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casualhedonists · 11 months ago

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

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

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/violence mention (but no actual murder) , MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, roughhousing, eventual piv, one chapter specific dubcon scene (pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

chapter: 5/6

words: um. 9.5k (sorry? but also you're welcome??)

chapter warnings: this chapter contains a scene that falls solidly into dubcon territory, so please proceed with caution, stay safe out there.

moodboards

series masterlist

a/n: WELL. here we are, almost at the end of our little rollercoaster ride. i've lost brain cells over this chapter, almost cut it up into smaller chunks, but ended up leaving it as long as i originally planned (longer, in fact. whoops). as always, feedback is very welcome + encouraged (i love hearing/reading your thoughts as things progress) buckle up, please do take note of the dubcon warning, prepare for the angst, and most importantly, enjoy!

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

He was back to ignoring you again.

But this time, the feeling was mutual. You’d never felt as thoroughly rejected as you did the night he had you walk back to your room, legs weak, wrapped in nothing but his shirt.

Once upon a time, this scenario would have been one you dreamed of, but reality often falls flat on its face. You wouldn’t have dreamt of walking away from him like this if you’d known it would feel this empty.

Humiliation ran rampant through your body, starting with the tears you blinked away as you left his room, closing the door behind you, and then flooding over as you stepped into your own room, slumping on the bed, curling up into yourself and weeping, pressing your still aching legs together but too upset to finish yourself off.

You kicked yourself for getting carried away, for getting too loud, too possessive with his face between your thighs and your hand in his hair. For getting so caught up in the moment, briefly forgetting your games, and for believing even for a second that you would be on the same page.

This push and pull had begun to wear you thin, and you were tired. So, you slept. Until nearly midday the next morning, when Lucille knocked on your door to remind you it was time for your monthly PR debrief.

The good news, though arguable at this point, was that your arrangement hadn’t been affected by recent events. At least, not on paper. Cordelia ran you through each gala, public appearance, and dinner, barely noticing your preoccupation, rambling on about speeches, coordinating outfits, dates and times of events, what to say and how to say it.

For you - and you could only imagine, Coriolanus too - everything had changed over the span of a month.

Your shame made you abnormally quiet, head hung low, gaze averted, nodding along as Cordelia prompted either a response or approval from you. Snow just stared, glancing at her only when completely necessary, but otherwise, he didn’t take his eyes off you.

He was enjoying this. The sick fuck. You were glad when the meeting ended and you could scamper into the library, eager to lose yourself in a story of any kind other than the one you were living.

This went on. By day, you barely looked at him; by night, you tried over and over to prove that your own fingers were enough to keep you satisfied. To convince yourself that you just wanted him, you didn’t need him.

Because if you needed him, then he called the shots. He would win. And victorious as he may seem, the game wasn’t over yet. You’d slipped up in a moment of vulnerability, he’d tricked you into a corner just to prove his point.

You wanted him, you didn’t need him. But if you did… well.

He was going to have to need you more.

You held back this time. Keeping your cards safe, close to your chest. In a strange way, you found a kind of solace in your arrangement. Recent events had caused it to feel unstable, breakable even, but the meeting had ensured that it was all still on the right track. It allowed you to take a small piece of what you wanted from him without guilt or repercussions. After all, it was planned out to benefit you both. Then, when you were ready, and with a gentle hand, you began to weaponise it, loading it up in the barrel of a gun aimed directly at Snow.

You didn't have much left, but you had this. You knew where your promiscuity had led you. This time, you wanted to pull on his heart strings. Make him feel remorse, or whatever similar emotion he was capable of. Make him soften to you. Torture him with almosts that were never enough.

So when you took, you took cautiously, tentatively. You deepened your usually light kisses to what was just past socially acceptable, only to pull back when Snow began to lean in, turning away and smiling at the people surrounding you, or full-on entering into conversation with somebody else. You'd brush your thumb against his when you held hands, waiting for him to look at you, drawing your hand away when he did. You'd offer smiles to everyone but him, talk and laugh a little louder when you could feel him watching.

You pretended he didn’t exist. You could feel him begin to simmer. It wasn't as brazen as your usual game, but it was working.

Until it wasn’t.

“Something’s wrong, what is it?”

Lucille’s face dropped, her shaking hands lowering from the zip she was struggling with. You were getting ready for a luncheon, and you’d picked out an emerald green dress, one of your favorites for daytime events.

“I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice, ma’am. I apologise. It’s my brother, he… it’s getting worse again.”

“Sit down for a second. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You listened to Lucille open up uncomfortably, visibly nervous that you would offer your financial support as you’d done before. But you didn’t, sparing her from having to turn you down.

Lucille was stubborn - she would never accept your charity. She was more than happy to work for her wages, and frequently worked longer hours. As months went by, you’d brought her pay up as high as you could without her noticing. But now things were getting more critical, and you knew there was only one thing you could do.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go and see your brother.”

“But you’re not dressed-”

“I’ll take care of it. Go home, Lucille. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She smiled softly.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

You’d tried with the zip, you really had. You didn’t want to have to knock on Snow’s office door with two favors to ask instead of one, but the dress was tight and the zip kept getting jammed. So, there you stood, dress half undone at the back, heart in your throat. You counted your blessings; at least it wasn’t his bedroom. You didn’t think you could face him at all in there. You heard typing from inside.

“Come in.”

You pushed the door open, feeling like an intruder.

“Sorry, I just… Could you help me with this?” Your hand tightened behind your back, holding the dress together.

He narrowed his eyes. He was already in his suit, typewriter on the desk in front of him.

“Lucille forget how to do her job?”

“I don’t need snide right now. Please, Coriolanus? I’ll explain when I’m not half naked. It’s drafty in here.”

You tried to make it clear in your tone that this wasn’t some ploy. You weren’t sure you had many of those left to offer.

“Fine.” He sighed, and stood, making no motion towards you, so you crossed the room, gripping onto the fabric, turning your back to him.

His hand came to rest on your waist as the other took the zipper, and you tried not to flinch at his touch. You pressed your lips together as he carefully zipped you up, cold metal sending a chill down your spine. Or maybe that was just him. You felt your eyes slide shut and your lips part as his hand lingered on your waist. You couldn’t hear anything but your heartbeat and the tick of his grandfather clock.

“Is that okay? Not too tight?” His breath on your neck gave you goosebumps, you hoped desperately that he wouldn’t notice.

“No, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

The second his hand fell from your waist, you missed it. You carefully met his eye; he was looking at you like you had something he wanted.

So why hadn’t he wanted you? You’d been right there, and he’d turned you down.

He cleared his throat.

“I should finish this letter before we leave. Was there anything else?”

You paused.

“Actually, there is. Could I ask you a favor?” You glanced off to the side, suddenly very interested in the knots of wood on his desk. What helped was that you'd never seen inside this room before, and you hid behind your curiosity like it was a lifeline.

“What is it?”

“It’s…” you lowered your voice, “it’s about Lucille. Her brother, actually. He’s in the hospital again. The family can’t afford the medical bills to keep him in for as long as he needs. I’d like to foot the bill, but I can’t do it anonymously. I thought… well, I was wondering if you could pull a few strings.”

You were overexplaining, something you weren’t at all used to doing, but these days, just being in the same room as him made you nervous. You stared at his desk, at the lack of photographs on it, the single pen laying to the side, the smoothness of the glaze.

It was quiet for a moment.

“Consider it done.”

You looked up.

“Really?”

“Did you think I’d say no?” He asked.

“I- no, but…”

“It’s something that matters to you.”

You blinked, dumbfounded at how simply he put it.

“Yes. It is. Thank you, Coriolanus.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll make sure it’s anonymous.”

“Thank you. Or, I mean…”

He looked at you, and you wanted to melt. Wanted to throw strategy out the window, god, but -

You couldn’t. It hadn’t worked last time. You’d hoped to avoid a stalemate, but here you were, sat right in the middle of one.

“The car’s coming in a half hour. Are you almost ready?” He asked.

“Yes. Almost.”

The luncheon was going well, at first. You were at the head of a large table, sat beside Snow, straightening your salad fork as he stood up to make a speech. You’d been glancing at him throughout the afternoon; it wasn’t so hard to anymore. It felt like his willingness to help Lucille without question, just because it was what you wanted, had more of an effect on you in five minutes than the entire week of your teasing had on him. One conversation, and the tides had changed.

As he began talking, you started to realise that your gentler approach may have been affecting you more than it had him. The party was transfixed; people loved to hear him talk, and you were proud. He had a certain way with words; you knew better than anyone. You’d fallen victim to them.

You weren’t sure why his words affected you – you’d been there, you’d agreed when Cordelia had suggested he say something nice about you in this particular speech, really make the crowd swoon, lay it on thick - but when he started to talk about you, about how proud he was to have you by his side, how strong you were-

You knew he was just reciting a script written for him, but you couldn’t help it. The tears began to quietly fall. You thanked whatever higher being was listening for not letting anyone notice.

Or so you thought.

It was just typical that out of all the people that could’ve noticed, the one person who knew better was the only one who did.

The rest of them would’ve brushed it off as you simply being moved by emotion, honored by his kind words. You blinked away your tears, taking small, polite sips of your wine. It was painful because you knew it wasn’t true. None of it was, you knew he could never say those words and mean them.

And he knew that too.

It was dark when you got home, and you trailed behind him awkwardly on your way upstairs.

“Can I have a word?” his voice was gentle, and it set you on edge.

“Sure.”

You stood awkwardly in the hallway, then he led you into the office. He leaned against his desk, and you shifted your feet where you stood, eyes on the floor, on the art on the walls, on anything other than him.

“You were upset today.” He started.

You swallowed.

“It won’t happen again, I promise.” you kept your voice steady. He paused.

“If that was my fault, I apologise. If I took it too far, if I upset you-”

You weren’t sure which part he was talking about, but you finally looked at him in a sort of distant defiance.

“Do you even care if I’m upset?”

“Of course I do. Especially when it’s something that affects you… publicly.”

You huffed, forcing yourself to stare him down.

“Because that’s all that matters, right? What the public sees?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure it is. It’s okay, Snow. I’m a big girl. And I can take a hint, too. So don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine. Business as usual, right?”

He just stared, puzzled. You took a breath.

“Look, it’s been a long day. Can I go, or are you going to keep me here all night?”

The silence was like smoke, clouding between you. His brow furrowed, calculating. Then he sighed, long and heavy, and you tried not to let it phase you.

“Fine. Go.”

You nodded.

“Goodnight.”

You’d never been more relieved to get away from him. Your broken walls were starting to build back up. You wouldn’t let him break you, you couldn’t. You were stronger than this.

That night, for the first time, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was truly what you wanted.

“Darling, you look ravishing.” Lilian drawled. “It’s a pity Snow is so far across the room, and can’t appreciate you. If I dressed half as nicely as you did, perhaps my dear husband wouldn’t be screwing the maid.”

A scandalised chorus of giggles erupted from the group. It was a pretty dress, one of your best. Long and smooth black fabric, ruched at the waist, with a deep cut up the leg that was just acceptable for an evening gala. You stood tall, champagne glass in hand, gossiping with your friends.

Well.

Friends was being generous. You kept few true friends, and they would hardly be gossiping in a circle like this.

Acquaintances was a better fit. Pawns if you were being brutally honest. Politicians’ wives, senators’ mistresses, a chancellor’s daughter or two. Pieces of chess, really, in this bigger game. Anyone who could help you climb higher, whisper carefully spun words into open ears at your whim.

“I just know George would rip that dress off me the moment I got home. He might not even be able to wait, and just pull me into a closet here instead.”

Another eruption of giggles.

“Well, I’m flattered, my darlings.” You smiled. “This is one of my favorites. Coriolanus treats me well.”

“I’m sure he does,” a suggestive glance from Lilian, “in all the ways one would expect, I assume?”

You gasped in mock modesty.

“Lilian,” you drawled, “I certainly hope you’re not suggesting I disclose our-”

“Oh, just tell us dear, please. We’re all dying to know. You’re always so coy about it. What’s he like?”

You pulled your lips into a knowing smile, your perfectly painted face helping you slide into this facade. You scanned your eyes across the ballroom, across to Snow. He stood talking to a group of men, colleagues of his. You recognised their faces.

It had been four days since the luncheon. Four days since your outburst. Four days of hiding away. You’d been dreading tonight’s gala, but it gave you an excuse to dress nicely, and as soon as you’d arrived, you and Coriolanus has gone your separate ways.

“Well,” you hummed, masking your uncertainty as anticipation, “he can be a slight tease.”

A few dramatic gasps sounded through the group, and you turned back to face them, their eyes wide and expectant.

“Salacious. Do tell.” Another voice piped up with a giggle.

“He can be fun to toy with. I do enjoy pushing back, but sometimes he takes it… a little far.” You said carefully.

“My, who would have known? But you get what you want, my dear, surely.” Lilian asked.

You smiled, glancing back at him, suit pristine with a white rose in his breast pocket. You hated how good he looked. He was smiling politely at the group of men around him, but you could tell from the tick in his jaw that something was bothering him.

“Sometimes, I do. Others, I wait for my chance to push his buttons right back.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? I don’t suppose,” she pressed, “that you’re in one of those… entanglements at the moment?”

“Lilian, darling, you know I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Another giggle sounded from the group.

“Oh, my.” Lilian repeated, glancing between the two of you. “I do hope you’ve been making him suffer.”

“Well, I’m playing a longer game this time, so I’m afraid there hasn’t been as much fun lately.”

Lilian sucked in a breath, like the perfect idea had just dawned on her.

“Well, I see no moment like the present. You’re here, you’re dressed marvellously, I propose you walk right over there and show him just what he’s missing.”

A chorus of yes and do it and we’ll cheer you ons rang out. Loosened by the champagne, you looked across the room at him again. You could do it. He wouldn’t be able to react, it would be the most perfect torture. You suddenly decided that you were done making small moves, done playing it safe like this was some schoolgirl crush. It was time to step up to the mark again. Take your power back.

Your group could sense the newfound determination in you. You smiled, slow and cunning.

Show him what he’s missing.

Simple. It’s what you did best.

“Watch and learn, ladies.”

A hush fell over the group as they watched you run a hand through your hair, handed your glass to one of them, and pressed your lips together. Before you’d left the house you’d added a swipe of red lipstick, dark red, almost bloodlike. It always made you feel more confident and tonight, you needed the pick me up.

The middle of the ballroom was practically empty; the dancing was over, and everyone had long since gathered in groups to the sides. So you turned heads when you stepped out, the only one on the floor, black satin hugging your frame like a second skin. You didn’t look at them, you made a steady beeline to Snow. You felt more and more eyes on you as you crossed the room, heels clicking on the floor. They all watched, waiting for… something. Coriolanus didn’t look up until you were a mere few steps away, now deep in some conversation he was going to forget very shortly.

Blue eyes flashed to yours with a confused apprehension, but you didn’t give yourself time to think about the twitch of his brow, or the looks on the faces of his colleagues. You didn’t think about the way he opened his mouth as if to say something, only for it to be swallowed away.

You didn’t think about any of that.

Because your lips were on his.

Hot and hungry, teeth clashing, your hand grabbing the back of his neck as he leaned in, surprised at first, then warm, wanting. Lips tugging at yours like he was starving.

It was sinful.

You’d never been kissed like this before. Your fuzzy brain wondered how you’d gone through life not knowing what this felt like, the press of his lips devouring yours, heated and messy.

He kissed you like breathing, like you were his oxygen supply. His hand slid to your waist and pulled you in, and you heard the echoes of chuckling coming from around you, morphing into a few light claps.

Then, just as you felt him fully melt into you, your hand slipped higher to the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of perfect platinum curls, and tugged.

It was nothing but an affectionate display to the people surrounding you, but a brazen reminder between the two of you. It was your way of showing you hadn’t forgotten, that you wouldn’t be made to feel ashamed, to cower in a corner while he got the better of you.

Not in this lifetime.

The second it happened, his breath hitched, and his hand tensed on your waist. You were the only one who caught it, getting high off the satisfaction, finally pulling away.

You weren’t sure you’d ever seen a prettier sight; his blown-out eyes, his face stained with scarlet.

How’s that for tasting your own medicine.

Watching him attempt to collect himself was sweeter still. Watching him reset his face into one of distant amusement. He let out a small laugh, glanced at the rest of the party.

“Everything alright, doll? Had a little much champagne, perhaps?”

His colleagues chuckled, but you didn’t look their way. You stood your ground. Offered a sweet smile, but he could see your slyness.

“Oh, I’m swell. And I think I’ve had just enough, actually. I’m gonna go freshen up.”

You turned on your heel and made your way through winding halls to the bathroom, riding an adrenaline high. You picked up a glass from a server’s tray along the way – the champagne had dried out, all they were serving now was posca, which while disgusting, worked a treat to take the edge off. It wasn’t long before the door swung open and you saw Coriolanus appear behind you in the mirror.

“This is the ladies’ room, handsome.” You looked away, continuing to reapply your lipstick.

He stepped closer.

“What was that kiss about, sweetheart?” Straight to the point.

“Nothing.” You shrugged.

“Didn’t feel like nothing.”

“That’s called acting, Snow.” You rolled your eyes, vaguely aware that your words sounded a little jumbled. You put the tube of lipstick away. “We had an audience. A rather expectant one at that.”

He folded his arms.

“I don’t like it when you catch me off guard like that. Not with people around.”

“Seemed to like it plenty to me.” You mumbled.

He didn’t answer, pacing past you to the other sink, grabbing a towel and wiping it against his face, where the red had stained his skin. It only served to spread it around further, and if you weren’t already smugly entertained by the marks you’d left on him, now it was just plain funny.

He glared at you when you laughed.

“Don’t give me that look. Here,” you offered, stepping across to him, taking the towel and wetting it, “let me.”

You wiped at a patch, but he snatched the towel back and took over.

“No, you’re rubbing it too hard. It’s-” he glowered at you – “fine. Do it your way.”

You went back to lean against your sink and took another sip of posca, admiring the ornate decorations in the room. A little excessive, a little new money for your tastes.

There was a rap on the door.

“President Snow?”

“Just a minute.” He said coolly.

“You’re in a mood tonight.” You remarked, and he huffed.

“Running a country can get exhausting. Don’t expect you to understand.”

“Right.” You said flatly. “Because I’m just a brainless pawn like everybody else.”

He looked over at you, at the drink in your hand.

“How many of those have you had?”

You shrugged again, and he tossed the towel into the sink, walking over to you.

“Answer me.” His voice was stern, and for a second, you soaked it in, drenched in the danger as he approached, closing in. Your tongue slipped out to wet your lips, and your eyes followed his as he moved to stand in front of you.

“Shame you don’t have someone to let all that frustration out on, isn’t it? Sounds like that could be helpful.”

His eyes pierced yours.

“Doll-”

“I’m just saying, it’s a pity you don’t.” You moved to bring the glass to your lips, anticipating the burn in your throat, but he gently stopped your hand.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“Posca? It’s my first glass.” You smiled, eyes batting.

“You know what I mean. I think you should stop.”

You looked at the glass, then back at him, and pried your hand away, slowly and pointedly taking another sip.

“Sweetheart.” He warned.

“What, are you punish me? Gonna make me beg for you then kick me out again? Already did that once.”

He gave an incredulous half-laugh.

“That’s what this is about? You’re not really going to be mad about that forever, are you?”

“That depends. How long is forever?”

The door knocked again, and he worked the glass out of your hand.

“Drink some water. Sober up. We’ll talk about this when we get home.”

You sighed, heading for the door, but glanced back at him, his face still a stained mess. You brushed a finger against your own cheek to mirror his.

“You missed a spot.”

You sat in silence in his office, feeling a little like a schoolchild caught misbehaving. His typing was the only sound in the room. The seat was low; almost as if it was there to point out his authority over anyone who sat in it. Knowing him, it probably was.

He’d managed to clean off the rest of your lipstick, but his face looked rubbed raw, uncomfortable. A tall glass of water sat on the desk in front of you.

“Thought you said we’d talk.”

“Not until you finish that glass. I’m not talking to you inebriated.”

“Seriously?”

He shot you a look from behind his typewriter.

“Fine. Whatever.” You reached for it and took a few sips. He looked back down again. A few folders cluttered the desk, and in your boredom, your eyes scanned them. They looked complicated; legal.

“What are you writing there anyway? Or am I too dumb to understand?”

He offered another unimpressed glance.

“It’s a new bill I’m trying to pass. Except apparently, I’m the only one around here with their head screwed on enough to work on it.”

You waited as Snow pushed the typewriter’s lever, carriage sliding the page as he began writing the next line. You sipped your water.

He sighed. “One day I won’t have to mingle with these idiots anymore. They’ll just listen to me, and obey.”

You took that in.

“Do you feel that way about me?”

He studied you for a second, and stopped typing.

“No. Not really.”

“But you wish I’d be more… compliant.” You stared at the floor.

“Not necessarily.”

“You sure? Didn’t seem to like it the other night.”

His eyes narrowed. Knowing this conversation was a game of chess like any other. But lately the stakes were higher than ever.

“Never said I didn’t like it. Just that you were out of line.”

“And where is that fucking line?” You snapped. “I’m serious, Snow, because we’ve never talked about it.”

“You want to talk, all of a sudden? Okay, sweetheart. Fire away.”

You put the glass down on the table, heavier than intended.

“I just don’t understand you, Coriolanus. I mean, first you don’t want me, then you do want me, then you don’t again. And now what? I don’t know what I’m supposed to think when you don’t give me anything to go off.”

He watched you carefully, and you wanted to shake him, to scream, anything that would give you answers. You stood, unable to sit still, and started pacing.

“You know what’s worse? I don’t even know if you want me here anymore. I don’t know how to act around you because I never know what you’re thinking. At first I thought all this, the whole push and pull, was just some control thing. But-” you laughed, airy and insane, “you know what I realised? You’ve had me fooled, Snow. All this time I thought we were equals, but now I think I finally realise.”

He frowned, waiting for you to continue.

“You pay for my company, if you think about it. We trade services, don’t we? You get something from me, I get something back. I live in your house, eat your food, wear nice clothes. At the end of the day, that’s just it, isn’t it?”

“What?”

You shrugged, tears filling your eyes as bitterness took over, so strong you could almost taste it.

“I’m no better than a whore myself.”

You’d never heard a louder silence. If that hadn’t just taken everything out of you, you’d have begged him to say something. Instead, you just stared, eyes blurry with tears, as he seconds seemed to stretch into minutes, and you gave up trying to read his mind, because his expression was indecipherable.

After what felt like hours, he took a long breath.

“Sit down.”

You glanced at the floor, then took a step towards your chair. He stopped you.

“Not there. Here.” He nodded at the desk in front of him, and you swallowed thickly, stepping around the desk, getting awfully close to him, and pulling yourself onto the desk, legs pressed together. He stood, looking down at you.

“That’s really what you think of yourself?” He asked, voice steady and controlled.

You kept your eyes averted.

“Am I wrong?”

He lifted a hand and brushed his fingertips against your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. And when you looked at his eyes, you knew exactly what he was feeling. He wasn’t hurt, or upset.

He was mad.

“Tell me something. What do you think I’d do if I heard someone talking about you that way?

“I don’t-”

“I’d have them executed. And you expect me to stand by and let you talk about yourself like that?”

You felt a tear spill down your cheek.

“I don’t know, Coriolanus, you tell me. Am I disposable to you?”

“Of course not."

“But you’d replace me if I left.”

“What makes you think I’d let you leave in the first place?”

A chill caressed your spine.

“That’s right. I’m keeping you here, doll. If I made you doubt that, I apologise. But you’re no whore. Though sometimes, I…” He trailed off.

“What?”

His eyes were on your lips again, hungry. You wondered how someone could switch from distant to depraved and wanting this quickly.

“Sometimes I wish you were. Because it’d make it a lot easier for me to take what I want. If you were, then I’d have no hesitation in ripping your clothes off right here. Fucking you on my desk, or up against the wall, not caring if you cum. Not caring if you enjoy it. If you were a whore, I’d have fucked you in every room in this house, twice over. I wouldn’t let you sleep.”

His hand was on your thigh, the now-creased fabric of your dress crumpling as it slid up. You weren’t sure when your eyes had fallen shut, your hot breath mixing with his as his thumb rubbed against your skin.

Your voice was pathetically quiet.

“Then why don’t you?”

He sighed, tone shifting into something tense, something you could cut through with a knife.

“Because you’re fucking impossible, you know that? I can barely think when you’re around. I don’t know where the games begin or end. I don’t… I don’t understand this power you have over me. I thought you knew, you must know that you’re under my skin. I don’t know if you’ll ever stop playing with me. It drives me fucking insane.”

You opened your eyes, hand gripping his wrist and pulling it from your thigh. You slid off the desk and took a step away from him.

“You think I’m playing with you? The only time you pay an ounce of attention to me is when you’re trying to fuck with my head, Snow. I said my piece, you heard me and you still didn’t care. So please, for both our sakes, stop torturing me. Just… come find me when you decide you want me again, okay? Let’s leave it at that.”

You made for the door, which you slammed with such an impressive force that it even took you aback.

You replayed his words in your head that night until you fell into a deep sleep, and when you woke, you felt like your dreams made more sense than he did.

“Tigris!” you exclaimed, catapulting into the blonde’s arms. The people who stood scattered around you in the manor’s large ballroom spun their heads around at your display. A few even dodged to the side as the momentum that you’d built running down the stairs nearly knocked her over.

A few days of silent glances and fewer exchanged words had passed. And now, you were just happy to be hosting in the comfort of your own home, and to finally see Tigris again. You wondered if she noticed how you hugged her, if she wondered - like you did - if you’d ever let go.

“I’m so happy you’re here. How’s your Grandma’am?”

“She’s quite well, she’s sorry she couldn’t make it. You look beautiful as ever. It’s been too long!”

“I know! I don’t think I’ve seen you since your birthday, which makes me the worst friend ever.” You groaned, scrunching up your face in shame.

“It’s okay! I know busy Coriolanus keeps you with all these functions. You must be going out of your mind by now. How are you holding up?”

The two of you walked to the edge of the room, where prying eyes had settled down after your greeting.

You looked at Snow, stood across the ballroom, dressed in a pristine suit with a champagne glass in hand, talking to yet another group of men who worked for him – ministers and such, a little higher ranking than the group from the other night – and spared you the occasional glance. As if he was keeping tabs on you. It wasn’t long before Tigris caught on and politely inquired.

“I don’t understand him, Tigris. I think he hates me.” You sighed.

“What? No, he could never. He has a soft spot for you, really, and I have it on good authority.”

“I’m not so sure anymore. I think I’ve pushed it a little far this time. I think… maybe we both did. I’m in uncharted waters, here.”

“Look, I know I don’t know all the ins and outs of how this thing between you works, but I don’t think he could ever hate you for doing anything. Coryo – I mean, Coriolanus, he does care, contrary to popular belief. It’s just that his way of showing it can get a little…”

“Fucked?” You offered, and she laughed.

“Yes, exactly. Now, I’m not going to lie to you and say that he’s an angel on earth, he’s had to do things to get to where he is now. Things that even I don’t know the extent of, and they’ve… changed him.”

You rarely got the chance to speak with Tigris alone these days, with Snow usually playing chaperone, or keeping one or the both of you busy, but it had always been easy to slide right back into conversation with her like you’d never been apart.

You’d first met Tigris at a Plinth gala years ago, on the same day you’d met Snow. The two of you had talked and laughed and she had an easiness around her, she wasn’t shallow and judgemental like a lot of the girls you’d grown up with, though you never knew why until many months later. Snow had placed a large wall between his life before the Plinth endorsement, and after. Few people knew the conditions he’d grown up in, but after countless hours with Tigris, you’d begun to assemble small pieces. Despite your closeness with her, you knew from her warnings that Snow had a sort of temper when it came to this topic, so you approached it with caution.

“Changed him how?” You inquired, finally.

“Well… It wasn’t always fancy balls and lunches with him. It never was, with any of us, as you know, but especially for him. He’s… had a different experience. Grandma’am and I, we’ve known hard times, but we haven’t seen what he’s seen. Not even close.”

“What kind of things?”

She glanced over her shoulder, making sure nobody was hovering.

“He’d kill me for telling you.”

“You know I won’t say a word. But you don’t have to tell me, if it’s too much to ask.”

She took in a breath, and sipped her drink, voice dropping to a whisper.

“This stays between us, okay? Coriolanus has… been out there. In the districts, I mean. Before all this. And I can’t go into detail, he’d have my head if I…”

You swallowed.

“The districts? But… why? I don’t-”

“Tigris, lovely to see you, it’s been so long.” A male voice interrupted, and you quickly excused yourself, slipping away to let the two of them talk.

After mulling it over in your head and making small talk with a few more guests, you snuck out of a side door and into the hallways, winding upstairs until you were finally met with Snow’s bedroom door. The sound of voices and music a mere echo below you, you pushed tentatively, and stepped inside. It was strange, being in there alone, for the first time since he’d turned you away. But you paced the floor, looking for something, anything, that would answer the questions you had. Why the districts? Why couldn’t Tigris tell you what had happened there?

Glancing back at the door, you began thumbing through his closet, peeking inside drawers. You’d already given his room a once over, but you worked more meticulously this time, every corner you unsuccessfully turned over only fuelling your curiosity. You walked around the room again, getting frustrated.

You headed back to the door, scanning the place, and retraced your steps a third time. Knocking a little on cupboards and anything that appeared the slightest bit odd or out of place. It was a perpetually tidy room, neat as ever, save for the desk which contained folders you were sure weren’t for your eyes, but that didn’t stop you. You kept on, trying your best not to leave any stone unturned, and most importantly, trying not to move anything out of place.

Eventually, you moved to the smaller desk drawers again, rifling through them haphazardly, annoyed by the lack of evidence you were finding. One of the two drawers had very little inside it, just a pencil and a pocket dictionary, and as you pushed your hand further inside to feel for anything else, you noticed it felt smaller than the first. Shallower. When you knocked, it was hollow.

It had a false bottom.

Your father used to keep his cigars beneath one of these when you were growing up, so you knew what to look for. You felt around the edge until you touched a small, metal handle, then emptied the drawer, hooked your fingers into the handle and pulled. You frowned at first, there was less in the hidden compartment than there was above it. But you peered inside, and there lay two items: an old photograph, and a silver dog tag.

Suddenly, it all made sense. His efficiency, his drive, his orderliness.

Military. The districts. The dog tag.

You unfolded the photograph, caked in a layer of dust, and it hit you like a ton of rocks.

Coriolanus was a peacekeeper.

But why? When? And why keep it a secret?

In the photograph, his hair was buzzed, and he was in a uniform you recognised immediately; if only because of the annual reaping ceremony shown in every building in the Capitol. He was standing next to a boy with dark hair, also buzzed. You recognised him as Sejanus Plinth, you’d never met the kid but you’d been to his funeral with your family, and had seen enough pictures to know.

You knew that the Plinth family had backed Coriolanus’ education, that he became their new heir, a protégé of sorts, but not that he’d been friends with their son. Not that they’d been this close, at least. They weren’t smiling in the photo, stood pin straight and alert in what looked like barracks.

You folded the photograph and placed it back where you found it. Your hands lingered on the dog tag, though, despite the logical side of your brain screaming at you to put it back, leave the room and pretend you didn’t see this. But the louder part egged you on as you pulled it out of the drawer, examining the engraved words, running your hands over the name SNOW and, further down, DISTRICT 12.

You’d heard bedtime stories from your mother while growing up, about the war, the Hunger Games and why they existed, and why it was never safe to set foot in the districts, not even the richer ones.

They’re beneath us, she’d said. They’re dangerous. Barbaric. And 12 was notoriously the poorest, most dangerous of them all.

Coriolanus had now become more of an enigma to you than ever before, and a thousand new questions flooded your head.

You closed the drawer halfway, holding the chain, pulling out a chair in front of the mirror to sit down. You turned the tag over in your hands, as if it would start giving you the answers, if only you looked hard enough.

Why was he sent to 12? Why couldn’t he talk about it?

Despite the conditions Snow grew up in, there was respect behind his family name. It didn’t make sense why someone of his social standing and education would leave to be a peacekeeper, of all things, and in 12, of all places. A strange sort of pity filled you, wondering what he could’ve seen out there. What he could’ve done. It all drew you in as you got lost in a world of what ifs.

Despite yourself, you pushed your hair from your neck, and as if in a trance, wrapped the chain around it. It fell heavy and cold against your skin, sending a chill through your bones. You were so busy staring down at it, so lost in thought that you barely noticed the sound of the door pushing open. Or the floorboards lightly creaking. Or his reflection in the mirror. You didn’t notice any of that, until the door swung shut with a bang.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Coriolanus had had a long day, most of which he’d spent simmering over work and you. He’d kept his eye on you that evening; on the way you’d thrown yourself into Tigris’ arms, and talked, transfixed, and he hated not knowing what was being said. A strange feeling set in as he saw the two of you get deeper into conversation from the other side of the large room, a deep-seated uneasiness stirring him up as he drowned out the tales of his associates’ incompetence. It felt like a breath of relief when he sent someone your way to interrupt whatever talk you were having, pretending that Tigris had been looking for him earlier. He focused on your brief tour of the room when the distraction worked, eyes flitting around like you were preoccupied.

When he saw you dart away from the ballroom and up one of the stairwells, he followed you as soon as he got the chance.

He’d wondered if you might act up today, but this wasn’t what he was expecting. When he saw you, the all too familiar glint of silver around your pretty neck, something shifted in him. Something he’d done a very, very good job of keeping at bay during his first few years of presidency.

Rage.

Your eyes met his in the mirror.

“Coriolanus, I-”

His hands were on you before you could finish your sentence, hauling you out of the chair, fingers wrapped in a death grip around your arms, squeezing as he pushed you to the wall with a satisfying thud.

“What, you can explain? I highly doubt that.”

“I’m sorry, I just-” You gasped as he squeezed tighter, gripping your wrists.

“Do you even know what this means?” He seethed, dog tag pressed between his fingers, chain pulling at your neck.

The forest. The birds. The gunshots that deafened him for weeks.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry. I never knew you were a peacekeeper, Coryo, I-” He flinched, saw the way you winced the second it passed your lips.

Snow may have been cold, but his eyes were fire. And you were only stoking it.

“So I’m Coryo now? Who the fuck told you call me that? Was it Tigris? I saw you talking to her, don’t lie to me.”

“No.” You shook your head. “She didn’t tell me anything, I promise. Please. It was just me.”

He moved in closer, eclipsing you altogether, grip on the chain so tight he was certain you’d be able to feel it pinching the back of your neck, digging a mark into your flesh. He let the sadistic part of his brain take delight in it, in the way your eyes widened, face pleading.

Whatever this game was between you, you’d gone too far this time.

“How did you find this?” He snapped.

You were crowded against the wall, unable to move. Tears started to brim, and you didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure you could. You just shook your head over and over, repeating I’m sorry like a broken record.

“Take this off. Now. Take it off.” He ordered, dropping it back to your chest, stepping away a little so you could lift your shaking arms over your head, removing the chain. He snatched it from you, gripping it in his palm, looking down at it, and you breathed out in relief.

“I didn’t mean to… I was just looking. I had so many questions. I didn’t know what I’d find.”

“And? Are you fucking satisfied now?” His voice chilled you to the bone as he looked up at you again.

You shook your head. Apologised again. Wished you could apologise in any way that would matter, but it was too late. You’d never been more afraid in your life, anticipating what might happen, remembering echoes of rumors you’d heard, of Snow poisoning his enemies, of sending them to hang. Some you knew to be true, but others you boiled down to rebel gossip.

Now, you weren’t so sure. These were the eyes of a man who’d dropped his mask, and it was like staring into a dark void. You could get lost in it, and never find your way back.

“Please. Don’t… I won’t tell anyone, I promise. You can trust me.”

He scoffed.

Stupid girl. Hadn’t you learned by now, that trust meant nothing?

“Like I trusted you in here? I don’t think so. Can’t believe you had me feeling sorry for you. Probably just made it up so you could lower my guard then turn around and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I didn’t, Coriolanus, I swear.” You pleaded. You were crying, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’ve been very patient with you, little girl. But this is where I draw the line. You have no idea how far you’ve pushed me. And you don’t even realise it, you’re so caught up in your little crush. Do you know how easy I’ve been going on you? The things I’ve let you get away with… I’ve killed people for much less.”

“You’ve…” You trailed off, barely hearing your own words, barely processing a thing. He laughed, low and dark.

“Does that scare you, sweetheart? Does it make you afraid?”

Eyes frozen open, you just stared. You felt your jaw go slack.

“Good.”

Coriolanus toed an invisible line, one that had never been crossed before. You wanted him to show you he wanted you? Fine.

He looked down at the chain wrapped around his fist, but he didn’t pocket it, or place it to the side. He unwound it, and slowly pulled it over his own neck.

Your eyes dropped to where it sat in stark contrast, heavy and shining, garish against his fancy dress shirt. You felt your blood run cold.

“Get on your knees.” You heard him say. Your eyes darted back up.

“What?”

When he spoke, it sounded like someone else was talking. Someone you didn’t know at all.

“You heard me. Get on your fucking knees. Right now.”

What could you do? This was what you’d wanted. Just… not like this. Not when your hands were shaking in fear, and you had no idea what this Coriolanus was capable of.

Your head said yes; your heart wept. But you were far past listening to your sorry heart.

So, you obeyed. Legs all but giving in as you lowered yourself to the ground, knees meeting cold hardwood as the chill cut through your dress.

His fingers slipped under one of the straps.

“Take this off, baby.” He murmured, distant, like he wasn’t all there. Your head hung in shame, eyes on his feet as you pushed the straps from your shoulder, top half of the dress falling down. You heard his zipper slide down, and you shivered. No longer sure if it was in fear or anticipation.

“Head up. Look at me. Good,” he said, when you obliged, “now let’s see what this pretty mouth’s really good for, shall we?”

More tears welled up as his hand brushed your jaw, hooking a thumb to your bottom lip, pushing your mouth open. You couldn’t help the way your tongue grazed over it, tasting salt, whining when you realised it was the taste of your own tears. When your eyes fell open again, you finally caught a look at him, hard and tip weeping, and your brain filled with nothing but want, eclipsing your fear for a mere second, enough to bring Coriolanus to the ground again. He may have done terrible, unspeakable things, but he was still a man. A man who wanted you.

And why did that make your heart beat out of your chest? It thrummed like a hummingbird as you took in the sight of him, unbuttoning his shirt as he waited for you to move.

You’d seen how big he was from a distance. You’d felt him between layers of fabric, and you’d imagined this a million times over. But now, as he stood waiting in front of you, you hesitated, because it all finally felt real. Your mouth watered despite yourself, seeing the mess he’d already made, any more and he’d start dripping -

“Go on, sweetheart. It’s not gonna suck itself.”

Your eyes squeezed shut as you let him past your lips. The heady taste of precum filled your mouth as you ran your tongue along the shaft slowly, trying to start steady. He wasn’t having it. His hand twisted through your hair, pulling you in closer, making you gag a little. You instinctively lifted a hand up to his thigh to brace yourself, and he laughed.

“Giving up so soon? Thought you’d try harder than that.”

He pushed further, and the indignant sound you made as you adjusted only served to spur him on.

You tried to focus on breathing through it, but he slipped in and out your mouth unevenly, and faster than you could think, catching you off guard. He looked down at the way your mouth struggled to take his length as if you were a piece of art, like he was mesmerised by it, and that feeling was encouragement was enough to keep you going. His hand twisted harder in your hair, making a fist, and he swore when you hummed in discomfort.

“Look at you.” He said, strung-out and shaky. “You strut right in here from your silver spoon life, and think you can call the shots? You’ve bitten off more than you can chew, sweetheart. You have no fucking idea what the world is really like. What people are like. What they have to do to survive.”

He moved faster, and you let your jaw go slack. You were barely moving now, he was starting to fuck your throat like he owned it. You’d started to cry again, and when you looked up at him, it was a blur. The furthest you could see was his chest, shirt unbuttoned and falling to the sides, and the dog tag, silver catching in the low light, swinging against his chest as he moved. You closed your eyes again, trying to go somewhere else in your head. Trying to breathe through your nose, to focus on being used, on how good you were making him feel, on finally being his. It was all you had left to hold on to.

But he was unwinding you with his words, knowing just where to press to make it sting, to make the tears fall harder.

“You don’t have any fucking shame about it either. Touching yourself on my bed and wearing my clothes, like you’re – fuck, that’s it - like we’re married or something. Like you’re worth more than everyone else. But look at you. Maybe you were right after all. Maybe you are my whore.” he gritted out.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried desperately to catch your breath between sobs.

“I mean, you sure look like it now, on your knees for me, making a mess of your pretty face. So fucking good. You’re sucking me off better than she did, and you’re barely even trying.”

You hated it. Hated the way his thumb brushed painfully gently against your cheek, dusting away a tear as his cock bruised the back of your throat and you tried not to gag around him. Hated the way his words twisted around in your head, and how fucked up it was that your broken brain took it as praise instead of punishment.

Most of all, you hated the throb between your shaking legs, panties soaked through and probably ruined. Humiliation seeped through you as you imagined it dripping down your legs and onto the floor. Your salty tears spilled down your face, mixing with your spit and his precum. Hating every second, until your head went blank, and you didn’t feel much of anything anymore.

You weren’t sure exactly how it happened.

One second, he was pulling your hair, twitching in your mouth and spilling down your throat, and the next, in what felt like a flash, you were on the floor, loud, wrecked sobs spilling out of you as you held your knees to your chest, face hidden. He was on the floor too - when did he get down? - and his voice was soft, oh so soft and gentle, saying something you couldn’t quite make out, dull and repetitive past your ringing ears.

“- so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I know I - I didn’t… I took it too far. Can you hear me, sweetheart? Look at me. Please, look at me. I’m right here.”

You pulled your head from your hands, and through blurred eyes, you looked at him.

This wasn’t a face you’d seen on him before. His brows knitted, lips apart as he stared at you, like you were some wounded animal he wanted to save.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. Please.”

“I can’t…” You trailed off.

“You can tell me.”

Another wave of choked back sobs took over you. He held your jaw up like you were something breakable. Like maybe you’d broken already, and he was holding you together.

“I can’t do this.” You whispered. “Not like-”

He nodded, brushing a tear from your cheek.

“Okay. It’s okay, baby. Tell me what I can do for you. Just say the word.”

You caught your breath, and he flinched a little as you collapsed into his arms. The cool metal of the dog tag pressed into your cheek.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You cried.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t realise how far I’d pushed you until… I know I can’t make it up to you, but I’ll try. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. If you want to leave, I understand. I’ll make the arrangements.”

“What? No, that’s not…”

He cut you off, looking into your eyes.

“Decide tomorrow, okay doll? You don’t have to think about that now.”

“I didn’t know about… about the districts.” You hiccupped. “About you. You didn’t want me to know. I ruined everything, I-”

“Listen to me. It doesn’t matter anymore, I promise you. It’s okay, baby.”

You nodded into his chest.

“Here.” He leaned away from you, and you looked up in a question. He took the chain from his neck and placed it in your palm.

“You can have it. So long as nobody sees. You can throw it away, wear it around the house, whatever you want. It’s yours.”

You pressed it between your fingers. It cooled your hot skin like a salve.

“Thank you.” You whispered. Your head sank back onto his chest, and when you spoke again, it was barely audible.

“Coryo?”

He tensed for a second, but relaxed again just as quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

His hand brushed gently against your hair, and you relaxed into it.

“Of course you can.”

a/n: baby's first dubcon scene!! (screams cries and throws up bc navigating that was scary as fuck) p.s one more chapter left!! do we think they'll get their shit together?? who knows!! (i know)

taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii @tqmqkii @not-avery @natsgf @sleepysongbirdsings @hopebaker @darknight3904 @pemberlystateofmind @bxtchopolis @real-lana-del-rey @24kmar @louweasleymalfoy @m1ndbrand @coconut-dreamz @cosmicgyral @urfavevirgoo @mk15x @theamuz @ashy-kit @violante777 @snowlandstop @badbleep88

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#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow #tom blyth #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #snow x reader #snow x you #attention #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #the hunger games #x reader #x you smut

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diariesofthelover · 6 months ago

Text

A New Regular

synopsis: After his favorite bookstore in Gotham went out of business, Jason had to find a new one that he’d actually like. He decided to check out one a couple blocks down from his apartment in hopes that it’ll be a decent replacement, when he goes in he finds something worth coming back for.

notes: Jason Todd x reader, 3rd person pov, reader works at a bookstore.

Of course Jason’s favorite bookstore went out of business. It was a small store tucked away in one of Gotham’s less populated neighborhoods meaning that they never got enough sales and it didn’t help that their star customer was “dead” for a couple years.

Now he had to go searching for a replacement, god he had a strong dislike for that word, something that’ll at least be adequate enough since he knew that nothing could ever replace his original bookshop. Not with all the memories, the owners who knew him so well, the atmosphere, and that certain smell that brought him back to the last time where he actually felt happy. The place meant more to him than just a bookstore, it was a piece of his childhood that wasn’t tainted by anything, and now it’s gone.

His search began with another small shop that was only a few blocks down from his apartment, convenient. He wasn’t excited about this, no, he didn’t want to be doing this in the first place. His place should’ve never closed, it should still be there running and waiting for him, but it wasn’t which upset him more than he thought it would.

With a slight scowl on his face he made the walk to the unfamiliar bookstore by his apartment. Jason’s hood was up as usual, trying to keep his face away from people on the street for numerous reasons.

After a few minutes he made it to the possible replacement. It was nuzzled in between a cafe and a record store, fitting. It was small, smaller than the rest of the businesses on the block. With uncertainty Jason walked in, a doorbell sounded signaling his entrance. There were only a few other customers in the store, quietly picking out books to escape to, and no workers in sight.

“At least I won’t be bothered,” he thought to himself.

He headed straight for the classics, hoping to stumble upon a work he hasn’t read yet, practically impossible. As he searched through the novels he heard footsteps coming to this section, being who he was Jason was able to pick up on them several seconds before they got to where he was. When the steps came to a stop Jason looked up from the books to see who was near him now, was it curiosity, paranoia, or both?

What he faced was someone who was either an employee or an extreme book enthusiast as she was holding a stack of books that went so far up that her face was hidden behind the literature.

His first thought was to help, that’s the kind of guy he was or at least used to be, but he didn’t do anything as he looked away and went back looking for books to read. He wasn’t interested in meeting new people and talking to strangers anymore, even if they shared the same love for reading as he did. In fact, the idea alone made his stomach churn which is why he minded his business and kept to himself. People were probably better off without him in their lives anyway.

All of a sudden there was a crash as each book fell to the floor, the noise startling him a little.

“Shit,” he heard the girl swear under her breath as she squatted down to pick up the books.

Jason glanced over to her, she had a name tag signaling that she worked there as well as a defeated expression on her face. The longer he stood there not helping, the faster the guilt began to seep in.

God fucking damn it, fine.

Before he could even register what he was doing, Jason squatted down across from her helping her retrieve the dropped books.

“Oh thank you, you really didn’t have to,” she said shyly.

Jason didn’t respond, instead he gave her a slight nod as his way of saying, “no worries”. He was trying his best to avoid any eye contact and keep his eyes locked on the books but he couldn’t help but take a look at her face.

She was beautiful, fuck, so beautiful actually she may as well of come out of one of the novels she dropped. He quickly looked back down again hoping a blush hadn’t formed on his face, he knew that if he spoke now he’d stutter and make a fool out of himself.

She couldn’t help but steal a couple of glances of him as well. Her gaze went from book to him then back to the books then to his perfect face again. Some may have found him to look incredibly intimidating, most actually, and she did but she also thought him to be incredibly handsome. Maybe she’d been reading too much but he looked like he’d be a character from any of those classic romance novels that she loved.

Jason rose as he gathered the remaining novels. She looked up at him from where she was kneeling below him and to her he looked like god. Forget Austen’s novels, he was from a greek myth. His shoulders muscular and broad even under his red hoodie and brown leather jacket, his thighs thick with muscles hidden under the denim, and his height…well he was certainly tall, much taller than she. She had to be mindful of her facial expressions as she gawked at him for far too long.

He tried to make himself look smaller, tried to relax his muscles and hunch over. He didn’t want to intimidate her or scare her off. After being resurrected, his body began to change rapidly. Yes puberty kicked in but the lazarus pit was like an intense steroid resulting in him being huge, an absolute unit.

Sure, he liked how he looked when he was suited up as Red Hood but when he was without his mask and armor, he left like a brute. His size made him feel like some sort of monster. He didn’t want to scare good people away, especially women, but he knew he appeared incredibly intimidating to them all regardless of what he wanted.

And the scars, god that was the worst part for him. His body is scattered with them from all the fighting he’s done and violence he’s endured, his face not left unmarked either. As a kid, he thought they were cool, that it meant that you were strong and a survivor, now it makes him feel weak and reminds him of what has happened to him and what he became as a result. Each scar held a story, not the kinds he wants to be reading about.

All of these thoughts were swirling in Jason’s head as the bookstore worker looked up at him in what he thought was horror and disgust.

To his surprise she stood up with half of the novels in her hands with a sweet smile on her face.

“Thank you again, that was very kind of you,” she softly said still with a smile on her perfect face.

Jason hadn’t been called kind in awhile, it caught him off guard for a moment as a small smile broke out on his face.

“No problem,” was all he chose to say as he handed her the rest of the books.

“Do you need help finding anything? I practically know where everything is, especially in this section,” she let out a small laugh.

“I,” he cleared his throat, “I’m just browsing, thank you,” his deep voice contradicted his shy tone as he turned his back to her before she could see the blush that threatened to paint his structured face.

“Okay, well just let me know you if need anything, I’ll be around,” she said a little awkwardly.

Disappointed, she went over to the shelf behind Jason to do her job.

The two couldn’t help but look over their shoulders to sneak glances at one another, never catching each other in the process.

She only had one more book left to put away, Frankenstein. Of course, it was on the same shelf that Jason was currently browsing through.

“Excuse me, sorry,” she came up behind him to slip the last novel on the shelf. Jason stepped to the side giving her space, his eyes caught on the book in her hand.

She noticed his possible interest and stopped herself from returning it to its place.

“Oh, did you want to see this one?” She had a hopeful expression on her face as she reached the book out for him to take.

Jason read Frankenstein when he was younger but he hadn’t gone back to it since his death, he feared that it would hit too close to home. He didn’t want to relate to the monster, especially as much as he did, he wanted things to be different. He’d oftentimes fantasize about a life where he didn’t get killed or at least a world where Batman avenged him, these fantasies only screwed with his head more. Maybe it was time for him to really look at reality through a fictional lens, maybe it could help him figure some shit out.

Jason accepted her offer, his calloused fingers brushing against hers when he grabbed the book.

“Thank you,” he mumbled as he examined the new cover.

“I really enjoyed that one, it’s actually one of my favorites,” she beamed but got no response from Jason. She quickly grew embarrassed as she felt that he was bothered by her talking and overall presence. In reality, he wanted to hear more. After a couple of seconds of awkward silence, she turned away ready to leave him alone.

“Why’s that?” He suddenly asked causing her to turn back around again, his focus still on the book in his large hands.

Caught off guard she took awhile to respond, “The story, the character, well everything about it really I could go on and on.”

Jason finally looked at her, his cheeks heated but he didn’t care he wanted to talk to her.

“I’m listening.”

The pair went on to discuss the book that they both had a love for. Luckily, the store remained relatively dead and no one intruded on their conversation. Jason was mesmerized by the way she spoke and the way she thought. She was charmed by how good of a listener he was and his own takes.

For the next couple hours they had jumped from book to book, connecting pieces of their personal lives to literature, it was their way of getting to know each other.

He felt silly for ever worrying about finding a place that at least was decent. He ended up finding a treasure, one worth coming back for again and again.

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x female!reader #jason todd fic #red hood x reader #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x female!reader #red hood fic

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domm1etae · 2 months ago

Text

Possession

welcome to domm1etae's kinktober day 1 : SIZE KINK

hongjoong x f!reader

2.7k

when Y/N gets too close to a friend at a gathering, Hongjoong’s quiet jealousy simmers beneath the surface, leading to an intense confrontation as soon as they’re alone

nsfw tags under

m/f, top hongjoong, bottom reader, vaginal sex, rough sex, dominance, submission, size kink, possession, jealousy, dirty talk, power play, manhandling, orgasm control, claiming kink, breath play, control, pet names, kissing

Requests OPEN! - let me know through the ask button if you have any requests for this Kinktober

author's note: this was suggested by @arki-sha in my comments. here is the original prompt:

Possessive!Hongjoong + Size Kink I really think that HJ would really go feral if his partner is someone who is smaller than him like he would really use their size difference to his advantage since he can't use it that often to others since he is usually much shorter and smaller than his members.

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Y/N could tell something was off with Hongjoong the moment they arrived at the gathering. He was quiet, almost too quiet, which was unusual for him. She knew him well enough to sense when something was brewing beneath the surface. But Hongjoong wasn’t the type to cause a scene in front of others—he held his emotions close to his chest until they were alone.

The night went on, and Y/N found herself laughing along with one of their friends, a guy she’d known for years. He had a harmless charm about him, always cracking jokes and lightening the mood. She nudged him playfully when he made some ridiculous comment, not thinking twice about it—until she caught a glimpse of Hongjoong from across the room.

His eyes were on them, sharp and unblinking, his jaw set in a tight line. Y/N’s stomach flipped. She hadn’t meant to upset him, but she could feel the jealousy radiating off him in waves. Hongjoong was possessive by nature, especially when it came to her. He wasn’t controlling, but the idea of someone else getting too close to her—especially another man—always triggered something primal in him.

Throughout the rest of the evening, Y/N tried to engage Hongjoong in conversation, hoping to smooth things over, but he remained distant. His replies were short, and the tension between them grew thicker with each passing minute. She could see it in the way his eyes darkened every time the other guy spoke to her, the way his hand gripped his glass just a little too tight.

She knew he was holding back, but she also knew that once they were alone, he wouldn’t hold back anymore.

As soon as they said their goodbyes and got into the car, the silence was suffocating. Y/N glanced over at Hongjoong, trying to read his expression, but he was staring straight ahead, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel.

“Joong, are you okay?” she asked softly, already knowing the answer.

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, in a voice low and rough, he said, “Do I look okay?”

Y/N bit her lip, feeling a mix of guilt and apprehension. She hadn’t meant to make him jealous, but she also knew there was no point in trying to defend herself right now. Hongjoong’s possessiveness had taken over, and once that switch was flipped, there was only one way it would end.

The ride home felt like it stretched on forever, and the second they stepped through the front door, Hongjoong’s hand was on her wrist, pulling her towards him with a firm, almost desperate grip.

“We need to talk,” he growled, his eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and something darker, something possessive.

Y/N’s heart raced as she nodded, letting him lead her into the living room. His body was tense, his movements sharp, and she could feel the weight of his jealousy pressing down on her like a storm about to break.

“Do you have any idea what you were doing tonight?” Hongjoong’s voice was low, but there was an edge to it that made Y/N’s pulse quicken. He released her wrist and began pacing in front of her, running a hand through his hair in agitation. “Laughing with him, touching him like that—do you think I wouldn’t notice? Do you think I wouldn’t care?”

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but the words got stuck in her throat. She knew trying to explain herself would only make things worse. Instead, she swallowed hard and tried to keep her voice calm. “Joong, I didn’t mean anything by it. We were just talking.”

“Talking?” he spat the word like it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He stopped pacing and turned to face her, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “You were practically all over him, Y/N. And he was eating it up, wasn’t he? Acting like he had a chance.”

Y/N shook her head, her voice soft but firm. “He’s just a friend. You know that.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, towering over her. “I don’t care,” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “I don’t want him or anyone else that close to you. You’re mine, Y/N. Only mine.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as he closed the distance between them, his hand sliding up to cup her face, his touch gentle but his grip firm enough to let her know he wasn’t playing around. His thumb brushed over her lower lip, his eyes dark and full of that possessive heat that always made her heart race.

She could feel the tension rolling off him in waves, a storm of jealousy and desire swirling just beneath the surface. Her heart pounded in her chest, knowing what was coming next, knowing that Hongjoong wasn’t just angry—he was possessive in a way that made her feel both vulnerable and exhilarated.

“Do you have any idea what it does to me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “to see someone else touching you? Even just for a second?”

Y/N couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, her pulse quickening under the intensity of his stare. “Joong…”

His fingers slid down her neck, wrapping lightly around her throat. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make her feel small, completely at his mercy. “Do you know what I was thinking about the whole time?” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. “I was thinking about how I’m the only one who gets to touch you like this. How no one else can make you feel the way I do.”

Y/N’s knees felt weak as his hand tightened just a little, his grip commanding and possessive. She could feel the heat of his body pressing against hers, the intensity of his jealousy driving him to take control, to remind her who she belonged to.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation.

His eyes darkened, and a slow, predatory smile tugged at his lips. “Oh, you will be.”

Before she could react, Hongjoong’s lips crashed against hers, the kiss hard and possessive, his hands moving to grip her hips, pulling her flush against him. His fingers dug into her skin, not painful but insistent, as if he needed to feel every inch of her under his control.

Y/N melted into the kiss, her hands gripping his shoulders as his possessiveness fueled the fire between them. She could feel his jealousy in every movement, every rough touch, as if he was trying to erase the memory of anyone else being close to her.

Without breaking the kiss, Hongjoong pushed her backwards, guiding her towards the bedroom. His lips never left hers, his hands wandering over her body with a kind of urgency that made Y/N’s head spin. The second they reached the bed, he pulled away, leaving her breathless and dazed as he stood over her, his chest heaving.

“You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “No one else gets to have you like this.”

Y/N could barely breathe as she watched him, her body trembling with anticipation. She knew what was coming, and the thought sent a shiver of excitement down her spine. Hongjoong wasn’t just going to make love to her—he was going to claim her, to remind her of her place in his arms.

He undressed quickly, his movements sharp and precise, and within moments, he was standing over her, fully bare. Y/N’s eyes widened as she took him in, the sight of his body making her pulse race. Hongjoong wasn’t the biggest man physically, but right now, with the intensity in his eyes and the way he loomed over her, he felt massive.

He crawled over her, his body pressing her into the mattress as he pinned her wrists above her head. “You’re so tiny beneath me,” he murmured, his voice full of dark satisfaction. “Perfectly made for me.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she felt his hands roaming over her body, his touch rough and possessive. Every stroke of his fingers sent a thrill through her, reminding her of just how much control he had over her in this moment.

“Hongjoong,” she whimpered, her body arching towards his touch.

He smirked down at her, his eyes gleaming with that same possessive heat. “You crave this, don’t you?” he growled, his hand sliding between her thighs, teasing her until she was trembling beneath him. “You want to feel how much I want you.”

Y/N could only nod, her voice lost in a soft moan as he continued to tease her, driving her to the brink of madness with every touch. She loved the way he made her feel—small, vulnerable, and utterly claimed.

Hongjoong’s fingers ghosted over her skin, teasingly slow as he traced the curve of her waist, then down to her thighs. His eyes never left hers, dark with desire and something more primal, more intense. He relished this—loved seeing her smaller frame beneath him, her body completely at his mercy, helpless to whatever he decided to do next. Y/N’s breath was ragged, each teasing touch driving her closer to the edge, and he knew it. He was enjoying every second of it, watching her squirm under his control.

“Damn, you look irresistible like this,” he murmured, voice deep and rough, his thumb brushing the inside of her thigh, just shy of where she desperately wanted him. “I could lose myself in you, baby.”

Y/N whimpered, her hips shifting involuntarily as she tried to press herself closer to his hand, but he held her down firmly. The look on his face was all dominance, all control. She was his, and he was going to make sure she knew it—every inch of her.

Her mind was spinning, thoughts scattered as her body reacted to every brush of his fingertips. She had never felt so small, so overwhelmed by his presence, and yet it thrilled her to the core. The way Hongjoong looked at her, like she was the only thing in his world, filled her with an intoxicating mix of desire and submission. His jealousy had transformed into something powerful, something that made her feel utterly consumed by him.

“Joong, please…” Y/N’s voice was barely a whisper, pleading, but she couldn’t help it. She needed more—needed him to take her completely, to feel him inside her, filling her, claiming her.

His lips curled into a smirk at her desperation, and he leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. “You want me to give you everything, huh?” he teased, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “What if I want to make you wait a little longer?”

Y/N shuddered, her breath catching as his lips brushed her ear. “You know what you do to me,” she breathed, her body aching for him.

Hongjoong chuckled darkly, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “Trust me, I know. And I can’t get enough of it. You’re the only one I want to see like this.” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering. “I want to remind you that no one else can touch you the way I do.”

Without warning, he pushed her legs apart, settling himself between them, his hands gripping her hips with a possessive force that made her gasp. He loved seeing her like this—vulnerable, exposed, completely under his control. His cock was hard, pressing against her entrance, and he took a moment to savor the look on her face, the way her body trembled with anticipation.

“I don’t want you looking at anyone else,” Hongjoong murmured, his lips brushing her neck, kissing, biting softly. “You’re mine, Y/N. Just mine.”

“I know,” she whimpered, her body arching into him, desperate for him to move. “I’m yours, Joong.”

“Good girl,” he muttered, his voice sending a shiver down her spine. And with that, he thrust into her, hard and deep, stretching her in a way that made her gasp, her body tensing as he filled her completely.

Y/N’s head fell back against the pillow, her breath catching in her throat as Hongjoong settled himself fully inside her. The stretch was overwhelming, the feeling of him so deep that it made her toes curl. He didn’t give her time to adjust, though—his hands gripped her hips tightly, holding her in place as he started moving, slow at first, but each thrust deliberate, calculated.

“You feel that?” he growled, his eyes locked on hers, his voice low and rough. “That’s me reminding you how much you mean to me.”

Y/N could only moan in response, her body reacting instinctively to the way he took her, each thrust pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She felt so small beneath him, so helpless, and the way Hongjoong’s body pressed down on hers made her feel completely owned. He wasn’t just fucking her—he was claiming her, marking her as his.

With each movement, Hongjoong’s jealousy seemed to fuel his desire, his pace picking up, rougher, more insistent. He thrust deep into her, each motion filling her completely, the size difference between them only heightening the intensity. She couldn’t escape the way he filled her, couldn’t escape his hold, and that thought alone sent waves of heat through her.

“Joong—” Y/N gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he thrust harder, her mind a blur of pleasure and need.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demanded, his voice a low growl, his pace relentless. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m yours,” she breathed, her voice trembling with the intensity of it all. “Only yours.”

A dark, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as he heard the words he wanted. “That’s what I like to hear,” he murmured, leaning down to capture her lips in a bruising kiss. His hand slid down her body, teasingly slow, before it found its way between her legs. His fingers brushed against her clit, and Y/N cried out, her body arching into him as he started to rub slow circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The combination of his cock thrusting deep inside her and the pressure on her clit sent her spiraling. Her moans grew louder, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps as Hongjoong pushed her closer to the edge.

“You’re loving every second of this, aren’t you?” he muttered, his voice rough as he watched her fall apart beneath him. “You love how I make you feel—like you’re the only one in the world.”

Y/N couldn’t respond—she was too overwhelmed, her body trembling with pleasure as Hongjoong continued to thrust into her, his fingers working her clit with precision. She was so close, so close she could feel the tension building inside her, ready to snap at any moment.

“Come for me,” Hongjoong growled, his voice commanding as his pace quickened. “Come for me, baby. Show me how much you need me.”

That was all it took. With a loud, broken moan, Y/N’s body tensed, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her walls clenched around him, and Hongjoong cursed under his breath, his thrusts becoming erratic as her body milked him.

The sight of her coming undone beneath him, so small and helpless under his control, sent Hongjoong over the edge. With a deep, guttural groan, he thrust into her one last time, burying himself as deep as he could as he spilled inside her, claiming her in every sense of the word.

For a moment, they stayed like that, both of them breathing heavily, their bodies pressed together as the waves of pleasure slowly ebbed away. Hongjoong’s hands loosened their grip on her hips, his touch becoming softer, more tender as he gently pulled out of her and collapsed beside her on the bed.

Y/N’s body was still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm, her mind hazy with satisfaction. She turned her head to look at Hongjoong, and to her surprise, his eyes were soft now, the earlier fire of jealousy replaced by something gentler.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face before leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “You’re mine,” he whispered, the possessiveness still there but tempered by affection. “Always.”

Y/N smiled, her body relaxing into the warmth of his embrace. “Always,” she echoed, feeling utterly content in his arms.

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mountttmase · 9 months ago

Text

See You Soon

Note - coming to you slightly earlier than scheduled as I suddenly have a social life but I hope you enjoy this. I like to think of this as a colab between myself and @saltyheartnightmare and it was her original idea to use the TikTok I found for this. I hope you guys like it and feedback is always appreciated 🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 7.8k

Warnings - fluff and a tiny bit of angst and smut

Waking up next to Mason was your favourite thing in the world. Today though, you weren’t afforded that luxury.

The pair of you had moved into your new house about a week ago and you were still trying to make it a home. Things had been all over the place since your wedding just a month before but finally you were in your home and ready to make it exactly how you wanted it.

Tomorrow night would be Mason's first away game since you’d moved in and you could tell he was a little apprehensive about leaving you alone for the first time in this big house. You tried to reassure him that it would be a regular thing soon and you’d just have to get used to it but you couldn't deny you were also a little scared about it.

This new house was more than you ever thought you could have in a home. It was huge and finished to a high standard but when you were alone in the day you could swear you could hear and see things move. You knew Mason could tell something was up as you clung to him tightly when he got home but you just brushed it off by saying you missed him.

Mason was up earlier than you anticipated but after another night of him worshipping your body, you didn’t even wake up fully as he moved around. Ever since your wedding a month ago he was even more touchy than usual but you weren't complaining about any of it as you wanted him just as much. However this morning you needed to recover from the way he’d put you to the test last night knowing you wouldn't see each other for a few days and you ached deliciously.

It was around 10am by the time you managed to peel the covers away from your body. Knowing you needed caffeine to try and shake yourself out of the space you were in and after quickly getting dressed you plodded down to the kitchen.

You knew there was something different about the room as soon as you stepped into the open plan space but you didn’t realise how obvious it was until you went to the coffee machine. Grabbing a mug from the cupboard before finding a folded up piece of paper taped to the front of the machine.

‘What the hell?’ You whispered. Placing your mug on the side so you could see what it was and as soon as you opened it up you recognised Mason's handwriting immediately.

‘Oh Mase’ you breathed. Your bottom lip jutting out as you read over his note a few times until you couldn’t anymore as your eyes filled with tears that you blinked away.

It was times like this where you fell in love with Mason even more than you thought you could. He was already your everything but the way he proved himself all the time that he was thinking of you and trying his best to make you smile whenever he could melted you and made you wish he was standing next to you so you could give him a big kiss.

The excited part of you wanted to run around and find them all straight away but you figured since you were on your own for at least three days it would be best to space them out a little bit. This was clearly a distraction exercise for you and you didn’t want to ruin it for him so you made your coffee and took it up to bed with your note so you could read it over and over again.

You had some errands to run today, but you didn’t want to leave without finding at least one more. Thankfully the next one wasn’t hard to find and as you made your way into the dining room the bright bunch of flowers sitting in the middle of the table caught your eye immediately.

You could tell this note was much smaller than the last, reaching out with a giddy smile in anticipation of what he had to say to you next and just like usual he didn’t disappoint.

You were giggling like a schoolgirl as you bent to take a big sniff of them. They were bright and colourful and looked how Mason made you feel on the inside. They were wasted in the dining room though so you picked them up and took them into the sitting room so it gave a chance to look at them everyday before snapping a quick picture to say thank you to him.

You left the house shortly after with a spring in your step. Popping to the supermarket to do the food shop and then nipping to the bakery on the way home to get yourself a few treats for lunch. This afternoon you were planning to paint one of the spare rooms that you would be using for your office and after you'd eaten and put the shopping away you quickly nipped to B&Q for the last few bit’s you needed.

The whole time you were painting your office you couldn't stop thinking about Mason and where the next note might be. Knowing he must have gotten up extra early today to plant them around the house made you giggle but you also realised how into this he was and knew he would have some extra special hiding places for you to find.

Your painting took longer than you'd planned for it to, eventually finishing in time for you to make some quick dinner before your favourite shows started. You were messaging Mason a little bit throughout the day as he quizzed you about the notes and if you had looked for more but to his dismay you hadn't. You told him you were itching for a shower and would look before bed but thankfully for you, you didn't have to look too far.

Your bathroom was probably the last place the note should have been but you knew Mason had gone out if his way to surprise you so you should have expected the unexpected. As soon as you opened your cupboard to grab your skin care you were met with a glass frame that was closed like a book and the usual lined paper that was stuck to the front.

If anyone felt lucky in this moment it was you feeling lucky that you got to marry someone as wonderful as Mason and before you broke down in tears again your eyes flickered to the photo frame in your cupboard.

As you pulled apart the frame, you realised it had two sides, one containing a photo for yours and Mason's wedding day whilst the other seemed to have dried flowers from your bouquet pressed between the glass.

‘Oh my god’ you whispered, tears pouring down your face as you gently touched the picture of the pair of you having your first dance and you felt all consumed with your love for him. Taking the frame back into your room and placing it on your bedside table so you could look at him before you went to sleep and knew you wanted to let him know you’d found the next note even if you couldn’t keep your emotions in check.

Getting to marry Mason was a dream. The whole day you felt like a princess as the man of your dreams promised to give himself to you but you hadn’t been able to relive the day as much as you’d have liked as your official wedding photos and video still weren’t ready. Mason had obviously managed to get a hold of one though and the sweet gift had made you more emotional than you thought it would.

You missed Mason more than you ever had but you’d barely been away from this time. Telling yourself it was only a few more days but you were counting down the hours until he was back in your arms.

The next morning you woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed. Excited to go hunting for a new note before you got started on some more unpacking but it seemed as though the next note was a bit too well hidden so you gave up and went to have a shower and get dressed. Telling yourself to look a bit later with fresh eyes when you’ve had a think about it while unpacking.

The boxes you needed were in the garage and you were digging around in there for a little while until you came across what you needed and picked it up ready to leave.

The next note was staring you in the face. Attached to the back of the door so you’d see it on the way out and you laughed as you popped the box down to read it.

You remembered the first time you’d met too, you were only 18 and when Mason said you’d crashed into each other you’d quite literally crashed into him.

Being invited to parties at school was somewhat of a rare occurrence. You and your friends weren’t part of the cool kids in your year but you knew whenever Seb was having a party you’d be invited.

You’d known Seb since you were babies. Your mums being best friends that had magically gotten pregnant at the same time and whilst you weren’t as close as you once were, he was like family and you had a permanent invite to any party he threw in order for you not to rat him out to his mum.

You didn’t care for the people there, you and your friends sticking to yourselves but it was worth it for the free drinks and soon enough you were being invited to parties no matter who was hosting or where they were.

It was that time of the year though, exams were finally over and uni offers had been accepted. Most of you now over the age of 18 and able to buy alcohol and get into clubs but for one last time Seb wanted to get everyone together again. One last hurrah before you all went your separate ways and it was all going well until you caught sight of the last person you wanted to see.

Logan was in the year above, a popular guy and way out of your league but you fell for his charms quickly. You never understood why he’d gone for you but he had and the pair of you started dating shortly after you’d met. He was sweet and sensitive and made you feel on top of the world but right now you wished the ground would swallow you up.

You quickly excused yourself from your friends, wanting to get away and out of his eyeline and thankfully knowing Sebs house like it was your own meant you could sneak away and run into the utility room that was just through the garage.

‘Oh shit! Sorry, are you alright?’ You suddenly heard. Feeling a hand on your arm as the stranger you’d walked straight into tried to steady you and when you looked up you were met with a face you didn’t recognise.

A very attractive face you didn’t recognise.

‘I’m fine’ you managed to stutter out, straightening yourself up as he let go of you and you were thankful he’d managed to keep his drink contained in his cup and it wasn’t all down your front. You’d bought this dress especially for tonight and even though it was way out of your comfort zone you wanted to make sure you looked good. It was silky and tight and you knew any stain would show up straight away and it was the last thing you needed to look like a hot mess. ‘Sorry, I didn’t expect anyone to be in here, I wasn’t looking where I was going’ you tried to explain but his sweet smile made you feel at ease and you couldn’t help but smile back.

‘No it’s okay, I wasn’t either’ he laughed. Scratching the back of his neck nervously and you couldn’t help but find him endearing straight away. ‘You sure you’re alright? Looks like I’ve seen a ghost’

‘I’m fine, really’ you told him, trying to brush him off so you could get a few minutes alone and collect yourself but your mystery man didn’t want to let you go that easily. His big brown eyes looking right into yours and you were struck by how handsome he was straight away.

‘Can I get you a drink then at least?’ He offered. Head nodding to the assortment of bottles behind him and you sent him a small nod before telling him your usual. Most drinks were kept in the kitchen but the good stuff was kept out here and you smiled as Mason found exactly what you wanted with ease. ‘I know I’ve asked, and I know you said you’re fine, but are you sure? You can tell me you know. Nothing like spilling your secrets to a stranger’

‘Are you offering to be my therapist?’

‘Of sorts. I can’t tell you I have the answers to everything but i'm a good listener and I won’t charge you an arm and a leg’ he chuckled and you smiled back in amusement as he passed you your drink. ‘I’m Mason, by the way’

‘y/n’

‘Nice to meet you, y/n’ he smiled and you liked the way your name sounded coming out of his mouth straight away. ‘I take it you went to school with Seb?’

‘Yeah, we’re sort of family friends and I’ve known him since we were babies’ you laughed. ‘How do you know him?’

‘We used to play football together in the same academy before he got released’ he nodded, resting himself up against the cabinet so you decided to join him and he smiled as you placed yourself next to him.

‘Oh yeah I remember him telling me something about that once. He was so upset when it happened’

‘Yeah it’s tough, happed to a few of the guys’

‘What about you, do you still play?’ You asked, hoping if you spoke about him he’d forget to ask about you and thankfully your plan was working.

‘I do actually, yeah. I’ve just come back from a year playing abroad so I’m just assessing my options’

‘Wow, that’s so cool’

‘Yeah it’s different, glad to be home though’ he chuckled before bumping his shoulder into yours. ‘Anyway we’re meant to be talking about you, not me. Stop changing the subject’

‘You noticed that, huh?’ You laughed, rolling your eyes at how perceptive he was. ‘It’s nothing really, I feel a bit stupid now anyway’

‘Well you can’t leave me hanging’

‘Okay fine’ you gulped, taking a deep breath so you could tell him but to your surprise you felt at ease spilling your guts to him. ‘My ex is here and I didn’t expect him to be’

‘Ohhh I see. Bad break up?’

‘I don’t even know. He’s a year above and already at uni. I thought things were fine but he text me a few months back saying I distracted him too much and he wanted a fresh start from everything, including me, and I haven’t seen or heard from him since’ you shrugged. ‘Like it was so out of the blue but we’d only been together for around six months so i didn't take it too hard but it’s still a bit shit to see him’

‘It’s still a dick thing to do, I’m really sorry’ he told you, his brows furrowed like he was annoyed on your behalf but you sent him a small smile to let him know you were fine.

‘It’s okay, it is what it is. Like there’s not much I can do, I just feel weird. Not in like an upset I want him back way it’s more like when I saw him just now, I didn’t feel anything. Like…’ you trailed off, feeling like maybe you were saying too much but Mason's kind face had destroyed all your walls. ‘Sorry, I’m being silly. You didn’t need to listen to me rabbit on I bet your friends are wondering where you are’

‘No, y/n it’s fine-‘

‘I should be getting back out too, but I’ll see you around probably’

‘y/n-‘

‘Thanks for the drink’ you smiled. Cutting him off one last time before you got up and left as quick as you could.

All you wanted was to find your friends and keep away from everyone else. Be that your ex or your new friend with the pretty brown eyes that made your tummy swirl but you weren't having much luck. Your friends seemed to have vanished into thin air and you were walking around aimlessly until you decided to stop and call one of them in hopes they’d pick up.

You didn’t get a chance to hit call though, a tall shadow looming over you and when you looked up it was number one on your list of people you didn’t want to be acquainted with.

‘y/n? I thought I saw you earlier’ Logan smiled, but you were frozen in place. Not even being able to let a breath out as he looked down at you ‘listen I was hoping we could-‘

‘Ah there you are’ you suddenly heard. Looking to your left to see Mason walking towards you with two drinks in his hand and a cheeky smile on his face. ‘You left your drink in the other room, gorgeous. I got you a fresh one’ he smiled. Passing you a cup before wrapping his now free arm around your waist and kissing your temple gently. ‘You alright, mate? I’m Mason, y/n’s boyfriend. You are?’

Boyfriend? What on earth was he doing?

‘L-Logan’ he stuttered. Reaching out to shake Masons outstretched hand and the confusion on his face made you want to smile but soon enough his hard eyes were back on you. ‘I didn’t know you were seeing someone’

‘Were not exactly on speaking terms are we’ you bit back. Mason rubbing his thumb soothingly over your hip over the top of your dress and you were surprised at how relaxed you felt. Melting into his body as he pressed another kiss to your temple and you knew it was driving Logan mad.

‘How’d you guys meet? And when?’ Logan asked. An accusatory tone in his voice but Mason wanted to be the one to rain on his parade it seemed and you were pretty glad as your mind was blank.

‘It was Sainsburys, wasn’t it babe? Couple of months back I think. We were both reaching for the last tub of Ben and Jerrys but I got there first. She was so upset, like look at this face. You’d have to be messed up to want to upset someone this beautiful so I told her she could have it if she agreed to a date with me and thankfully for me she said yes’ Mason chuckled and you stared back at him in amazement as the made up story fell from his lips. Knowing you should maybe butt in and say something to make it more believable.

‘We made it official yesterday, he took me out to that new ice cream shop in town and we shared a sundae. You were so nervous, weren’t you’ you laughed, looking back up into his brown eyes but the bright smile he was sending your way relaxed you. ‘I have no idea why, there was no need to be. I said yes right away and would every time’

‘What did I ever do to deserve her, eh? Beautiful, smart, funny. I always say to her, her ex must be an idiot letting her go but if it means she’s mine now then I don’t care’ he told Logan. Resting his cheek on your head as he pulled you impossibly closer. ‘Sorry we’ve been talking your ear off, I think we’re just excited you know?’

‘Sure’ Logan grumbled, the annoyed look on his face satisfactory enough for you but when he finally made eye contact with you again you saw how pissed he actually was. ‘I need to go find someone but I’ll see you guys around’

‘Oh definitely, we’ll talk to you in a bit’ Mason smiled and with one last look at you, he stormed off into another room leaving you and Mason alone.

‘What the fuck was that’ you laughed, turning to face him but keeping close so he would keep his arm around you and thankfully he did.

‘Well I could tell from a mile off just by the look on your face he was probably your ex and I’ve always been a sucker for a damsel in distress’ he teased, squeezing your waist gently as he looked down at you with a smile.

‘That may be so, but you’ve sort of shot yourself in the foot a bit’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well you’re gonna have to stay with me for the rest of the night now, duh’ you giggled ‘if you leave me in my own he’ll get suspicious and try to talk to me’

‘Well lucky for you, I don’t see that as a bad thing’ he winked and you felt your cheeks flush. ‘Unless you want me to piss off?’

‘Nah, I think you’ve earned your spot’ you told him, biting your lip cheekily and the way his eyes flashed to your lips made your tummy flutter.

So you went and found your friends with Mason in tow and to say they were surprised by a random boys presence was an understatement. You quickly explained the situation though and they were more than happy to play along. Especially when Mason asked you all to join the guys he’d come with and they seemed more than happy to hang out with you.

Throughout the night you’d ended up practically sat in Mason's lap. His hands rarely leaving your waist as you got to know each other and you didn’t see Logan again that night. Whether that was because he’d left or was just staying out of your way you didn’t know but you were so wrapped up in Mason you didn’t care.

You couldn’t get over how gorgeous he was. Big brown eyes and a killer smile but it was his goofy personality and his insistent need to make you laugh that was really winning you over. He was cheeky and silly and the way he kept looking you up and down made you blush.

The only time you left him was to have a dance for a little bit. Still looking back at him often to find his eyes on you and when you slipped off to the loo you were surprised to hear your name being spoken by a voice you knew was Seb’s.

‘Oi mate, what’s going on with you an y/n?’

‘We’re just hanging out. She’s nice’ Mason replied. A soft smile adorning your lips at the fact he thought you were nice but you thought he was more than nice.

‘I know she is, but when I said there would be girls here I didn’t mean her. I meant the others who’s are just after a shag’

‘Who says I’m just looking for a shag?’ Mason retorted and you rolled your eyes at their silly conversation. ‘Come on man, you know me and you know I’m not like that’

‘Look all I know is, that girl is like a sister to me and if you hurt I swear to god-‘

‘Mate, I promise you I’m not gonna hurt her. I know we’ve been drinking and stuff but I actually really like her’ he confessed and you felt your tummy flip at his confession. ‘Do you think she’d go on a date with me?’

‘I mean I don’t see why not, but just know i'll be keeping an eye on you. Also if things do work out I expect a major role at the wedding’

‘You can be y/n’s man of honour’ Mason joked ‘I bet you’d look great in a dress’

You felt yourself flushing as they spoke about you. Thankful Seb was so protective over you and you made a mental note to find him later and give him a big hug but you didn’t want to intrude anymore so you left them to it. Bickering about who would look better in a dress and you tried to hold in your giggles as you rushed to the bathroom.

Once you’d finally used the loo you stepped outside into and empty hallway, only to be met by Mason coming out of one of the guest rooms a few doors down saying goodbye to whoever he was on the phone to and his eyes lit up when he saw you. Holding his hand out for you to take and when he pulled you into his body, you melted into him.

‘Hey girlfriend, I’ve been looking for you’

‘I’ve only been away from you for ten minutes’ you giggled. Letting him wrap his arms around your shoulders as you held him at his waist and the feeling of warmth and safety hit you like a truck.

‘Ten minutes too long’ he whispered, placing a gentle kiss between your eyebrows and you shut your eyes at the feel of it. ‘Come in here with me for a sec?’ He asked, nodding back into the room he’d just come from and even though you were going into a room alone with a boy you’d just met that night you still felt safe so you let him take your hand and lead you in.

‘Was everything okay?’ You asked, trying to make conversation to distract yourself from how nervous you felt and you quickly took a seat on the edge of the bed whilst he shut the door.

‘Yeah, fine. Just my dad wanting to talk about some football stuff but I told him it can wait’ he nodded. Sitting himself down next to you as he took your hand and threaded his fingers through yours. Sensing how nervous you were clearly but just the touch of him relaxed you. ‘You know when I came here tonight, I didn’t think I’d meet someone like you’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well Seb said there would be girls here but you’re so different to everyone I’ve ever met’

‘That’s because he didn’t mean me’ you laughed, remembering the conversation you’d overheard just before and you knew Seb was probably trying to set him up with one of the more popular girls.

‘Why wouldn’t he?’

‘Well I wasn’t exactly the most popular at school, or the prettiest. He probably meant someone like Kate or Jess. You know, the girls all the other guys wanted’

‘Well, funnily enough I have no idea who Kate or Jess are and even if I did I still think I’d have had my eye on you’ he winked and you felt yourself blush as you hid in his shoulder. ‘What? I’m serious’ he laughed, his free hand coming to your thigh so he could lift it over his lap and move you to straddle him. You’d never been in this situation before, alone in a room with a boy you’d only met a few hours prior but you knew you didn’t want to stop so you went with it and placed your arms around his neck as he held you at your waist.

‘Mase, stop it’ you giggled, realising you’d used the nickname everyone had been calling him for the first time to his face and you quickly hid your face in his neck out of embarrassment.

‘Am I making you flustered?’ He teased and you nodded into his neck when you felt his arms pull you to him tighter. ‘I’m sorry, love. But it’s true. Prettiest girl in here by a mile and that’s not me chatting shit. I saw you when I got here earlier and I thought I’d hit the jackpot when we bumped into each other in the garage. And anyway, forget all that. You're my girl for tonight, yeah? I can’t be looking anyone else’

‘Just for tonight?’ You teased pulling back to look at him and the pretty smile that took over his face made your knees weak.

‘We can extend my contract if you like. Depends if the terms are favourable though’

‘How about you take me to that ice cream shop we had our first date at and we can discuss it further’

‘Deal’ he breathed, but before you had a second to think he planted his lips on yours.

You'd been waiting all night for him to kiss you. The tension between the pair of you had been thick and now it’s like your bubble had burst.

He was gentle with you, keeping his hands planted firmly on your waist as he delicately brushed his lips against yours and you had to stop yourself from moaning into his mouth. Overwhelmed by the smell and taste of him and you almost lost it when you felt his tongue against your lips but you let him in straight away. Eager to feel as much of him as you could without pushing it too far.

‘I’ve wanted to kiss you all night’ he whispered when you finally broke apart for air, nose bumping into yours gently but you still didn’t have the confidence to look at him properly and kept your eyes planted on his chest.

‘Me too’ you giggled. ‘You know, I’ve never kissed a boy at a party before. Let alone be in a room alone with one’

‘Seriously?�� He laughed, a teasing tone to his voice and when he tickled your waist your eyes flashed up to look into his dark ones.

‘I’m a good girl, Mason’

‘Is that so’ he drawled, almost like he wanted to challenge you on it and there was something inside of you that made you want to keep teasing him so you carried on.

‘Yes it is’ you laughed. ‘I’m not that sort of girl’

‘Well-‘

Mason was cut off by the sound of the door opening. The pair of you quickly looking to see who’d interrupted you and to your shock it was Logan. His face bemused as his gaze landed on you and you knew your underwear was on show as your dress had ridden up but Mason was quick to move you to his side so you were shielded from him.

‘Shit, sorry mate I must have forgotten to lock the door’ Mason laughed but you didn’t hear a response. Just a grunt from Logan before he slammed the door behind him. ‘Well I don’t know about you but I’d say mission accomplished’

You didn’t take things any further that night. Sticking together still and swapping numbers before you left but he was quick to ask to see you again and you hadn’t really left each other alone since.

That had been four years ago and now you were newly married in your new shared home and it felt good to take a walk down memory lane for a little bit and realise how far you’d come.

You knew you needed to get back on track though, grabbing the box you needed to unpack and taking it inside as you daydreamed about Mason for the rest of the afternoon.

You had two more notes to find, and you were starting to run out of options of places to look. You knew you wanted to find one before bed and In the end you began looking in each room one by one until you came to one of the guest rooms.

It was still bare like all the others but a red box on one of the shelves at the back caught your eye. There shouldn’t have been anything in here so you carefully walked over to reach for it and your suspicions were confirmed when you saw the infamous lined paper neatly folded and taped to the lid of the box. You wanted to read the note first and not ruin what was inside so as carefully as you could you peeled the note away and unfolded it.

You gasped at the words on the paper. Breath stuck in your lungs as you couldn’t find a way to breathe properly but it was soon rushing out as you tried to stop your bottom lip from wobbling.

Mason had always wanted kids, you’d known it from your first date in the ice cream shop when you caught him looking fondly at a small child trying to eat its ice cream and when the pair of you were able to meet his niece Summer, it was written all over his face how much he was in his element. The twinkle in his eye letting you know that he couldn't wait for the pair of you to be in this position one day. In fact it was this very room when you were taking a tour of this house that Mason had picked out for a nursery and even though you’d laughed it off you now realised he was more serious than you thought.

The fact Mason felt settled enough with you now to try for a little one of your own made your skin tingle all over. The shaky breath falling for your lips and you couldn’t contain your smile at the thought of a tiny Mason to keep you company when Mason was away.

Your attention turned to the box in your lap next. Getting a better look at it to see it was a small shoe box and you couldn’t wait to get inside of it. Your eyes filling up with tears again before you’d even got the lid off but you were a mess by the time you had the little trainers in your hands. A matching version to the ones Mason had recently gifted you and you felt the sobs creep up your throat until they were mixed with your giggles.

There was one note left and it was driving you insane. You had the house nearly tipped upside down by the end of the day looking for it and it was still nowhere to be seen. Looking in every room and every cupboard and you were discovering things about the house you didn’t even know. The most exciting thing was a door in the back of your cupboard under the stairs that when opened had a secret staircase that made its way into your walk-in wardrobe and you made a mental note to ask Mason about it when he was home as you had no idea what that would be for.

It was useless though and you took yourself off to bed knowing you’d have the whole of the next day too look but it was bugging you that he’d hidden it so well.

Mason would be home later the next day and you wanted to have them all found but it seemed pretty hopeless until about mid morning when you realised your wardrobe was probably the only place you hadn’t looked.

It seemed like the last resort but you carefully opened every drawer until you came to your special underwear section. There sat a black box with the tiny note you’d been going crazy over and you quickly opened it with excitement to see what he had to say.

What? You wondered. Picking up the black box and thinking whatever it was was probably inside but you weren’t prepared for what you were about to be met with.

You noticed the colour first. A deep but vibrant red, similar to the colour of the dress you wore the first night you met and you carefully took each piece out and laid them on your bed so you could work out what mason had got for you this time.

It was quite possibly one of the most revealing sets of underwear you’d ever seen. The cups of the bra covered by just some lace that matched the sides of the thong but it was the belt and choker situation that came with it that was making you blush furiously. Thinking there was no way in hell you’d ever feel confident enough to wear it but thinking about the look on Masons face when you did made you chuckle.

If Mason wanted you in these when he got back then that’s what he would be getting. Jumping in the shower so you could get yourself ready for him and when you were in there you had the perfect idea. Wanting to play Mason at his own game but you didn’t have as much time to prepare as he’d had and you wondered if it was a little silly but you went with it. Even more excited for Mason to get home in a few hours.

When Mason finally made it home, all he wanted to do was dump his bags and go and find you. He’d missed your touch for the last few days and he’d been thinking about nothing else on the drive over from the airport.

Little did he know you’d have your own game for him to play and he noticed the paper taped to the door as soon as he walked up the drive. Smiling cheekily to himself as he peeled it from the door and eagerly looked it over.

He smiled softly as he read over your writing and as soon as he opened the front door he felt relaxed. Yes the pair of you had only been here around and week and yes it was still empty but he knew you were here somewhere and wherever you were that’s where home was.

So he did as you asked. Going to the kitchen first where he found a few slices of pizza that he presumed were from one you’d made yourself tonight and a fresh bottle of Pepsi on the side. Mason loved your pizza and would always beg you to make it but it wasn’t exactly part of his meal plan so you only made it for special occasions. It was just what he needed after his flight though and he took a giant bite whilst unfolding the next note to see what you had to say next.

He’d managed to finish one slice whilst reading the note so he took the next slice with him along with all his bags over to the utility room. Thinking this was just your way of making him put all his stuff away and not leave it dumped by the door as he always did but he went along with it as he knew it would take longer to see you if he cheated. He also knew how excited he got when he put all the notes out for you and he didn’t want to spoil your fun so he did what you wanted and made his way over.

Another note greated him there, this one attached to the fabric softener and he had a feeling you were about to ask him to separate his washing out but he still opened it with a smile. Thinking to himself he’d do it gladly if it meant it got him one step closer to you.

Mason was too excited to wait. Popping his bags on the side before rushing up the stairs and he knew it would just take one more flight up to find you in your shared room but he still did as you asked. Rushing into the bathroom to find the dryer on and a note attached to the mirror on his side of the sink which he tore down immediately.

He felt himself melt at the way you’d made sure he had warm clothes ready for him when he got back so he quickly rid the clothes from his body before reaching for the toasty ones in the dryer. A comfy pair of grey shorts and one of his baggy tee’s that he got on as quickly as he could so they were still warm and now he wanted to see you more than ever.

He was over and into the storage cupboard in a flash. Not caring about what you might be asking him to do he just wanted to see you and with each note he was growing more impatient so he stormed in and tore the paper from the back wall in hopes this would be the final piece of the puzzle.

Good boy huh? He thought, the term making him smile as he could tell what sort of mood you were in but he followed your instructions and went into the back of the cupboard where he found the door in question.

‘What the hell’, Mason whispered under his breath. Turning the handle gingerly and to his surprise it opened fairly easily. Light filling the dim room from inside and once it was fully open he looked up to find a set of stairs and an open doorway at the top with the light on in the room upstairs. ‘Baby? You up there?’ He called. Not hearing an answer exactly but the musical sound of your laugh let him know you were.

The thought of seeing you pushed every worry out of his body and he took the stairs two at a time until he was at the top where he found himself in your walk-in wardrobe.

‘What the hell, did you build a staircase while I was gone?’ He joked, rounding the corner to hopefully see you but all the air left his lungs once he had.

There you were, laid on your side at the foot of the bed in your silky robe that you usually wore for special occasions and he froze on the spot. You looked perfect. Not sure if you looked extra good because you’d made some effort or just because he hadn’t seen you in a while but all he knew was you made him feel like a kid at Christmas.

‘Hi Mase’ you whispered. Catching on to how nervous he seemed as he played with the hem of the t-shirt he was wearing and avoided your eyes but you wanted him closer no matter how blushy and stuttery he was.

‘Hi baby’ he eventually got out, eyes flashing up to yours for a split second before he sent you a lopsided smile that made your heart flutter.

‘Come here’ you told him, moving so you were now on your knees at the edge of the bed and when he approached you you cupped his jaw as he gently held your waist. ‘I’ve missed you’

‘I’ve missed you too’

‘You sure?’ You laughed, joking about the fact he could barely look you in the eye but he just laughed before looking at you properly

‘Sorry, you're making me nervous’ he whispered, his cheeks flushed but his eyes were happy and that made you smile too. ‘Can I have a kiss please’

‘Of course you can’ you chuckled, leaning in slowly for him to meet you halfway and the way he kissed you made your head spin.

‘Why are you so nervous, Mase? It's only me’ you whispered after you’d pulled away. Noticing he still couldn’t look at you properly and his cheeks and nose were a deep pink.

‘I think just after that note I left you with the shoes. I just wanted to make sure you’re fully on board like I don’t want you to think I’m forcing you into anything-‘

‘Baby no’ you laughed ‘of course I’m on board’

‘Yeah?’ He smiled and you nodded back shyly. ‘I’ve always wanted a family and I’ve always known I wanted it to be with you. I’ve wanted to try for a while but now you’re finally Mrs Mount and we’re getting settled in here, I just don’t think I can wait anymore. I know we’re young but I really think we can do this’

‘I think so too’ you smiled, nodding along to make him believe this is what you saw for your future too and the look on his face took your breath away.

‘You’re gonna be the best mum, I know it’

‘And you’re gonna be the best dad’ you whispered, watching his face light up before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You felt his hands fiddling with the tie around your waist soon after, letting him untie it carefully before he peeled open your robe to reveal the fancy new underwear he’d bought for you and even though you were petrified about being in something so revealing, the way Masons eyes flashed over your skin made you feel weak.

‘You fucking perfect’ he whispered, fingertips lightly trailing your body as he drunk up every last inch of you. Eyes all over your body as he whispered to himself about how lucky he was and you almost felt your legs give way until his hands snaked around your body to grip your bare bum.

He was kissing you soon after, slow and sexy like he wanted to savour every last drop of you and when he placed your arms around his neck you held on tightly as he grabbed your thighs and lifted you into the air.

It always stunned you how strong Mason was. Lifting you up like it was nothing so you could wrap your legs around him but he was sitting down on the edge of the bed soon after. Letting you straddle his thighs as you continued to kiss and as soon as you were in his lap you felt him hard underneath you.

‘The way I’m feeling right now I wanna put ten babies in you’ he whispered, making you giggle as he squeezed your thighs before pushing the robe off of you completely. You tried to respond but couldn’t, Mason capturing your lips again and you moaned into his mouth as he began to help you rock your hips over his lap. Feeling him grown beneath you but soon enough he’d flipped the pair of you over so you were on your back and he was hovering over you. Ridding himself of his T-shirt and you felt the familiar wave of excitement rush down your spine and to your core. ‘All I’ve been thinking about the last few days is getting to see you like this’

‘Well I hope I didn’t disappoint’ you whispered, letting his lips ghost over your skin and when he giggled into your chest you laughed along with him.

‘You could never’ he told you truthfully before finally getting to do what he’d wanted to do with you for days. The same Mason you’d always known and loved but a new beginning on the horizon and you couldn’t wait to finally start the life you’d always dreamed of.

Thank you so much for reading 🩷 I really hope you enjoyed it and if you could leave me a little feedback that would mean so much 😘

463 notes · View notes

gojoidyll · 2 months ago

Text

it's ok, i'm ok

(implied) simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader x johnny "soap" mactavish

cw | insecurities, depictions of facial scars (reader), mentions of being interrogated/tortured, open ended, may continue (?), etc.

sum | a mask protects you, and you're determined to keep it that way.

When you look in the mirror, you immediately feel a tinge of disgust. Your eyes racked over the scars that littered your face. There was one long nasty one, on the right side. It marred the skin terribly. It reached from the top of your eyebrow and down all the way to your chin and the scar was not straight at all. It was jagged, cut with haste. You could still feel the pain lingering there before your eyes lingered on the other scars. One was a horizontal line slashed across the middle of your nose, another perfectly symmetrical with your jawline on the left side of your face, and finally the last one. The one that was smaller than the others and cut across the left side of your temple.

The scars were given to you a year or two ago. You can’t exactly remember the date as the memories start to blur, but what happened to you was as clear as day. It was an interrogation, the squad you were apart of had been captured and slowly the enemy began cycling through every single one of you until you were the last. But you gave them nothing, even as they slashed your face up.

You could still feel your nails being pulled out, your nose being broken, your-

You shook your head and reached for your mask, the black fabric covered both your mouth and nose before you reached for your favorite baseball cap and fixed it over your head. It wasn’t a perfect covering, but it did its job. The job being to hide most if not all of your face from your comrades in arms. You learned all too well, that the men would much rather have a pretty face to look at then a scarred one (as you came to realize with the women in the squadron who … were not scarred as you were).

And as you got ready for the day and to head out to base, you wondered if you would find someone who wouldn’t care about your scarred appearance, but … you found it highly unlikely.

“L/n, meet taskforce 141, you’ll be joining them from here on out.”

The moment you get on base and being handed a new team assignment wasn’t on your bucket list, but you had no complaints. Your original team was already disbanding to begin with. Most of them retiring after they were rescued from being captured, but you decided to stay. If only to keep your mind occupied.

And even as you introduced yourself and met the tf 141 guys, you still had that ache in your heart. It wouldn’t be the same, but at least you will be doing something.

“So, L/n, do they call you anything else?”

Its when you are left alone with tf 141 to “better get to know them” when you finally come back to reality.

“I don’t have a nickname if that’s what your wondering.”

“Really,” asked the man with a mohawk, you already guessed he was the one called Soap, “they just call you l/n?”

You merely nodded, the words seeming to have left you. Which was another thing you noticed. A change that just didn’t sit right. You used to talk a lot, you always filled the silence, made things louder, brighter, happier almost. But now, you just meander with the silence in hopes that someone else starts talking so you don’t have to.

Soap merely grinned at you before reaching out and clapping you on the back, “well, then No Name, guess we’ll just have ta figure somethin out.”

At the mention of the words “No Name” you had a feeling that that was what your nickname was going to be. And as it turns out, you would be right.

“No Name! Come check this out!”

Fixing your baseball cap and adjusting your mask a bit, you trotted over to Soap, eyes seeming to bore into what he was looking at on his phone.

“Really?”

“What? Oh come on, you can’t possibly say this isn’t funny.”

You rolled your eyes, the action going unnoticed due to the bill of your cap, “whatever you say, Soap.”

And that was how the weeks followed. You trained silently with them. Soap being the only one who seemed to try and tear away at your walls, but nothing seemed to work as you were as silent if not even more silent than Ghost was.

Speaking of the man, he was probably the one you liked being around most.

He didn’t look at you when he talked, nor does he try to acknowledge you. Something that you found being grateful for. And when he did have to communicate something to you, his eyes never seemed to pry nor did his actions seem like he wanted to know more either. You found that you liked the little to no attention you got, and luckily when you are near the man no one else tries to get to you as well. And Soap? He tends to pay attention to his friend more too. Another thing you were grateful for.

Though, the brief simplicity you had gained and the happiness of blissful silence all seemed to come crashing down when a small group of women that shared the barracks with you stole both your mask and hat.

“So that’s what you look like…”

You were not amused when the women who you fought alongside with more than a couple of times started to crowd around you to get a good look at your face. It had caused your usual straight look to turn more down, the obvious hint of displeasure and anger clear on your features.

“Where’s my mask,” you managed to ask as you swatted a girl’s hand away.

One of them giggled, “we sort of hid it from you.”

You glowered, “where?”

You knew the question was fruitless as the girls scattered immediately the moment you started to get out of bed. And before you could make the move to look for both of the items, you chanced a look at the clock and almost let out a groan before holding in.

You had no time to waste on looking for either of your belongings, nor did you have any extras in your locker.

Today was going to be a shit day.

“What.”

The single word that left your mouth was more of a statement than a question as you stood next to Ghost and Soap, both who seemed to openly stare at you as the three of you waited for your Captain and Gaz to show up at the meeting point.

“It’s nothing,” Soap answered a bit too quickly for your liking, and when you shifted your gaze towards Ghost you immediately hated that fact that his eyes were directed right at your face. You instantly started to miss when he didn’t look at you at all.

“Girls in the barracks hid my mask is all,” the little information you relented was hopefully enough to get them to stop staring.

However, it wasn’t enough.

“Didn’t have a spare,” you managed again. But the stares they gave you was all you could feel, “know my face isn’t great to look at, once I get a new one or find my old mask, you won’t have to stare so damn much.”

And when Ghost finally talks to you, not at you or near you, like he really talks to you and sees you for the first time, your brain just short circuits.

“Why? You’re pretty to look at as you are now. Soap and I just don’t know how to act around a pretty lady.”

#cod #call of duty #cod simon riley #johnny mactavish #simon riley #ghost #soap #ghost x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #ghost simon riley #soap johnny mactavish #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #johnny mactavish x you

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slut4thebroken · 3 months ago

Text

tit for tat

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Fischer x dom!reader

Summary | Robert gets all bratty when you won’t deepthroat him, so you decide to show him how hard it actually is.

Warnings | Smut, strap-ons lol, blow jobs, deep throating, gagging, he’s a bit of a brat, praise, and a dash of dacryphilia hehe, he’s so fucking pathetic 😩🫶

Words | 1.1 k

Notes | god I want to ruin him so fucking bad

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 5: strap-ons

He whined loudly and tugged on your hair, forcing you down further on his cock. When the tip hit the back of your mouth and you gagged, you pulled back.

“Stop it. I won’t tell you again.” You warned, making him pout. You took him in your mouth again and he mewled as his back arched off the bed. While you mostly paid attention to the tip, you’d occasionally bob up and down. Every single time you went down, he whined and his grip on your hair tightened. For a while, he obeyed and didn’t try to do anything else, but when he pushed you down on his cock until you gagged again, you finally snapped and pulled off.

“No..” He whined, jerking your head back down.

“Do I need to tie you up?”

“Why can’t you just go all the way down?” He whimpered pathetically. “It feels so good.” Something about the way he said that— the way he made it seem like deepthroating an entire cock over and over again was such a casual thing to do— really irked you.

“Because, Robert,” he whined when you didn’t use a pet name, “it’s hard and I’m not in the mood for it right now.”

“Hard?” He scoffed, only getting brattier. “You do this all the time, how can it still be hard?” You stared at him, already coming up with a plan in your head, and you could see his expression slowly start to falter once he realized. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t think deepthroating was an Olympic level skill.” He huffed sarcastically, originally trying to backtrack to avoid being punished, but unable to resist giving you another bratty retort.

This would’ve been when you punished him— maybe ruined his orgasm or spanked his cock until he came… but you had a far better idea.

When you suddenly got up, he whined brattishly. “Where are you going?” He pouted, watching you walk to the closet where all of the sex toys were stored. You ignored him and grabbed the strap, as well as a dildo that was just a little bit smaller than Robert’s cock. “I thought we weren’t gonna do that today.” He didn’t necessarily sound upset, just a little caught off guard that oral was suddenly turning into pegging. Still ignoring him, you walked back over and put everything on, then grabbed his hair and dragged him off the bed, making him cry out. Once he was kneeling at your feet, you kept a firm grip on his hair and pulled his head closer so he was right in front of the strap.

“Suck.” You said plainly. His brows scrunched together and he looked between you and the dildo.

“But I wanna come.” He frowned.

Tightening your grip on his hair, you lowered your voice into something more menacing, “Suck or you’ll be wearing the cage for a week.” His frown deepened and you could tell he wanted to protest, but he just huffed and shuffled closer to you. He grabbed the base of the dildo and reluctantly wrapped his lips around the tip, starting to suck slowly.

When you saw his free hand reach down to start touching his own cock, you jerked his head back by his hair, making him hiss in pain. “Hands behind your back.” You ordered, and he huffed again, all but rolling his eyes. He put his hands behind his back and started bobbing up and down slowly, not even reaching halfway.

“Take it all the way down.” You said sternly.

He pulled back and looked up at you with a pout. “Can’t...” He whined pathetically, no doubt trying to guilt trip you into changing your mind.

“What’s your color?”

“…Green.” He muttered.

“Then fucking learn.” Your voice was significantly more harsh than just a second ago and you started guiding him back on the dildo before he could protest. He went down and tried to go back up, but you kept him in place, slowly pushing him down even more. When he gagged, you finally let him pull off to catch his breath. “C’mon,” you demanded, jerking his head impatiently, “go all the way down, it feels so good.” You said dryly and he immediately frowned when you mocked his previous words.

“I said I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care. Suck.”

You forced him back down and adjusted your grip to have both hands holding his head instead. He gagged again and tried to pull off, but you kept pushing him down, trying to breach his throat barrier. When he coughed and sputtered, instinctively bringing his hands up to push at your thighs, you let him have another break. A string of saliva connected his lips to the dildo and you could already see the tears in his eyes.

“I don’t know why you’re struggling so much. It’s not like deepthroating is an Olympic level skill.” You sneered, pulling him back down on the dildo again. You were determined to actually get it all the way in, so you continued pulling him down. “This would be a lot easier if I could actually feel where it was in your mouth…” You muttered to yourself, then addressed him directly, “Relax your throat, angel.”

He gagged and sputtered, tears streaming down his cheeks and saliva rolling down his chin and the toy. Just when you were about to give him another break, the dildo popped past his throat barrier and the gentle force you were using made him go all the way down, his face hitting your pelvis.

“Oh good boy.” You moaned, bending over a little and wrapping your arms around his head, holding him firmly in place as he struggled. “Hold it, baby. Just a little longer.” He let out a strangled sound that was muffled by the dildo and squeezed your thighs, digging his nails into them. After another moment, you finally let him pull away and he coughed almost violently, taking in ragged breaths.

“That was so good, angel.” You said softly, using one hand to pet his hair, trying to soothe him. “Can you tell me your color?” The way he kept coughing and breathing heavily made you start to worry that you went too far.

He finally calmed down and cleared his throat to speak, looking up at you with teary eyes, his lashes even prettier all wet. “Green… ‘m sorry.” You cooed and brought your hand down to cup his cheek, tilting his head up to face you.

“I know. I think a little more of this will make us even, hm?” It definitely would not make up for all the times you’ve deepthroated him since you started dating, but it wasn’t really about that. When he nodded, your lips curled up into a small smile and you brushed your thumb over his bottom lip that was still lightly coated in his spit. “Good boy.”

#robert fischer smut #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer #inception #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #cillian murphy

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odiesdayoff · 3 months ago

Text

Kinktober: Tommy Shelby

Pair: Modern!Thomas Shelby x fem!reader

Summary: Your roommate's father doesn't approve of your vape.

Warning: Age Gap/Best friend's father/Dubious Consent/Tom makes reader get high

“I found it!” You yelled from across the dorm, your head poking out from behind the bed. Still partially stuck between the bed and the wall, you held up your strawberry-flavored weed pen to show Charlie. The amount of anxiety that losing it gave you was enough to realize that you and your roommate may have gotten a bit too reliant on the drug.

You brought the pen to your mouth, but Charlie slapped it from your hand. “Dude, my family will be here in minutes! It can’t smell like Ganja Gooch in here.”

“What? You don’t have weed up in Birmingham?” You laughed. From what you knew about his family, they weren’t the most…clean cut people in the world. Why would they be upset over something so trivial as a weed pen? In your two years of being best friends with Charlie, you’d never met his parents. Only his Aunt Ada, who was sweet.

He placed the pen on your dresser. “Shut up. When are you parents coming?”

Most of the already small dorm room was covered in boxes, trash bags, and miscellaneous crap. “At 5. You’ll probably be moved out by then.” You pocketed the pen and began folding your bedding to shove it into the box it originally came in.

His phone started to ring. “That’s my mum. Are you sure you can’t go to Mary’s dorm?” You still weren’t sure of the reason that he was so cagey about his family. He had been to your house over Spring break this year and you were still in the dark.

“I have to finish packing.” It wasn’t a lie, you had put off packing until the final day. Studying for exams and final papers took up all of your free time. That and Mario Kart.

You knew that Charlie came from a rich family, but this was a new level that you haven't seen before. His father dressed like he was from the 1920’s or something, with a full suit and peaky cap. You could smell the cigarette smoke infused into his clothes before you could see him.

His mother (or maybe step-mother, you weren’t sure) wore an elegant dress that was both fashionable and functional. Her deep brown hair was curled and pinned back. Her eyes lit up at the sight of you. “You must be the infamous Y/n!” She pulled you into a hug and you could smell her perfume mixed with a bit of her husband’s smoke. “You’re even prettier in person than in those silly Instagram photos Charlie posts.”

“It’s really lovely to meet you, Mrs. Shelby. I can’t believe we’ve been friends for so long and have never met before.” Charlie was still holding the door open for his little sister, Ruby, and didn’t hear your diss.

She waved you off. “Call me Lizzie, dear. This is Thomas.” She pulled the sleeve of her husband and made him face you. He barely looked at you, though you did notice the way his eyes lowered down your body.

“I still don’t see why we had to be the ones to move Charles out, Lizzie. We can pay people for that.” Lizzie rolled her eyes. Why couldn’t he understand sentimentality and actually being present in the pivotal moments of his only son’s life? He only had one more year of university left. It was strange to hear him be called Charles. It felt all too fancy for someone so…normal. I suppose his father wouldn’t say the same.

Lizzie scoffed. “Just start moving boxes, Tom.” She turned back to you. “So, where are you from?”

You decided to ignore Thomas. “Norwich.”

Charlie handed a smaller bag to Ruby while Thomas took a storage container. He pulled out his ID and opened the front door for the three of them. “The elevator’s already broken, so it’s lucky we’re on the first floor.”

Having Charlie’s side of the room empty was a surreal sight. So many memories that were made in the room were basically erased at this point.

You took the pen and opened a window, taking it in and blowing it out the window. “And here I thought you were little miss sunshine.” You began to cough and gasp for fresh air at the sudden voice. Turning around, you locked eyes not with Charlie, but with his father.

Smoke billowed from your mouth. “Mr. Shelby- I…thought you all had left.” You rasped out the words, reaching for a water bottle to try and soothe your throat. He smirked at your attempt to hide your distress.

“My wife left her purse. I see you didn’t waste a second with your…” He snatched the pen from your hand. “What is this? Can’t you get real weed here?”

“It’s easier to manage. And rechargeable.” He examined the pen, shaking his head. He brought the pen to his lips and took a hit. The smoke left his mouth in a way you’d never seen before. It was skilled, he didn’t even cough. It formed into rings that blew in your direction.

“Can barely taste it. How much weed is actually in this?” He examines the pen, and then his glance shifts towards you. "I bet you can barely take it, yeah?"

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not that intolerant. I've been high before."

He tosses it to you. "Suck in until it blinks."

It was a bit of a surprise that he knew what a blinker even was. He seemed like the type to exclusively use one brand of cigarettes since he was a teenager. As if he'd step foot in one of the fancy dispensaries you and Charlie were used to.

You maintained eye contact as you put the tip of the pen in your mouth and began to suck the flavored smoke from it. It took only a few seconds for it to blink and you could finally exhale. It was as if your lungs had never touched oxygen before. They screamed at you to cough, but you didn't want to prove him right.

"Another." He ordered, taking a small step closer. You weren't sure if he was getting taller or if it was just a mix of weed and perspective.

The vape was already hot as you rested it on your bottom lip. You breathed in again, holding it until it blinked. The taste was much worse and the sting against your throat felt like fresh salt in an open wound.

You coughed, only once. Typically, it took you much longer to feel the instant effects of the drug, but you could feel your hands already trembling under the eye of Thomas.

He nodded, finally close enough to put his calloused hands on the soft skin of your waist. "Again."

Something about his gaze and the absolution in his voice made it impossible for you to deny what he wanted. Your shaky hand held the vape up and you sucked.

His slightly chapped lips pressed against yours once you took the pen from your mouth. All of the smoke leaving your system funneled into his. You couldn't deny the way his contact made your knees weak and thighs squeeze together.

The weed was taking effect rapidly. Your head was spinning as you tried to focus on him. His lips traveled from your lips to your cheek to your ear. "Tell me, have you and Charles ever had sex?"

The words briefly brought you out of the weed and lust-driven stupor. You shook your head. "No...we're just friends."

He laughed. "Are you gay?" You denied. "Is he gay?" Again, you denied. "How has he not ever taken the chance to bed you?"

You could barely answer. His hand trailed up your leg and under your thin dress. Nothing could hide the heat that emanated from between your legs.

His free hand took the vape from yours and pressed it against your lips. Instinctively, you took a deep breath in, letting the smoke fill your aching lungs once again. "Is it because you're a virgin? Or maybe...you have an affinity for older men?"

You nearly stopped feeling the warmth of his hand on your leg until he pressed his fingers against the now-damp fabric of your panties. It was humiliating how much he turned you on...and how much the feeling of being humiliated by him turned you on even more.

"Mr. Shelby.." You coughed out, your throat sore and stinging with each syllable. As much as you wanted to scream at him to actually touch you, it would be too much to say at once.

Thomas Shelby wasn't a mind-reader, but he could read when a woman wanted him. He slipped his fingers underneath your panties and pushed into you. Your slick cunt welcomed him in without resistance at all. "Want me to stop? Leaving you high and horny while I go back to my wife and children?"

You shook your head no, silently pleading for him to do something over then idly have his fingers knuckle-deep within you. He curled his fingers, hitting the spots that your own hand couldn't reach if you tried, and moaned into his shoulder.

"Take another and I'll keep giving you what you want." Dazed, you sucked more from the pen. It was far more than you were used to, especially in such a short amount of time. Your legs threatened to give out, for multiple reasons.

"Please..." Your fingers lightly caressed his pants. It had been a while since you had anyone touch you, let alone someone like him.

He got the idea, pulled his hand away, and quickly freed himself from the confines of his trousers. There were condoms somewhere in this room, hidden in one of the boxes so your family wouldn't see that you even thought about something as evil as sex.

There wasn't time to look. You needed him now and it was only a matter of time before Charlie and the rest of them got suspicious. You pulled your panties down to your ankles and allowed his knee to settle between your trembling legs.

His lips trailed against your ear. "I'm going to show you a real high."

#thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #kinktober #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #tommy shelby #odiesdayoff

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lennadanvers · 11 months ago

Text

Three times Simon wanted to hug you (and the one time he did)

I wrote this for ao3 originally. I'm working on the final part, so I thought I'd start reposting here in the meantime. I hope someone likes it. I feed on comments btw. Just leaving that there.

Ghost’d had missions go badly before… No, scratch that. He had been part of missions that had gone terribly. Some he had barely survived. A lot had failed. That just happens.

Still, he felt like shit.

He was familiar with the feeling. He didn’t understand it, though. Everyone in his team had made it out alive. Even more than that, there had been only a couple minor injuries. That was a luxury he had learned to appreciate. Yes, the target they were supposed to find and bring back to base was laying, dead, on the floor of the helicopter. It wasn’t an especially gruesome sight, either. One shot at the back, most of the blood was still wet on the floor of the enemy base. Ghost had seen people practically turned inside out; this was almost as pleasant at it could get.

He had been dragging the target. The target, because they didn’t have a name. They never did. It had been a person. A very well informed person, if he had to guess, based on the urgency to get them back. Now they were a corpse. They had made the transition in his arms. He hadn’t even realized the target had bled out until they were already flying back.

Price wasn’t going to be happy, but he knew how the job was. Casualties were expected. At least the target wasn’t in anybody else’s hands.

Ghost looked down at his own. His gloves were dirty. If he flexed his fingers, he’d feel the stickiness of the blood. He knew the feeling well enough to be certain that the burning of the cold water of the sink wouldn’t erase it.

The movement of the helicopter landing made him look up. He jumped over the body of the target and stepped out. The sun didn’t touch his skin, completely covered in military grade fabric. But he felt it nonetheless.

His eyes, used to scanning his surroundings, had found you standing at the edge of the helipad. You were right next to the medics, ready to help save the corpse he had dragged here. Suddenly, Ghost became aware of every little sore and tense spot in his body. He had always thought you were capable. Your hands were smaller than his, more delicate- everyone’s were- but still ruthless and unwavering. He took a deep breath and wondered how long it would take you to get rid of all the knots in his back.

Your neck looked pretty, too. No, not pretty. He almost shook his head. Inviting. Warm. Your blood was close to the surface there, but still hidden. Where it belonged. He tore his gloves off, struggling with the stickiness.

Ghost didn’t cry. It wasn’t a matter of pride, or toughness. He had simply forgotten how to. But he started to walk towards you and felt the heat flooding his throat. The closer he got, the smaller you looked and the more pathetic he felt. His boots dragged him across the cement; yours were steady, still. Clean. He was covered in dirt. Another step and he was almost at arms reach. His uniform was itchy. He hadn’t noticed that since he was a rookie. And his holsters were tight, Ghost made sure of that.

Would you hold him tighter?

Would you be warm? Warmer than the target? You’d feel alive.

You’d smell of your shampoo- he had grown used to its fragrance in the showers: it lingered and overpowered his unscented one, even if you had left hours ago. It reminded him of warm, cleansing water. Of the feeling of being bare.

He shook his head. The mask was getting uncomfortable. Your skin looked so soft, though. He blinked. Your collarbone against his lashes. The idea made him inhale deeply.

Another step and he was next to you. You smiled at him; not a big smile, rather a small, confused one. Ghost stared at you for a second, the tears stabbing his throat. All he could do, head ducking as if aiming to hide in your neck, was to shake his head.

Then another step and he kept walking to his barracks: back still tense, nose still burning with the smell of gunpowder, hands itching with dry blood.

Part 2

#cod #fanfiction #task force 141 #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost cod #ao3 #hug #simon needs a hug #poor gigantic military man is touch deprived #and emotionally constipated

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ladylaviniya · 11 months ago

Text

Wails of Wedded Bliss

Chapter 3 || Masterlist || Chapter 5

Chapter Summary: Sherlock fulfils his husbandry duty and desires to play some more with your weak resolve.

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Period Sex, Blowjob, Bondage, Pet Names, Fingering, Forced Orgasm, Forced Pubic shave, Humiliation.

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes: This chapter involves description of period blood and sex, please be warned!!

Inspiring Song: "Copy Cat." Billie Eillish classic cover

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

6:39pm Tuesday 6th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

You had no choice. Not really...he was your husband and you were his wife. His threat of infidelity brought a great fear to your mental strength than your threat to murder him without a solid plan.

Oh how you hated him for this. You despised him with every sense. You weren’t sure how you’d be able to forgive him.

You knew he wasn’t a good or kind or even gentle husband, but a husband is meant to be faithful. And if humiliating yourself to pleasuring him with your mouth kept him straying in sin; by god you would obey.

You crept closer to him and slowly lowered yourself on one knee, then the next. Your eyes could not leave his face. A sick and twisted smile spread over his rosy cheeks.

In his palm was his half hard cock. His large hand made it appear smaller. The memory of its violent entrance had not been forgotten however.

It stared you back in the face. The pink head peaked up and out of his pale skin. His thumb rubbed over the pink head.

You felt cold and strange in comparison to your usual jitters. You fluttered your eyes closed. Your hands sat in your lap on your thighs.

‘He just wanted a kiss. I can kiss it...’

You leant forward and puckered your lips. His skin was feverishly warm. You pulled back fast and blinked up at him with wet eyes.

He chuckled meanly and touched your damp cheek in his other hand before moving his fingers under your jaw and guiding you closer to his cock.

“Lick the top with the tip of your tongue.”

Your lips trembled nervously. You weren’t sure if this was worth it. The thudding of your chest made you forget what he had asked.

Visions of the lewd novel in his chest flashed in your mind.

“P-pardon?”

His thumb pressed against your mouth, forcing its way past your lips and teeth. You knew better than to bite him. You weren’t an animal...you didn’t want a repeat of the night before where you had bitten his tongue.

“Stick out,” he pulled your tongue out with his thumb, “this little tongue.”

He pulled you closer by the chin and held his cock upwards.

“Lick.”

You whined softly and batted your eyes. Did you have the guts to do this? To truly perform fellatio? You didn’t really have the choice. You had to do this.

He let you go and waited patiently. He undid his cuffs and rolled the shirt off his shoulders.

“Are you so dim witted?” he gruffly asked, his fingers grabbed at your jaw after you took too long,

“Need I repeat myself once more?”

You shuddered and shook your head side to side. It was just so scary. Why did you have to have such a cruel husband!?

“No,” you licked your chapped lips, “I am sorry Mr Holmes.”

His eyes widened, his face softened but his lips smirked, “So polite, little lamb...”

Your lower half tingles with delight at the warmth of his sudden praise...

‘Little lamb, how do I despise it...yet feel warmth within?’

You pushed your face closer. You stuck out your tongue again and this time, glided it over his hot red tip. The gleam of your saliva and his desire shone in the soft candle light of a kerosene lamp on his bedside table.

You tucked your nose quickly back to your chest. You flushed.

Fluttering his eyes, Sherlock clenched the covers. His gasp on his breath was a sound of pain you originally believed.

“Again,” he said clearing his throat, “Come now, I grow tiresome to your reluctance.”

You wanted to spit at him. He knew you didn’t want to do this and yet still made you do it. You licked him again. His hand clapped on the back of your neck, forcing you closer and blocking you from pulling away.

You fell into him slightly, forced to need to grab his pant covered knee and thigh. Your fingers squeezed his trousers to stabilise your balance on your knees.

You looked back up into his eyes. Perhaps it was easier to look him in the eye instead of looking at the brutal beast between his thighs.

You opened your mouth and licked his cock little by little...his thumb pushed up your nose, opening your mouth wider. He pushed his cock into your mouth. His eyes were glued on you. He appeared relaxed.

His skin lacked any flavour. It was like licking your palm...but after a while there was a hint of salt in the taste buds.

You kept your mouth open, you kept your tongue out as he moved his hips in and out. His hand pushed you down and pinched you back up.

Your eyes remained only on him. He was grunting and sighing. A twinge of triumph tickled your heart. You were pleasing him! He would not want to seek out the unsavoury company of whores or any other woman overall.

He paused and leant down. He grabbed at your wrist and picked up his hand and rested your fingers around his length of his cock.

Your blinked and stared at the placement.

“Squeeze, and rub me up to the tip, down to the sack.” You nodded, his cock still rested on your tongue.

He chuckled and rested back on his hands. He waited for you to take over.

This was it. This is what would bring him pleasure. You cupped his shaft and moved the way you were instructed. You did it at a pace where he appear to struggle how to breathe. His words were nothingness under his breath.

He looked to the ceiling and moaned.

The skin was hot and twitched under your finger tips.

He let out a choking groan. The back of your mouth felt that harsh slapping squirt of his release.

You pulled back in horror. Your bottom slid across the rug. You weren’t sure what it was really. In fact you feared he had the audacity to piss in your mouth. You spat on the floor and coughed.

“Ugh!”

He cackled at the mortified look you had written over your sweet face.

He sighed and chewed his bottom lip. He slowly clapped his hands.

“Well done... Forgive me, I had intended to finish myself over your sweet breasts, little lamb.”

He cocked his head to the side and hummed, “Take off my shoes.” He lifted his foot to your direction.

You thought he was entirely despicable! You wiped your mouth with a growing glare. It didn’t go unnoticed by him, in fact, he took glee in your narrowing look..

“You wish to be a wife? Act as a wife. You want my loyalty? Well, you must be my whore...and whores suckle their johns cream with pretty smiles on their painted faces. Wives help their husbands undress from long days of work.”

You felt...weak and disgusting. You felt like an idiot. In your grumpy defeat you crawled back to him and began to unlace his shoes. In the corner of your eye you saw his hand reach back to his front and touch his thick meat. The looser the laces, you lifted your hands and rocked his heel out of his shoe.

Demurely you sat both his shoes aside. His socks smelt of his sweat and the filth of London street ways. You gagged and pinched the wool socks away from his calves and flung them from his toes.

A cramp waved through you and forced a grimacing groan out of your quiet misery.

Sherlock stopped laughing, his smugness dissipated. His face fell. He tucked his cock away with an annoyed sigh.

His hands unexpectedly tucked beneath your armpits and lifted you off the floor. He pushed you lightly onto his mattress onto your front. You felt your breath hitching, worrying what he would do to you. It wouldn’t be right for him to have sex with you during your menses.

He palmed his giant hand over your bottom. Hoisting your night dress up your thighs and over your back. He slapped one cheek lightly and chuckled at your cry and hiss. He grabbed your shoulder and held you down slightly. Your fingers gripped the covers of his top blanket. You had washed and changed this set. They smelt of a sweet lemon citrus.

His lips touched your bare shoulders. His hot breath tingled in your ear.

You flushed and squeezed your eyes shut. God it felt strange and ticklish.

“Look at this perfect little arse,” he admired, groping at the flesh, “Plump and ripe for a needed disciplining. Your grandparents let you get away with far too much.”

He slapped you harder. A scream bellied from you. Your spine curled up and you desperately reached back to scratch his bare arms.

“Stop it! Or I will bite you again!” you shouted.

The detective smacked his lip and hummed, “Ah that reminds me, thankyou little lamb.”

In two fingers he held in front of your eyes his cravat. He stuffed the material deep into your mouth and slapped you swiftly when you tried nipping his hand. Tears poured like boiling water.

He tied the rest of the fabric tightly behind your head. You violently shook your head and fought against him, you tried pushing away only to be shoved down by his strong hands.

He rolled you into your back and used your nightgown to tie your wrists together, over your hands. Your claws were contained from clawing his eyeballs out.

The bonds were pushed above your head. He attached a loose part of the arm of your clothes to the headpost.

He smacked your thighs apart hard. You shrieked behind the gag.

He tore the sanitary apron away and tossed it across the room. You turn your nose into your arm, too embarrassed to look at your husband who played with your body.

You twitched and tried to kick at Sherlock as his hand tickled down your side and between your thighs. The wicked man smirked as he watched your pleading eyes water. He pushed two fingers inside your red hot messed cavern. You felt ill. This was an abomination! He fingered you and held your upper body down, watching you like a hawk as you struggled.

His digits within you flexed and curled. You felt them touch along the top of your walls while his thumb rubbed down into your forbidden button. You whined and shook your head. He removed his hand all together. You clenched your legs back together.

“Oh my, Mrs Holmes,” he purred, glancing down, “You secret slut...this isn’t blood,” he held his fingers up to the light, “Why...this is arousal...”

His lips curled, flashing those pearly white gnashers.

Your eyes widened with horror. You were humiliated. Surely it wasn’t possible that you could be enjoying this? Why did he have to be so handsome. Why did your fear mix in with attraction so easily.

With the clear gleaming on his hand, with little pink streaks, he kissed your cheek and pinched

your nipples.

You shook your head and whimpered. Your legs were buzzing at the pain inflicted increased a desperate certain warmth within you.

“My was that a moan? Interesting,” he whispered cheekily.

“and if I...do this...” he asked as he shoved his hand back onto your snatch, rubbing in fine circles ontop of your clit. Your hips lifted and your thighs trembled. Your toes curled hard and your head rolled back. God it felt delicious and evil.

Amongst your lustful whines, Sherlock chortled happily, “How perfect you might be dear wife...I had no little hope for this morning, but now,” his nose shoved into your ear, “...oh you’ve just gone and damned yourself for good.”

He tugged at your pubic mane lightly, it didn’t matter, it made you squeal and howl in pain.

Your husband sat up and left the bed. Your arms were still bound above your head. You lifted your knees protectively to your chest.

“All this hair...” He tutted, “it shall not do.”

You heard him wonder across his bedroom. Out of his personal drawers he found a straight razor. He also brought forth the basin of water he had near the door way. With a cloth napkin and tiny sliver of soap, he returned and forced your legs down on to the bed. He knelt on your spread ankles and lathered your nether curls.

It was when the soap started to foam that you realised what he was intending to do. It was impossible to word the begging but he knew...you knew he knew what you were pleading out.

You knew how sharp a razor could be. What if he mutilated you!?

He glided the cold metal over your wet sensitive skin.

He licked his bottom lip as he scrapped away your mass of pubic hair.

“Hold still wife or I will cut you,” he scolded sarcastically as he went through the white bubbles.

Cleaning the razor in the water before returning it back between your thighs he hummed, “I am displeased you didn’t confer with me about the states of my accounts before deciding to pay them all off yourself. That dowry was meant for dresses, and necessary accessories such as calling cards...” he tapped the razor on the basin bowl, “now we must both rely on Mycroft and my cases for wages...stupid girl.”

The way he stared into your eyes as he held the blade up to the light...was he threatening you...was this...a warning.

You squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep shuddering breath. Tied to his bed and at his whim you were significantly helpless.

His hands took the towel and wiped your cunt clean of the hairs and soap still left behind. He whistled dramatically and smirked.

“My, my, what a pretty pussy you have.” He mused as he tossed the razor into the basin and moved the water bowl under the bed, out of the way.

His middle finger pushed inside. You gasped. The stretching intrusion took you off your guard.

“So tight still. I might need to train you to take me.”

He tore it back out and touched your naked clit lightly.

You gasped and choked behind the cravat. With deep moans, you wept pathetically.

“Oh look at that reaction,” he cooed condescendingly, he caressed the skin with his knuckle, “and all I’m doing is touching your clit. So sensitive.”

He licked his bottom lip and smirked, he pulled his hand back and slapped his palm across your labia. You squeal as the hot fiery pain rose up under your skin and spread out a dark shade with the rushing of your blood.

“Splendid responses to the nerves,” Sherlock noted before running the stinging flesh, you whined and turned your face into your arm.

“Bit sore I gather?” The man mocked, “Poor Lamb. All mine and bloody for sacrifice.”

A horrid in taking sound came from him. He spat on his fingers and pushed the wetted digits against your labia, dragging them down before sliding in home.

“There we are, squeezing so tightly around my finger, feels filling?”

He paused and listened to your heavy breathing behind the man made gag he had over your mouth. Listening to your ragged gasps and wheezes made his cock stir. You were so innocent and confused, he could see through your prudish and proper demeanour so easily. He fingered you until you were on the brink of insanity. Your eyes were becoming hazy, strained and almost crossed.

He thought it incredible...a true virgin. Not some pretender whore that his friend Miss Adler supplied. You were the authentic innocent.

“Now that you are properly tied up and without risk to harm me,” he whispered wetly, “-And decently groomed... I will complete our union.” He removed his fingers slowly out of you.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You needed to compose yourself. You wanted to pretend you were back home with your grandparents. You imagined yourself in the gardens with your cousins playing balls. Oh back then life was a struggle but comparing to this...it was truly childsplay.

You yearned for your girlhood once more before you felt him move off the bed a moment only to shove your thighs wider apart and sit the head of his cock on top of your naked hairless lips.

Here the devil had come to steal all girlhood for good and inflict the agonising curse of

womanhood.

He entered slowly. Clearly he had learnt from yesterday that this task would only be accomplished with patience.

Indeed yesterday would’ve been considered a consummated marriage...so why he cared so much to refer to this as a completion of union alluded you.

You whimpered softly and peaked through your wet lashes to see his invasive entrance breaking into you.

To say you were full was placing it lightly. This man stole all possible space inside. He left no pocket of air as he pushed along and settled within.

His hands were tightly holding each ankle apart.

You now understood why he touched you with his hands before...your slickness welcomed and slid him deeper into you.

“Oh, my poor little lamb, taking in her masters thick cock so bravely,” he praised and then laughed as you struggled against your own nightgown binded to the headboard, “unable to nip or kick back at him.”

You grew silent in defeat. You submitted to the chance of zero hopelessness. Your legs fell limply.

He released your ankles.

You were plagued in your own paralysis.

You felt like he was pausing before pushing more inside. He was huge. There’s not many you could compare it too as a recently deflowered woman but you were confident his size must’ve been abnormal. Even he winced every so often at the tight squeeze.

When his pelvic bone pressed against your cunt, he sighed, “There...truly man and wife...at last...” A small scoff was heard.

You said something behind the gag that caught his ear. It was too muffled.

He pulled the gag harshly down your chin.

“What was that?”

You narrowed your eyes at him and huffed stubbornly, “Hu-husband and wife. Not man and wife.”

You wanted to remind him exactly who he was doing this to and why he could do it...because you allowed it.

“Correct you are, my darling,” he let a laugh escape him before he moved back, “Now if I just pull and twist my hips like this.”

He re-entered and this time he put his thumb on your clit as he went inside. Your eyes blew wide and you began to babble.

“Oh oh oh! Wh-what wait, please!” You started to moan and whine.

Your husband cackled proudly, “It feels good doesn’t it?”

You foolishly nodded in truth. Something sparked a flame that flooded your insides.

He did it again and again. He repeated and rubbed down into you. The filling of his member rubbing against all parts of your inner skin made you clench and groan.

You felt increasingly needful to collect the same high feeling he had delivered on you before. You were climbing an imaginary hill. The urge to release your bladder made your eyes widen.

Desperation took you into the most needful begging, “N-no! I need to use a bedpan please

Sherlock, please, I am going to make a mess! Stop! I’ll do anything.”

Your little gasps and desperate moans spurred your husband on.

His hips were making a fast speeding pace that made you dig your knees into his sides.

You wanted him to stop. You were scared of pissing over him, especially in his bed.

“I want you to let go,” he moaned and shoved his nose against yours. His breath entered your mouth as he raggedy groaned, “Release, trust me...it will feel good.”

You didn’t trust him. You didn’t know what he meant. How could this behaviour be acceptable.

“No, no, no, no, ugh, ugh, stah-, Sher-, ugh, pl-please!”

He slammed himself harder and licked at your chest, “Such a pretty beggar, dear lord, I predicted you to be a homely creature, I have been proven wrong. In this light, you are rare gem of the seas of Venus. Oh sweet lamb, give me your release.”

You couldn’t hold yourself in containment any longer. You let your lower half go. You clenched hard down onto him.

You found your spine curl and your mouth wordlessly wailing.

“Breathe dead, breathe,” you heard Sherlock call above your silent choking before unleashing a brutalising scream. It was like taking your first breath, being reborn.

When the air released, your chest burned. You gasped and cried out as some mighty string was torn within and drowned you in a flooding dam of pleasure.

Sherlock followed your desirable agony and let his mind go. His grunting was feral and full of need.

Your muscles released and you cried with the feeling of warm melted gold ran through you.

You weakly called out, “Sherlock...”

His hot lips kissed against your sweaty skin. He kissed your neck up to your chin and cheek and engulfed your own mouth in a sloppy sensation of saliva and soft lips.

When your eyes focused and found a semblance of sane sight, you beheld a pleased man. You felt his fingers touching along your arms and wrists.

“I am going to untie you, hush you are safe...”

You shut your eyes. The last tears to come derived from pleasure and a overwhelming sense of joy that was foreign to you. You trembled, still drinking in the vibrations of your body.

You were stuck in a blanket of bodily pleasure. You had never been so relaxed and warm in your entire life.

You enjoyed what he had done and you didn’t know why especially since you heavily disliked your own husband.

Was this what Mrs Hudson referred to? Screaming followed by smiles?

‘Oh’, you thought, ‘never again will a woman have what I just claimed. This is mine and always shall be.’

“I...need...um...I...words...I...you’ve...I can’t think...I am spent,” you mumbled dumbly.

A part of you wanted to thank him and have him leave you alone to wallow in sleep. Another wanted him to do it all again.

“Pretty Lamb,” he cooed in your ear as your hands limply fell to the mattress, “I am going to carry you now.”

He had tucked himself away and scooped his hands under your legs. He moved your arms around his shoulders and pushed you to sit up before clamping his arm beneath your back. His nose tucked into your neck where he left another kiss.

Carefully he lifted you off his bed and stepped out into the dining parlour where he turned and took you to your room beside his.

He pulled the blankets and sheets away before sliding you down beneath them.

He pulled the cover up to your chin and you whimpered, “I...am sore.”

His hard face softened, he pressed his lips to your cheek and asked, “You are?”

You nodded your head, “I...feel...light...tired.”

He left your side to shut your door. The light disappeared completely. Only the moon that casted light over his face helped you see as he faced you again. He wondered over and invaded your bed space.

He climbed in along side you. The wood creaked with his added weight. You were slightly alarmed he was coming into your bed and not returning back to his room.

You were drowsy and moaned.

“Sleep, in my arms,” He said as you weakly tried rolling away.

You turned back and stared at the shadows of his face. His eyes were black with only small specks of the light reflecting.

His skin was sticky and hot... But tonight it was cold and windy...you needed him...he wanted you...you succeeded.

In the darkness, you decided to reclaim some small pride...you pushed your face up and kissed his lip. Breathing him in you could finally smell him and taste him. Chalk, blood, and tobacco.

You shut your eyes and imagined the joy of your grandmother if you could tell her how you finally became the wife of Sherlock Holmes before the rites of Godly flesh.

He was silent and still. He said nothing. Did nothing.

When you pulled back from the kids he rested his head softly back on the pillows with a light hum. His fingers tickled up your naked back, holding you close. You rubbed your cheek into his bicep and listened to his heart beat and breathing until you passed into the dreamlands of sleep.

•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•≫≪•❈•

6:04am Wednesday 7th May 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

You dreamt of your father and mother. Two people who never married, but at some point were in love. You never had the chance to see them together in happiness.

They were well dressed and strolling in the park pushing a perambulator. And as you followed them it had not struck you that this was a dream. Inside the baby carriage was nothing at all...it was odd.

Yet your parents smiled and both leant in to kiss each other....their hands both held wedding bands.

If you had never been born, you suddenly thought, would they have been able to marry and be happy?

Your mother as she loved upon your father shoved the perambulator away. It rolled fast down the path and you followed it for a moment before hearing a terrible wail of a baby inside. A baby that wasn’t in the carriage before suddenly appeared, pulling back a blanket that covered it.

You chased after the carriage as it sped up and went down a hill. Your heart ached with terror. You struggled to keep up and reached out your hand to the handle bar. It was rolling just out of your reach!

You sobbed as the carriage crashed into Tree and fell to its side. Out rolled...a bleating lamb...the creature rose up on its four wiggly legs and bleated again. It’s long wagging tail flickered around anxiously.

You landed on your knees before the lamb and kept crying. Not even you knew the reason for your tears. You held the small animal to your torso, checking it over for any broken limbs. The baby sheep was fine.

A tap on your head made you look up and standing above you was a dark faceless shadow of a man. The shadow sucked you in and you screamed at the darkness before waking up.

Above you was a face you did know...your husband’s. His eyes danced around your features. His lips curled into a smirk, “Good morning Mrs Holmes, how did you sleep?”

You blinked and peered up at him warily before slowly you sat up and away from him. His hand touched your shoulder, your hand grabbed his wrist.

What was he doing in your bed? Why were you nude!? Ah the revaluations if the previous evening re-established back into your memory. He had fully fucked you. He had claimed you...and in your drunken sleepy state, you kissed him. You flushed.

“I slept fine...” you lied, “Please let me up,” you glanced between him, the door of the bedroom and your wardrobe, “I need to start my day.”

You swallowed hard as you looked over his broad chest.

“Nonsense,” Sherlock stated before dragging you closer to him by your waist, his hands were huge and warm, it would be too much to say even comforting.

“We have plenty of time before Mrs Hudson climbs up the stairs.” His lips touched your jaw and peppered down your neck..

“Mr Holmes...please,” you cleared your throat as your hand pushed his chest to force a pause. You flushed with embarrassment. He noticed very quickly at your strained tone.

“Oh...I see...you recall the events of last night...your self deduction?”

His hands under the blanket slid downward to your thighs. He touched the soft shaved skin of your pubis. You felt twice as sensitive...

“H-humiliated, st-stupid and angry,” you shuddered.

You had let him hurt you again...and yet this time it came to a pleasant conclusion. You were disgusted in yourself for obeying him so quickly, so willingly I’m regards to giving him fellatio.

His fingers pressed your clit and he smiled at your gasp.

“And now?”

You gulped and turned your face into the pillows away from his eyes.

It was hard to deny how much you enjoyed the jumping buzz in your lower belly.

His laugh was crude to your ears, “See how easy it is to feel that sweet entrapment?” He rubbed his hand between your legs and marvelled at your heightened reaction, “My goodness look at you, your cunt is pulsing against me, hot and hard in my palm.”

Your breath hitched and your hips accidentally rolled into his touch. Your body craved the addictive buzz. Your thighs parted for him...he accepted the invitation and moved a finger inside while he ground his palm against your bundle of nerves.

“Oh, are you going to release again?” he whispered proudly.

He chuckled at your shaking head. Your pathetic attempts to mentally deny it. You were close by how tightly you fluttered around just his lone finger. Your knees shook and clamped together. His finger continued jerking in and out.

“Oh ride the sweet death, come to be me, come, come, come to me little lamb.”

His mouth ducked down to your nude chest. He licked across your nipples and suckled them into his cheeks loudly.

Your hand grabbed the blankets and his wrist. You rolled your head back and sighed as whatever that spell was took over you.

“Did you know,” he smacked his lips across your breasts, before tonguing a single nipple, “you’ve the most delicious teats?”

You groaned and blushed. You were trying to catch your own breath.

He pressed his cock against your leg before taking your hand and forcing you to hold him.

“Touch me, hold it and slide your hand up and down like a silk pole.”

You did as he asked while he kissed your mouth openly. Your eyes fluttered shut and jerked him off until you felt a wetness glide down your hands, he moaned.

This is the kindest he has ever been to you presently.

You pulled your hand away and up to the light of the morning. Your eyes widened at the white goop stuck on your fingers and back of your hand.

“Wha-what is this?”

He chuckled and kissed your cheek proclaiming, “My seed.” Seed...to make children...but it was so...

“Its...liquid,” you disagreed, “and wet and sticky...it’s like mucus.”

He raced his fingers along your hip and patiently explained, “When drained inside of you,” his hand touched your lower belly, “it goes up and impregnates. But you are still bleeding so it washes out and won’t catch in your womb.”

You blinked and let your dirty hand fall back on the top of the covers.

“Oh...”

You felt him sit up and you mirrored him. You slid out of the bed as his warmth left you. Watching him pull his trousers properly back up over his hips and waist made you fluster from the sight of his bare arse.

It was such a plump bottom.

He pulled away your blanket, unveiling your nude self to the cold morning.

He turned around and brought back your water basin and a cloth. He soaked the material in and pressed the wet cloth to your thighs.

“Stay still,” he said softly, “I’m just washing you.”

You paused before you spread your legs for him and awkwardly nodded, “Thankyou...husband.”

Surely you could’ve cleaned yourself. You hissed as he scrubbed the dry blood and release from you thighs. The cold water on your hot dirty skin was soothing.

You stood out of your bed finally and hurried to your dresser to find either some padding tubes or a sanitary apron.

Your rolled the bandage up quickly and turned away from Sherlock as you inserted the material.

You felt...strange doing this in front of him. A part of him you were sure might be repulsed at the sight.

Except he had his back turned to you, he was washing himself in the basin while he asked, “How did you find the carnal pleasure?”

You froze and felt your mouth dry up. Had he forgotten that he had tied you up?!

It was hard to meet his eyes. You wrapped your arms around yourself. Your husband turned to you.

You felt the need to cover your privates with your hands.

“Strange, it...felt correct...but...wrong...” you cleared your throat, “forbidden, despite our vows.”

He smiled and nodded to the bed while he passed you to your wardrobe and investigated the contents, “Many young ladies new to it have expressed the same condolences...that is sex. That is coitus. That is what husband and wife do. To make babies, and to feel pleasure.”

Your nose wrinkled. Sherlock was significantly older than you. You trusted this wisdom. He was clearly an experienced man from the prices spent at Mayfair.

“Why did it hurt so much the first time?” you asked.

No one had prepared or explained why having sex with your husband would hurt. He was so brutal the first day. And last night it hurt but not as much...

He sighed and pulled out dark navy blouse and a skirt to match. You felt the urge to correct his choice as he held them up. It was an outfit for outside outings. You weren’t meant to leave the home during this delicate time.

He asked over his shoulder, “Have you ever ridden horses?”

“I have,” you answered honestly.

“Side saddle?” His left brow raised.

“Sometimes,” you pursed your lips and watched him lay out your clothes on your bed, “It was easier for balance when riding as men do.”

He nodded and went to collect a pair of your boots, “And that hurt your thighs the first time?”

“First few ride like that yes,” you agreed, huffing impatiently, “Where is this conversation leading?”

He pulled you closer by pinching your hip. He pushed a chemise over your head. Your eyes widened, this wasn’t his role...to help you dress. It was your responsibility and Mrs Hudson if you were inclined to ask for her assistance.

“How did the pain go away?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes and answered the obvious explanation, “Because my body accommodated and my muscles for the riding evolved to accept the saddled position.”

He passed you a pair of open crotch bloomers. You pulled the material over your legs and tied the strings to your waist over the corset.

He smiled and pinched your chin, “The same is said for sex. The more you practice, the better it will be for you and...your health.”

You flushed and turned your face away from him...you felt foolish with the way his eyes ran over your bare body. He turned you around and helped pull a corset over your head and began fighting the strings in the back.

“I...it hurt and felt good...I felt...suffocated...I thought I saw a bright light,” you grunted as he tugged.

Your husband shut his eyes and with a smile he hummed pleasingly, “La petite mort.” “The Little death?” You gasped.

He flicked his eyes open. He sounded amused, “ah you know French little lamb?”

“of course I do,” you scoffed lightly, “any self respectable lady must learn French.”

Not his sister, “I suppose so.”

He pulled more of the ties closer. The corset grew taunt and supportive of your chest. His fingers tugged down further.

“Why did you go to Scotland yard yesterday?” You asked him as he finished tying the laces together.

“And who did you have a fight with?”

You tapped your face with a soft finger. He passed you a hose suspender belt. You clipped the hooks behind your back while the belt sat on your waist.

“There’s now a bruise under your chin that I most certainly did not cause Mr Holmes...” A part of you wished you had. He would’ve deserved it from you. He rubbed the dark spot and smirked.

Your husband sat on your bed and plucked your stockings. He pat his thigh and opened the stockings up. You lifted your leg and rested it on his thigh. You clenched the wooden canopy pole to steady your balance.

You were embarrassed. At this angle he would be able to see your cunt stuffed with the white fluff soaking up your menstruation.

He showed no care or disgust. He slid the soft cotton up your leg and kissed your knee cheekily.

He clipped your stocking to the suspension strings.

“I inquired upon the Pennicott case,” he claimed,” his thumb rubbed dangerously over your thigh...

God, you felt a spark at the touch.

“I thought you said it was obvious,” you stuttered, “He ran out from his wife.”

“I did, and...I rethought it,” he admitted, he slid the other stocking up your other leg, “Pennicott is a Baron and a owner of many warehouse factories. His wife comes from a well off family too and she is pregnant last heard, baby number six now. Why would he disappear off the face of the earth?...”

He stood up straight and forced your arms above your head before he slid a petticoat across your waist.

“A lover?”

He smiled as he tied the strings at your waist and shook his head, “No, men like Pennicott would just keep their arm candy and refer to them as a niece of a distant cousin. And if he was attached so lovingly, he would just move to another country but to completely eradicate and leave all his finances? To leave his wife in her state? It makes not much sense. He was making a fine quarter profit! So why is he missing?”

He passed you the blouse and skirt.

“Well,” You pulled the skirt over your arms and buttoned the buttons up to our neck “Perhaps he’s been kidnapped, for ransom?”

Sherlock hummed, “Maybe Watson, but I do wonder still.” You blinked...

“Pardon?” you gawked.

He raised his brows to your exclamation.

“You called me Watson.”

“Oh dear god,” he chuckled and passed you your skirt, “it’s already happening.”

You slid on the final layer and wrinkled your nose at him, “What is happening?” Sherlock stood up from the bed and clapped his hands.

“Come with me,” he softly begged, “Today I will be visiting his wife. The Baroness. I am investigating the case.”

Your eyes fluttered. Your thoughts couldn’t keep up. You sputtered as you tried to find sensibility. “Sherlock, it is our honeymoon and I am bleeding,” you whispered, “It is improper. I need to conduct laundry. Both our bedding must be soaked in...” you cleared your throat, “the blood.” He winked at you and pulled you close to his nude chest by your covered waist.

“Isn’t it marvelous that we have a housekeeper for such things?”

You narrowed your eyes... “A housekeeper is not a maid and I would not subject Mrs Hudson to cleaning that. She has told me herself that linens is not of her department.”

The tall man bent down and offered, “Mrs Hudson will clean the laundry, trust me..”

Despite his assurance, It wasn’t right for you to be out and about in public like this.

“And what would I be doing,” you tested, “Running after you as you speak to the Baroness?”

“Sitting pretty,” Sherlock stated, “And looking for clues.”

Your eyes sharpened, “Clues?”

Your husband tapped your nose, “Yes, you seem to have a hint of talent in that department. You just don’t know where to deduce the end results for the clues.” You blinked....

With a soft mutter you stated, “I suppose it would allow me more insight to your profession and a chance to bond and learn about each other...”

Before you could continue anymore questions you heard a soft knock on your bedroom door.

“Mrs Hudson,” you both whispered, glancing to one another.

Helplines:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

#dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes x female reader #sherlock holmes x poc!reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x ofc #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes #enola sherlock #henry sherlock #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #wowb

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adams-angels · 10 months ago

Note

Hello dear writer! Whenever you have time would you consider doing a fluff and maybe smut piece about how Adam would be on a restaurant date? I’m so curious how he would act since they didn’t have dates when he was alive a trillion billion million years ago.

And Valentine’s Day has me way up in the feels 🥹

Thank you bebe 🩵

A bit late for Valentine's day but better late than never babes 😎 this was longer than I was expecting 🫢

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Valentines

It's been a while since Adams been on a "date" if you could even call it that. The last "date" he had was with Eve in the Garden of Eden. So... Yeah. A while might be an understatement. He also hated the day. Like many holidays. Why should SaInT vAlEnTiNe get a whole holiday after him?! Adam is the ORIGINAL dick. If anything there should be a holiday celebrated for HIM. But, whatever. You were into it. And he was into you.

He was so nervous when he asked you out for Valentine's day. He waited until last minute before finally getting the courage to ask. Ten o'clock at night he frantically knocked at your door. You hurried to answer, the panic filled your body at the knocking. It was desperate, like someone needed help. When you opened the door and saw a panting Adam you were confused. Was he hurt? Before you could say anything he put his hand up to your face signaling you to not speak as he caught his breath. It was odd why he was out of breath. He flies everywhere. Did he run? "Be- huff- will you- jesus, fuck- pant-" his hand were on his knees as he choked on his breath. "Ada-" hand in your face. Rude. He straightened himself out, at least as much as he could in the small apartment hallway. The apartment was made for smaller Winners not 8 foot Giants like Adam. "Be my Valentine?" He panted out. Of course you said yes! What can you say? You've been crushing on him for, like, ever! You never picked up that he likes you back. Even though he was never subtle. "Cool- pant- text you the deetz." He shot you some finger guns before leaving.

So now it's Valentine's day! 💘 Cupid's shot his arrow and hit you. You're feeling fun, flirty, and feisty. You put on your cutest outfit and checked yourself in the mirror. Is cute what you're going for? It's your first date. But it is Valentine's day. You don't wanna be prudish. You change into something a bit more revealing and again checked yourself. This might be a bit too sexy.. slutty even! You don't want to give the impression that you put out of the first day! Even if you do. No. This needs to be perfect. You think to yourself... "I bet Adam isn't having this much trouble."

You weren't wrong. Adam was much more relaxed. Too relaxed. Why would he be nervous? He's the man. In fact he was out right now looking at new guitars. When he left the store he saw Valentine, surrounded by his Cupid's. "Augh." Adam grunted, not wanting to interact with the Saint. "Adam!" Shit. "A little birdy told me you've got a Valentine's this year. It's been what? Centuries?" Valentine laughed. Adam rolled his eyes, then glared at him. "Yeah? So what? I figured it's a good way to get free pussy." Adam shrugged as a cocky grin formed on his face. The Cupid angels surrounding Saint Valentine cringed. "Oh, Adam. Come now! This is a holiday of love and romance. Not cheap pickups!" The man placed a hand on Adam shoulder which he immediately shrugged off. "So, are you going anywhere special? Have you bought the lucky angel flowers? Chocolates? A gift of adoration?" "Uh.. what?" "You haven't bought them anything have you?" The man laughed, putting his hand on Adams shoulder again pulling Adam closer. "Good luck getting fucked, playboy." He hissed with a wicked smirk. Valentine released Adams shoulder laughing. "Happy Valentine's days!" He said before flying away with his cupids. "Motherfucker!" Adam's flew off to the nearest store to get you some flowers.

When he arrived the flower section was bare. Maybe one half dead rose. "What the hell?" He flew all over the store looking for anything Valentines related. "No, no, no!" He stopped in one of the aisles before finding worker. "Hey! Where the fuck is the stuff?" "S-stuff, sir?" Adam gestures around the store. "You know! The fucking Valentines shit! Where is it?!" The poor retail worker fretted telling him there was nothing left. "V-valentines day is o-one of the most popular days of the year sir... There's nothing left.." "NOTHING LEFT?!?!" Adam yelled. His voice booming around the store causing shelfs to shake knocking almost everything off. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN NOTHING LEFT?! I NEED SOMETHING FOR TONIGHT!!!" "I - I'm sorry, sir!" The poor angels voice shuddered. Adam groaned, balling his hands into fists. He was about to leave before he noticed a bottle of soda that hadn't fallen. He pushed it off the shelf for good measure before storming out of the store.

He wasn't going to spend all day looking for shit of this shitty holiday. He hated it. This was dumb! He's gift enough. Still, he takes his phone and texts Lute

"URGENT! flowers! Plz get 4 me thx dngrtits"

That'll do. He heads home to get ready for your date.

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

The time comes and Adam is waiting outside of your apartment building, he's not walking up all those stairs again. He was feeling cool. Calm. Collected. Until he saw you. His hands started getting clammy, his heat racing. You look so pretty. You of course found the prefect in-between of cute and sexy for your outfit. "Heeey, you could of made an effort." He joked. You frowned. You thought you did well. He clears his throat. "Let's go." He wiped his hands on his robe before taking flight with you following after.

You both arrived at the restaurant. Neither of you stop on the way. It was awkward. He walked in first, he didn't hold the door open for you. Rude. Once inside you noticed the restaurant was jam packed. Adam also noticed this and froze. "Good thing you booked, right?" You said, playfully, hoping to break some tension. "Uh... Yeah... Wait here, surgartits." He walked over to the host. "I need a table for two." The host scoffed. "Yeah, sure. We've got one available tomorrow." Adam was fuming. This was all going wrong. This can't go wrong. "Do you fucking know who I am?!" He raised his voice. "I'm fucking ADAM! I'm the fucking man! And I want a damn table!" You walk over. "Adam?" "What, bitch!? Fuck! Can't you see I'm busy?! I'm getting us a table!" He yelled at you. No. Nope. You're too good to be yelled at. This was meant to be fun. Fuck this. You put your hands in the air. "Nope. I'm out." You turn on your heels and exit the restaurant. "Wait- no, y/n." He looks as you exit then back at the host. "I'll ruin your fucking life, cunt." He hissed before flying out of the restaurant.

He looks around and you were no where to be seen. "Fast fucker. AUGH!!!" He stomped his foot covering his face with his hands. If he wasn't wearing his mask he'd be pulling his hair.

You got yourself home. Fucking shit day. Dumb idea. You don't even know why he asked you. The whole thing was dumb. Everything about it was dumb. You collapse onto the couch, sulking. It doesn't take long before there's a knock at the door. Adam you suspect. You roll your eyes before peeling yourself off the couch. Opening the door you see Lute. Huh. "Uh.. hi?" "Adam requests your presents. Put on this blind fold." She hands you a blindfold. "What?" She didn't repeat herself. She never does. You groan, knowing she won't leave until you do it so whatever. You put the blindfold on and lute takes your wrist and flies off with you ragdolling.

Once your feet touch the ground she lets go of your wrist. Leaving you there blindfolded. "Uh.. you can take that off now." You do, to see a candle lit picnic layed out. It was adorable, there were fairy lights on the trees. Adam stood there, awkwardly, with a bunch of your favourite flowers. How did he know? Lute. "Uh. Surprise.." he handed you the flowers. "Sorry, about the restaurant. Fucking idiots double booked or something.. I don't know." He shrugged. You know it wasn't true. He didn't book, you know that. But you smiled. "Thank you, Adam. This is much nicer." He smiled and stretched. "Well, what can I say? I know what I'm doing."

You sat on the blanket, Adam did also and popped open a bottle of champagne. "I got the good stuff." You smile at the gesture although you always thought champagne tasted disgusting. He got all the good stuff, strawberries and chocolates. Cheese board. Cute little cakes. "This is all very well thought out. How did you get this so quickly?" You asked. He shrugged with a smirk. "I'm just that good, babe." Lute. This was more his style anyway. Outside, under the stars. It reminded him of the Garden.

"so, this was fun." He rubbed the palm of his hands on his knees. "I'd much rather not do this Valentine's bullshit though. Maybe next time we can just... Do it whenever?" "I'd like that. Although, this Valentine's day has turned out pretty perfect." You smile. "Well. I am perfect so." He smirks at you. You don't want to stroke his ego anymore than you already have. You roll your eyes before quickly giving him a peck on the lips. "you're alright, I suppose." You took his sweaty hand in yours and led down, he followed. You both watched the stars in silence. He'd gently squeeze your hand every now and then, you'd squeeze back.

"Happy valentine's, Y/N."

"Happy valentine's, Adam."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel adam smut

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schluttforschlatt · 3 months ago

Text

Bartender Reader x Patron Schlatt

You’ve had your fair share of working in shitty dive bars, having been in both big cities and small towns

The patrons were always predictable, their life stories printed in the creases around their eyes and mouth

The bigger cities attracted a younger crowd, while the smaller townships collected middle aged farm hands and dock workers

You were currently working two part time jobs: waiting tables at a family owned diner in the morning, and bartending at a sleepy tavern in the evenings

You had your regulars at both establishments, but the bar goers definitely tipped better than the diner guests

Of course there were sleezeballs trying to feel you up at the bar, but you were desperate to make rent and didn’t mind an extra $30 for a light tap on the ass; men are simple creatures after all and you were able to brush it off by the time you were clocking out

However, every Friday night you noticed a solitary young man, gruff expression and wild facial hair with uncharacteristically soft eyes, tucked away in a booth occasionally sharing banter with other bar crawlers

You’d heard stories of him tipping measly dollars to your coworkers, the other bar tenders always disappointed after he would close out his tab and walk out the door

But when it was you cashing him out, he’d slide you a crisp $50 with a subtle wink, and you’d blush whispering a “thank you” every time

This would go on for a few months, him slipping you $100s closer to holidays. The first time, you pleaded with him to keep the money and use it for his own needs and care, but he smiled down at you and shook his head, muttering “you’re too sweet for this place, doll. Tips all yours.”

You came to eventually know him as Jay, who would slink in and order a top shelf whiskey or bourbon, then seat himself in a booth in the far corner of the bar. He would only speak when it came time to pay his tab, unless it was you

He would ask you about your life, what you were studying and why you were passionate about it. He’d ask about your hobbies and interests, offering input if it was something he was familiar with. And of course, he loved it when you’d sit in the booth across from him, scrolling through pictures of your cats at home.

On one occasion, you’d had an actually deep conversation about working two jobs and studying, struggling to find a balance between the three while maintaining a social life and personal interests

You’d become acquaintances with him, and just as you opened up to him, he would open up to you, sharing pictures of his own cats (“I don’t trust someone who doesn’t like cats, there’s just something untrustworthy about it.” He’d say to you one night) and his travels across the states and abroad

One night in particular, he asked about a tattoo you had on your left forearm. You said it was from your favorite video game, which launched the two of you into a passionate conversation about console vs PC, then building your own PCs and rigs

He pulled out his phone and opened the Steam app, eagerly asking to add you as a friend with the possibility of playing together, which you happily obliged

He tipped you $250 that night, his bill originally only $45. That was the largest tip you’d received. There was no physical contact made, nor did he try to feel you up at any point, unlike other reoccurring patrons

The next time he sauntered in, he gave you a shy wave before ordering a whiskey neat, then retiring to the same dim booth. You’d taken notice of his messy hair, the usual Yankees cap missing this evening, and the stressed look on his face

On your break you made your routine appearance at the booth, scooting in with a warm smile. His eyes seemed distant this time, almost anxious. You opened the conversation joking about his missing hat, to which he let out a soft chuckle and cracked a half smile. He indulged about his current woes, how his job was weighing on him and he felt like he was hitting a wall

This was the first time you’d asked about what he did for a living, and suddenly the larger than average tips made sense.

He prattled on about running multiple successful YouTube channels on top of owning several smaller business ventures. He opened up about the podcasts he was apart of, and explained how Patreon patrons were the backbone of his multiple communities. It was endearing to see someone young, close in age to you, express the realities of burnout despite loving your craft

As your lunch conversation came to an end, you boldly asked for his number, if anything just to continue the discussion after your shift

However, he’d do you one better and invite you over to his place after your shift to talk shit about life and play old Nintendo games. He’d still given you his number, of course, but he’d also filled out his contact information with his street address, email, and had taken a silly selfie for the contact photo and poster

As you clocked out that night, he waited for you outside the entrance, scrolling through Reddit

You told him you couldn’t stay too late, as you worked your second (well, first, technically) job in the morning and needed at least a good nap before you’d have to get ready

He was more than happy to offer for you to stay the night at his place, and so you two made the walk to your apartment (you said you were fine to go by yourself, but he insisted on making sure you got to your destinations safe and sound). You opened up the door and invited him in, introducing him to your three cats and leaving them in the small living room while you packed an overnight bag. You could hear needy meows through the hall of your youngest cat, begging this new kind stranger for treats. Once she started, the other two kitties joined in, a chorus of

“I don’t know where your mama keeps them! But if I find them you’ll all get some!” You’d heard him whisper yell, smiling at the thought of this new found friend bonding with the most important things in your life

Once your bag was packed, you locked your bedroom door and waltzed into the cramped kitchen, pulling out a bag of cat treats and handing them to Jay

“I spoil them so give them each a small handful,” you smiled at him, handing the bag over. “But be careful of Mellie, she’ll bit a finger for a treat.” He chuckled and offered a smile back, eyes brighter now than they were at the start of the night

After getting the cats to settle down, you’d scuttle down the stairs of your apartment, and begin your trek to Jay’s

Coincidentally, he only lived a few blocks away, no more than a 15 minute walk. It was brisk outside, and you were hoping the pajama shorts you packed would keep you warm through the night

Once arriving at his condo, he unlocked the door and let you in. His own cats came skittering to the front door, immediately begging you, now the stranger to these cats, for treats of their own

“Guys, leave our guest alone, I know your feeders went off less than an hour ago,” he’d bent down to pet one of his cats, an orange one you recognized as Jambo, before throwing a mouse toy into the hallway, both cats running after it

“Did you want to change? The bathroom is down that hall to the left,” he informed, pointing you in the direction. “I’m gonna get the Wii set up in the living room, so take your time, Doll.” That was a pet name he’d use for you often, and you never thought anything of it, only that he was a nice guy who essentially paid for your groceries and gas in his tips

You smiled and nodded, taking off for the bathroom while he took off his jacket, draping it over the arm of the loveseat

It was a nice condo, you thought, colors fitting together charmingly. Blues and browns accented the walls, along with framed awards and trophies. It wasn’t braggadocious, you thought, but rather cute

You found the bathroom, which was also put together nicely, and began your nightly routine. Once you were changed out of your sticky uniform and with a washed face, you made your way to the living room, socked feet making gentle padding sounds to announce your presence. He turns and smiles at you, a gleam in his eye

“Here, lemme put your bag in my room,” he offers with an extended hand, and you gladly let him store it for later

You plop down on the couch, picking up a Wiimote and securing the wrist strap. You hear heavy steps from behind before a “You really use the wrist strap on these things? Pft-“ he joins you on the couch, you, player two, on the right side, and he, obviously player one, on the right

“Your place looks nice, and I don’t have the money to buy you a new TV if I go too hard in Wii Sports,” you quip back, earning a small laugh from the larger man

He continues to set up Mario Kart, turning back to see if you approve of his choice

“Ain’t worried ‘bout the TV, Doll,” you blush at the use of the pet name again. “Only worried about kicking your ass in Moo Moo Circut.”

It wouldn’t be long until both of you were shit talking each other, subconsciously scooting closer to each other, shrieks and laughs echoing through the room

Jambo and [Redacted] had found their places next to you and Jay, and something about this made you feel at ease, allowing you to loosen up a bit and sink into the comfort of his couch

A few hours had passed, and a handful of circuits had been played before you sheepishly asked for a blanket. He obliged, standing up to grab a giant plush blanket, draping it over your lap, then pulling the slack over his own after sitting back down. He’d throw a sheepish grin your direction after knocking your knees together

He’d subconsciously reach over and rub the spot under the blanket, causing you to gasp at the contact of his cold hand. He’d apologize and withdraw digits, refocusing on the TV screen, but you could see a faint blush begun to crawl up his ears

Another hour or so had passed before you were ready to head to bed, your need for sleep making its presence by intense yawns dragging themselves out in quick succession to one another, then contagiously spreading to Jay

Standing up from the couch and stretching, you’d follow behind the large man, with the cats following behind you, to a decently sized bedroom with a neatly made bed

“Beds all yours, I’ll take the futon,” he’d declare, causing you to blush, and insist he take the bed, and you the futon, but he’d stand firm on his decision. “‘S probably gonna be the only time you’ll sleep on a bed this nice, when you come over, y’know?” The smirk on his face told you everything you needed to know, so you’d nod and climb into the California King, feeling like the distance to himself on the futon was several zip codes away

The bed was indeed comfortable, but you tossed and turned because of how unbelievably cold the room was, the sheets feeling like blankets of ice and snow

Desperate to feel warmth you decided to slink over to the man on the futon, placing a freezing hand on the back of his neck. He jumped at the contact, a string of expletives leaving his mouth, before looking at you with concerned eyes. You bluntly said you were cold, and wanted him to either turn the AC off and give you a few more blankets, or join you. In the bed. The one bed. He gave a dopey grin

“All you had to do was ask, Toots.” And he came, pulling him onto the bed with him. And God, that was the best sleep you’ve ever had

~ lmk if anyone wants like an actual fic of this bc I fear I have motivation ~

#schlatt x reader #jschlatt #jschlatt x reader #schlatt #jschlatt fanfic #schlatt fanfic #schlatt fluff #jschlatt fluff #jschlatt fic #schlatt fic #schlatt headcanons #jschlatt headcanons

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