#i deserve so much better and i KNOW that but hes hot and smart and has such cool friends

[476b]

.

[itsalwaysdark]

and also it doesnt even matter if i miraculously get a job tmrw bc we don't have a car . and im too out of shape to walk anywhere bc everything is far away . so i genuinely dont jnow what to do

[aizawaondrugs]

Okay, it's a really popular trope that Danny gets rid of Jason's pit madness by cleansing the nasty ecto in him BUT!

Neverborn babies are created by two ghosts mixing their ecto together. (or maybe this is just fanon? idk, it's a crossover anyway🙌)

So I raise y'all:

Jason isn't contaminated by the pits and his ecto isn't nasty because of them. He's just really fucking traumatized and the Pit Rage part of him is literally his fucked up emotional state marinating in his ecto. There's actually no Pit Rage, he's just super fucking emotional and super fucking traumatized and mentally unstable, though he's working on that.

Danny? Poor, Danny "I want to help!" Fenton? Should've taken him to Frostbite but managed to mix his ecto into Jason's to try and cleanse the "contamination" out of it instead. Like an idiot.

Jason? He's... ghost pregnant and weirdly okay with it. He likes kids, there are no actual pregnancy symptoms to fuck up his mood. He's actually much happier now that he has something to look forward to! Frostbite said that taking care of his mental and emotional health will take care of the Pit Rage so that's also covered. Danny is sleeping on his couch. He has his own place but Jason thinks he deserves to sleep on the couch and he can and will enforce it.

Danny? Total and utter panic. He's a dad! Again if Ellie counts! What the fuck he doesn't know anything about kids or normal people things! Will the kid be full ghost because he had unknowing ghost sex with the hot revenant? Or maybe a halfa because they're both at least half alive? Is there a precedent for this?! Clockwork? CLOCKWORK HELP HIM!

Jazz? Sooooooo angry at her stupid fucking little brother. Of all the irresponsible, dumb shit he could've done this wasn't something she ever imagined! He truly outdone himself. All he needed to do was take the revenant to the Far Frozen to be treated! And what did Danny do? HE KNOCKED HIM UP! For someone so smart her little brother truly is fucking stupid!

Ellie? She's very excited! Danny and her might've mutually agreed to be cousins/siblings but that didn't mean he wasn't a better father to her than Vlad. It never was a high bar to clear but still. Baby sibling!

The Fentons? Oblivious. But when they find out? Ancients help them all.

The rest of the batfam? Also oblivious but something just isn't right with Jason. They will find out what. And when they do? Complete and utter chaos. Alfred is mildly disappointed, Bruce shut down because grandbaby and the rest are menaces. Duke is offering his services as superpowered babysitter for the superpowered baby lol

Frostbite? Shaking his head. He knew the Great One was impulsive in his youth, never really having time to truly think through his actions in those early days but he thought Danny grew out of it. Apparently, he didn't. Volunteered to be Jason's primary doctor.

(Vlad? In ghost prison lol)

[koalayoo]

Men who talk a certain way.

They carry themselves with elegance, talk with a poised cadence unique to them. They hold themselves upright and have an air of superiority. A cunning look, signature smirk, firm hand; these are staples of their character, they know how to strike a deal. Whether for their people or their own gain, they intimidate those to gain an advantage no matter how many exploits gone through or people exploited.

People either love or fear them.

They’re important.

It’s no surprise that they sit at the centre of the table at a meeting, commanding attention. All eyes are on them, gripping their every word. Prompt nods and murmurs of agreements follow. They’re smart too. Incredible wit and perceptiveness as they continuously glance at everyone, especially you.

Fuck, and they’re hot too.

It makes your blood run hot. Jolts shoot throughout your body and you avert your gaze. It was stupid to you to be losing your cool for a man who felt indifferent about your existence. Maybe that isn’t the right word. 

Sometimes, you would question whether he hated you. Whenever you needed a pen, your hands brushed against one another for a second and he would quickly pull back as if being stung by a bee with a slight scowl forming on his face. If the piles of paper you needed to finish took too long, he would be adamant you finish for the night, which is all fine and dandy if he wasn’t looking for help from others to complete your work. He even reprimanded you, talked to you in that familiar stern tone once for not having your priorities in place when a stranger came up to you in a flirtatious manner as if you could control that. 

He pissed you off. 

Why couldn’t he care about you like a normal person?

However, you were wrong about all of it. He cared too much.

When your fingers grazed him he was ridden with guilt, these were the same hands he would think about at night. Imagine tracing the sharp edges of his skin. He would shut his eyes and throw his head back, replacing his hands with your own. Try to commit the soft feel of yours to his. Would you go slow or fast? He wondered. How would you hold him? Would you let him make a mess? His thoughts would trail on and on questioning your grip, your face, what you would say.

So, it was no surprise when he saw you working yourself to exhaustion that he wanted you to rest. That was his duty after all. Only he could do that. The eyes that he desperately wanted to see glazed over with a lust filled haze needed to be well rested first. That way, he could slowly see them become drunk for him, turning red, bloodshot from just how well he would treat you.

And it was especially no surprise that when another person had the audacity to want you too, he had to stop them. Sure, you didn’t deserve the scolding but he would make you feel so much better later on. He just had to be patient.

Had to keep his tone steady and tame. Pretend to treat you just like everyone else. Even if you thought he hated you. He could fuck you like that too if you wanted. He would give you anything you wanted. However, you didn’t deserve to know how depraved he truly was.

There was a thought that lingered at the forefront of his mind. If you found out just how he imagined you, would you leave? He figured you might feel disgusted, a man of his caliber, his power, wanting to succumb to you. And so he continued to talk. Continued to keep his tone steady. Keep his tone tame. 

He would keep himself in line; refined. Because if you found out how he was imagining you, perhaps then this man would truly feel fear.

fantasising about...

Sylus, NEUVILLETTE, Jing Yuan, Welt, Sunday, DAN HENG, Artem, Zhongli!, Gepard, Alhaitham?, Cyno ...and anyone else you're thinking of

Hope you liked this! Inspired by the song 'Talk' by Hozier. Specifically the line, "So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you." Please give it a listen! It was in my Spotify Top 5 it's so good and captures the vibe I was trying to go for with this. Sorry for the yap. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!

[cregansdingdong]

ᴍᴇʀᴄʏ.

Cregan Stark x fem!reader | no use of y/n | warnings: NSFW, porn without plot, m!receiving oral, very sloppy blowjob good stuff, starts off slow but then there's some face-fucking, swearing, one *tiny* face smack (its not bad i promise), he’s gonna come in her throat for giving him attitude; yeah the gif is the perfect representation for this tbh

Hot stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

“What was I supposed to do then? Refuse the Lord Commander?” Cregan raises a brow, head tilted up at the ceiling as his wife stood there in front of his desk, hands on her hips. “I didn’t say that, Cregan. He could’ve waited a moment rather than storm into breakfast. And for what? To report a runaway from Castle Black? He could’ve sent a raven and saved himself all the trouble. I think he just wanted a small getaway.” He barks out a laugh at her accusation. “And I think you’re spoiled. My spoiled little wife who does not like having my attention taken away.”

“And so what if I don’t?” She huffs, lips morphing into a scowl. “Especially not during meal times—you’re a busy man and breakfast is Cregan time, not Lord Stark. My time with my husband. Lord Commander Markus surely was exhausted from his journey—but the entire thing was needlessly frantic. You are not a dog he may call on the moment he prefers it.” Cregan, since the day they'd married, had been a fairly patient man. She had a southern temper, which he had to learn how to douse and maintain just as she did. That's not to say his wife wasn't capable of controlling herself—she merely didn't care how she spoke to him.

His glance is lined with warning, but she either didn't catch it or ignored it completely. He guesses the latter. “Those sorts of matters are my responsibility. Deserters must be punished by my hand, wife. That is the way of the North, which you know well by now. Refrain from comparisons.” Neither of them were backing down. “Of course that is the only thing you take away from what I'm saying.” She scoffs. “My comparison is correct. When he calls, you bark. When he arrives, you heel. Are you his Warden Wolf or his pup? Because I'm not sure I can tell the difference any—”

“Get on your knees.”

“...what?” The surprise on her face would be etched into his memory forever. “On your knees. I won’t tell you again, wife.” His voice was low in the quiet of the room; daunting, even. “Right here.” Cregan scoots his chair back from the desk, thighs spread, gray eyes unblinking as he waits. She debated walking away, but she knew better. He watched as she took a few meager steps around his desk, the hem of her gown slowly gathering on the floor. Maybe she'd pushed him too far this time. “I think you've forgotten yourself—who's wife you are.” He squeezes her chin in his large hand, pleased by her soft sound of protest. “Yes, you have.” He grunts, stopping the words from leaving her mouth. “And now, you’re going to do exactly what I tell you—when I tell you. Do you understand?”

He seemed fairly satisfied with her little nod. “Good, pup. Unlace my breeches.” His wife reaches out to fumble with the ties after only a moment, his hand releasing the grip on her flushed face. She tugs the laces with a fervor, feeling him harden under her fingertips. It didn’t take much, honestly. He murmurs something she doesn’t catch as she gently wriggles him out of the confines of his breeches, brows furrowed in concentration. “You don’t deserve my cock in your mouth yet. Kiss only. Use your tongue if you have such a lack of self-restraint. You’re good at that.” The jab was directed and shot, but the weight of him in her hand had her head spinning too fast to say anything smart in return. Her lips meet his tip with a quiet, pleased hum, her tongue dipping into the crease where his precum dribbled. 

Cregan’s reaction was immediate. “Like that…” He sighs, head tilting back, just savoring the relief. Fire thrummed in her stomach. She kisses down the underside of his cock, ignoring the tickle of the dark hair at the base of him as it brushed against her jaw.

His arms were slack on the rests, fingers twitching with every small suction of her lips on him. Kiss by kiss, he hardens fully under her hands, and lines of swears erupt from his throat like mantras. “In your mouth now, pup.” He looks down at her with hooded eyes, looking like he was trying not to smile but failing anyway. To be fair, it was Cregan. The slight quirk of his lips was upturned enough to count. She situates herself a little further between his thick thighs, resting her elbows down midway as her palms lay over his. And then she took him into her mouth.

“Fuck..” He groans, something low and sinful that brought her butterflies. It was quite the sight to see the Warden of the North melt so easily by a tongue. He wasn’t like most men sometimes—usually. This, though. He certainly was. Not much longer before he’d forget what she said to him in the first place. The thought drove her to sink deeper on him, barely able to go halfway but that was already enough to get his tip in the far end of her mouth. He curses more—although entirely unintelligible this time—and his hands lift, presumably to tangle themselves in her hair. But they don’t make it there. She might’ve been trapped there on the floor between his legs, but that didn’t mean he was going to get all that he wanted. Her nails dig hard into the back of his hands, close to the wrists, and keep them firmly planted against the armrests.

He hisses momentarily in surprise. With his thick skin, it was more likely his ego was more hurt than his hands. She bobs her head with a vengeance of her own, and he slumps in the chair with a growl, thoroughly annoyed to be held back. “I’m going…to give you…five seconds...wife. Release me.” Her nails dig harder in response, pinching the skin hard enough for him to react. Cregan’s thighs tense more under her elbows. She counted down in her mind as she was sure he was doing in his. It was absolutely worth a bit of punishment. Saliva coated his cock, the drool slithering down the underside of it enough to make it sound even more lewd. He loved it when she abandoned her manners. “Wife.” He warns again. What happened to never repeating yourself twice, husband? The thought would’ve made her laugh if it weren’t for his cock.

He bucks his hips toward her throat—on purpose, obviously—and the force of it surprises her entirely, gagging in the slightest as she loses her grip on him. His hands are snatched from under her ruthless nails, and although out of view as he clutched her cheeks together, she didn’t fail to catch the pinkish skin around the moon-shaped indentations. They would certainly leave a mark tomorrow. Cregan pushes her back from his cock, seething, and his dark eyes never leave her face. His fingers dig into her cheeks unconsciously before letting go—and as quick as they go, a warning smack makes her face turn to the side. It didn’t hurt, by any means, but it sent a thrill right down between her thighs. “If you ever hold my hands back again, I’ll fuck you so full of my seed that all of Winterfell will hear your pathetic little mewls for me to stop. Do you understand me, pup? Answer me.”

“I understand.” She relents, eyes darting from his face to his red cock, the beat of her heart following every throb of the pretty veins. His eyes narrowed at her, not entirely trusting but he’d gotten his point across. “Make me come, wife.” She didn’t need him to say another word, her lips instantly wrapping around his tip to pick up where she left off. This time, she kept her hands planted on his thighs, breathing harshly through her nose as she took more and more of his cock. Her fists clenched around his breeches tightly, her gaze flicking up at him. He was watching, panting, the last of his restraint hanging by a thread. Cregan never lasted very long in her mouth, not that either of them thought he needed to. “To the base.” He mutters, holding off the urge to fuck her throat. He wanted to see if she could do it herself first.

His wife does her best attempt three-fourths of the way—close enough for the tip of her nose to brush against the coarse hair. The feeling nearly brought him to the edge anyway, close to falling off entirely. His grunts were louder, less composed. He was getting desperate. He reaches out to grip her hair, his own strands drooping down into his line of sight. “I’m gonna come—hold your breath for me.” She does. He doesn’t waste a moment, cupping her face gently, thumbs soothing the skin of her cheeks as he starts to buck up into her mouth like he was rabid. The sound of his tip sliding almost into her throat was enough to do it. Cregan was snarling now, fucking her face with purpose as the come dribbled down her tongue and mouth. “Good girl! Good fucking girl! Taking me so well!”

Eventually, he slowed, spent and breathing heavily as she recuperated through long inhales and exhales through her nose. She was still sucking on him though, eager for every drop. Leaned back in his chair, limp like a rag doll, Cregan gave her one of his sweet, lazy smiles. “...Told you not to compare.”

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[stanswifeirl]

NERD GETS APPRECIATED AND WHIPS IT OUT!

notes: cross-posted on my ao3!

contains: stanford pines x gn!reader

warning: masturbation, some self depreciating talk, him feeling guilty about thinking about you while he jerks it

Glass Shard Beach was rarely kind to him, and there were few normal scenarios he could recall throughout his life.

But now? Here he was, reduced to a stuttering, nervous wreck at the simple words of praise that seemed to flow from your mouth with ease, just like the process of diffusion with non-polar molecules (which, for your information, is pretty damn easy).

This type of reaction is expected, he thinks. How often did a guy find someone as attractive as you in a Fifth Dimensional Calculus class? Of course you would attract his attention!

He didn't like to audibly put down the work done at Backupsmore University, but it wasn't often he'd find someone so... smart. Maybe well-read is a better word? Someone who viewed his work not only with interest, but from a new perspective.

It was dangerous. The way your voice filled the space with intelligent dialogue made him wish it was the only sound he ever heard. The way your scent made him lose focus on his work whenever you leaned in to assist him on a project was simply intoxicating.

He could think up plenty of flowery phrases to describe what he's feeling... Actually expressing them was where his expertise fell short.

To put it simply, the guy was head over heels, and he didn't know how to handle it.

Inviting you to conduct research for class was probably the worst possible decision he could've made. It was absolutely thrilling to spend an afternoon with you, but the growing tightness in his pants only proved to sully his mood. He was sure you noticed. There was no way you didn't, even if you decided to carry on like you didn't know what you were doing to him. Surely, he couldn't be the only one feeling the chemistry!

He didn't know how you worked up the courage to call him sweet names, or pat his shoulder politely at the end of the night when he dropped you off in front of your apartment complex.

More than thankful for the dim lighting, he was only able to mumble out a hurried "Goodbye!" before slamming his foot down on the gas pedal, ready to get the hell outta there.

Ford drives, things pressed tightly together in shame, into an empty parking lot. He parks.

"Sweet Moses." He whines into his hands, patting down drops of sweat with the cuff of his shirt. "Goodness. I'm horrible. You don't deserve this. God, I can't believe I'm..."

His hand shoots for his pocket, pulling out a 38 sided die. To freak, or not to freak? That was the question. He squirms uncomfortably in his seat, closes his eyes, and takes a breath.

Ford mentally cringes it when he rolls it onto his dashboard, realizing how lame he must look as he uses his game dice to decide on if he should masturbate or not.

Mind running a mile a minute, the poor guy was always a bit too self aware of his actions, he realizes how lame he looks allowing a dice roll to tell him whether he's allowed to jerk off or not.

His face scrunches up in disgust as he unzips his pants, hand hesitantly hovering over his painfully erect dick.

"This is so embarrassing." He groans, feeling the length of his dick as it twitches under his touch.

Ford’s face flushes as he slowly moves his hand up and down, humiliated. His back straightens as his thumb brushes over the head, already leaking in precum.

He grits his teeth, feeling his face burning hot with shame as he strokes himself to the thought of you. As much as he admires your fiercely intelligent mind, he can't help but be captivated by how fucking hot you are.

Leaning back in his seat, his eyes flutter closed as he imagines hands brushing against his skin, comforting eyes looking up at him in that way that made him feel so, so safe. His hand moves faster as his breathing grows ragged.

"God, I'm such a loser." He whispers to himself, face growing hot as he realizes how pathetic he sounds.

Would you still look at him like that if you knew what was happening right now? Would you enjoy it? Maybe you'd entertain him. He'd like that.

Oh. Oh. That idea really sticks with him.

Your presence always seemed so commanding. So sure of yourself. Maybe, he hopes, you'd like taking charge of him when he was at his most vulnerable.

His back arches as he bucks into his hand, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to imagine it was you touching him. He should be allowed to indulge a little, shouldn't he? He doesn't know anymore.

It's almost this primal instinct that keep his thoughts out of logic mode, and far more acutely aware on the shockwaves of pleasure coursing throughout his body.

His chest feels tight as he imagines your hand slowly running up and down the base, teasing the head. Tears prick up in the corners of his eyes as picture after picture of you enter his mind.

He curses, stuttering your name as he twists his hand, quickening his pace.

"Thank you." He chokes out, face burning in humiliation as he feels his orgasm building. He didn't mean to think if you this way— the least he could do was thank the image of you.

His head slams back into his seat as he reaches his climax, body trembling as his hand and car floor is stained with long ropes of cum. The mind fog quickly clears, and makes quick work of grabbing tissues from the glove compartment to clean his mess up.

Ew. He'd have to clean properly in the morning.

[decayedgloria]

sundress szn pt. 2

pt. 2 ft. scaramouche, sandrone, pantalone, and childe

Summer’s finally come, so you decide to wear something that fit the occasion- much to your lover’s excitement.

tags: nsfw under cut, public/semi public sex in almost all of these, I got carried away during pantalone’s, harbingers x afab! Reader (minus signora this time bc I genuinely cannot think of smth for her rn but I can promise in the future that she may be in one of these.), slight ooc maybe? mdni.

word count: ~2.2k, I wrote these half asleep on a nine hour flight these are not going to be proofread

Scaramouche

This was a good idea. Totally. Sumeru’s just much, much more humid than Snezhnaya, which was something you were willing to get used to. You were absolutely fine. 

How you wished you were right.

Even in the shade of the Grand Bazaar you could still feel the light sheen of sweat begin to form on your skin as you hastily fan yourself, occasionally observing your surroundings for your boyfriend. As a newly-inducted Vahumana student, he was bound to get busy, so it left you with a lot of time on your hands. Too much time. But hey, it got you a new dress so who are you to complain?

It reminded you of when you were both in the Fatui, the Harbinger and his loyal partner, who were too busy to really see each other until he whisked you away to Sumeru. You assumed it would be different this time, but it had dawned on you recently that it would take quite a while to get there (not that it wasn’t deserved, he had a lot to atone for after all.)

But it still disheartened you. You would be lying if you said that it didn’t. You missed his hugs and his presence, no matter how much you annoyed each other you always seemed to find a way to touch each other. And on nights he would be up in the Akademiya studying, leaving you alone in your shared bed, your thoughts wandered to those scarce intimate moments you shared- nights where his chest was pressed against yours, with that stupid smirk on his face as he fucked you silly. Just thinking about those nights made a familiar heat rise in between your legs, making you curse as your cheeks reddened. 

Archons, first the heat, and now this? Scaramouche had better hurry, you felt like you were going to be torched alive at this rate.

Thankfully, you did not need to wait long. Looking into the crowd again, your eyes met with a familiar pair of tired purple ones, much to your delight. You hopped off the bench you sat on and beelined your way to the grouchy purple boy, a smile blossoming on your face as you get closer to him. He doesn’t return the same excitement, content to just catch you in his arms like he always does. You don’t seem to mind, though, as you were too preoccupied with burying your face into his chest.

“Scara…” You whined, pouting your lips. “What took you so long? Do you know how hot it is in here? I almost died.” Expecting a smart retort from him, you were thoroughly surprised at the next words that came out of his mouth.

“What on earth are you wearing?”

There was no malice and spite in his voice, just irritated confusion. Which, in turn, confused you, prompting you to release your position against his chest and stare at him with an eyebrow raised.

“Do you not like it? I got it a while ago.” You hesitantly let go of his embrace, spinning once to let him see the whole dress. It was perfect for a hot day- light and airy, revealing as much skin as possible without spilling everything out. When you turned back to him, his face had gotten redder, but his eyes stayed on you- more specifically, your figure. 

“Aw, what’s got you blushing, Scara?” Your teasing tone was met with a glare, and a pathetic attempt to hide his face by looking away. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So you don’t like my dress?”

“That’s not the problem.” Suddenly, he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him again, lowering his head so he could murmur into your ear, “I like it too much. Fix it. Now.”

With that, he dragged you to the nearest concealed spot- behind some crates that barely covered the both of you. When you emerged, all that was left of your dress was the tattered skirt that barely hung on to your body as Scaramouche placed his jacket over your top, that same stupid, hot smirk on his face.

Sandrone

Sandrone tried. Really, she did. But she could not help it in the slightest.

The seventh harbinger has a reputation for being a recluse, cooping herself up in her lab toying with her automatons all day. On the rare occasion she did speak to someone, her tone only seemed to indicate annoyance and malice- she didn’t mind since it drove people away. However, things changed the day you were assigned to work under her; suddenly, she didn’t hate the world that much anymore.

Certainly not when you’re dressed like this.

A quick trip to the ruins of Liyue, both as a break and to gather intel, made you a bit… adventurous, with your outfits to say the least. The entire time you had walked around Qiongji Estuary, Sandrone could not help but linger her stare just a little bit longer than usual. Your outfit consisted of a short dress, loosely clinging around your body, but it made you look so alluring in her eyes. A perpetual blush seemed to occupy her face, which you had innocently chalked up to the heat.

As her automatons roam around in search for whatever she had told them to find, Sandrone busied herself under a makeshift tent inspecting what seemed to be an artifact encased in cor lapis, tinkering with the ore as if it were a toy. You were by her side, head on her shoulder, observing your lover with loving eyes. Your subtle touches combined with your warm breathing had already put her on edge, but she continued nonetheless.

However, the last straw came when you stood up a little to grab something on the other side of Sandrone, aptly placing your bosom right in front of her face. So, forgive her for breaking her composure and pulling you back onto the ground, dirtying your dress as she straddles you eagerly while crashing her lips into your own before you could react.

“You’re so fond of distractions…” She said breathlessly, hands all but dying to get your tits out of your dress for her nimble fingers to play with. You moaned in response, a bit taken aback at her suddeness. Looking up at your blushing, desperate girlfriend, you decided to tease her just a little bit.

“I was just trying to help, Sandrone.” Your tone feigned innocence, which only fueled her frustration. She caught your lips with fervor as one hand pinched your nipple, and the other tugged on your hair, all while grinding down on you.

“Shut up and fuck me, please.” 

Pantalone

Pantalone was a man of many talents. One of those talents happens to be spoiling you rotten. Too rotten sometimes. But who were you to complain? The richest man in Teyvat was wrapped around your finger, and you couldn’t help but be a little cheeky and take advantage of that sometimes.

What should’ve been a business trip to Liyue to check the Northland Bank’s activities turned into Pantalone emptying out every boutique in the harbor so you can get a new wardrobe for summer. At one particular store, where there were no other customers besides you and your husband, you had decided to try on some dresses that caught your attention. On one hand, you really did want a few more relaxed additions, but on the other hand, well…

You had emerged from your dressing room not long ago, and yet you were already sat firmly on top of your husband, head in his neck as you try to brace yourself against the waiting room’s couch. Under you, Pantalone only gave you his usual, sly grin as his hands firmly hold you in his lap, keeping you in place as you grind on his ever-growing erection.

“I think this dress looks lovely on you dear.” He whispered, taking in the sight of you writhing on top of him desperately. Chuckling, his hand makes it way all the way to your ass, hiking up the long dress before giving it a smack. You moaned in response, hiding your face in his neck, hands raking over his toned chest.

“You simply look ravishing in it.” He continued his assault on your body, propping you up just a little bit so he had a clear view of your chest, kissing you quickly before delving in between your tits. Archons, he was impatient- he made you impatient. You confess, you did think the dress would get a rise out of him, which was why you picked it first when trying clothes on, but to think he would be this roused by it filled you with a titulating thrill only he was capable of causing.

“Ah- Does the dress make you- ngh… this excited, love?” Despite your teasing words, it was clear that you weren’t the one in control as you rocked your hips to feel even a little bit of relief from the growing ache in between your legs. Pantalone didn’t say anything back, rather he took off his gloves and positioned his fingers over your mouth, commanding you in a husky tone.

“Open up and suck them, darling. I’ll have plenty more for you.”

Childe

“Fuck you mean no?”

“You just aren’t going out like that.” Childe deadpanned, crossing his arms. “It’s a pretty dress for sure though.” The contrasting grin on his freckled face made you want to punch him, though it also illicited some questionable butterflies in your stomach.

Nobody quite knew what you and Childe were. On the surface level, one could assume that you two were just close friends; however, if they took the time to observe how Childe’s touch always lingered for a little too long, or how you stared at him with such bold adoration in your eyes as you smiled at him- it would be quite obvious that there were unspoken feelings for each other somewhere there.

It was quite common for you to visit his office in the Northland Bank like today. You really just wanted to show him the new dress you made for yourself, and figured you could flirt with him a little bit- not that he’d catch the hint. He always did treat you just like a good friend, something that disappointed you a little bit.

Because as it stands, right now, with him towering over you with his arms crossed, a grin on his handsome face- somehow, you’re horny because of this smug bastard. You imagine how good it would be to just smash your lips on his just to shut him up because Archons, is it tempting.

“I’d like to show off what I’ve made for myself,” you huffed at him, pouting. “I’ll go ahead and stroll the streets as I please with or without you then.” You try to turn and leave, expecting him to just laugh and go back to work. However before you could even step towards the door’s direction Childe’s strong hands snaked around your waist, pulling you firmly back.

Without much warning, you fell back into his chest letting out a small yelp. Once you realize the position you were in, you froze- your cheeks heating up an unbearable amount as you try to wriggle away from the (much) stronger man. It only became worse when he placed his lips right on top of your ear, chuckling lowly.

“C’mon… I can’t have all of Liyue see my girl this good.” He remarked lowly, trailing his lips down until they settled on the base of your neck, to which he then placed a gentle kiss. “They might be tempted to steal you away from me, and we can’t have that, can we?.” You’d be lying if you said that didn’t turn you on so fucking much, trying your best to hide it by pulling your legs closer together.

“We aren’t dating though? What do you mean-“ You let out a moan as he started sucking at the same spot, his lips forming a smile as they worked. Your hands flew to his arm on your waist, turning yourself around to meet his gaze. He lifted his head, lips puffy and blue eyes glazed over with lust. 

“Everyone in Liyue knows that we want each other. Why not give in?” He pressed his forehead against yours, lips deliciously close to yours as he placed his hands on your waist. 

“Only if you want to.” Was your sheepish reply, slightly embarassed to be this close to the man you’ve been covering for months. Was it really this easy? Is it just another one of his pranks? You weren’t sure, but at this point you didn’t care much, especially after he launched his lips straight at you in a fervent kiss. His hands lifted you up, haphazardly swiping away everything on his desk and placing you on it while your fingers tangled in his hair.

Both of you fumble with each other’s clothes, but Childe took extra care in taking the sight of your dress halfway off your body, admiring the view. He suddenly brings his hand up to your chest, flicking your nipple. You moan in both surprise and pleasure, burying your face into his bare shoulder.

“Be as loud as you want girlie. I want everyone here to know who’s finally got you.”

pt 2 is finally out yall i can rest

i wrote these on my way to and from london on the plane and i am sick bro i just wanna sleep (jet lag and chugging redbulls prevent me from catching a break tbh)

hope yall enjoy, this did take a little bit longer to make tho so i apologize for that.

[aajjks]

Blurred Lines (m)

synopsis: the lines are blurring- you’re forbidden but he has to have a taste.

paring. soft!yan best friend!jk x Reader

warnings. yändêrê,, flüff, obsèssïvè thöüghts, lôvèsïck jk, DÏRTY thöüghts,, Jungköök is sö nöt pürè LMÁÔ büt wbk.

note. heh. ENJOY AND SEND ASKS FOR HIMMMM ILY GUYS.

DO NOT ROMANTACISE THIS BEHAVIOUR AND I DO NOT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOUR IRL AND THIS IS PURELY FICTIONAL AND THIS FIC DOES NOT REPRESENT BTS OR JUNGKOOK AS A PERSON.

You’re the one he loves and maybe he’s too late to realise it, you’re singles, yes. But he just got out of a great relationship and you’d never date your best friend.

An angel that was sent in jungkooks dark, plain life to light it up with its radiatingly angelic existence. before you, it was all dark and smoky around him, the constant chaos, bad relationships and gleaming was starting to taint his entire life but then you were always there…

His savior, his salvation. His best friend, YN LN. yes, his YN, the girl of his dreams. Jungkook loves you so fucking much. His love for you is indescribable. Really, he is so devoted to you, but being your devotee was the least he was doing...you were a goddess, you deserved someone better than him.

A lot better, pure. Jungkook knew that he didn’t deserve you, you are like a forbidden fruit that’s so tempting to taste.

Becoming your best friend was a start...for something more...way more that jungkook craved so much. But… he never dared to cross the line, and then Dakhyung came.

He tried to suppress his emotions and feelings for you, how could he love you, his best friend.

But the truth is..

Jungkook is in love with you, his best friend. he has been loving you. His world revolves around you. the most random things you talk about are so lovely to hear...your voice is so soothing.

It soothes jungkooks inner demon that threats to come out and take over him. the one that’s so into you.

Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N and Y/N.

Maybe his interest in you was partly responsible for her cheating on him.. maybe, she didn’t like you.. her loss.

“Kookie!!” Jungkook blinks, Finally pulled back to reality. He tilted his head to look at you, and his mind goes blank.

God, you are so pretty, so fucking beautiful. You are a masterpiece, God’s greatest creation, God’s biggest masterpiece. “KOOKIE!”

“Y-Yes!?” This time a soft smile finds its way to his lips and his cheeks heated up in embarrassment. “yes YN?” You huff in annoyance. “What are you thinking so deeply about, kook. I’ve been calling you for the last 17 minutes.” If it was even possible, his cheeks felt more heated.

if only you kn- “got a crush or something kook? Or thinking about the bitch?”

You interrupt the trail of his thoughts once again. he looks up at you in surprise, his dark doe eyes wide with his mouth agape.

“Fuck Dakhyung.” He refers to his now ex girlfriend. He hates her, to be fair he never loved her, the relationship was rushed, she wanted to be with him and… he was too scared to ask you out.

Dumb move.

But then she cheated on him, what a whore.

“w-what?!” he stutters, his heart threatening to explode in his chest. “What, What kook. A crush. Perhaps you have a crush since you’re so distracted these days...” on your face was a mischievous smile that made him scared.

But she really did him a favour by freeing him.

what if you knew? did his friend tell you? that fucker— “w-why do you think I-I have a crush? How’d you know... Yn.” Jungkook looked everywhere but at you.

“I just got cheated on yn!”

now, don’t get jungkook wrong. He loves you a lot...like it was probably unhealthy. But he hated just how smart you were.

But then again, it is also so hot.

Jungkook shakes his head at his lewd thoughts. Now was not the time. Jungkook liftes his head up to see you so close to his face.

eeeeekkk!

“Y-Y-Yn!!! W-What are you doing!?” With your face so close to his, jungkooks breath hitches in his throat. you really are Gods most magnificent creation. and...

you smell so fucking good. peachy, his favorite scent. “jungkooooookie is innnn looooveee!~” the way your mouth moves was so attractive, your lips were so plump.

So pink and glossy, his mouth was salivating at the sight. nice lipgloss.

Damn your glossy pretty lips.

what does it taste like? Oh he desperately he wishes he could know. His gaze is set on your lips as he forces his frozen mind to think logically.

No! Jungkook is not a pervert. You are pure. He inhales loudly while scolding himself mentally.

Now. is. not. the. time. jungkook.

He closes his eyes and gulpes. These thoughts are haunting, how would your lips feel against his? your soft skin would be heaven to touch…

Just look at you.

stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop— fuck it.

“Y/N can i kiss you?”

maybe he isn’t as pure as he thought.

[oceisastar]

Skott x male reader with belly bulge? Imagine a reader that is much taller than him and larger in size, I want to see how Skott accepts the reader while he lightly presses on the resulting bulge 🤤

MDNI (male!reader x skott; skott is an IPC employee & reader is his superior, skott is drunk and mouthy, petplay, spanking, minor belly bulge, mention of breeding, very brief feminization ("cunt"), brief moment where skott says "no" but not seriously, they have a safe move and he does not use it)

do not repost / translate / re-use my work in any shape or form. this is strictly for entertainment purposes/fiction and is not intended to support or endorse these power dynamics irl!

*** Skott is quite the pain in your ass. Insolent, two-timing, and a whiny brat at that.

Still, he has his redeeming perks. you first noticed him when Caelus made him get on his knees and bark in front of everyone at Aurum Alley.

That certainly caught your attention. He’s rather cute, even though he makes your life a living headache. His loyalty to the IPC is never in question, though his methods are often crass.

You remember having to bail him out when he got caught with a bunch of IPC mechs at the Xianzhou Luofu docks. He was making all sorts of fuss at first—until you helped him get out of being thrown in prison for suspicious cargo counts.

He tried to explain, stutter and justify until finally he mumbled out a, “Thank you,” bright red with embarrassment.

It was nice, to see him so obedient. like a dog.

One night, Skott approaches you, obviously drunk. “You… hey! Yeah, you!”

You incline your head. This is certainly not the way an IPC employee speaks to his superior.

“You think you’re so much better than the rest of us, ‘cause you’re so big and smart and hot and… hot!” He jabs a finger in your direction.

You catch his wrist, lifting his arm up.

“I would watch your tone, Skott. Someone else might misconstrue this as you trying to come onto me. And that would be an HR violation, wouldn’t it?”

Skott’s cheeks go bright red. “You’re insane! You have no idea what you’re talking about! I’m just pointing out how unfair it is that you’re getting preferential treatment.”

“Am I?" You tower over him, your shadow looming over him. "I would call it observant. I see how you look at me, Skott.”

His eyes go wide. "What are you talking about?"

“I even caught you sniffing one of my jackets the other day. But I let it go, because I’m a kind man who cares about my subordinates.”

Skott looks like he wants to melt into the earth.

“I know what you get up to, Skott.” You press your lips to the shell of his ear. “Nothing you do gets by me.”

He shudders, letting out a broken whine in response.

“I—that wasn’t me. It was a-someone else.”

“Was it?" Your fingers skirt his collarbone, tugging at the chain around his neck. "I distinctly remember seeing your dog tag when I was walking away.”

To your surprise, Skott shifts, trying to hide the growing bulge in his pants. You smile licentiously.

“Skott… don’t you know it’s bad to lie to your superiors?”

Your hand slides down to grab at his waist. It’s so small, fitting perfectly against the curve of your palm.

“N-now, wait a minute! What do you think you’re—”

“I think you deserve to be punished.” Your hand slides down to knead at his ass. He jolts forward, chest pressing up against the broad planes of your chest.

"P-punished?! Now you're just talking nons--ah!" he moans unintentionally, turning bright red as he squirms.

"You stole my jacket. That's IPC property. And we don't take lightly to theft."

“It... just happened. I—I didn’t mean to.” He says miserably, looking into your eyes. His eyes are watery, wide and repentant.

“I know you didn’t. You just need someone to teach you better. To show you how to take it like a good boy. Or should I say, a good dog?” You smile at him.

His cock strains against his pants, now unmistakably visible.

“What do you say, Skott? Are you in the mood for some training?”

There’s a long silence before he swallows, cheeks blushing.

“Yes… sir. Please punish me.”

________________________________

Skott is on all fours, ass up in the air as he yelps, your hand coming down swiftly to smack him over and over.

“T-thirty one… thirty… ah!”

“Ah, ah, Skott. You lost count. Such a bad boy.”

“D-don’t make me do it again, please! This is the… third time!” He hiccups. He’s nearly soiled his pants through with how aroused he is, glasses slipping down his nose.

“I would make you go again, but since it’s our first time, I can grant a little reprieve. That poor cock of yours needs a little mercy, hm?”

Your hand slips unapologetically below his boxers and cups his aching cock.

“Ah—oh! Sir!” He calls out, jolting forward. You begin to jerk him off, shoving off his pants until he’s about to burst.

“W-why’d you stop?” He says pathetically.

“Because I’m going to fuck you.”

________________________________

After painstakingly stretching him, his cock dripping all over the floor, his nipples hard from all the attention, you slowly press your cock against his, sliding between his thighs.

“Tell me how badly you want it.”

“I… huh… g-give it to me.”

“That’s no way to ask. I’ll give you one more chance. Try again.”

“I, mmhm, want your c-cock, sir. Please put it in my fat hole.”

“Show me.”

Skott is burning up inside, his hands coming to spread his cheeks for you, showing off the pretty pink treat inside.

“Very good.”

Without another word, you slide inside. Skott wails, clenching endlessly around you.

“You’re so, hrgh, fucking tight.” You grit out, rolling your hips as you try to get used to him.

“Oh god!” Skott claws at the floor, back arching inadvertently as your weight presses down onto him.

“Haven’t been fucked by a cock this big?” You ask, slowly grinding into him.

“N-no,” he sniffles, “you’re the b-biggest, sir.”

“What were you really doing with my jacket, Skott?”

“I…”

You stop moving. He clenches relentlessly, crying out at your stillness.

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop—”

“Answer my question.” Your hand pushes down on his back, forcing him to bow further.

“I masturbated to it, okay! I used it and I—I got off with it. But I took it for dry cleaning right after and I—ah!”

You already knew the answer—the strange stain when it came back. Dry cleaning is good, but not for that.

“Ruining a perfectly good jacket for your base fantasies.” Your hand smacks across his ass, watching his cheeks jiggle from the movement.

“Oh, fuck!” Skott cries out, tightening around you, squeezing your length.

You fuck him harder, pressing your full body weight onto him so he melts into the floor.

“Tell me, have you thought about this before? Me fucking you, taking your tight ass?”

“Yes..! Yes!” He slobbers all over the floor, drunk on your heated touch.

“Such a needy dog.” You growl.

Skott cries out, shuddering and shaking. You press your hips all the way, as deep as possible, and he cries out.

Your hand traces the thin lines of his stomach, feeling the bulge of your hardness pressing through.

“S-Sir…” he lets out a broken moan. You press harder, and Skott cries out. “Please! I—I can feel you so deep...”

“Just what I expected from someone like you. You live to take cock, don’t you?”

Skott sobs an incoherent answer. You press him down harder, pressing your balls up against his ass.

“Need a big strong man to breed you, huh?”

Skott claws at the floor, arching his back as you fuck him deeper.

“N-no, sir, too deep!”

Despite his words, there’s no taps on your arm, signaling he’s fine.

“Shut up. You’ll take it.”

You thrust harder, more aggressively, animalistically, taking everything you want from Skott laid bare at your feet.

“Such a good cunt. Made for me.”

Skott weeps, cumming all over himself as he feels you fill him over and over.

“And I’m going to show you how we reward good employees.”

[insxghtt]

hot knife — ellie williams x reader

if Ellie is butter, then you're a hot knife.

warnings: fluff, lots of cursing (it's ellie), lesbians being really really gayyyy, ellie and reader are 18

based on a request. y'all needed it, i needed it, we all need this.

You were angry. Well, not angry like when someone tells you something you don’t really want to hear, or when someone messes with someone you deeply care about, or even when someone is trying to tell you what to do. No, this was a different type of angry. Something you have never felt before. 

It was like when you have a dog and this dog that you love so much only cares about someone else. Shit, you’re the one feeding it, you’re the one who covers that ungrateful dog with a blanket when it’s snowing outside, you’re the one who loves and would do anything to protect that dog when someone tries to hurt it, or kidnap it, or some shit like that. 

Of course, Ellie was not a dog. It’s not like you were comparing her to one, no. That would be just superficial and kind of mean, honestly. You cared about Ellie more than you would care about a dog. Also, Ellie was so much better than that. She was perfect. Every detail of her was just beautiful to you. You weren’t angry at her. You were angry at yourself for feeling like you were invisible every time she looked at her. 

Dina. 

Why did Ellie had to pay attention to every word she said? Why did she seem so happy when Dina talked to her? Most importantly, why did you care so much? It’s not like Ellie was your girlfriend. She was your best friend. Wasn’t it enough? 

Apparently, no, considering how shitty you felt when you saw Dina and Ellie laughing in the park while playing with snowballs. That morning, you were supposed to meet with her. You two made plans to have lunch together. Well, you didn’t plan that, but it became kind of a routine, so you though she would be waiting for you in front of your house like she always did. 

Ellie didn’t like to take care of herself. She was used to skip some meals and you were quick to notice it. Of course you would notice it, you were always looking at her. Since the day she arrived at Jackson for the first time. 

She was only fourteen then, but fourteen years were enough to make her tougher than the other kids. Tougher than you. You were more innocent than her then and that made it difficult for you two to connect. Yet somehow, you were able to sneak into her life. ‘If you are butter, I can be the hot knife’, you told her one time. That was the first time she laughed in front of you. Since that moment, you made it your goal to put a smile on her face at least once every single day. She deserved it. 

It hurt like hell when you realized you were not the only one doing it anymore. Dina was pretty, smart, confident. They made a good match if you look at it from any other point of view that it’s not yours. 

“You’re staring”, a voice next to you brough you back to earth. You didn’t have to look to know that it was Jesse. 

“You too.” 

“Do you think they’re like...”, he made a pause, obviously uncomfortable with the use of the word. “Lesbians... or something?” 

You raised your eyebrows and looked at him. “Is there a problem if they were?” 

“Well, I... No, it’s just that I...”, he stuttered. 

“You are unbelievable”, you sighed. 

“Hey!”, Ellie yelled when she saw you. “You!” 

She ran to you with a big smile in her face. For a second, you even forgot about that awful feeling. 

“I knocked at your door, but I guess you weren’t there anymore”, she stopped in front of you. Her cheeks were pink because of the cold. “Me and Dina went to sleep late yesterday, so I woke up late, and... you know.” 

Yes, of course, last night. When Dina and Ellie talked for hours and hours at the stable and you just decided to leave because it was just too much for you to handle. 

It was kind of funny how Jesse gulped when he heard Ellie saying that she and Dina were alone for hours. It obvious how much he liked Dina, but she didn’t seem to realize. 

“What were you two doing last night?”, Jesse asked. 

“They were doing drugs and making out, Jesse, that’s what they were doing.”, you said sarcastically. 

“Really?” 

“Oh my God...”, you rolled your eyes. 

“We were talking”, Dina explained to him while she was getting closer. 

He laughed nervously and nodded.  

“I’m sorry I made you wait”, Ellie said to you. 

“It’s fine.” 

You just shrugged and turned away, now heading to the bar where you usually had your lunch. Ellie looked at Dina without really knowing what to do. You didn’t sound fine. Dina gestured for her to follow you and that was what she did. 

You entered the bar with her. It was weird how distant you were, but she tried her best to stay positive. You saw Seth from far away and gave him a signal. He already knew you and Ellie pretty well. He didn’t exactly like you, but he liked Maria, Maria liked you and you liked Ellie. That meant free lunch every day. 

When you sat at one of the tables to wait for the food, she sat in front of you. 

“Listen, I found this movie in one of the patrols and I...” 

“That’s nice”, you interrupted her, staring at your hands. 

“Okay...”, she nodded. You were not interested in the movie. Alright. “So, I was thinking we could...” 

“Did you and Dina have fun last night?” 

She opened her mouth to answer, but Seth called your name before she could say anything. You stood up and walked to the man behind the counter. 

“Thank you, Seth”, you said before taking the two sandwiches. 

The man responded with a mumble. You didn’t look at Ellie when you gave her one of the sandwiches, but she still followed you when you walked out of the bar. 

“Can you slow down a bit?”, Ellie asked. 

It didn’t really make a difference. It took her a few seconds to realize where you were going. Your home. Something was off. You two usually had lunch in the park. When it was too cold, you went to her place because it was closer. 

When you finally arrived at your house, you didn’t ask her to come in. No, you entered the door and closed it behind you. Okay, that was just too much. 

“Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“Oh, so now you care!”, you yelled too from inside the house. 

“What?”, she tried to open the door, but it was locked. “Did you just lock me outside your house?” 

There was silence for a few seconds. “No...” 

“The door seems pretty fucking locked to me!” 

You were being childish, and you knew it. With a sigh, you left the sandwich on the corner table and opened the door. Ellie stared at you, but she didn’t seem angry. No, she seemed... hurt? 

“Are you mad at me because I woke up late?” 

“Oh, fuck you! It’s not about that!” 

“Alright, then what is it?”, she crossed her arms, waiting for an explanation. 

You had no other option but to just deny it. 

“It’s nothing.” 

“Really? You think I'm gonna buy that?” 

“I don’t need you to, it’s the truth”, you shrugged. 

“So, you just ignored me and locked me out of your house for nothing?” 

“Maybe I didn’t see you.” 

“You did see me.” 

“Maybe it was the wind.” 

“The wind can lock doors now?” 

You really had no arguments, huh? 

“Maybe.” 

“Stop...”, she whispered. “Come on, let me in? It’s cold.” 

You sighed and gave her space to enter you house. When you closed the door, the silence filled the room. Ellie took the backpack off her back and looked for something in one of the pockets. You watched in silence as she took a VHS film and showed it to you. 

“This is what I was telling you about...” 

“Who the fuck is Donnie Darko?”, you read the name. 

“I was hoping to find out.” 

Why did she had to look at you like that? 

“Well, I think Dina will love it.” 

“Dina? Why would I...”, she seemed confused for a moment, but then it hit her. “Wait, are you jealous of me and Dina?” 

Jealous. Was that the word? 

“Fuck, no!” 

“Oh, my fucking God, you’re jealous!” 

“No, I'm not!”, you could feel your cheeks burning right now. “Why would I be jealous of you two?” 

“I don’t know, maybe you have a thing for her...” 

“I do not have a thing for her.” 

“You have a thing for someone then?” 

Her confusion was making you dizzy. You sighed and sat on the couch of the living room. 

“Okay...”, she was still trying to absorb that information. She felt weird trying to picture you with someone else. “Who is it then?” 

“Shut up, I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

“I think we are already talking about it, so...”, she looked at you. “It’s okay. You can tell me, you know?” 

“No, I can’t.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I can’t lie to you, Ellie.” 

“But you don’t have to lie... right?”, she said, and you finally looked at her with tears in your eyes. “Oh...” 

You didn’t have to say anything, it was too obvious. You were in love with her. The tears started to roll down your cheeks, and you didn’t try to stop them. It was done, you couldn’t go back in time. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Ellie was staring at the floor. Her silence was terrifying to you. What if she never talks to you again? All your worries were soon replaced by confusion when she let out a laugh. 

“You know what’s funny?”, she smiled and looked at you. “I spent a week with this movie in my backpack, scared that if I invited you to watch it with me you would realize I was asking you on a date.” 

She left the VHS tape in the center table. 

“And I really spent hours yesterday talking to Dina, describing to her everything I feel when you’re around, asking her if it would be too bad if I really did ask you on a date.” 

The way you looked at her made her heart melt. It was almost as if you were begging for that to be true. 

“So, is that what this is?”, you pointed to the VHS tape. 

“I mean, if you’d like that, then I guess it is”, she looked down, trying to hide the tears in her eyes. 

You nodded and stood up. 

“I do like that.” 

She stepped your way, your faces closer than ever. “Okay, then it’s a date.” 

You gave her a shy smile and paid attention to every single detail of her. Eyes, nose, lips. 

“It’s a date”, you whispered before leaving a soft kiss on her lips. 

[fourmoony]

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐓: Chapter Two

After breaking your ankle in the wake of a break up, you're determined to get through your senior year without any interference from James Potter. That is, until his loyalty to loose cannon Sirius Black lands him straight in your lap. Or, rather, your kiddie-skate group.

CW: Language, mentions of violence, sour sibling relationships, overbearing parents, mention of car crash and scars.

ITN: The Masterlist

James

One of James’ earliest memories is of the rink, back home. It’s not exactly a clear memory. There was lots of falling, a plastic penguin almost the size of him, and Sirius Black. His first day at kiddie-skate. Even though he’d spent more time on his ass than skating, it’s a memory James will always cherish. Even if it blurs, slightly, as time goes on. Because it’s the day he met Sirius. At five years old, James had no idea that the lanky, smart as a whip kid who somehow managed to both stumble across the ice and act like he owned it at the same time, was going to be one of the most important people in his life. Sirius is James’ soulmate. His best friend. There isn’t a day where James isn’t grateful for Sirius Black stumbling into his life; wild and untamed.

Except, maybe, today.

The rink at Hogwarts is a place James always feels at home. The smell of Zamboni fuel and the rubber mats meant to protect skate blades. The banging of lockers and the whir of the air conditioning that keeps the ice cool. It’s a small area of campus where James can go when he feels too much. Too overwhelmed, too sad, too anxious. A safe place. Even training is a relief to James. A time in which he’s allocated to turn his brain off, become captain and lead his team. He focusses on plays and makes mental notes on what to work on with the guys. During games he’s focussed on one thing: winning.

But today. Today, Hogwarts Arena is the very source of James’ anxiety, of the weight in his chest that just keeps pressing. It’s not that he’s scared of the rink. Or even of you. But the idea of being in charge of twelve miniature humans whilst knowing in the back of his mind that you’d rather be literally anywhere else is a pretty decent source of anxiety. The last thing James wants to do is make you uncomfortable in an environment that you love so much. You’ve coached mini skate since you were a sophomore. You once told James that it felt like your purpose. To fill the world with as many accomplished skaters as possible. Be a role-model. A guiding light. Someone they could look back at and think I’m glad I had a coach like her. A motivator. A kind soul.

You’re setting cones out on the ice when James takes a seat on the team bench to put his skates on. The kids are down by the tunnel, if the noise that flows from it is anything to go by. James finds himself staring as you skate. You do it with such ease that it reminds him hockey isn’t the only on-ice sport. You’ve trained your entire life to get to the level you’re at, today. He knows you’re going for Nationals again, this year, refuses to allow himself to think about last year. You deserve better of him than to have him distracted by that whilst co-coaching. He knows how that spiral goes. Spent all of his summer thinking about you, about the physical therapy you’d be enduring, the anger you’d have been feeling. Shame washes over him, hot and fast.

He ties his skates tighter than they probably need to be and joins you on the ice. Your head turns at the sound of his blades against the ice, fresh pressed by the Zamboni, after your training session with Pince, probably. You’re still wearing your training clothes, likely haven’t left the rink to get food between practice and mini skate. James makes a mental note to bring you something, next week.

“You’re late.” You call across the ice. You set another cone down, skate towards the next location.

James weaves in and out of the cones you’ve set out with ease, gaining on you without trying. “My Econ class ran long. Flitwick sent you an email.”

Your ponytail swishes when you turn to drop the next cone, feet crossing in a way James imagines is only capable because of your toe picks. If he tried a move like that in his blunt rounded hockey skates, he’d land on his face. With the final cone in your hand, you skate backwards, eyes on James. “Literally the last thing I said to you was ‘be on time’, James.” You sigh.

James smiles, “Actually, I believe the last thing you said to me was ‘You’re sorry that you feel like shit’.”

Your eyebrows hook in the middle when they furrow. James knows he has no right to chide you or try to joke with you, but he wants this to be painless. He hurt you, he knows that. He done a lot of stupid shit, things he can’t take back, even if he wishes he could. But he never thought you’d want to act like strangers, like two people who can’t hold a civil conversation. In his opinion, there’s too much history there, for that.

“The kids will be out any minute. We’re going over control. You take half, I take half.” You nod your head to the pile of cones on the other side of the rink.

James nods. “Sure thing.” He gets to work on setting up his cones before the kids come out of the tunnel.

The majority of kiddie-skate passes in a flurry of tiny skates torpedoing around James. He tries to keep up, tries not to come across as stern, even when all six of the kids under his leadership would rather race each other across the span of the ice. They remind him of he and Sirius, at that age. Causing trouble everywhere they went, consequences be damned. It’s exhausting, but nowhere near as awkward as he thought it might be. You dutifully keep your kids to your side of the ice, well behaved and skating in neat circles around their cones. James finds himself wondering if you gave him the wild bunch as a punishment. By the end of the session, James finds himself giving in and racing seven-year-old Michael from one net to the other. He considers letting him win but decides against it when he sees the determination on Michael’s face, the sure-fire way he glides on his skates. He’s fast; has potential. That shouldn’t be coddled. It should be nurtured, turned into motivation to try harder, next time. Because, next time, when he does try harder, he might just win. Until he’s playing at division one level.

James is sure that’ll be true, one day.

The parents mill around by the exit doors at the far end of the ice, ten minutes before the session ends. James can’t quite believe how fast the time has gone. You call him and his group of kids over to the middle of the ice, skidding to a stop on the edge of your skates. Dutifully, James directs his kids towards you. “Let’s go, team. The boss wants us over here.”

If you hear him, you don’t say anything. Instead, you direct James to stand next to you, arms crossed over your chest. “What did we learn, today?” You ask.

“Control.”

You nod, smile kind and patient. “That control is a key part in skating. Whether it be hockey or figure skating. If you can’t control your weight, your speed, your skates? Pshh,” You scoff, dramatically, “Game over, guys. You’re out.”

There’s amusement in your voice, despite the importance of what you’re saying. James finds it admirable, your ability to connect with the kids. You could connect with anyone, anywhere, though. It’s the kind of person you are. Patient, kind. Undeserving of all the bullshit James has brought into your life since you met him.

“Did you lose control when you broke your ankle?” One of the kids asks. A younger girl, a sparkly pink helmet sitting squint on her head. There’s no malice, just that childlike innocence that brings about curiosity.

The question shocks you, regardless. Your lips press into a thin line, eyes a little distant. James wonders if he should step in, cover for you. Change the subject, somehow.

“No, Kayla,” You fix your face, a sort of wistful look that James can’t figure out. “No, I lost focus.”

James feels his heart sink. Two nights before you left for Nationals, James dropped an irreversible bomb on you. It broke your heart, tore your relationship apart. Then, he sent you off to Nationals with a head full of his bullshit and watched you break your ankle in front of the entire country. Because he distracted you. He broke your focus. Took away the gold medal that had your name written on it.

The guilt keeps him awake at night. More so than the ache of missing you. Because he does. He misses everything about you. Your smile, your laugh, the way your nose scrunches when you’re focussing. He even misses your grumpiness when trying, and failing, to nail a new routine. He misses holding you, kissing you, telling you that he loves you.

But the guilt, the shame. The reality of what he did. It plays on a loop in his head, eats him alive. He’s trying not to drown in it as he watches you dismiss the kids, waving to parents as you skate them to the door. James just stands there, in the middle of the ice. Unsure of how to act. Unsure of what to do, if he should go, if he should stay and try to talk to you. He settles for skating to the team bench, a carved-out box halfway up the side boards. He sits down on the bench, bends down to untie his skates.

The door clicks shut behind you a moment later, a whoosh of cold air and the scent of your perfume as your skates skid to a stop outside the box, beforehand. James looks up as you cross past him, sitting on the opposite end of the bench. You follow his lead, untying your skates in silence. He puts his guards on, places them in his bag. Puts his shoes on. All the while suffocating in the silence.

“It wasn’t your fault.” You tell James. Your voice is quiet, so soft, like maybe you’re not sure you want him to hear you. Your eyes don’t leave your socked feet, hands folded in your lap.

James focusses on putting his shoes on. Doesn’t look at you. “You were right, you know.”

He catches the way your face scrunches, the sadness there. You won’t appreciate his comfort, so he doesn’t give you it. Instead, he stands, slings his bag over his shoulder. His hand itches to reach out and touch you, to tell you that he’s sorry. He wishes he could change everything, could take it all back. “I do feel like shit. But that’s not why I’m sorry.”

Your head tilts up. Your eyes are filled with tears and James can’t stomach it. He hates himself. You look so sad and tired. “See you on Sunday.” He nods and books it out of the team box, along the corridor, the foyer, and into the carpark.

He climbs into his truck, lets the shame swallow him whole, lets the pain burn him. And there, in private, alone, he breaks. He loathes himself for it. He has no right, no reason to be so sad, so solemn. He took everything from you. Yet he still breaks, anyway.

James doesn’t know how much more he can take before he can’t put himself back together, anymore.

Sirius

The Hogwarts Library is Sirius’ least likely haunt. He, honestly, avoids it at all costs. Unless he’s trying to find Lily. Even then, he tends to only stay for ten minutes, or so. It’s not that he hates studying. He actually enjoys his classes, finds the work stimulating for his overactive brain. He’s smart. That’s not to be doubted, even if he acts like an idiot ninety-nine percent of the time. The reason he hates the library so much is because it reminds him of the one at Grimmauld Place.

Hogwarts library is brighter, in fairness. But the high ceilings, regal architecture, the smell of old books and the eerie quiet. It’s all too similar to the library in his childhood home. It makes his skin crawl, the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. He’s guarded, like he always was at home. A place where it was do or die, fight to survive. Libraries are supposed to be a peaceful place. A place of childlike wonderment, a place where you can get lost in stories of knights in shining armour, passionate love. His opinion of libraries is that it’s a place one would go to get the shit kicked out of them at a dinner party for being too smart tongued. He remembers that all too well. Hates that particular story.

The girl at the front desk smiles kindly at him, but all he sees is a vulture waiting to pick him off, trap him here and make him relive his worst memories over and over. He grimaces, places his hands on the cold wood of the desk and begs it to ground him. Sirius forces a breath as he rolls his shoulders.

“I’m here for community service? There’s a kid writing a paper or something.” His words are breathy, unsure, gritted out through unwilling teeth. He hates this. Hates it with his entire being.

The blonde girl smiles, likely a little awe struck at the sight of a hockey player in the library. As far as Sirius knows, none of them use the library. Half of the team prefer to study at home, and half of them could give less of a shit about their degrees. “Uh, sure, Sirius, right?” She asks, prucking around the desk for a sheet of paper. 

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Astrology is on the third floor. He’ll be waiting at the main desk for you.”

Sirius nods, thanks the girl and heads towards the stairs. He climbs them two at a time, skin itching with anticipation. He really hopes whoever he’s stuck with for the foreseeable future isn’t an overachieving dick. The signs for the astrology section of Hogwarts library point to the right, Sirius follows them all the way to the main desk in the centre of the floor. All of the shelves surround it in a circle, little stars and flecks of paint on the edge of each bookcase. In the centre of the circle sits a circle table, scattered with open books, papers, drawings of constellations.

Sirius tries not to think too hard about the irony of being landed with an astronomy student. He might hate everything about his family, but he loves the stars. Loves his namesake.

There’s no one at the desk, their things left abandoned. Sirius tries not to be nosey but fails. The closest thing to him are drawings, mappings of planets and stars. Hand drawn; with such painstaking detail he finds himself in awe of it. He sets it down, moves on to the next piece of paper, covered in barely legible ramblings about the importance of planet distance, star mapping, it’s barely congeable.

“Did no one ever teach you not to touch what’s not yours?”

Sirius freezes, blood draining from his entire body. The ice cold, baritone voice. Sirius hears it in his nightmares. It claws at the darkest parts of him. His hands shake as he turns; face to face with a more polished carbon copy of himself. Regulus Black is two years younger than Sirius, and yet he looks almost a decade older. He looks positively regal in his ironed clothes, with his perfectly tamed hair and clean-shaven face. Even his shoes don’t have a single scuff on them. It’s not lost on Sirius, the idea that this could have been him. He was supposed to be the heir, the brother with his shit together.

Regulus scowls at Sirius, reaches forwards to rip the paper from his trembling hands. His brain refuses to work, bile rises in his throat. He’s going to kill Moody.

There are memories, there. Playing somewhere in the back of his head. Childlike voices talking in hushed tones, screaming, fighting, hateful words, laughing, crying. He and Regulus were once as close as brothers could be. He hates that Regulus now looks at him with disgust. But refuses to let him win.

“Only thing my parents taught me was to hit fast and hard, watch your enemies wither and die.” Sirius scoffs, hands stuffed in his pockets. He will not allow Regulus to see him rattled. “Of course, they treated their own children like enemies.”

It’s Regulus’ turn to scoff. Even his scoff is prim and proper. He rounds the table and takes a seat, like a king in his throne. Sirius supposes he is. Everything in the Black family dynasty will be his in a few years. Everything Sirius didn’t want. Everything Regulus didn’t want. Not until he didn’t have a choice. “You wanted for nothing.” Regulus quips.

Sirius’ blood burns with the statement. He sounds exactly like their mother. Cruel, evil. Willing to overlook the darkness of her own soul because it got her what she wanted. Money and power. “Spoken like a true Black, Reggie. Congratulations.”

Regulus’ smile is nothing short of bitter. He knows the insult that lies in there, but he shrugs it off as easy as picking a piece of lint from his pure cotton shirt.

“I need all of the books from section A to B noted. Titles, author, date of publication. Alphabetised.” Regulus levels Sirius with a bored look and he balks.

His younger brother, acting like Sirius is beneath him. He shrugs, “Better get to work then, Reggie. Might take you a while.”

“You’re the one on community service for acting like a rabid animal.” Regulus shrugs.

“Yeah, I’ll take the suspension. This shit isn’t gonna happen.”

Regulus chuckles and Sirius can already picture it. His younger brother, sweet, kind, sensitive Reggie. Turned into a fortune five hundred shark, belittling his staff because he can. Just like their father. “Sure. Throw away your hockey career, Sirius. But the Black family won’t be there to welcome you back when you blow your trust fund.”

Sirius’ jaw ticks. Hockey is his life. The Cannon’s won’t touch him with a ten-foot pole, draft or no draft, if he doesn’t touch the ice this season.

“You’re just like him, you know.” Sirius spits. He doesn’t miss the way Regulus’ face hardens; a little shame mixed in there somewhere. They’re too similar, in some ways. Sirius knows exactly where to press where it hurts. 

Regulus hands him a notepad. “A to B.”

“Better get out before you end up like her, too, Reggie. That shit’s irreversible.” Sirius tells him, disappointed in himself for even saying it. It feels like acid on his tongue. He turns and goes to find section A. Doesn’t look back to see the fear on his younger brother’s face.

Remus

Thursday evenings are Remus’ least favourite. There’s no practice to keep his mind occupied, the gym is closed for deep cleaning, there’s nothing for him to occupy himself with, except his weekly call with his parents. He’s longed for an excuse to cancel a million times over. It never comes. A punishment, Remus thinks, for something he did in a past life. He loves his parents. They can be overbearing, intense, but they care. That’s a lot more than some people have.

But they don’t get him. His father, more so, than his mother. Hope Lupin is kind and understanding. If Remus told her he wanted to sack it all in and become a shark wrestler, tomorrow, she’d buy him a shark keyring and do as much research as it took to help him on his way. But Lyall Lupin? Five-time Stanley Cup Winner, top player in the NHL for years, retired, hardass hockey player? He’d strangle his only son with his bare hands. All he ever does is push. He pushes and pushes and refuses to see Remus’ health as an issue.

It’s exhausting. Sometimes, Remus just wants to be told to slow down. As much as he’d hate to (he has goals, things he wants to do, his illness won’t stop him). It would still be nice to not have so much pressure on him all of the time.

The call connects with a heavy sense of dread. Hope and Lyall are in their living room, a large canvass of Remus with his first ever hockey trophy hung proudly behind him. That was before the crash, before the scars and brittle bones. Back when the world was his for the taking. Remus hates that photo.

“Hi, love.” Hope beams, cheeks appled out in a smile.

Remus looks most like his mum. Right down to the sandy brown hair, fluffy and unruly. Except he has his father’s nose. The nose that his least favourite scar slashes jaggedly across. He avoids looking at the square with his face on it. Instead, he focusses on the look on his father’s face.

“What’s wrong?” Remus asks, nerves on edge.

Lyall Lupin, to the media, to people who don’t know him, is an unreadable man. Remus can read him like a book. His face might portray as impassive, but he’s furious. About what, Remus has no fucking idea. It’s always something.

“Nothing, love.” Hope tries to shake it off.

“You were a little heavy on your left skate last game, no?” Lyall grits out.

Remus almost laughs. Like, full on belly laughs. Disbelief washes over him, hot and furious, his blood burning. “I played first and second line because Kennedy bust his shoulder over the summer. You remember I have a bad knee, right?” Remus scoffs, eyebrows raised.

He sees the way his mother eyes his scars, the way they pale with the stretch. She looks sad, remorseful. He relaxes his face, shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“Of course, we do, Rem.”

“You think the Wasps will be impressed with that performance? So early in the season, too.” Lyall scoffs, waving a dismissive hand at Remus.

Sometimes Remus thinks his parents see right through him. Sometimes, he wants to scream that he’s right there. That they almost lost him altogether and anything he does now should be a fucking bonus. That he’s sick of never being good enough. That his father should be grateful Remus is even still physically able to get on the ice.

Instead, he swallows the anger and sighs. “Holme gave me some new physio exercises. It’ll be better next time.”

His father nods. “Good.”

“Is that all, then?” Remus asks shortly.

“How was your week?” Hope asks, at the same time Lyall lets out a stern, cold, “Yes.”

She frowns at her husband, who blatantly ignores her. It raises a feral beast in Remus. A wolf howling. He wants to tell his father to respect his wife, to appreciate all she does for him. But he knows Hope hates when he does that. So, he scoffs, hangs up, and slams his laptop closed. He’s exhausted after a mere five-minute phone call, wants nothing more than to crawl into bed with a book and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

But Sirius stands in his doorway, a sympathetic look on his face. Remus hates it. Hates when Sirius treats him like something fragile, something that can be easily broken. While it may be physically accurate, it will take a lot more effort from Lyall Lupin to break Remus mentally.

“He was in top form.” Sirius murmurs.

Remus nods, runs his hands across his face. The raised bumps of his scars irritates him, so he drops his hands to his lap. “How was community service?”

Sirius shrugs. “The kid writing the paper?”

Remus hums.

“Regulus.”

“Shit. Sorry, Pads.” Remus offers, hand itching to reach out and intertwine with Sirius’. A comforting touch for both of them. He doesn’t.

Just follows Sirius across the room with his eyes as he approaches Remus’ neatly made bed and climbs in. Remus sighs. He’s not sure he has the energy for whatever game Sirius is playing. He can barely keep up anymore. They’re toeing the line between best friends and something else, and while Remus enjoys it, sometimes, he doesn’t think he can stomach it tonight.

But Sirius pushes the display pillows off the side, pulls back the covers for Remus and he finds he can’t resist.

Sirius smells like old books with a touch of cinnamon. He curls into Remus’ side with ease, muscles relaxing until he’s lax in his arms. He feels himself relaxing, too.

“I miss him.” Sirius whispers, voice broken.

Remus presses his lips to Sirius’ hair. “I know.”

“He hates me.”

His chest constricts. Remus knows how much Sirius regrets leaving Regulus. It weighs on him, is probably a large part of why he refuses to take responsibility for anything, ever. He wishes he could make it better for Sirius. “He hates that you got out.”

“I hate myself for not dragging him with me.” Sirius says.

His grip tightens on Remus, his head pushing further into Remus’ neck.

“He’ll forgive you. If you tell him.”

Sirius doesn’t say anything. His breathing slows, Remus feels his eyelashes flutter against his neck. Asleep. Out cold.

He presses one last kiss to Sirius’ hair, pushes all of the thoughts out of his head, and follows suit.

[littlemissmiller]

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒫𝓁𝒾𝓃𝓉𝒽 𝒫𝓇𝒾𝓏𝑒

Pairing: dark!coriolanus snow x fem!himbo!reader

Summary: snow got rid of highbottom before he could reveal his secrets to winning the games and with with lucy gray back in twelve, all he wants is you. with the victory of the games done, there is only one thing left, the Plinth family fortune. at the award dinner however, coriolanus thinks you’re not behaving just how he’d like it, so he decides to do something about it….

Warning: 21+ (drinking), smut, praise kink, dom!snow, sub! reader, degeneration (use of whore, slut), spanking, p in v, oral (m receiving), cum play, rough sex, dirty talk, possession, jealousy, slight obsession, reader is innocent (but not a virgin)

Word count: 7k

A/N: y’all….y’all this one is spiccccy like 🌶️🔥🥵 idk where this came from but another one just sitting in the vault…and i also realized that i wrote this before i wrote Bad Press and His Good Girl (go read those if you haven’t) and this one is kind of both of those stories combined. i think they walked so this one could run in a way because even some of these lines shocked me 🤭 so anyways strap in, buckle up, and enjoy ❦

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Tonight will be perfect. The Plinth Prize dinner. To celebrate the young academy student who won the prestigious award. Coriolanus buttons his new, freshly pressed white linen shirt. It was custom made to his exact measurements and Tigris had taken it upon herself to adorn the shirt with a little color and design. A simple red rose on the shirt pocket. It worked well as a simple white button up, even with the rose hidden under a blazer or sports coat, the subtle design is perfect. He straightens up when he hears a small, repetitive knock at his door. So quiet and timid and afraid. He knows it’s you, but calls out asking who it is anyways. You open the door and peek inside.

“My love? The Grandma’am says breakfast is ready.”

Coriolanus looks over his shoulder. There you stand, halfway in the doorway. Your eyes wide and lips showing him a soft smile.

He smiles back and as he finishes the last button, he takes a seat on the edge of his bed. He laces up a pair of black dress shoes. You tentatively walk further into the room, your eyes simply admiring the man you get to call your own.

“You’re here early today, pet.” He smiles glancing up at you

“Of course. I want to soak in every possible moment I have with you today. Today is all about you. How smart you are.” You say taking a step towards him. “How clever and ambitious.” You take another couple of steps. Coriolanus is now swelling with so much pride he can barely contain himself. You know how your words stir him up.

“Come sit.” Coriolanus commands, patting his leg, taking a seat on the edge of his bed.

You glide over to him, landing softly in this thigh. You wrap your arms around his neck and instantly put his hand in on your body. His finger trails up and down your thigh slowly, gently back and forth.

“My life is about to change, dove. Soon The Snow’s will have a nicer penthouse, or a new home entirely. With a garden for the Grandma’am, and a studio for Tigris.” He whispers, beginning to place a soft kiss on your neck. “And for you. A beautiful bedroom, with a balcony and a bath. Big enough for us both to lay in. While our maid brings us posca to sip. Better yet, champagne. Would you like that?” He asks, his hot breath fanning your ear. You’re too caught up in the fantasy of you lying against him in a huge porcelain bath that you don’t respond at first. He tugs on your earlobe with his teeth to regain your attention.

“You want that don’t you?”

You nod “Yes Coryo, I want that.”

“Good. I’ve already started looking for new places and I think I might have found the perfect place. But I don’t want to get ahead of myself. Not until I officially have the Plinth fortune in my hands.”

“You deserve it. It’s like you say… Snow lands on top.”

“Snow lands on top.” He smiles. He turns your head to face him and he kisses you. His lips are so soft against yours. He takes his time with the kiss he places upon you. Slowly teasing and dragging it out, making you grow needy for him. His fingers graze your chin and the side of your jaw. He pulls back all too soon for you, giving you a devilish grin.

“You will be beautiful tonight. That black dress I bought you, will be stunning at the Plinth family table. You might get mistaken for the main course.” He breaths, trailing his fingers down your throat. His other hand starts to delicately touch your thigh again.

“Or maybe I’ll just save you for dessert later.” His hand trails under your skirt and to your clothed core. He grazes over your slit and you shudder “Mmm good girl.” He kisses your jaw “Now” he pats your thigh “will you be a sweetheart for me and fix up my plate? I’ll be out soon.”

“Of course. Looks like eggs, sausage links, and cubed potatoes.”

“Perfect.” He smiles, before pecking your lips. You hop off his lap, fix your skirt and walk out of his room, turning back to smile at him one last time before you went into the kitchen. Coriolanus feels good. You always make him feel like a man. A man who deserves everything he gets. A smart man who knows how to obtain power and keep it. And you’re so loyal to him. So caring as his woman should be. Attentive to his needs and desires. Yet, you still have much to prove.

Coriolanus was anticipating tonight for many reasons. The prize money that was finally his, to show to his peers at the Academy, and to an extent, Panem. To show that he is living up to his family name. That he was in fact not a poor hungry boy anymore and that this was just the beginning of his many fames and fortunes. Yet, another thought lingered in the back of the blonde headed boy’s mind. You. And how you would behave tonight. You’re not “bratty” per se, but it was no lie you had a fiery side to you, which Coriolanus was cautious of. You could be bold, and it was no lie you had an intimidating aura that surrounds you. Similar to Coriolanus and you appreciate the civility of your class. You know what’s expected of you in the high society of the Capital. So tonight, Coriolanus expects it to be a night where you could really prove yourself to him. Show him how ready you are to stand by his side and unequivocally show support as he takes his rightful first steps into power. He is ready.

As the day went by, the anticipation for dinner flooded his thoughts. Soon he would be in the possession of the most sought after wealth in all of Panem. It would be all his. Too bad high as a kite, Casca Highbottom, wasn’t here to witness it all go down. Coriolanus would have liked it if he had at least witnessed the moment he won the prize. Even though the announcement of the prize money came before his death, it would have been nice to shove it in his face. Meanwhile, in the reality of the lab, Coriolanus kept his head down in his work. He didn’t quite care much for getting hands-on in experiments, but as one Dr. Gaul’s personal favorite, Coriolanus was able to avoid such work and stick to research. He was a much better writer anyways.

“Snow! How are you my boy?” Dr. Gaul’s voice rings out as she walks toward him

“Doing well.”

“It’s a big day.” She hisses and Coriolanus nods

“Yes. I’m looking forward to this evening.” He agrees

“Much anticipated. I hope to meet the lovely woman I keep seeing accompanying you these days. She’s no Lucy Grey is she?”

Coriolanus pauses for a moment to gather himself and his anger with a half hearted chuckle.

“Well that’s because she’s not a means to an end this time Dr. Gaul.” He smirks, “I think you’ll find her to be charming.”

“Charming.” She repeats and walks off

Dr. Gaul was not wrong about you being no Lucy Gray, but that’s not why she was bringing his past up. Coriolanus knew it was meant to get under his skin. A way to remind him of that summer. The games and the girl he left behind. Coriolanus thought he had loved her, but once she got back to twelve, she was back to singing about her old lover and Coriolanus knew that she had played him as smoothly as her guitar. So he blocked her out, forgot about her and cleaned up her loose ends, which included taking care of Highbottom as soon as the games had ended. Then, with a new found sense of confidence he decided it was time to settle a long lasting urge. You. You had always been in his view. A long standing school boy crush that he could never quite seem to shake. You were perfect for him too. Your family had been historic in Panem. One of the few heirs of a family lineage that used to be famous back before Panem came to power. Coriolanus didn’t feel as if he was good enough back when you were schoolmates so he considered you to be an unattainable fantasy until he had more power and wealth. Yet, Lucy Gray had enchanted him, drawn his eyes away from you like a siren and he crashed his ship. He fell into a whirlwind of emotions he had never felt before, but it was all a lie.

The week after the games, Coriolanus took matters into his own hands. After his last encounter with Highbottom, he sought you out. And of course you said yes. How could you not say yes to his confession of love and off the heels of his victory? So tonight, he would show that not only was he over Lucy Gray, but he would be showing you off and he only hopes you wouldn’t make a fool of him. The announcement of his courtship of you had become semi-public, but most of Panem was still curious as to how the young Snow was holding up now that “his girl” was back in twelve. He would show them and he would show you.

As he dresses for this evening, he tries not to maul over Dr. Gaul’s words.

She’s no Lucy Gray…She’s no Lucy Gray…She’s no-

Coriolanus curses himself to shut up. He feels shameful for not flooding his thoughts with anything but you. You and your perfect body. Your elegant curves, your soft skin. Coriolanus tried to imagine you on his bed, your beautiful body spread completely naked for him. Since taking you as his own, Coriolanus had not found time for you and him to be together in that way. He wants you. He wants you bare beneath him, hands trailing your sides as you whimper and whine for him to give you more. And, oh how pretty you would look as he ravished and lapped up your wetness. Better yet, how pretty would you look on your knees, mouth agape and ready. Your glossy lips, so ready for him. His imagination seizes as soon as he hears a tapping at the door.

“Hey. Oh wow….” Tigris exclaims “Oh Coryo look at you!”

He looks back at her. Tigris is as equally well dressed as he. It’s clear she made her own dress tonight, a simple long sleeve, navy dress, with gold embroidery on the sleeve. Coriolanus turns to look at himself in the mirror. Slicking his hair back, he admires himself in his all black suit. Tigris approaches him, brushes off and lint from his shoulders, and pins a white rose to his lapel. He smiles and nods at her.

“Thank you. I wouldn’t have thought to add it.”

“Oh I would. Didn’t you see the inside of your jacket? She asks

Coriolanus had noticed that Tigris had modified his evening jacket with a sublet white stitching pattern, but hadn’t taken a close enough look. He pulls it back. Little white rose. So little and intricate it was practically hidden in plain sight.

“Always such clever craftsmanship, cousin.” He beams

“Oh Coryo” she sighs “You look so much like your father.”

Coriolanus smiles, once again admiring his handsome features and how good he looks with the new touches to his suit.

“Thank you. I wouldn’t be here without you and the Grandma’am.” He remarks not knowing what else to say

“Don’t sell yourself short. We’re so proud of you Coryo. I know that's cheesy but I had to say it before the night got away from us.”

Tigris leaves to help the Grandma’am get ready and Coriolanus lets his driver know he’s ready to go. They drive to your house, and Coriolanus is taken aback when he finally sees you. Your sleek, velvet dress hugs your body so perfectly. The back dips low and the front shows just enough cleavage to tease. And you have adorned yourself with beautiful silver jewelry. A necklace with a line pendant leading to your cleavage, several bracelets, and small hoop earrings.

Coriolanus keeps his hand deliberately on your thigh as you and him make your way to The University, where the dinner is being held. He glances over at you, and admires your soft features. The dip in your collarbone looks so inviting to kiss, your neck and jawline shaped perfectly by the sliver. You look so flawless, so ideal and to his liking, but Coriolanus was cautious with his compliments. He had told you that you look beautiful when he saw you, but that was all for now. If you behave as exceptionally as you look, then he’d be sure to reward you. As the grand pillars of The University draw closer into view, Coriolanus squeezes your thigh. You look over at him, smiling and he trails his fingers across your jaw. You desperately want to kiss him, so you lean in. He gives you a few small pecks on your lips and you smile. He gives you one last peck before pulling back. The car comes to a slow stop and you look out the window at the entryway to The University.

“Are you ready?” Coriolanus asks and you nod.

He exits the vehicle and pulls around to open your door. You step out of the car, taking the extended hand out to you. You and him walk inside and your stomach flutters. You feel nervous, not wanting to displease your boyfriend on one of his most important nights. You smooth out your dress and tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Coriolanus takes hold of your hand and you both walk into the venue. The entrance is adorned with white and gold banners, with rope lights hanging from the ceiling. There are round tables scattering the floor and a long table in the back of the room. Coriolanus ushers you both to the long table. Several heads turn as you and him walk up. The faint whispers and admiration swirls in the air around you. Once at the table, Coriolanus pulls up a seat for you.

Next to you, is Sejanus Plinth with the rest of the Plinth family. He waves to you and Coriolanus. You take it upon yourself to dive into conversation with him, seemingly unaware of how you are ignoring your boyfriend. He snakes a hand finger the table and onto your thigh. It causes you to glance over momentarily, you pause, smile at him, then soon return to your conversation with Sejanus. Soon enough, posca and wine is being served and Coriolanus takes a flute of posca off a server tray. You take a flute of champagne in contrast and so does Sejanus. Why are you drinking champagne with Sejanus and not posca with him? Are you trying to get drunk? Are you trying to get him drunk? Coriolanus decides to finally insert himself into the conversation and get your attention back. As he’s about to speak, Tigris and the Grandma’am make their arrival and sit next to him.

“Are we late?” Tigris asks

“No uh- you’re fine, you’re fine” he starts “darling why don’t we go make our way around the room?” He announces, turning to you suddenly. He takes your hand, stands up, and takes you off with him in no particular direction. You tell Sejanus that you’ll talk to him in a bit, which makes Coriolanus’s blood boil. He takes you to a group of students who you had never met. His hand finds the small of your back as he makes small talk with your fellow soon to be University classmates. You have never met Coriolanus friends and was almost certain he didn’t have any besides Sejanus. You find it curious at this moment then, why he has pulled you away to talk to who you always assumed were mere acquaintances. You occasionally glance at him, then around the room, hoping to see if you can politely excuse yourself to catch up with your own friends. He notices your inattentiveness, lightly squeezing on your hip whenever your eyes are drawn away from him and his company for too long.

You soon spot a girl from your book club and excuse yourself to go greet her. Coriolanus masks his disapproval in your decision and begrudgingly lets you go off. He continues his facade and turns his attention back to his group of peers. They are all very interested in him, yet Coriolanus couldn’t be less interested in them. They ask him questions about what he plans to do with his prize money, besides going to The University, and too many questions about the games.

She’s no Lucy Gray

The words echo in his mind again.

He glances at you, still chatting with your friend. He half mindedly answers another question about his plans to study politics, trying to refocus his attention back to the group. He was fuming on the inside and his need for politeness traps him to the spot. The small talk was getting to him. He didn’t expect to have to stand here and entertain these people for so long. After all he was only using them as a means to get you away from Sejanus, who unbeknownst to Coriolanus, is making his way back to you.

You, on the other hand, are finally enjoying yourself. Feeling free from the confines of your role as Coriolanus’s date. Even though your romantic relationship has only spanned the course of a few weeks, the expectations to be Coriolanus’s girlfriend has been challenging. His new found wealth, victory, and fame has set everything off. His attitude has changed, his image of himself, and the idea that he belongs on top has become the driving force of his life. You had a feeling that Coriolanus used to be much softer, more gentle, and more vulnerable. Now, you got this new side of him and you barely even knew what he was like before all this. He’s such a mystery to you. Your attention refocuses as Sejanus makes his way to you and your friend. You include him in the conversation, happy to be talking to one of the few people in the Capital who seem to be above the pomp and circumstance. Coriolanus is perfect for you, but he was a traditionalist and upheld the many social rules the Capitol citizens had manufactured. As did you, and you knew your place, but weren’t found if it. Having someone like Sejanus around made you feel less alone in your feelings. You let out a small laugh as Sejanus makes conversation with you which Coriolanus manages to pick up on.

He whips around to look at you. There you are, giggling like a pathetic little school girl at Sejanus. Didn’t you get the point? Why the hell are you trying to embarrass him like this? Coriolanus abruptly excuses himself. He swipes two glasses of posca and bee lines for you.

“Here my love. I notice your glass is empty.” He barges forward, taking the empty champagne flute from your hand and replacing it with the posca glass.

“Thank you dear.” You smile trying to mask the confusion you feel about his seemingly on edge behavior tonight. Coriolanus consciously sips on his own posca, looking at Sejanus. Senjanus however, is none the wiser. He gives Coriolanus a goofy smile, which sends his hand trailing down to clutch your hip. He rubs his thumb lightly against you, and you take a drink from your own glass, feeling slightly put off.

“I was going to make our way back to our seats before dinner is officially served. I think your father has a speech prepared for tonight.” He nods to Sejanus, before dragging you back to the table

“Coryo?!” You whisper, your confusion drawing to a peak and your frustration taking over.

Coriolanus stays silent, throwing fake smiles towards people as you make your way to the front of the room. He grips your hand, and you reclaim your seat. He glances at you, sneering slightly. You find Tigris’s face to see if she has picked up on his mood and of course she has. She gives you a concerning look, yet shakes her head as if she’s confused. You’re not sure if you find it reassuring or feel more worried.

“Coryo? Is there something wrong?”

“Later.” He sneered harshly

Just then, Dr. Gaul approaches the table. Coriolanus taps your leg, indicating for you to stand and greet her.

“Hello again Mr. Snow.”

“Dr. Gaul” he smiles and introduces you to her.

“Yes, I’m familiar with your family history. What an honor it must be to have such a name. I’m sad I never got to have you as my student. ”

“It’s a true honor” you lie, you could care less about your name and the history behind it to live a normal life.

“Well Mr. Snow you certainly are lucky to have such a pleasant date night.” She smirks, sounding as if she is revolted by your existence, but masks it well enough to toe the line.

You fake a smile and look at Coriolanus, holding his shoulder with pride.

“Yes we are having a wonderful evening too.”

“How nice. A word before dinner, Snow?”

Coriolanus nods and follows Dr. Gaul. Meanwhile Sejanus scoots closer to you to re-engages in conversation. Dr. Gaul leads Coriolanus to the bar where she orders a glass of posca.

“I just got word of an opportunity I wanted to tell you about.”

“Of course.”

“Would you, instead of mentoring this year’s hunger games, want to take a chance at playing game maker?”

“Game maker? You think I should.”

“You’re a wonderfully, brilliant boy Coriolanus. I can see so much more in Your ideas in your final semester essay that tells me everything I need to know. Think about it and if you write a decent enough application it’s yours.”

“Well thank you Dr. Gaul for letting me know. I will definitely be considering it.”

“Good. And oh your date…she’s very lovely. I see you two working well together…”

“I’m glad you found her charming then.”

“Oh…no Mr. Snow. Not quite yet, but she certainly seems to be charming the young Mr. Plinth over there.”

Coriolanus turns back around to see Senjanus cozying back up to you. He contains his anger as he excuses himself back to you, making sure to thank Dr. Gaul for presenting him the opportunity of game maker. He rushes back to his seat, squeezing in while you are still mid-conversation with Sejanus. He squeezes your thigh. The rest of the evening feels tense. Eventually, Strabo Plinth made a speech about the importance of Academic pursuits and ambitions. He mentioned the games, Coriolanus’s victory and what it meant to be an exemplary Panem citizen above all else. As he talks, Coriolanus is locked into every word, but makes sure to keep you in his sight. You too are locked in, your hand on top of your boyfriend’s thigh, squeezing it occasionally. Little do you know that for so many reasons at this moment, Coriolanus is still angry, but also turned on. Fueled by jealousy over Sejanus, but the words of Strabo’s speech in combination with your hand on him, was making his cock hard.

Despite embarrassing him earlier in the night, you now sat there beautifully by his side. You seem attentive and engaged, and the physical touch is all he needs to know that you’re there. He shifts in his seat and stands as Strabo calls him up to receive the prize. You stand with him, ever so proud. He kisses you, then walks up, shaking Strabo’s hand as he takes the velvet red envelope with the check for the prize money in hand. You tune everything out and focus on the gorgeous man in front of you. Even though you’re still somewhat confused, you can’t help but admire him like this. Confident and on the verge of greatness. His expression screams that nothing will stand in his way.

As the evening wraps up, Coriolanus finds himself wrapped in so many conversations he is starting to feel like a broken record. He stands not too far from you as you talk to Tigris.

“Was he nervous at home? Before he picked me up?” You ask

“No. I’m not quite sure what’s gotten into him to be honest dear. All the excitement perhaps.He seems better now that he has the award.

You sign, shrugging your shoulders. Sejanus returns back to his seat with two glasses of posca in his hand.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

“Perhaps one last one” you smirk

“Is everything ok?” He asks

“Yes. I’m enjoying the evening just…you’re close with Coryo…do you notice he’s acting on edge?”

“Slightly yeah. I’m not sure why.”

“Me either…” you hang your head and take a sip of your drink.

As if he was summoned by the mere mention of his name, he is standing behind you. You look up at him with innocent eyes and set your glass down.

“I’m ready to go. People are starting to leave.” He murmurs, holding his hand out. He bids Tigris a goodbye, promising to see her at home and gives the Grandma’am a kiss on the cheek goodbye, thanking them both for coming. Once in the car, Coriolanus is consumed in his emotions. His leg shakes furiously as he looks out the window. He hides part of his face with his mouth and ignores you. You roll up the driver partition and place a hand on his shaking leg.

“Coryo, please what’s wrong, love?”

He takes a deep breath and looks further into the window. You touch his shoulder and he turns to you.

“You really would rather be with Sejanus” He snaps

“What?”

“I saw you around him. He’s not bad looking, I get it, he’s innocent right. Is that the appeal? Innocent little privileged district boy.”

“Coryo…you can’t be serious?”

“The future First Lady of Panem. Acting like you can flirt around and embarrass me. Tonight of all nights…” he mumbles not loud enough for you to hear.

When the car stops, it isn’t your house it pulls up to. Coriolanus exits the vehicle and swings around to open your door. You get out and he trails behind you. Once in his house he storms into the kitchen, and pours himself a glass of whiskey. He takes a sip and removes his sports coat, placing it on the back of a chain. You tentatively follow him, still keeping your distance. His back is turned to you, his chest rising and falling.

“He’s a friend.”

“He’s my friend too, but I wasn’t hanging around him all night.” He rolls his eyes

“Can I not make conversation with him? I support you through and through, but those types of events are so much. I’ve never enjoyed them, but I went for you.”

“And embarrassed me. Couldn’t you see him flirting with you. Getting you drinks, making you laugh. It was pathetic really.” He snaps, downing his whiskey and pouring himself another. Dr. Gaul sure noticed. Thought I was a fucking cuckhold. Now she thinks I can’t even hold my women down.”

“She said that?”

“She didn’t have to say anything. She saw you.” He huffs

“He’s nothing to me ok Coriolanus! You think I’d rather be with someone who still calls their mother Ma?” You bark back

Coriolanus looks at you for a moment and pauses. Then, he strides towards you, capturing your face, locking his lips with your own. It was the last thing you’d expect of him. As he moves his lips against yours, passion and hunger overtaking his mind. Feeling even more confused than at the dinner, you pull away and look at him. He pants, clearly needy for more.

“I don’t understand?”

“You think he’s beneath you?”

“I well…he’s not you. I’d rather have the boy with the prize than the boy whose namesake it belongs to.”

Coriolanus pulls you closer to him, he hooks his finger along the front line of your dress, his other hand cups your ass.

“And do you know who you belong to?” He sneers

“Y-y-you…”

“Good girl”

He pulls you back to him, his forehead pressing against yours. He pinches your chin, lets out a small smirk and kisses you again. He gropes your ass harshly, landing a fat smack. You yelp in surprise.

“I bet Sejanus just wishes he could feel you like this.”

“Coryo…”

“Shh it’s ok baby. He wants you. He wants you so bad, but he can’t have you….” He noted, grinding his crotch against you. “No he can’t. Because who do you belong to again?”

You close your eyes and rest your forehead again, his nodding, barely able to speak as your mind turns to jelly.

He grips your chin and cheeks, smooshing your face. “Look at me. Who. Do. You..belong to?”

“You” you whimper

He gives you a few light, little slaps to the face.

“That’s right you belong to me. Not Sejanus. You’re mine.”

You nod and he lets go of his grip on your face. He’s hungry for you, it's clear. His lust filled eyes are dark and needy.

“D-do you want to hurt me? Am I being punished?

“No baby, of course I don’t want to actually hurt you…” he coos, chucking slightly “but I think you need to be put in your place a little. Let me ask you something? Do you want to be First Lady of Panem? Stand by my side from this day and help me rise to the top? You want it too don’t you?” He chuckles

He wasn’t wrong. Despite your distaste for your family’s fame and history, to stand by Coriolanus’s side. It would be a dream. You had been fond of him for a while, but like Coriolanus, you thought it was too good to be true. You nod your head at his question and in response he wraps his hand under your chin.

“Tell me” he demands

“Yes, Coyro. I do.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, soft lips landing harshly against yours. He fights for dominance and you give in, letting his mouth consume your own. He pushes his tongue in, swirling it with yours. He breaks from the kiss to start attacking your neck. He nibbles and kisses down your throat, causing you to elicit a soft moan from your lips. He smirks against your skin, causing you to shutter.

“Coyro…a-a-are you sure you want out first time to be like this?”

“Yes doll, especially after tonight.” He hisses

“I-I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” You stutter

“I know and that’s exactly why I need to show you how to act. By showing you first who you belong to. To show you’re mine.

He dives for your neck, lips trailing down your skin.

“Do you not want me talking to anyone but you then?”

“No my dear, I just can’t have you making a fool of yourself anymore by letting men like Sejanus flirt with you. And once I mark you up a little…” he pauses, his hand coming up to cup under your chin. He rubs his thumb along the base of it. “They’ll know to back off.”

Coriolanus’s words sink in as harshly into you as his teeth do as he nibbles down on your neck. He sucks and bites, leaving beautiful wine red marks on you. He pulls back momentarily to admire his work. He lets out a soft sigh, pleased with himself. He trails his fingers around the spots he marked up and smirks. He dives back in, licking a long, broad stripe up your neck, and up to your ear. You whimper some more, the sensation of his tongue causing your cunt to drip. His hands snake down to cup your ass, he wants to carry you to his bedroom. He moves his arms to lift your legs around his waist. He hoists you up, causing your dress to ride up your thighs. You let out a soft yelp of surprise. He smacks your ass, causing you to let out a more clear squeal. He starts to move towards his bedroom, holding you tightly against his chest. You cling to him, your lips finding his neck and you place a few cautious kisses.

Once in his bedroom he flops you down on the bed, you gasp. Looking up at him, you shutter in excitement, but still feeling fearful. He notices, smirking at you again

“It’s ok my pet, be a good girl for me?” He demands, his tone a warning

You nod and he clicks his tongue at you.

“Tsk…” he has a seat at the edge of the bed. He pulls your ankles towards him, your ass sliding over his hips and settling onto his crotch. He pushes your dress further up your body and over your head. You grunt, arching your back. He tosses the dress on the ground, his hand touches you again, fingers trailing down your figure slowly. He admires you for a moment. Then, with a devilish grin taking over his handsome features, he squeezes your thigh and tosses it across your body. Laying on your stomach in anticipation, you feel exposed. He rolls up his sleeves, then rubs his hand over your ass. He readjusts your lacy black panties to expose more of your butt to him and he lands a firm slap on you. You squirm and yelp, his other hand holds you back down as he gives you another slap to the ass. He grips your hair, forcing your cheek up to his nose.

“I like good girls who know how to use their words. Now when I ask you something I want you to use your words. Got it?”

“Yes..” you whimper

He rubs your ass, his hand moving in slow, soft, big circles.

Slapslapslap

“Yes sir?”

“Yes sir” you bite your lip

Coriolanus proceeds to slap your ass over and over again, each cheek getting redder and redder. He gropes and massages you at the same time, making sure to occasionally dip his fingers over your clothed cunt and rub slowly. Each time you would try not to squirm, but it’s nearly impossible not to. He spreads your legs a little to gain better access to your pussy. Coriolanus moves your panties aside, spits on his hand, then dips his fingers into your aching slit. You cry out in surprise, landing you a fast, sharp slap this time.

“Don’t act surprised. Don’t act like you didn’t expect it. Any of it. Keep being my good girl and tell me who you belong to again…” he growls

“Y-you sir.”

Slap

“Again” he demands

“You. I belong to you Coriolanus.”

He gives you another slap, smiles to himself, then snakes his hand under your stomach through the back of your legs. He lifts you up as he stands, turning around and placing you on the bed, ass up, ready for him. You look behind you and watch him as he unbuckles his belt. You bite your lip in anticipation as he pulls his pants down, bringing his boxers with him. You gasp as you watch his cock spring out. He notices you staring and moves his hand to your hair. He shoves your face into the pillows.

“This isn’t for you to enjoy tonight. Another night we will do this properly, I’ll let you touch me, kiss me, but tonight, I’m in control.”

He moves your panties to the side and you bury your face into the mattress, forcing yourself to muffle your moans as his thick member spreads your core. He leaves you no time to let you adjust and he trusts in you, every so often slapping your ass. He doesn’t let up, chasing his pleasure like prey. You turn your head to breathe, gasping as he practically shoves you into the mattress.

“I’ll treat you how you deserve next time. I promise you my sweet. Because next time I know you won’t act up. Right. You won’t let Sejanus flirt with you.

“Yes sir” you squeal

“Ooooh goood girrrl” he purrs speeding up

The lewd sounds of his balls slapping against your pussy fills the entire room, along with your cries of pleasure. It only encourages him to grab your hair tighter. Tangling it up in his fingers, he pulls you close to him. He starts to fuck up into you like a toy and all you can do is take it. Your mind is numb, brain all fucked out.

“Seems like you know your place now hmm. Are you going to obey me, my love? Not flirt and flaunt around like a common whore?”

“N-no sir”

“Because this is how a common whore is treated. They get treated like a little naughty play thing. Like the filthy little sluts they are.” He snarls

He pounds into you like it’s the last time he’ll ever fuck you. His deliberate, hard thrusts are almost too much to bare and you feel your orgasm creep up on you. All the sudden, you clench and spasm around him. You cum hard, harder than you expect. He whispers continuously praises of “good girl” over and over until he finally finishes, dumping his thick seed into your hole. He fills you up, pulling out slowly and watching as his cum drips out of you. He admires you, his middle finger rubbing up your folds, and into you, shoving the cum back inside you. He pats your ass and you lower yourself. He strips himself of the rest of his clothes, crawling next to you on the bed. He leans against the headboard and you flip over, curling up to him.

“I promise next time it will be sweeter. I just can’t let you get away with that behavior and now…” he kisses your temple “you never will..”

“I promise I won’t let Sejanus flirt with me again.”

“Good. I’ll make sure to send my own message to him.” He smirks, his fingers dancing around your sore neck

“Coryo!” You exclaim in fear

“Shh baby it’s ok. He won’t get hurt, just tuck his tail and run home to his Ma” Coriolanus chuckles, his mocking tone making you laugh a little

“I promise I won’t let him do that again” you nod

“That’s my girl…now get on your knees.” He insists and you nod.

You crawl onto the floor, ushering yourself in between his legs.

“Mouth open, tongue out.” He instructs

You obey and look up at him. You flatten your tongue against your bottom lip and open wide. He coos at you, rubbing his length across your face, teasing his tip along parted lips. Then he pushes in, causing you to gag.

“Fucking suck it.”he sneered

You nod and bob your head, getting his cock nice and wet.

“Oh there you go.”

He holds the back of your head, moving his hips as you take more of him into your mouth. He bites his lip harshly, grunting aggressively. His cock hits the back of your throat over and over and over again. He pulls away for a moment, watching in awe as a line of saliva trails from your lips to the tip of his dick. He wipes it up, sticking his thumb in your mouth. Your lips wrap around it and suck. He smiles at you, slapping your face again. Your eyes water, small tears falling down your cheek from the sting of the pain. But you like this. You liked his dominance in a way that you didn’t expect or realize.

“You’re pretty. Do you like this cock in your mouth?

“Yes sir.”

“Yes Daddy?”

“Yes Daddy.” You nod and he shoves himself back into your mouth.

He lets out a long, staggering moan. He moves his hips more slowly this time, watching your little mouth stretch around him. He pulled away the way out, taking his length in his hand and slapping against your lips. He continues to let his greed overtake him, moving his balls close to your face. You suck them into your mouth and he let out a loud groan.

“Oh fuck you know how to make me feel amazing don’t you baby. S’good for me” he tosses his head back.

Your lips feel so soft and perfect around his cock it makes him want to bust again. You stroke him as you continue sucking on his balls, feeling that he’s close again. With a few more strokes, he finishes. He holds your chin and pressed the tip to your lips. You part them and let the white sticky cum paint the inside of your throat.

“Ohmygod baby girl…fuck look at you.” He pants and you swallow his load. It wasn’t as heavy going down your throat and you take it down with a loud gulp. He tilts your face up to look at him, his blue eyes clouded with lust.

“Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes Coriolanus”

“Good. Next time you’ll get what you actually deserve.”

You nodded, feeling fucked out and spent. You continue to nod and he pulls you up, kisses you fiercely, some of his cum pressing onto his lips.

He pulled away, whipping it off his lips and shoving it into your mouth.

“Yeah, you learn quickly don’t you. You’ll make a great First Lady.” He whispered

“I hope to be”

“Good. I think you will be. If you continue to learn like you do, this life will be easy on you pet”

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

[fqiryspit]

ahh congratulations on the milestone!!! you truly deserve it 💗 this is such a cool idea, i’m so excited to see what you write 💗

can i request smut 3, 22 and 27 pls? :) i really hope i did that right lol

hii babes! thank you so much! and yes you did it perfectly!

3, 22, and 27 = please kiss me, show me how much you need me, and do you think you deserve this?

bully!eren x nerd!reader

cw: dom!reader, pussy eating, sex in a classroom, squirting, whiny eren, and eren has a weird way of showing his feelings, reader wears glasses

leaning against the cold locker you picked at your nails, bored as ever.

as your glasses slid and halt at the end of your nose, you shake them back up just to see a face not inches away from yours

"shit!" you gasp, sliding up on the locker you were leaning on as he corners you in

"what the fuck are you doing?" he snarls, your features twist as you try and remember a time you pissed off eren intentionally

"what do you mean?" you relax, feeling angrier than frightened until he slams a hand onto the locker next to you, successfully closing you in

"last weeks quiz" he answers simply. you feel your shoulders tense as you recall him cheating off you, it's nothing new, except...well...you failed.

"you don't flunk quizzes, y/n." his jaw clenches down, eyes burning wholes straight through your frames

"well thank you" you chuckle, hiding how you desperately want to get out of this situation with humor

"don't try and be a smart ass now."

"what was so fucking fascinating you failed us both?" he asked, you were hoping he'd think you put the wrong answers on purpose and just erased them at the end. because that would've been a lot better from the truth.

"i-" you tuck your bottom lip in, fuck, you're probably so red right now

"holy shit" he remarks, you feel yourself sinking into the metal behind you as he barks laughter into your face "who was getting you so hot and bothered?" he asks, you turn away from him as you refuse to play into his torture

"oh, don't say it was-"

"armin."

eren was obviously taken aback by your statement, thinking it was him you'd be so distracted by. he felt the warmth pool to his cheeks before he could even digest what you just said

"oh." he slips out, disappointment thick on his tongue as your head shoots up from the lack of teasing

"what's so good about armin?" his question shocks you but you scoff before crossing your arms and looking up at him

"okay, well, first of all, he's not a dick...he's extremely smart, handsome, and-" suddenly you're being pushed to the room next to you, stumbling into the vacant art class

"what the hell" another pull and you're against the wall with his lips on yours, once you process what's happening you push him off you immediately

"eren! what the fuck!" you snap, wiping your lips off as heat pools your cheeks

"fuck- I'm sorry I-" he stutters over his words, placing a hand over his eyes to delete himself from this conversation

"what's...wrong with you?" you say a little more genuinely, eren...just kissed you? and now is, what...embarrassed about it?

"y/n, please I'm just- youstartedgoingoffaboutarminandimsorry" he says in one breath as you stand there, shocked.

soon you spit out a laugh, not taking him seriously until you watch him stare at the floor with shame

"oh, you're- you're serious?" you say through tears while walking towards him.

"so you being an absolute dick to be for the past, what, four months was just an act?" you yell,

"I'm sorry" "do you know how much you embarrassed me? made me look like an idiot?"

"do you think you deserve this? me?" you coo, going up to him as you even notice tears forming in his eyes

"aw, now you're gonna fucking cry" you taunt at him and he looks up at you finally. your eyes moving to his red ones, glossy and plump from the kiss you shared not moments before

"no, I wouldn't deserve you" he chokes out, you feel warmth pool in your panties. uncomfortably shifting as you decide to take a turn with this altercation

"show me..." you whisper, he stares at you, confused as you speak up again with more force

"show me how much you need me" his eyes blow as you move to kiss him, hands cupping his tan cheeks as your glasses squish into his face, your lips lap together frantically as you move to undo the belt he has on

with that, he follows and strips you of your jeans and spins you around, laying on the desk

moving to your soaked panties he rips them off hurriedly and moves to lick up your pussy, you've always heard the tall tales of the monster cock and unworldly fucking but never gave it the time of day, now you're living it.

your back arches against the glossed desk as you feel yourself unwinding already.

"fuck, eren" you moan out, moving to grip your own tit through your shirt as he continues to suck your clit until your cream spills on his face

he laps at the essence until satisfied and moves up to your face where his pupils were spinning and his chin was shining

"please kiss me" he slurs, deep voice rasping against your face as he waits for your move

you move up and kiss him, teeth knocking together as you move your lips rapidly

you feel his head nudging your entrance as you buck your hips toward it, he slides it in bit by bit as you try to relax as you take in his (now proven) monster cock

"holy fuck" you whisper, he kisses your temple as he thrust the rest of himself in, you moan into his tee shirt as he snaps his hips into yours, reaching down and rubbing your clit as he moves toward your ear

"I'm gonna make you fucking squirt on my cock" he says as if it's already set in stone, and honestly, with how he's treating you right now, you're gonna say it is.

"you terrify me ya'know" a hard thrust. "talkin' about armin like that" another. "like you fucking like him" again. "I'll treat you so well, you deserve it, especially after everything I did"

"I'm so sorry" he says but it goes through one ear and out the other

"eren," you move to try and catch his eyes with the pace you're being fucked at

"this is the perfect apology" you moan, he moves to kiss your cheek as you daze out, he rubs your clit again, pressing on it from time to time to tease you slightly

"fuck fuck eren-" you whine, feeling your orgasm approaching rapidly

"me too baby, fuck you keep sucking me the fuck in" he groans, speeding up his pace as he haphazardly rubs your clit

"fuck! fuck!" you can no longer control your moans, the bell rings out and you're forever grateful as you both scream freely when you cum

(as promised) you squirt everywhere, and you're laid limp on the desk as you feel a kiss on your head and the muffled chatter of students in the hall

he moves to kiss you again, finding your lips so addictive as he gets more before saying,

"c'mon, we gotta get to class"

an: ahhh! I hope you liked this! also, thank you so so so much for requesting! I was so stoked to see your request and I'm already having a lot of fun writing these <33

[sunshinesteviee]

mvp - s.h.

summary: you think steve deserves a prize after his baseball game for being the MVP; baseball player!steve wc: 3.9k warnings: a bit of baseball, but it's honestly not too heavy on it lol. this is mostly smut!! 18+ only, mdni!!!! car sex, but they're in the middle of nowhere, fingering, handjob, unprotected piv (pls be smart); fem!reader a/n: alright this has been in the works for fuckin forever, but it's finally done!! i hope it lives up to the hype lol. huge shoutout to @harringtonswriting for the original idea forever ago, and to @stevebabey for listening to me cry abt this for the past month and a half lol. enjoy!!!

Masterlist

huge thank you to @inkluvs for this^ cutie and to @t-lostinworlds for this gorgeous moodboard!!

It’s a surprisingly nice evening for summer in Indiana. There’s a warm breeze that kisses your cheeks and keeps you cool under the late afternoon sun. Perfect for one of Steve’s baseball games. The last few you went to were unbearably hot, so even though it’s still warm, and you’re still sweating a bit, this is much better. Not that you’re paying much attention to the weather with how close this game is. 

His team is up by two points in the top of the ninth, and there’s someone on base, but if they hold them off from scoring, they’ll win. Steve’s pitching, and you know he’s feeling a lot of pressure, especially since this is a pretty important game near the end of the season. But you also know that he’s totally got this. He’s been pitching so many strikeouts this game, and he can definitely do one more. 

He stands at the pitcher’s mound, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he squints at his catcher. He looks fucking beautiful, quite honestly. Tan skin glowing in the golden hour sun, the sleeves of his jersey tight around his biceps. Pretty hair tucked under his hat, the eyeblack he’d carefully applied before the game smeared across his cheeks. You might just have to jump his bones when the game is over. 

Steve gets into position, presses the ball into his glove, and takes a deep breath. You stand from your seat on the rusty bleachers, metal creaking underneath you, to get a better view of the field. Someone behind you — probably Jessica, another player’s girlfriend — huffs in annoyance, but you ignore her, too caught up in Steve, and sending him all of the good luck you can. He moves into his windup position, takes another deep breath, and sends the ball over the plate in a perfect strike that the batter watches go by. 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and whistle loudly, earning you even more dirty looks from the people sitting around you. Half of them are supporters of the other team, so you can’t blame them, but you’re not going to quiet your support for your boyfriend. You know he can hear you — his eyes flick to yours for just a moment when he hears your whistle, and his mouth pulls up at one corner almost imperceptibly. He winks at you, subtle enough to go unnoticed by everyone else, but the cockiness makes you flustered and causes you to roll your eyes at the same time. 

The rest of the inning flies by with a pop-up to right field that’s easily caught by Steve’s teammate, and another strikeout pitched by Steve — one that the batter watches go by. You’d cheered again, even louder than before, and blew him a kiss as he ran off the field. 

Now you’re waiting for him, not so patiently, on the bleachers. You usually have to wait a bit while the team debriefs, and while you don’t mind most of the time, you’re feeling antsy today. You want him in more ways than one, and you don’t know how much longer you can wait. Thankfully, due to a good game and short debrief, it’s not too long until the players start filtering off of the field. Steve is always one of the last ones out, but you stand up in search of him anyway. 

“Harrington!” you shout Steve’s name as he exits the dugout, waving a hand in the air as you bounce on the balls of your feet excitedly. 

Hearing the sound of your voice, Steve’s head whips in your direction, and the biggest smile you’ve ever seen is on his face. He gives you a wave before turning back to the teammate he’d walked out with, saying something you can’t make out as he slaps his back and then makes a beeline for you. After the game, his uniform is awry; jersey half tucked in, hat on backwards, and he’s so sweaty, but somehow, you don’t mind. His bat bag is slung over his shoulder, but it’s quickly dumped on the ground as he approaches you in favor of scooping you up into his arms, “Baby!”

You let out a shriek and throw your arms around his neck as he lifts you off of the ground. Your toes are barely an inch from the grass, but it’s enough to have you clutching onto him. He’s still sweaty, having just come off the field, but you don’t mind. “Steve! You did so good, baby!”

Steve sets you back on your feet, pressing a wet kiss to your forehead with another blinding grin, “Thanks, honey. All for you.” His hands are still looped around your waist, resting gently against the small of your back. “Heard you cheering the entire game.”

“Yeah?” you ask, returning his grin as your fingers trace along the neckline of his jersey. “Good. Matt’s girlfriend kept giving me dirty looks for cheering so loud, but I think she’s just jealous her boyfriend isn’t as hot or talented as mine. I’ve got an all-star. The MVP.”

Dark pink colors Steve’s face from his neck all the way up to the tips of his ears, even though he’s still smiling at you, “Stop it. I’m not—“

“Don’t even start!” you quickly cut him off, placing a finger against his lips, “If I remember correctly, it was you who pitched a bunch of strikeouts, and held them off in the last inning. I’m so proud of you.” 

He wants to argue, but you’re staring at him full of pride, so he gives in. His cheeks are still flushed pink as he smiles at you, pursing his lips to kiss the finger still pressed to his lips, “Thanks, baby. Love you so much. Couldn’t do it without you.”

You know that’s not true — you show up to all of his games, and sometimes you pack him extra snacks and water, but that’s about it. He’s the one who puts in all of the hard work during practice, at games, and during all of the other time he uses to improve. You are really proud of him, in every single way, and you want to let him know. Threading your fingers into the damp hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, you lean up on your toes to whisper in his ear, “I think the MVP deserves a prize. What do you think, handsome?”

Steve’s eyes grow wide, hands spreading over your hips to keep your body flush to his. He stumbles over his words when he finally speaks, “Shit, baby, I-I… yeah, okay.”

Leaning up on your toes, you give Steve a grin before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “Should we go?”

“Oh, definitely,” Steve nods quickly, leaning into you for a kiss. He kisses you with just enough force that you bend at the waist slightly, giggling against his lips as you grasp at his shoulders. 

“Okay, okay. Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you push at him gently, though you’re grinning when he pulls back. 

He lets out a soft huff, eyes narrowing playfully at you as he grabs his bat bag and hoists it up over his shoulder again. He’s quick to start the trek back to his car, turning to face you as he walks backward with a cheeky grin on his face. His arms are held out to his sides as he calls, “You comin’ with me or what, babe?”

Not wanting him to get too far ahead, you jog to catch up to him, slipping your hand into his as your shoulders bump, “You don’t even know what the prize is, Stevie.”

Scoffing, Steve turns to you with a smug and knowing smile on his lips, “Oh, I know what it is.” Still, he’s gentle with you, giving your hand a soft squeeze and throwing a ridiculously exaggerated wink your way to make you smile. He dumps his gear into the trunk of his car, letting it close with a loud thud as he turns to you, arms caging your body against the side of his car. His breath is hot on your neck as he dips down so his lips ghost over the skin just below your ear, “The prize… it’s not actually a physical prize, right?”

You can’t help it — you let out a laugh, head tilting back as you wrap your arms around Steve’s neck to draw him in closer, “Depends on what you mean by physical…” 

“Baby,” Steve groans with a laugh, taking advantage of your exposed skin by pressing wet kisses up the side of your neck and along your jaw. You want to reply with another sarcastic remark, but your breath hitches as his teeth graze your skin. So, instead, you cup his jaw in your hands and pull his mouth to yours for a kiss. 

-

The sun is starting to smolder low in the sky, nearly sinking beneath the horizon to cast the sky in pretty oranges and pinks as Steve finally pulls out of the parking lot and heads for your shared apartment. His hand reaches over the center console to rest on your thigh, a warm, heavy weight on your bare skin. He’s already been causing trouble, with the way he’d kissed you against the car, and you have a feeling you’re not going to make it home in a timely manner. 

Music is playing on the radio, something top 40 that Steve is humming under his breath as he drives. You’re having a hard time figuring out what the song is with the way his fingertips press into the softness of your inner thigh and brush up ever so slightly. Sucking in a breath, you glance in his direction, only to find that aside from the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly, he’s keeping any indication of what he’s thinking off of his face. 

He looks so pretty in the golden light streaming in through the windows that it’s almost hard to believe he’s real. Reaching out across the gap between you, you tuck a few strands of his messy hair behind his ear and then drag the pad of your thumb across his jaw. You trace over a few of the cute moles scattered over his face and wish you could kiss each and every single one of them, but he’s a bit too far away. Letting out a dramatic sigh, you let a lock of his hair slip from your fingers back into its place. 

At the forlorn sound, Steve’s eyes flick from the road over to you as he laughs under his breath. He twists just a little bit further to press a kiss to the delicate skin on the inside of your wrist, and though he’s pretty sure he knows the answer, he asks, “What, sweetheart?”

“I think I might combust if I can’t kiss you or touch you within the next minute.” 

Steve lets out a laugh, breath hitching as your own hand drops from his hair to his thigh, “We’re like ten minutes from home, honey.” He’s trying his best to stay casual, but he’s feeling about the same as you, especially with your hand on him now. 

“Can’t wait ten minutes, baby. Want you now. Don’t you want your prize?”

“Jesus christ,” he huffs out quickly, hazarding a glance to the hand on his thigh that’s creeping upwards before scanning the road, “Alright, okay, baby, just— just let me pull over. Fuck.”

There aren’t many perks to living in the middle of nowhere Indiana, but if you have to pick one, being able to pull over pretty much anywhere you want to fuck your boyfriend in the front seat of his car is definitely up there. It takes a moment before Steve spots a secluded area and pulls off of the road, dirt and gravel crunching under the tires as he rolls to a stop. The second his car is in park, you unbuckle your seatbelt and nearly launch yourself over the center console into Steve’s lap. 

He laughs in surprise, but it’s cut off by your mouth on his, kissing him like it might be your last chance. There’s not much room in the front seat, and you huff as your knees press into the console and the door on either side of his lap, the skirt of the dress you’re wearing riding up your thighs. It’s not exactly comfortable, but you quickly become too distracted by Steve — his lips pressed to your neck in a bruising kiss, his hardening cock underneath you — to care. And the way he’s gripping your hips to pull you closer isn’t helping. 

Your hips roll forward as you press closer to him, drawing stuttering breaths from both of you. It feels like his hands are everywhere, sliding up your exposed thighs to your waist, warm even through the fabric of your dress, before traveling further up your body to cup your breasts. You’d had to forgo a bra in this dress, and Steve isn't oblivious to this fact; he’d noticed right away, and was going to take advantage of that. 

Wet kisses press to your collarbone as he dips lower, fingers sliding under the thin straps of your dress to tug them off your shoulders, “Looked so pretty in the stands today, baby. Y’always do, but this pretty little dress…” He all but groans, pulling the top of your dress down your chest. More kisses trail along your exposed flesh, the dull scrape of his teeth followed by another hickey pulls a gasp from you. 

With his mouth on you, he’s making it real hard to form a coherent sentence, “Christ, Steve— we can’t— don’t have time for—“ 

A sharp tug to the hair at the nape of his neck finally gets his attention, and he pops back up with a huff, narrowing his eyes playfully at you, “Sorry. Sorry. Not my fault you’ve got perfect tits, honey.” He squeezes your breasts as if to make a point, not quite roughly, but not gently either, thumbs brushing over your nipples. 

“Steve,” you admonish playfully with a roll of your eyes, slapping at his chest. You giggle, though, leaning forward to kiss him again. Your fingers work at the buttons on his jersey as you kiss. It’s not really a necessity, but you want to feel his warm, golden skin and the hair on his chest, kiss the moles that are littered on his torso. Your fingers trail down his chest, and you can feel it heave at your light touches, a stuttering breath as you inch closer to his pants. 

After unbuttoning his pants and pulling down the zipper, the two of you shuffle around in the front seat to get his pants and underwear down enough to free his cock. Your hand wraps around the base, a gentle touch as you stroke up his length. Precum leaks from the tip, messy on your hand as your thumb rubs over his slit. Steve hisses at the touch, hips trying to push up into your hand, “Shit, honey—“

“Feel good?” you ask, a bit smug as you twist your wrist mid-stroke. 

“So good. Need— ah— wanna touch you, too, babe. Lemme…” Steve trails off and one hand presses into the small of your back, reaching down behind you with the other one to pull the lever on the seat. The seat slides all the way back to give you more room, but it moves quickly, leaving you scrambling to hold onto Steve and his jersey. He laughs at your surprised expression, hands moving to settle on your thighs, “That’s better. More room.”

His palms slide up the lengths of your thighs, thumbs brushing against the innermost part until they slip under your flowy dress and bump into the fabric of your underwear. One finger slips just underneath the lacy trim at the edge, running back and forth lightly, “Can I?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, nodding quickly as Steve’s fingers press into the wet spot forming on your panties. “Please, baby.” 

He rubs your clit softly through your underwear once, twice, and just before you’re about to complain, his fingers hook into the fabric and tug it to the side, tracing up your slit, “Already so wet for me, huh?” 

“You– fuck– you look so hot in your uniform, baby, ‘s not my fault,” you huff, shifting your hips to try to get him right where you want him. 

Steve’s fingers dip back down, circling your entrance in a teasing touch before two ease into your cunt. He’s slow with it, almost infuriatingly so, as he spreads you open. You gasp into the crook of his neck, only just remembering that this is supposed to be about him, and resume the slow stroke of your hand on his cock. The air is filled with soft breaths as you touch each other, Steve’s breath warm against your skin, and it’s all you can hear, even though the radio is still playing quietly. 

When his fingers curl inside of you, pressing into the perfect spot, you whine, “Want you inside of me, Stevie. Need you.”

“Yeah?” he asks with a grin, bringing his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. He hums around his fingers, pulling them from his lips with a small pop sound, “Taste so good, honey.” 

Pleasure twists low in your tummy at the sight of his fingers in his mouth, at his dirty words, and you whimper. You can’t wait much longer, so you don’t, shifting up onto your knees the best you can in the tight space without bumping into the roof of Steve’s car. One of your hands slides over Steve’s shoulder, keeping yourself steady as you slip the other hand between your bodies to line Steve up with your entrance. 

Warm hands rest at your hips, fingers splaying out wide to hold you as you sink down onto Steve’s cock slowly. You both moan softly, your thighs shaking as you lower yourself until he’s fully inside of you. There’s always an aching stretch, and it takes a moment for you to adjust, gasping into the crook of Steve’s neck, “Shit, Stevie, you– you’re so big, fuck.” 

Steve laughs, a breathless sound, hands flexing against your skin as he fights the urge to thrust his hips up, “Y’sure know how to sweet talk.” 

“Shut up,” you huff playfully, curling your fingers into the fabric of his jersey as you rock your hips forward once. Steve lets out his own strangled, gasping noise at the sudden movement and you grin, feeling smug. 

You lift yourself back up slightly, a sweet, slow drag of his cock through your tight cunt, and then rock back down, grinding into him. Steve swears under his breath, hands moving from your hips to your ass to help you fuck yourself on his cock. It takes a moment, but you settle into a rhythm with Steve’s help, circling your hips against his, back and forth, up and down. Your thighs start to burn from the effort, but it’s worth it for the dazed look Steve has on his face. 

“Christ, babe,” he mutters, squeezing your ass as he presses wet kisses across your chest, “ridin’ me like a champ. So good for me.”

You clench around him at his praise, moaning in a way that should be embarrassing, but you’re too far gone to care. Your fingers travel up from the collar of his jersey to his hair, curling into the strands at the nape of his neck under his cap, and you surge forward to kiss him. It’s messy, your lips sliding against his in an open-mouthed kiss. 

It’s so hot in the car that between the warm summer air and the warmth radiating from your bodies, the windows of the car start to fog up. If anyone were to see the car, they’d know exactly what was happening, but thankfully, there’s likely no one around for miles. Sweat beads at Steve’s hairline as he begins to thrust his hips up to meet yours, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your ass hard enough that it might leave bruises. You falter as his hips smack yours with a filthy sound, pushing your face into Steve’s warm shoulder as you moan, “Steve, fuck— ’m close— oh god, I need—”

“I got you, baby,” he mumbles into your skin, his breath fanning across your shoulder, making you shiver. One strong arm hooks around your waist while his other hand finds its way between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with the thrust of his hips. He’s babbling, praises for you spilling from his pretty, pink lips, “Look so pretty on my cock, baby, takin’ me so well, yeah? Fuck, I love you so much, you’re perfect. So fuckin’ tight for me, y’close, huh? Gonna cum for me?” 

You can feel the way he twitches as you clench around his cock, your thighs tight against his hips, entire body tensing as pleasure washes over you. Your chest pushes into his as you tip over the edge, slick skin against slick skin, “Oh god, fuckfuckfuck.” 

The thrust of Steve’s hips up into yours grows sloppy, but he doesn’t let up, thumb swiping over your clit as you ride out your high. He’s not far behind you, groaning your name into the crook of your neck as he cums hard. You have enough of a mind to continue to rock your hips against his until he’s spent, breathing hard. 

His hand on your back pushes under your sundress, stroking up the curve of your spine gently, a soft and intimate touch. It’s silent as you both try to catch your breath, trading soft kisses on damp skin and parted lips. 

You speak first, a small laugh as you push your sticky chest off of Steve’s, “Holy shit, it’s hot in here.”

“Yeah it is,” he says with a cheeky grin, giving your ass a rough squeeze as his gaze dips down to your breasts. He leans forward, pressing another soft kiss to the swell of your breast, just above the nipple, making you shiver. He all but giggles at your reaction and leans back into his seat, with a heaving breath, “Fuck, it is hot, though. Lemme open the windows.” 

Reaching over with one hand, Steve opens the driver-side window, letting in the cool evening air. It feels nice on your warm skin, and you close your eyes, turning your face into the breeze. You can feel his eyes on you, and when you look back at him, he’s still staring at you, eyes a soft honey color in the last of the sunlight. 

“I love you,” you say, quietly, almost shy. 

“I love you, more, honey,” he replies easily, a grin breaking out on his face.

You kiss him one last time before pushing up off of his lap, wincing as he slips out of you. Shuffling backwards, you pull your underwear back into place, and tug the top of your dress back up your chest, adjusting the straps. Steve helps you back over the console into the passenger seat before fixing his own clothes. You’re still flushed, so you quickly roll your own window down and stick your arm out. Your fingers flutter in the breeze as Steve pulls back into the main road, turning the volume of the radio up. 

Steve’s hand reaches out towards you, settling on your thigh once again, though maybe a bit more innocently this time. You rest your hand over his, your fingers curling between his as you tease, “Hope you enjoyed your prize, MVP.”

He laughs, head tipping back against his seat, hand squeezing your thigh gently, “Shit, babe, after that, I think you deserve the MVP title.” 

-

a few other tags hehe

@underoossss @sattlersquarry

[cozzzynook]

After Optimus has Hot Rod. He's a very fussy sparkling. He's always crying and has a hard time sleeping and eating. He also has a spark condition which is hard on him.

Optimus is exhausted and is struggling to bond with Hot Rod. He's also dealing with the war and one day Hot Rod won't stop crying and he lashes out. He yells at him and pinches him.

Realizing what he has done he takes a step back. He decides to give Hot Rod to Ratchet and Drift to raise because Hot Rod seemed happy with him. He'd stop crying when they held him and would sleep whenever they watched him. They both knew how to take care of his medical problems. Ratchet better than him.

I..*sobs*

*claps* this is perfect angst.

I have no notes. No words.

*sobs* my heart 😭

Optimus is forever going to suffer under the guilt of what he’s done to his sparkling.

Ratchet is so disappointed in him and I’d like to change it a little and say Drift is still Deadlock when they get Hot rod who is the sweetest sparkling they’ve ever seen. He plays so well with their own sparkling First Aide and Hot rod only gets fussy with them like he did with Optimus when he was in pain.

It kills Optimus to know his sparkling was in pain and he didn’t even notice. He thought his sparkling was just bad. He didn’t realize he was hurting.

Deadlock is so protective of both bitties he truly forgets Hot rod didn’t come from Ratchets valve like First Aide did and he gets angry when bots bring it up until he remembers. And then he just says Optimus has no claim to their sparkling not caring how it hurts Optimus until Ratchet tells him Optimus probably had post carriers down spiral.

Deadlocks stops saying it then and doesn’t make anymore hurtful comments to Optimus and apologizes but Optimus feels he doesn’t deserve it because deep down he didn’t want Hot rod and he thought it was karma.

Taking it a step further.

Hot rod knows optimus is his carrier and has the memories from being a bitty.

He’s distant from Optimus and hides that he knows and remembers.

The step further is Optimus having bitty bumblebee and just..having so much love for the sparkling that was so adorable and so much easier. Bee had problems too but not as serious as Hot rods spark condition that couldn’t be cured. Bee may always have nutrient and mineral absolving problems but his treatment is so much easier.

And Hot rod seeing his carrier love and raise his little brother with so much love and caring optics that he never gave him…

It fuels him to become a prime so his carrier will finally look at him like he looks at bee.

Hot rod may have a spark condition but he’s incredible in battle and terribly smart and tactile when he isn’t insecure or doubting himself.

Of course he becomes a prime because he’s shot in the spark but this time by Galvatron and he’s reborn as Rodimus prime.

He comes back ready to see his carrier and show he’s worth something now. Worth loving. That he’s not bad anymore if the matrix accepted him.

But then he just….

Stops…

And something in him breaks because he never had to prove a thing to Ratchet and Deadlock now Drift.

He never had to prove a thing to First Aide his brother or Bee he who came to know and never showed ill will towards. He was jealous for a while but one look at the bitty and he just..felt the need to protect him like he did First Aide and how First Aide excelled in spark conditions to protect him.

Bee was smarter than he let on and admitted he figured out they were brothers in private and asked Rodimus, at the time Hot rod, if they could be brothers outside of blood and Hot rod agreed so easily.

Remembering all these things, how Ratchet never once looked at him different from First Aide or how Deadlock now Drift has always said he has two sparklings and acted like it…

He turns and goes home.

He knocks on his creators door where he knows First aide is also at and waits..they haven’t seen his new frame, don’t know his new name and haven’t heard whats happened to him.

He hopes they welcome him with open sparks and arms like always and waits…

It feels like hours thats really nano kliks until the door is open and First Aide turns his helm to greet the bot at the door when he stops and pauses.

“Hey banders, I um..Its me..Roddy..I,” he goes to explain that he inherited the matrix, still insecure of not being enough, when the mech buries him in a hug.

He’s shocked but hugs his brother back before the mech is pulling back still holding him and dragging him in the house frantically yelling, “carrier! Sire! Roddy! Its roddy! He’s back!”

The silence that envelopes the home as First Aid drags him into the living den makes his spark stop until he hears heavy pedes hitting the floors and his creators are staring at him with wet optics in the doorway.

“Hot rod..”

He smirks sheepish, spark pulsing from emotion that his medicine counteracts making it painless as he stands there blushing, crying, smiling.

“Its um..its um..its Rodimus now..Rodimus prime..,” he bumbles, caught completely off guard when Ratchet and Drift envelope him and First Aid in a frame breaking hug as they splatters tears onto their frames.

“My bitty, you’re okay,” Drift cries ever the secret not so secret emotional sire like always. His carrier scanning him internally not at all trying to hide it as he keeps him close.

“You idiot, you went and got yourself shot in the very thing we drilled into you to protect,” his carrier sobbed, kissing his helm over and over again. Not missing a beat doing the same to First aid who buries his helm in Roddy’s neck cable.

Rodimus can’t, he can’t help but ugly sob…

“I’m sorry..i’m sorry…but I came back..I came back like I promised,” he wails, gripping them tight the best he could.

He feels the injection to keep his spark from overstimulating in his side and knows his sire did it.

Drift always carried his medicines just like his brothers, yes bee too the sweet little slagger, and carrier did.

“I’m sorry i got shot carrier,” it feels so good to say that to the mech who deserves to hear it. To the mech he owes everything to but would have nothing better than his family safe.

“Don’t forget your sire brat, I almost went out to get you,” Drift laughed making him beam.

For a klik Drift and Ratchet saw the sparklings they used to carry in their arms who held servos because it made them feel safe and he cried for a new reason.

“Don’t..don’t leave again okay, roddy?”

“I won’t banders, I won’t,” he kissed First aids helm and the two held servos like when they were sparklings.

“I’m on paperwork and med duty, I won’t be going back out unless another war breaks out and we all know no bots want that.”

Roddy stays home that night and he’s happy to see Bee the next day and reunite with his little brother and lift him even further off the ground.

Now he can be even more of a menace to his little brother, Bee grumbles but doesn’t move away from how close he stands to Roddy, like always, and he joins his brother to see First aid at the new oil shop that just opened.

First aid is blushing like mad as Ambulon flirts with him and Bee flutters his door wings at the sight of Starscream waiting for them. Drift and Ratchet sit at a table with a few of their friends and Roddy joins his brothers and their future conjunxs. He teases them through the comms about conjunxing ceremonies and they throw forks at him making him laugh.

He isn’t laughing so much when he sees Optimus enter the outdoor shop but he hides it and pays the mech little mind.

Things are going well so long as he ignored the way Optimus kisses Bee’s helm and sits with the others after greeting everyone in a friendly way.

The mech doesn’t notice he’s his sparkling right away and Roddy shakes his helmet at his creators and goes back to chatting.

He’s having a good time when he feels a digit tap his shoulder plating after noticing bots have gone silent. He feels a warmth behind him that makes him turn a little. He waves at Magnus and Megatron who sit side by side with the older bots before looking up and feeling his spark be stolen once again.

“H..hey sound,” he stood, smiling at the mech who tipped his helm in what he knew to be a smile.

“Greetings: Hot rod. Happiness: at seeing you well and recovered. Frame: beautiful star.”

The words made his intake dry and his medicine injected into his spark to stabilize it. He turned his optics blushing as a smile took over his face plate.

“Umm..do ya wanna join us? I missed..I mean..it’d be really cool if you joined us,” he vented a little off and he felt his carrier and brother shift closer only for Soundwave to pull out a medical mesh adhesive he had Shockwave design.

He gently lowered Rodimus back into his seat and placed the adhesive on his neck cable just as he did when they were in and out of battle off world.

“Pleasure: would be soundwaves to join.”

The mech politely nodded at everyone and specifically Ratchet, Drift, First aid and Bee before sitting beside Rodimus who couldn’t stop his spoiler from fanning in subtle court ship display.

Starscream smiled behind his cup of oil before saying something that had Bee elbowing him and grouching at the mech making conversation flow and the attention leave them.

Mostly.

He felt his creators watching him and Soundwave and knew they would be grilling him and doing a thorough vetting on Soundwave like they did Ambulon and he looked flustered glancing at them.

They gave him the look and he knew he was cooked.

Rodimus. A grown mech. And still about to be grounded by his creators.

“Hot rod creators: loving. Soundwave: happy to know Hot rod has love he deserves.”

That made Rodimus smile like a love sick puppy in a romance novel until he remembered.

“Oh, my designation..umm..its Rodimus now,” he looked nervous at Soundwave, since they’ve gotten closer he can better read the mech. So he was looking for anger or disappointment at this next part, “Rodimus prime,” he spoke the last part quietly. Unsure of how Soundwave felt.

There was silence until Soundwave suddenly slipped his tentacles on Rodimus and felt his frame.

“I’m okay Sound, all my injuries are healed up,” he giggled, actually giggled like he was some school bot.

“Previous actions: forbidden from repeating,” Soundwave’s deep voice made him smile and he nodded along as Soundwave still checked him over.

He had nothing to worry over. Soundwave would be his friend through anything.

“I’m on paperwork and medic duty now. I’m not doing anymore fighting any time soon,” Roddy assured, seeing his creators give an approving hum. A step in the right direction of a long road.

He was glad.

Though Soundwave resting his tentacle around his waist was not accepted and Drift came over removing it and Rodimus burst out laughing when Soundwave started egging his sire on harmlessly.

The mech was such a troll.

He loved it.

He didn’t notice Optimus horrified look at not immediately recognizing his own sparkling nor did he notice Optimus lower his helm in shame.

Optimus wasn’t at fault for not being able to initially connect with his sparkling after emergence but he was at fault for not bridging the gap and leaving it broken.

[thegoldencontracts]

May I request Ace, Deuce, and Riddle taking care of a Ramshackle Prefect reader who’s come down with the flu or something? (I hope requesting multiple characters at once is okay…)

Of course, multiple characters is okay! Thank you so much for requesting!

Sick Days

You're sick. Lovely. But at least your fellow schoolmates are there to make this a bit less awful.

Notes: Sickfic, my beloved, small fics for each character, reader has no pronouns, reader's face isn't mentioned to turn red, no size/hair type giveaways, etc, please tell me if I've added a description that makes the reader difficult to relate to!

You woke up feeling like absolute garbage. You felt hot and cold at the same time, your head hurt, and you were so, so dizzy.

There was a paw on your face. Grim.

"Myah, human, took you long enough!" he said. "Class already started, but the Great Grim stayed behind just for you!"

It took a second for his words to register.

What? Class already started? You're late, this is gonna be terrible, you're late, and-

"You're burnin' up!" Grim said, which was probably true, now that you thought about it. You didn't really feel like addressing his concerns.

Instead, you gave your own very intelligent input.

"Ugh."

"You should probably stay home, human. Get better, so you can get back to serving the Great Grim faster."

Even when he was concerned, Grim just had to be- well, Grim, didn't he? Whatever. You just wanted to sleep. You'd call in absent later, or whatever.

You went to sleep. Tried to, at least. It was half tossing and turning, a quarter trying to get comfortable in your blankets, an immeasurable amount of time sneezing and sniffling - Grim managed to get you a tissue box with his paws at some point and maybe one percent actual resting.

After what, according to the clock was a few hours worth of suffering, you heard a knock on your bedroom.

"Who is it?"

Ace Trappola

"Vil Schoenheit, duh." You were not letting Ace diss you while you were sick. Not a chance.

"Don't come in."

"Jeez," Ace said, seeming pretty concerned. "You sound awful. I'm coming in."

So kind, Ace. So kind. Truly, that man deserved an award for his raw tact.

The door slammed open, and you could see Ace's smug grin fall for a moment before coming back up.

"You got sick?" He said, giving you a once-over.

Obviously you were sick! What kind of question was that?

"No, I'm actually better than I've ever been," you said. "That's why I didn't come to school. To celebrate my raw level of health."

"Whatever. Can't blame you for that, but you're still and idiot for those thick blankets. You're supposed to lower your body temperature when you're sick; even Deuce knows that."

You weren't going to stand for this slander of your mutual friend - no matter how much those two tried to deny their friendship.

"Take back what you said about-"

"And get some food in your system! I'm getting you some soup."

Before you could even say anything, Ace was gone.

Was he- concerned about you? Actually, yeah, that was probably it. Ace was just built like that.

After a while, he was back, with a bowl of soup and a wet towel in hand.

"Trey, uh, had some soup leftover," he said, pressing the towel to your forehead. Cold. So cold. You wanted it off. "And the towel'll help get your temperature down. Don't take it off."

For all you made fun of Ace, he was actually so street-smart it was scary sometimes, and that included being able to read your thoughts.

"I won't," you said, more like mumbled, because your throat was so sore you'd think someone shoved a bunch of needles down it.

"You sound awful," he said with a snicker. "You need water. I'll go get it for you."

You didn't even mind the fact that he was making fun of you right now, you were just thankful for that sweet, sweet water. Your throat was dryer than the Sahara - which, funnily enough, didn't actually mean anything, since the Sahara didn't exist in Twisted Wonderland and was therefore just gibberish.

Lo and behold, he came back, carrying a thermos filled with water.

"Drink some," he said, holding the bottle up to your lips.

That gave you pause. What was next, him feeding you the soup?

Still, you needed the water, so you drank it without thinking.

It felt so good. Finally, rain in the Sahara!

You didn't have much time to rejoice before Ace held up a spoon of soup to your mouth.

"Say ah," he said, evidently very amused.

"I'm not a little kid, I can feed myself."

Ace just looked at you, unimpressed.

"Your hands're shaking so hard I can see them through the blankets," he said. "You're an idiot if you think your hands can take that soup anywhere but all over your blankets."

He was mean, but he was right. Curse him.

You opened your mouth, and he fed you a spoonful. This was how it went until the bowl was gone.

"You can leave now," you said.

"Nah," Ace replied. "You clearly need help getting better."

He was staying, wasn't he? And there was nothing you could do to change that. Whatever, maybe being babied wouldn't be so bad.

Besides, this was his own way of showing he cared, and it was one you didn't entirely mind. It'd be rude to push him away.

"Fine, fine," you said.

"Good."

And so, with Ace's help, getting better wasn't so bad.

A week later, however, Ace himself got sick. He really should've seen that coming.

"Here, say 'ah'."

"D-Don't feed me, idiot! I'm not a baby, I can do it myself."

How the turns had tabled.

Deuce Spade

"It's me, Deuce."

That was a relief.

"Come in," you said. "It's not locked."

The door opened, and you could make out the blue hair and black mark of none other than Deuce, one of your two friends from Heartslabyul - No matter how much Ace tried to deny he cared.

"You look terrible, Prefect," he said, and you knew he didn't mean to insult you, but it still hurt.

"I know," you said. "What'd you come here for?"

"You didn't come to class, so I was worried," Deuce said. "Now I know why. Anything I can do to make you feel better?"

There was one thing you wanted, more than anything.

"Water," you croaked out. "Please."

Right now, you and water were star-crossed lovers. Maybe Deuce could change that.

"Right away."

Deuce scurried out of the room, and, after a few, agonizing seconds, came back with your beloved water.

"Do you need help drinking?" he asked.

For a second, you thought that question was offensive. You could get it yourself. Then. you tried to reach for the bottle, and realized that his question was a very good one.

"Yep," you said, because your trembling hand were not bringing that bottle up to your mouth. The task just seemed daunting.

He put the bottle up to your mouth, and you drank up. Finally, your throat was parched. Relief.

"Anything else you need?" Deuce asked.

Although you didn't feel particularly nauseous right now, you weren't going to risk it with a meal. Right now, you just wanted someone to accompany you through your misery.

"Just stay with me," you asked. "You don't have to, I mean, I know you probably have a bunch of things to do, but-"

"No," Deuce said. "I'll stay with you. You're my friend, a-and, I want to do anything I can to make you feel any better."

He looked away.

"S-Sorry, I know how stupid that sounds," he said. You were going to correct his inaccurate statement.

"Deuce."

"Y-Yeah?"

"I'm pretty sure that's the nicest thing anyone's said to me."

"Thanks." Deuce scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Anyways, do you wanna know what stuff in class we learned so it's easier for you to catch up?"

You smiled.

"I would love that."

Deuce made that sick day so much better. Somehow, he didn't even get sick. You honestly envied that good immune system. It was good that he didn't suffer for trying to help you, though.

Riddle Rosehearts

"Prefect, I was informed that you were absent from class today. Do you have an explanation?"

"I'm sick," you said, miffed. Riddle was actually great to be around, but god, you didn't have the patience for getting lectured right now.

Silence. More silence. Sheepish scurrying.

After a while, you hear another knock.

"Prefect, it's me," Riddle said. "I would like to apologize for my discourteous behavior prior."

The door opened, and there was Riddle, carrying a bunch of stuff.

"Aagh," was your highly intelligent greeting.

Riddle walked up to you, getting out a towel. He cast a water spell on it.

"You look quite disheveled," he said, putting the now wet towel on your forehead. "I really do feel terrible about the way I addressed you earlier. Trey had some soup leftover, would you like some?"

You nodded. You wanted something warm right now, especially with the cold cloth on your head.

"I'll get it for you, then."

From his bag, he took out a canteen, a spoon, and a napkin. He was really well-prepared, wasn't he? That really wasn't a shock. This was Riddle, after all, top student and ultimate over-preparer - actually, maybe Azul or Jamil took the latter role. Nothing could beat seeing Azul's backup-backup plans for the serious affair of buying cheese from Sam's.

Riddle handed you the soup, waving his magic-pen.

Your hand weren't trembling anymore. Weird.

"That was me," Riddle said, noticing your confusion. "The spell will temporarily let you eat in comfort."

"Thanks," you said, taking a sip of the soup. It tasted so good to your empty stomach. The nausea'd worn off some time ago, and now you were left with the burning feeling of hunger. You scarfed down that soup in no time, leaving Riddle with a concerned look.

"Are you not worried about vomiting?" he said.

You shook your head.

"I don't feel nauseous," you said. "Not now, at least."

That seemed to be a good enough answer for Riddle, who nodded.

"Is there anything else you'd like?"

"Can you help me catch up on the stuff I missed?"

"Of course," Riddle said, summoning a massive notebook. You gulped.

This was going to be a long day, wasn't it? Oh, well, at least it wouldn't be as bad as it would've been without Riddle.

Only three days after helping you get better, Riddle also got sick. You felt so bad, he was a stickler for attendance and now he was missing school because of you! You had to help him.

"I'm so, so sorry, Riddle, I swear!"

"You- achoo! H-Have nothing to- to be sorry for, Prefect."