#first time properly drawing blue eyes

[poreyneel]

I binge-watched The Bear...

[asaka-lucy-dr-rc]

わー！！拓海くんの立ち絵きたー！ ほらやっぱちゃんと3つアホ毛あるように見える！よかった😂 I’m glad to see Takumi’s sprite! See! He has three ahoge!

前に���いたやつはほぼPVを参考にして描いたん��すけど概ねち���んと合ってましたね The ones I drew before were mostly based on the first trailer, but they were generally correct.

[kbwrites]

Heated Waters

synopsis: being married is hard, being married without seeing each other is even harder.

⚝ content: Hiromi Higuruma x F! Reader, nsfw, bathtub sex, fingering, Hiromi neglects his wife, but boy does he make up for it

⚝ wc: 1.9k

“Yeah we do it pretty much every day.”

Satoru said, taking a leisurely sip of his water. His pale face alight with mischief, a shit-eating grin across his lips. His three coworkers stared at him in (jealousy) disbelief.

Suguru was the first to break the silence, wanting to save face “Everyday is a bit much, isn’t it, Satoru?”

Satoru chuckled, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he watched his friend squirm. "What about you guys? How often do our married friends get it in?" His gaze flickered to Nanami, who cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, his eyes fixed on the steam rising from his coffee cup.

“Twice a week, I suppose…”

Satoru's smile widened, clearly entertained by the responses he was drawing out. He then turned his attention to the oldest among them, Hiromi Higuruma, who was carefully straightening his tie, a subtle attempt to avoid eye contact.

“What about you, Higuruma?”

“Your wife, (Y/N) is a little younger than you, right? C’mon Higuruma-San…She a total freak?” Satoru teased.

Hiromi's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as his grip on his coffee cup tightened. He took a slow, measured breath, his voice strained but controlled when he finally spoke.

“Please don’t talk about my wife like that.”

But Satoru, ever the instigator, didn’t back down. “It’s just us guys riiggght? And I can’t lie Higuruma, you’re one lucky guy. (Y/N) is a catch.”

Nanami nodded in agreement, as did Suguru, though both seemed to sense the discomfort growing in Hiromi. The older man could only sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the conversation.

It was true—you were everything he could have ever wanted in a partner. Beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted—his perfect match. If heaven existed, Hiromi was certain you’d be the only one worthy of it.

But long nights in the office, and early mornings preparing for court would take a toll on any relationship. The truth was… Hiromi hadn’t touched you in over a month. By the time he came home—you were fast asleep, and weekends were spent running the mountain of errands you couldn’t get to during the week. You loved each other of course, but it was hard. A month without feeling the warmth of your husband's hands all over your skin was starting to weigh heavily on both of you.

“You don’t have to answer Higuruma-san..” Nanami chimed in, sensing his elder colleague’s discomfort.

“Over a month.” Hiromi exhaled, the truth slipping out before he could stop it.

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

“WHAT?” Gojo audibly gasps. “Your wife looks like THAT and you haven’t f—”

Suguru swiftly cut him off with a well-placed elbow to the chest. “Satoru… leave Higuruma alone.” The long-haired male warns. “Still, that is surprising.”

“I know I know..” Higuruma pinches his bridge. He wanted nothing more than to have his wife under him… on top of him. But the endless stream of work kept him trapped in a cycle of exhaustion. “I’ve been so busy I can’t even remember the last time I actually spoke to her properly.”

Suguru offered an apologetic smile. “Sounds like you need a break.”

“Sounds like you need some puss—” Nanami quickly elbowed Satoru in the chest before he could finish his sentence.

Hiromi shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle as he ran a hand through his dark locks, clearly frustrated with himself. “I appreciate your concern, guys, but I don’t see how I can take a break right now. I have so much work to do, and I’m the only one who knows how to handle all of it.”

“Higuruma-San. Satoru will take care of the paperwork for you.” Nanami suggested with a deadpan expression.

“HUH?” Satoru blurted out, clearly caught off guard by the sudden assignment.

“Yeah,” Nanami continued, ignoring Satoru’s protest. “It’s not like he actually does any work around here anyway.”

Suguru smirked, nodding in agreement. “That’s true. You might as well make yourself useful, Satoru.”

Before Hiromi could protest, the trio moved in unison—Suguru grabbing Hiromi’s briefcase, Nanami steering him toward the door, and Satoru sighing dramatically as he resigned himself to the task.

“Are… are you boys sure about this? I don’t want to burden you–”

“Nonsense! Go home and take care of your wife!”

Hiromi placed his briefcase by the door, his tie feeling suddenly too tight around his neck. He loosened it with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around. The familiar scent of home greeted him. It was comforting yet bittersweet, a reminder of all the moments he had missed. The living room was tidy, the soft hum of the dishwasher running in the kitchen. You had clearly been busy, taking care of the house as you always did, even when he wasn’t around.

“Honey?” Hiromi calls out to you, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness.

Frowning, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before making his way down the hall. As he approached the bathroom, he noticed a faint light seeping out from under the door, accompanied by the sound of water gently lapping against the tub.

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened the door.

The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. There you were, reclining in the bathtub, your eyes closed, head resting on the edge as steam rose around you. The soft glow of candles illuminated the room, casting a warm, serene light over your features.

You looked so peaceful, so beautiful—that it almost hurt to look at you. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he took in the sight, but the guilt and longing only deepened. How long had it been since he’d taken the time to appreciate you like this? Since he’d been able to just… be with you?

You opened your eyes, gaze meeting your husband as he leaned against the door frame.

“Hiromi?” you murmured, your voice soft, almost questioning, as if unsure whether he was really there or just a figment of your imagination.

“Hey Honey…” his voice equally soft, as he took a tentative step closer. The warmth of the room seemed to wrap around him, melting away some of the day’s stress.

“You’re home early.” You muse, looking at him as you rested your arms on the tub. He doesn’t respond, just walks towards you with purposeful steps.

Hiromi stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.“The guys decided I need a break.” He paused, his breath hitching slightly as he continued, “Can I join you?” A playful smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Only if you take off your clothes this time.”

A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he unbuttons his dress shirt, letting each article of clothing fall to the tile floor. As he finally sheds his boxers before settling behind you. You exhaled softly, the tension you’d been holding onto for weeks dissipating as you sank into your husband’s embrace.

Hiromi didn’t waste a moment, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck, placing lazy, lingering kisses along the curve where your shoulder met your throat. His breath was warm against your skin, his kisses slow and unhurried, as if savoring every second, every inch of you.

His hands weren’t idle either, tracing gentle patterns along your stomach, moving upwards to cup your breasts with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He nipped lightly at your earlobe, his voice a husky murmur, “I’ve missed you… more than you know.”

“Missed you too ‘Romi..” Your voice trembling as the almost foreign heat began to pool in your core.

Deft fingers teased your nipples, rolling and pinching—eliciting a soft moan from your lips as your body arched into his touch. Your hand reached back, tangling in his dark locks, pulling him closer as his lips traveled down to your shoulder, his other hand snaking under the water to your aching cunt.

“ahhhh… s-shitt..” You cry out as Hiromi’s fingers slowly circle your swollen bud. His touch light, teasing.

“Thirty-two days… I’m so sorry m’love.” He mumbles into your shoulder as he slips a slender digit into your entrance. Your walls flutter immediately around the intrusion, as he gently pumped into you.

He adds another finger, curling up to the spot he had neglected all those weeks. He extended his thumb to rub your clit. You arch your back against him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass.

“Hiro…” you moan, reaching behind for him, but he bites down lightly on your shoulder.

“Not yet, pretty girl, want you t’cum first okay?”

He whispers as he feels your gummy walls clench around him.

He speeds up his ministrations, digits stuffing your cunt as your pussy throbs and squelches. Your whimpers echo around the tiled walls, water lapping around your bodies.

You feel the pressure building as each thrust of his long fingers brush against your g-spot.

“g-gonna cum!”

“Cum f’me sweetheart please—god… need it so bad.” Hiromi mumbles as he pumps even faster.

“a-ahh!” you cry as you reach your high, walls clenching as you cum on your husband’s hand. He removes his fingers from you, moving to gently circle your clit as you come down from your orgasm.

You both stay there for a moment, your heavy breathing the only sound occupying the space, mingling with the gentle slosh of water against the porcelain tub. Hiromi’s arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer.

Slowly, he lifted you, the warm water swirling around you both as he maneuvered you to face him, settling you on his lap. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your knees pressing against the cool sides of the tub.

You straddled Hiromi, your bodies now fully aligned, chest to chest. Your husband's dark, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, his expression a mixture of raw need and unspoken tenderness. He let his hands rest on your waist for a moment, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your damp skin as he took in the sight of you.

“I don’t know how I’ve stayed away from you for so long…” his voice breaking slightly as if the admission pained him.

Your breath hitched as you shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the tension between you intensify. Hiromi’s hands slid up your sides, his touch deliberate and slow, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as his lips finally found yours. The kiss was deep, full of hunger that had been simmering between you both for far too long.

His grip on your waist tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that left you dizzy with need.

Breaking the kiss, Hiromi leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

Without a word, he rose from the tub, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. Water cascaded down your bodies, pooling at your feet as he carried you toward the bedroom, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck.

He laid you gently onto the bed, your back sinking into the soft silken sheets, but Hiromi didn’t waste any time. His gaze darkening as he climbed over you, his body hovering just above yours, his eyes drinking you in like a man starved.

“I’m going to make up for every second I’ve missed.”

[pasukiyo]

I WANT YOUR VIDEO

college baseball player!leon x f!reader word count: 3,836 warnings: sex tape, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v sex with seemingly creampie, hint of corruption kink, leon's kind of an fboy if you squint, brief spanking synopsis: you've just gotten a brand new video camera and leon intends to use it properly...

 “Shit, shit, shit!”

 She curses through gritted teeth as she repeatedly jabs her finger against the record button, sliding her hand through the handle on the side of the small device, hastily bringing the viewfinder to her right eye. She quickly finds Leon where he stands in his ready position at third base just in time, as the batter swings and hits a ground ball that heads straight for him. 

 She gasps and her breath hitches, and she holds it in her throat as the scene seems to unravel in slow motion. Leon scoops the ball into his glove and shuffles into his throwing motion, her camcorder follows the ball as it soars through the air towards the first baseman and into his glove. 

 The runner only hits first base a second after the ball hits the glove. 

 Leon’s won the game. 

 She moves the viewfinder away from her eye to throw both hands in the air, her cheer emitting more as a shrill scream as the bleachers erupt into an uproar of applause. She watches Leon as his face splits into a grin, jumping in the air and pumping his fist in the air as his teammates crowd around him, banging their fists on his back, their palms on the top of his head. 

 She laughs and aims the camera back down to them, watching through the viewfinder as Leon disappears behind a wall of cheering baseball players. The wall crumbles only for a moment as two men dump the contents of a water cooler over Leon’s head, his dark blonde hair flattening against his forehead and beads of water drip down his face as he lifts his head and hollers. 

 People begin to make their way down from the stands and towards the field, which she takes as her cue to cut the recording to make her own way down to the dugout. She does her best to slither her way past the sea of bodies before her and she rolls onto the tips of her toes, searching for Leon between heads. She huffs, pursing her lips as she decides to just wait for him to find her until she feels a pair of hands on her waist and she shrieks as she’s lifted up into the air. 

 Someone hollers behind her and she kicks out with her feet, squirming to try and get a glimpse over her shoulder. 

 “Leon!” She whines as she’s finally set onto the ground and spun around, a hand on the small of her back drawing her into his chest. A mixture of water and sweat drops from Leon Kennedy’s forehead to the tip of her nose and she wrinkles it, reaching up with her free hand to wipe it away. “Gross. You’re all sticky and sweaty.”

 In a sea of dark blue, there seems to be a reflection of a star, one she’s become all too familiar with. She narrows her eyes at the mischievous gleam in his eyes as he scrunches his nose, nudging her forehead with his. 

 “Don’t give me that,” he whispers, drawing his mouth to hers. “You know you love it,” he says against her lips and she rolls her eyes, locking her arms around his neck. “You wish, Leon Kennedy,” she mutters back, unable to help the curving of her lips as Leon practically swallows them with his, groaning into her mouth. 

 The sheer force of Leon’s kiss nearly makes her drop the camera and after only a fleeting moment, she pulls away, hyper aware of the fact that they were most definitely not alone. 

 “You almost made me drop my brand new camera,” she complains, unraveling her arms from around his neck to fuss with her camera, willing the blood in her cheeks to cool down. Leon moans against the crown of her head, pressing a kiss to her skin.

 “Wouldn’t want that,” he murmurs, pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Their eyes meet again and her bottom lip quivers against his fingers because suddenly she knows what that roguish glint in his eyes earlier means. He leans in closer until their noses almost touch, “haven’t even gotten to put it to good use yet.”

 

They barely made it through the door of Leon’s dorm before he was already tearing her shirt off. 

 “Leon!” She moans as his kisses trail down her lips and to that delicate patch of skin on her neck that always has her knees wobbling. Her hands find his shoulders and fists a handful of his fresh, clean shirt as he backpedals towards his bedroom, kicking a foot behind him to open the door. He tugs her inside and kicks it back closed behind her, his teeth marking her neck, his forefinger lifting the strap of her bag away from her shoulder. 

 However, before he can absentmindedly toss it to the floor, he blinks, pulling away from her altogether. Her skin is warm and her vision has begun to blur but she blinks throughout, her brows knit as she watches him sift through the contents of her bag. 

 “What are you doing?” She pants and she watches as he finally fishes out what he’d been looking for. “A-ha!” He grins, holding up her brand new video camera. He begins trying to navigate all the different buttons and her spine stiffens at the sight— somehow, in her lust-drunken haze, she’d forgotten all about Leon’s intentions for tonight. 

 She’s not sure if the idea either turns her on more or makes her want to vomit. 

 Either way, there’s an ache between her legs and she swallows, trying to resist the urge to press her thighs together to quell it. 

 “Leon, you’re not seriously…?” She trails off as he finally finds the record button, pressing down on it, sliding his hand through the strap on the side, and holding the camcorder up to face her. She freezes when she realizes she’s being recorded and draws her brows together. “Leon!”

 She lunges, reaching for the camera but he backs away and she can see his toothy, little grin peeking out from the side of the folded-out screen. With the camera aimed at her face, reaches out to cup her cheek, drawing her in for another kiss. 

 “What? Isn’t this what cameras are used for?” He murmurs against her lips and she rolls her eyes, peeking towards the camera from corners of her vision. Leon’s tongue swirls her mouth and she hums into his kiss, already feeling her opposition begin to fade. She pulls away just enough to whisper, “you’re a menace, Leon Kennedy.”

 Her eyes flutter open to find he’s already staring, drawing her further into that dark, lustrous ocean of his that never fails to make liquid of her insides. His breath looms over her face like rolling smoke and she’s sinking with her head below his surface. Her gaze drops to his lips as they curve into a roguish, crooked grin. 

 “And you love it,” he mutters before her lips are enveloped with his again. She moans into his mouth as she cups either side of his face, bringing him in even closer to her orbit. 

 It's primal, the way he kisses her and she matches with equal fervor, fingers gripping locks of hair at the nape of his neck, pulling hard enough to make him groan into her mouth. His hand not preoccupied with the camcorder finds her hip, palming the flesh through her little denim shorts, grounding his bulge into her front. She mewls at the delicious friction as a flame kindles at her core and she pulls away, chest heaving with the weight of her breaths. 

 Leon watches through the viewfinder of the camera as she sinks to her knees before him, fingers hooking over the hem of his sweats. His entire body reacts when his cock springs free from his boxers as they, along with his pants, pool at his ankles. He watches through the little fold-out screen as she blinks up at him, as if she’s a saint, as if she’s nothing short of innocent. 

 She has to know what she’s doing. Leon still remembers that day a few months back in the batting cage, remembers the nervous, stuttering mess of a girl she was then. 

 It was back when she was just a silly girl with a silly little crush— she didn’t ever truly expect anything to come from it. She’d had little to no experience with sex or relationships for that matter, so she learned to keep her fantasies private, her feelings locked away inside a vault. 

 Or so she thought. 

 Until Leon stopped her after chemistry one day to ask for help. Everyone knew she was top of the class, and he’d seen the way she looked at him, sneaking glances when she thought he wouldn’t notice. But to find that she’d been writing his name in the very notebook she lent him?

 He knew he had to have her. 

 And now he does, and now he’s got her on her knees before him, fist wrapped around his cock with a camera practically in her face. It was no secret that she’d changed over the course of the past few months they’d been together, and Leon took great pride in having done the honors of breaking the good girl. 

 Now she was his good girl, conditioned to suck cock like her life depended on it, and fuck, he could come just from that thought alone. 

“Fuck,” he mutters beneath his breath as he watches her lick a long stripe from his sack, up his length, all the way to his tip through the viewfinder. She stares at him— or rather, the camcorder— through her lashes, even as she parts her lips wide enough to take in just the head, the tip of her tongue circling around the slit at the top. Leon’s breath stutters in his chest and he gasps, a gravelly “oh” slipping from his lips.

“Spit on it for me,” he rasps and she complies, gathering saliva on the tip of her tongue, spewing it onto the head. Her fist pumps up and down, coating the entire length with her spit and it’s pornographic, the way Leon throws his head back with a moan. 

 “The whole thing?” She asks, absentmindedly pumping her fist from the base of his dick to just below the head, tilting her head and blinking up at him as if she wasn’t trying to wring his release out of him. He has to sink his teeth into his bottom lip to control himself, snaking his hand not holding the camera around to the back of her head, taking a fistful of her hair between his fingers. 

 “You’re a fuckin’ minx, you know that?” He practically growls and her lips curve against the head of his cock, just before she dips her chin. 

 “You love it,” she uses his own words against him and then her lips part to wrap around him and oh, he’s already overcome with bliss. He has to pray somewhere in the back of his mind that the camcorder is still focused on her because he lolls his head backwards, squeezing his eyelids closed as she slowly takes him into her mouth. 

 He can feel every inch of him being drawn between her lips, all the way until he feels his tip brush the back of her throat and he can feel the way it tightens around him. 

 A filthy, rather embarrassing noise sounds from her efforts and her cheeks warm but Leon doesn’t care, if anything, it only turns him on more. She lifts her head up until just the tip is in her mouth and Leon grants her this one moment to gasp for breath before he’s guiding her back down his length, panting as every single inch of his cock sheaths inside her throat. 

 “Fuck!” He groans, peering back down at her through the camcorder’s screen. He can see her hand raise to wrap around his base just below it and she squeezes, pumping while she swirls her tongue against his tip, bobbing her head up and down as much of the length as she can take. 

 “Shit, that’s it,” he groans, watching as she takes him deeper, her nose against the little, coarse hairs around his base. “Just like that, pretty girl.”

 She whines around him and comes up for air, lips glistening with spit, streams of tears spilling from over the side of her lids. She blinks back the water in her eyes as she gasps for breath and Leon, with his fingers still tangled in her hair, tug her back down into his cock. There’s a knot building in his sack that’s making him start to see white, his release so close he can practically taste it. 

 He almost loses himself in his bliss before he comes to his senses, pulling her mouth off of his cock by the grip in her hair, his cock twitching and slit crying with precum. He pants, cursing beneath his breath as she rocks back on her heels, a string of spit hanging from her bottom lip that she wipes away with the back of her hand. 

 It’s all so filthy and provocative yet so damn erotic. It seems fitting now that they were recording— this is exactly the type of shit you see in the porn videos. 

 She blinks up at him from her spot on the floor and he leans down, kissing her just so he can taste her, humming at the mixture of saliva and precum in her mouth. He pulls away, a bridge of spit stringing between their lips, and turns, stepping out of his boxers and sweats before walking towards his dresser. 

 She eyes him curiously, still panting as she watches him place the camcorder down on the top of his dresser, adjusting the position until he’s certain the lens faces the bed. Blood bites her cheeks and lava oozes at her apex as Leon makes his back towards her, tugging his shirt over his head during the journey. 

 “Off,” his voice drips with authority and he gestures with his chin towards her clothes. His shirt falls to the floor and he’s left naked, save for the silver chain that dangles just above his chest and she swallows at the sight before her, pressing her thighs together as she rises from her place on the ground. 

 Their gazes meet and lock as she grabs the bottom of her shirt— the one she always wears to his games that has his name and number on the back— and Leon greedily takes in the sight before him as she pulls the material over her head. Her denim shorts are the next to go and he, admittedly, watches her breasts over the top of her bra as she bends over to step out of her bottoms, tossing them aside. 

 She’s left in her underwear and her eyes boldly meet his once again, her lids heavy against them, a refulgent white flame in the backdrops of her pupils. Her hands reach around to her back to unclasp her bra and she watches as Leon eyes the way the straps slip down her shoulders, the length of her arms until her breasts are finally on full display. His breath hitches as the lace falls down to the floor and she hooks her fingers tauntingly around the hem of her panties, lifting it up and sliding her fingers back and forth of the expanse of them before at last, she pulls them down her legs until they’re both standing before each other, nude and burning like two stars in supernova. 

 She makes her way back towards Leon, wrapping her hands around the back of his head, drawing herself in until they were close, yet not close enough. 

 “What’s next?” She asks, a corner of her mouth curved in a smirk and Leon’s eyes narrow, the center of his stormy sea expanding until nearly his entire iris is veiled by shadow. 

 “You’ve had your fun,” he says before pushing her towards the bed. She lands with a huff on her stomach and her brows draw together as she peers at him from over her shoulder. “Now I wanna see you on all fours.”

 Again, her core aches at the mere fact of how dominant he is and she can feel her arousal as it drips down her slit as she complies, lifting herself up until she’s on her knees and elbows. It’s a rather embarrassing position, if not risqué, at the least. Knowing she’s being recorded in this position only further makes her skin burn, as well as it makes insides melt, hot magma oozing straight down to her center. 

 The bed dips behind her and she mewls as Leon’s palm slams down onto one side of her ass with a loud smack, the sting deliciously lingering on her flesh. The nearness of him behind her makes her bones rattle and spine erupt in shivers as he runs his palm up and down the expanse of her back. She can feel the head of his cock against her ass, teasing her, taunting her. 

 “Leon…” she whimpers, wiggling her hips backwards in hopes of some sort of friction. Another slap against the other side of her ass makes her body quake and she yelps, balling her fists against the sheets. She catches a glimpse of him over her shoulder as he takes his cock in one hand, slowly pumping up and down his length, a quiet curse slipping from his lips. 

 “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He purrs, reaching forward to trace the line of her jaw with his forefinger. He hunches over her body to press a soft kiss to the side of her mouth and she hums, feeling herself turn into a ball of malleable putty in the palm of his hands. 

 “Yeah?” She says and he chuckles softly, nodding, his nose against her cheek. “Yeah. So, so pretty,” he whispers and she hums again as he pulls away from her face, palm once again soothing over her back. His right hand rests on the left side of her ass and for a moment, it’s peaceful, for a moment, it’s quiet. 

 Then Leon bucks his hips forward and with one thrust, she’s full to the brim. Her lips part to make way for a loud gasp that fully permeates his bedroom and lingers, balling her fists so hard against the sheets, she could feel her nails digging into her palms. 

 “And so, so damn tempting,” he grunts as he pulls back his hips just to piston them back into her again. “A fuckin’ vixen is what you are.”

 Bolts of ecstasy half her ability to make words as Leon sets his pace, his thrusts hard, forceful and fast. It’s truly pornographic— again, making it all too fitting that they’re being recorded— the way he fucks her. He’s like an animal and all this energy has been pent up inside of him for so long, too long. You would have no idea he just played a nearly three hour long baseball game. 

 He’s on a high— from making the last out of the game to being so lucky to have a girl like her on his arm— and he’s pouring every single ounce of that energy into her, into each and every single one of his thrusts. She has to dig her nails into the sheets to keep her body from being driven too far up the bed away from him. 

 His hands find her hips and he uses them as leverage to fuck into her harder, deeper. The sound of their skin slapping together permeates the bedroom, her eyes rolling into the back of her head and her toes curl as the tip of his cock repeatedly hits that spongy spot deep inside of her deliciously. Over and over and over and over again does he find that spot and it’s sooner rather than later that she feels herself burning, that kindling that had once been a small flame at the pit of her belly now fully blossomed into a wildfire, wreaking havoc across her ovaries. 

 “Le… Lee… Leon!” She cries, feeling tears brim and sting the outline of her lids as he mutters curses underneath his breath, making it his sole mission to utterly destroy her with his cock. “Slow down or I’m gonna… I’m gonna…! Oh, fuck!”

 She hears him laugh behind her, bending over her body— all whilst maintaining his speed— to press a tender kiss to the center of her spine. 

 “That’s kind of the point,” he says against her back, lips curved into an impish grin against her skin. She can feel drool fall from her mouth down to her chin and she prays that the camcorder can’t pick this embarrassing detail up as she clenches around him, his dick having coaxed her so close to her peak. 

 Leon lifts away from her back and barks a curse when she tightens around him, his hips stuttering. “Gonna take me down with you, huh?” He growls, bucking his hips harder and harder and harder into her until she begins to crack like the shell of an egg, her orgasm spilling through the jagged lines like the yolk. 

 She succumbs to blinding white, hot bliss and she shudders, Leon leaning over her to wrap his arms around her waist as he, too, is overtaken by the sheer power of his release. “Leon!” She moans, either of their noises echoing off the four walls of his room and she hopes somewhere in the back of her mind that his roommate, Carlos, is not home to further be exposed to their coition. 

 Leon’s hips finally still and he simply holds her through either of their orgasms, his chest flush to her back. She can feel his dick twitch inside of her and she mewls, feeling his fingers brush through her hair, his lips finding her ear. 

 He presses a kiss to the shell before he whispers, “okay?”

 It’s hard to speak through her panting but she manages to nod, her eyelids feeling heavy as they fall over her eyes. “Okay,” she replies and she simply lays there on her stomach, Leon on her back. The room smells of sex and perspiration but at its core, it smells like Leon, like home. His warmth is like the fire in a hearth on a cold winter's day and she hums as fatigue washes over her, lulling her towards a temporary slumber. 

 Leon groans from behind her and she feels him lift off of the bed, albeit reluctantly. Her nose wrinkles in displeasure but she does not lift her head, does not even open her eyes. She’s simply too tired, but before she drifts away to sleep, she hears a string of curses being said beneath Leon’s breath. 

 “Shit, shit, shit! How the fuck do you turn this thing off?”

a/n; teehee i'm so happy so many of you enjoyed the first baseball player leon fic, so here's a treat! wrote this up while freezing my tits off in the bathtub 😘

📹 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it means the entire world to me 🫶

TAGLIST

@chaoticevilbakugo

@luckypurins

@corruptcoder

@glovesandhorror

@angelstargel

@illsksm

@echo1200

@d3adp00ls

@woahhajime

@leonkennedygvrl

@elliewilliamshotwife

@altissia-09

@danigirls-missions

@cherrylipscrystalskies1

[nebulousmoon3990]

GHOSTS OF THE PAST (Batfam x neglected hero reader)

II𓂃› POISON

Warning: Negligence (unintentional), Damian being Damian, violence, swearing, sensitive topics,bad things, spelling mistakes (English is not my first language) and reader has black hair and blue eyes (sorry), Fem reader!, use of (M/n) for his mother's name, I accept criticism but please don't be rude, everything is fictional!

Two weeks.It had been two weeks since you disappeared, two weeks in which Bruce did and still does everything he can to find you (as the millionaire Bruce Wayne or as Batman), two weeks in which he and possibly no one in the mansion slept properly, two weeks in which guilt gnawed at him in the worst possible way. But even so, Bruce is ashamed to say that in these two weeks he has only been going to his room now.

Could you blame him? Bruce didn't want to go to his room because that would be a way of saying that you died. He refuses to think that way, you are alive, he is sure of it, and he will find you.

However, Bruce's thesis was shattered by his anxiety.

That's why he goes to your room for the first time.

Bruce remembers going there only once, you must have been seven years old, what saddens him the most is that he only went there because there was a problem with the ceiling and that's why you had to change rooms. Your room was on the second floor, a little further away from the others, possibly the room closest to yours was Tim's.

Alfred had to show him where his room was, which made Bruce feel even worse. He didn't know where his own room was! Was he so negligent to that point?

Your room was at the end of the hallway, the only thing that identified it was a guitar sticker on the door, it was faded and dented, possibly having been there for years, wood splinters were visible on the door and the metals on it were very rusty.

Grabbing the doorknob, Bruce hesitated to open it, the logical part of his brain warning that you might feel uncomfortable with him invading your room like that, but his desire spoke louder, gathering courage Bruce opened the door slowly and faced the environment. He was greeted with a sweet smell that reminded him of artificial strawberries, coming from the entire room and Bruce thought that maybe this was the smell you had passed many times.

The first thing he noticed was the appearance of your room, it was smaller than most of the rooms in the mansion. Your bed was next to the window, giving you a view of the mansion's garden, next to the small bed was a nearly empty study table, on it papers and colored pencils were in the corner organized so as not to have a mess, a small swivel chair was there, there were tears and poorly washed stains, but it seemed like you used it a lot. Above the table on the wall were posters of bands and other things, but what caught Bruce's attention was not that, no, it wasn't.

There were trophies, certificates and awards on top of his shelves.

There were so many, so many, that Bruce thought it was his mind playing tricks on him, but it soon proved to be true when he approached the said shelves. There were trophies for gymnastics, literature, computing, swimming, there were awards for drawing, music, and even jiu-jitsu.

Each one was accompanied by a photo of you, photos that were supposed to be taken with your family but most of them were with your instructors, it was possible to see that with each photo that there was your face changed from false joy to not even bothering to smile.

The sight of you in the photos made Bruce's heart break, the worst one of all was one that looked like you were from gymnastics, but in this one you were really exhausted. Sweat was all over your forehead, making your hair stick to it, your eyes were a little red and there was a bruise on your arm, you tried to smile but it was noticeable that the smile was fake and to top it off, to break Bruce's heart? You were holding back tears, tears shining in the corners of your eyes so intensely, but you held it tight, so as not to cry in front of the camera.

Bruce felt horrible, really awful in fact.

He carefully picked up the photo and sat down on the chair, watching you. You must have been eight or nine years old? He didn't know, but you looked so young, so helpless, but you already looked so... broken. As if you knew the weight of the world, the weight that life brought.

He straightened up in the chair and looked at the room again, seeing the back of his room where the wardrobe was. Bruce noticed that next to the large piece of furniture there was a box, almost as worn as the sticker on the door, he got up from the chair leaving the photo on the table next to him, walking over to the box and picking it up with ease. Preferring to sit on the bed instead of the chair he opened the cardboard box to find a computer and a pen drive.

Bruce, so immersed in his thoughts, barely noticed that while he was turning on the old device, someone else was entering the room.

“Bruce?” The aforementioned looked up to see Dick. Looking at his son, he realized how worn out Dick was, whether it was the deep bags under his eyes or the messy hair from so much grabbing and pulling. “What are you doing here?”

“I…” came to see my daughter’s room? Came to try to feel less guilty? Came to try to comfort myself in my pain of not having protected my own daughter? Bruce didn’t know what to answer, fortunately, Dick understood this and decided to see for himself. Carefully, Grayson entered the room and observed with interest, his gaze stopping at the same shelves of trophies that Bruce was interested in, the small smile on Grayson’s face disappeared when he discovered the real reason for the trophies being there.

“W-wait, is that from gymnastics?” Dick looked closer, seeing on the table the same photo Bruce had taken, his anxious eyes roaming the entire shelf, observing his every victory in detail. “Is that all of…(name)?”

“Yeah, and all of hers, all the effort we never saw.” Bruce turned his focus back to the computer, the anguish in his words reminding him of his mistake, while Dick sank in guilt as Bruce himself decided to look at the computer’s contents.

It looked like it hadn't been used for a while, there was dust on the computer and the screen was broken, putting the pen drive in the device a folder appeared on the screen, Bruce clicked and the loading screen appeared on the screen, while it was loading Bruce felt his oldest son sitting next to him, watching the computer next to him and as soon as the loading was finished the two men came across photos.

Very, very old photos of you.

Photos of you as a baby at various points in your childhood outside the mansion, there was a photo of you walking while smiling at the camera, a photo of you sleeping on the couch drooling all over it, a photo of you drinking while wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, and many others.

Bruce heard Dick sigh when he saw you, he had to hold himself back from melting right there, you looked so cute with your chubby cheeks and bright eyes. He wished he could be there at that moment, seeing you so cute, taking care of you, being the father he never was.

But time has passed, you've grown up and are gone now.

Bruce shook off his thoughts when he saw a different photo, in it you had the corners of your mouth covered in what he assumed was chocolate, your hands were covered in the same candy, but what caught Bruce's attention wasn't that, but the woman behind you holding you while laughing at your lameness.

your mother

(M/n) (Last name)

He remembers the woman, kind and caring, a writer from outside Gotham, and although it is strange that she preferred Gotham to live in (with so many other cities more protected than it is), she reached her peak of fame, which made them meet. Just one night with her, nothing more, an affair that didn't go ahead and in which he thought he would forget about her, only for a year later she sends him a letter, talking about you, his daughter.

She didn't ask for anything, not even alimony for herself, she just asked him not to interfere in her daughter's life, although Bruce found the request strange he accepted, being too busy with work to care, he didn't give it due importance at the time.

That was until (M/n) died, her sudden death made him bring you to his house, he fought for custody of you with your aunt, but since he was the one best able to raise you, your custody was given to him.

That was many years ago, he doesn't remember you bringing this computer.

Oh.

Do you keep the computer to remember your mother?

The articles were old, wouldn't it be better to transfer the photos to your cell phone? Or didn't you want to? Maybe you would prefer to keep the computer to remember your memories.

Dick shifted beside him, looking again at the immense trophies on his shelf. “We had her here, and we just ignored her.”

“Dick—”

“We had a diamond in the rough, shining brightly for us, and we just ignored it, and now that she’s gone…” Bruce said nothing, there was nothing to say.

Dick was right.

They had lost a precious stone.

And there was no way to get her back.

Three months.

Nothing about you, no clues, no trails, nothing made it even more difficult because the bus you were on was burned, even if it was left there were no fingerprints, DNA or anything else that would lead them to you.

Dick had to go back to Blüdhaven, continuing his own investigation there. Bruce, knowing that he couldn't do it alone (not this time), put his pride aside and warned the members of the league about your disappearance.

Clark, in an effort to find you, published an article in the Daily Planet about your disappearance, but not even that helped in his search.

The members of the League were alert in each of their cities, looking for clues about you, but nothing came to them, not the organization that kidnapped you or your possible whereabouts.

It was as if you had disappeared from the earth.

Six months.

The police were getting sloppy, probably already giving up on the case. Bruce was still investigating, but how was he going to get deeper into the case if the clues that led to you had disappeared into the wind like dust on the ground?

All he had were your desperate calls for help, your messages, but they led nowhere, your device destroyed without its location.

The family had become more depressed, as if something was missing for everyone present, the immense loneliness in the mansion showing who was missing.

You.

One year.

The case was closed, with nothing to investigate, the Gotham police had more problems to deal with than a missing and possibly dead teenager.

There was… nothing. 

Nothing to say, nothing to do, nothing to look for.You were gone.

A long time ago.

What they didn't know was that you weren't gone, but you were there.

“Alright, alright, I think we’re done for today, right?”

The iron-tasting liquid once again rose up in her bile, making the blood in her throat gush out of her mouth, choking her.

The room they were in, previously white, was now stained crimson, clinging deep into the walls as it reflected the light from the lamp.

In the corner of the room stood you, chained up like a beast (which technically wasn’t a lie now). You lay still as the toxic green liquid entered your veins, the acidity still biting your skin.

Doctor Magnus was the one in front of you, the man with long black hair and golden eyes was watching you dangerously, the loving attitude that many could see as a father educating his son was nothing more than a facade of sadistic malice from the man.

He disgusted you.

They all did.

All of them, all of them, all of them, ALL OF THEM-

Magnus watched as the syringe that connected the tube in your neck finished injecting the toxin into your veins, with the process finished, Magnus approached you and pulled it from your neck.

With the brutality with which he pulled the syringe, you hissed in pain, your abnormally large fangs showing themselves to the doctor, the protective instinct emerging in your brain. Despite the offense, Magnus just smiled at you.

Stepping away from you, he lowered your restraints making you feel a little comfortable. With his fingerprint, the doctor opened the automatic door, before leaving he stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder, his gaze meeting yours.

“Get plenty of rest (Name)…” the man’s smirk widened, the evil coursing through him making her stomach churn with fear.

"Tomorrow your experiments will intensify.”

Okay, I'm a little disappointed (I was hoping to write one more, but I couldn't add anything without it affecting the next chapter), well I'll make up for it in the next chapter.

Here's the tag list \(•◡•)/:

@daiyanomochi - @amber-content - @wizzerreblogs - @foggyv-oid - @kore-of-the-underworld - @theunknowntravel3r - @space1crow - @shortnsweetsposts - @popursocks - @sugasweettea - @salfishers - @itachisank - @jsprien213 - @infirebaby - @yhin-gg -@h-ib

@bunbunboysworld - @h-ib - @sheep-from-rad - @tatsuri-zomushiki - @the-holy-pigeon - @geminis93

sorry for any mistakes.

Bye

[sunshowersanddandelionwine]

au where soap is medically discharged and doesn’t really have a “purpose” anymore. He enlisted so young, and had been in the military for so long that he’s got no fucking idea what to do next. In the end, he moves in with his oldest sister and her kids after his brother-in-law passes away suddenly.

While getting his feet back under him, he takes up drawing again. More seriously this time than just doodles on paperwork and scribbles on briefing notes. But real illustrations. It starts as a way to keep his hands occupied while idle at home, but then it becomes an actual hobby of his. He gets better and better, watching YouTube tutorials to learn things he wouldn’t have picked up otherwise.

It’s his 15 year old niece that gets everything rolling. She (without his knowledge) sets up a social media account to share his art. But a very specific series of art. See, he started illustrating the stories his 5 year old nephew told him. And the art, just like the stories, are mindblowing. Soap didn’t do it for recognition, but his niece insisted on sharing his work with the world.

The account starts to get a following, and when his niece shows it to him he nearly has a breakdown. But then he sees the comments. Parents of kids who feel seen in his art. Young self taught artists feeling seen through him. A whole community of people who connected with his work on such a deeper level than anything he’d expected. So, begrudgingly, he lets her continue to post.

Then comes the storefront. With prints and merch and all sorts of wild ass things he’d never dreamed of. And while the income is modest, it still an income. For a while, a part of him had felt guilty for “mooching” off his sister (despite her protests to the contrary) and now he can really start contributing to the household. Plus, a little bit of each sale gets squirreled away for his niece and nephew. Since without them, this whole thing wouldn’t be happening.

And then the email comes. It’s innocuous at first, something he’s gotten a number of times. The sender asks him if he’s willing to illustrate for an upcoming project with a children’s book author. They’d seen his work online and thought his style would match perfectly with the book. Initially, soap was going to politely decline the offer. As much as he’d come to accept the minor fame he’d gotten online, he didn’t think he was good enough to actually illustrate something for a traditional publication. But then he sees the sender’s signature.

S. Riley.

Not much was known about Riley as a person. Their personal life, much like their first name, was kept down tight under lock and key. But their books were beloved by so many, including Soap and his family. Riley wrote on topics that not a lot of other children’s book authors dared to touch, and not with the deft and delicate hand necessary to properly tackle them. Things like parental abuse, neglect, trauma, death; there wasn’t a subject Riley was scared of, and there wasn’t a subject that they handled with anything less than the utmost grace. Their book on dealing with grief and loss had gotten Soap’s niblings (and his sister, to be perfectly honest) through those first few months after their father’s death.

So, despite his misgivings and anxieties, soap accepts.

(Across the country, one Simon Riley waits with bated breath to see if his nephew Joseph’s (and his) mysterious favorite artist will say yes. For no other reason than professional curiosity. It definitely has nothing to do with the briefest glimmer of a bright blue eye caught in the corner of a recent post.)

[eightstarr]

pacify — sevika.

summary: is it possible to miss a stranger, or does one thing negate the other? maybe you miss sevika because she isn't a stranger, because she stuck her claws far too deep in you and never let go— or just because she looks really fucking good sitting there, looking at you like she's waiting for you to say "hello again".

warnings: mild descriptions of violence, smut (mdni!), pre time jump sevika!

notes: my thesis with this one is that eating out a woman you love will revolutionize you in a way nothing else can and i'm joking but also dead serious. also dear god please me and who… okay bye i love you

・。.・゜✧・. ────

“You know, I’ve always liked this place the best.”

It’s the first thing you remember him saying, blue uniform to match his now slightly reddened eyes, vile alcohol in his breath. You’re at a different bar, not Vander's, the first actual job you ever had if you don't count what came before— the shiny rock of a stranger’s ring in your pocket, another’s gold coins in your bag, all from the quick trips to the city above with your father. “It’s not difficult to steal from a Piltovan,” he’d say, squinting at the engraving on the inside of a sparkly bracelet, a small bounty spread over the kitchen table, “they’re all show, all ego.”

Now watching the smirk on the Enforcer’s face after he downs his fourth glass without taking a breath, a laughable skill for an audience of no one, you find it hard to disagree with your father’s assessment. The well nurtured instinct to wonder what you’d get if you slipped your fingers inside the pockets of his tailored jacket grows loud and tempting in your head, but you shove it away and keep your eyes on the dusty floor you’re meant to sweep, determined to keep this job.

“The drinks are better than up there, I’ll give you that,” the drunk man continued, half empty fifth glass tipped dangerously towards the brooding barman, your only coworker tonight. There’s barely anyone left in the bar at all except a couple regulars. Tension has been brewing through the entirety of your shift, an argument in one of the booths during your first hour, a drink on someone’s face by the third, a wave of tired scoffs when the man in uniform walked in near the end of the night; the last nail on the coffin. In your head, you’ve listed all the possible exits you could use to escape enough times to memorize them.

The man takes a surprisingly controlled sip, thin lips furrowed in a grimace. “Wish it was enough to make up for that fucking stench.”

The air in Zaun is different to foreigners. You’ve never minded it the way they do. It's your air, the first to ever fill your lungs, the one you’re so used to that you can feel the way it shifts— the way it becomes a stench, as he called it, when blood is about to be spilt.

The barman does, to his credit, offer you the chance to leave. Or orders it, morelike, his sharp eyes meeting yours and then a tilt of his head towards the door. Maybe he pities you for the nerves splashed all over your face, or maybe he’d just find it a shame to lose an employee he hired barely a month ago. “You. Out.”

“Out?” the Piltovan repeats, turning his head, his voice grossly high pitched. “Why? What's gonna happen now?” he’s drunk enough that you notice the seconds that pass before his eyes properly focus. You remember the exact way his smirk faded, the deep-set wrinkles between his eyebrows when he recognized your face, a nauseating anger. “No. No, you don't move.”

Enforcers never go anywhere alone. Maybe the man had just remembered this, just now realized the true risk of his cockiness when it's not backed up by two or three of his colleagues. Maybe that's why he finds it easy to target you rather than the angry figures lurking in the tables behind him. Maybe that's why he draws his gun so fast.

“I know you, little thief—”

A woman approaches at the same time he does, and you don't know why exactly you decide to focus on her instead. A plea, maybe. You remember the dull gray of the brass knuckles on her fingers, the thick leather belt hung around her lower waist, the thump of her boots against the old floorboards. You've never noticed her before. How ridiculous it feels to think that she was there all night. How lovely that she could be the last thing you see. There's comfort in her being there, a morbid, sad thing that feels almost like company. At least you’re not alone in the room with the monster, at least there's someone to watch you die. 

Her hand falls on the Enforcer’s shoulder and she pushes him back with little effort, the quickest movement, almost without thought. The man stumbles (blame the well praised alcohol or Sevika’s strength), and the glass that had stayed in his hand shatters against the edge of the bar at the same time his gun fires a loose shot to the wall behind you.

Next comes a blur, a vague memory of hearing the Enforcer hiss in pain, a thread of red spilling down the open palm of his hand.

“You got somewhere to go?”

Her voice is the first and only thing that brings you back, the only sound louder than the heartbeat pounding in your ears. She sounds smooth, clear-headed, not like a woman who just stepped in the middle of the fastest paced violence you’ve ever encountered. Gray eyes move across your face, then the rest of you, and you quickly look down at yourself as if to check along with her that you’re actually unharmed.

Your lips feel awfully dry when your tongue brushes against them, enough air passing through to let you breathe, but not quite talk. You nod your head and remember in a rushed, distorted thought— somewhere to go, yes, home, now.

Sevika returns your nod, small praise, an odd way of saying something like good job. Less odd than the quiet satisfaction you feel for having earned it. She tilts her head towards the door, short black hair brushing her shoulder, her voice the kindest you’ve ever heard to this very day. Perhaps the thing you remember most. “Go on, love.”

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

Years pass, deaths and joys and new odd jobs, and you still think about it. She sits at the back of your head like a softly worded reminder. And then one day, as things go, you find her again. Her making a deal at the back of The Last Drop, you behind the bar serving drinks.

There's a chance she doesn't remember it. What are the odds that she thought about you at all after the incident? You were just a stranger on a random night. It's not often that people fully understand the weight of what they did for someone, the trickle down of an action, of a kindness. There's a chance for you to go home, alone and unchanged. Instead (and not for the first time) you work for an hour longer, unpaid labor for a chance to serve her a drink.

Sevika doesn't come every night. You see her maybe once a week, talk to her maybe once a month. You don't expect tonight to be any different, but—

“You gonna watch me all night?” she mutters it into her glass, swallows the last sip before she looks at you. The are tiny wrinkles beginning to form on the corners of her eyes now, along each side of her lips from her smiles. Watching her is entrancing, the easiest thing you do, as natural as drawing a breath. “What are you still doing here?”

You blink downwards at the washed glass in your hand, continue to dry it like it could ever be half as interesting as being under her spell. “Working overtime.”

“Vander can't afford to pay you overtime,” Sevika scoffs, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smirk. 

You frown, maybe a little flustered. “He—”

“She's right. Why are you still here?”

The man himself stands tall to your left, glaring at this one permanently stained spot on the bar, working at it with a rag like he hasn't tried the same thing a hundred times before. There are dark shadows under his eyes, a purple hair tie on his wrist— Powder’s, if you were to guess. You’ve grown close to Vander since you met him, even closer when he hired you to work here. “‘S not a favor,” he’d said, quickly catching the suspicion on your face. “Just a gesture to him.” Turns out a lot more people knew your father than you thought; Vander isn’t old enough to have grown up with him, but they still found ways to end up at the same places. If he hadn’t been so secretive about who he was beyond the man who raised you, maybe you would’ve met Vander years ago, became friends at some bar in your teen years instead of at a diner a few days after your father’s funeral. But gaining a friend is a timeless thing, it obeys luck, not sensitivities. One day he wasn’t there, and then the next he was.

You spray some cleaning liquid over the spot on the table, roll your eyes as he leans closer to wonder at how the stain begins to slowly fade. “I’m working,” you repeat.

He looks at you from the corner of his eyes, one eyebrow raised. “I ain’t paying you.”

“I know, okay? It's fine,” you cross your arms over your chest, embarrassed to have been caught even though neither Vander nor Sevika seem to know what the real reason behind you staying late is. “It's a busy night, take it as a favor.”

“I can't afford favors.”

“Good thing they’re free, then,” you deadpan.

Sevika chuckles at the banter, forever amused at your unreserve, how simple you make things. It makes no sense to her to be that generous, that open, but it makes even less sense to think that you’d be any other way. Sevika isn’t particularly trusting, but she is loyal— the more you talk, the more watching you becomes addicting, her thing. She fixates on learning new things about you, clings to your words like a cat to its owner’s scent and wonders, over and over and over, if you remember her. From all those years ago. From last week. With you, she’d take anything.

And when she does finally see you up close, finds a good enough excuse in asking you for fire or a refill, there's little you could ask that she would say no to. It's senseless and thrilling and above all, it's true. She feels it down to her bones, painfully clear, like it's written all over her face.

“What do you do, Sevika?”

Sit and wait for you, she thinks, and instead replies, “What?”

“For work,” you clarify, your hand against the bar, leaning slightly forward. “I see you every week and I still don't know.”

You do know what she does, at least as much as anyone else does— too little to run your mouth, enough to stay away. And if you didn't know, you know her enough to be certain that she wouldn't tell you. It's a pointless question. Unless, of course, you’re as infatuated as you are.

Sevika takes another gulp of her drink, her eyes tracing over the line on your waist where the apron ties behind your back, the soft curve that the pull of it forms. She needs a smoke. “Same shit as everyone else,” she answers, and palms her pockets for a cigarette case. “What do you do? Other than this.”

“This is it,” you watch her flick open the case and shrug. You don’t sound particularly sad or frustrated, just plainly aware. “I pour drinks for people who all seem to do the same shit.”

Sevika hums, sets the case down, a click of metal against well worn wood. An unlit cigarette sits between her index and middle finger. “Be honest,” she starts, and it's the same voice that's been talking to you this whole time, but the gruffness still manages to catch you off guard. “Am I just as bad?”

You chuckle, the same addicting shimmer of genuineness in your eyes that she chases everytime you speak. “Just as bad as what?”

Her eyes follow your hands where they go to pull a lighter from the chest pocket of your apron. “The drunks that flirt with you while you do your job,” she lets the cigarette hang from her lips and leans forward.

“Hm,” you hum. The reflection of the flame sparkles in her eyes before you pull it away, orange against gray, odd and pretty. “I don't know.”

You’re not sure if she looks amused or slightly offended. It's a nice view regardless, the way her eyebrows lift and her lips curve downwards for a second before she breathes out, spilling smoke from her mouth as she talks, “You don't know.”

“I guess I didn't realize you were flirting with me.”

Sevika chuckles, a tiny half moon of a smile line on her cheek when she smirks, smugly aware of the way your eyes are looking at her. “You’re funny.”

Sevika is loyal. It would be easy to say that she doesn’t get what this feeling is, that it’s meaningless, that she doesn’t understand it— but she knows. She knows what it is even if it goes unnamed, because she’s the one deciding to keep it, stubborn and tight gripped, close to her heart. It’s in her dreams, in her first thought of the morning, in the disappointment that sours her mouth when she doesn’t find you at the bar. It’s in her stomach, tugging with need, when she looks at your face and realizes that if she asks if you wanna go home with her tonight, you will say yes.

She takes the leap. Parts her lips, names herself yours. “You wanna get out of here?”

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

You rarely pour your own drinks anymore. It’s a funny thing— Sevika doesn’t ask about your preference, which liquor is your favorite, if you’d like for her to do it for you. She figures it out like she does most things, making a study out of it, watching you enough. Maybe a little extra, too. The cork slides up with a pop!, her fingers around the neck of the bottle. The warmth of her still lingers on your thighs, your own fingers sitting restless over your lap now that her hair is not close enough to play with.

It’s been months since the first night she came home with you. You wouldn’t yet say that the newness is gone, or that you’re as quick of a student as she is, but there are things you know about Sevika already. Vivid truths, bright like the visions of her in the sunlight that you dream about sometimes. Reassurance is one of the first languages you learn from each other.

For Sevika, it's almost always about touch— you notice it immediately at the core of most of her silences, the way closeness makes her demeanor shift to something calmer, more true to herself. Slide closer to her on the couch and her arm will find itself around your shoulders immediately. Pat the empty spot next to you on the bed and she’ll let out a heavy sigh of relief, join you in sleep instead of torturing herself about tomorrow’s line of business. Part your lips when she's kissing you late at night with no goal other than to kiss you and she’ll let out a sound that vibrates through you and changes her mind on what was once an innocent gesture; she’ll tug your shirt off instead. Brush your hand over her shoulder when she's resting her head on your lap and she’ll guide it to her face instead, a lazy hold on your wrist while your thumb brushes her cheek. Coming to love her is the warmest science. But it’s not always exact.

You watch her pour you a drink at the bar table that sits in front of your bed— watch the dark hair that sits against the nape of her neck, messy and loose, watch the waistline of her pants sitting low on her waist, watch the bareness of her back. If there’s a reason why you decide to say it now, you don’t yet realize it. The words just spill out of you before you have a chance to stop them. “I remember you, you know."

Sevika’s hand hovers over the whiskey glass before she hums, resuming the movement and bringing it to her lips. "You didn't say."

“You didn’t ask,” you rest your back against the bed frame, watch her carefully.

The air sits still and you see her shoulders lift, muscles shifting as she shrugs, a big gulp of golden liquor sliding down her throat. Her voice comes in a mutter, low and almost shy, "Thought I might scare you off.”

The idea is so ridiculous that it's almost laughable. A startled chuckle dies in your chest and leaves room for aching sadness, your back leaving the frame as you lean forward and pray for her to turn around. "He was going to shoot me. Nobody moved a finger but you, Sev," you shake your head, try to manage your expression from saying too much, from confessing to something that’s been inside of you for years. At the tip of your tongue sits a raw desperation for this exact unraveling, for her. "How could you scare me?"

Another moment passes before Sevika turns to face you, lower back against the edge of the table, holding her drink down by her side. She won't look at your eyes— can't, maybe. You wonder if she's considering leaving, if she's already decided that she will, as soon as this is over. A part of you, small but dramatic and loudly pessimistic, is surprised that she’s entertained you this long. Even more surprised when she asks, "Is that what this is?" a turn of her head and the gray in her eyes finds you in a second, mechanical and unforgiving, the snap of a bear trap. You don't think you could look away if you tried. "Are you here because you think you owe me something?"

Your reaction is something close to a flinch, your frown deepening, feet firm on the floor instantly. "You can't seriously think that."

Sevika feels the regret come instantly. It splatters on her face, the pads of her fingers rough when they're brushed over her cheek to wipe herself clean of it like she does blood, gunpowder, fear. She watches out of the corner of her eye the way you part your pretty lips and can hear it in her head, imagine it so clearly, you asking her to leave. 

She's already reaching for her coat to make quick work of obeying your wishes when, instead of that, you ask, "You wanna know why I’m here?"

Sevika lowers her hand and the glass hits the table with a thud. Her head tilts to make the slightest nod— and that's as much of an answer as you'll get, you think.

“Look at me,” your finger sits under her chin, a touch barely there, the rise of her head more her choice than your doing. “You’re good, Sevika,” she grimaces, feels like she's swimming in gross viscous shame older than herself and barely surviving it. You press your thumb into her cheek, firm but kind, and keep her from being swept away by it. If she used to find your openness sweet, right now she finds it fucking miraculous. How can you call her good and mean it, how can someone else know so deeply that she could be, that she will be, when most days she doesn’t even know it herself? How can she look you in the eyes and deny you that truth? Her face relaxes, grimace replaced by an aching need as she listens to you. “I see it better than most, but they all catch up eventually. Whatever you put your mind to, you’re fucking good at it,” you pause, try to read her expression and find yourself unsure, but calm. How lovely to think that there's still so much to learn. “You don't owe me and I’m not trying to change you… you don't need—”

Sevika rests her hand over your cheek, a warm hum from her throat to acknowledge what you're saying, a desperate shake of her head to say but I do. “I need you,” her forehead falls against your own, in her brain a chant of please.

You look at her through your lashes, nod your head and feel warm, warm, warm. Her hand guides your face closer, a needy pull of her fingers where they press against the back of your neck, your whisper of “me too” spilled into her mouth. Sevika kisses like there's nothing in the whole fucking world she’d rather be doing, nothing that could possibly distract her. She has kissed you in nightclub bathrooms even with someone's knocks shaking the flimsy door, in alleys with her knuckles still bloody from a fight, dangerously close to opening hours with your back against the very bar where she rests her drinks every night. She's hungry, insatiable, and every time you can't wait to part your lips and let her in.

It takes godlike strength to hold on for as long as you do, but there's power in making her wait too, a satisfaction that feels drunk and just as divine as it makes its way down your spine. A few more chaste kisses take seconds or a century, and Sevika indulges them for as long as she can before she breaks, falls to her knees at your altar and breathes, “Please.”

There's nothing you like more than hearing her beg, except maybe what happens after you give in— the relief, the sigh against your mouth, the wet warmth of her tongue and the desperation in the way she pushes her body against you like she hadn't til then realized just how famished she’d been. Her hands wrap around your waist meanly, pressing indents, and you're too busy soothing your own hunger on her lips to realize that she's switched your positions.

You feel the harshness of the table against your back and pull away to look down, catch up, your daze maybe a little too obvious judging by the curl of her mouth. She's panting as much as you are, though, tongue peeking out barely to brush over her lips, tingly and wet from your kisses. “Up,” she says with a tilt of her head, more a warning than a command, her hands already down on your hips to get you sitting over the wood.

Sevika is a sight, pretty and inviting and overwhelming— you reach for her waist and pull, entranced by the way she follows, the way your legs interlock. A thin layer of sweat glimmers over her chest and you've never found so much beauty in the undercity’s humidity, never felt yourself get wet as easily as she makes it, never been so desperate to find some relief from the aching between your legs. Your thighs squeeze into Sevika’s and looking up to meet her eyes feels like a punch, like the sweetest blood, a sea of glazed-over gray barely visible against the black of her pupils. A mirror of your wanting; how the hunger grows when it meets reciprocation this delicious. You lean forward to taste it from her lips and she meets you halfway, a hand traveling up your spine and ending at your neck.

You don't know when you started grinding against her, but you know you want more. And you know Sevika’s holding back, savoring the same power you’d tried before, a smirk against your lips when she feels you speed up, hears you moan from somewhere deep in your throat. It suits her, the way she holds control. Sevika likes to wonder if she’d ever hold on longer, make you really wait. Sometimes she thinks she might, and then (like now) your voice fills her ears and clouds every thought that says anything other than please, god, fuck, let me make you feel good. “Don’t be mean,” you say this time, breathy and achingly sweet. “Please, Sevika.”

The first grind of her thigh against your pussy makes you end a kiss with your teeth biting into the meat of her lower lip, rougher than you intended. “Fuck, Sev—” you say, cut yourself off with a gasp when she does it again. Sevika figures out the angle unsurprisingly quickly, a hand on your hip and another on your ass to guide you back and forth at a rhythm that matches the movement of her own hips, enough fervency behind it that you know she needed this as much as you did. Maybe more, judging by the groans she spills on your neck every time you press up into her.

Full lips kiss at your pulse, open mouthed, her breath cool against your skin when it meets the wetness she left there. Your nails rake over her shoulder, over her scalp where your fingers are buried in between strands of dark hair— and when Sevika groans it sounds raw, a broken noise, her hips moving desperately faster. You can feel her warmth on your thigh and you've never wanted so badly to have her undressed, laid out, rubbing her pussy against you, leaving a mess on skin rather than the fabric of your pants. She's getting carried away, you know it, chasing her high and barely giving you a chance to catch up. You've never wanted anything more than to let her use you.

“You feel so fucking good,” she grunts, wrecked with need for you to pacify when she lifts her head from your neck, her eyebrows furrowed. You watch her get lost on your lips and you can imagine what they look like, how plump she left them, how the pride of that must simmer in her lower abdomen. Her thumb brushes over them once, then again, and you barely register that she's asking for permission before your mouth moves on its own accord to let her index and middle finger inside. It's filling, just what you needed; how beautifully unsurprising that she knew it more than you did, or that she needed it just the same.

You're fully caged in now, your back pressed against the wall, Sevika’s free hand on your waist still steering you back and forth on her thigh. “Too— hm, fuck,” her fingers slide out of your mouth and press wet indents into your cheek as she holds your jaw, traps you in her eyes. She’s far too gone to warn you but she doesn't have to, it's so painfully clear. Her eyes two dark pits to swallow you whole, lips parted, the grinding brutal and so fucking good— she says it until she can't form the words anymore, her head tilted back, thighs stuttering and tightening around your leg as she comes.

Your tongue tastes the skin of her bared neck and you feel yourself get closer and closer, fed by the feeling of her nipple under the pad of your thumb, by the shaking moans she spills into your ears as you keep grinding against her. Sevika must feel it too, in the same way you did, notice the change in your breath or the speed of your hips— because she pulls away and knows to soothe the needy desperation on your face with a messy kiss before she gets down on her knees.

“Shh,” her shushing comes soft and agonizingly kind, your whines barely contained as she presses kisses to the inside of your thighs. “What happened to my patient girl?” she asks, a tilt of her head and a smirk, the meanest angel.

Your palms press onto the table to lift yourself up enough to let her slide your pants and underwear off in one motion. “Spoiled me too much,” you answer, your mind foggy, drunk on the sight of her kneeling in front of you.

It takes Sevika a moment to reply, the pads of her finger pressing into your thighs. Her eyes meet yours and she wants to tell you, how could I not? You’re not trying to change her, you’d said, but you do. These days, she doesn't think about anything else like she used to— I love you prefaces everything. I love you, so I’m winning this stupid fight and making some money. I love you, so I gotta get home alive. I love you, so I think we could change this city. I love you, you should have every-fucking-thing. But Sevika's not really a woman of many words, especially not when you're looking at her like this, especially not when she's this hungry, so she shrugs her shoulders and says (like it explains everything, and maybe it does), "Look at you.”

The intensity of her makes your legs squeeze together, but you barely make it an inch before she’s pulling them apart and hooking them over her shoulders exactly how she likes.

Your face feels like it's burning, heat crawling up your neck, your grip on the table tight. “Please.”

Sevika barely manages to pry her eyes away from where you're open and glimmering, soaking her fingers after just one brush of them against your lips. Her voice comes out strained, drowned in hunger. “Please what?” 

You must sound worse, but the thought barely registers, hardly matters. “Please, Sevika, make me come.”

And she does— pretty nose bumping perfectly against your clit whenever her tongue is too busy inside you, her lips shiny and wet and relentless. Like everything else, she's fucking good at it.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi! :) mayhaps can i request your HC's for viktor x an artist reader. 👉👈 ur angst drabbles have been sustaining my life since season 2

There’s a saying that if an artist loves you or falls in love with you, you can never die.

A saying that Viktor didn’t give much thought until it was very clear that he was your forever muse, your reason to keeping your passion alive through experimenting art styles to maximise the effect you wanted your art to have; almost in the exact same way a scientist would conduct experiments in order to understand how something works and how to properly utilise it.

However each and every one of your art works came out looking like masterpieces that should and probably would be studied by future artists themselves one day, given how beautiful they were.

But also because they all included a man with amber eyes and soft chocolate hair hard at work with his own projects as blue sparks are captured liked shooting stars flying past his beautiful face. He truly was a once in a lifetime experience that you wanted to eternally capture within the pages of your sketchbook.

It literally didn’t matter what he did, whether it was tinkering, experimenting with the hexcore or just simply existing, you wanted to capture as much of Viktor as you possibly can whenever you can.

Viktor, in your eyes, was the kind of man people would kill to create sculptures of and artworks that would be seen in grand museums, within a beautifully intricate frame that only added emphasise to his importance to the artist in question. The artist being you of course.

So needless to say whenever you were with Viktor you made sure to have your sketchbook and pencils in hand as you knew that you’d end up wanting to sketch him for the millionth time that day.

However your favourite sketch of him came when you made him smile, genuinely smile.

The image of his bright and handsome smile was all you could see for hours on end as you found yourself absentmindedly sketching his face, his smile, the wrinkles near his eyes and his wind ruffled hair to perfection.

You then found yourself staring at it as though reliving the moment where you heard his laugh reach your ears like a harmonious melody, swept upon the wind that ruffled his hair and into your ears and your ears only.

To be loved by an artist was to be seen and you saw Viktor in a way that nobody else could, not even himself, and it showed in your work as you made him look like an angel disguised as a human given how frequently you used the colour gold whenever you drew him. From his eyes, to his clothes, everything with Viktor had hints of gold to it.

So much so that you had to get more colouring pencils of the exact same shade of gold so frequently that the manger of the art shop knew your name and the muse of your latest works at this point.

‘Drawing Viktor again I see?’ They’d teasingly ask as you’d shrug your shoulders.

‘Guilty as charged.’ You would reply before taking your things and leaving.

Viktor didn’t pry into your sketchbook, it was your belonging and he didn’t feel it was necessary for him to pry into it, but his curiosity didn’t help him one day as he found himself drawn to the sketchbook that you seemed to had left in his lab.

The first few pages were merely parts of the academy that you frequently visited, from the gardens, to the library, to even the lab he was stood in. Each one was increasingly more impressive than the last with how lifelike you made each one as though he could fall into the scene you had created; a true testament to your talent, creativity and insane attention to detail.

However the further the sketchbook went, he could easily see a decline in inspiration in your art. only for it to pick back up again when you had started drawing him doing the most mundane of things -at least in his mind he thought so- as simple sketches to portraits solely done by oil pastels or only colouring pencils. All just to emphasise his features and the concentrated furrows of his brows, a large variation of colours you’ve used so effortlessly to make up his face in a way that he could never imagine.

And yet Viktor found that there was more artworks of yours regarding him, artworks that seemingly continued endlessly and were just as hyper detailed and colourful as the more of himself that he saw, each one touching his heart in a way that made him realise that this was how you genuinely saw him; an angel in human skin as the way you depicted him was either simply human or an ethereal being coated in various shades of gold.

Through the eyes of an artist, through the eyes of you, Viktor knew that you only conveyed what you believed to be true and the fact that you saw him in such a way was enough to have him struggling to breath, but in the best way possible.

You way you saw him transcended beyond the person he saw each and every day in the mirror. You saw him as a man of infinite beauty, wisdom and strength in a multitude of ways while never shying away when it came to his leg nor disease.

If anything you made those parts of him stand out the most in a way that told him that you found these parts of him a strength and perfection in your eyes. Telling him that you didn’t wish him to be anything other then himself, for he was perfect and so much much that only your art could help describe.

Viktor; a man on borrowed time became a man immortalised within the pages of his artist lover.

He even seen the sketches of him fast asleep against his workbench you’ve done and even then you took your time making it look like he was staring into a mirror of himself.

You’d catch him flicking through your sketchbook but you couldn’t say anything against it as the way his eyes light up and soft smiles upon looking at your latest works, looks that only made you want to draw Viktor even more if it meant this sight becoming more common with the passage of time.

‘You like them?’ You’d ask from the doorway.

‘I love them my dear.’ He replies softly as he presses his forehead against your own, making you smile fondly. ‘But was the drawing of me sleeping necessary?’ He adds playfully as you chuckled.

‘Oh it was very necessary my muse.’ You replied with equal playfulness as you kissed his nose. ‘I saw an opportunity and couldn’t let it pass me by without at least drawing it first,’ Viktor scoffs but the smile upon his lips remained, ‘and besides you looked really peaceful and relaxed that I wanted it to be something I remember. Hoping I get to experience more moments like that to be my muse for my future drawings.’ You finished.

‘I’m glad the to could do that for you my dear.’ Viktor closed his eyes and rested his head further against yours, wanting nothing then to capture this moment within his mind forever, secretly hoping to continue to be the muse of your art projects as your artistic range grew.

‘You’ve always been my muse,’ you said, closing your eyes, ‘you will always will be my muse.’

[fairydvsts-blog]

𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

obx masterlist

summary; your best friend, Rafe, finds out that you're dating someone else and he's not happy about it

warnings; some angst, jealous!Rafe, SMUT, praising and degrading, spanking, oral sex (fem receiving), hickeys, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up you all!)

a/n; english isn't my first language, so you might find some mistakes; I'm open to constructive criticism. Enjoy!

While you were sitting on your bed doing your homework, Rafe suddenly entered your room, looking at you with anger in his ocean blue eyes.

"When were you going to tell me?" he questioned, not even bothering to say hello.

He had showed up unannounced, clearly annoyed at you; but the thing was you had no idea why he was so mad, since you hadn't done anything that could have upset him.

Or so you thought.

"Tell you what, exactly?" you asked.

Your confusion only grew as seconds passed, luckily, Rafe broke the silence and said, "That you're dating someone."

His statement surprised you, you didn't expect him to figure it out that soon; only a week had gone by since you had started seeing the guy. But guess what, Rafe Cameron seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere.

"I don't know, Rafe," you answered him, then added, "I mean, I've barely know him for a few days." You saw his stoic features harden as you talked.

"So what?" he replicated. "You didn't think I would want to know?"

You rolled your eyes at his hypocrisy; he dated a new girl every week and he for sure didn't talk to you about any of them —not that you wanted to know anyways. Why should you tell him then?

"Know what? That I'm fucking someone? I don't recall you telling me such things" you declared as you frowned, starting to get mad at him.

You stood up, taking some steps in his direction, while his eyes widened at your words. He clearly wasn't expecting to hear that.

"You've fucked him?" the blonde snapped; his jaw was visiblely tense.

"Yes, it is wrong now?" you asked him with raised eyebrows at the same time that you crossed your arms.

Your breasts poked out from the neckline of your tank top, drawing Rafe's attention for an instant. Though he looked away quickly, his intense stare made you blush a little and you let go of you arms unconsciously.

"Yeah, it is," he stated, then he added, "you said it yourself, you don't even know him that well."

He was being so unfair to you that your blood started boiling. When he fucked girls at parties, he didn't care about not knowing them; he didn't even ask for their names.

"So what?" you mocked him. "Do you know every girl you've put your dick into?"

He gasped, not knowing how to argue with that; he knew that you had a point, but he wouldn't recognise it.

"It's different," he ended up saying.

"The hell is not," you refuted.

After a few seconds of silence, in which you gave each other a deathly stare, you sighed and decided to speak again, "Sometimes I don't get you, Rafe, I just don't."

Rafe's attitude pissed you off so much; one minute he was all over you, like you were the most precious treasure he had, and the other he was fucking other girl that wasn't you. And it enraged you because you liked him, a lot, even if you didn't want to admit it out loud.

"Bet he doesn't even fuck you properly." His sudden statement made you gasp because he was, in fact, correct.

You couldn't deny the guy sucked at sex, but he was popular and good-looking and just happened to be at that party where Rafe stood you up for some blonde chick; and given that you wanted him to feel as jealous as you felt when he fucked other girls, you couldn't prove him right.

So you held your head high and, then, you lied, "I think he does it quite well actually."

You had to look up at him after he took a step closer, fixating his fiery eyes in yours. Suddenly, you were so close together that you could feel his warm breathing in your skin.

"Bet I could fuck you so much better."

He left you open-mouthed and your heart started hammering in your chest as he spoke. When he finished talking, he licked his lips with a smirk and your eyes betrayed you, looking closely at his mouth.

On a normal basis, you would have been intimidated by him, but that day you were feeling bolder than ever, so you rose up on your toes to reach his ear and whispered, "Then fuckin' prove it."

He shortened the distance between the both of you, grabbing your chin between his fingers and connecting your lips with his; the action took you by surprise and your eyes widened for a moment. In just seconds, the kiss became so hungry and desperate that your breath hitched and your legs started feeling like jelly.

Your hands caressed his cheeks, feeling the stubble on his jaw, while you closed your eyes. As the kiss deepened, you felt his bigs hands grabbing your butt and then Rafe lift you up so that he could place you in top of your bed. You felt your notes getting crushed, so, without breaking the kiss, you fumbled on the mattress for the sheets to toss them to the ground.

After that, you took off his cap, throwing it aside, to tangle your fingers in his messy hair. You pulled his blonde locks to push him away in order to start undressing; your eyes didn't leave his as you grabbed the hem of your t-shirt and removed it. His eyes dropped from your eyes to your exposed breasts and his breathing became heavier.

He stood still for a few seconds, just staring at your body, before saying, "You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

He leaned over you to take one of your nipples between his lips, sucking at it like a man starved. You moaned at his action as your hands sneaked under his polo shirt to touch his soft skin; when he let go of your nipple with a loud pop, you decided to take it off.

As you put his shirt aside, he started to kiss and lick your neck, marking it. You were sure he'd leave love bites all over it and the thought of everyone seeing his marks on your body only made you wetter.

You had waited so long for that moment that it felt unreal.

"I want that fuckin' asshole to know who you really belong to, baby," he stated, gently bitting your collarbone.

His hand wandered over your left thigh, caressing your naked skin, until it reached your shorts. He looked at your face, asking for permission to undress you completely; you nodded to make him know that it was okay. Rafe smirked and, then, took off your shorts and underwear.

He didn't waste any time after that; he just buried his face between your legs. His action took you by surprise and you gasped for air while you grabbed at your bedsheets, moaning loudly when he sucked hungrily at your clit. Your back arched because of the pleasure his talented tongue was giving you, licking every sensitive part of your pussy from your entrance to your bundle of nerves.

Seconds later, you felt how Rafe placed his tongue right onto your clit again, licking it up and down at a tortuous pace. Your legs started shaking and you grabbed his hair to bring his head closer to you; he was almost suffocating in your pussy, but he couldn't think of a better way of dying. You felt a little bit ashamed when you started cumming after just a few minutes of stimulation, however, Rafe encouraged you to do so.

"That's it, baby, cum in my face like the little slut you are," he said, rubbing your clit with his thumb to help you ride your orgasm.

"Oh my god! Rafe!" you moaned, desperately grinding your pussy against his mouth.

The pleasure clouded all of your senses for what seemed minutes and when the feeling went away, you looked down to find his blue eyes staring at you, mesmerised.

"I love you," he admitted, climbing over you to kiss your lips hungrily but you couldn't return the kiss.

"What?" you asked, totally surprised by his confession.

"I love you, baby, do you love me?" he answered, caressing your cheek while he placed himself between your legs.

It took you a few seconds to react, but you finally said, "I love you, Rafe."

He smiled at you, giving you a short kiss before unbuttoning his short dress pants under your attentive gaze. You tried to help him undress but he didn't allow it, grabbing your hips to turn you around and place you over your stomach. After that, Rafe couldn't resist the urge to spank you and his action made you moan.

"Stay still, baby," he ordered while he finished undressing.

"Again," you demanded, ignoring his request.

You heard his laughter.

"So my little slut likes to be spanked... Interesting," he pointed out, positioning behind you and lifting your hips from the mattress.

Then, he slapped you again, harder that time, and you moaned, feeling your pussy getting wetter —if that was possible. You looked back, finding him in all his naked glory and your cheeks turned red at the sight.

He was gorgeous, every part of him.

"Please, Rafe," you begged, shaking your butt in need of some sort of friction.

"Fuck, baby, you have the prettiest cunt," he told you, rubbing the thick head of his cock over your clit and you squirmed in response, "I'm going to fucking destroy you, sweetheart."

He penetranted you in one single thrust, taking your breath away because of the sudden intrusion. He was big and it took you a few minutes to adjust to his size, but he didn't push your limits, thrusting into you slowly and carefully at first, which made it more pleasant for you.

When he felt that you were ready to take more, he started pounding into you faster; his dick filled you perfectly, it was like he was made to fuck you, and in no time you were a moaning mess under him. With each thrust, his pelvis hit your ass cheeks, pushing you hard against the mattress.

"I wish you could see yourself, baby," he panted, slapping your thigh while he screwed you hard, "You look like a fucking goddess."

The bedroom was too hot; his skin was covered in sweat and it felt sticky against yours. He leaned over you, reaching for your neck to cover it with wet kisses. At the same time, his right hand trailed toward your pussy, pressing and rubbing your clit with two fingers. You held onto his arm, digging your fingernails into his skin unintentionally due to the pleasure.

You bit your lower lip so hard that your drew blood. He noticed it, so he grabbed your jaw with his free hand to bring your mouth closer to his and licked your lip clean.

"I'm so close, Rafe," you announced, whimpering on his lips.

"I know, baby, I can feel your pretty pussy tightening around my cock," he moaned next to your ear, giving you goosebumps.

Hearing Rafe's moans was your new favourite thing in the world.

"My little slut is gonna cum all over my cock?" He asked, caressing your back until he reached your ass, spanking you again.

"Rafe, yes! I'm cumming!" you almost screamed in pleasure, trembling in his strong arms.

Your muscles became so thigh that your orgasm triggered his own.

"Fuck, baby, I'm cumming too," he warned, trying to pull out because he wasn't wearing a condom, but you stopped him from doing so.

You didn't want your orgasm ruined.

"Inside, please," you begged.

Rafe pounded into you one last time before he came with a loud moan, filling you with his cum. He kept thrusting into you for a few seconds to ride his climax and then he collapsed over you on the mattress. It took him a moment to move to the side to cuddle with you; both of you were gasping for breath.

"Who fucks you better then?"

You couldn't help but smile and answered, "You do, Rafe."

[captainlunaxmen]

First Sight

Dark!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

Here we are! Sorry for the wait, but I thought I had everything planned out and... I didn't, so I'm sorry I made you wait this long❤️❤️❤️

Let me know what you think, please, because this is my first time writing a dark fic, so feedback is highly encouraged in this case🙏🙏🙏

Summary: Y/n has been part of the Covey since she can remember, when her best friend Lucy Gray is chosen for the Hunger Games her world is threatened, she need to stay strong for her family. She's never been one to love attention. She never wants to draw too much anyway, gladly leaving the stage to her best friend, but she managed to catch someone's attention anyway. A young, ambitious man from the Capitol saw her for just a moment, but that was enough to make an obsession grow inside him.

Warnings: dark fic, obsession, harassment, smut, rape.

Tag list:

@7s3ven @wintersforest @tallulah477 @diannnnsss @that-one-person-blue @kemo19

"Are you sure you want to wear that?" Y/n asks her best friend as they get ready to, yet, another reaping day.

"Of course." Lucy Gray answers, simply as ever, "at least I'll look pretty when they say my name."

"If." Y/n reminds her, "if they say your name."

"After all that mess with Billy Taupe? Mayfair will surely ask her daddy to pull some strings." Lucy Gray slightly scoffs.

"Maybe not..."

"You're too optimistic sometimes." She smiles at her friends, fixing the colourful skirt down.

"I just don't want to think about the worst." Y/n replies, tightening the belt on her own dress.

"Better get used to it."

They share a look, one filled with hope yet resignation too. They smile at each other and walk hand in hand out their home to get to the town square for the annual reaping.

--------------

They hold each other's hand until Lucy Gray's name is announced, and after a quick squeeze, she lets her friend's hand go to walk to the stage.

Y/n's breathing is heavy and frantic. She can't believe it, and when she notices Billy Taupe trying to talk to Lucy Gray, she has to contain herself from hitting him with a shoe... or two.

But her eyes are on her best friend walking up, and then she notices something in her hand. Y/n has to contain her laughter when Lucy Gray puts that something in Mayfair's dress. She can guess it was either a snake or a small lizard. Without much reaction to Mayfair's screams and the mayor's order to help his daughter Lucy Gray walk the stairs, but before she could get on, the mayor slaps her right in the face, making her fall Y/n's feet move on their own, she need to be blocked by a Peacekeeper to realise what was happening. She looks behind her to the rest of the Covey, scared and helpless. So the only thing that comes up to her mind is the only things that always help them all.

Music.

Y/n sings the first verse of one of their favourite songs, and when the other Covey follow Lucy Gray stands up and sings too.

She sends a sad smile to her family before walking away with Jessup and the Peacekeepers.

"Clear the square!" One of the Peacekeepers yells, and everyone starts to walk away to their own business.

"Let's go home." Y/n hugs Maude Ivory, and motion to the rest to follow her.

"Will we ever see her again?" CC asks.

"One thing about Lucy Gray is that she should never be underestimated." She replies, "So... she still hasn't sung her last song."

--------------

Coriolanus Snow is a collected man. Whatever happens to him, he tries his best not to show any reaction to it. But he almost can't help the gasp after he saw the girl from 12. He noticed how she wanted to reach her friend after the mayor slapped her.

Some people would dare say it's love at first sight, Coriolanus doesn't exactly know what to believe, he never felt like that before, he feels like all he could do all day is think of her, just that and it would be almost enough for him... only having her would satisfy him properly.

But he can't risk it... he can't risk his winning for someone he only saw for mere seconds.

He needs to keep his eyes on the real goal.

--------------

When he got home that day and talked to Tigris, he thought he left the girl in the back of her mind.

"I can't even imagine how her family must feel... that girl, did you see her?" Tigris asks, "her eyes when that man slapped Lucy Gray..."

"Yeah... she was ready to jump in and defend her." Coriolanus says casually, "she sang for her."

"I bet they sang a lot together... both of them got a beautiful voice." Tigris guesses, sadness evident in her voice.

"Beautiful indeed." Coriolanus whispers.

Now, his mind is back on her.

That nameless girl from 12. How did she manage to strike him like that? How she stepped out of line to reach her friend, how she sang for her. What was it?

"You okay, Coryo?" Tigris snaps him out of his thoughts.

"Who do you think she was?" He asks.

"Who?" Tigris is confused.

"That girl, the one who sang for Lucy Gray." He specifies.

"Oh... uhm.. I don't know. Her sister? Or maybe a friend, I don't know." She answers, still confused by her cousin's question. "Why do you want to know?"

"No reason." Coriolanus shakes his head, "Goodnight, Tigris."

Without waiting an answer he walks to his bedroom, gets ready for bed and lies on it with one thought in mind.

Surprisingly, not the Hunger Games.

No.

The nameless girl from 12.

--------------

Y/n helped Maude Ivory carry the small television their neighbours landed them so they could keep up with the games and, most importantly, Lucy Gray.

"Remember you have to babysit their babies this week, okay?" Y/n tells the young girl as they plug the television in.

"Of course, are you going to sell your bread?"

"Yes, I left some dough to rise this morning. By tonight, it'll be ready to bake." She assures her.

"Is it on?" CC comes in followed by Tam Amber.

"I think... if I do this." Y/n hits the box hard, and suddenly the screen turns on.

"Careful!" Maude Ivory shouts.

"He told me it needs it sometimes. It's okay." Y/n waves her off as the screen finally shows some movements, still no sound, but it's still something.

"Who is that?" CC asks, as a man appears on the screen wearing a high-collared suit and gelled hair, "is he a clown?"

"Could be..." Y/n sighs.

"Where is he?" Tam Amber asks, getting closer.

"No idea... there are bars behind him... I think..." Y/n tries to answer, but the scene is not clear yet, so she hits the television again.

"Y/n!"

"See? Now it's better." Y/n nonchalantly says, "seems like a cage... wait..."

"There's people inside." CC notices, "are those the tributes?"

"Oh god... probably."

"Can you see Lucy Gray?" Tam Amber asks.

"There... I think she's the only one wearing so much colour." Muade Ivory points at a point in the back.

"Yes, that's her... who's that with her?" Y/n moves closer to the screen, "he looks too cleaned up to be a tribute."

"No idea." CC says.

The host notices them too and apparently asks them to get closer.

Y/n looks more attentively at the guy, inspecting him now closer to the camera, it's clear he's not from the districts.

"Could it be someone from the Capitol?" The little one suggests.

"He could be... but why is he in there?" Y/n sighs, frustrated, "damn it, why can't we hear anything?"

"Y/n! I'm so sorry!" Barb yells from the kitchen.

Y/n is immediately on her feet running to her.

"What happ-" she starts but stops as soon as she see the bowl with the dough she prepared on the floor, "how?"

"I was cleaning and I accidentally hit it. I'm so sorry." Barb Azure explains, apologising again.

"It's..." Y/n lets out a puff of air, "it's okay, I can still save some. Don't worry."

"I'm really sorry."

"It's okay, really." She immediately pick up what she can from the floor, "I can save some. We'll just sell a little less than usual, tomorrow I'll make more."

"I'm..."

"Don't, it's okay, I promise. Go see Lucy Gray on TV, c'mon." She nudges the girl and kneel down to clean, " go."

Y/n watches Barb Azure disappear in the other room, takes a deep breath and goes back to work.

--------------

They managed with selling the bread, the milk, the occasional jewellery Y/n makes and the performance at the Hob to survive.

Y/n haven't been sleep well since Lucy Gray entered the Arena. She's glad Jessup and her managed to escape the toher tributes and found somewhere to hide. But Y/n can't help the anxiety devouring her everyday, she tries to ease the Covey, making them distracted with everything she could think of, but even singing and dancing isn't the same.

Y/n decided to forbid them from watching the games after Jill's, she thinks her name was, death and Reaper lined up the corpses of the others. She didn't want to risk them seeing Lucy Gray among them... she doesn't even know is she herself could.

But tonight Y/n feels like she needs to watch, she has to, for Lucy Gray, a way to be with her. She tries to spot her in the arena, and when the screen show Coral and Treech finding her in a air vent, Y/n stands immediately getting closer to the screen, and needs to hold in a scream when Coral manages to male her friend fall.

Out of her hiding space.

Back in the arena.

Suddenly a giant tank is lowered into the arena Y/n feels her breath stop. Nothing good could come out of there, nothing good comes from the Capitol.

The little girl from 8 get closer, thinking it's their signal they're going home, but unfortunately the tank breaks and thousands of colourful snakes creep out covering her small figure, most likely killing her.

They all run, run to a higher ground, the boy from 4 falls and the snakes caught up with him.

Lucy Gray and Coral run, while Reaper lets the snake take him.

Y/n holds her breath as she watches Coral say something to Lucy Gray, unfortunately they never managed to fix the sound so she can't hear them, but she can understand when Coral is dead, as the snakes tie themselves around her.

That leaves Lucy Gray the last one... she's won.

"What..."

Why aren't they letting her out? Usually they stop once there's only one left.

Lucy Gray keeps backing away from the snakes, and Y/n can see her mouth moving, she doesn't hear, but she can guess she's singing. Usually snakes there in 12 like music, maybe she's trying it with the Capitol's ones too.

When Lucy Gray's face points direct the camera it's clear ad the day that she's singing, with all the strength she has.

"Let her out." Y/n whispers.

Suddenly, the screen changes signaling that Lucy Gray indeed won the Hunger Games.

"Oh my god!" Y/n can't help but scream, she doesn't care if everyone is already asleep.

"What's going on?" Tam Amber walks in, sleepy face and all, followed by Maude Ivory.

"She won!" Y/n screams again.

"Lucy Gray won?!" Moude Ivory immediately runs to hug Y/n.

"She did it!"

"Does that mean she's coming home?" CC asks, he too arrived after hearing all the noise, Barb Azure too.

"I think so." Y/n nods, smiling like never before, a heavy burden is finally off her shoulders and she can let out a sigh of relief, "she's coming home."

--------------

"Your life has just begun." Sejanus tells him as they both travel to district 12, "you're gonna do great. We're both gonna do great."

"Just be careful, okay?" Coriolanus says to him, "it's a different world out here."

"Look at the bright side." He simply replies, and Coriolanus sends him a questioning look, "she might be there."

"Who are you talking about?"

"I heard you and Lucy Gray talking once." He starts, "you asked about the girl who sang for her at the reaping ceremony."

"I.." Coriolanus is caught off guard.

"You're lucky, Ma always told me stories when I was younger about love at first sight." He explains, "the way you ask more and more about her... you can't fool me." He lets out a small chuckle.

"And if she's not there?" Coriolanus asks.

"Why wouldn't she?"

"What if they killed Lucy Gray and she just doesn't want to have anything to do with me? How about that?" He challenges.

"They wouldn't. She was a hit, Coryo. There's no reason for them to kill her." Sejanus tells him, "so you know her name?"

Of course he does, it's the very first thing he asked Lucy Gray. He's been reciting her name since he learned it.

"Y/n." He smiles as he says it.

--------------

"You're singing with me tonight." Lucy Gray warns Y/n, as they gather the instruments they need for tonight's performance, the first since Lucy Gray got back.

"I am... so not doing it." Y/n replies, shaking her head.

"Why not?" She pouts.

"Because I... I'm not." Y/n simply answer, not meeting her eyes.

But Lucy Gray doesn't give up so easily, she tries to make eye contact with her friend, she knows she wouldn't resist.

"Give me a good reason." Lucy Gray challenges again.

"Because... The people want you." Y/n tells her, "you're better at singing than me."

"That's not true." Maude Ivory chimes in, "they loved you."

"Thank you..." Y/n says sarcastically, "I'm not doing it."

"Oh c'mon, I got back, think of it as a welcome back present!" Lucy Gray nudges her friend, "pleeeease."

"Nope, I was almost fainting the whole time I was on stage." Y/n shake her head once again, "not gonna happeen" she sings the last bit.

"You had to refuse me with that beautiful voice of yours too?" Lucy Gray accuses with a laugh.

"Yap." Y/n replies, "c'mon, we don't want tot be late."

"This is not the end." Lucy Gray warns her friend before taking her hand and then, with the rest of the Covey, head to the Hob.

--------------

Coriolanus couldn't contain himself, he can't wait to get out and find his girl.

She is his, he can't see it any other way.

They enter the Hob and Sejanus goes to get them a drink, while Coriolanus looks around, taking in the place, listening to the music.

His eyes find themselves on the stage, as a little girl goes to the mic.

"Is it hot in here?"

They must be the Covey Lucy Gray talked so much about, but he still can't spot Y/n. Where could she be?

The audience cheers loudly

"'Cause we're planning on heating it up a set more!" The girl screams, "the one, the only, Lucy Gray Baird!"

Coriolanus' ears perk up at her name, maybe his girl is with her.

Lucy Gray enters the stage, spinning with her guitar in hand, smiling as brightly as ever.

"Oh hey district 12, did you miss me?" She asks the audience, that immediately replies with a loud "Yes!"

"I bet you never expected to lay eyes on me again. And let me tell you, that goes both ways, but I am back. " She cheers, "I sure am back. Oh is that bottle there for me?" She asks pointing at a bottle of alcohol someone's holding up, " oh c'mon y'all, you know I gave up drinking when I was 12," she fakes complain and takes a sip, "just to clear my pipes, just to clear my pipes! Now, how about a song, uh?" Everyone cheers, happy, "but, I can't, you know." The audience lets out confused and discontent noises, Lucy Gray glances slightly at the side of the stage, in the dark Coriolanus can't see anything, "it's been a while and I don't feel like singing alone tonight. But I'm afraid, my sweet best friend, won't do me the favour... how about you help me convince her?"

The audience immediately burst into a wave of cheers and applauses.

"Do you want her?"

The cheering gets louder.

"Y/n!" Lucy Gray yells, "c'mon out, babes!"

"Y/n. Y/n. Y/n!" The audience chants.

And at last, she walks on the stage, glaring at her friend playfully.

Coriolanus heart skips a beat as he watch her walking to her friend, he never thought he could get more enamoured with her, but here she is, and he can't seem to take his eyes off her. The way she takes the guitar Lucy Gray offers her, the way she timidly smiles at the audience, once again glaring at her friend for putting her in this position.

"See? They love you!" Lucy Gray points at the audience, "now, let's show them how it's done!"

Lucy Gray nudges her friend with her hip as Y/n starts to play the guitar.

Coriolanus eyes are solely on her, and she isn't even aware of it, he can afford admiring her a little more before making her his.

--------------

Lucy Gray is the happiest since she managed to have Y/n sing and dance with her, but the moment he notices a familiar pair of eyes he freezes for an instant.

Coriolanus Snow is here in 12, and he's looking, no... he's staring at her friend.

She notices his weird interest in Y/n from the many unusual questions he made when they were talking. She didn't like how he was talking and asking about her friend like that, like he thought she was his already. She always dismissed it as a stupid sensation, maybe it's exactly that, just her sensation. He might like her, but nothing bad... not necessarily. She doesn't want to think bad of it.

Of course she told the Covey about everything that happened in the Capitol, she just didn't mention this particular thing, to protect her.

She take advantage of an instrumental break to tell Y/n.

"He's here." She says.

"Who?" Y/n asks, looking at the crowd, locking eyes with a blonde man.

"My mentor, the one I talked to you about." Lucy Gray answers.

"Is he blonde?" Y/n asks and Lucy Gray nods,"Why is he here?"

"No idea."

Y/n simply shrugs and keeps play while Lucy Gray sings, unfortunately their performance is cut short by Billy Taupe intervention.

"Fuck..." Y/n sighs, keeping playing, "it's not the first time he acts like that."

"I know you miss me, Lucy Gray." Billy Taupe drunkenly says getting closer to the stage, followed by Mayfair trying to stop him.

"You said you wouldn't play with them anymore." She complains.

Lucy Gray looks at the Covey rolling her eyes, Y/n rolls her own in agreement.

Suddenly Billy Taupe almost jumps on stage grabbing Lucy Gray's skirt.

"Don't touch me! After what you did, don't touch me." Lucy Gray orders him, kicking her foot to let him go of her skirt

"Y/n... Please, you're kind, you know you're all not the same without me." He moves to take Y/n's skirt now, "c'mon, make her see reason."

"Let go." Y/n tells him, she moves backwards but his grip makes her stumble and falls to the ground. Lucy Gray kneels to help her pull her skirt back.

A second later Billy Taupe is thrown to the side, making him lose his grip. The two girls look at the direction he was thrown, and they see that blonde man hitting him hard until another recruit stops him and takes him outside.

"Are you okay?" Lucy Gray asks, helping her friend to stand up.

"Yeah, yeah, all good." Y/n nods, "again, not the first time he acts like that."

"God.. I'm sorry.." the brunette says softly, picking up the guitar.

"Not your fault. Only his." She sighs, "I'm kinda glad your mentor was here, he was the only one to help."

" yeah, glad..."

"Is everything okay?" Y/n worries.

"Yeah, it's just weird seeing him here." Lucy Gray dismisses the question easily, "let's go home, c'mon"

"Okay.." Y/n isn't convinced, but decides to let it go for now, "c'mon ladies and gentlemen, let's get home."

"Wanna go practice some songs on the meadow, tomorrow?" Lucy Gray asks as they walk back home.

"I missed it so much, so of course!" Y/n cheerfully replies, earning a just as excited laugh from her friend.

--------------

Lucy Gray and Y/n played all afternoon in the meadow, like old times. It wasn't that long Lucy Gray stayed in the Capitol, but not knowing if she were to come back at all made it feel so much longer.

"I think this part should be a little slower, what do you think?" Y/n would ask after a while of playing 'The Hanging Tree'.

"This last part of the verse, you mean?" Lucy Gray checks, looking at the music sheets.

"Yeah, I think..."

Their heads snap behind them when they hear footsteps nearing.

"Sorry... we..." the same blonde man from the night before speaks, along a dark haired man, "they say we would find you out here."

"You're here... with that uniform.." Lucy Gray nervously chuckles.

"I thought they killed you." He simply says.

"Killed?" Y/n can't help the question.

"He... uhm.." his friend starts.

"I broke the rule to save her life." He answers, faking humbleness.

"The dean... Highbottom, got me on a train and gave me some money. He said you were sent to 8." Lucy Gray is quite confused.

"Change of plans." He would smile, "I'm Coriolanus Snow, by the way." He moves closer extending his hand for Y/n to take.

"She's Y/n, my best friend I told you about." Lucy Gray introduces her.

"Hi.." she shyly greets, taking his hand. She can't help the surprised "Oh..." When he, instead of shaking her hand, kisses the back of it.

"Nice to properly meet you, she talked a lot about you." Coriolanus charmingly smiles, "this is my friend, Sejanus."

"Nice to meet you," Lucy Gray shakes his hand with a bright smile.

"Nice to meet... you... too." Sejanus greets back with a sweet and kind smile.

They look at each other for a moment, just smiling. Y/n never saw he friend smiling like this with someone, she is so focused on her friend that she didn't notice Coriolanus still holding her hand, still looking at her.

"Oh sorry." Y/n finally takes notice of his hand and takes her own back, missing the pout forming on Coriolanus' face.

"All good." He whispers, "we quite enjoy the show yesterday."

"Oh.. yeah, yeah, yeah, it was great... until that guy came in." Sejanus agrees, nervously looking at Lucy Gray.

"Yeah, Billy Taupe can't accept the fact that we manage without him." She replies, smugly.

"Well, he's lucky you got back" Y/n mutters, "thanks, by the way, for getting him off and... also, of course, for saving Lucy Gray." She looks up at Coriolanus.

"A pleasure, really. There's no need to thank me." He replies, hitching to hold her hand again, to hold her to him and never let go, "anything for you."

At that Y/n takes a small step back, feeling a little nervous under his stare.

"We're going to the lake, tomorrow. Do you guys want to join?" Lucy Gray suddenly asks, surprising her best friend.

"Really?" Sejanus checks in, looking at the girls, "we'd like to."

"Of course, a way of thanking you." She assures him, "we usually go and have a sort of picnic."

"We'll look forward to it." Coriolanus too agrees.

"Yeah, it would be nice." Y/n wraps her arms around herself, to shield herself from his eyes.

"She makes an amazing apple cobbler too, the young ones loves it." The brunette praise her best friend, locking their arms together.

"You cook too?" Coriolanus is surprised, pleased, "you didn't tell me."

"She can do a lot of things, a real walking talent." Lucy Gray smiles proudly at her friend, nudging her side. Y/n's cheeks warm up at the compliments, turning her head to look away from them all.

"Always so shy, aren't you?" Coriolanus softly comments.

"She's never been the best with compliments." Lucy Gray softly chuckles, squeezing her friend's arm, "but she deserves them all."

"I'm sure she does." His soft stare makes Y/n shiver, she doesn't know why but she's intimidated by it.

"Uh..." she would start, but her eyes catch something behind the two men, "Maude Ivory." Lucy Gray follows her eyes to the little girl.

"You're friends peacekeepers." She says.

"They must be here for the fight." Y/n guesses, "I'll go handle it."

"I'm coming with you."

"Get the guitar, then." She instructs and Lucy Gray grabs the guitar.

"Hey.. we can't be seen with you, though." Coriolanus quietly tells them.

"That lake is in the woods, no one knows much about it but us, don't worry." Lucy Gray reassures him.

"That's comforting." Sejanus smiles grateful at her and she returns it.

"See you tomorrow then." Coriolanus says looking at Y/n who simply evades his stare, she politely smiles, but that doesn't stop Coriolanus from dreaming about her that night. How right their hands felt together, how beautiful she is so close... he can't wait for the next day.

He feels somehow grateful for Sejanus presence, he's sure Lucy Gray invited them both because she's interested in him. He remembers the little glances she would send his classmate at the Capitol. He will use it to his advantage, he knows how much Sejanus would love to help him get the girl of his dreams, he just needs a little push.

--------------

Y/n is making a new dough for the next day, while they're at the lake it will have time to raise. She's mostly making it to get her mind busy, to sort of preparing herself for the day at the lake with the two peacekeepers.

"Are you okay?" Lucy Gray cautiously asks, walking next to her.

"Whatever do you mean?" Y/n asks back, not glancing once at her friend.

"Mh... you're using that tone, for one." Lucy Gray nudges her, "and... you're kneading that dough as if you're chocking it. I'm pretty sure it's dead."

Y/n doesn't answer right away, she keeps kneading the dough, when she puts it in a bowl she turns to her friend.

"I'm okay." She finally says.

"Something bothering you." The singer gently takes her hand, guiding Y/n to sit with her at the table.

"Are the others sleeping?" Y/n asks, wiping her hands on a towel.

"Yeah, now tell me what's wrong." She softly urges her, "is it about tomorrow? Are you nervous or something?"

"I guess..."

"Why?" Lucy Gray asks, "do you fancy my mentor?" She tries to joke and teases her.

"No." She quickly answers, "no, really, I... it's like there's something off about him... I don't know, maybe it's just me."

Y/n lets out a heavy sigh and looks at Lucy Gray, who looks conflicted herself.

"I... uhm.." she starts, uncertain.

"What..?"

"I felt the same way when I met him... he would ask so many question about you, our life here you know, I could see he wanted to know more and more about you." She explains.

"Me? Why?" Y/n gets even more nervous.

"I think he saw you at the reaping ceremony, when you sang and... I don't know, you caught his attention."

"Oh..."

"We can cancel... or you can stay in, I don't want you to feel forced to go because I didn't think." Lucy Gray takes her hands again, reassuringly.

"No, it's okay... I mean maybe we're just looking too much into it..." Y/n shakes her head, "I kind of want to see if you and the other one move to the next step."

"You noticed.." she blushes slightly.

"You two where smiling at each other like crazy." Y/n smiles sweetly at her friend.

"He's sweet, I saw how he wanted to help the tributes during the games... but please, we don't have to go if you're uncomfortable." She checks.

"I'm fine, I promise." Y/n kisses her hands to assure her, "maybe it's just a misunderstanding. It'll be fine."

"Oh now you're comforting me?" Lucy Gray teases.

"Obviously." She smiles proudly, "how about you... how are you coping with... with the games?"

Lucy Gray's smile drops slightly, looking down at their hands, squeezing them a little tighter, scared she would be taken away again.

"I'm okay... sometimes I feel like I'm still there." Her eyes fill with tears at the memories, "I killed people, Y/n... I..."

"You can't just shake it off, right?" Y/n guesses and Lucy Gray nods without saying a word, "I won't say that I'll understand, I will try sure, I can't promise I will be able to of course, but... I'm with you, Lucy Gray, you're not alone, I won't let you deal with it alone."

Lucy Gray stands, and so does Y/n, she brings her into a warm hug. They hold each other like never before, they hugged in the past sure, but nothing like this. This hug is filled with comfort and safety, something they both need, they don't even want it to end in fear one of them could be taken away again.

"We should get some sleep." Y/n states with a chuckle, but doesn't break the hug.

"Yeah." Lucy Gray laughs, "I think we should." They pull apart, "Sorry, I really needed that."

"So did I."

With that little comfort from each other they can finally go to bed and get some sleep. Even though, Y/n can't really fall asleep so quickly, her mind constantly going to Coriolanus Snow and his eyes, his stare on her. Could it be possible that they're just imagining it or it's true?

She close her eyes for a second and the moment she opens them the first light of day greets her, making her groan.

"Fuck." She mutters out, uncovering herself and getting seated, not so ready to start the day.

"Morning." Lucy Gray's harsh morning voice greets Y/n in the kitchen as she prepares the basket for the picnic, "Did you get some sleep?"

"I did, do not worry." Y/n replies, "just... uh..."

"What?"

"Don't leave me alone with him, okay?"

Once Lucy Gray nods, Y/n gets back at the basket.

--------------

"This time of the year the water is just perfect." Maude Ivory excitedly jumps towards the lake.

"She loves the lake, if you can't tell." Y/n jokes.

"I wouldn't blame her," Sejanus says, "I'll trust her judgement, then."

"You should!" The little girl tells him, loud.

"Are you sure you don't need help?" Coriolanus offers to carry the basket for the tenth time, "I promise it's no trouble."

"And I promise it's fine, thank you." Y/n, once again, denies his help.

Coriolanus can't help the clenching in his jaw, his girl should never, ever, lift a finger. He'll make sure of it.

"We're almost there, anyway. No worries." She tries to chuckle and assure him.

"She's strong." Lucy Gray chimes in, "she never lets me do any heavy work around the house. It's crazy."

"No, well, that's because you're not the best at them." Y/n teases her.

"That's not true!" Lucy Gray laughs, "I got many talents."

"You do... not for handwork."

Lucy Gray gasps, faking offence, while the rest of the group laugh.

"How long have you been friends for?" Sejanus asks, "if I'm not intruding."

"We're basically sisters," Lucy Gray immediately answers, proudly, "our parents died and we got raised by the same person."

"I arrived after them, but everything fell into places so naturally, it felt like I found my family again." Y/n explains, with a big smile.

"Never left each other's side ever since." Lucy Gray takes her best friend's hand as they finally arrive at destination.

"We're here!" CC exclaims and Maude Ivory rushes to get into the water as soon as possible, making Y/n chuckle.

Coriolanus watches her closely, the way she worries about her family, the way she smiles, laughs and shines when she looks at the young ones. The more time he's in her presence, the more he falls in love with her, his desire to make her his growing each moment. His girl, his wife and, one day soon, his first Lady.

--------------

A day at the lake with her family is something Y/n always treasured, and will always treasure. She usually takes a few minutes to herself to enjoy the water, just floating with her eyes closed, she loves how free the stream lets her be.

The Covey always lets her live her peace... at least until it's time to eat, in that moment they would splash her until she gets to shore, earning, everytime, a glare from the poor girl.

And today should be no different, Y/n and Lucy Gray agreed not to make the others suspect their new friend makes them feel a little uneasy. So as Y/n floats on her own, Lucy Gray will try and keep an eye out to let her alone with her former mentor.

"What's she doing?" Coriolanus asks.

"Oh she likes to feel the water on her own." Lucy Gray explains, while Sejanus play with Maude Ivory, "to enjoy the moment."

"Wouldn't she be carried away by the stream?" He wonders.

"Nah, it's like the water knows where she should be."

"That's beautiful, Lucy Gray." Sejanus comments.

"Not my words." She is quick to specify, "hers."

Coriolanus spent the rest of the bath watching her, purposely ignoring his former tribute's stare. She probably wants to protect her friend, he thinks, but he's the only one who can protect her. And that he will.

"I'm starving!" Maude Ivory exclaims getting out the water towards the picnic blanket, "c'mon!"

Almost in an instant the rest of the Covey follows, apart from Lucy Gray who stays with Sejanus and Coriolanus, and Y/n floating not far.

Coriolanus shots his friend a look to tell him to get Lucy Gray away so he could have some time alone with his girl.

"I..." Sejanus stutters out, "I... I brought something. I know you two cooked for us too, so I wanted to bring something as a thanks... for the invite."

"Aaww but that's very sweet of you. You didn't need to." Lucy Gray almost melts at his words.

"I can show you. I mean they're preparing to eat so might as well help them." Sejanus suggests.

"Oh... uh... I mean..." she is hesitant, looking briefly at Coriolanus and at her friend.

"Coriolanus is here to look out for her, don't worry." Sejanus reassures her, but he doesn't know that his friend is the reason she needs to keep an eye out for Y/n.

Unfortunately, she knows she can't refuse, not without raising questions from her family nor suspects from the two peacekeepers.

"Yeah... Okay." She finally says, "but I mean, you don't have to, she's always does that. You can come with us."

"I don't mind." He's quick to reply, "I too enjoy the waters myself."

"See? No troubles at all." Sejanus smiles at her.

"We will call you soon, anyway." Lucy Gray tells him, she means it as a warning, even though Coriolanus doesn't register it that way.

"We'll be here." He smiles charmingly as always as he looks at the two climbing on the wooden deck and towards the Covey. She still watches over her friend.

As Coriolanus finally can enjoy the view he can notice her floating gently towards him.

'The water knows where she should be' Lucy Gray said, and the water is bringing her to him.

Y/n felt something touching her hand slightly, startling her.

"Oh sorry." She starts to apologise, but freezes when she sees Coriolanus in front of her.

"No need to apologise." He softly says.

"Where's everyone?" She asks.

"Preparing for the picnic." He tells her, secretly enjoy how her eyes don't meet his.

"Oh... I guess.. uh... I guess we should join them, then." She nervously chuckles, wanting more and more to not be alone with the Peacekeeper.

"Did you enjoy the water?" He asks, ignoring her suggestion.

"I... I did." She answers, "I love days like this."

With each word she slowly swims to the deck.

"I've never done this, you know." He says swimming closer.

"You don't have lakes at the Capitol?" She chuckles, again to hid her nerves.

"There's no room for nature." He simply says.

"Oh... that's... sad." She comments, feeling genuinely sad about that, "hope you're having a good day then, Mr Snow."

"Please, Coriolanus is more than fine, or Coryo... if you like." He tells her with a charming smile, internally begging her to say his name.

"Well, I hope you're having a good day, then, C-Coryo." She forces herself to smile, slightly letting out a sigh of relief when she realises she got to the wooden deck.

"The best in a long time." He catch up with her, ready to chivalrously help her climb up.

Y/n tries to be as quick as she can, but in doing so her foot slipped and she falls back into the water... in Coriolanus' arms.

"Shit..." she curses under her breath.

"You okay?" Coriolanus immediately asks, concerned.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry, I... I slipped." She tries to subtly wiggle out of his arms. While what Coriolanus wants more is to hold her even closer. "We should... uhm... get to the picnic or.. or they w-will eat everything."

"Yeah..." Coriolanus eyes constantly switch from her eyes to her lips, "probably."

He doesn't move an inch though, his eyes keeping the same route, but moving his face closer to hers.

Y/n is cornered, she wants to freak out, but he's still a Peacekeeper, who knows what he could do if she rejected him badly.

"Uhm..." she tries to come up with something to say to get out of the situation.

He's living his dream, in the meantime, he's so close to kissing his girl for the first time he wants to enjoy every second of it. His hands find their way to her waist, caressing it.

Y/n shakes, she wants to run, hit him and run away. Coriolanus interprets the shaking as shyness, he's sure she feels the same, he thinks her shaking is only in anticipation of the kiss.

So he leans closer... and closer...

"Guys!" Lucy Gray's voice saves her, "it's all set!"

"We're coming!" Y/n shouts back immediately, turning away from Coriolanus as she feels his grasp tightening slightly.

Y/n manages to climb back up and misses the frustrated clenching in Coriolanus' jaw.

--------------

They sit on the blankets they brought as they eat, Y/n managed to take a seat in between CC and Maude Ivory, away from the peacekeeper. Lucy Gray, on the other hand, sits next to Sejanus which earned a teasing smile from her friend, Coriolanus sits next to him as they everyone eats.

"You weren't lying, this is amazing." Sejanus exclaims, mouth full of Y/n's dessert.

"You're being too kind now." Y/n can only shy away from the compliment.

"Told you, she's always underestimate herself." Lucy Gray low-kye scold her friend.

"True!" CC agrees, earning a glare from Y/n.

"It really is amazing." Coriolanus chimes in, "where did you learn?"

"Oh... well, when you have to feed all these mouths, that's what you have to do." Y/n explains, "and there were times where one didn't want to eat, when they were younger and didn't fully understand the situation, so I tried my best in making something tasty with what we had."

"Well, I didn't learn." Lucy Gray tries to highlight her friend's talent.

"That's because you were earning money with your guitar and performances." Y/n replies.

"Even that, not without your help." The singer insists.

"Mine?" Y/n laughs, "what help? You're the one singing beautifully everyday."

Coriolanus assist this playful banter and can't help the jealousy raising in him. He wants Y/n to joke with him like that, not with Lucy Gray. He wants to make her blush with compliments, not Sejanus.

"But you write the songs!" Lucy Gray exclaims, with a big smile.

"Not all of them!" Y/n laughs.

"The most beautiful ones, yes." Lucy Gray shots back.

"Oh shut up!" Y/n throws her friend a piece of bread.

"Did we hear any of these songs?" Coriolanus asks, curious.

"I think so," Lucy Gray answers, "plus the one I sang in the arena it's hers."

"Which one?"

"You didn't watch the games?" Sejanus asks.

"No, I did, I did, it's just that the TV we borrowed was a little broken so we couldn't hear anything." CC answers.

"Pity..." Sejanus comments, "she sang beautifully."

"Not a surprise." Y/n smiles, "so, what song was it?"

"The old Therebefore." Lucy Gray tells her, "you know it always gives me strength."

"That was yours?" Coriolanus asks, positively surprised.

"Uh.. yeah, though, I simply rearranged an old melody." Y/n explains, shaking her head dismissively.

"Told you, walking talent." Lucy Gray grins and Y/n throws another piece of bread at her.

Coriolanus is amazed, she will be a perfect first Lady, the people of Panem will love her. He's more and more realising what a perfect choice she will be.

Y/n rolls her eyes, giving up, earning a triumphant smile from Lucy Gray.

"It made all people in the auditorium cry." Coriolanus tells them, "a real moving moment."

"At least I would've gotten one last good performance before my demise." Lucy Gray says dramatically.

"Don't say that." Y/n immediately stops her, "you're here. That's all that matters."

They reach out at the same time to hold each other's hand, Sejanus looks at them with sweet eyes, Coriolanus only feels jealousy, eyes shooting daggers at Lucy Gray.

Unfortunately the things between Sejanus and Lucy Gray have been going strong. She is so in love, Y/n's never seen her so taken by someone like she is by Sejanus. The down side of her happiness is that the peacekeeper always brings his friend around. Coriolanus, in fact, insisted and convinced Sejanus to bring him everytime he visited Lucy Gray, and Sejanus, being the good friend he is, he was glad to help his best friend. They even managed to leave Coriolanus and Y/n alone, Lucy Gray too distracted by Sejanus to notice the deception. Y/n doesn't want her to notice anyway, she's happy her friend found someone she actually like, so she's going to endure a little longer for her, Lucy Gray deserves some happiness after all the horrors she saw.

That's why Y/n's now cooking in their kitchen, with Coriolanus watching her like a hawk.

"What are you making exactly?" He asks from his spot by the small table.

"It's... a apple c-cobbler." Y/n softly answers. He would listen to her soft voice all day if he could, saying his name, begging him.

"Do you need any help?" He offers, "you know I don't mind."

She hears him standing up and walking closer to her.

"It's okay, you don't ha-" she stops mid-sentence, Coriolanus' hands softly caressing her hips froze her.

"I don't mind." He whispers into her ear, thumb striking the clothed spot.

"No... uh... i-it's o-okay... uh..." she stutters, looking around for a way to get away.

"Or maybe... " he spins her around so he's looking directly into her eyes, "we can adress... this." He motions between them, getting even closer, bodies now against one another.

"Uh..?" Y/n is confused.

"Us." Coriolanus specifies, "I don't think we can ignore it any longer."

"Uh... I don't... know..." she's at loss for words, "what..?"

"I'm pretty sure, my interest is pretty obvious." He says this almost shyly, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek, "and... I think yours is too."

"My... interest?"She shakes her head, putting her hands on his arms to try and push him off, "Coriolanus..."

"I love it when you use my name, Y/n." Coriolanus says, leaning closer, ignoring how she avoids his eyes and pushes him away.

"Just..."

"Y/n!!"

"Shit.." he mutters under his breath.

"Where are you?" Lucy Gray asks.

"In the kitchen." Y/n answers, relieved Coriolanus stepped back.

"There you are." She enters the kitchen and immediately hugs her friend, Sejanus close behind her.

"Hi." He timidly says, then notices Coriolanus by the table, "hey Coryo, didn't expect to see tou here today."

There's tension between them, Lucy Gray turns her head to look at the blonde and her face drops.

"Is everything okay, Lucy Gray?" Y/n puts a hand on her friend's shoulder, reassuringly.

"Yeah, of course." She shakes her head and smiles brightly again, "what are you making?" She changes subject.

"Uh... apple cobbler." Y/n says softly.

"Mmmhh can't wait." She hums.

There's something off about this situation, since last night's performance at the Hob all three of them have been behaving weirdly. Lucy Gray was singing and after the song she went after Sejanus and Coriolanus, she was goon for some time and when she got back something in her eyes was off. She tried to wave it off, but Y/n knew her friend and she was sure something happened. Why Lucy Gray didn't want to talk to her only added to her worries.

Unfortunately the worst was yet to come.

--------------

"What do you mean you have to leave?" Y/n asks, getting more and more agitated.

"Mayfair and Billy Taupe are dead, who do you think will be blamed?" Lucy Gray snaps back as she keeps packing a small bag.

"But you didn't! How could they prove otherwise?" Y/n insists, breathing heavily.

"The mayor will surely find a way." Her friend days bitterly, then turn to look at her in the eyes, "listen, I'll be fine. This is the only way."

"How will you go, uh?" Y/n challenges, "alone in the woods."

"I... Coriolanus said he would help." Lucy Gray answers, emotionless.

"Coriolanus?!" Y/n whisper-shouts, "do you trust him?"

"I don't have much of a choice. I told you what happened, he's involved too. That has to do." The brunette sighs deeply, "you all can join me in time. I wish you could come too now, but-"

"It will draw too much attention and we would be too easy to find." Y/n finishes her sentence, "I know... but Snow?"

"I told you, he's involved too... he's the only option. Plus... I don't have anything to keep me here anymore.."

Y/n sighs, giving up, she knows Lucy Gray is still grieving Sejanus. She walks to her friend, stopping her to hug her. Lucy Gray returns the hug immediately, crying on her friend's shoulder. Y/n, then, holds her tighter, stroking her back reassuringly.

"We'll be okay. And we will join you soon." Y/n whispers. "I promise."

--------------

It's been almost a year since Lucy Gray ran away, a year since Y/n saw her friend. She hopes Lucy Gray is fine, moat importantly she hopes her friend is alive. It was hard to explain the situation to the rest of the Covey, especially the youngest one, but she managed.

A good thing about this situation is that it's also been a year since Coriolanus Snow has been seen in district 12. Rumours has it he got back to the Capitol, Y/n wishes, whatever is the truth, that he stays as far away as possible. One of their last interactions scared her so much she hardly left the house in fear of simply seeing him.

Y/n is walking back home with her basket in hand, she sold all the jewellery and cakes she made to earn some money so she was quite content as she enters the house.

"Is anyone home?" Y/n yells as she puts down the basket and takes off her patched-up coat.

"In here." A voice calls from the kitchen and Y/n is quick to walk there, freezing on the spot when the figure of Coriolanus Snow stands in her kitchen. His hair grew in this time apparently, the new haircut makes him look even more dangerous, "Hi, my love."

"Uh..." Y/n doesn't know what to do, having him in the house after all this time feels worse than a robe around her neck, "what... what are you doing here?"

"You don't seem happy." Coriolanus states, confused.

He spent a year thinking about Y/n, working hard and constantly so he could come back to 12 and take her to the Capitol. He's been thinking about her, analysing each of their interactions to the bone. And he realised something: Y/n is yet to realise the love they're destined to share, but Coriolanus is more than willing to help.

"I... I'm confused... why... why are you here? Is Lucy Gray-"

"I don't want to talk about Lucy Gray!" He snaps.

Y/n flinches and takes a step back, he sighs deeply and pass a hand through his hair.

"I'm... I'm sorry..." she apologises, not wanting to anger him more, "you... uh... you let your hair grow..."

That seems to please him, he slightly smiles, pride growing in him.

"Yeah," he walks closer to her, "I wanted to leave the Peacekeeper behind, to welcome the future president of Panem."

"Future president..." she gasps out, slowly retreating backwards, "wow.."

"You're even more beautiful than I remembered." He brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, "I missed you."

"Why are you here?" She asks, pushing his hand away.

"I'm here to take you to the Capitol with me." He simply answers, as a matter of fact.

"What?!" She exclaims, pushing him off and putting distance between them.

"You're coming home with me." He states.

"I am home." She firmly says, noticing the clench in his jaw.

"No." He shakes his head, "no, you're not."

"I'm not coming with you." She insists, "I have people to take care of."

"They will be taken care of, if you come with me." He makes sure to emphasise the 'if'.

Y/n now realises no one else's home.

"If? Coriolanus, listen-"

"No, you listen." He interrupts her once again, "there's no thinking to do here. You're coming with me, period. You come with me and your family will be cared for, if you don't... there would be consequences."

"Is that a threat?" She shakes in fear now.

"It's a promise, my love." He gets closer again, putting a hand on her cheek, "so... what do you say now?"

"You already decided... what's the point of asking, then?" She's tearing up, too scared to move.

"Say you'll come with me." He leans closer, brushing his lips against hers, "say it."

She shakes her head, lips sealed.

But Coriolanus doesn't waste any more time, he kisses her, she backs away but he chases her until her back hits the wall forcing their lips together once again.

He kisses her, but she doesn't kiss him back, the hand on her cheek moves to her neck squeezing, as a warning. She tries to push him off, but he is stronger than her, his other hand moves to her hips pulling her closer and she starts to actually struggle.

"S-stop." She manages to stutter out.

"Give into me, my love." He mutters against her skin, kissing down her neck, "come with me, you'll want for nothing more in your life."

"No..." she weakly says, as she keeps pushing him off.

"Yes." He kisses her again, completely leaning his body against her, caging her.

"Please don't... Please." Her crying only turns him on more, he thrusts his hips against her making her feel his hard-on.

Y/n stops her movement, dread in her veins prevents her from doing anything.

"Sshh, let me take care of you." He whispers into her ear, "let me show you how good I can make you feel."

"Please... no..." her breathing gets heavier and heavier as she looks at him kneeling in front of her, "Don't."

She looks at the door, wanting to flee and leave him behind.

"Don't you dare." Coriolanus orders, looking up at her, "you try to run and I'll make sure your family pays. Am I clear, my love?"

Y/n averts her eyes from the door, to the former peacekeeper kneeling in front of her.

The hunger in his eyes is enough to make her feel like a prey being caught.

He keeps looking at her as he lifts her dress up her legs, and when he pulls her underwear down he finally break the eye contact to take a proper look at his prize.

He licks his lips and gets closer to her core, inhaling her scent.

"Stop... please Coriolanus, stop." She tries again, but her plead falls to deaf ears.

Coriolanus at hearing his name coming from her he dives himself between her legs, licking and sucking all he could, finally enjoy whatever he's been dreaming about all this time... since that reaping ceremony.

Y/n gasps when he attacks her pussy with his mouth like a starved man, she looks around hoping to find something to use as a weapon or a way to escape this. She puts her hand on his head in an attempt to push him off, but it's no use, his hold is way too tight and strong for her to pull away.

"Mmhhh" he humms against her, her taste inebriates him completely.

"Shit.." she groans, her body betraying her, getting closer and closer, "shit."

Hearing this Coriolanus only doubles his efforts, he blindly grabs one of her hands and moves it to rest on his cheek.

"Mmhhh yes." He humms again, licking harder on her clit.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She tries to hold back, but it's like she has no control over her body anymore as she comes on his mouth. Her legs weakening and falling to the ground, right in front Coriolanus, face to face.

"I love you." He whispers, catching her off guard by kissing her deeply and forcefully.

She puts her hands against him, never stopping her attempts.

"Stop, stop." She mutters.

"This is just a taste of how I'm going to take care of you." He explains breathlessly, "I'm never letting you go, my love."

They stay still for a moment, Y/n too scared to move and Coriolanus is simply enjoying the moment.

He finally got his girl, but he's always being certain of it, after all it's in his family.

Snow lands on top.

[littlelamy]

𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙤𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣

𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙦𝙪𝙚!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝐱 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞

Rafe Cameron never thought he'd end up here.

Wedged into the corner of a darkened club, cheap whiskey burning in his throat, and his pulse thrumming louder than the bass rattling the floors, his blue eyes tracked you. Every move you made, every tantalizing sway of your hips, every lingering brush of your hands over your skin, had him gripped.

It had started so innocently—or so he liked to tell himself. He’d been dragged to the club for his birthday, Topper and Kelce insisting they celebrate properly. He hadn’t expected much—just another blur of drinks, loud music, and meaningless conversation to fill the night.

Then he saw you.

You weren’t like the others. Sure, the club was crawling with girls who wanted attention, who wanted someone like him to throw money at their feet, but you? You didn’t ask for it. You commanded it. The way you moved, so slow and deliberate, made it impossible to look away. Like you knew you could ruin a man with just one look, one brush of your fingers against his jaw, one roll of your hips—and you reveled in it. You teased.

Rafe was fucked from the start.

At first, it was just interest. Curiosity, maybe. He’d drop in here and there, slipping into the back where the shadows swallowed him whole. He told himself he was just here for the distraction. But that didn’t explain why he knew every one of your routines now, why he waited with bated breath for the exact moment the lights shifted to purple and gold, signaling you were next.

The first time you looked at him—really looked at him—Rafe forgot how to breathe. It was during a slower song, the kind that demanded every man in the room stop and pay attention. You strolled toward the front of the stage with that lazy, knowing smile, and when your eyes caught his? A flicker of recognition. Maybe you’d seen him before, lingering in the shadows. Maybe not. Either way, it didn’t matter.

You crooked your finger, a silent dare, and Rafe…

Rafe didn’t move.

He couldn’t.

That night, he swore he could hear your laugh in his head as he left the club. Mocking. Sweet. Dangerous.

It spiraled after that.

What started as occasional visits turned into excuses. Late-night drives. Ignored phone calls. Missed parties. Anything to make sure he ended up in your club, in your orbit. He justified it to himself, said he just liked the show.

But he knew it was more than that.

It was the way you owned the room, your confidence radiating like fire and drawing him closer, closer, closer until he swore he could feel the heat of your skin even from across the room.

It was the way you smiled like you had secrets—like you knew his secrets.

And it was the fact that every time you looked at him, you stayed just out of reach, leaving him stranded with nothing but the ache in his chest and a taste of what he couldn’t have.

You had Rafe starving for you, and you fucking knew it.

It came to a head on a humid Friday night.

Rafe’s veins buzzed with anticipation as he slid into his usual spot—close enough to see you, but far enough to remain unnoticed. Or so he thought.

Tonight, you wore black. Simple, sleek, the fabric hugging every curve like it was molded to your body. The crowd murmured with anticipation as the lights dimmed and the music started to hum low and slow through the speakers. Rafe swallowed thickly, gripping the glass in his hand as you stepped onto the stage.

God, you were something else. A siren wrapped in silk. You moved to the music like you felt it in your bones, rolling your hips to the beat, your fingers dragging over your collarbone and down, down… just stopping short of teasing the crowd too much. Your smile was wicked as you turned, back arching, giving everyone a view that had half the room groaning under their breath.

Rafe couldn’t take it. His jaw clenched, the tension in his body coiling tighter with every second.

Then you turned to face the crowd again, and this time?

Your eyes landed right on him.

His heart stopped.

You tilted your head slightly, that teasing smile curving your lips, and without breaking eye contact, you crooked your finger again. The same dare. The same challenge.

Come closer.

And this time, Rafe moved.

He didn’t know what the hell he was thinking as he approached the stage. The crowd around him blurred into nothing, all he could see was you. When he reached the edge of the stage, you leaned down, face so close to his that he swore he could feel your breath on his lips.

“Took you long enough,” you murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. The words shot straight through him, leaving him raw, exposed.

He wanted to say something back—a quip, a challenge, something to take the power from you—but all he managed was a shaky inhale as you straightened and turned your back to him again.

This time, though, you didn’t stop there.

The crowd erupted into shouts and whistles as you stepped off the stage entirely, heels clicking against the floor as you made your way toward him. Rafe went still, barely able to process what was happening as you came closer, closer—until you stood directly in front of him, eyes glittering with amusement.

“Sit,” you said, nodding toward an empty chair nearby.

He didn’t argue. Couldn’t.

Rafe sank into the chair, his heart thudding hard in his chest as you closed the space between you. The music shifted, slower now, the kind of rhythm that begged for trouble. You started to move again, this time just for him.

Your hands ghosted over your body, teasing him with every brush of your fingers against your skin. You swayed your hips slowly, your gaze locked on his like you were daring him to look away. Rafe’s throat went dry, his hands curling into fists against his thighs as you leaned closer, so close your chest nearly brushed against his.

“Can’t touch me,” you whispered, your lips so close to his ear he swore he could feel them. “Rules are rules, baby.”

Rafe let out a shaky breath, his jaw ticking as you pulled back just enough to smirk at him. He felt like he was losing his mind. You moved around him slowly, dragging your fingers over his shoulders, your nails scraping lightly against his neck as you leaned down to whisper again.

“Do you like watching me, Rafe?”

His head snapped up at the sound of his name on your lips, his eyes dark and wild as they met yours. You didn’t wait for an answer. You didn’t need one. You knew exactly what you were doing to him.

The music continued, but Rafe wasn’t sure he could last another second. His skin felt too tight, his chest heaving as you circled him again, your fingers grazing the line of his jaw as you leaned in one last time.

“You’re not very good at hiding it,” you murmured, your voice dripping with amusement.

“Hiding what?” Rafe rasped, the words barely audible.

You smiled.

“How bad you want me.”

Rafe didn’t remember the rest of the night. The club, the music, the other people—it all faded into nothing. All he could think about was you. Your voice, your touch, the way you looked at him like you could see straight through him.

He was fucking wrecked, and it was all your fault.

And the worst part?

He couldn’t stop.

Rafe didn’t want to stop.

He wanted more.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

credits to @anitalenia for the divider <3

[b14augrana]

Coastlines

You and your mami go on vacation

Alexia Putellas x child!reader

masterlist

Warnings: ✖️, this is just fluff

A/N: this is my first time writing a child!reader fic 🥴 everyone say hi to our baby putellas!

i know i had a poll up for a few hours but i’ve just realised that ad astra per aspera (which won by a long shot) will probably take a while to write because it’s gonna be pretty long and in depth, and i wrote this quicker than expected so i might as well publish it. enjoy and let me know what u think!

“Capri, cariña. Can you say Capri?”

You smile at your mami in the mirror as she braids your hair, and you respond to her, “Capi!”

“Very close. Ca-pri, come on, you can do it,” Alexia coos, securing the end of your braid with a little rubber band. Your eyebrows knit together as you concentrate extra hard on pronouncing the word right for Mami. “Capi– noooo, that not it. Ca-pri… Capri?”

“You did it!” Alexia cheers, clapping her hands together. You beam immediately, copying her gesture as you clap your little hands and grin at her in the mirror. “Capri, am I saying it?” you ask eagerly, turning your head to look at her.

“Perfect,” she replies, placing a soft kiss to your forehead as she holds onto your shoulders gently. “Now you can pick what to wear in your hair.”

“Can you pick for me, mami? Too many, hard to pick,” you say.

You stand up and toddle over to your box of hair accessories. Alexia still remembers when you were half the age you are now, and you could barely stand up. You’ve come so far.

You lift the box up, and it’s not very heavy or big, but you feel strong lifting it all on your own without Mami.

She’s about to choose when you reach in and pull out a colourful bandana. It’s got a design on it that represents a neighbourhood, and it’s printed in purple-blue and pink stripes. In other words, it’s a 21/22 Barça third kit that Alexia repurposed.

About a month ago, she asked you what you wanted to wear in your hair, much like she did today. You got up and told her to wait, then you ran out of her bedroom.

When you came back, you had your tiny-versioned third kit on your head and a beaming smile on your face as you told her you were ready to go.

Alexia had multiple copies of the third kit from the 2022 season, so she transformed it into a little bandana you could properly wear on your hair.

“You want to wear that one?” she asks, and you nod confidently, handing it to her so she can tie it on your head.

She spins you around and ties it just above your hairline, smiling fondly as she spins you back around and admires her work. “Muy guapa, cariña. Put on your shoes and we can go to the beach.”

Mami stands up and walks to her suitcase, then she grabs her flip flops. You remember that you have the same flip flops as Mami and naturally, you want to match with her, so you run to pick up your own flip flops that are left beside your open suitcase.

You appear beside Alexia and stamp your foot to draw attention to your footwear. “Mami, look! I’m just like you!” you giggle.

She hopes that one day, other people will say the same thing when you grow up and play football for Barça just like her, keeping the Putellas legacy alive for another generation.

All she’s ever wanted out of a child is one who will inherit her footballing prestige, and she thinks you’re exactly that, because you love to kick your mini football around the house back at home, and you’ve got an eye for hitting it against the couch.

For now, she smiles at you, sticking her foot outwards while you’re amused by your matching shoes.

“Let’s go to the beach now,” Alexia says, offering you her hand. You happily grab ahold of her index finger with your entire hand, since that’s all you can fit.

Your little bag full of beach essentials is on your back as you and Mami walk to the beach. The bag of actual essentials is on Alexia’s back. Italy is a very nice country, and there’s so many colourful houses in Capri.

As you totter down the streets alongside Mami, you pass many people. To each one of them, you wave hello, and you grin every time they wave back at you as you turn to your Mami and tell her about your new friends that waved at you.

You’re totally enamoured of the neighbourhoods you two walk through to end up at the beach.

Immediately, you bend down to swoop your hand through the soft sand and laugh at the sensation. “Sand!” you exclaim, holding a fistful up to Alexia.

“That’s very nice, but what about the water?” she responds, motioning to the clear light blue water ahead. Your eyes light up, and you tug Alexia towards the water, though she doesn’t go far because you’re only tiny and not that strong yet.

She laughs and pulls you back towards her, picking you up in one fluid motion. “We can’t swim yet, you need to put on sunscreen!”

You huff and fold your arms stubbornly, frowning until Alexia gently tickles you in the stomach and sends you into a giggle fit which brings back your grin.

“Sunscreen first and then you can swim for as long as you want, I promise,” Alexia says, walking to a nearby beach umbrella with you in her arms. She sets you down, and once she lays out the beach mat, you plop down and get ready for her to put the sunscreen on.

She unpacks the bag and puts your water bottle and beach towel out on the mat, along with the sunscreen and her own water bottle. You unpack your own bag and pull out your mermaid toys and arm floaties.

“Mami, blow?” you toddle over to Alexia with the floaties in your arms, thrusting them forwards for her to blow up.

“In a minute cariña, sit down first so I can put your sunscreen on and then I’ll blow up your floaties. Vale?” She takes the floaties from you anyway and places them down beside her.

You nod, bum shuffling across the mat until you’re sitting in front of Alexia. You giggle as the cold sunscreen touches your face, and you scrunch your nose with a little gummy smile.

You’re just the bubbliest baby she’s ever seen. You have her smile and the same almond eyes, which disappear whenever you smile. Everything about you is tiny and adorable, and Alexia can’t help but be in awe of you the entire time.

Many people she knew had plans to spend their vacation with others. Alexia elected to spend hers with you, and she’s unapologetically glad she did, because now she’s on an island off the coast of Italy with the person she loves most and she’s the happiest she could be.

“All done,” Alexia says, rubbing the excess sunscreen on her own arms. You clap your hands and your smile hasn’t faltered. “Can we swim, Mami?” you ask hopefully, but your smile finally fades when Alexia shakes her head.

“I’m not swimming yet, I’m sorry cariña. Maybe later.”

“Not swim without Mami!” you protest, smacking your hands against the mat. You pout and cross your arms once again, kicking your floaties away.

Alexia frowns, grabbing your floaties back as she tries to restore your good mood. “I’ll swim later! Don’t you want to go see if you can find any fishies?”

You turn your back on her, shaking your head adamantly. “No!”

Mami sighs and begins to blow up your floaties anyway. When she’s done, she puts them in her lap. “You still need to put your floaties on.”

You let her slip them onto your arms, but afterwards you go back to crossing them tightly over your chest. “No mami, no swim,” you state.

“Okay okay, you little monkey,” Alexia laughs, standing up and running to the water. You’re quick to follow her, and you stumble along happily behind her with a newfound smile on your face that’s wider than ever. You and Mami go crashing into the water with a big splash.

Alexia pops up from underneath the water, and she shakes the water from her face and flicks it on you. “Mami, watch out!” you laugh, splashing her back by slapping your toys on the surface of the water.

She laughs as well, and soon you’re both splashing each other with your hands and toys. She puts you on her back and wades through the water, the pair of you floating calmly in the clearest sea you’ve ever seen.

“I like Ca-pri,” you say, holding onto Mami tightly as she swims. “Me too, cariña. It’s very nice,” Alexia replies, and the water laps at your back while she speaks.

Eventually, when the water is shallow enough, Mami lets you off her back and you can play with your toys in the water. Your bandana is helpful because your head doesn’t burn in the sun while you play, and you have more fun.

Alexia watches you fondly as you kick your little legs to stay afloat and play with your mermaids until it’s time to go and you trudge out of the water, teeth chattering slightly. The water and the sun kept you warm, but now it’s starting to set and you’re getting cold.

Mami wraps you in your towel and deflates your floaties while you put on your flip flops again, and then she packs your toys and floaties into your bag. “Come on cariña,” she says once you’re all packed up, giving you her hand again, “Do you want ice cream?”

“Yes! Love ice cream!” you exclaim, doing a little jump of happiness before gripping onto Alexia’s index finger again. “Let’s go get ice cream then, hm?” she adds, and you let go of her finger for a moment so you can clap your hands excitedly.

“Ice cream, ice cream!”

The chances of you pursuing the same career as Alexia used to be her biggest concern, but now there’s so many other things she looks forward to, like vacationing in lots more places with her carbon copy and eating gelato in Italy while the sun goes down.

She wouldn’t have it any other way.

[p0orbaby]

sick lessi fic 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️ clingy gf

taking care of that cutie

-

Alessia is splayed across your sofa like an artist’s rendering of human misery. Her hoodie—an oversized navy monstrosity with a faint Arsenal logo she swore she didn’t steal from Leah—clings to her like damp moss. The grey sweatpants are worse. They’re not hers, nor are they yours. They came from the pile of clothes you were supposed to donate three years ago but never did because you thought you might need them someday. This is the day. You resent the foresight.

She’s been coughing sporadically for the past fifteen minutes, which is to say, coughing exactly every 47 seconds. You know because you’ve been counting. Alessia calls it “a tickly throat.” You call it self-inflicted.

“Stop licking your lips. You’ll make them worse,” you say, watching her smear yet another layer of cherry ChapStick over the crime scene that is her mouth.

“I have to,” she whines, drawing out the words like a five-year-old begging for a toy. Her voice is raw, a strange mix of gravel and helium.

“You don’t. You really, really don’t”

She ignores you, opting instead to roll onto her stomach in a manner that could only be described as unnecessarily dramatic. Her head flops onto the throw pillow you bought at a John Lewis clearance sale. The tag is still attached.

“I think I’m dying,” she declares, muffled by the pillow.

“You’re not dying, Less. You’ve got a runny nose and a bad attitude” you deadpan, sitting cross-legged on the rug in front of her, a bowl of soup balanced precariously on your knee. It’s the tin stuff—Heinz, chicken, condensed. She hates it. It’s why you made it.

“It’s the flu,” she says. “I Googled it”

“You can’t even spell ‘flu’ properly when you text”

“That’s because I was using my thumbs.”

“You always use your thumbs.”

“Rude.” She huffs, tugging the blanket tighter around her. It’s your favourite one, the soft grey one you bought when you first moved in together. Now it smells faintly of menthol rub and despair.

“You know, my mum used to make me this lemon and ginger tea with honey when I was sick,” she says suddenly, wistful, like she’s narrating a nature documentary.

“I’m not your mum”

“She also used to rub Vicks on my chest,” she continues, undeterred.

“Still not your mum”

There’s a pause, her blue eyes narrowing at you. “You’re actually a terrible girlfriend”

“Debatable”

She sneezes. A full-body event. You flinch, watching in real-time as her face contorts, her nose scrunching, her eyes shutting like a malfunctioning robot. The sound is seismic. You wonder if the neighbours heard it.

“Bless me,” she says automatically.

“No”

She sniffles pathetically, then gestures weakly towards the coffee table. “Can you hand me a tissue?”

You glance at the tissue box—one metre away from her outstretched hand. “No. Work for it”

Her lips twitch, the faintest flicker of a smile, but it vanishes as she rolls onto her side. “Why are you like this?”

You shrug, finishing the last spoonful of her soup. It’s cold now, congealed in a way that makes you feel vaguely ill. You wonder if this is what marriage will look like—fighting over tissues, stealing each other’s soup, and coexisting in a quiet ballet of passive-aggressive care.

As you scrape the bowl clean, Alessia shifts again, her head now hanging off the side of the sofa like some deranged bat.

“You’re so lucky I love you”

I know,” you reply, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead. She’s warm—not feverish, just Alessia warm.

For a moment, there’s quiet. She shifts again, her head now resting on the arm of the sofa, her eyes fluttering shut. You stand to pull the blanket up higher around her shoulders and tuck it in gently.

And just before you leave the room, she murmurs, soft and sleepy, “Love you”

You smile to yourself, the words lingering in the air like a balm. “Love you too, Less”

[yzzart]

"𝐀 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠."

pairing: peacekeeper!Coriolanus Snow x f!reader.

summary: your voice guided, with dignity, the life of Coriolanus.

warnings: explicit words, reader having Coriolanus wrapped around her finger, mention of Coriolanus' mother + take a look at the masterlist!

word count: 1.186!

notes: okay, i wrote this listening to "Pearls" by Sade, which i consider a work of art and i recommend listening to it while reading! — enjoy this!

The ears of Coriolanus were witnesses, which might be considered honorable, of a pleasant song unknown to him; but, the young boy's chest would certainly acclaim to hear it again on another occasion.

The song was catchy, and managed to accompany a calming feeling in Coriolanus; something that, since his punishment, had not been found in him. — He saw himself in a memory of his childhood, during the nights when his dear mother hummed to him until he closed his eyes and fell into a peaceful sleep.

Coriolanus missed his mother every night and every damn day.

However, it was not, in fact, the song that provided those feelings so gratifying and exceptional in Coriolanus' chest. — Warming Snow boy's cold and wounded heart. — but, yes, the voice of whoever was singing.

The delicate voice, pronouncing each word with care, was so angelic and put those who listened to her singing in trouble as it mesmerized them and held their attention with vigor; so, as Coriolanus was. — He found himself trapped in you, and he had no desire to free himself.

Coriolanus, for the first time, presented himself as a bird that did not wish or intend to leave its gilded cage. — Perhaps, it was an exaggerated, drastic statement, or it was, in fact, what he was experiencing.

Your voice was divine; you were divine. — And Coriolanus agrees that your mother would love to hear you sing.

The birds, which were present in the fresh and free environment of the forest, seemed to accompany your song. — Coriolanus preferred that they proceed in silence, just flying between the trees and you, but he didn't waste time worrying about a trivial thing. — He just wanted to keep listening to you, delighting and trapped in your domain.

The forest was before you and Coriolanus lying, interconnected, on the ground covered with a clean sheet and with a few grains of earth; Coriolanus' cold arm around your neck and you clinging to his chest.

Your fingers roamed Coriolanus's broad, clothed chest; his shirt was still a little wet from the contact of the water drops that remained on his body. — That didn't bother you, especially because dressed like him you were in the same situation. — Developing a long affection, a movement of imaginary drawings, and complemented more comfort in Coriolanus; even with your head in your backpack with the intention of turning it into a pillow, completely uncomfortable.

But the young boy still had his eyes closed, as if he were in his old bed with his thin, worn blanket and with you next to him; even if his bed can't fit him properly. — Deepened in his voice and the attention he received. — Coriolanus was in the paradise he was once told about.

Until an unwelcome and inopportune silence revealed itself, not even the noises and songs of the birds continued, only the natural sounds of trees and branches struggling. — Coriolanus was surprised, feeling misunderstood and uncomfortable.

Your song is gone, like a deer that has seen its hunter or like a snowflake that has melted; an unpleasant, and even unhappy, impression for Coriolanus. — Not even his punishment, his pain at having been humiliated and defamed, bothered Snow as much as not hearing your voice.

The current peacekeeper opened his eyes, revealing his deep blue irises; that caused commotion and emotions never felt by you, by your naive heart. — Blessed and scrupulous eyes, just like his surname. — Looking to find out what could have caused your silence.

And so Coriolanus found your dreamy and enchanting eyes looking at him; shining against him. — It was, indeed, impressive how you transmitted your passion and a flame of pleasure so easily into your orbits; Coryo was intrigued by this.

Was Coriolanus truly worthy of such admiration and passion? — Your eyes completed his slender face, with mature and serious features, which still contained his pure features; memorizing every sign, every tip of his face as if it were the last time. — Did he deserve that?

"Oh, Coryo…" — His nickname came out delicately, almost a careful whisper, like a little secret from your lips; you had a tone of caution and moderation. — "I thought you fell asleep." — Coriolanus noticed a movement on the inside of your cheek, you bit it nervously.

A sleepy and presumptuous wave, influenced by your song, began to slowly guide Coriolanus' consciousness before the sudden interruption. — His stubborn and heavy eyes stated the fact and, inside you, he identified it before he himself understood it.

You knew that young boy like the back of your hand, like a map that you observed and analyzed for so long until you memorized it with desire and ambition. — Something incompressible and bitter in some eyes, however, something so worthy for him; something he never received in his ordinary life.

"Again..." — Now, an intensely hoarse and robust tone of voice vibrated in your head and mind, awakening something in you; it was a possible incomplete request coming from Coriolanus. — Something that quickly became confusing.

Not understanding, in a way, your furrowed eyebrows presented themselves to the boy, wanting him to at least specify what he was asking for. — Your lips were pressed together, still nervous, and curled in waiting. — And, during the seconds, the familiar thin fingers with some cuts, caused by the current duties, were involved between the strands of your hair.

Even with the heavy feeling of pure sleep, and insisting against it, Coriolanus distributed a sweet and melodic affection to you; it wasn't a surprising action, of course, however, in a certain way and aspect it was something different. — A reason, a feeling, emotion; a way to thank you for being so lucky to have you, to be with you. — Comforting and confronting the certainty that he deserved you.

"Sing again…" — Coriolanus uttered his request confidentially, as an act of rebellion against his silence and stubbornness, seeming like it would be his last request. — He was trapped in you, perhaps, even wrapped around your little finger, being able to build and destroy lives by your soul.

The heavens asked for mercy for the burning passion that burned uncontrollably and thrashed in the Snow boy's freezing chest. — Because they knew, and had in their minds, what he would do for you.

You wouldn't dare deny that request, which held itself in a dedicated place in your mind; your heart was racing, and Coriolanus felt it, on such an exaggerated level between words and fallacies. — And the shy, at the same time, exalted smile curved on your lips; trying to focus and return to reality.

And, for the countless time, you found yourself in love with Coriolanus.

Coriolanus listened and witnessed a brief, enchanting laugh from his lover, as you moved even deeper into his chest. — Wanting to fit into it, like a head-scratching piece. — And at no time or for any reason, he removed his fingers from your hair.

Your voice was present again in Coriolanus's ears, among the melodic noises of the birds and the contacts between the trees and branches; Your voice was part of that environment. — It was the same song, there was nothing different or any modification. — The life of Coriolanus had seduced itself into her.

The young boy felt that feeling of peace around him, becoming part of his body and mind. — He felt protected and loved, just like little Coriolanus with his mother.

[emchante]

soooo... the idea of a private chat with softcore porn streamer!max has been cooking in my brain..

reader is quite nervous when they check the time and see it's a couple of minutes before their scheduled call. they got new lingerie after finding out max' fav colour is royal blue to surprise him, just before max calls, reader adjusts the camera to show off everything below their face and when the call connects- max has to hold back a moan bc goddamn... how did reader know his favourite colour?

well hi there, you absolutely look ravishing.. blue, huh? you just happen to like that colour or did you plan to make me horny from the start?

my hormones are going CRAZY please send help

🩵

🩵 NONNIE!! ur always cooking up the best ideas, i’m 🫣 at reading this myself.

18+ — minors dni.

are you ready?

that’s the notification that pops up on your screen as you check the time. it’s still a couple minutes until the scheduled time, so you give yourself those last few moments to try calm your nerves.

the royal blue lingerie clings to your body in all the right ways, the fabric soft and delicate, yet daring enough to make you feel like a walking temptation. the lace cups of the bra sculpt your chest perfectly, the intricate floral patterns drawing the eye with their sheer elegance.

the panties are a perfect match— high-cut to elongate your legs, with a teasingly sheer panel across the front. the same lace detail wraps around your hips, accentuating your curves, while the satin waist and glides across your skin like a whisper.

you take a deep breath, telling max you’re ready whenever he is. you take the time to readjust your camera, making sure your full body is in frame. there’s only a peek of your head in the frame, showing max your lips and then it cuts off.

you don’t have anymore time to fix anything as the ringing begins to sing through the monitor of your pc. you reach over, hitting ‘accept call’ before you sit back, waiting for the lines to sync.

the first thing you hear from max is a gasp, watching his eyes widen as they roam over his screen, taking in every inch of you that he can see.

“well hi there,” he laughs lowly, clearly caught off guard by the sight of you. “you look absolutely ravishing,” he continues, licking his plump lips as his eyes continue to take in everything.

you blush at his words, smiling as you run your hands along your thighs, sitting properly for him. “was it worth the wait?” you ask, hands moving upwards to trail across your torso. your hands gently cup your breasts, thumbs poking at your sensitive nipples, letting out a small mewl for max.

the deep exhale and flushed cheeks is enough to tell you yes, it was worth the wait. “i’d wait lifetimes to see you, liefje,” he winks at the camera, before he sits right back against his chair. “hm.. blue though? did you just happen to like that colour, or was there another reason for it?” he asks, eyes darkening at the way your breath hitches.

“i—” is all you manage to breathe out, before a small whine escapes your throat. max smirks, realising he has the upperhand now.

“did you plan to make me horny from the get go?” he asks, but doesn’t give you any time to respond. “because it’s working, you know,” he confirms, moving his hand down to his grey sweatpants and oh.

you can see the outline of his erect cock through the soft fabric, and you stare at his crotch with want. not that he can see that though, but he watches the way your lips drop open, tongue running along your bottom lip.

“just the thought of you is enough to get me going, you know? the teasing you do in chat, the name-calling through donations,” he lists off, as his thumb strokes his clothed erection. “but now? seeing you like this? i don’t know how i’m going to last,” he tells you lowly, a groan escaping his throat as he squeezes himself.

“start touching yourself from the top of your body liefje, and then you can work your way down for me.”

GOOD GOD IM?? BLUSHING AT THIS?? need him sooo badly..

[beddybites]

Do you have some REALLY old sketches or drawings of kny characters you could show us, like maybe before your artstyle developed? 😋 (Idk I'm just so curious how you ended up with this fluffy adorable style bc I LOVE IT T-T)

oh my god i absolutely do--

lets use muichiro as an example

the first drawing was from 2019, to give you an idea of what my art looked like at the time

i had no idea how i wanted to go about drawing humans. at the time it was drilled to me i should draw more realistically, so my work suffered greatly. this is why the hair is so messy and the face just looks so... walten-filesy, i guess

the second drawing was from early 2023, when i tried drawing muichiro again as a result of catching up on demon slayer!

i was still not drawing humans, so you can tell i was kinda experimenting a bit with the brushes. i color picked from his official design

i stopped drawing him for a few months, as i really hated how it turned out. i ultimately gave up on my art for a bit

then, at the end of the swordsmith village arc, i tried again. i ended up getting really attached to all of the hashira, so i drew them little profiles-- as shown in the third image

this is where you can see im staring to develop my style properly. i came to terms with the fact that i wanted a more cartoony style, and i started to embrace it. i also made my own color palette to better fit my art style

from then on, i was fixated on demon slayer, and with muichiro being my favorite, i drew him constantly. the fourth image was drawn a couple months later, after the baby hashira craze

you can see how much it was changing. the detail in the eyes, the way i drew the hair, his palette, etc. through constantly practicing and drawing him, i developed my style more and more

the fifth image comes from the "hugging muichiro" series, in which i had to draw muichiro nine different times

i began studying art styles i really liked, and particularly analyzed the way muichiro was drawn in the manga. i loved his hair, and tried to replicate it in my style. you can also see i revised the palette a bit more to better compliment my work!

finally, the sixth image-- my more recent style!

his current rendition really just comes from me having drawn him so many times. my style just grew and grew and grew! i modified his color palette even more, making his hair more blue tinted and giving him a cool color palette

that saying "practice makes perfect" really does reign true tbh. the reason my style is the way it is was because i kept practicing and revising my work, and i would adopt things i like from other people, such as gotouge themself

i hope this helps!!!

my art literally started off looking like That. trust . everyone has potential!