#i don’t have much that i urgently need to do (finally) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zentraex · 9 months ago

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Summary: You made a lot mistakes in your new job, but do you regret them? Nope, not a bit. But who can blame you for it? If you wouldn't have done them, you never would have met this pretty boy.

Remember: German Grammar is a lot different then English grammar. I apologize for any mistakes.

Pairing: Francis Mosses (doppelganger) x gn! Reader

(A/N): I usually write for mha, but this men dominates my fyp on TikTok and I can't stop grinning like an idiot about all this fanarts. My men is just too attractive for his own good. Nevertheless, Tumblr has too few fanfictions for him, so I had to do it myself. Still, I am not that proud about how it turned out. It certainly sounded better in my head, but I don't care. One shitty fanficion is better than none.

Art by @asteriscks on TikTok

This game is not mine, but Ignacio Alvarado. I also used phrases from the game.

Mistakes? Yes, but no regrets.

It's been a week since you started working for D.D.D as a doorman.

You can remember your first day so well, it could have been yesterday.

Well... probably because your life is constantly at stake.

It started with a mistake that you ended up here. It was completely unexpected since you always made sure, that you sent your rent to the right account.

Surely no one can blame you for a small typo, right?

Well, your landlord, who kept pounding on your door until you woke up, surely did.

"What?" you asked, annoyed, as you opened the door.

"When do you plan to finally pay your bill? The date has already been overdue for two weeks!" he complains.

What?

"Sorry, but I've already transferred my money to you."

"Well, I didn't get anything. Do you still have the receipt for the transfer?"

"No..."

You already knew what that meant: double payment.

"Look, today, I'll transfer it to your account again, okay? If it doesn't work this time, it's not my fault."

You were about to close the door, but your landlord had other plans when he held the door open with his foot.

"No no no. You will give me the money now. I don’t trust you. Why would you transfer it to me today, when it should have happened two weeks ago. You will give it to me now."

Your eyes widened.

Now?

"But I don't have that much money in my hand? Who's got that?"

"Then I'll have to kick you out for now. But don't worry, no one is going to buy an apartment here anytime soon, so you can move right back in as soon as you give me the money."

Staring stunned at his smiling face you could have sworn you were about to hit him.

"The keys?"

With watery eyes, you grabbed your keys, placed them in his outstretched hand, and frowned.

What kind of person had such sharp fingernails as he does?

You were sure that he could definitely have stabbed someone with them.

Thank God, I didn't hit him.

"When do you plan to give me the money? I've heard that all banks closed today. Some kind of holiday among them, I've heard."

What!?

How were you going to get through the day today? You intentionally left everything in your apartment since you were so sure that you could have given the money to your landlord in a matter of minutes.

"You’re telling me this now!?"

"If you had paid, you wouldn’t need to know."

That filthy bastard.

No matter how angry you were at that moment, your panic was overweighting.

What were you going to do now?

Shit.

"Man, I really wouldn't want to be in your situation...", the landlord murmured.

Fuck the nails- This guy deserves a punch.

Just as you raised your fist, he speaks again.

"But maybe we can agree on something.

Then you stopped.

"The D.D.D., which is responsible for the safety of all residents in this area, is looking for doormans. Ours has recently...quitted, which is why we are urgently looking for one. They pay three times the amount of your rent in a week. If you take the job, I can overlook your sloppiness this time."

Three times your rent? In a week? And for what? To sit there and check a few documents. You'd be crazy not to take the offer!

"Okay. I'll do it. Where can I apply?"

"Don't worry, I'll sort it out for you. Tomorrow, you can start”

Looking back, it should have been clear to you that something was wrong. Starting with the sudden his sudden threat, the fingernails and this stupid story about the holiday of the banks.

Maybe it was just because you were too panicked at that moment to think rationally.

But let’s be true here: when are you thinking rationally? If you did, you would certainly have quitted after your first day.

"Welcome and congratulations on your new job."

After watching the short video, a man in the yellow suit came to your window. You are so shocked that you can’t even answer.

I'm going to die today!

After all, you know it yourself: you're too gullible for the job. There's no chance you'll unmask a doppelganger who copies someone well.

“As you could see on the introductory film, your job is to verify the entry of the neighbors of your building. Each day there will be a list of individuals who will request entry to the building. It is possible that there are individuals who request entry and aren’t on the list. In which case you will mark on the checklist that they are not on the list and proceed to question the individual. Also, you must verify that the ID and the entry reqest are correct and have the respective D.D.D. logo. Don’t forget to also check the expiration on the IDs. Remember it’s Febuary 1955."

Your gaze wanders to the note that was stuck to the wall.

Arnold Schmicht F02 – 01

Anastacha Mikaelys F02 – 04

Robertsky Peachman F01 – 02

Steven Rudboys F03 – 03

Mia Stone F03 – 01

Rafttellyn Cappuccin F03 – 04

Admittedly, you don't know any of your neighbors, neither by character nor really by sight. You were never the type to care about your neighbors.

"I wish you good luck."

C’mon Reader, be like Henry…

But better.

The first inhabitant was Mia Stone and you already started to sweat.

"Good evening."

Was she real? Was she a doppelganger?

With shaky hands, you reached for her ID and entry pass, only to find that everything was fine. She was also on today's list and her appearance doesn't show any deviations either, right?

Just to be sure, you looked into the folder that described her appearance:

Long hair

Small round nose

She has freckles

...

Freckles?

Your eyes wandered again to the woman in front of you, who was waiting patiently behind the window.

You narrowed your eyes a little and leaned forward to get a better view of her.

No matter how long you stared at her, you didn't see them, her freckles.

"You look different...", you murmur after a while.

"What's wrong with my appearance? I think everything is fine with my appearance."

Her photo on her ID and Entry Pass both have no freckles.

Perhaps a mistake on the part of the D.D.D.?

You're about to press the green button, but then you see her grinning slightly out of the corner of your eye.

Shit.

She almost had you. You're really not made for this job.

Your hand slammed hard against the red button, causing the siren to blare and the metal window to crash down.

"3312," you murmur to yourself.

"You have contacted the D.D.D.. A group of agents has been sent to your building. Please wait for the cleaning protocol to run."

Cleaning protocol?

What happens to those who were cleaned? They certainly won't be killed, will they?

What if they will?

What if your judgment was wrong?

What if...

Your thoughts were interrupted as the siren fell silent and the metal window went up, only to reveal the yellow man.

"Cleaning protocol completed. You can continue your job."

It took a while until someone finally came again.

This time, your heart was pounding faster. Significantly faster. And this time, you can't even say for sure that it's all out of fear.

Milkman...

You definitely can't deny it: he's probably one of the most attractive men you've ever seen.

You don't even have to look at today's checklist to tell he's not on it – a face like his would have caught your eye right away.

"Francis Mosses, huh?" you murmured to yourself as you looked at his ID. "You're not on today's list."

"I’m not on today’s list because I had to leave due to an emergency."

Long nose

Thin chin

Tired eyes

Short hair

Wears a hat

It all fit. The only thing left now was a call.

Just as you began to spin the wheel of the phone, he said, "You're new here, aren't you? I've never seen you here before."

"Yes, today is my first day."

"Must be hard, huh? I've heard that more and more doppelgangers are appearing and they are becoming more and more error-free. It would be a shame if such a pretty face as yours were to disappear forever."

Your cheeks turn red and suddenly you feel shyer than you actually are.

"B-But your job has to be hard as well. I didn't think that being a milkman would rob you so much sleep."

Francis smiles a little. So little that you almost didn't see it at all.

"It's not. I just stay up for a very long time. If you like, I can bring you some milk sometime. It's refreshing, calms the nerves."

You bite your lip slightly when you have to refrain from a question.

What milk do you mean exactly?

My God, why were you just such a sucker for handsome men?

"I'd be delighted, Francis."

You talked to him for a while and you quickly forgot that you were actually going to call someone.

"I'd like to talk to you more, but I don't want to stop you from your work. I'll see you tomorrow, right, Reader?"

And you quickly forgot that you never told him your name.

You pressed the green button.

"Shh," whispered the voice of Francis next to your ear.

It was your third day, your third time to change shift.

Well, it usually would have been.

Your vision and mouth were blocked by the bloody hands of the doppelganger who claimed to be Francis.

He had killed the doorman, that should have taken over your shift.

You had to admit, that you were more than inconsiderate. After all, you didn't ask for his entry pass, nor the reason why he wasn't on today's list.

"I'll let you go now, yeah? No wrong move, okay?"

He laughed softly as he released his hands from you and turned your chair, so you were facing him.

"We don't want to hurt you, do we, Reader?"

The sentence shouldn't have given you hope, because after all, you were more than sure that you were going to die one way or another.

Maybe you should have shown a little resistance. For your honor, but....

Oh?

He is so close to you that you can practically feel his body heat. Or was it your own? Your face, despite your situation, was burning.

Even though he said he was letting you go, his hands ran over your body and you couldn't deny that it did something to you.

Were you so shameful?

"Actually, I wanted to wait, but I couldn't take it anymore. I've been patient long enough, haven't I? It was so much work for me, to let you get this job."

You didn't know what to say. Honestly, you didn't know if you would even be able to answer him.

His breath touched your throat as he spoke, "I think I deserve this, don't I? What do you say, Reader? Do I deserve my reward?”

If you were going to die anyway, why not enjoy the last few minutes?

Regardless of whether he was a doppelganger, he had lived up to his title as "Mlikman" that night.

"You killed the real Francis Mosses?" you asked the next day.

Francis grins, almost so much so that his real form was threatening to show itself.

"Yes, of course. What would have happened if he had come before me? You would have sent the D.D.D. after me."

Well, he had a point, huh?

No matter how wrong it was, you were glad it didn't come to that.

You didn't know the real Francis Mosses. That's probably why his death was so insignificant to you.

"Have you killed more people?"

"Just more doppelgangers you let through."

Your eyes widened.

You were so sure you caught them all. The false success was the reason why you didn't quit…well, it was one of the reasons.

"How many have I let through?"

Francis just continues to wear his smirk as he gives you a kiss on the forehead.

"Don't rack your pretty head over it, okay?"

You just nod, smiling.

"Are you going to kill others...?

You don't know why you added your next question. Probably because you wanted to feel special.

"Would you kill for me?"

"Hooooonn"

When you turn your gaze to his face, two white pupils stared at you and his grin is inhumanly wide and black.

You don't know if it's joyful or sadistic, but it definitely made you feel special.

Looking back, you made more than a few mistakes.

But honestly?

You don't regret a single one of them. After all, all of them have led to an all-too-familiar knock on your window.

When you look up, he waves, the milkman.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #x reader #x gn reader #x you #x y/n #yandere #milkman #milkman x reader #that's not my neighbor x reader #yandere francis mosses #yandere milkman

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jamminvroomvroom · 10 months ago

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no more mister shy guy.

OP x fem!reader

in which you can’t work out why he just won’t sleep with you

i am neither normal, nor am i hinged! i hope you guys get the vision, i literally wrote this last night possessed by some feral urge bc i just love oscar sm and i’ve been needing to write for him sooo baaad. enjoy! pls lemme know what you think <3

songs to set the vibes: delicate by taylor swift, good looking by suki waterhouse, my kind of woman by max demarco, feeling myself by wolf alice

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, pwp but also there is some plot? overstimulation, crying in a hot way, choking, unprotected sex (L bozo don’t do that!) the most minor moment of angst, fluff

2.8k words

you watch him make coffee, daydreaming, balancing your heavy head on your hand. you study him while your free hand taps against the kitchen counter, nails drumming a random beat. sunlight streams through a gap in the curtains, framing him golden. you don’t think he knows how pretty he is.

oscar is oblivious to the way your mind is ticking behind him, twisting the cap on the carton of oat-milk. you hear the plastic fall onto the counter and your tongue wets your lower lip as he reaches up into the cupboard, his back flexing beneath his shirt as he finds your favourite mug. you realise then how swollen your lip is, snapped out of the trance he had you in, the one that had you biting your lip so hard, completely mindlessly.

he’s bulked up over the winter break, filled out a lot over the course of his rookie season. he’s no longer the scrawny, anxious guy you’d met at your fathers work event a year ago, he’s broader, thicker in your hands, utterly delicious. as much as you like the way he looks, you like his mind a whole lot more. if only you knew what was going on inside it.

oscar is an enigma, quiet, hilariously dry, the kindest man you’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. you’ve been together since the start of the winter break, november, after awkward run ins and plenty of pining since the start of his first season. you’d travel to races with your dad, a mclaren sponsor, and run into the australian, stare at each other and pretend no one noticed. after months of teasing from lando, oscar finally got the kick up the arse that he needed and you’d said yes to dinner before he’d even finished asking the question.

it’s february now, a week til he needs to be in bahrain. the last three months had been serene, spent with a man made of sunshine, and you’re sad to see him go, as if you won’t be in the emirates a mere four days after him. you fear the way you’ll ache for him, having been inseparable since the dinner that started it all.

but then again, it can’t be worse than the way you ache for him now.

“sweetheart?” oscar is waving his hand in front of your face when you realise he’s been calling your name for a good 15 seconds, and you have, in fact, been staring. hm? you jump, staring at him bewildered. he looks amused. “you okay?” he coos, sliding the coffee across the island towards you.

“yeah, sorry, i, um, i just- why won’t you have sex with me?” you blurt, slapping your hand over your mouth as soon as you realise what you’ve just said.

oscar just blinks, mouth forming a little o, the permanent blush he seems to have increasing tenfold. you instantly feel guilty for ambushing him, but you were at the end of your tether. three months of nothing, nada, zilch. every move you made was refuted, ignored as if he was oblivious. you were ravenous for him, he’s so gorgeous! and you didn’t want to pressure him, but you were starting to feel like there was something wrong with you.

you’d wake up in bed with him wrapped around you, grinding against your ass in his sleep, and you’d revel in it, the rare times that he actually seemed to want you like that. you loved him regardless, of course you did, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t need to be… dealt with. urgently.

“i- um- what?” oscar splutters, and the bottom of his mug blinks against the granite.

“is there something wrong with me? am i not pretty enough?” you whisper, shy. “do you just not… like- do you not want to do that?” you ramble.

panic fills his face, and he’s rushing around the island, by your side in an instant. he takes your hands into his, finding your eyes. they’ve grown watery, a mixture of guilt and desperation swirling in them which makes him feel ill.

“baby, no, god no.” he rushes the words out, desperate to convince you that it wasn’t you. “you’re the most beautiful person in the entire world, prettiest girl i ever saw.” he promises. “i’m just… it’s scary.”

“oh, osc.” your face falls, and you want to throw yourself off of the balcony. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to pressure you. if it makes you feel better, i’m scared too. but i love you so much, i just want to feel even closer to you.”

“you didn’t make me feel pressured, i’m just sorry i made you feel unwanted. trust me, i want you like that. drives me insane. but i’ve never had sex before with someone that i love. not the way i love you, anyway. scared that i won’t be good enough for you.” he murmurs.

you’re hung up on the part where you drive him crazy, the part where he loves you like that, and then you remember how vulnerable he’s being, baring his entire soul to you, and you rip yourself from the fantasy.

your hands smooth over his shoulders, until you’re softly fisting a clump of hair at the nape of his neck.

“i love you. insanely. we’ll go slow.” you state. he moulds further against you, and you quickly realise it’s for leverage, because the next thing you know, you’re in his arms. he has his hands hooked under your thighs and he’s kissing you so, so deeply that you’re dizzy. you don’t realise that you’re halfway to his bedroom until he pulls away.

“i don’t wanna go slow anymore.”

oscar places you on your feet at the end of his bed, the large, plush king-sized mattress that is currently calling both of your names. your blouse gets unbuttoned first, his hands shaking in a way that makes you melt, and his lips trail over every inch of bare skin that he uncovers. when it finally falls to the floor, his pupils are blown wide, his hands palming intricate black lace. your jeans are stripped away mercilessly, his hands shaking less now, and you take it as a sign to crawl backwards onto the bed.

he stands there, watching you, apprehensive again. you can see how hard he is, how desperately strained his cock is through the light grey of his sweatpants, and so you switch tactics. your hand grazes your tummy, skimming up your abdomen until you reach a bra strap. you toy with the elastic, holding the kind of eye contact that makes him twitch, tugging it until it hangs loosely off of your shoulder.

“i need you, osc. i trust you.” you utter, soft and enticing. one finger runs under the cup of your bra, flicking over your nipple. he can just about see the hardened bud through the lace of your bra. it’s not enough, though, and every ounce of self control depletes when you whine, “want you inside of me so badly.”

the elastic band snaps and he’s on top of you, rutting between your legs like a man starved. you drag his shirt up and over his shoulder blades, moaning as you feel each and every muscle under your fingertips.

“just wanna make you feel good.” oscar rasps, rolling his hips even harder into your core.

“take these off.” you beg, pulling at the waistband of his joggers. he somehow musters the strength to pry himself off of you, just long enough to discard the uncomfortable material of his sweats, but as soon as he looks down, his plans change.

painted over the crotch of them is a shiny pool of your slick, and when his eyes flit hungrily to your core, he sees where you’ve soaked through your panties. you’re panting when you see the stain, and you just want to get him inside of you, but his priorities have changed. oscar collapses between your legs, head buried, tongue exploring.

he groans, carnal and needy, into the fabric of your underwear, laving his tongue over the lace. your eyes widen as he dives in, licking over the wet patch until he grows frustrated. you hear the tearing of the fabric, feel his big hands pawing at your thighs to spread them as wide as they’ll go. his tongue slides right inside of you and he whines. he fucking whines. the vibration nearly makes you scream. you can’t believe this is your oscar, the same oscar that had quivered with nerves a mere five minutes ago.

“oh my god.” you chant, rolling your hips against his face. you must be all over him by now, what with the way he’s sucking and slurping, obscene sounds of wetness sounding around the room. you’d be blushing a deep red if you weren’t so turned on, shaking against his bedspread which will probably need changing once he’s done with you.

you thought that maybe he was inexperienced and that was the source of his fear, but if he was, you never would have known. he was a natural in between your legs, nipping at your clit to get you even louder for him.

you cum faster than ever, and he’s mumbling something incoherent into your pussy when you do. you’re riding the high, midway through the bliss, when a thick finger slips its way inside of you. oscar realises that he can easily slide another in, and he does. he doesn’t thrust them in and out, he grinds them against your walls, and your mouth falls open as a silent scream forces it’s way out.

you cum a second time, in record time yet again, and he still doesn’t let up. he’s hitting that spot relentlessly with his fingers, keeping your clit between his swollen lips, and you’re begging him. for what, you’re not sure, but you’re whimpering his name like you’re going to die. and what a good way to go this would be.

his eyes meet yours, and he looks unhinged. that’s when you feel it. that all consuming, belly twisting rush.

��oscar!” you try to warn him, but it’s too late, and he knows it. he makes you squirt, because of course he does. the shy guy who was scared that he wouldn’t be able to please you makes you squirt.

he pulls his mouth off of you but keeps his fingers buried deep, eyes fixed on watching the way your pussy convulses.

“holy shit.” you cry. you’re staring down at him like you’ve gone insane. he’s smiling innocently.

“was that good?” he almost sounds shy and you want to kick him.

“are you… are you serious?” you rasp. oscar just shrugs. “get up here.” you reach for him and complies, slotting himself between your legs once more.

oscar resumes the rolls of his hips, and the friction of the grey fabric against your core makes your eyes roll back.

“please, oscar, fuck me.” you whine, his head falling into the crook of your neck. he bites down, leaving behind the sting of his teeth and a faint purple splotch.

“fucking love you.” he slurs, his accent thickening in a way that makes him sound that extra bit fucked out already.

“i love you.” you murmur, forcing his sweats down his legs. his boxers are wet, just like your panties were, and you can’t help but stare. oh, it’s big.

his boxers are peeled down and you can feel yourself throbbing. his cock hangs heavy, red and dripping, painfully hard. you reach for it, looking at him to make sure it’s okay to touch, and he’s rapidly nodding his head. your small hand struggles but you make it work, and his head tips back, exposing his thick neck that you want to suck purple. your hand works over him a few times, and a visible shiver running through his body makes you stop.

“you ready for me?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“please.” you gasp, locking your legs around his waist. “however you want me, ‘m yours.” you breathe.

oscar’s eyes roll back in his head, your words sending his brain blank, and then he’s pushing home, slow and deep.

“fucking hell.” he groans, guttural. you’re so tight, warm, soaking wet. he feels like the biggest idiot in the world for waiting so long for this.

“oh.” you gasp, your eyebrows knitting together. he’s so deep. “so full.” you pant.

“can you take it, sweetheart?” oscar’s lips bump your jaw. “want you to take it.” you nod profusely, desperate to hear him run his mouth even further. your eyes clench shut when you feel him move, just the tiniest bit, readjusting.

“move.” you plead. he’s staring down at you, watching every single micro movement of your face.

oscar pulls out the smallest bit and thrusts back in, nice and slow. the drag drives you feral, the weight of him on top of you makes you weak. you want to stay like this until the end of days.

“good?” he hisses, trying to keep composed. he’s finally inside of you, claiming you as his in the most intimate way of all. he tries not to think about how many times he could have had you begging under him in the last three months.

“so good, so good.” you repeat, pushing your hips up to try and meet his.

“so pretty like this for me. always so, so pretty.” he rambles. he realises that he never quite made it as far as getting your bra off, and he needs to see all of you. the cups are tugged haphazardly down, and oscar stares at your breasts like he’s never seen tits before. you hear him hum, low and greedy, and then you feel the wet drag of his tongue across your nipple.

the animalistic whine that he rips from you makes him thrust harder, upping his pace a bit. he can hear how much wetter you get when he picks up his pace, and he changes up his rhythm, pushing all the way in and dragging out again at lightning speed. your jaw goes slack and your eyes are damp.

“baby, what’s wrong?” oscar slows to a stop, and you want to scream.

“no, no, no, keep going.” you choke out, your throat constricting with a sob. “it’s so good. feel so good.” you sound drunk, all for him, and he loses his mind completely.

he taps into that athletic stamina, fucking into you with a newfound vigour that you didn’t think was humanly possible, and you feel things that you didn’t even know you could feasibly feel. you see stars behind your eyes, his face, and nothing else but bright white. calloused fingers find your clit, and you wonder fleetingly if he’s trying to kill you when he rubs messy shapes into the much too overstimulated bud. his teeth graze your nipple, and everything seems to come together perfectly.

thick tears run hot down your cheeks, only to be licked away by eager tongue. your belly tightens, aflame for him; he’s wound your body up perfectly and you’ve never in your life teetered so dangerously over the edge.

“can feel you, baby. want you to cum, okay? ‘n then i’m gonna fill you up.” oscar grunts. you clamp down on him even tighter, thanking god for oscar’s filthy fucking mouth and birth control, and then everything snaps.

you think you scream, you know that you’re sobbing, and your throat is raw when the wave hits. oscar keeps going, intensifying your pleasure, and when he finally let’s go, it’s the most beautiful fucking thing you’ve ever seen. it’s surreal, the way his neck flexes, eyes clenched tight, brown locks flopping over his sweat damped forehead. and the sounds he makes, god. he’s muttering into your ear, lewd and shameless, and a fifth orgasm nearly takes you under.

“gonna need you everyday like this, tight fucking pussy, all mine. can’t live without this now. fucking perfect.” he’s rambling, burrowing deep into you one last time. you feel his warmth spilling into you, feel his hot breath fanning your face. he licks into your awaiting mouth.

“fuck.” you giggle, breathless.

“good?” he raises an eyebrow, grinning bashfully.

“more than worth the wait.” you whisper, mustering the strength to lift your head just enough so that you can peck his lips. “you better not hold out on me ever again though.” oscar laughs at that and you feel the rumble in your flushed chest.

“you promise?” there’s the shy guy again.

“osc, honey, that was the best. ever. ever. need you to be mr sex god more often.”

“only if you behave for me.” he smirks down at you.

“there he is.” you sigh happily.

when he snakes his way back between your legs, lapping up the mess he’s made, and then some, you wonder just what you’ve unleashed.

whoops? lol

taglist

@thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @charli123456789

(run outta space on my taglist lol, lemme know if u wanna be added or removed)

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tonycries · 10 months ago

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Love Is Blind

Synopsis. Boys who don’t take their glasses off until after they eat you out. Face stuffed desperately between your thighs and nose-deep in your cunt, he knows his glasses are bound to get dirty - but that’s half the fun.

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, cunnilingus, oral sex (female receiving) he’s a bit mean but sexy, glasses kink (??!!?), pet names (angel, baby), swearing.

Word count. 1.2k

A/N. My way of coping with only being able to wear fake glasses.

Art by @_3aem on X.

Boys who don’t take their glasses off until after they eat you out.

His hair was askew, lips stinging, and glasses lopsided from the feral make-out session he’d pulled you into right as he walked in through that damn door. Kissing you as if your lips were the source of life itself.

He knows he’s being rougher than usual. Nails digging neat crescents into your pretty thighs as he bullies your legs apart on the cold kitchen counter. Pushing his glasses back up, he has to bite back a groan at your glistening cunt. Shit, all he did was throw you around a bit and you’re already so wet for him.

You’d been teasing him all morning before work. Wearing that damn short skirt - his favorite - and batting your lashes at him in a way you knew would have you bent over and stuffed full of his cock in seconds.

Fuck whoever invented the work week, he’d rather stay in bed with his pretty girl till the neighbors file a noise complaint again.

Yet, for the way he couldn’t stop thinking about you - fucking his fist pathetically in that dingy work bathroom - you were going to pay tonight.

Almost in a trance, he barely registers the pain as his knees hit the tile desperately, brows furrowed as if in the depths of prayer. Perhaps he was - lustful gaze looking over his frames to flicker indecisively between your half-lidded eyes and kiss-bitten lips, which move to whimper “Hngh- Baby, I need your mouth on me so bad.”

Ah, he really had a goddess splayed out and aching for him.

“Mm, oh really?” he breathes hotly over your quivering pussy, glasses slightly fogging up as he teases himself just as much as you. The slow torture was delicious.

“Yes!.”

A smug smile spreads across his face.

You flinch when the cold plastic of his glasses touches your throbbing clit as his face meets your cunt, tongue flattening against your swollen folds - not yet dipping inside. You gasp at the sensation, the lack of what you crave so badly.

He feels drunk off the pretty mewls escaping your mouth, mind almost hazy enough to go easy on you. Almost.

“Get my glasses dirty and you’ll be making up for it, angel.” he murmurs lowly, voice sending vibrations to your pussy that have it clenching around nothing.

Lewd squelches fill the air as his tongue slides teasingly between your folds in an unhurried rhythm that has your hips bucking for more. “Behave.” he warns, fingers holding your hips so firmly in place that he’s sure he leaves marks.

“B-but…want you inside me. Want to come around your tongue, baby.”

Shit, you were so good at winding him up, knowing everything that makes him tick.

But all he can remember is the little smirk curling around your lips as you bent over in that godforsaken skirt right as he was one step out the door on the way to an urgent meeting.

This time, he wanted to play with you a little more.

He breathes you in so sinfully as his nose catches on your pulsing clit, finally giving you an ounce of the friction you’ve been craving so desperately.

“Hah- Don’t stop.” you beg.

Doing exactly the opposite, he pulls away, your slick forming a pretty gloss all over his bruised lips - dangerously close to where his glasses rested on his nose.

“Oh? Thought you were holding out on me, angel. Where did that go?” he cocks his head, chuckling at your frustrated whines.

“I’m sorry baby. Hngh-” he cuts you off with a long lick dipping into your dripping hole playfully.

“Yeah?” he hums.

“Yes.”

“Won’t make me pop a boner during meetings anymore?” he whispers, lips ghosting a hair’s breadth from where you needed him the most.

“No- please! I’ll be good for you.” you sputter out.

Now, in all his years of loving you, he’s done everything he can so that you never shed a tear when you’re with him. Even going so far as to smother you in kisses to try and make you smile each time the dog dies in those damn sappy movies during date night.

But right now, the impatient tears that cling to your lashes at his actions make his cock twitch, a carnal part of him delighting in your desperation for him.

“Tell me what you want, my angel.”

“Fuck me with your tongue…please.” your whimpers send blood rushing straight to his already painfully hard cock.

The heat of his tongue and the sex in the air as he dives nose-deep into your dripping pussy has condensation building up on his glasses. His tongue attacks your hole ruthlessly, dipping in and out at a pace that has you gripping the counter for support, “Ah! Yes! Keep going, baby.”

His lips make out with your dripping cunt with a lust that eclipses the need for air. A desperation for your essence. Who needs to breathe when he prefers to be smothered by his girl’s pretty pussy.

He moans around your entrance as your juices gush around his tongue, glasses pressing against his face when he pushes his face impossibly closer to your hot core. His eyes roll to the back of his head at your addictive taste. His favorite.

Yelps of his name leave your mouth at each tight circle of his tongue on your clit, only pushing him to suck harder.

He relishes in how messy you are, slick now starting to drip around the corners of his mouth. Absolutely convinced that he’s losing more and more of his grip on reality at each tap! tap! tap! of it hitting the hardwood floor.

His glasses have now completely fogged up, forcing him to continue his abuse on your pussy through pure, feral need. Won’t be long now, he thinks at your breathless moans.

Your juices smearing all over his mouth and nose, he feels you clenching down on him as he ramps up the harsh movements of his mouth. “Jus’ like that. Shit, I’m gonna-” your mewls echo across the room.

You come fast and hard all over his mouth - and his glasses, as he had known you would.

His heavenly sight of your dripping cunt is now blurred by your slick covering the glass, dripping down the side of his frames and onto the kitchen floor. He could barely see a damn thing, but he knows he fucking loves it.

What is it that they say? Love is blind?

He chuckles lowly as you try and catch your breath, legs twitching in sensitivity on the counter.

Slowly removing his glasses, he runs a finger along them, inspecting the mess his girl’s slutty pussy has made. He collects your sweet juices before popping a finger in his mouth - unable to help himself.

He groans at the taste - shit, he should really make you taste yourself later.

In the hazy aftermath of your orgasm, your dazed eyes follow him as he stands to his full height, towering above you.

You see the slight curve of his grin before he deftly slides his glasses onto the bridge of your nose. Legs still spread and feeling the weight of his glasses, you feel so exposed - like you’ve fallen right into his trap.

“Now, now, angel…” he tuts, fingers unbuttoning his tight pants, cock straining for relief.

“What did I say about dirtying my glasses?”

- GOJO, Nanami, Armin, TSUKISHIMA, KUROO, OIKAWA, Kunikida

A/N. Pretend that Kuroo and Armin wear glasses okay. Also apologies if you saw this before, other post was being buggy and I’m still trynna figure stuff out.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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stunie · 6 months ago

Text

“POST HORROR CUDDLES!”

WINDBREAKER BOYS + COMFORTING YOU. ft. hayato suo, sakura haruka, togame jo, & umemiya hajime x f!reader

filled request: “hello hello! may i request bofurin boys and shishtoren boys x scared!reader? reader had been watching too many scary ghost/strange videos and now theyre all shivered up but wont stop watching. what would they do to comfort their sweetheart? please and thank you!!! <333”

sfw / fluff . 1.5K wc. thank u for sending this in :>

HAYATO SUO.

“oh? are you going to follow me everywhere?”

suo's teasing tone doesn’t match the sweet smile he gives you when your hand shyly tugs at the back of his sweater, your frame trailing only about a half step behind his own as you follow him down the hall.

he stops when he’s directly in front of your bathroom, and you suddenly realize that maybe you should have listened to him earlier. your poor tolerance for horror was well known to him— but in your defense, you weren't expecting the stories to be that scary.

there was just no way you could have known.

“..just don't wanna be alone right now,” you mutter, cheeks hot with embarrassment—but you're too scared to care, “and you can fight better than me.”

“i can just wait here if you're fast,” you quickly add, deciding against following him all the way into the bathroom; but rather just wait outside. because if you did, he'd never let you hear the end of it. not that your situation is much different now.

suo hums in agreement.

“you're so cute,” he coos, amusement coloring his voice as he glances back at you. “oh, but be careful.”

he raises a finger to warn you, “a truly skilled serial killer would be able to get to you in the one minute i spend in the bathroom.”

your eyes widen at the information, and he stifles the chuckle that threatens to come out. “oh, but you already knew that, didn't you? don't mind me then.”

the way you gasp and latch onto his arm immediately after he turns to leave is endearing. “wait,” your voice is urgent, “i'm scared now.”

of course you were.

it's only now when you start to realize just how dark your hallway is at nighttime. the purses you have hanging on your doorknobs suddenly look a lot like what a humanoid figure would look like. your eyes dart around you, and a part of you wishes you had never left the comfort of your own bed to follow him here in the first place.

“i was kidding,” his voice cuts through the tension, and he’s smiling in amusement, hand coming to interlace with yours before giving you a reassuring squeeze. “come on, let's go back to bed.”

“you don’t need to pee?” you ask, arms latching around his as you follow his steps closely.

“don’t worry about that.”

SAKURA HARUKA.

“stop—don't touch me!”

your hands instinctively fly up to shield your face as the bedroom door swings open with a bang, the doorknob slipping from his grasp and crashing loudly against the wall. there's a grumbled curse that follows, and through the gaps in your fingers, you spot your boyfriend standing frozen in the doorway, utterly bewildered.

“h-huh?”

he's holding a bag of bubble waffles, his other hand trying to balance both boba drinks without dropping them onto the floor. “sorry,” he grumbles, “my hands were full.”

that's right— he did head out earlier to pick up your boba order for you. it was only a few minutes after he left when you started putting on scary stories to pass the time. something you shouldn't have done while you were alone, you realize.

“oh...” you let out a relieved sigh, your shoulders relaxing. “it's just you. you scared me.”

he raises a brow in confusion before his gaze finally shifts to the fortress of pillows around you, cocooning your figure with what looks to be his very own hoodie pulled all the way over your head. your lips tug into a knowing smile when he breaks out into a furious blush at the sight. “perfect timing. you're gonna protect me now, right? baby?” you tease, emphasizing the nickname that never fails to make his cheeks flush.

“f-from what?” he's stammering, making his way towards your bed to set down the snacks onto your nightstand with stiff and awkward movements.

“and why are you calling me…” his eyebrows furrow deeply, “t-that?”

you look cute in his clothes, and you look cuter hidden underneath all those pillows. seeing you like this makes him want to pull you flush against him, hold you close and make you feel protected— but he would never say that aloud. he would absolutely never be able to get the words out if he tried.

there's a choked noise of surprise when you lean over your mattress, arms enveloping his frame in a cheerful embrace.

“what, you don't like being called baby?”

the red deepens into a deep shade of scarlet at the name.

he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to work up the courage and admit that he does like it. he’s liked every single pet name you've ever called him (which was probably all of them by this point). he just hates the way they take away his ability to speak.

his arm extends towards you in one rough motion, the ice in your drink sloshing around as he tears his gaze from you, glaring at your wall instead as he waits for the heat in his ears to die down.

“j-just drink this already.”

TOGAME JO.

you don't understand how your boyfriend is able to lounge so comfortably in complete darkness.

he's seemingly unfazed by the horror unfolding on the screen in front of him. and you, on the other hand, are sitting wide-eyed directly beside him, your heart racing with each scene that plays. you have to remind yourself that the shadows moving around you are just your imagination, and that the eerie creaks in the wooden floors are definitely not because of footsteps.

“togame,” you pull on his sleeve with urgency as soon as you notice eyelids starting to droop, your boyfriend dipping in and out of sleep. “togame.”

“hmm?” he hums out lowly, eyes still shut as his hand rubs circles on your lower back to calm your nerves.

it was something he's always done when the two of you took naps together. he likes to trace up and down your back, drawing little shapes and circles on the skin with his fingertip as he listens to your voice.

“please don't fall asleep,” you plead, “i can't watch this all by myself.”

there's a little grunt that escapes his lips when he stirs, shifting a bit before propping himself up on an elbow to look at you. the movie wasn't scary to him, but clearly that wasn't the case with you, because you're peering up at him through teary lashes, lips jutting out in a pout as you plead with him to stay up.

it makes his heart flutter.

“come here,” he finally says, pulling the bottom of his sweatshirt up for you to crawl underneath. you’re staring at him for only a brief moment before you're immediately slipping underneath the fabric, nestling yourself against his chest and letting his warmth envelope you. a small smile tugs at his lips when he feels you let out a content sigh, hands coming to balance themselves on the strong muscles of his chest.

“better?” he asks, arms coming to lay loosely around your waist.

“mhm,” you sigh, “thank you.”

UMEMIYA HAJIME.

“here, come here.”

umemiya is gentle when he pulls you onto his lap, hands guiding your thighs to straddle his own as he wraps you up in a suffocating hug, smiling when you return the embrace. “all better?”

you give him a small nod.

“good, because you're stuck with me now,” he grins, strong arms flexing when they tighten their hold around your frame, and he leans back against the wall with a satisfied hum.

“thank you, ume,” you mumble softly, burying your face into his chest. he knows this has always been your favorite way to cuddle with your teddy bear of a boyfriend, and he's the same way. he likes when you latch onto him like a koala, and he likes when you press your ear against his chest to listen to his heartbeat.

he likes having you close like this.

“of course,” his voice comes out as a soothing rumble, and he leans down to press quick kisses to the top of your head before his fingers come to gently massage up and down your neck. “but you know— they aren't real. they won't hurt you.”

you lean into ume a little more, letting out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding. “i know... but it's still scary.”

“that's okay,” he chuckles, “that's why i'm here with you.”

his presence helps you relax a bit, finally loosening your grip around his middle as your breathing steadies a bit. “maybe i'll play something else for you,” he suggests, grunting as he reaches over to grab the remote. “you like the dancing fruit?”

you lift your head to meet his eyes, lips spreading into a little smile. “let’s watch the dancing blueberries today.”

a/n: read choji’s part here!

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ponderingmoonlight · 9 months ago

Note

JJK men doing the bicep trend. Their s/o will tie a pink string on their bicep and once they flex it’ll break off!!!

Doing the ribbon around biceps trend with JJK men

Pairings: Gojo x fem!reader; Nanami x wife!reader; Toji x fem!reader; Sukuna x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,8k

Synopsis: Tying a ribbon around your boo's biceps and watching how they flex it off? Hell yeah.

Notes: not proofread, Sukuna's part is a little short because I wanted to get this out today, I'll have my knee surgery tomorrow so sorry for ignoring your comments and messages, I'll get back to you when life gets a little easier lol, totally love and appreciate your interactions, I hope you have fun with this!

Gojo Satoru

„Come here babe, I need to show ya something real quick.”

You can’t help but yawn, annoyance dripping from every pore. Oh, your boyfriend is definitely too fit for the fact that it’s still dark outside. What time is it? If he woke you over a strange video he saw on TikTok again…

“Can’t this wait like…4 hours longer?”, you try to resist his urgent wish, shielding your tired eyes from the harsh light of the lamp above.

“I might forget until then. Hey, do you have like a band or something lying around in the bathroom?”

A…band? Your eyes dart towards him, nothing but sheer excitement written on his face. What on earth is Satoru up to now?

“My pink dress has a satin band around the waist I guess”, you mutter.

Maybe this is all he wants. Yes, he just grabs the satin band and goes straight back to sleep-

“Thank you babe!”, he shouts over his shoulder while opening your wardrobe with so much enthusiasm that the door almost falls out of it.

You flinch, rubbing your temple in a desperate attempt to keep yourself together. You love your boyfriend with all your heart, appreciate this childish side of him more than anyone else. But not when you have an important mission tomorrow and had maybe 2 hours of sleep…

“This better be something important, Satoru”, you mumble through your fingers, a sigh escaping your lips.

“Okay babe, ready to see something really big?”

“I swear if you slap your d-“

“Look at me!”

His insisting tone forces you to remove your hand from your face. There he stands, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers paired with a tight black shirt.

And a pink ribbon wrapped around his biceps tightly.

“Now watch.”

With one flex of his veiny biceps, the ribbon opens itself, your pink satin band falling to the floor while he looks at you expectant.

“I have one question”, you begin, eyes still resting on his delicious arm.

“Go ahead babe.”

“How on earth did you tie that ribbon yourself?”

He opens his mouth, nothing but pure outrage written on his face.

“Is this really everything you’re thinking about!? I just gifted you my strong arm!”, he barks overdramatically at you.

“You’re the best present ever”, you purr at your fuming boyfriend, gently stroking his arm when he finally gets back into bed.

“But if you wake me over something like that ever again, I’ll murder you.”

Nanami Kento

“Why are you looking at me with those eyes, darling?”

You blush immediately, the day dream of that trend you saw earlier on your beloved husband not leaving your mind. Kento with a bow around his strong arm. Kento flexing his arm in front of you, causing the ribbon to open up.

…Just like your legs.

“You’re daydreaming again.”

You force yourself to look up at him only to find out that he’s already looking at you, soft eyes lightened by a spark of curiosity.

“It’s just…I saw that trend online and it kinda…reminded me of you…”, you mutter, embarrassment crawling up your veins.

You’re acting like a horny teenager over a man you call your husband for several years by now. Kento is the epitome of a gentleman, the most elegant male being walking on this earth. How stupid to even consider wrapping a ribbon around his biceps…

“Don’t be embarrassed, (y/n). Tell me what’s on your mind. What exactly is this trend about?”

He puts the paper he was reading aside and wraps his fingers gently around your chin, slowly but surely making you lose your mind. It should be forbidden for a single man to be this captivating. Should you…Just tell him? Your imagination runs wild, breath getting stuck in your throat by the simple thought of him actually doing this…

“Tying a ribbon around your biceps and opening it by tensing your arm”, you blurt out.

His eyes widen just the slightest. Oh no, does he think you’re weird, desperate, pathetic? You should really stop roaming around social media late at night-

“Why not trying it, then? Even though I don’t think I’m strong enough to untie a ribbon with my muscles.”

Wait…Did he really say yes? You blink over and over to make sure he’s not messing with you until he gets up and grabs a roll of ribbon from your cabinet before cutting off more than enough of the black band. Before you fully realize what just happened he takes off his dark blue shirt, naked skin getting exposed to the dim light of the room.

And your merciless gaze.

“Would you mind helping me out? I can’t tie a bow on my own with just one hand, darling.”

You force your mouth to stay closed, keep your palms from getting sweaty. This is your husband, goddamn.

Your husband, wearing nothing but his work pants. Your husband, holding up a black band, waiting for you to wrap it around his strong arm only because you couldn’t stop imagine him doing a stupid internet trend. Out of instinct, you follow the invitation of his stretched-out hand, fingertips pulsating against his firm muscles while you tie a perfect little bow.

Until he flexes his muscles, forcing the band to untie itself in slow motion. His beefy arm, veins threaten to pop open any given minute. How is it possible for a man to be in this shape when relaxed? Your gaze is fixated on his delicious sight in front of you – so focused that you don’t notice his other hand grabbing your chin before it’s too late.

“It seems like you’re enjoying the view”, he comments softly.

“Just because you are the view, Kento”, you clarify with a small smile, allowing him to drag you into his strong arms.

Toji Fushiguro

“You want me to do what?”

You grab his arm tightly, doe eyes making it hard for none other than Toji Fushiguro to focus. What did you see on the internet again? “Ribbon around bicep”…What the hell?

“I want you to tie a pink ribbon around your bicep and pop it open with your beefy muscles”, you explain briefly.

“Come on babe. Why can’t I just wrap my hand around ya neck instead?”

“Tempting”, you purr, finger gliding over his firm chest delicately slow.

“But you’re the perfect match for that trend. Now sit your ass down and gimme your arm.”

Just before Toji is even able to press his longing lips against yours, you shove him onto the couch and position yourself on top of him, pink ribbon dangling from your fingertips.

“C’mon (y/n)”, he groans, pouting like a little child when you slap the hand that tried to dig into your butt away.

“Hold still. I need to concentrate”, you instruct him.

“Promise we’ll fu-“

“DONE!”, you scream out, the sheer excitement radiating from your voice making him stop mid-sentence.

His eyes follow your gaze, revealing a wonky-looking bow tied around his biceps so firmly that it might burst any minute.

“And now you want me to do what?”, he questions.

It’s hard to keep himself from smiling when you sit in front of him grinning like an idiot. Is that really all it takes? A fucking ribbon wrapped around his biceps? What a strange thing you are.

But still…

You look so breathtakingly gorgeous that he can’t keep up his annoyed façade.

“Flex your muscles babe!”, you instruct him, index finger poking into his biceps.

Fine, he’ll do you the favour. Slowly, he lifts up his arm before popping open the bow with ease, watching the shocked expression on your face.

“That trend was totally made for you, Toji!”, you shriek, your eyes still fixated on his arm.

“Let’s do that again.”

“I know something better.”

All it takes is a swift motion for you to lay underneath him, your hot breath escaping your lips in shock.

“I’m next, babe”, he breathes out.

Bonus: Sukuna

“Why did I even agree to do this…”, the king of curses mumbles while you’re busy tying another ribbon around his arm.

“Hold still, I’m not done yet.”

“You already tied this one three times, (y/n). I’m getting impatient.”

“Oh, I know you don’t. Deep down you enjoy me caressing your arm”, you reply with a cheeky grin, carefully forming another bow around his fourth arm.

Tying a bow around a single arm already sounding inviting, but the stinging fact that your lover has not only two but four arms to offer for this delicious trend…There was no way in hell for you to resist this opportunity.

“Really deep down”, he grumbles.

“I’m done. Now stand still and don’t move until I say so”, you bark at him while taking a few steps back.

“Watch how you talk to me or I’ll-“

“Shut up Sukuna, your threats don’t work for me. Okay, flex your muscles in three, two, one…”

Out of instinct, he lifts up his four arms and pops open every ribbon you tied so laborious these pasts minutes. Damn, he really feels like an idiot, standing in front of you shirtless with pink ribbons falling from his arms. But that look on your face, the way you clap your hands in sheer excitement, that phone…Wait.

“Did you film this, brat?”

You blink a few times, the smile on your face disappearing as fast as it came.

“Maybe I did”, you reply, quickly turning on your heels and sprinting away.

“Delete that right now!”

“I will watch this every time I go to bed!”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299@busyreader17 @4pgletter @okay-it-is-ivy @iluvtoru @starlightanyaaa

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jimblejamblewritings · 8 months ago

Text

love letters and second sons | part 1.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Author's Note: Hello! Yes, I'm here with a wip before finishing my other stuff. The Bridgerton girlies have got me. Congratulations to you all. So before you read this, please read: I Hate Accidents by @i-hate-accidents AND Over The Garden Wall by @homeofthepeculiar AND The Ultimate Deception by @maximoff-pan. These stories are some of my favorites and really inspired this fic.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes),

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Author's Note: To those who have read my other works, you'll notice that the author Mercutio's stories are something special

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

I am pleased to welcome you all to the start of another social season. Of course, people love and look for love all year round but each year the season just seems to invite love to blossom. I hope all of you find the match to your souls. Marriage is a business but can it not have love as well? A business built with love surely must be a business that tries to last. I ask our respectful citizens and subjects of the United Kingdom to make love a part of their search.

I would also like to ask about businesses that do not involve marriage or love. How are you? In the business of health, is everyone safe from all sickness? In the business of finance, does everyone have enough to eat and clothe themselves without falling into poverty? Are businesses afloat even if only by a small margin? How are you? Truly, I want to know. If you would like to write to me, please do so. The royal mailboxes should still be in perfect condition.

Of course, if you have something urgent then I am sorry but you must come to the palace and request an audience. My valets hold all letters for a day or a few out of safety for everyone. But rest assured, I read every letter once received.

I would also like to say that I can feel the winds of the ton calling me to grace their presence and to stop being rude by ignoring them. Naturally, the wind is very rude to say this and then cut through my dress and chill my bones even when it is snowing. But I digress, the wind is right. The time for introduction must be soon. And a lovely time that will be. I cannot wait to meet you all.

Yours truly,

A Not So Young Anymore Youngest Princess Y/N Hanover (Truly, I need a proper surname and not just the name of my father’s house)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

Would you like to know what I have learned yesterday? I know the Americas are still a touchy subject for some but I hope you don’t mind me talking about it, just to share my studies. Philadelphia is the center of American debate. So many great men (and women that have probably gone unnamed but aided their counterparts in their quest of education) have lived and are currently still living there.

Going to America simply for a debate sounds terribly dreadful. But what if we had one here that wasn’t relegated to just the universities. An entire city becoming a center of debate seems incredibly foolish, not to mention disruptive to its current residents, but buildings of debate do not seem like a bad idea.

Even if some feel like they aren’t smart enough, they should participate. Ideas are nurtured by sharing them. May some debates lead to great compromise and understanding and maybe even propositions for laws.

I, for one, debate with my father every day on which science is the most important to teach to young children and which science can wait until university should they like to pursue that path. He believes all of it. I believe that medicinal science is too much for a young mind and they only need to be taught how to mind their health until they can understand better. What do you think? I am delighted to hear your opinions. Maybe mine will be swayed.

Yours Truly,

Youngest Princess Y/N Buckingham (I am trying out new surnames until one I like sticks)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

I apologize if my stance may be radical but nothing in society ever got done if the start wasn’t a little radical. I believe that young women should be properly taught about relations… let me just say it, sex. Not when they are children, no, but when they are about to debut. Consider it. You all know that as a royal, despite being a woman, I have been taught all things. Everyone is aware that I know what sex is. But if I and my sisters were taught sex so that we may be aware of malicious advances and be able to protect our virtue first rather than waiting for our virtues to be saved by someone and risk them being too late, then others should as well. Therefore, I implore all mothers and governesses to teach their young ladies about to debut what sex is. And to fathers who may be without wives, please find any woman to teach your daughters.

I shall return with more radical ideas for a better and more prosperous United Kingdom.

Yours truly,

Youngest Princes Y/N Kew

The printed letters delivered to London, had everyone enthralled in the early morning. Some people that lived close enough to the central town square didn’t bother with the prints and went straight to the wooden pin board there to look at the princess’ handwriting on the original letters. Whenever the Young Princess or the author Mercutio Quick wrote, people stopped and paid attention.

Princess Y/N was the people’s princess. The one who listened to their complaints and wasn’t cheap on her charitable acts. She was so much like her father, Farmer George. Even with his illness he still ran a good country… when he was in charge. So much better than her eldest brother, George IV. Then again, any royal sibling was better than their eldest brother, even if only by a very small percentage. Everyday the public hoped another child would challenge George the Younger. They would rally their support behind them.

They were hoping that any day George IV’s daughter, Charlotte, would have an heir. If she was pregnant then it would be so easy for the public to support her and convince either George IV to step down or convince Parliament to present a motion to King George. They would have a ruler and an heir. Charlotte the Younger would be the easiest transition for George IV to understand.

But neither her father nor husband seemed to care about the lack of heir. But the thought of succession and coups and duels was forgotten for a moment to read the Young Princess’ letters welcoming them to the new social season with new balls, debutantes, and drama.

In the Bridgerton house, the family ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. They were trying to get ready to present Daphne to the Queen while also trying to read the Young Princess’ letters. Benedict laughed as he slapped his copy of the letters.

“Mother would have a fit if she had to speak with Daphne about sex.”

“I’m surprised she would even suggest such a thing,” Colin said as he returned to reading the first letter, thinking he might actually write to the Young Princess about his familial concerns and wanting to travel desperately but being unsure about leaving them.

Eloise finally smiled as she came downstairs with the rest of her siblings. “I for one think it’s rather refreshing. She is right. Our mamas should be teaching us more than just how to meet the Queen… Daphne! You must make haste! Do you think she heard me?”

Colin rolled his eyes. “She most certainly did. But on the matter of the princess, what is wrong with a woman’s husband teaching her about sex?”

“Everything is wrong with that.”

“Hmm.”

He looked down to reread the paper, wondering if he could understand what the princess actually meant. Even though the letters were left at home, talk of the princess never ceased. How could it? The monarchy’s youngest princess might actually be joining them. Everyone wanted to know what she would look like, not in the face of course. Even her fourth brother didn’t take off his mask until after five months of being introduced to society and he was the shortest time it took to see the royal children’s face.

“Do you think she will be tall like her eldest sister or short? Plump?” Eloise asked as their carriages started their way towards the palace. “I’d imagine I’d be very lovely and plump if I could be stuck in a palace all day with the most wonderful food imaginable. Not that anyone should ever value a woman based on her body but Penelope has stated that her sisters are terribly upset because all the dress makers have started saying that plump is going to be in fashion once again in only a few years time and by the time they become plump it’ll be out of fashion again.”

Daphne looked out the window. “I wonder if she’ll look like the Queen or the King. Oh, what makeup do you think she’ll wear? What mask did she have created for herself? When do you think we’ll actually see her face?”

Violet touched the knees of all her girls. “Whatever she is like, do not be rude and gawk. The poor thing will already have the vultures’ eyes on her all night. If she even comes out tonight. Perhaps it will be at a ball this week. That would be quite a fantastic introduction. I do hope she at least meets us this season.”

Francesca smiled. “I imagine her dance card would be quite full.”

“She’d have bracelets of dance cards going up to her arm,” Daphne agreed.

“But she isn’t coming into society yet. She’s just introducing herself to us,” Eloise said.

“She’s still a princess royal. A very well-known one at that. There’s no way the men would pass on an opportunity to dance with her. They’d want to start making their intentions known now, get ahead of everyone else.”

The boys’ carriage was speaking of a different matter entirely. The princess and Mercutio had written to the ton at the same time. With the presentation to the Queen taking up so much of the day, most people wouldn’t be able to read his work until later that evening. Colin and Benedict simply couldn’t wait. Colin sat with his brother as he drove the carriage and read the story out loud:

“Arsehole,” Cecilia muttered.

Ignoring the sharp stinging of her backside, she hopped off the bed to find something to put on. All she needed to accomplish was getting back to her room, clothed. She knew there must have been some spare clothes in their dressers. It was just a matter of sorting through which garments were hers and which belonged to the others. She had been sorely mistaken to ignore the three members of nobility behind her, thinking they hadn’t heard her.

Lovell scrunched up his face, resembling a rat. “Is receiving another punishment something you really care for? Because this attitude you’ve acquired is going to earn you one.”

“Piss off.”

“Is that any way to talk to your dominants?” Madison asked, adjusting herself in Tommy’s arms.

Cecilia scoffed as she walked towards the door, placing one hand on the doorknob. “Lavender.”

The other three faces fell at the use of that forbidden word. Cecilia’s hand reached up ever so gently and wiped away tears. She wondered if the tears were for her former lovers or for finally realizing her mind was deluded to think she would be with anyone above her station such as Lovell.

“I don’t want this anymore.”

“Cecilia.”

“You never believe that I don’t enjoy breaking our established rules. You only listen to Madison.”

“Cecilia.”

“It is clear you both like her more than you desire me. I am down.”

“Cecilia.”

“You shall see me around this manor, doing my job as I always have. But that is the extent of our relationship.”

“Please, just give u—”

“Good day, Lord Parham. Lord Newall, Lady Wilcher.”

“Riveting,” Colin said as he finished reading. “Mr. Mercutio has done it again.”

Benedict nodded. “Indeed he has. I was a bit worried when he announced that he wanted to dabble in the themes of erotic pleasures in his stories but this was just as enjoyable as all the others.”

“Agree… Oh, it says here that they have earned a publishing deal. The penny stories will still come out once a week, chapter by chapter but readers can also purchase a book if they would like to keep the story properly or are in a rush to read it. I for one will be buying the books.”

“I second that.”

“I wonder what his next story will be about. Actually, no, I wonder what our dear sisters and mothers can be talking about.”

“The princess, no doubt.”

”Do you think any of our brothers will approach?” Eloise asked in the women’s carriage, more to herself than anything.

That made Hyacinth’s face light up. “If one of them marries the princess does that mean we get to be princesses too?”

“As if any of our brothers even could or want to.” Francesca pulled her face away from the window.

“If anyone is going to bring them to the marriage mart,” Daphne started as she fanned herself. “It would be the princess. Anthony would be a good match for her.”

Violet laughed, thinking of the idea. “A viscount and a princess are a perfect match.”

All talk of the princess stopped as they approached. The worst thing that could happen could be a footman overhearing them and mistaking their speech for malicious gossip rather than light-natured and report it to the princess or the queen or even worse, King George himself. They would forever be ostracized from society.

From upstairs, you watched from a window where you knew no one could see you even if they looked up. How you desperately wanted to be down there. All the men were dressed up and looking like penguins. Handsome they were but still penguin-like in silhouette. And the women’s dresses. Some, while upper class, were of a lower social standing and wore older dresses that looked just as gorgeous as the empire and rather shapeless dresses of today.

But today was not your day. You actually weren’t sure when your day would be. Your mother and father let their children choose when they would be introduced to society. Of course you all had to wait for a certain age and it had to be a date at the start of the social season but you could pick the day. And unlike your last sibling, you wanted it to be at a ball instead of the selection of the Diamonds. You didn’t even care which ball it would be. Perhaps it was selfish but you did want a day all to yourself or at least a day with you as the main focus. But that wasn’t this year. Or any year perhaps.

You were excited to finally leave the walls of the palace if you were allowed, having proven yourself capable of not causing an incident. Unfortunately, you couldn’t say you had proven yourself without illness. You weren’t that lucky. You and all your siblings were locked inside until the royal physicians could observe and confirm that you weren’t sick with whatever madness your father had. They didn’t have to observe you. That was also why you picked a ball instead of today. You wanted to prove you didn’t need a chaperone literally holding your elbow. You wanted freedom like your siblings. Freedom to explore that you weren’t sure would get because of your illness.

After a nearly fatal drowning in the lake — an event your siblings still get chewed out for at least once a month — you started showing symptoms like George did. For you it wasn’t about if you would be as sick like your father. It was about how bad and how quickly the illness would get.

You didn’t get to see George as often as the others. The doctors thought you shouldn’t be around him for prolonged periods of time unless it was after an episode. They thought that too much exposure would make you more like him instead of better. They wanted to send him to Kew but you promised that you wouldn’t go to his quarters as long as he got to stay at Buckingham.

Charlotte, silly as it may have been, had hope. They caught your sickness early. Nine was a very young age to almost go mad. Maybe you could be saved from a cruel fate unlike George. They were too late for him but not for you. Of course this only brought jealousy from your siblings who didn’t feel like they got as much affection anymore. Every time you even twitched, it became about you. They could never hate you. It wasn’t like you asked to be sick. But it was hard to be around you. Everyday visits became once a week. Still, you cherished those visits. Like the one yesterday. They expressed their sympathies and hopefulness that you would get to introduce yourself and maybe it could even be this year or maybe this month.

You could have scoffed. After what you did just two days ago, you were unsure. The daylight came into your room before you were prepared for it and you had been convinced that Buckingham was on fire. You couldn’t be calmed down until you jumped into the water fully clothed. Immediately, you pulled yourself out of the trance but no one really cared. The royal physician had been called anyway and you had ruined all chances of attending the presentation to the Queen.

“Your Highness!” a voice disturbed your thoughts and your eyes from looking at your siblings’ carriages leave in the morning. Your lady-in-waiting approached you with a paper, an entire pamphlet. “It’s already spread through the ton like a fire. We haven’t read it yet. We figured new literature would be a treat for you.”

“Thank you, Pandora. Shall we read it in the kitchens this morning when we return home?”

“Not your room?”

“I’m so terribly sick of my room and the washroom and the balcony and the bedroom.”

“You are getting restless.”

“It’s only a matter of time. Maybe even tomorrow it’ll happen. And soon it will only be a couple of years at most before the mask is gone. By the way,” you said as the two started to leave. “Did you hear about the Feather girl that fainted? Is she alright?”

“Oh yes, she’s fine.”

“Good. Have someone send flowers to her tomorrow with an inquiry about her wellbeing after taking such a tumble. Oh and no flowers to the Diamond. I want to meet her myself one day. Now, let’s read about this… Lady Whistledown. She already sounds like an interesting woman.”

Interesting it was indeed. The maids and kitchen staff hung onto your every word as you read the pamphlet. You weren’t exactly sure how you felt about the pamphlet yet but Pandora was right about one thing. It was literature. Lady Whistledown seemed bold enough to list subjects by name. By their entire name as if she wasn’t afraid of any repercussions. You supposed she wouldn’t be since Whistledown was obviously not her real name.

It wasn’t the subject of what she published that bothered you. A lot of it was standard gossip that goes around during the social season but it was her personal opinion. She almost seemed to want the ladies she wrote about to have miserable ends like inquiring about Daphne Bridergton’s flame burning out quickly. The lady must know that what she published could ruin a reputation. Gossip is no longer gossip when publicly written down. It has the potential to become fact.

You slapped the pamphlet against your hand. “Well, I suppose Mercutio Quick from York will no longer be the entertainment of the ton. Sad, and right as I earned a publishing deal too. Perhaps, I should take up a different art. Like making dresses for all my days or learning to play the harp and cello properly so it sounds better than a dying whale according to my brothers.”

The cook shook his head. “Your stories are very entertaining. Even Lady Whistledown couldn’t stop that.”

“Thank you for saying that. I am rather jealous that she is penning under a woman.”

“But you have chosen a name based on your favorite characters, have you not?”

“I have but maybe I should’ve chosen better. This Lady Whistledown might be making more change for women then I hope to accomplish.”

At this, the staff scoffed. Pandora cleaned up your dishes from the kitchen island in front of you.

“Your Highness, with the utmost respect, you are the one who is going to do more for women than this Whistledown. Everybody already wants someone other than your kind brother on the throne. They’re all praying your niece gives them any child so they may protest for her with the added benefit of an heir. They love her and what you write about in your letters make her seem even better. Hell, they love you and they don’t even know you. They listen to you. And with your words, Princess Charlotte the Younger will be on the throne and you will prove women are more than capable of whatever and we might have real change. Is she still on board?”

“Yes. She hates her father as much as anyone else does. George is nice once you get to know him… sort of. But Lettie approves as long as I agree to be in her court. I said yes of course.”

“Then it is settled. Thank God we might actually get change in our wretched lives. Now you must wash up and oversee the Bridgerton gowns before they are sent off. Shall we pick certain ones from your wardrobe?”

“Give the Diamond the one with lace and her family’s colors. Pick whatever you want for the rest of them. Oh and patterns must be on the Feather mother’s dress. I noticed she wears the most ill-favored ornamented dresses but she seems to like them. And put in an order with the modiste, I should like to do this often if this first gesture goes well and the gift wardrobe will need more clothes than it has at present. Clothes for the lower classes as well, nothing that could get them attacked and the clothes stolen off their bodies.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“And, by the way, I already washed up.”

“Yes, but now you’ve been sitting amongst smoke and smells.”

You gave up your fight and nodded as you jumped down from your stool and began the walk to your room. No one was around today. They wouldn’t be for most of the social season as they had other duties, including watching your siblings. Despite your madness, you weren’t the biggest concern at all. It was your rakish brothers in brothels, your sisters constantly leaving their husbands or suitors, and all of them sneaking away. You paused for a moment before walking quicker until you reached your room.

Why couldn’t you sneak out? Now would be the perfect opportunity. And no one was looking for you. It would be so easy to scale the vines up the garden wall and just have fun for a moment. You washed up quickly and put on a very simple dress — one more like the style of today rather than your father’s time. Grabbing a cloak and your mask, you put them down on the bed before sitting down at your writing desk to pen a letter. The slam of the door nearly made you jump out of your skin. You calmed as you realized it was just Pandora.

“Oh, good. It is just you.”

“I have the Bridgerton and Featherington dresses but what do you mean it is just me, Y/N?”

You stood up, abandoning the letter now that someone was around. “I am going out to see the ton.”

“What?”

“It is still dark. I have a map, my cloak, and the mask. And I have a very clear destination with vehicles that will get me back in the most discreet of ways should I need to use them.”

“Your Highness.”

“Pandora. I am nearing my introduction to society. You will all have to let me go at some point. I know everyone cares for my wellbeing but my happiness is gone. I am seen as nothing but my illness. Before I have an episode in public like the king, let me meet the ton. Let me not be Farmer Y/N for a brief moment of my life before I am a farmer forever, before I stay in that garden just like Father.”

Pandora’s mouth shut. She simply locked the door and unlocked the window. “You must return before your midmorning promenade and snack. Since you ate downstairs, I can convince them to overlook your absence of a breakfast request. And don’t take your mask. It’s better if they don’t know who you are at all.”

She gasped as you hugged her.

“Thank you, Pandora! Thank you! You are truly the bestest friend a woman could have.”

“Just go so you can come back quickly and I can have my sanity back.”

You closed the window, shocking Pandora as you pulled a picture frame off the wall to reveal a staircase that led outside. The door was hidden behind the trellis covered in vines and flowers. You pulled the hood over the cloak over you. The last thing you did was check for your bracelet and if your papers were inside. Until you were introduced to society, all the royal children had bracelets that couldn’t come off unless cut off. There were just in case measures with the eldest two but became necessary after so many nights sneaking out. The bracelet wasn’t going anywhere but you didn’t want to lose your birth certificate. It was your first safety measure. Even if you were kidnapped or harmed, you’d be returned to the palace for a pretty penny. You did pull your sleeves down so your bracelet wouldn’t be noticed.

You couldn’t contain your smile at the excitement of being out. London was so different without all the noise. The brothels and pubs were starting to close down for their few hours of rest and relaxation. You stuck to streets where you could see all the action but wouldn’t be easily spotted. No one bothered you until you arrived at your destination.

The footman stood to attention. “May I help you?”

“Yes, hello. I bring a package from Buckingham House for the Bridgertons, courtesy of Princess Y/N.” You handed him a letter with your official stamp at the end of it.

The footman’s eyes went wide as he handed you back the letter and ran inside. The Bridgertons looked up at the frantic knocking, pulling slips over Hyacinth and Daphne before telling the footman he could enter. The Bridgerton boys came upstairs after hearing the heavy pounding of their employee’s footsteps running up the multiple stairs.

“Is there a problem, Marshall?”

He panted before taking in a deep breath. “The Young Princess’ lady-in-waiting is here, bearing gifts.”

“WHAT?!”

The Bridgertons collectively yelled before the scramble happened. You tilted your head when you saw the windows open and a maid shake out some bedsheets. She squeaked when she looked down to see you. You laughed as she ran back inside. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before you were escorted into the house by a very out of breath footman. The Bridgertons stood on the steps at the end of their entrance hall in chronological order with their mother starting the line at the very bottom step. Nervous smiles graced their faces when you finally reached them. You curtsied to which they curtsied or bowed back.

You gave them a second to assess you before speaking. Even though it wasn’t true in the slightest, everyone thought the ladies-in-waiting and manservants were reflections of the royals themselves. Not in character or value but in appearance. They figured they could form some sort of picture as to what the young masked royals looked like. If you were ugly then surely the princess was too. You hoped they at least found you to be average looking in appearance.

Anthony Bridgerton — the new head of house from what you remembered of your studies — stepped from behind his mother to greet you formally. He bowed once again, deeper, before offering up his hand. You settled yours in it to receive a chaste kiss.

“To what do we owe this sudden pleasure, Mrs…”

“Beckett,” you lied, just using Pandora’s last name.

“Mrs. Beckett?” He didn’t recognize the name as one belonging to an upper class member of the ton. He wasn’t sure he recognized the name at all.

“Apologies, I should explain. The princess doesn’t distinguish in her court, we are all there to work. All women are ladies-in-waitings, all men are valets. Regardless of station, regardless of marriage.”

“So, I am to take it that my earlier statement was incorrect.”

You nodded. “Simply Miss Beckett.”

“Well that sounds like very forward thinking actually. All the same, it is our pleasure to meet anyone in her highness’ court.”

Violet smiled as she watched the interaction. If her son was close to anyone in the princess’ court, especially someone that seemed so close to the princess as to be sent here, then he would be able to meet the princess with good graces. He’d be ahead of any man by leagues.

“Princess Y/N has sent me on her behalf. She extends warm greetings to the Bridgertons and the Featheringtons whom I will meet after our encounter. The princess congratulates Miss Daphne Bridgerton for earning Diamond of the Season as well as congratulations to the Dowager Viscountess for raising such a fine woman and to Viscount Bridgerton for chaperoning and keeping the family together therefore allowing his sister to shine.”

He cleared his throat and started to smile. “Please give the princess all of our thanks for the most kind of compliments.”

“And she would like to assure Miss Bridgerton that I have not been sent on behalf of any princes. Her brothers will not be bothering you today.”

They all chuckled when you laughed.

You set the first box down on the table next to you and opened it. “The princess has brought new dresses for the ball. The Diamond and the rest of her family should have the opportunity to shine with the utmost and wholehearted respect and support of the Crown. Please, enjoy them.”

The family ran to the table, picking out dresses and suits and matching them to the person’s name on the paper pinned to each garment. They kept singing praises and admiring the outfits. Violet turned back to you.

“When are you planning on visiting the Featheringtons?”

“In an hour or so, I must be back before the princess’ morning promenade. She has a very busy day afterwards.”

“Will the princess be introducing herself this season?”

“Hyacinth!” Anthony and Violet yelled at the same time.

You laughed. “It is no trouble. I’m at liberty to answer as the princess’ head valet.”

“Valet? I thought you said they were all men. They are usually all men.”

“If the princess should become heir to the throne then she will receive a male valet alongside me. For now, it is just me. The Crown believes someone of the same gender should always be with her should she need to confide in someone about very personal matters.” You took a breath before testing the waters. “Such as affections of the heart.”

It had dawned on you in that moment that you could spy on the ton. When the time came, you would still have to dance with all the bachelors of the United Kingdom but you at least you would have a better picture of them. You’d have to apologize to Pandora for the countless strokes she was about to earn from you but you couldn’t make this your only time sneaking out.

Violet smiled, knowing she was right. “Well, would you like to stay for breakfast?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“It would be no trouble at all. We have more than enough room. Eloise, dear, if Penelope is to come over please request that she do so now.”

(part 2)

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107 @i-have-no-life-charlie @daykrisr999

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton x princess!reader #benedict fluff #bridgerton fluff #fic

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misstycloud · 6 months ago

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Helloo i just wanted to say youre doing god's work with the whole yandere omega x reader thing. You really hit an obscure niche (compared to other omegaverse stuff) and im really happy to see someone writing about this kind of trope! That being said, may i ask for a yandere omega who's married to their alpha reader, and how the omega's yandere tendencies still manifest even though they're already married to the alpha reader? Like maybe they're still a little possessive over their alpha or they still stick close to their alpha no matter what? Thank you so much!

Yandere!omega who is living the dream. They have everything they could ever ask for; a walk-in closet with the hundreds of fine garments, multiple boxes with accessories, a lavish room with windows facing the endless garden, and a generous spouse who spoils them rotten every chance they get.

Yandere!omega who can’t help but revel in the glory and the fact that they have it so good compared to their old bullies. The same people who used so mock them for their looks and pathetic-ness, now writhe in envy. It was a satisfying sight, to say the least.

No longer were they that small and weak nerd forced to eat in the bathroom during lunch. That was in the past. It seems that the hard work had payed off and they can finally experience happiness.

Yandere!omega who, despite knowing you’d never betray them, can’t help be feel anxious whenever others gawk at you when you’re out. You’ll be walking down the street and people would turn around to look at you. You’ll sit at a table in a fancy restaurant and all they’d be able to focus on is how the serves gossip about you. Everyone wants you, it seems. Although, it’s not very surprising considering your appearance and status.

Yandere!omega who, deep down, is still insecure. What is they’re not enough? They know that to most- if not all-think that you’re way above them. Still, they managed to capture your heart and have their love reciprocated. Somehow you love them out of everybody. It’s got to count for something. But what if you see pieces of the old them and you decide everything’s over? It can’t happen. They can’t live without you!

Yandere!omega who in turn gives all those people a foul glare. There is no way they can have you. You belong to someone already; them. And they’ll never give you up. Not even if it was by your own will. Didn’t you promise on your wedding day, you’re theirs and they are yours forever? Oh, you can’t just break promises.

Yandere!omega who complains of how your secretary is bullying them and refusing on letting them into the building to bring your lunch(your secretary married themselves). They cry to you that your family is still not accepting of them and want you to break up, so you need to make choices. They tell you that your friends are bad influences and will get you in trouble one day.

Yandere!omega who hates when you spend long hours in the office. Won’t you spend more time with them? Don’t they matter, or is the paperwork more urgent? Wow, they must be soooo important to you then.

Yandere!omega who screams that you obviously don’t love them anymore. Why would you work overtime nearly every day if you weren’t avoiding them like the plague?

“I gave you my heart, soul and body the day we wed. Is it so hard for you to do the same?”

#oc #yandere oc #obsessed #possesive #misstycloud oc #toxic #yandere #yandere x reader #Yandere husband #alpha reader #yandere omega #omega yandere #yandere omega x alpha reader #yandere omega x reader #yandere boyfriend #omega x alpha reader #yandere omegaverse #yandere spouse x reader #yandere omega spouse

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taegimood · 4 months ago

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Can we get sub!soobin getting jealous and possessive after you flirt with some guy in front of him

SQUEEEEE i was just telling berrie that i feel guilty for writing soobin too much but this one’s not my fault 🤓☝🏼 THE PEOPLE ASK AND I DELIVER 🗣️

edit: ……i got a little…..…. carried away 😶

ok soobin being such a little SLFNSKFJF he’s so pouty and defensive please

you would never intentionally hurt his feelings, but let’s say he’s been pushing it lately with the stubbornness. borderline brat behavior with how he talks back and whines over the littlest things, trying his luck with the pouty cold shoulder treatment that of course gets him nowhere (which then only makes him more of a baby about it).

at first, you can’t for the life of you understand what’s making him act this way lately; where did your sweet puppy-like soobin go ??? alexa play good boy gone bad

it’s not until he begrudgingly picks you up from work one day that you realize: oh…

he’s jealous.

you hadn’t thought anything of it when your new coworker joined your team a couple weeks ago, nor when he came face to face with your unsuspecting boyfriend who was picking you up from work that day.

sure, this new guy was very friendly, and eager to help where he could as you trained him for the new position, but you didn’t see it as anything more than that — while soobin, apparently, did.

you can see him now from across the room as everything clicks for you.

he’s sitting at the table by the entrance of your café, waiting as you take the last few minutes of your shift to go over a new latte recipe with said coworker, and you can tell from the furrow in his brows and how tightly his lips are pressed together that he is not happy with the current proximity between you and this other man.

like i said before.. you would never intentionally hurt soobin’s feelings. but when you laugh a little too hard at a joke your coworker just told and give his shoulder a light punch in response…

well, your introvert boyfriend is certainly not one for confrontation with a stranger, so needless to say you’re shocked as he immediately stands and stalks right up to the two of you with no hesitation.

“baby?-“

“don’t you think you’re a bit too close to her?”

you gape at him. he’s staring directly down at your coworker, who he towers over now that he’s right in front of him, and the other man’s eyes widen at the sudden shift in atmosphere.

“u-uh, well-“

“your shift’s over, let’s go home.” soobin mutters to you then, not looking at either of you now as he takes you by the hand without another word and pulls you out the door of the café.

you’re scolding him in the car the whole drive home, telling him how he can’t just do things like that, how he can’t just start randomly being rude to people and that this is so unlike him, how he’s been acting out so badly lately and he seriously needs to put this attitude to rest —

but soobin is silent the entire time. looking straight ahead, jaw clenched, leg bouncing in his seat.

your eyes flit over to him in concern.

he’s still silent as you both get out of the car, as you go up the elevator to your apartment, as you finally enter the keycode and step inside — and that’s when it all comes out.

you gasp as you’re suddenly pressed to the wall, his lips urgently meeting yours and his hands gripping you as close as they possibly can; you’re so shocked at the sudden display of dominance that you don’t react at first, until he whimpers against your lips, a silent, desperate plea for you to return his fervor.

and so you do.

soobin has you thrown onto the mattress before you know it, clothes ripped off, his body pressed right up against yours, his lips and his tongue and his hands overwhelming you all at once.

“s-soobin-“

“you’re mine. you’re fucking mine.”

you gasp as he bites down on the part of your neck where he was just sucking marks into a moment ago; a dam seems to have broken as he starts babbling now, and finally you understand the reason behind all of his recent behavior.

“hate the way he looks at you… hate the way he follows you around like a lost fucking dog.”

you moan wantonly as his throbbing cock suddenly enters you in one thrust.

“no one else can make you feel as good as i can. no one else can be as good for you as me. you know that, right? right? f-fuck-“

you’re practically drooling as he fucks you hard, his quick, deep strokes overstimulating as his voice breaks and you can tell just how desperate he actually is for your reassurance right now.

“s-soobin- f-fuck, i can’t even think s-straight-“

“i’m your good boy, right?? n-no one else? i always make you feel good? p-please say it..”

his hips are stuttering as he loses his cool, barely able to maintain a steady rhythm as he buries himself over and over again in your dripping cunt, face pressed into the crook of your neck as he desperately tries to make you cum — whether for you or for himself, or both, you aren’t sure.

“b-baby- fuck, baby, of course you do- so fucking good for me, always so fucking good.. my good boy.. fuck, just like that, soobin-!”

you’re fighting to maintain the control of yourself that you know he needs you to have, but it’s so difficult as he pounds your pussy so good that you swear you’re seeing other galaxies.

your words have him whimpering, breaths coming out in short little moans as he clutches you impossibly tighter, begging to hear more —

you gasp at the sudden feeling of his hot cum shooting into you, and a broken cry escapes his lips, pleasure mixed with frustration as he doesn’t stop, his body trembling from sheer overstimulation as he chases down your orgasm.

“b-binnie-! binnie, slow d-“

“w-wanted you to c-cum first, m’sorry, m’sorry, fuck-!“

you feel as if the wind is knocked out of you before you even get the chance to respond, because suddenly his hot tongue is laving roughly over your nipples and his fingers have moved down to draw rapid circles around your clit;

his hips slam into yours, making filthy wet sounds as his cum gushes from your entrance, his teeth marking up your tits, his whines and moans pornographic as you cum hard around his aching cock and his own second load fills your pussy to the brim.

you have to lock your trembling legs tightly around his waist to get him to stop thrusting; you’re both breathing raggedly as his hips finally still and he goes slack on top of you.

he lets out an exhausted little whimper at the feeling of your still-twitching pussy. he doesn’t show any signs of pulling out, and you don’t even know if has the energy to do it himself;

“binnie,” you whisper, reaching up to card your fingers gently through his damp hair.

“mmh…”

“baby, look at me.”

slowly he lifts his head from its hiding place in the crook of your neck.

“you know… normally i’d punish the hell out of you for how bratty you’ve been… but i think i’ll let it slide just this once,” you joke softly.

his lips are already forming into a pout but you’re quick to add; “you don’t ever, ever have to feel threatened by anyone else. you’re absolutely perfect for me, bunny.”

poor sensitive soobin, bro… 🤧 he’s had such an overwhelming day of different emotions that he quickly tears up at your words, sniffling and mumbling explanations and apologies and so many i love you’s as you cuddle him to your chest, cooing over your sweet silly boy and making sure he knows that he’s the only one for you <333

he still gets grumpy when your coworker’s around — but that man will be staying far, far away now. (soobin’s stank face is sure to clear any place out for miles)

#ask mj ♡#mj’s hard thoughts #txt #txt x reader #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #txt thoughts #sub!txt #txt angst #soobin #soobin x reader #soobin hard thoughts #soobin smut #soobin thoughts #sub!soobin #soobin angst #taegimood #nonnie!

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pankowblues · 4 months ago

Text

Road Mishaps

not proofread

summary- drew comforts you during your pregnancy

warnings - throwing up, motion sickness, pregnancy

You and drew just had an interview and you were 6 months pregnant with a baby boy. You guys announced that you guys were dating ever since photos of you guys got leaked on the internet.

“Okay, where do you want to go? Home?” Drew says as he buckles his seatbelt

“Yea sure I want to get this dress off me” you say tugging on my dress a bit

He smiles “And what’s wrong with the dress huh baby?” He says teasingly while driving

“It’s sooo uncomfortable”

He chuckles, he can tell that you’re craving something comfortable over anything else right now “If you feel so uncomfortable then why did you wear the dress in the first place?”

“Too look good duhh” you say like it’s obvious

He grins, he glances over at you while driving “Babe, you don’t need to try and look good. You look good no matter what you have on, you know that”

That’s when you start to feel yourself getting nauseous from the baby and motion sickness and you feel the urge to throw up “hey drew”

He hears the sound of your voice and can tell that the tone has changed, he quickly glances at you to see your facial expression to see you looking uncomfortable “Yeah babe?”

“pull over hurry up”

He sees the urgent plea in your voice and he immediately pulls the car to the side of the road and stops the car. He turns and faces you “What’s wrong babe?”

You open the car door and put your head outside ready to throw up “This his baby is making me feel nauseous again”

He quickly unbuckles his seat and gets out of the car to go around to your side. He rubs your back gently as you put your head out of the door, ready to puke.

You make a few gagging noises but still not throwing up, tears well in your eyes from frustration cause you want to throw up but it won’t come out.

He kneels down on the side of the car next to you and keeps rubbing circles on your back gently as he watches you get frustrated at the fact that you can’t throw up.

“drew I can’t” You say as a few tears fall down your face

He feels bad when he sees the tears fall down your face, he gently rubs your back trying to comfort you as much as he can “Just try to breath babe. Take deep breaths. Try to relax”

You breath and take a few breaths and you finally relax waiting and that’s when you push his legs backwards as you throw up so you don’t get anything on him

He watches as you finally throw up and he’s glad, at least this way you can start feeling better, he’s so focused on making sure you’re okay that he fails to realize that you pushed his legs out of the way to avoid getting puke on him.

“Omg drew ew I got it on you”

He finally looks down and realizes that you did in fact get puke on him, although you were trying your best not to “Nah it’s okay, it’s not a biggie babe”

“What do you mean?! That’s disgusting. I’m so sorry”

He continues rubbing your back, unbothered by the fact that puke is on his pants “Babe, it’s not like it’s the first time it has happened. We’ve been through a lot, you throwing up on me isn’t new”

You grab some paper towels from the glove box and clean his blue pants trying to get most of it off.

He laughs, he finds it sweet that you are trying to clean his pants off when you’re the pregnant one who just threw up on the side of a random road* “Babe, it’s seriously fine”

“I just don’t want you driving home with my puke on your pants*

He smiles, amused by your determination to clean up the mess that you made “I’m fine babe, I can handle driving with my pants stained with your vomit”

That night you both went home with pants with puke on them and a happy stomach. You wouldn’t stop apologizing the entire night but drew finally shut you up with a kiss.

tag list: @0xstarzx0, @wearemadeofstardust0, @rafecameroncoke

#rafe cameron #obx #outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe imagine #drew starkey #drew fic #drew starkey fic #drew x reader #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey drabble #drew starkey blurb #rafe blurb #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron blurb #drew starkey fluff #dad!drew

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sonarspace · 7 months ago

Text

deception, nanami

content: mdni. angst. soft sex. breeding kink (? kinda) wc: 1.1k a/n: trying to get out of my writing slump but it’s bad! so here’s this…

𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞

nanami’s laying in your arms when he gets a call from ijichi telling him he needs to be at shibuya in an hour. and instantly you’re being filled with dread. “don’t leave,” you tell him as soon as he hangs up the phone.

but he’s already buttoning up his shirt. you huff a frustrated breath and follow him to the bathroom where he fixes his blonde locks.

“don’t go, please” you try again your voice breaking. his eyes meet yours through the mirror. your lips wobble as a tear escapes the corner of your eye. he turns around his eyes creased in worry. “darling, what’s wrong?” his voice’s sweet and soft dripping honey with every word he speaks.

“i’m scared,” you voice your worries into his chest – wetting his blue shirt with your salty tears. he tilts your face to meet his eyes. you’re quietly sobbing now – eyes red and nose turning a shade darker.

“don’t leave me,” your melancholic voice tugs at his heart. he can’t leave them when they need him the most. “i have to, it’s urgent.” he just says in return. it was hurting him to see you like this. be away from you in this state.

“no, ken, please” you drag out the word. his lips match your downturned lips. he hated not doing what you asked of him but this was different. he had people relying on him – the higher ups, his colleagues, the students, the first years…

he drops his head to yours in defeat. his fingers brush away the tears streaking your cheeks. “take me with you,” you request. “you’re pregnant,” he retorts. “so what, i can protect us,” you argue back. your technique similar to gojo’s, allows you to create an invisible barrier. the only difference was, you could include other people.

“i’m not even sure what’s happening there but i don’t wanna risk your safety.” he says placing his hand on your bump. he feels a light kick against his hand and smiles. “it’ll make you use too much cursed energy, there are too many people there,” he adds. “ken,” you’re about to say but you feel another kick – harder this time. as if telling you to listen to him.

he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. a part of him hurts as he lies “i’ll come back”.

“i love you kid,” he whispers as he places a kiss against your stomach. “i love you,” he tells you. holding your face firmly and placing a kiss against your lips — once, twice, and finally a third time. “i’m going to marry you when i get back,” he murmurs against your lips eliciting a teary laugh from your lips.

“promise,” you ask. “promise”. he vows.

but he doesn’t come back that night. or the night after. and you know it was normal for him to take a day or two for missions but the lack of texts and calls has you crying into his pillow. a text chimes from other side of the room. you get up and move quickly — shoko’s name on your screen. you feel like your heart going to jump out of your throat. this can’t be good.

shoko: i’m so sorry.

and you don’t need to read more cause your worst fear has come true. the phone slips out of your hand and hits the floor with a loud clack. you follow as your knees buckle and a weeping “no” erupts your throat.

you gasp for air through your cries. a set of arms pulls you into a hug. “i’m here, i’m here,” he whispers into your hair. “baby, i’m here.” he says again – louder this time. you calm down slightly pulling away from the embrace to see the face of the man you love so dearly.

“kento,” your voice cracks. a hand reaching up to touch his face. was he real? you feel his freshly trimmed hair prick your fingertips as your trace his face freely. his pink lips that kiss you and mark you like a canvas, his slender nose that nudges against yours playfully, & his brown eyes that never failed to take your breath away. “kento,” you say once again.

“yes, baby.” his eyes twinkle with love for you. “are you real,” you ask hazy from sleep. “i’m real,” he lets out a lighthearted chuckle. “you had another nightmare,” he cups your face and wipes away dried tears from your cheeks.

“i’m here. i’m okay. you’re okay. we’re okay.” he confirms. you sigh against his hand. his cold ring presses against your cheek and you’re reminded you’re married — have been married for a year.

you lay your head on his chest and he rubs your back comfortingly. “i was pregnant in my dream and you weren’t there”. he huffs in return. “and that’s why it’s just a dream. i’d never leave you. much less when you’re pregnant.” you smile into his chest.

“i want a baby,” you say. his body rumbles under yours with joyous laughter. “yeah?” he asks with a grin – his thumb under your chin pulling your face up to face him. “yeah,” you kiss him.

he kisses you back. his hand moves down to your neck – rubbing over your quickening pulse. you pull back and let his oversized button up fall off your shoulders. the slightly opened windows lets in a gentle breeze and hugs your body. the night sky is filled with moving pink clouds.

the sound of salty waves from outside, along with nanami’s gasping moan fills your ears as you lower yourself onto him. “ahhh,” your plushy walls are snug around his cock, making it hard for him to form a coherent thought.

before you can move too much, he flips you over. as much as he loved seeing you on top of him, he loved having you underneath him even more. loved seeing the way your eyes rolled back as he thrusts into you. the way your lips parted in moans and whines of his name.

“ken,” you whimper. he drops his head into your neck. kissing and biting at your soft skin. lolling out his tongue to soothe a bite. you wrap your arms around him. your nails dig into his back as he picks up the pace. the coil in your stomach grows tighter and tighter at the way his cock pushes against that sweet spot in you – turning your brain to mush and leaving your sentences incomplete.

your legs shake around his waist as you cum with a loud cry of his name. “you sure you want me to fill you up” he asks as you calm down from your orgasm. “filthy girl,” he teases when you nod with his fingers occupying your mouth. a muffled yes is all he needs to dump ropes and ropes of his seed deep into you. he pulls out his fingers from your mouth and replaces it with his tongue.

“we’re gonna make a baby,” he groans happily into your mouth.

𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞𓇼 ⋆｡〰️⋆｡˚𖦹 ⋆𓆞

a/n: comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated!

#✎ luna.writes #jjk #jjk nanami #kento nanami #nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu nanami #jjk fluff #jjk fic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #nanami fic #nanami fluff #jjk drabbles #nanami drabbles

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casualhedonists · 1 year ago

Text

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter three)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

chapter: 3/? (MASTERLIST)

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, power play, oral sex, thigh riding, degradation, dirty talk, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

taglist: if you’d like to be tagged, leave a comment on the masterlist post and i’ll add you! 💌

a/n: thank you for your patience and condolences / kind messages over the past week i’ve been awol. i’m very happy to be back. very long, filthy and much awaited chapter ahead, so strap in and hope you enjoy the ride.

in the words of miss zegler herself: oh we are so back.

You weren’t sure how long he stared at you, smiling with a fire in his eyes that rivalled yours until it was eclipsed. A third and final time, you found yourself speechless, dumbstruck, and one final time, much like the others, you took a few shaky steps backwards, before turning and fleeing.

He knew. He’d known this whole time. How long had he been planning this? Exactly how much of this had been an act, with Snow puppeteering you as you slowly lost your mind?

You almost felt pity for the girl, because she was played just like you were. She was a mere pawn in his game of chess, where he’d toyed with you until you were backed into a corner, unable to make a move.

Well, not this time. Now you knew what he was playing, you were ready to up your game. This wouldn’t be another stalemate; you wanted to win, and you had a few ideas of where to start.

You were already up and dressed when you heard a knock at your door the next morning.

Dreading the worst – despite the fact that Snow had never actually been in your room before, but the rules had changed now and you weren’t sure quite how much – you paused for a second to prepare yourself, praying that he wouldn’t be there, ready to put a stop to your plans before they’d even started.

You fell lucky. It was one of Snow’s footmen, George.

“Good morning, ma’am. I, um.” He swallowed, not meeting your eye. “I have a message from Master Snow. He’d like for you to meet him for breakfast in a half hour, if you will. He says you have something… quite important to discuss.”

Typical Snow. Never liked to get his hands dirty. Too proud to knock at your door himself.

You considered.

“George, could you please tell Coriolanus that if I’ve already eaten, and that I’ll come to him when I see fit. If he isn’t satisfied,” you added, for his sake, as you knew Snow wasn’t above killing the messenger, “Say I have an urgent matter to tend to, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

You grew a lump in your throat from your refusal, fearing the consequences. But you’d set your plan into motion now and there was no going back. Once George had been sent on his way, you snuck down the stairs on the far end of the building and slipped out the door through the servants’ quarters, where you knew Snow wouldn’t see you leave. The one upside to the last few weeks was that you’d learned how to sneak around the manor unnoticed. You were certain there were at least three hallways he’d had never even set foot in.

You had Lucille call Henry – Snow’s driver – in advance so you could leave right away.

“Where are we going, ma’am?” He glanced at you over his shoulder as you slid into the black town car.

“Head into the city. I’ll explain on the way.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Henry took some convincing – and some light bribing – to finally cave and tell you what and where this gentleman’s club was. Of course, it was a risk, a roll of the dice to go there without concrete proof, but you knew Snow. You knew his little neuroses and hang-ups, and he was paranoid; in all senses, it would seem, except when it came to you. If he’d been frequenting this club for some time – some years, according to Henry – and trusted their discretion, then you highly doubted he’d play Russian roulette and pick somewhere else.

You were dropped off outside, and sent Henry to the tailor to pick up some of Snow’s things; an excuse for the outing, but a part of your plan too. He was hesitant to leave you alone in such a place, but you insisted you knew exactly how to handle yourself, and so he gave in.

You’d deliberately dressed down for what you were about to do, worn your old coat and let your hair down with a hood pulled over it. It being daytime, the place was closed for business, but you knocked on the front door expectantly.

You waited. Went over the plan, and knocked again.

This time, the door opened and a burly man now stood between you and the inside of the brothel. Your curiosity made peek over his shoulder before he cleared his throat.

“Can I help you, miss?”

“Yes. My name is Margaret, sir, I’m a maid at the, uh,” You dropped your voice to a low whisper, “Snow household. I have a message for the owner of this establishment, from my master. Is he here?”

The man cleared his throat and glanced around the nearly empty street, then beckoned you in quickly.

“Anything for Mr Snow, miss. Right this way.”

There was your proof.

The empty club was a classy one, you had to give Snow that. The bar caught your eye, silver panels lining the wall behind it in an otherwise jet-black glossy room, with dark red couches and shiny tables, booths, single chairs, a stage with shiny metal poles, and a few cordoned-off alcoves.

You took it all in, certain you’d be able to appreciate the aesthetics of it more if it wasn’t for the seething rage inside you. You were stopped at a closed door near the back, and the burly man knocked.

“Yeah.” Came a voice from inside.

“All yours. He’ll take care of you.” Your guide stepped away. You pushed at the door.

A dark-haired man sat facing a desk, poring over paperwork. He didn’t look up.

“If you’re here for a job, sweetie, it’s Tuesday after 11.”

This incensed you.

“I’m not here for work. This is official business. I was told you take care of… special clients.”

He spun around, frowning.

“I’m listening.”

“I have a message from President Snow. He has a series of requests to be carried out with no delay.”

“Ah, yes. Mr Snow. I see. And you are to him?” He prompted.

“Just a maid from the household. He sent me as a messenger.”

“Excellent. Well in that case, of course, miss. How can I be of service?”

You took a breath, hoping desperately that he didn’t see right through you.

“Firstly, the shoes your girl wore.”

“What would he like with them?” He asked.

“He’d like to keep them. He’s willing to pay, and he’s not up for a price negotiation. This should cover them.” You slipped a bill across the table, and he nodded. You learned long ago that money causes loose lips, and this man was no exception.

“Of course,” he obliged, “They’re in the lockers through that door there. I’ll bring them to you. We ordered them in specially for Veronica, he made a point for her to wear them on the first floor. Usually our girls get instructions to sneak through clients’ houses quietly, but we handle every request as thoroughly as possible.” He chuckled.

That fucker. He really had planned it all out to get in your head.

“Was there anything else I can do for you, miss?”

You swallowed thickly.

Here goes.

“Yes, actually. As of today, he’ll no longer be needing your services, or her services. He’d like to terminate your contract, and he doesn’t wish to see her again. Ever.”

The owner blinked. His mouth moved, as if he was about to say something, but then it closed again.

“But, um,” he stammered, “It’s only been three weeks. Veronica is our best girl, and he’s her top client. She carried out his orders to the absolute best of her ability, I can assure you. Are you sure those were his words?”

You sighed.

“She’s getting off lucky with a dismissal. Take it as a warning, sir. President Snow doesn’t show mercy to thieves. If she shows her face again, I can guarantee you, he’ll have her head.”

His face turned plum-red with horror.

“She was… stealing?”

In a way, yes.

“She was caught by a maid last night.” You nodded, and the owner swallowed thickly.

“I – I understand, Miss. I am terribly sorry for this. I apologise that our services weren’t up to your master’s expectations, truly. Please, if there’s anything I can do- and I can assure you, I’ll be having some very stern words-”

You cut him off.

“There is one more thing, as a matter of fact."

"Anything." He pleaded.

"You can send word that… Veronica, is it? She’ll be paying him a visit this evening. But you are not, under any circumstances, to send her. Am I understood?”

He furrowed his brows, puzzled. But you stared back challengingly and held your ground.

A small, sheepish smile formed on his face.

“Much obliged. I can assure you your requests will be carried out with the utmost discretion.”

“Thank you.”

He brought you the heels in a shiny box, and you turned and left.

Henry was waiting outside, and you slid back into the car.

“Get what you needed, ma’am?”

“I certainly did.”

The drive home was your chance to pick up lunch, finetune your plan, and go through the suits you’d had Henry pick up from the tailor.

They looked impeccable – crisp and creaseless, the white shirts brighter than the stars, and the maroon red jackets and waistcoats deeper than blood itself. It was one of these jackets that you chose to take upstairs with you, leaving the rest to be taken up to Snow’s room later, hoping the missing item would go unnoticed.

You retraced your way up the winding stairs of the manor. Luckily, Lucille had informed you Snow had left not long after you that morning, and was expected to be gone until evening. Nonetheless, your paranoia made you glance left, right and left again before every turn. Finally, after an exhaustingly long morning, you were back in the safety of your own room.

But the work was far from finished. You ate quickly, then began getting ready for your discussion with Snow. He hadn’t sent for you again; he was too proud. You took pride in knowing he’d be positively seething at your turning him down that morning. You kept going, showering, teasing your hair, adding a little more makeup than usual – not excessive, but enough to make a difference – then finally wandered the room as you picked your wardrobe for later.

You lay out the heels – which were a little big on you, but would serve their purpose – as well as the jacket you’d stolen, taking the time to run your fingers over the smooth maroon velvet you’d felt only briefly before, when brushing against Snow at public events. You then dug through your underwear drawer, debating between a red lingerie set and a white. You picked the latter; the tones of red would blend in with the jacket and white made more of a statement.

Innocence. If only.

You checked the time. Three hours or so until Coriolanus would be expecting Veronica. You hoped that he would be back by then, and more so, that your performance with the brothel owner had been enough to hold him to his promise of sending word. But if you’d learnt anything from Snow, it was that fear commanded respect, and better yet, obedience. So your doubts were few and far between.

In all honesty, that’s what had drawn you to Snow in the first place. It wasn’t about money; your family had money, more than they knew what to do with. It was the power, the fear. Even the richest man in the world would crumble to the ground with a gun to his head. Power trumps wealth every time, and the enigmatic, newly elected President was by far the most powerful man in Panem.

It was its own kind of thrill, pursuing a man like that. The temptation to get him wrapped around your fingers, ravenous, hungry for power, hungry for him. It all blurred together at this point, the man was like a magnet. You wondered if this thirst for more, always more, was an affliction the two of you shared. Or perhaps, an affliction you’d developed a taste for because of him. And the longer you spent at his side, the louder it began to beat in your chest like a second heart. You wanted to consume it, and let it consume you.

It thrummed in your chest now, adrenaline coursing in your veins. You fidgeted as you waited for the hours to pass, your craving growing with each second. You flicked through a few books; you drafted a letter to your mother. Each tick of the clock bringing you closer to finally taking the one thing you’d wanted since the day you met Coriolanus Snow. It was almost time for your big move.

✩✩✩✩

As enough darkness crept into your room and you stood to light some candles, you heard soft footsteps pass your door.

For a change, you recognised them as Snow’s, even and deliberate. He was home. With half an hour to spare until he’d be expecting his whore.

You jumped at the opportunity to change. Slowly and carefully, you slipped out of your clothes and into the underwear set, until you were clad in crisp white lace, with a matching garter belt as a finishing touch. You slid on Snow’s jacket – which smelled like him, of his cologne – the usual fitted shape it would give Snow now hanging loose and slack around your body, falling to the tops of your thighs. You did up the first button, tracing the neckline that plunged down your chest, leaving very little to the imagination. You slipped into the heels, checked the time, and after scanning yourself over in the mirror, made for the door.

The few worries you had about being seen by the staff were short-lived; the hallway lights were dim as you wobbled in the heels, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. You weren’t sure if Snow had fallen for your plan, but what mattered was that as you turned the corner, there were lights shining from under his bedroom door. He was in there, waiting. By now, it was odd seeing it closed. You tried your best to emulate the sound of the footsteps you’d drilled into your brain, the clicks giving you a sense of power knowing Snow – apprehensive or not – would be in for at least one surprise.

Click. Click. Click.

You considered pausing before barging in, but you didn’t. When you reached the end of the hallway, seconds away from your fate, you reached out a hand, pushed Snow’s door open, and walked right inside.

Snow was there; of course he was. Facing his dresser and away from you, he didn’t flinch at the sound of your arrival. You closed the door behind you, and took a step towards him. Stared at his back, scanning his black dress pants and the white shirt he’d rolled up to his elbows, cufflinks on the table, blonde curls a little unruly as he smoothly poured himself a drink.

This, right here, was where the solid part of your plan ended. It was caution to the wind from here on out, and you could practically taste it, high off the adrenaline; off his presence. And he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

This was the moment of truth.

“Well,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “Look who finally figured it out.”

“Not who you were expecting?”

“She’d never reschedule.” he said simply, turning on his heels, eyes glinting at you. “Figured you were up to something. Drink?”

“Think I’ll pass.”

He approached you, eyes scanning your body, deliberately clad in the skimpiest underwear you owned. You figured this was as good a time as any to unbutton the jacket and let it fall open. It brushed your sides, and you watched him lower his glance, hungrily taking you in for what could quite possibly be the very first time. He wet his lips, took another sip.

There it is.

There was that power you craved, that look that you’d been aching to see in his eyes while he stared at you, and although it was fucked up, you let the pride fill your head with confidence, and stepped forward.

“Now, just where did you get that?” A slight narrowing of his eyes gave him away. At least something you’d done had made an impression.

“Borrowed it. In case I get cold.” You smiled.

“Cute. Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to take things that aren’t yours?”

“Oh, I take whatever I want, Snow.”

You raised your head in defiance. Proud of your voice for not faltering once.

“Clearly. Nice shoes. Borrow those, too?”

“Why, do they look familiar?” you quipped.

“I think we both know the answer to that, doll. Now why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

You sighed, feigning exasperation. A chill crept up your legs but you barely noticed.

“You wanted to talk to me, Coriolanus. Talk.”

“Is that really what you came here for, sweetheart? Dressed like that?” He put his drink down on the dresser, not once looking away from you.

“If this is what it takes to get your attention, Snow, then yes.”

You took another step closer, and the jacket fell further to your sides, more skin slipping out from underneath for him to feast his eyes on.

“I think you know plenty about trying to get my attention. I watched you struggle for weeks.”

“Didn’t think you cared.” You muttered.

He laughed, low, more like a scoff.

“What, your childish attempts at seduction? They were pitiful at best. I’d expect that kind of behaviour from a common whore, not a lady of your standing.”

“Thought you liked whores.” You retorted.

“They’re no fun to live with. And there you were, proving my point.”

Your eyes narrowed, and when you spoke, it was through gritted teeth.

“So what, you had to go and fuck one to prove a point? Mature.”

“Mature?” he glowered, then before you could think, he stormed towards you, grabbing both of your wrists with a hard squeeze. You gasped.

“Mature like you, with your short skirts and your fuck-me eyes, sucking your fingers off at the breakfast table?”

You squirmed. Tried to jolt yourself away but it was no use.

“I didn’t think you-”

“Oh, I noticed.” He said, moving in to corner you, grip tightening until he was walking you backwards across the room as he spoke, never once taking his eyes off you. “And it’s a real shame this couldn’t have been easier for us both, but you just had to start it. So I watched your pathetic little displays, day after day, knowing if you’d behaved better, I would’ve given you exactly what you wanted.”

You fought not to trip over yourself until your legs bumped against the ottoman at the foot of his bed and you caught your breath. His eyes bored into yours and you blinked helplessly. His grip loosened on your wrists. You tried to speak, but your mouth had gone dry.

“If you’d been good,” he continued, voice lowering, “you wouldn’t have played around like that. Good girls don’t whore themselves out to respectable men.”

Your eyes narrowed in defiance as you felt heat start to brew in your stomach.

“Respectable?” You spat, and his grip tightened again, bringing one hand up to trace your jaw, almost pitifully.

“See what I mean? You dig yourself deeper at every turn. Good girls ask nicely, and say please. It didn’t take me long to figure out you had issues with authority. It could’ve been so easy for you, sweetheart. You had plenty of chances. You could’ve asked me very nicely to fuck you, but instead you behaved like a desperate slut for weeks on end. Eventually, I knew there was only one way to shut you up.”

Your ears started to ring and you fought harder to gain composure. He’d never talked to you like this before. And now, all this, all at once, it was almost too much. Goosebumps had long covered your arms and legs, despite the heat inside you burning you up. You were vaguely aware of heat pooling uncomfortably between your legs.

Your breathing was heavy as you stared into him, his hand gripping your chin, and you couldn’t hide it if you tried. He finally backed away, letting you peel yourself from the ottoman. His hungry eyes scanned over you, suit jacket now crumpled at the wrists. You swallowed as you tried to pull yourself together.

“You knew I was watching you. The whole time. Every time. It was… for me.”

He watched you knowingly, raised his eyebrows a little. His lips grew into that smirk, that fucking smirk you knew all too well.

“We were playing the same game, sweetheart. I was just… Better.”

“A little excessive, don’t you think?” Your voice faltered and you cursed how breathy it sounded.

“Oh, on the contrary. It was very entertaining to see you struggle, but I could’ve gone further.” He mused. “I even considered fucking her on your bed.”

Shit.

A thought popped into your head, and a strange smile made its way to your face.

“Aren’t you going to ask me where I got these?” You asked, glancing down.

He frowned for a second; good. You’d thrown him off guard. But he caught up fast.

“The heels? You know, I had her walk right past your door in those so you’d follow her and see just what you were missing?”

If you weren’t so wired with adrenaline, you were pretty sure you’d be tearing up with how desperate you felt. But his words channelled it all into pure anger.

“Fuck you.” You seethed, and he smiled.

“We'll get to that. But go on, I’ll bite. What did you do to her?”

“Let’s just say she deserved much worse than what she got. Maybe you should’ve fucked her on my bed. Would’ve given me a reason to choke the life out of her.”

“You think I’d care?”

“Course not. Knowing you, it’d probably get you off.”

“Which brings us right back to now.” He stared at you, challenging. You laughed again.

“Is this you talking? You’re not very good at it.”

“No, this is me giving you a second chance. The way I see it, you made your move, I made mine. Now, if you’re a good girl, and ask me very nicely to fuck you until that pretty little head of yours gets filled with nothing but empty space, I might consider putting an end to this and giving you what you want. Maybe.” If you thought you’d survive smacking that smug look off his face, you would.

“You want me to ask nicely, Coriolanus?” You closed the gap between the two of you and glanced up at him through your lashes. He looked back at you, and no chill in the world could cool you down from the fire in his eyes.

He stepped away, paced towards the desk chair – the one he’d watched you from last night – then dragged it across the floor, spun it around, and took a seat. Once again, last night felt worlds away now. A lifetime sat between that moment and this one as he made himself comfortable, unbuttoned his collar. As if the room was now a stage, and he was the sole spectator.

“Go on. I’m waiting.”

Cocky bastard.

Another airy laugh escaped you. But you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t exactly where you wanted him. So you played into it.

“You want me to beg you? Say pretty please?” Your voice softened as you slowly stepped towards him, holding his gaze. A passing thought reminded you of your childhood, asking your mother what you’d feel when you first truly fell for someone.

Fireworks. Thousands of them, crackling, hissing, charging the air between the two of you into something heavy. Thick clouds of smoke you could almost taste as you stared into darkened eyes. You paused in front of him, fingers playing with the hem of his suit jacket that brushed against your thighs. Caught your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Take it off.” He ordered.

“Gladly.”

You slipped the jacket off your shoulders, and it fell smoothly into a pile on the floor. You kicked off the heels next, landing haphazardly to the side with a thump. His eyes never leaving you, consuming you.

“Like what you see, Snow?”

He took you in, long and hungry and shameless. Like you were simply there for his entertainment, nothing else. You wondered where along the line he’d lost all his inhibitions, at what moment in his very young life he’d decided to simply stop caring. It should scare you, but it just made you burn warmer. Maybe your wires were a little crossed, too, because it didn’t make you feel cheap.

It made you feel powerful.

You knew you looked good, too; you’d made sure of it. But he was looking at you like you were carved out of solid gold. He didn’t answer, because he didn’t need to.

“Think I like you better when you’re not acting like a dumb slut.”

You hummed, determined and unphased, moving in closer until your legs touched his knees. His words shouldn’t turn you on - nor should not knowing exactly how much he meant them – but they did.

“You like me better when I’m begging, then?” You placed your legs either side of his, straddling him, but still standing, and took his hands in yours. You ran one of them across your lips, brazenly taking a digit in your mouth, releasing it with a wet pop, then dropping your head down.

“You want me to be straightforward, Snow? Tell you exactly what I want?” you breathed, your foreheads almost touching, looking down at him from a thrilling vantage point, your hair falling either side of his face. “To beg you to rip this off me?” You guided his hands to your hips, letting them slide over the lacy fabric. “You want me to beg you to kiss every inch of skin you see and make it yours? Beg you to fuck me until I can’t think, and forget my own name?”

You ran his hands down the sides of your legs, then, inch by inch, letting him take a good long look on the way, you finally lowered yourself onto his lap. Your blown-out eyes met again, at the same level this time. You shifted your hips once, feigning getting comfortable, and hid a smile as he let out a strained sound.

You were close enough to feel his breath against yours, fast but steady, controlled. You moved closer, your head dipping cautiously under his chin to kiss his neck. He smelt clean, like fresh laundry and his cologne, and his skin tasted like salt as your tongue traced a line across it. It felt like power, having him like this. Slowly starting to grind your hips as your mouth pressed against his pulse, every shaky breath you elicited from him awakening something new in you.

“Say it, Snow.” You murmured, breath catching. “Tell me you want me to beg you, and be good for you.” Another trail of messy kisses across his jaw, and you finally heard it, ragged and coarse, words shooting through you like knives softened by the heat of his breath on your hair.

“Be a good girl, and fucking beg me.”

You hummed with satisfaction. Moved your lips to his ear, hand cupping the back of his neck, and leaned in close.

“If you wanted me to be good,” you whispered, “then you’ve picked the wrong girl.”

You felt it, his whole body tensing beneath you. But you had it now, the upper hand, and you weren’t giving it away. Your other hand came up to close over his mouth with a warning shake of the head, and you gripped the back of his neck harder with the first. Craned it backwards so he could look at you, a different kind of fire in his eyes. A fire that could burn you far worse than any other. You leaned your weight into him until you were flush, skin pressing into fabric. Tightening your legs around his so he couldn’t kick out. You felt dangerous. You felt alive.

When you spoke, your voice was a vial of vitriol.

“You thought I’d just give into you? Three weeks of torture and you call it even? No fucking way, Snow. You wanted to play? Let’s play.”

You were closer to him now than you’d ever been before, infinitely closer than when you’d held hands in front of an audience, or danced in the middle of a ballroom, or when he’d draw you in for a lingering kiss at the head of a busy table.

You were closer still because of the common denominator: you were alone, your bodies pressed together, soft and firm colliding. And your stomach ached with want, but your rage burned brighter.

When you were sure he wouldn’t move, you readjusted your position on his lap so you were sat on one thigh, your right knee pressed firmly against the chair between his legs. Slowly, you dragged your hips against it, firm muscle between your legs, shameless as you stared him down.

“I’d like to modify the terms of our agreement, as of tonight. Starting with this: I’ve made sure your little whore won’t come running back here. If I so much as hear a whisper of a rumor that you’re fucking someone else, I’m leaving. Don’t think I don’t know how to disappear. I can, and I will.”

He scowled at you, and you’d never felt power like the rush you got from seeing your hand clamped over his mouth. His own hands, now easily able to overpower you and push yours away, instead sat at your hips, digging in so hard you knew there’d be bruises for weeks. As you moved, he started to follow suit, rocking your hips on his thigh faster.

He’s allowing this.

The realisation made you pull your hand from his mouth, and yet he didn’t speak. There was a tightness in his jaw, locked down so hard it must’ve hurt as he watched you move, helped you move. It sent a shock through your core, and you ground down harder.

Who’s on top now?

This was getting to your head.

“President Snow,” you mocked. “What a title. Thinks he can take whatever’s in his sight. Thinks he has the right. Did you think I’d come crawling back to you?” Your voice lowered.

“Did you think I’d get on my knees, like she did?” You glanced down, running your now-free hand over the front of his pants, gentle at first, then pressing in firm, and he hissed.

“Did you really think, after all your little shows, that I’d just submit? Not a chance.” You spat, and his breath turned a little shaky as your hand slid up, then down.

As it evened out, and he reached for composure again, he pulled a countermove. Got in close, with words so sharp, they nearly cut through you.

“Which one was your favorite?”

You pulled your hand away. Your hold on the back of his neck tightened, and in turn, so did his grip on your hips, pulling you down harder as you got closer, panties bunching up as you became desperate.

You shook your head.

“Don’t.”

He smirked.

“I gave you plenty to go off. Tell me, was it when I sat right here while she rode me? Or when I was fucking her mouth and calling your name?”

He pulled your hips in rougher, and you gasped, barely able to think. You were sure if he kept this up, your thighs would chafe. You just couldn’t find it in you to care.

“No, I don’t think so.” He hummed. “I know which one it was. It was the second time, wasn’t it? When I was making her cum all over my tongue, wondering what you tasted like.”

You couldn’t help it – a moan slipped out of your lips. He kept up the pace, rolling your hips faster, flexing his thigh as you started losing your bearings. He laughed at the state of you.

“I knew that one would get to you. Tell me something, princess, how many times did you touch yourself after that night wishing it was me? Or did you lose count?”

You gritted your teeth, fighting the spinning room.

“Cocky much?”

He let out a breathy laugh again, as if he was losing himself as much as you were. Pulling you in harder in response.

“Look at you,” he mused, “riding my thigh like the needy slut you are. Bet you’re close, too, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Fuck.” you panted. “Stop fucking talking, oh my god.”

“You sure about that, sweetheart? You know I can feel how wet it’s making you, right?”

Your head dropped down and you whined. Sure enough, you’d soaked through your panties and dripped an embarrassing wet patch on his dress pants. You cursed under your breath as you slowed down.

“Beg me.” He ordered.

“No.” You gasped as he pulled you back again, faster, hips bucking as your legs started to shake around his.

“Beg me,” he repeated, "or I’ll stop.”

“Fuck, no, don’t fucking stop, I can’t-”

It was so much friction it hurt, but you kept chasing it.

“Yes, you can. You want to cum? Ask nicely, sweetheart. Just ask me.”

The seam of your panties got wetter as you moved, just enough to let the pain melt into pleasure instead as it caught on your clit, and you started to ride out your high. You were right at the edge, he was keeping you there, hair stuck to your face in a hot sweat as you writhed on his lap. So fucking close.

“Fine, shit. Please. Please help me cum, oh my god. Right there, please. Fuck.”

And maybe you were more like him than you thought, because you weren’t ashamed. You rode his thigh like you’d ride him, unabashedly, while he watched you starting to fall apart. He moved faster, pulled your hips hard in as if you were riding him, as if he could feel it, breath running ragged, desperate. It only brought you closer knowing this would be sending him over the edge, holding you so near and yet so awfully far away. The look in his eyes screaming danger, and you let it swallow you whole, squeezing his shoulders like you were scared you’d float away.

"That's it. Knew you'd sound incredible, asking me all pretty like that."

His lips met your neck, teeth grazing your skin and that’s what did it, your legs squeezing his as you shook through your orgasm, crying out, falling to pieces, hearing going fuzzy. The words good girl echoing through your head so distantly, you couldn’t tell if he’d really said them or not.

You sighed, glazed eyes rolling open, coming back to yourself. Your right hand was pressed against his chest, fingers curled into the creased fabric of his shirt. As you looked closer, you noticed it had opened wider, and he was missing a button. Had you done that?

When your eyes finally met Snow’s, you couldn’t look away from them. Beautiful and blue, like an ocean frozen over, staring into yours like you were all he’d ever wanted. You could get high off this feeling, live off it.

“Get on the bed.” He breathed. “Right fucking now.”

But too much of any feeling isn’t good for you.

“No.”

He glowered, face flushing even further, and as he leaned in to make another demand, you quickly stood, trying your hardest not to let your wobbling legs give you away.

“You should understand, Snow. We’re doing things my way now. And I’m going to be doing them as I please, when I please.”

You picked his jacket up from the floor, and slipped back into it, the soft fabric cooling down your burning skin.

“You think you’re funny, sweetheart? Nobody likes a fucking tease.”

You chuckled, doing up a button and brushing your hair out of your face, damp with sweat. You walked to the dresser and took a swig from Snow’s half-empty glass, then turned. He sat there, and it took everything in you not to smirk at the mess you’d made of him. You handed him the glass when you were done drinking and turned away. You felt him stand, but you didn’t acknowledge it, still fiddling with your hair, smoothing it out.

“You said it yourself, Snow. I’m no common whore. If you want me to beg you to fuck me, you’re gonna have to work for it.” You turned, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. His face was unreadable.

“But be a doll, leave your door unlocked.” You added, stepping back. “You never know when I might change my mind.”

“You’re not going to leave. You wouldn’t dare.” He seethed, the rage in his voice only propelling you on.

“Wouldn’t I?” You smiled, giving him a once over. Dropped your eyes down pointedly, first at the ruined leg you’d ridden, then at the uncomfortable-looking tent in his pants. You met his eye again and bit your lip, really laying it on thick. “Good luck with that, sweetheart. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

He huffed, incredulous, disbelief painted across his face as you made for the door, swinging it open. You glanced over your shoulder.

“Buckle up, Snow. I’m just getting started.”

You missed the way his shocked face turned almost admiring as he watched you leave, walking barefoot down the hallway, leaving the door wide open.

Checkmate.

a/n: hope it was worth the wait 😌

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coralinnii · 2 years ago

Text

❋ Accidentally ignoring him ❋

feat: Floyd ⭑ Vil ⭑ Ace ⭑ Leona genre: fluff, humour note: no pronouns used with reader, established relationships, reader is kinda oblivious and scatterbrained.

Ooff, someone’s gonna get squeezed

Not you…probably. Not until you explain yourself.

Floyd is used to being avoided. He’s tall, strong, and not afraid to give someone a beating should they get too annoying.

You have special privileges, though. Afterall, you’re his Shrimpy. His one and only thing that makes his day better, no matter his mood. A smile or wave from you would send him from 0 to 100 as he rushes to give you a swinging hug.

But that day when he yelled out for you from across the halls, you didn’t even give him a second glance. In fact, you just walked past him as though you didn’t know him. That’s not very nice, you know. Eels are very sensitive.

He came to the most logical conclusion (to him), someone did something to you and you’re too upset to acknowledge anyone, including him. Why else would you ignore Floyd, your lovable eel boyfriend?

Even after threatening questioning everyone who may be close to you, all he got was nothing as everyone said that nothing was out of the ordinary and you were fine when they last saw you. As scared as they were of the tall merman, they were sure that you were the same as always.

But if you were alright…then why did you ignore him?

The crowded hallways suddenly split like the Red Sea, making way for the unhappy sophomore as he made a beeline to where your next class was supposed to be. Sure enough, he saw you making your way there.

“Shrimpy!” He yelled out to you like he did earlier but like deja vu, you didn’t even raise your head or even turn to his direction which irritated Floyd, but he had another emotion, fear. Were you angry with him? So much so that you wouldn’t even look at him.

Getting close to you, he grabbed your shoulder and turned you around to finally make contact with you. If he wasn’t so sad, he would have thought your surprised face was cute.

Before he could question your silent treatment, you beamed with glee with that smile that Floyd loves and his worries dissipated just like that.

He watched you pull out one of your earbuds and greeted him brightly. You instantly wrapped the tall student in your arms, blissfully ignorant of the situation “Floyd, I haven’t seen you all day!”

Apparently, you finally saved enough money to buy a pair of earbuds and have been excitedly using them before and after classes. They work great as you can’t hear anything not coming from your new airbuds.

Floyd didn’t say anything, choosing to instead let his body melt into your hug, arms around you as his head rested atop of you. He’ll be mad at you at a later time but right now he’s letting this sense of relief wash over his previous worries. He’s secretly glad you weren’t mad at him or anything.

“Shrimpy is such a meanie, scarin’ me like that. Don’t do that again or I might just squeeze ya”

Offended.

Him? Vil? Being ignored? And by his beloved of all people? That’s inconceivable. Be it admiration or envy, Vil was always the target of everyone’s attention.

But there you go, hurriedly walking to wherever you need to be and rushing past him. Not even a small hello or a wave, he was absolutely ignored by you.

Vil’s not that petty (pfft!) so he wasn’t gonna make a big deal out of this incident but when he decided to meet you during lunch, Vil was stunned in his spot as you rushed out from the cafeteria the moment you were done with your meal. You didn’t give a passing glance his way as you exited the room.

This beautiful man searched through his memories for any clue to your odd behavior, but he couldn’t think of any reason for this sudden change. He knew your schedule so there weren't any urgent assignments or projects, and as far as he knew there wasn’t anything he did in particular that would make you avoid him like this.

He was aware that to many, his personality can be hard to approach with his unwavering expectations for others and himself. He’s cutthroat with his comments and he’s not afraid to give his truthful opinions of others, be it criticism or praises. Vil thought you were understanding of his critical tendencies, perhaps even appreciative of it. But maybe, he has gone one step too far. Maybe, you’re now afraid of what he might say to you so you’re avoiding him because of it.

However, Vil is not one to leave this to assumptions so he texted you if he could meet you as soon as possible. He’s pleased to hear that you’re willing to invite him over to your dorm that night. At least you’re not absolutely cutting him out.

The blonde senior reached your dorm, standing just outside the front entrance. A rare sensation of nervousness rushed through Vil’s body as he knocked on the door. Would he see you with a sad look on your face or worse, a look of fear as you’re scared of what he’ll say to you. These thoughts left an unpleasant mark in Vil’s mind as he waited for a response. Whatever the truth was, he refused to let this ruin what he has with you. If he wills it, he will make sure that he can work to fix this.

“Come in” he heard you call out which he doesn’t like. Do you not even want to see him until it’s absolutely necessary?

Steeling his emotions, Vil walked through the door with determination to get to the bottom of this, but his indifferent facade broke as he was bombarded with streamers as you screamed out with all your energy

“Congratulations!” You grinned from ear to ear as you were happy to surprise your lover with a surprise party for two. “I heard your recent movie got nominated for a huge award and you’re nominated for ‘Best Supporting Cast’”

You just heard about it from Cater and you wanted to congratulate your boyfriend before he would most likely be busy getting ready for that important award show so you wanted to plan an intimate surprise party as soon as you can. You were rushing all day, using all the free time you had to make all the preparations.

“I’m so happy, Vil. Your hard work is being recognised!” You’re so drunk in your happiness that you didn’t notice the conflicted look on the man of honor.

Vil wanted to pinch you so hard right now. He almost got stress wrinkles because of you and you were clueless on your effect on him. To think, the perfect Vil Schoenheit getting frazzled by this dumb potato.

But the blooming warmth in his heart that replaces the previous feelings of anxiety won as he chose to pat your head affectionately, looking over you with a look of bemusement.

“To think that a little spudling like you could work me up like this. Good grief”

Ace is dumbfounded, flabbergasted even. What could he have possibly done to have gotten the cold shoulder from you?

He texted you as usual, a casual “good morning” to start the day but he never received a text back from you. Though at this point, he shrugged it off thinking maybe you overslept.

This was one of those days where your schedules didn’t match with his so he could only text you before meeting up with you during lunch. But so far, he hasn’t heard a peep from you since that morning.

“What gives, man” the redhead thought as he kept an eye on his phone, hoping for a notification from you, almost getting caught by Professor Trein for using his phone in class. Whoops.

Ace still has a level head at this point so instead of freaking out, he planned on grilling you during lunch about the ghosting. He ignored Deuce as he scanned through the crowd. His spirits lifted when he finally saw you, but that disappeared when you walked out from the cafeteria with Ortho.

Ortho? Why leave your best friend and best boyfriend (both being him) for that tiny robot?? His voice could pass through the loud chatter of the lunch crowd so he tried desperately to text you again…only to be ignored again

Ace is stubborn and unappreciative of being put into the doghouse so he’s quick to visit your dorm the moment school is done. What could he have possibly done to deserve this? Did you find out he ate the last dessert in your fridge? Or maybe you realized he copied off your homework without your permission? Oh, he did accidentally break that nice pen you got…

Ok, maybe he might have done something to deserve this but heck he ain’t going down without a fight anyway.

It was that stubbornness that surprised you when you opened the doors to see a pouty redhead staring at you.

“Why have you been giving me the silent treatment, huh? Isn’t that a little immature?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t texted me all day!” Wow, now who’s calling who immature?

“That’s because I was getting my phone fixed,” you crossed your arms, annoyed by all this accusatory nonsense, “Remember? When we hung out yesterday and I dropped my phone while trying to run away from Riddle with you?”

Oh.

You went on to explain that your phone got real messed up since that day and you managed to convince Idia to fix it with the help of Ortho.

Ace felt his body hit the floor as a wave of relief hit him like a tsunami. All his bravado was gone just like that and all that was left was the solace he felt knowing you weren’t mad at him at all.

“Man, I thought you found out I ate your last dessert in the fridge”

“That was you?!”

“Sheesh, warn a guy next time would ya? Thought I was in real trouble or something”

Offended part 2.

You got some nerves ignoring him like that. This would be an insult to the Royal family if this were back in his home country.

Usually before the day starts, Leona would wake up from your gentle nagging and on occasion he could convince you to give him a few more minutes before getting up from bed, even longer if he could also convince you to snuggle with him.

But it’s past the typical wake up time and he doesn’t hear or smell you anywhere close to his room. It’s not like you to forget and he doesn’t recall anything unusual that would cause this sudden change in routine.

But Leona is as prideful as well…a lion so he’s not going to be the first to call you to see where you are. Nah, he’s not gonna be the clingy one that needs to know why you’re not here with him right now.

But soon, hours passed and you haven’t visited him or even text him which dampened the prince’s mood significantly. He doesn’t even entertain the idea that you were mad at him or that you were ignoring him. All he’s thinking is that you better have a good reason why you’re not with him right now.

Getting grumpier and hungrier, Leona finally decided to get up and leave his bedroom after taking the hint that you’re probably not gonna be coming in anytime soon. Every Savanaclaw student with half a brain knew to stay clear of their Housewarden as he looked ready to bite someone’s head off.

He would never admit it, but he kept his eyes and ears out for even a glimpse of you as he walked through the hallways, subtly scanning the crowd for your face. He won’t ask if anyone has seen you or act like he was looking for you but even he can’t stop the twitch of his ears anytime he thought he saw you from afar.

He was almost ready to tear into a poor student due to his bad mood until he finally heard you calling for him from across the hall. His mane-like hair whipped in the air as he quickly turned to the direction of your voice.

“Leona, there you are!”

“What, miss me already?” This man with his undeserved smugness.

Ignoring his quip, you hurriedly grabbed your lover’s hand before pulling him into the direction of the headmage’s office, “There are some important figures visiting the campus today and Crowley is calling for all of the Housewardens to meet in his office”

Leona groaned at the idea of meeting some stuck-up geezers but willingly let you pull him around, relishing the feel of your touch he’s been craving since this morning.

In your rush, you pushed some papers into Leona’s free hand, containing short biographies of certain people. “These are some info I found on our visitors today so you’re not going in empty-handed. Seriously, this is why you need a vice Housewarden. This took me all morning to compile”

Well, that explains your absence. The lion beastman would say that’s a justifiable reason for skipping out on him this morning. His bad mood disappeared as though it never was and soon he was replaced with a new sense of pride over you. Seeing you acting all responsible and assisting him with his duties…

Makes him think you would be perfect by his side in the royal family.

“You got some guts makin’ me wait. But I’m in a good mood now, so I guess I won’t eat you this once”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #disney twisted wonderland #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #floyd leech #floyd x reader #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #twst vil x reader #ace trappola #twst ace #twst ace x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader

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callooopie · 6 months ago

Text

Modern!Davos Blackwood headcannons (pt. Smut)

— NSFW edition—

It can’t be unlearned. I’ve known the warmth of your doorways — It Will Come Back // Hozier

I haven’t written NSFW in a bit ~3~. Bear with me while I try not to blush and cringe at my own writing T~T (also that new episode.. rip MY queen Rhaenys dude. It actually made me so bummed it ruined my night.) Also do I still use the Benjicot tags or is he now his own character now that he’s been mentioned finally ~3~ ?!

cw— NSFW, smut detailed to the best of my abilities. Minors do not interact. Interact with this and I’ll punch you so hard your ancestors will feel it I’ll-

< added one (1) new headcannon since posting >

Cool, calm, confident. That’s what Davos was. Surely it would translate to the bedroom too—it does not. He’s shy the first time around. Very much. Silent, rigid; his eyes simply darting up and down your body as you undress in front of him. The only sign that he’s there in the head is his hands gripping the comforter in his fists tightly. Before you begin, please give him a few kisses and reassuring smiles. Sitting in his lap and doing so does wonders. Run your fingers through his hair in a calming manner too.

You might have to pause, because he’s genuinely trembling out of excitement and anticipation that he cannot concentrate or continue without calming down. He just loves your touch! Any touch, all touch. Your fingers grazing against his skin, it’s like nicotine. Press your nose against his, laugh softly and kindly against his lips, and tell him it’s alright—you can wait a minute. His hands (shaking slightly still) will find their way to your hips soon enough.

Before you two experience each other more often. Before ANY sexual encounters, with you or not with you. He is the type of guy… to not know where the clit is. It’s a sad truth. You have to sit him down and literally point to where it is. No pants, sitting on the bed with your legs spread. It’s not even sexual at this point, you’re just letting him ooo and ahh at your pussy as you tell him what feels good and how to make it feel good. A lesson in anatomy that has him going (“…really?!”). Don’t worry. He gets with the program right away. When he figures shit out you won’t ever let him leave the house ever again.

If he’s already on the more experienced side and/or after you’ve both gotten comfortable with one another after months or a couple years; he is a fiend, a menace. He wants his sheets drenched by the time you’re both done. He wants you passed out, unconscious. If you aren’t being carted off to the emergency room after sex he feels he isn’t doing it right.

Speaking of.. He has sent you to the ER before. A bruised cervix that sent searing pain whenever you walked, burning aches in your muscles and bones from being bent or pulled around that. It’s something that’s never happened before and worried you enough to make Davos drive you to the urgent care. Embarrassment and a hint of disbelief burned on your face as the doctor awkwardly told you your diagnoses, splitting their gaze between you and Davos. The latter had the biggest grin on his face as he sat there like an innocent man. His apologies are a farce don’t believe it.

Needs you to sit on his face. Dude gets off on eating you like you’re his last meal, and makes it messy too.. Doesn’t matter when (or where..) but if you are not straddling his head, laying her full weight onto him—that’s basically like breaking his heart. He wants to die by your thighs that’s his goal. He is the type to grab and scratch at your thighs, squeezing flesh as he tries to pull you closer to his lips and tongue. Sometimes his hand leaves your thigh to deal with his own hardened cock—muffled and incoherent whines leaving him as he devours you sloppily and breathlessly. If he’s eating you out while you’re laying on your back; he will be pathetically grinding against the mattress.

Suck him off under his desk. Quietly slip underneath the wooden desk, he’s too focused on whatever he’s doing to even notice you undoing the string of his sweats anyways. Once he dies in-game and looks down he gets the memo, silently helping you slide them off of him as he talks to his team. Whatever you do, do not drag your tongue up from his base to his tip—especially when he’s comming to his teammates. He’ll be talking normally and then let out a nearly pornographic whine. If you choose to not be a menace off the bat and simply slide his cock in and out of your mouth; he’ll go blank in the head. He starts to mess up, mouth going slack as he splits his attention between the game and you on your knees between his legs with your tongue wrapping around his tip and licking off whatever leaking pre-cum you find. It’s the fastest he’s ever won (or lost) a game.

It’s edge or be edged in his world. Loves it when you tell him he can’t cum. A sloppy half-grin plastered on his face as you ride him. His hands holding your hips as he sits up, looking up at you from where he places his head by your chin. He’s gonna bitch and moan about it as usual, but slowly devolves into loud begging. His speech is slurred as his eyes stare up at you like your god who has the power to grant him that divine release he’s been denied for an hour.

He loves fucking you against the wall. It gives him a reason to show off his arms and muscles—and it feels good. If you have comments about your weight, your body, how will he hold you up, etc. Leave ‘em at the door, Davos does not care. He goes to the gym for this reason baby! To be able to lift you easily and hold you against the apartment wall as he pounds into you. His hands digging into the skin of where your thighs and ass meet. Wrap your legs around his waist, tangle your fingers into his hair. You’re not leaving until there’s a puddle of your arousal and cum underneath you.

Switch. He’s a switch. Let the world (and himself) believes he’s a top, only you will know the truth. And the truth is that he loves when you take control. Tie him up, slap him around, ride him till he’s crying and drooling from either edging or overstimulation—and then keep going some more. But also remember that he can easily overpower you, pinning you down to the bed or against a wall as he thrusts in and out of you with loud groans and words of praise. His hand holds your head down as he fucks you from behind, fingers grasping onto your hair as he rambles in a pleasured high. Davos is the type to tear underwear too, so be careful about that as well..

Davos is gentle, Davos is rough. No matter what, he’s mean about it. And he’s very vocal about it too. He’ll ask if you’re enjoying yourself, if you’re liking how rough he’s fucking your cunt right now—speaking of.. can you hear how wet you are right now, it’s almost embarrassing no? Ohhh, you like being used by him? Well.. he likes your sloppy pussy too—don’t worry. Made just for him, all for him. If he’s gentle he asks if you’re doing okay between the soft kisses he places on your neck and face. His face will nuzzle against your neck, soft whispers of how you feel entering your ear between groans. You’re just a sweetheart after all, aren’t you? So soft, so good, just for him. He likes how you feel around him, how soft your skin feels under his hands. So beautiful, so cute. Don’t you like how you can feel all of him as he thrusts into you slowly? Can you feel every vein and ridge? ‘Cause he can feel every squeeze and shudder from your walls darling.

Biter. I’ve got him pinned—Davos is a biter. Bites at your nipples before swirling a tongue around them and sucking harshly. Licks your ear before biting and tugging on it. He’s a bastard and bites your clit, a low chuckle coming from him as you yelp (he kisses it after, of course). Hickeys line your skin from your neck to your lower abdomen. Bite marks, prominent bite marks, are scattered across your body. No matter what, it’ll be on your neck mostly as well. From the front or the back, a bite mark will find its way to your neck. He just gets so into it! Dicking you down so roughly he just needs to latch his teeth onto your skin hard enough to draw blood. What? No he did not lick the droplet of blood up you must be imagining—

…car sex—I’m sorry I said it. At night when you both are skating or if he’s driving around with you. Sometimes you just end up in an empty parking lot.. the windows are fogged up and there’s music playing faintly, not that you care or really hear it as you listen to his moans. His hands holding your hips or waist as you slowly bounce on his cock while he sits in the driver seat. Bonus if you hold the thin necklace he wears between your teeth as you grind yourself down onto him.

Added! HE’S INTO SHOTGUNNING. Absolutely, how did I forget such a thing. Happens when you’re riding him. It’s a lazy night; him sitting in a chair, a cigarette between his fingers as you moan and whimper loudly. His other hand remains on your ass, guiding you up and down as he lets his head fall back briefly with a low grunt from his throat. He sits back up to take a drag from the cigarette, his other hand moving up from your ass to the back of your head (he gives you a parting slap to your butt). He presses your face closer to his and you instinctively part your lips, letting him blow smoke into it. He does talk you through that like he’s talking you through your orgasm, soft words of encouragement and guidance as he watches you blow it back out. It ends in him kissing you and wrapping one arm tightly around your waist as he starts to thrust up into you roughly. “In.. and out.. atta girl. There we are. Aren’t you just a good listener, my lovely lady?”

#davos blackwood #davos blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood x reader #hotd x reader #hotd x you #modern!benjicot #modern!Davos #fancast!Benjicot #benjicot x reader #hotd smut #Davos x reader smut #Benjicot x reader smut #house of the dragon

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