impossible for them to keep their gaze, struggling to raise it again, but it ended up falling on each other's lips anyway.
          Now, with both hands on his waist, Leclerc pushed him away from the wall in one last kiss before heading him towards his bed. Lombardi followed him, understanding that this was what the Monegasque wanted.
          On the way, he reached for a bottle of whiskey from the fridge in the room and opened it, taking a sip. —Truth or dare? —he asked the boy sitting next to him, expectantly.
          —... Truth. —
          —Do you regret kissing me? —he began, straight to the point.
          —No. Not at all. —he denied quickly. —I-? —before he could ask anything, Leclerc repeated:
          —Truth or dare? —
          —Truth. —he chose, believing that this would be the only way to start a conversation with the Monegasque.
          —Did you like kissing Dennis? —
          —I- Well. Uh... —he stammered. —I don't know, I mean- It wasn't bad... —that didn't seem to please him too much.
          He had taken another drink, waiting for Lombardi to choose between "truth or dare" again.
          It took him a couple of seconds to think about it, —Dare. —Gave him a chance to get revenge. He could ask him to do anything he wanted. That was how Matteo felt when he gave Arthur the chance, who also understood that it was his way of apologizing, although they didn’t even know what he was apologizing for.
          —Come here. —he ordered, bringing Matteo on top of him. He sat on his lap, waiting. Leclerc had nothing planned other than to bring him back close to him, but facing those big eyes that practically begged him to do something, he couldn’t refuse.
          A new kiss began, just as messy as the previous ones. It was rough, but all they needed now. Later, they could worry about the emotional background that had them reacting that way.
          —Truth or dare. —Matteo said quickly, before taking the bottle of whiskey from Arthur’s hand to take a generous swig of the alcohol. He felt his throat burn. He wasn’t used at all to the sensation, but he no longer cared about anything other than the boy beneath him.
          —Truth. —he gasped.
          —Were you jealous of the kiss with Dennis or what is this all about? —maybe it wasn't the best way or the best time to ask, but he wasn't in the mood to think about times and places.
          —I- Honestly, I don't know. —Matteo nodded, believing the anguish in his gaze, and deciding to leave it there. He was tempted to lower the kisses down Leclerc's marked jaw, even reaching his neck, but he continued talking, distracting him. —Truth or dare? —
          —Dare. —He didn't wait for the younger to decide the dare. He simply pushed him towards the bed, kissing him again, sitting now on his abdomen.
          —It doesn't seem like you have a hard time fulfilling this type of dare. —Arthur smiled when they separated for lack of air.
          Matteo laughed, knowing deep down that it was only due to the alcohol consumed throughout the night. That vacation, although it had only just begun, had already significantly changed the young Italian's life.
          —Don't waste the confidence I have now because I can't guarantee that other things will end up just as well. —Arthur thought about it. How far would they go? The question had been torturing Matteo since the first kiss.
          He didn't know what to believe. He wasn't sure he was ready for that kind of closeness. When he agreed to travel, he never imagined it would end like this; he had not mentally prepared himself for any of it.
          He couldn't even be sure that the kisses were really good. They were just the product of the desperation and need of two excited drunk young men.
          —My only experience in all this is from a couple of hours ago, with Dennis. —Despite the joking tone, it was the truth.
          —Dennis was your first kiss? —There it was again that something in his gaze. Annoyance, jealousy.
          He barely let the Italian nod before pulling him back by the neck, kissing him again. He wanted more; he needed to be more than Dennis was. Needed to be a new experience in Matteo's life.
          He couldn't say he had much knowledge either, but with women he had been able to manage it in a simpler way. With another man, how would things work? What should they do? He didn't have condoms. It would never have crossed his mind to end up like this, with his friend and teammate on top of him, rubbing their bodies between kisses.
          —Can I... touch? —he asked. His hands unconsciously pressed the dark-haired boy's waist.
          —Please. —he nodded in a needy gasp. Arthur saw again those eyes that begged for some touch, as lost as he was, but willing to finish whatever they were starting.
          Touching someone else's body was completely new to him. Strange. He knew what to do, where or how it was best to touch, and what he had to avoid. The clothes had hardly moved out of place, but they didn't seem to   care. They were more focused on catching the other's gasps and moans against their lips.
          Matteo felt a different kind of dizziness. It wasn't the alcohol. He didn't even feel drunk anymore, or not from whiskey, at least. He felt in a kind of trance brought on by Arthur's touch. He hadn't left his hands still either.
          He caressed the body beneath his, opening the shirt, exploring. He was completely lost about what to do and what not. He had never been in a similar situation with anyone. His only reference were the few porn videos he watched in the past, and he knew they weren't the best help either.
          At least Arthur seemed to like it, so he continued, daring to lower his kisses when their mouths separated. He started with the jaw, going down to the neck, guided by the Monegasque's panting. He would have liked to know how to give a hickey; he thought a mark there would look good.
          Arthur felt Matteo's breath against his collarbones, driving him crazy. The air collided unevenly against the recent kisses, cold, but at the same time the hottest thing he had ever experienced.
          That night, everything was a mixture of new and strange but pleasant sensations from which no one wanted to get away.
          The Monegasque doubted that one of his friends had ever seemed as beautiful to him as Matteo did now. Apparently, it was true that there was a special after-sex glow.
          —Was it okay? —he asked, as if he didn’t have living proof of how wonderful it was right in front of him.
          —Amazing. —he nodded, leaning in to kiss him one last time. —Are we going to sleep? —
          —Together? —he looked at the Monegasque, surprised to see him willing to simply lay back and sleep. —Are we going to… sleep together? —
          —You don’t want to? —Maybe had Arthur been too hasty in believing that they could do things like sleep together after make out?
          —No- I mean, yes! I do. Yes. —he nodded quickly. Arthur laughed, pulling the Italian by the arm, bringing him close, gently, and lovingly brushing his bare skin. —Maybe- we need to clean up a bit first. — suggested. —I’ll go get a towel. —Arthur nodded, letting Matteo take care of cleaning him after having done the same to himself.
          —Good night, Lo. —he murmured, feeling his eyelids weighing down.
          —Good night. —he gave her one last kiss, before they both gave in to exhaustion.
[ 📱 ] Arthur's phone.
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481MCLARG | 17 . 01 . 2025 | CORREGIDO
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sstardustt3 · 8 months ago
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“Sorry you have reached a number that is disconnected or is no longer in service.” -falsettos fanfic
Authors note- uhhh this is kinda trashy because I made it in like 15 minutes without editing
Word count- 1.149k
Warnings- angst, canonical character death, Marvin needs a therapist that isn’t Mendel, post act 2, implied character death, Marvin’s giddy seizures references, suicidal thoughts, seriously someone get him a psychiatrist
Summary- Marvin thinks about him and whizzer, he comes to the realization that his memory of whizzer is fading.
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-requests for fics and hcs are always welcome-
.
.
.
It had been two months.
Or exactly 1460 hours since whizzer had left permanently. 840 hours since he saw his lover lowered into the ground, buried underneath hot soil. It was sunny that day, the sun beamed down on the back of his neck causing sweat to form and trickle onto the inside part of the collar of the white button up.
Marvin hated the Sun, he always preferred the rain. Cold wet rain made him feel less alone, the pitter patter as the rain hit the ground or the window brung him comfort. The sun didn’t. But whizzer liked the sun; he liked both actually, but above all weather conditions he loved the sun. He remembered asking him about it once, said something about how the heat from it gave him a dopamine rush. He remembered whizzer sounding-
His thought ended there. He searched for words to describe how he sounded on that day, but he could barely do it. The sound of his voice was faint like a memory from when your three. Marvin stood still. Completely frozen as he tried desperately to remember.
“C’mon…c’mon…”
Whizzer, whizzer, whizzer, whizzer.
He searched his mind desperately for every memory he and whizzer had to remember what he sounded like. It hadn’t been that long had it? No no, whizzer wasn’t gone. Whizzer was still here in memory, he had to remember or else whizzer would be gone. He would’ve lost whizzer forever. There would be no salvation for it.
Marvin’s body started to attempt to move, but he couldn’t. In fact, when he tried to, he immediately lost his balance and almost fell if it wasn’t for the wall. He’d been like this for a while, he’d been used to the muscle atrophy at this point. It had been happening even before whizzer got hospitalized. He did what he normally did, dragged his foot, forced himself to move desperately the tingling sensation and numbness.
He slumped to the ground as soon as he reached the small wooden table that his phone sat. He reached up, his hand searching for the familiar shape and started to push it off. He caught it as it feel and he quickly dialed.
xxx-xxx-xxxx
He held the receiver up to his ear. His breath heavy with anticipation as it rang. It was only maybe 15 seconds but it felt like 15 years of waiting. 15 years of waiting for whizzer to answer, for him to ask Marvin howworks going, marvin would answer that he’s working late, that he’d be home soon. Marvin would be nice, say that he’d bring takeout on his way home. Whizzer would say okay. He’d come home to see whizzer. Everything would be alright that way.
Finally the ringing ended and Marvin gripped the reciver like a frightened hold with a knife.
“Hello this is whizzer brown, I’m out right now. Call back later, unless I’m ignoring you. In that case fuck off.”
The line went dead and Marvin called back again.
“Hello this is whizzer brown, I’m out right now. Call back later, unless I’m ignoring you. In that case fuck off.”
And again, and again, and again. He started laughing. It was kinda like whizzer was ignoring him huh? Like he was two years back when they’d first broken up. Marvin remember a couple days after the incident he had called whizzer seven times, one time sober where he left him harsh words. Called him a money hungry slut that couldn’t keep his legs shut that just leeched off of rich men. The other times he was drunk, completely hammered. Begging, apologizing like a pathetic loser. Whizzer only answered once. With the help of the voicemail he remembered the exact tone and cadence of his voice.
“Marvin.”
He paused and Marvin began his drunken apologies, whizzer cut him off after a sentence though.
“Marvin, lose my number. Never call me again or else I’m changing it.”
He sounded tired, angry, a little bit pained too. The line went dead after that and as much as Marvin was pissed that day that whizzer dared had the nerve to ignore, he ultimately obliged. He didn’t call him or see him until two years later.
Marvin laughed at the memory. Not that it was funny in any capacity, but the idea whizzer was just ignoring him again. That if he keeps pestering whizzers line he’d answer, cuss him out, yell obscenities at him. He wanted nothing more than for him to do that actually. He wanted to hear whizzer again, he wanted to touch and feel his hair, his skin. He wanted to talk to him. This was the closest he could get. So he dialed again, and again, and again.
For the first time in months he felt happy it was Like whizzer was still here, like whizzer was going to walk though their apartment door and kiss him. Everything of whizzer’s was still here after all. His cameras, his clothes, his shoes, his film, his baseball bat, his mitt, his racket. all of it. Whizzers stuff was in their room waiting for him. Whizzers line was still active, so eventually he’d answer and complain about Marvin blowing up his phone, he’d come home and tear Marvin a new one about not taking care of himself and his disgusting choice of clothes. Whizzers still here.
He dialed his number again. The numbers on it started to become more faded than the rest, Marvin didn’t know how long he’d been at this. Marvin had began to loose the concept of time outside of his work hours entirely actually. He held the receiver up to his ear again, waiting for the next hit of relief at whizzers voice as if it was a drug. But was instead swindled and scammed, being met with the robotic tone of a woman.
“Sorry you have reached a number that is disconnected or is no longer in service.”
He threw the reciver down to the floor, the line making the rest of the phone follow. It was most likely broken but Marvin didn’t care.
Whizzer was gone. Marvin couldn’t hear whizzers voice anymore. Marvin wouldn’t ever see whizzer again, Marvin wouldn’t see his lover come home, his lover wouldn’t take photos of him without him looking, he wouldn’t tear into him anymore for his poor choice of clothing and style, they wouldn’t play raquetball anymore, whizzers camera would collect dust, so would his film, whizzer wouldn’t play and loose against Jason, whizzer wouldn’t help Jason practice for baseball.
Whizzer brown was gone, he wasn’t coming back.
Marvin laughed and laughed and laughed. He writhed and clutched his stomach tightly as he curled into a ball. Laughs eventually turned into choked up sobs.
Whizzer brown was officially gone, there was no salvation or saving grace. Marvin had gotten one of his worse fears to come to fruition. At least Marvin would reunite with him soon enough, apologize for everything. He was bound to see his lover once more, kiss him, hold him, talk with him. eat with him, swallow him whole. Weather it be illness or the ocean, he’ll see whizzer once more.
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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 8 months ago
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Hi was just going through the post on “hale” which was searched cause my cat is such a mediating little baby and it was a pic of stiles flirting with Derek and Scott just validating and hyping stiles up, and I wanted to know if you know or can recommend some good Scott himbo fanfics, just him being a dude bro himbo who loves stiles so much, especially with working hard to get Stiles and Derek together.
Thank you!!,! It can included as many himbo as you like!,!!!!
Yeah!
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The Matchmaking Alpha (or Two Dumb Love Birds Attack) by NathTE
(1/? I 300 I Teen)
Scott was tired of seeing Stiles and Derek dancing around each other, which made it even more frustrating as he was the one both chose to come to talk about the other.
So, he decided he was going to help them realize, that their supposedly unrequited love, wasn’t that unrequited anyway.
Come Over Here And Make Me by tabbytabbytabby
(1/1 I 1,759 I Teen)
Stiles and Derek get stuck together when Scott and Mason team up and find a way to keep them trapped at Derek's. It works out better than they expected.
For the prompts: “Looks like we’re gonna be stuck here for a while.” and “Come over here and make me.”
McLinski's by StaciNadia
(1/1 I 3,075 I General)
Derek is a coffee snob looking for some good coffee, but what he finds is bad coffee jokes and maybe a whole lot more.
ones you never expected by Marishna
(1/1 I 3,832 I Mature)
A few seconds later Stiles and Derek heard the elevator start its laborious descent to the ground floor.
Stiles kept his head buried in one of the new books he picked up, scanning the passages for any keyword or phrasing that sounded similar to what their allied San Bernadino pack friends were dealing with. Finally, after three long, drawn-out minutes, Derek dropped his pen to the table and pushed back from it.
“They’re gone,” he told Stiles who stuck a piece of paper between the pages to mark his place and shut his book.
“About time! Now, strip,” he ordered.
How To Get Your Idiot Friends Together: A Four Step Process by Scott McCall by reptilianraven
(1/1 I 4,344 I General)
"He laughs at your jokes, man. How blind can you be?"
Stiles makes this face like he ate a lemon or something. "Are we talking about the same guy here? Because Derek Hale has never once laughed at my jokes."
"No, he does the thing where he exhales quickly through his nose. Like when you see something funny on the internet." Scott says and oh my god. "Stiles he thinks you're funny like how things on the internet are funny. I don't get why I have to explain this to you!"
-
In which Scott plays matchmaker because he'd probably go insane if these two idiots can't get their fucking act together.
[slide] by sonic_counselor
(1/1 I 16,506 I Mature)
He’s worked at the movie theater for just over a year now and it’s probably the best job he’s ever had, although that’s not entirely a fair comparison when the only other jobs he’s ever had involved raking leaves for Mrs. Huckabee next door and doing some filing for his dad at the station.
He’s also had a crush on Derek for just over a year, ever since his first day at the theater when their overbearing and probably certifiably insane general manager, Bobby Finstock, had declared he didn’t have time to do Stiles’ induction and had palmed him off on Derek instead because he happened to be walking past the office.
# #
Working at the movie theater alongside his crush is all getting a little too much for Stiles. It's just as well Scott, and his terrible matchmaking plans, are on hand to help out.
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littlelovelyra · 10 months ago
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I'm with you - Astarion FanFic
Fem tav x Astarion
Tav is a bard
Summary: Unbeknownst to you, Astarion has realised that perhaps his plan is falling apart, you have felt him distancing himself for a few days. You now arrive at last light inn where one night Alfira asks you to perform one of your latest songs. Which leads to you and Astarion alone in your quarters later.
Notes: Ive written this based around a song by vance joy, there will be the use of the lyrics from the song (maybe a few changed lyrics) for the plot of this story, so you will be reading the song lyrics - if you wish to listen to how its meant to be sung, the song is called “Im with you” - I suck at fanfic writing but I day dream a lot and since hearing this song I have had this “encounter” in my head so I like to get it out.
Warnings: Fluff, Oral, PiV, fingering
MINORS DNI
He’s been distant, and you don't know why. You spend your time lost in thought, replaying moments in your mind, searching for what you might have done to push him away. He hasn't sought you out for his daily feeds either, which surely means he must be growing weak. The last time you were alone together was two days after obliterating the Githyanki Creche. You wonder if he's still mad about the blast from that weapon you triggered. But you'd asked him multiple times if he had forgiven you, and he had reassured you that it was in the past. He had even warned you that next time he would be the one to wield the powerful weapon, as if he were more responsible than you.
You arrived at Last Light Inn in what you believe to be the early hours of the morning, though time feels different here. Your companions insisted you take the single room available, with its own bed and privacy. Perhaps they don’t know that Astarion hasn’t visited you for the past three nights…
Three nights ago, you had quietly slipped into his tent for him to feed on you. You remember how gently he laid you down, cradling your head with his arm as he carefully kissed your neck before sinking his teeth in. You can still feel his other hand cupping your cheek, his thumb tracing loving circles around your jaw. His soft moans as he drank you in echoed in your mind. After he had his fill, he placed another tender kiss on your wounds and slowly pulled you into a long, slow kiss that felt earth-shatteringly intimate, something you had never felt from him before. Remembering the feel of his cold hands exploring your body with such tenderness and purpose sends a shiver through you, as if you can still feel his touch. The breathlessness you both shared while tangled together in a night of passion, only to wake up the next morning with him already gone. You wondered if you had imagined the love radiating from him.
But now, there is nothing but silence. Eye contact avoided. Your chest feels as if it has caved in. You don’t know how to repair this, so you do what you know best. You pick up your lute and begin to compose. After what seems like an eternity of trying to collect your thoughts, you compose something that perfectly captures how you feel in this moment. Yet, the heaviness still weighs deeply within you. Sighing to yourself, you set down the paper and your lute and decide to purchase a drink at the bar.
“It’s you!” A familiar voice calls out from across the room. You lift your head to see the friendly face of Alfira, a fellow bard. You meet her smile with one just as wide and pull her into a warm embrace.
“I’m so glad you made it here, Alfira! I hope you’ve been keeping yourself out of trouble!” you say, holding her at arm’s length, taking her in. She seems healthy and safe.
“Well, it’s all thanks to you, Tav! I’ve been keeping out of trouble, just working on my music. In fact, I’ve been providing entertainment here for a while. I thought this place needed some nightly music to lift everyone’s spirits… OH! YES! I have the BEST idea!”
You know where this is going, and you don’t like it.
“You need to play here tonight, Tav! Please!” Her eyes are practically sparkling with excitement.
“Look, Alfira, I’m sure nobody wants to hear my stuff. Yours is probably way more interesting.”
“Nonsense.” She looks around the bar and loudly announces, “Who wants to hear Tav tonight instead of me?”
Gale, being Gale, yells in agreement, and the rest of the bar follows suit. You shoot daggers at him, who holds his hands up in surrender, offering an apologetic smile.
“I suppose I can, but one song only, Alfira.” You offer her a small smile. One song—you can handle it. It will be fine.
“Amazing! I heard some music coming from your room before, which is why I came inside. I’d like to hear that one, please! OH, I can’t wait. This is going to be AMAZING!”
Before you can protest the song choice, she gives you a quick hug and exits the building, spreading the news of your performance.
__________________________________
You spent the rest of the day polishing the lyrics of the song, and the time has finally come to head out and wait for Alfira to bring you up on the makeshift stage set in the corner of the room.
“We have an exceptional surprise for you all tonight! Our very own Tav will be performing one of her latest compositions! Please help me in welcoming her up!” Alfira extends her hand out and you sheepishly take it to hop up on the platform. Casting a look around the room you take a moment to compose yourself, this is what you did for a living before all hell broke loose. You can do this… and that’s when you see him lingering in the back, swirling his drink in his hand, his gaze completely fixed on you. You inhale deeply and you begin to play your new song, your stare never leaving his as you sing…
“I saw you standing there, the curls in your hair, the way it came tumbling down, just like a waterfall. And if you need a light I’ll be the match to your candle My Darling I’m ready, to burst into flames for you.”
Holding his stare you see something flicker in those ruby eyes but you continue without faltering.
“I was just coasting till we met. You remind me just how good it can get..
Well I’ve been on fire dreaming of you Tell me you don’t, it feels like you do Looking like that you’ll open some wounds… How does is start and when does it end? I’ve only been here for a moment but I know I want you But is it too soon? To know that I’m with you? There’s nothing I can do”
“There's nothing I won't do to see you shine I'll swing for the fences I'll run to the line And it's high time that you love me 'Cause you do it so well Oh darling, I'm with you There's nothing I won't do…”
You concluded the song, and the entire Last Light Inn erupted in cheers and hollers of approval. It had been a long time since you had experienced such genuine appreciation for your music, and your heart swelled with gratitude. You offered a small bow from the waist and made your way off the platform, shaking a few hands along the way. Alfira had returned to the stage, and the entertainment resumed.
_______________________________________
After a brief conversation with some of your companions, you excuse yourself and head to your room. Placing your lute gently on the table, you begin to prepare for bed, starting to undress. As you stand in your underclothes, a sudden chill envelops you from behind, causing your body to tense. You inhale a familiar scent - bergamot, rosemary, and a hint of aged brandy - and realize that you are not alone.
"Hello, darling," he breathes into your ear as he places a hand on your bare waist, sending a cold shiver down your spine. You slowly turn to face him, lifting your gaze to meet his. A thousand questions scream in your eyes, and you can tell he clearly sees them.. Before you can even form a sentence his mouth is on yours, with heated desperation his hands moving across the fullness of your body, taking you in, holding you as if he would never hold you again. Your questions vanish and nothing but desire flows through you down to your precious core that is aching with need for him. In an instant he’s guided you to the bed in the corner, placing you down, his kisses never missing a beat as he undresses you. The peaks of your breasts swell with anticipation as he scatters kisses down your neck, across your collarbone and eventually sucks in one of the tender peaks. A moan escapes your lips as you feel his hand moving toward your core.
He finds the bundle of nerves that eagerly await his touch and he begins rubbing slow circles around your clit.
“Astarion.’ You breathe out in a soft moan that sends him trailing kisses down your body until his head is at your very centre. You arch your back in anticipation, your body begging his mouth to find its home.
He lets out a soft growl as he buries his head in you, his tongue expertly delivering long calculated strokes, flicks and swirls. As he feels your body nearing its end he curls two fingers inside you and pumps them in and out while completely devouring you. You feel yourself becoming light headed and your body shaking as the wave comes crashing down. You let out a loud moan as you completely shatter around his face.
Astarion comes back up to you slowly cleaning his fingers off with his mouth while never breaking his stare. He slowly brings his face to yours kissing you deeply and you feel his hardness through his clothes pressing against you. A soft gasp escapes your lips as he undoes his trousers, springing free you feel his hardened flesh on yours.
While never breaking his kiss he slowly eases himself into you, the two of you exhaling the moment he fills and stretches you. He moves in and out in a slow rhythm, one almost matching the composition you had performed earlier. You can feel the passion and heat with every kiss and every pump that fills you.
“Astarion…” you whisper between his kisses, his pace quickens as if a torch had been lit under him, he drives into you harder, faster more desperate and you can feel him reaching his end. You are not even aware that you are doing it, its as if its become instinct, you turn your head exposing your neck, an invitation for him to have complete satisfaction. Without hesitation he sinks in groaning so loud you swore you felt the bed shake. You can feel his body starting to twitch and buckle as he comes undone, you find yourself exploding in ecstasy with him.
The two of you lay there, breathing heavy. All is silent for a moment until his gaze meets yours.
“Why?” You manage to choke out, your throat tightening. You wish you could demand answers, explain your hurt, anything but this pathetic whimpering mess. Your eyes are stinging while you hold back tears, screaming to yourself in your mind that you will NOT cry.
Astarion’s ruby eyes slowly scan your face, understanding flickering through them and his face softens; you think you see a hint of shame there.
“I was afraid,” he whispered softly. “I… I’m not good for you, Tav.”
You look at him and place a hand on his face. “Let me decide what is good for me. Please. It's okay to be afraid… I thought I had done something wrong. I thought… I thought you grew tired of me.”
Pain flickers across his features that vanishes all too quickly and is replaced with a quiet chuckle. “You do everything right, Tav… I cannot fault you on anything. As for growing tired of you? I don’t think I would ever be capable of doing that… ever… and perhaps that’s what scares me the most.”
You understand now. For an immortal, growing close to someone must be a frightening thing. Maybe, just maybe, the two of you could find a way for you to be with him forever.
You keep your thoughts to yourself and softly place a kiss on his lips.
He smiles and whispers, “For the record, Love, I’m with you too.”
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noc1818 · 25 days ago
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A Score to be Settled - Chrollo X Reader Fanfic
Hey everyone! I’m so excited to be back with Chapter Two of A Score to be Settled! I truly appreciate all the love—your hearts, comments, and reblogs on the first chapter mean the world to me. You’re all so incredibly kind, and I can’t wait to share more of this story with you!
This chapter really builds up to the long-awaited reunion between Chrollo and the reader, leaning heavily into that enemies-to-lovers tension. I hope you enjoy the dynamic unfolding! As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts, and I’m already looking forward to working on Chapter Three!
Sneak view of Chapter 2: The Stage:
In the outskirts of York New City, 1996, the Phantom Troupe faces an invisible adversary, their meticulously planned heists crumbling before an unknown force. Chrollo, ever composed yet vexed, gathers his Spiders to unearth the mole—or the mastermind pulling the strings. Suspicion flickers between Hisoka and an external informant, leading to a tense confrontation.
Elsewhere, a hidden player watches from the shadows. You, an elusive figure with a personal vendetta against Chrollo, have been manipulating the Troupe from afar. But now, Hisoka has forced your hand—you must step into the game. The upcoming masquerade heist is no longer just about treasure; it's about a reckoning. With identities concealed behind masks and betrayals lurking in every glance, the stage is set for a deadly dance where every move could be your last.
Will Chrollo uncover the truth before it's too late? Or will you bring the Phantom Troupe to its knees from within?
The hunt has begun.
A few warnings for this piece: Angst, implications of murder, theft
Enjoy
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Chapter Two: The Stage
Word Count: 3537
York New – Outskirts, 1996 -
As the phone call ended, Chrollo snapped his flip phone shut, the movement abrupt and careless. His free hand drummed steadily on the leather armrest of the chair. His eyes remained fixed on the blueprint and the detailed plans spread out in front of him. Everything had been meticulously prepared, every angle accounted for. So how had the heist gone wrong?
His gaze moved back over the details, searching for something he might have missed. There had to be an oversight, right? The target was the Verosian Art Museum, where the troupe had planned to steal a rare collection of works by the late artist Gilan Lamone. Rumor had it that Lamone’s collection, titled Compulsione degli Amanti, had a strange effect on those who viewed it. Reports suggested that the art would provoke an overwhelming sense of infatuation in the viewer toward the person closest to them.
Couples from all over the world flocked to see Lamone’s work, hoping it would strengthen their bond. But it also attracted those with less honorable intentions—people who sought to manipulate emotions or, in some cases, individuals desperate enough to try and forge a romantic connection, no matter the cost.
Chrollo, of course, knew the truth behind the phenomenon: the art was infused with nen. Lamone, a transmuter, had woven his own emotions into each brushstroke, amplifying the effect of the work. This strategy, while unusual, had been brilliant. It had made his pieces extraordinarily valuable, as they invoked such powerful feelings in those who viewed them. To the public, Lamone’s work seemed like nothing short of genius.
It was a shame, really, that Lamone had recently been found murdered in his own home—some even said he had been killed by his own paintbrush. Chrollo looked up from his desk at the half-finished canvas before him. The shades of gray blended beautifully, forming what would have been another masterpiece. Now, however, the monochrome was marred by a stunning crimson splatter, streaking across both the painted portion of the canvas and the untouched white space.
What a shame, he mused, that this piece would never be seen by the art world. But no matter—he would keep it for his personal collection. After all, what kind of thief would he be if he didn’t take such a lovely souvenir?
His expression twisted slightly. As striking as the painting was, it also served as a bitter reminder of yet another failed heist. The troupe had successfully completed the first part of the job—eliminating Lamone, ensuring that his artwork would skyrocket in value. Everyone knew that when an artist died, their pieces sold for ten times their original worth. They had even secured a client particularly enamored with the Compulsione degli Amanti collection, willing to pay millions of jenny for it before. Now, with Lamone’s untimely demise, the value had soared into the billions.
And yet, when they were poised to steal the collection from the museum, they discovered the pieces had been moved at the last minute. Someone had tipped off the museum.
A scowl darkened Chrollo’s usually impassive face. How? Who could have warned them? More importantly—who would dare? 
Truly, it had been a headache of a situation. They arrived expecting to find priceless paintings, only to be met by a small militia—assassins, hitmen, and ex-military operatives. Foolish of them to think such resistance could stop the Phantom Troupe.
Predictably, it turned into a bloodbath. But for all the effort, there was nothing to show for it. No spoils, no reward, just another wasted mission. This was the third heist they had intercepted. The third time their plans had been thwarted. The third unshakable failure in a row.
And that fact bothered Chrollo the most. He had lost—three times now—to the same unknown force. That was unacceptable. Whoever was behind this, he would find them. And when he did, they would be brought before him.
In some ways, he was impressed. Whoever this person—or group—was, they had managed to uncover his plans not once, not twice, but three times. They had connections, resources, and enough nerve to act on their information. That took a certain level of intellect. Yet what stood out the most was their ability to vanish without a trace. The Troupe had found no leads, no evidence—nothing. It was as if their enemy were a ghost.
Chrollo was perplexed. Annoyed. Perhaps even a little impressed.Not emotions he was accustomed to. Nor ones he particularly welcomed.
Today, he had called a special meeting. Every Troupe member was expected to attend. They would discuss the recent failures and, more importantly, the unknown threat lurking in the shadows. Glancing at the sleek black-and-gold watch on his wrist, he noted the time. Fifteen minutes until the meeting.
The Troupe’s current hideout was an abandoned office building—worn with age but ideal for their purposes. It provided easy access to Yorknew City and, more importantly, the upcoming gala where the rare artifact, Beso De La Muerte, would be unveiled.That artifact was their next target and this time, there would be no interference. 
He rose from his chair, making his way down the hall toward the lobby where the meeting was set to take place. As he rounded the corner, all the spiders’ eyes fell on him, their conversations and laughter ceasing instantly upon his entry.
Despite the usual lighthearted banter the troupe shared before meetings, today, there was a clear underlying tension in the air.
Chrollo walked toward a slab of collapsed concrete and took a seat, conjuring his book into his hand with nen. He flipped to a page, studying one of the many stolen abilities in his collection, waiting for the last member of the troupe to arrive—Hisoka.
Ten minutes later, the clown finally appeared, a grin stretching across his face as he casually shuffled a deck of playing cards. Chrollo watched as Hisoka leaned against the wall, amused.
Snapping his book shut, Chrollo slowly lifted his gaze to his troupe members. The spiders' eyes immediately locked onto him.
“I assume everyone here is aware of our recent heist failure?”
Tension thickened in the room at his words. No one spoke until Chrollo continued.
“This is becoming a problem, and it needs to be resolved. Shalnark, were you able to find any intel on our rat?”
“No, Boss. It’s actually quite impressive. I’ve found no bugs, taps, or crypto trails. It’s unlikely they’re gathering intel on us through technological surveillance,” Shalnark stated in his usual upbeat tone.
Immediately, Nobunaga spoke up, loud as always, his grip tightening on his katana.
“Well, that means one of us is a traitor! Someone is feeding information to our enemies. And it just so happens that this all started right when the clown joined us.”
Closing the distance, hand still on his katana, Nobunaga stepped toward Hisoka.
Hisoka, smirking, remained leaning against the wall, shuffling his cards effortlessly.
“Oh, Nobunaga, how you wound me,” he said, feigning offense. “I prefer my games to be more... direct.”
That was all it took to ignite Nobunaga’s already short fuse. He unsheathed his katana and lunged at Hisoka, blade aimed at his side. But before his weapon could connect, Nobunaga was suddenly teleported across the room, stumbling as he struggled to regain his balance.
“Enough.”
Chrollo’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.
“Nobunaga, you know there is no fighting among troupe members.”
The sharp snap of Chrollo’s book echoed in the room, a clear sign of his growing irritation.
"Turning against one another is foolish and will yield no results. What do we know about them so far?"
Machi spoke up with a strictly analytical approach. "Whoever it is has connections—good ones at that. They managed to tip off the Verosian Museum, which is known for prioritizing input from the upper class and frequent donors. If the informant were a nobody, the museum wouldn’t have given their tip a second thought."
Everyone considered this for a moment before Feitan spoke up.
"Underlings know nothing. Just cry for help, say no one knows who tip off."
Chrollo sat in thought, his expression unreadable, but it was clear he was processing the information carefully.
"Shalnark, check the museum’s records for important customers and recent donors. Also, look into recent donations and see if there are any correlations. Feitan, Phinks—get the museum director. Feitan, make him talk. I want this matter resolved."
With a grin, Shalnark pulled out his computer and started hacking into the museum’s database. "On it, Boss. If there’s anything there, I’ll find it."
Phinks stood up, smirking. "We’ll bring him in, Boss. Hear that, Feitan? You’re gonna lose our bet. You can’t take the curator’s tongue if he can’t speak."
Feitan rolled his eyes with an annoyed "tch." "Make talk, then take tongue. If no talk, force to write—after few broken fingers."
Machi chimed in again, something clearly bothering her. "Boss, have we checked ourselves? Our belongings?"
Hisoka’s voice, dripping with intrigue, cut in. "Oh~ Machi, dear, are you suggesting one of us may be the traitor without even knowing it? If so, this game just became so much more exciting. I can't wait to meet its curator."
With an annoyed sigh and an eyeroll, Machi continued her train of thought as Chrollo listened intently.
"It’s just a hunch, but someone has tipped off our targets three times now—each time for a different heist. They have all the details in advance, enough to alert the targets. That would typically indicate a traitor among us feeding information to the enemy. However, we’ve all been together on missions recently. No one has had the time to leak intel without getting caught. The only common factor in each of these instances is the people involved in carrying out the jobs."
A collective realization settled over the troupe. The possibility made sense.
Chrollo picked up where Machi left off. "That would explain why Shalnark found no bugs or tracking devices in our hideouts. We never thought to check ourselves. Whoever is behind this is clearly out for revenge—targeting our heists directly. It would also make sense for them to sow doubt among us, making it seem like we have a traitor when, in reality, there isn’t one."
He paused, deep in thought, clearly intrigued by their enemy’s tactics.
Then, with finality, he issued his next command.
"Everyone, check yourselves and your belongings for anything out of place."
The troupe obeyed immediately, inspecting their clothing and belongings for anything unusual. Chrollo ran his hands over his garments, meticulously checking every inch for bugs or listening devices.
A low, amused chuckle echoed through the hideout, drawing every Spider’s gaze toward the clown. Hisoka smirked, plucking a small red button from his shirt and holding it up between his fingers.
“Well, well~ would you look at that,” he mused.
The troupe stared at the object in confusion. It looked like an ordinary button—nothing more, nothing less. But Chrollo’s sharp eyes caught the faint traces of Nen radiating from it, a detail nearly impossible to detect unless one was specifically looking. On a powerful Nen user like Hisoka, whose aura naturally masked such subtleties, it was an impressive deception.
Hisoka twirled the button between his fingers as Chrollo regarded him with suspicion. “Our new friend keeps getting more interesting. They must have planted this on me at some point,” he mused.
Shizuku tilted her head, as confused as ever. “Isn’t that just a button?”
“Use your Gyo and look closely,” Chrollo instructed.
They did as told, activating their enhanced vision. Almost instantly, the button’s faint aura became visible.
Nobunaga’s expression darkened, and in an instant, he was on the move, his hand gripping the hilt of his katana. “You knew it was there! You’re working with the rat—I know it!”
As amused as ever, Hisoka chuckled. “Can’t say that I am~ as entertaining as that would be. Besides, none of you noticed it either.”
Nobunaga faltered, stammering. “Well, uh… it was on you, so… I guess you’re not wrong.”
Chrollo’s eyes remained fixed on the button. “Hisoka, let me examine it. I want to analyze the aura.”
But before he could take a step, Hisoka grinned deviously and crushed the button between his fingers, the aura dissipating into nothing.
“Oh~ my bad. Didn’t realize my own strength,” he purred.
A wave of irritation washed over the room. Many of the troupe members looked outright furious, but Chrollo remained composed, though his gaze lingered on Hisoka’s hand, scrutinizing his every move.
Uvogin’s boisterous laughter filled the space. “Well, guess we’ll just have to find them directly then! Boss, what’s the plan?” He rubbed his hands together eagerly, awaiting orders.
Chrollo, still lost in thought, found the situation more troubling than ever. It was clear to him now—Hisoka was involved. No one could get close enough to plant something on the clown without him noticing. That would be far too risky. Which meant their enemy had to have been nearby at all times, skillfully blending into the crowd around the troupe, their presence undetected.
Whoever they were, they were dangerous.
And they had just personally outmaneuvered Chrollo with their little button trick.
This person either knew Nen or was affiliated with someone who did—especially if Hisoka was covering for them. Hisoka had confirmed Chrollo’s suspicion by destroying the button. That meant there was something traceable on it, something Hisoka had a reason to eliminate. Which also meant their enemy was bold—brazen enough to be lurking close by, watching, waiting, challenging.
Chrollo’s expression darkened, but a small smirk played on his lips.
“It’s simple,” he declared. “We wait. They’ll come to us.”
York New Central District
A loud ring echoed throughout the typically silent room. You glanced down at your phone to check the caller ID—Hisoka. With a sigh, you reached for the device and picked up.
You were never particularly fond of Hisoka; he was a bit too much for your liking. However, you were well aware that he had his uses.
“Ah~ Y/N, what have you been up to?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement.
“Nothing that concerns you, Hisoka. What do you want?” Your tone remained cold, betraying nothing.
“Ah, but dear, it does concern me when you plant a device on me. Not very nice of you not to tell me. After all, it almost caused a fight.”
Even through the phone, you could hear the interest in his voice and almost feel his bloodlust at the mere mention of a “fight.”
“Oh, but we both know you love it. Besides, telling you would have ruined the fun—and the surprise.” You picked up a small button, tossing it idly in your free hand.
A chuckle drifted through the receiver as he replied, “Well, you're lucky I destroyed that button before they could trace the nen. I mean, after all, one of your favorite toys—I mean friends—might have been at risk.”
“That would have been an inconvenience. Toro’s surveillance buttons do have their benefits. But everyone is expendable to a degree. I suppose you’re going to tell me I owe you now?”
“How did you know~?” His voice practically purred with amusement before he continued. “Well, what I want is a rather delicious little idea.”
You remained silent as he let his words sink in.
“Our good friend figured out that you’ve been in range and is expecting you to be at our next heist. You see, that is exactly what I want to see.”
“Why would I make such a careless move?” You were blunt as always, but Hisoka only seemed to grow more excited.
“Well, in this case, you don’t have a choice. It’s quite simple, really, sweetheart—you will be at our next job. And do make it entertaining. I want some direct interaction. That will settle our little debt.”
His voice lowered, dripping with honeyed amusement. “And if you don’t… well, there are so many possibilities. But I must admit, I’m leaning towards keeping you for myself. Especially after that last little stunt. You’re starting to catch my eye.”
Beneath his playful tone, the underlying threat was clear—an attempt to shake you.
Perhaps, years ago, it would have worked. But you had been in this game long enough to know how to keep the upper hand. Still, Hisoka’s interest in you was not something you wanted to encourage.
So, you would play along—let him think he had thrown you off your game for now. 
"Guess I don’t have a choice then," you muttered.
Hisoka chirped, "So glad we’re on the same page! Plus, isn’t it so much more entertaining to interact with him directly anyway?"
"The details, Hisoka," you said, irritation clear in your tone.
"Ah, no fun as always. All business and advantages... just like him."
Those words set you off. How dare Hisoka imply you were anything like that selfish monster—Chrollo.
"I am nothing like him, and I never will be. Chrollo Lucilfer is a monster. He deserves to suffer, and I will make sure he does."
You could practically envision the smirk spreading across Hisoka’s face.
"Ah~ there you are, Y/N. I can practically taste your bloodlust for him. Oh, and it really gets me going. But I do wonder… what exactly did he do to make you hate him so?"
"The. Details. Hisoka."
Your fuming tone made it obvious—you weren’t playing around anymore.
"Fine~" he drawled. "Two weeks from now, there will be a grand masquerade ball to unveil a new artifact. The Troupe will be there of course, to steal it. But I’m sure you already knew that, didn’t you?"
"I’ll be there." you stated. 
Some chatter in the distance started to echo through the receiver, followed by Hisoka’s teasing voice.
"Well then, Y/N, be there. I’ll have Lumi get you a ticket, of course. I do look forward to our next encounter."
With that, the line went dead, leaving you alone once again in your room, still rolling the button between your fingers.
God, you really hated that clown. He did nothing but get under your skin, always knowing exactly which buttons to push. Still, having him as an ally made gathering intel a lot easier. The deal you had struck wasn’t so bad either. But whether he would betray you or not… that remained to be seen.
One thing was certain—you sure as hell didn’t trust him. And that was the smart decision.
You made your way across the room toward your dresser, where a white box sat atop. But it wasn’t the box itself that held your attention—it was what lay inside.
A custom masquerade mask, meticulously crafted for the upcoming ball.
It was a beautiful piece. The base gleamed with golden swirls that highlighted the eyes and lips, while a striking golden cross sat perfectly at the center, red gems embedded at each of its points. At any ordinary masquerade, this mask would have drawn attention. But at this event, it was certain to catch his eye.
You had everything planned. You would attend the ball, and you would finally make your debut to Chrollo. You wanted to see his face when you pointed out just how many times he had lost—how, despite all his efforts, he had been outmaneuvered at every turn. If he was already expecting you, why not make a grand entrance? It would only make the sting of another failed heist even worse.
A chuckle escaped your lips. What a fun game this was.
Thanks to Toro, you had been watching the Troupe for a while now, observing just how much these repeated failures were affecting them. The growing distrust, the tension—it was everything you had wanted. But the true prize was how it was affecting Chrollo.
He might have looked impassive, his expression unreadable, but his actions told another story. He was reviewing his plans over and over, searching for the moment where things had gone wrong. Scouring records and security footage of past heists. Asking himself the same question, again and again—what was the mistake?
That was the feeling you wanted to instill in him. That doubt. That uncertainty. That creeping sense of incompetence—the very same he had once made you feel.
You wanted him—and his Troupe, his so-called family—to suffer. Just like they had made you and Sumi suffer.
And now, the consequences of your actions were beginning to ripple outward. Whispers in the underground had begun to surface, questioning the Troupe’s strength, their competence. It was tempting to let it get to your head—to get cocky. But you knew better than to act recklessly.
A masquerade ball, though? How could you pass up the perfect opportunity to reintroduce yourself to your old enemy? Every detail had been accounted for. Every piece of the setup was perfect.
You were well aware of how dangerous Chrollo was. Being in his vicinity, even for a moment, carried a risk. But you still had your trump card—your Nen ability. And in the worst-case scenario? If you were to die there and then? As long as your plan came to fruition— You would die with a smile.
The stage was set, and the game was about to begin—one that neither of you would ever forget.
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