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runningfrom2am · 1 year ago

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leveling the playing field XIII

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 4.2k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there. oh, and manipulation (both of them lowkey)

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a/n: nothing much to say other than thank you guys and i hope you like it :)

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You think you might die from this heat. The ice bag that Coryo brought you only lasted so long, especially when you shared it with the covey, which cut its window of efficacy in half. Both of you trailed behind everyone on the way to the lake, besides for Maude Ivory who found a very comfortable spot on Coryo's back. You should have thought to buy her some new shoes before the several-hour hike, but you didn't think that would be of consequence.

"How is Sejanus?" You ask, making conversation as you wipe the sweat from your brow. You'd like to gauge if Coryo knew anything more about your mutual friend's habit of hanging around with the wrong people.

"He's... yeah. He's fine." Coryo sighs, adjusting his hold on Maude Ivory's legs around his waist as he steps over a tree root.

"You don't sound so sure." You laugh, tilting your head up at him.

The bruise on your cheek wasn't red anymore, now healing into a yellowish hue that Coryo could hardly tear his eyes away from. He wishes you were still in the habit of wearing makeup every day, then he wouldn't have to stare down the result of his failure every time he looked at you. He shakes his head. "Well, I'll tell you about it later."

You just nod, looking down at the ground in front of you to make sure you don't trip. Now it was your turn to wish that the two of you could talk about what's going on between you. Whatever Sejanus is up to with Billy Taupe reminded you that even though you're far away from the chains of the Capitol, you still weren't entirely free. Even if now it was just free of the prying ears of a little blonde girl who loved to talk. "If you could change one thing about your routine right now, what would it be?" You ask, looking up at him again and squinting at the sun as it breaks through the trees above you.

Coryo draws his head back for a moment, confusion washing over his features at the seemingly random question. "Uh, everything. Next question."

"Ah-ah," You shake your head, hair falling into your face which you quickly pull back again. "Only one thing."

"Okay, fine." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Um... not sure, honestly. Maybe I'd have more success trapping those damn Mockingjays." He grumbles, looking up into the treeline.

You laugh, rubbing over the mostly healed scratches on your arms. "Nothing yet, huh?" Up until the point that you forgave him, you had gone out every night for almost a week, having learned a better system for opening the traps that didn't result in them cutting up your arms with their claws. Not so much as a thank you from the birds that apparently could speak, until you had started to thank yourself every time you reached around the side of the traps to open the metal, just so they would echo it back to you. You knew it was crazy, but it had become a fun semblance of a normal routine.

"Not one. Hardly any Jabberjays either, we think someone was setting them free in the night, they were easier to trap at first." He replies, smiling at you despite his frustrations about it. He couldn't wait until they could catch enough for Dr. Kay so he could start shooting them instead. "Rebels, most likely."

"That's annoying." You laugh, trying to hide the nervousness in your tone. "Why would they care about some birds?" It was a stupid question to pose, to poke holes in his only theory when it didn't already point back to you.

"They're hardly more than animals themselves." He grumbles, shrugging. "No, actually, I'd probably spend more time with you, if I could." He changes his answer and effectively, the topic as well. At this, Maude Ivory lifts her head from his shoulder.

"Are you guys in love?" She asks, turning her head so she can look at you now.

"Oh, no." Your cheeks burn as you laugh, shaking your head. "It's complicated big kid business, Maude Ivory."

"That's enough." Coryo chuckles nervously, spinning her on his hip and carefully putting her down. "Go bother the others."

The girl giggles, walking backward in front of you with her shoes in her hand. "It's why, I love you, you're as pure as the driven-" She starts to sing a song you were writing with Lucy Gray, knowingly taunting you, but you're quick to cut her off.

"Hey! Don't!" You laugh quickly, pretending to push her forward so she'll run along. "They've got some thin walls in that house..." You chuckle quietly, avoiding his gaze as you watch her run up ahead.

After a few moments of silence, Coryo speaks again. "What about you? What would you change?"

"Can I be uncreative and say the same thing as you?" You ask, cheeks still red.

"Sure." He nods slightly, a small smile on his face.

"Great, because those birds are starting to get on my nerves." You joke, bumping your shoulder against his arm.

He smiles, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I hate you too."

"Oh, hush. You know I love you." You freeze up as soon as you say it, suddenly it holds a lot more weight to it than your typical friendly banter.

At that, Coryo drapes his arm over your shoulder with a satisfied smile, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

"Can you tell me about Sejanus, now?" You ask, head placed on Coryo's lap as you lay on the dock. You had been out of the water for a little while, now, utilizing the sun to dry your wet hair and skin.

He looks back up to the cabin, seeing Lucy Gray and the rest of the covey scattered and picking plants or lying in the grass. "Uh, he just keeps sneaking off, and I found a good bit of money in his locker, but he told me he was broke so... I don't know what he's up to."

You sigh. "I've seen him hanging around Billy Taupe a lot. They're a sketchy crowd in the nicest of terms."

"Well, he is district. It doesn't surprise me that he'd associate with them." Coryo explains, distracted in a weak attempt at braiding a small section of your hair.

"He's gonna get himself killed." You mutter, eyes closed to block out the sun. You couldn't tell Coriolanus about how you ran into Sejanus a couple of weeks ago, knowing he would ask questions about why you were out at that time too. It's easier to lie to Sejanus than to him.

"It's not our problem if we stay out of it." Coryo tries to ease your mind.

"We can't just stand by and watch, though. It'll eat my conscience alive if something were to happen to him."

Coriolanus looks down at you, watching your calm expression form into something resembling worry. He chews on the inside of his cheek and nods to himself. He would have to do something, if Sejanus ended up getting in some kind of trouble, the guilt of knowing without acting will kill you. "Okay. I'll figure something out. I'll get him to keep his distance." He promises.

Days had passed since that interaction, and Coriolanus is crippled by the fear that he made a horrible mistake. He got the full story from Sejanus, and it was worse than he pictured.

You liked Sejanus, at least you acted like it when he was around. Coriolanus could always see that the district-born boy meant something to you, even if it was unclear based on the way you spoke about him when he wasn't present. Him running off into the woods with a bunch of derelect rebels was far from a viable option, Coriolanus wouldn't have it. He couldn't risk your reaction knowing that he told you he would do something to intervene.

He needed to talk to you. You were the only one he could trust to tell about the Capitol-bound recording he sent off of Sejanus' confession, or the news that his family had been kicked out of their apartment back home. He wasn't even sure he wanted to tell you. Coryo had been fighting this internal battle for what felt like ages, so maybe he could just include the basics, leave out his actions, and let you lift some of the tensions from his shoulders by telling him it would be okay. That it would all be over soon, and that you're proud of him for passing his exam. He could get the two of you out of this dump by the end of next week, and he couldn't get you away fast enough.

Unfortunately for him, when he finally arrived at the Hob on his night off you were already on stage with the Covey. You were laughing, dancing and spinning, occasionally joining Maude Ivory on her hip drum while Lucy Gray sang. The crowd loved you, and you loved the attention. He'd be lying to himself if he tried to say he didn't love watching you so happy, but the timing was inconvenient at best.

Coryo found his usual spot against the wall, sitting down next to Sejanus. He wasn't about to let him out of his sight, not anymore.

"Give it up for our friends in the band!" He smiles at Maude Ivory's excessive spirit as she holds her arms out to encourage applause before her eyes lock on him. Her face lights up more, somehow, and he greets it with a nod.

She turns to you while music is slowly tuning out, and gives a slight tug on the bottom of your new dress. It had been scuffed up in your fight with Ash, but you had cleaned it up nicely- hardly a stitch was out of place.

You look down at the girl, who just gives a slight nod in the direction of the wall Coryo was sat against. "He's here, you gotta sing it now!" Maude Ivory says, loud enough so you could hear but not enough to be picked up by the mic behind her.

You look very briefly over at Coryo, shaking your head at her as your cheeks turn rosy. "He's never gonna hear it." You say, leaning down to her level. "Who even says its about him, huh?"

"You can't trick me, Sage." She giggles, pointing at your nose.

"C'mon, lets do it!" Lucy Gray chimes in encouragingly as you stand back up. "I'll play for you. All you gotta do is sing."

You roll your eyes playfully, shaking your head again. "No, I-"

"Now, welcome back for her second performance with us, Sage! She's gonna take us over for a minute here. I promise, y'all are in for a real treat." You're interrupted by Maude Ivory making the announcement for you. Internally you cuss, plastering on a nervous smile.

"It's beautiful, you gotta relax." Lucy Gray says in your ear, already adjusting her hold on her guitar. "If I can sing a breakup song to the whole country, you can sing a love song just to the folks in this room. C'mon." She smiles, nodding for you to take the mic as Maude Ivory bows you in.

You'd played this song a bunch back at the Covey's home after Lucy Gray caught you humming the abstract tune of a lullaby your mother used to sing to get you to sleep when you were little. You didn't remember a single word, but the melody was enough for her to recreate and embellish it into one of their songs, to which she insisted you help her write the words for.

Coryo is leaning forward, elbows rested on his knees as he watches you. From what he knew, you weren't much of a singer. The redness evenly spreading across your cheeks and nose in time with the intro music was evidence enough of that.

"Sing for us, sweetheart!" Someone from the crowd calls out, which is matched with whistles that force Coryo to sit up to try and get a look at who the hell is yelling at you. His jaw is seized until he hears your voice echoing through the large room, drawing his gaze back to you on the stage.

"I've taken some hits, so no wonder I'm wary. It's why I need you, you're as pure as the driven snow..." You look over his way only briefly while you sing the first round of the chorus, trying not to let your voice catch from the nervousness still pumping through every inch of your body.

He knows it before you're finished, but the last word, the one you didn't let Maude Ivory get to on the way to the lake, makes his heart flip in his chest. The eye contact he made with you as you said his name was so heavy with everything you've ever wanted to say to one another but never had, and he completely swells with pride knowing that it was about him.

"Cold and clean, swirling over my skin..." The inclination, again, to shout to everyone that you were his girl was immense and overtaking. Just like the first time, but now he knew it for sure. He was positive."You cloak me, You soak right in, down to my heart."

By the time you render the final verse, his whole world has changed."It's why I trust you, you're as pure as the driven snow..."

I'm gonna marry her.

He's up as soon as the song is over, heading for the back of the stage as you take your bow. Your smile is wiped when you look up and he's no longer there, and neither is Sejanus. Worry pools in your insides as you scan the crowd, giving a rushed smile to Lucy Gray and Maude Ivory as you jump down. You hurry to the back of the stage, brow furrowed as you search for Coryo.

By some miracle, he's there. If you're not mistaken, he's got tears in his eyes as he strides up to you quickly, the stage lights leaking past the stage to illuminate him just enough. His pace and his intense expression only worry you more. "Is everything-" You ask frantically, only for your question to be disrupted by his actions.

Coryo takes a deep breath, and then, as soon as you're within reach, he cups your face in his hands and leans in. The world around you seems to fade as his lips meet yours in a passionate, long-awaited kiss.

Time stands still, and in that moment, everything falls into place. The worries that plagued him when he walked in completely dissolved as he felt your hair in between his fingers. When he finally pulls away, a small smile graces his face.

You're both breathing heavily as you stare at each other, and it's then that you realize he wasn't crying due to any kind of upset. He was crying because of you. With a smile so real that you could feel the sun on your back, even late at night in this dim building hundreds of miles from the comfort of your collective home.

"Coryo..." You say, smile fading as you regain perceptions of your real life.

"I know, and I have so much to tell you..." He grins, leaning down to kiss you again.

It was your turn to interrupt, pressing a hand to his chest to stop him in his tracks. Tracks you so desired to follow, wherever they may take you, but right now you had bigger concerns. "No, no it's... where is Sejanus?"

He pauses, and it's like the spell is broken as he straightens his posture, looking around as if Sejanus should be right there. "Uh... shit." He had completely forgotten about his friend as he fell under the trance of your voice, of the song you were singing to him.

You're quickly out from under his arms, walking back around the side of the stage to go look for your friend.

"Coryo-" You stop, and he's right on your heels as you turn back to him, pointing toward the back wall. "Go check the bar. Keep an eye out for Billy Taupe. Obviously. He's probably with him." You instruct and he nods to you quickly before beginning to push his way through all the drunk people in the crowd.

You try and scan the sea of faces, but you don't see Sejanus anywhere. The music the Covey is playing is loud, drowning out any hopes you had of being able to shout for the boy. You could follow Coryo in the search, but that would no doubt just waste time. You groan, pushing your hair back out of your face in frustration. You shouldn't have stopped Coryo from kissing you again, if Sejanus wants to be reckless you should just let him. The two of you already saved his life once, was that not enough for him?

You glance down the deserted hallway to your right, and then your feet are carrying you toward the back room in an instant. You turn the corner and push the sliding door open when you hear shouting coming from the other side. "What the fuck is going on?" You ask, eyes flitting between Sejanus, and the two other boys in the room, alongside a girl who who you vaguely recognize.

"Y/N?" Sejanus asks, turning back to you quickly.

"Y/N..." The girl mutters to herself, rolling the name around in her mind and on her tongue. You can see it in the way she's looking at you. You ignore it, eyes locked on your friend now.

"I told you to not get involved in things you shouldn't, didn't I? Didn't Coryo?" You scold him, gesturing to the door.

"It's not- I didn't know they were going to buy weapons! It's not what I wanted, they told me the money was only for supplies, that no one would get hurt!"

"These are supplies." Billy Taupe's friend, Spruce, replies.

"Why would you trust them!" You spit, pointing vaguely at the other people in the room.

"Listen, Princess-" Billy Taupe starts, a bitter taste to his tone just as the door slides open again. Coryo's frame is blocking your view of the boy in a second, tucking you carefully behind his back.

"Talk to me. Not her." He hisses, and you grab his arm. The feeling of his skin under your palms is comforting, warm, and tense in your grip. "What are you doing, guns, Sejanus?" He turns his attention to your classmate.

"Coriolanus, I didn't know this is what they would do, they lied to me-" Sejanus starts his pleads for help again on a separate set of ears.

Unsurprisingly, his response is almost identical to yours. "You thought they would be honest? What are you doing? There are peacekeepers right outside!"

"That's what I said." You mumble in exasperated agreement "Why did you even give them money at all?" You ask, hoping to get some answers.

"Sejanus wants to run off with these dimwits into the woods up north," Coryo explains to you.

"What?" You ask, shocked, looking past him at the boy you've known for years. The thought of never seeing him again pulls at your heartstrings in a way you're unfamiliar with. "You can't. Absolutely not."

"You're not my Ma, Y/N!" Sejanus spits.

"Wait, I know you." The girl cuts in, pointing at you. "You're that missing girl. From the Capitol. Y/N Y/L/N. My dad got a call about you!"

You freeze up at the accusation, biting your tongue as you look up at Coryo. A memory flashes in your mind, that's why you recognize her. She's the girl who Lucy Gray dropped a snake on in the reaping- the mayor's daughter. "Huh?" You ask, trying to look as confused as possible.

"Don't play dumb, we're past that." She scoffs and you just shake your head.

"Genuinely, don't know what you're talking about." You relax your posture, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Well," She sighs, shrugging sarcastically. "I'll go tell my dad where you are. Your family sure is missin' you..." She starts to take a few steps before the back exit and you clench your jaw at her smug smile. You want to rip the hair out of her head and throw her body in the lake to rot.

"Mayfair, you can't leave." Billy Taupe scolds her, grabbing her arm which she quickly yanks away.

"This is ridiculous and confusing, and you act like I don't see the way you still look at Lucy Gray! Why don't you take her with you instead, huh?"

"She is coming, isn't she?" Spruce asks, seeming just as confused as you in a completely opposite way.

"You were bringing Lucy Gray?!" Mayfair shouts, shaking her head at her (now presumably) ex-boyfriend.

"She said she wanted to come!" Billy Taupe defends and you laugh, shaking your head.

"Okay, so clearly there's some major communication issues in this gang of misfits you've found, Sejanus, so let's just go and leave them to it. It won't benefit you to be stuck in the wilderness with a bunch of starving idiots who will kill each other in a week if they get too lazy to hunt." You plead with him and he shakes his head at you.

"Y/N, wait-" Coryo says, looking back at you only briefly.

"Yeah, Capitol Princess is right. I'm out." Mayfair says, raising her hands in defeat and turning to leave. "You'll all hang for this!"

"This power trip you have about your father being the mayor pales in comparison to what my family has. You'll all be dead by the morning if you say a word." You tell her, voice calm as she freezes, turning to look back at you.

"She's all talk, she won't tell anyone." Billy Taupe tries to defend her from the tensions rising in the room. You were concerned about getting sent home, of course, but if she told about their plans to run, everyone in the room would be executed come the morning light.

"Oh, you think I'm scared of you, Sage? You think I won't tell? Ask Lucy Gray." She's right, Lucy Gray had told you about how this girl was responsible for the reaping being rigged to result in Lucy Gray's death in the games. What they never accounted for was her strength, her intelligence, and her having Coriolanus Snow and Y/N Y/L/N as mentors.

And how Lucy Gray became a victor, known initially to most of the Capitol for her similarities to you. Only, Lucy Gray wasn't bat shit crazy.

Coryo's mind is reeling at the threat made to you as the girl starts to walk away. Within a second, before you can even make a move to tackle her, he's reaching onto the table and grabbing one of the guns. He lines up quickly and squeezes the trigger, letting the bullet fly square into the center of the girl's back. His training had paid off sooner than he thought. Coriolanus wasn't about to have you caught, sent back to a home much worse than that safety hazard at the edge of the Seam where you're currently staying.

"Mayfair!" Billy Taupe is quickly at the girls side, but she's already dead. Sejanus is shaking, and you are fighting back the smile that threatens to form on your lips despite the stress of the moment. "What have you done?" He screams at your friend.

"She was gonna get us all killed!" You defend. "You should be thanking him! Trust me, she was nothing special."

"You've got something comin', Capitol boy." He says, shaking his head as he looks up at the two of you, hatred filling his eyes. "You think you're gonna blame me for this? That you'll never get caught?"

You resist the urge to just shrug, agreeing that no, probably not. Undeniably, your best move would be to blame him. "He was defending all of us, can you not get that through your thick skull?" You settle on, keeping your footing as level as possible as Coryo pulls you back closer to his side again.

"If I swing, for this you will with me!" He screams in anger, back on his feet and moving quickly towards you as Coryo shoves you back behind him, lining up again. He didn't have to shoot, though, because Spruce does. The boy's body flings into the wall to the left of you from the force of the impact, slumping against the floor.

Your heart is pounding as you look between your two friends. "Sejanus, are you alright?" You ask, trying to approach him as Coryo starts shouting orders at Spruce to get rid of the guns.

"Hey, he's fine." Coryo grabs your arm, pulling you close to him to look at you. "I'm gonna handle this. Get back out there and sing, play the violin, just do something, okay?"

You glance back at Sejanus again, who is clearly panicking so bad he looks like he might faint. "No, I'm not leaving you, and Sejanus-"

"Sejanus is fine." Coryo says again sternly, shaking your shoulders now as he looks into your eyes. "Go back out there. I will handle this. I'll find you soon." He promises, gently pushing you in the way of the door. "Go. Now."

You swallow the anxiety sitting uncomfortably in the back of your throat and nod, glancing only briefly at your friends before you leave, closing the door quickly behind you.

taglist: @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @roosterschanelslut , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world @nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey , @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney

i've closed my taglist for coryo now!! sorry to everyone who wanted to be added, but unfortunately there was significantly more demand than i expected and i sadly just can't tag everyone. BUT! if you still want notifications when i post for this fic, please turn on my post notifs!!

#tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas fic #tbosas x reader #thg series #hunger games #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow #coryo x reader #coryo snow #president snow

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thedemonofcat · 1 month ago

Note

After the mountain, rumors start to circulate that the bard Jaskier has joined hands with Nilfgaard.

The other wolves express their outrage at this betrayal, but Geralt insists that the rumors must be fake.

This leads to questions. 1) Why is Geralt’s faith in the bard so unshakable? 2) If Jaskier is so loyal, how come Geralt’s never introduced him?

It was an unseasonably warm winter day when Lambert shoved open the heavy wooden doors of Kaer Morhen, carrying none other than Jaskier over his shoulder.

“Put me down, you oaf!” Jaskier bellowed, flailing and swatting at Lambert as they entered the keep. Lambert, unimpressed, marched forward and unceremoniously dropped the bard onto the snow-dusted floor.

“Here’s your traitor,” Lambert announced, his voice sharp with disdain. “Found him cozying up with Nilfgaard.”

Jaskier scrambled to his feet, spinning around in a flustered mess. “How dare you bring me here like this!” he cried indignantly. “I demand to leave at once!”

The room fell silent. Rumors of Jaskier’s supposed allegiance to Nilfgaard had been swirling since the mountain, stoking anger among the witchers. Eskel frowned deeply, while Lambert glared, his hand inching toward the hilt of his sword.

“Enough,” Geralt said, his tone calm but firm. He stepped closer to Jaskier, scrutinizing the bard’s wild demeanor. “Jaskier,” he began cautiously, “whatever you’ve heard, whatever they’ve done to you—it’s over. You’re safe now.”

“Safe?” Jaskier scoffed, eyes wide with disbelief. “I don’t even know you! And stop calling me that ridiculous name. My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove.”

The room tensed further. Yennefer, standing off to the side, raised a brow. “Where did you find him?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

“Caught him with a Nilfgaardian convoy,” Lambert replied, his anger barely restrained. He shot Geralt a pointed look. “I told you. Your bard’s a traitor.”

Eskel, his voice somber, added, “I’m sorry, Geralt, but we might have to deal with this more… permanently.”

“No,” Geralt said firmly, stepping between Jaskier and the others. “This isn’t like him. He’s stubborn, annoying, sure—but loyal. Something’s wrong. Why wouldn’t he remember me?”

“Maybe you never knew the *real* Jaskier,” Eskel muttered darkly. “Humans are rarely what they seem.”

Before Geralt could respond, Ciri broke through the circle of tension, moving toward Jaskier despite Lambert’s attempt to hold her back. She studied him closely. “Look at his eyes,” she said, her tone sharp.

“What about them?” Geralt asked.

“They’re not right,” Ciri said. “When he used to sing to me in Cintra, his eyes were blue. Now there’s pink in them.”

Yennefer’s gaze snapped to Jaskier. She crossed the room swiftly, grabbing his face despite his protests. “Hold still, little bird,” she ordered, her voice cold. Jaskier snarled at her—an uncharacteristic venom in his tone.

“Let me go, you witch!” he spat.

Yennefer ignored him, examining him closely before turning to Geralt. “It’s a love spell,” she announced, her voice grim. “Someone’s been tampering with his mind.”

The revelation hung heavy in the air, drawing a stunned silence from the room.

---

Hours later, Geralt sat beside Jaskier in one of Kaer Morhen’s smaller chambers. The bard was lying on the bed, his ankle bound to the frame with a silver chain—a compromise to satisfy the others, who still didn’t trust him. Slowly, Jaskier stirred, groaning softly.

“Oh, my head,” he muttered, blinking groggily. His gaze landed on Geralt, and his face crumpled with guilt. “You must think me awful,” he whispered. “I let myself be used by Nilfgaard.”

“You were under a spell, Jask,” Geralt said gently. “The fault isn’t yours—it’s theirs.”

A bitter laugh escaped Jaskier. “Theirs indeed. My parents, to be precise,” he said, his tone laced with resentment.

“Your parents?” Geralt repeated, stunned.

Jaskier nodded. “After the mountain, I was so angry with you—I wanted to disappear. I thought Lettenhove might be safe. Foolish, really. My parents were waiting with an arranged marriage for me. To a Grand Duke of Nilfgaard, no less.”

Geralt’s face darkened. “And when you refused?”

“They didn’t give me much choice,” Jaskier said bitterly. “I think it was a potion—in my tea, perhaps. One moment, I was myself; the next, I couldn’t think of anything but that Duke. Making him happy, obeying his every whim…” His voice cracked. “It was like I wasn’t even me anymore.”

Geralt clenched his fists, his anger simmering. “And when Nilfgaard realized who you were?”

“They saw an opportunity,” Jaskier said quietly. “They wanted to use me to get to you.”

For a moment, neither spoke. Then Geralt leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Jaskier’s forehead. “You’re safe now,” he said softly.

Jaskier let out a shaky breath. “I hope so,” he murmured. “Because I don’t think I can survive being their pawn again.”

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tht0nesimp · 5 months ago

Text

indulgent Drabble…

Idea: so have any of you guys seen those AU things where it’s like being a Yandere is a normal thing, so if you’ve seen season four you know about the wrong timeline things so like what if they ended up in one of those or this was one or something, this is probably not very well written…

tw: spoilers but not like specific instances just like information,Yandere bcs…it’s my blog, kidnapping, non consensual…everything?, normalized stuff idefk , Five is inspired by a Yandere five fic I read once I won’t even lie

thinking of them all having their little darlings and how they treat them >.<

Luther’s darling is getting it probably some of the best, he pays, and he really wants them to love him! Really! He just…don’t get mad when he breaks all your stuff, he knows that you had an ex and that the object was important, but you can’t be mad! People see you two and are probably a little off put because likely you are dwarfed by him unless your a body builder or something, he doesn’t mind, just please don’t make him do anything….:(

Diego and a little spitfire, they’re likely someone Hellbent on fighting it, clawing and biting. Hair frazzled, likely to have a hole or tear in they're clothes—he doesn’t really mind, even when he has to drag you into the mansion, the others having some level of understanding of what he’s going through because…they’ve all done it, to varying degrees of lengths and extremities. He never felt healthy love before and it’s damn sure his dad don’t love ‘em so he truly doesn’t understand why you can’t just accept love?

Allison who makes sure her precious little mannequin is well known as hers, people envy you, an amazing actor with enough money to last a lifetime?! You might be able to run off and find a closet to huddle up in at home, but she won’t be patient with misbehavior in front of the media, you will find yourself on the wrong side of a chain if you try anything. Probably not a big fan of introducing you to people personally, she loves the flashy couples stuff; at least 2 dozen roses might make up for it? Right?

Klaus is barely making it, his other siblings likely pay for and/or babysit for him. He doesn’t snap very often like his siblings, he sees you as an angel! But, not a person. Truly, I think not only would the being forced to be around a very active addict but he won’t let you do anything outside of a hobby or two! He rarely leaves you alone, and to be honest he probably uses a chain or restraints all the time because even if he can come back, he’s not physically the strongest guy—but past that, he’s always eager to help you with bathing or eating or baking or drawing or writing or drinking or meditating or relaxing or sleeping or making the bed or cleaning up or driving or going outside(ofc with him, can’t have his little martyr running around! What if someone recognizes you as his and and and the debt collectors collect you!?) or any possible task, he’ll learn to cook or bake so you don’t have to! Just ignore the small white grains on his credit card….please! He won’t get angry commonly, if ever, but in the very rare chance he gets angry it’s best to just shut up and try not to make the voice begging him to tie you back up any louder.

Five and the little doll he carries around, always looking lost and glazed over, or maybe a girl who is eerily like him, either way, he’s dressing them up in whatever he wants. He likely drugs them pretty consistently, it makes him feel good to have someone who will thank him when he takes care of them, even if they don’t know what’s going on whatsoever. His siblings are surprised at the ice cream dates and picnics he sets up, people smile at him when he goes to get you a milkshake, the guy behind the bar laughing when five pours a little packet of powder into your drink and stirs it—happily accepting the man’s offer to top up your whipped cream, so you don’t get distressed about it—all in all, atleast his darling will never have to do anything for themselves…ever again

Viktor happily plays instruments for you, learning your favorites so he can serenade and impress you. He tries to be as accommodating as possible, so patient and okay with your panic that he succeeds in comforting you. He’ll even let you help him at the bar once you get settled in, people find it adorable when you and him work together you don’t really do anything

They probably don’t have playdates very often, but the most to least well behaved would probably go

Viktors darling—Viktors humanity pays off, and his darling likely comes to terms pretty quickly, asking him nicely for things and even letting him touch them willingly!

Luther’s darling—All in all, they probably don’t have all too much to complain about. They’re awkward, but the darling isn’t clawing at him or anything

Allison’s darling—no cameras? Her darling is probably playing a Nintendo switch on a couch somewhere in the mansion, avoiding the wackos

fives darling—He’s trying, and so are they, but they’re a little out of it most of the time. I won’t give them credit for behaving because they don’t even know they’re doing something good by clinging to torso they wake up on every morning or by not biting the hand that feeds them dinner every night

Klaus Darling—Trying to run like all hell, but klaus just pulls them into whatever room has been set up for the meetup and wraps a friendly arm around them for the rest of the event

Diego’s darling—Biting at him, breaking things, all hell will break loose and he will be chuckling at his siblings as his darling tries to stab him with a fork

—

Maybe I should write more in depth personal series about it??? Who would yall wanna see first??? All of them?? SEASON 4 IS STUPID AND I HATE IT >:(

#Yandere umbrella academy #Yandere five hargreeves #Yandere viktor hargreeves #yandere diego #Yandere Allison #yandere male #yandere blog #fandom #umbrella academy #umbrella academy fic #yandere scenarios #how do we feel about this???#CandiesActualFics

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year ago

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LOST IN OUR VICES | ONE

Chapter Summary | A chance encounter with a handsome stranger sets off a chain of events that could all end in disaster. It's hard to say no when it feels so good though.

Pairing | Professor!Marcus Pike x Student F!Reader

Chapter Warnings | Dubious ethical relationship between a professor & student, Marcus tells a lie, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of academia, academic failure and strained parental relationships, gratuitous descriptions of London because I live here and I love it, some heavy making out and some heavy petting, no use of y/n.

Authors Note | WELL HERE SHE IS. I have no idea how to tell you how much I am loving this so far. Professor Pike has well and truly rotted my brain so y'all have to suffer with me okay? It's gonna be fun, I promise. I would LOVE to know what you all think about this so feel free to scream at me incumbents, reblogs and asks! As always, a huge thank you to @undercoverpena for reading this over and making sure it isn't utter tripe. ILY. And to @saradika for the beautiful divider.

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’s seen her there every day he’s visited the past month. Sitting on the bench, looking up at the same sculpture - a woman carved from marble - sketching into a notepad. He stands this time and watches as her finger tucks some hair behind her ear, brushing it out of her face. She looks up and tilts her head a little, eraser end of her pencil sitting between her teeth as she thinks, tracers a portion of the statue before her head is back down, looking at the page as she continues to draw.

She’s beautiful, there’s no denying it, she’s been beautiful every time he’s seen her. There’s something lonely about her too, the way she sits there on her own, artefacts and artworks for company. She’s just like him really, uprooted from a life he was no longer satisfied with, four years of a PhD and now the letters of Dr before his name. Moved to London, a new city, a fresh start as he’d coined it to his family, but he’s been here three years now, and not one thing that he wanted from his move have materialised. He knows the therapy was good for him, he knows that his haste to find someone was probably what was making him scare people off, but he doesn’t much like the other side of the coin either - a modest flat in London to himself, a small group of friends who sit around and drink beer and droll on about their academic passions, but no-one he can really call his own right now.

Dr. M Pike. Professor of Art History. That’s what his doorplate says, one of many in the small corridor at UCL. Three years and he’s still not quite sure how he made it here, or if it’s really what he wants, but it beats whatever he was doing back in D.C. that’s for sure. It had seemed like the best thing to do at the time, but when Lisbon had told him she wasn’t coming, everything about it seemed wrong, soiled somehow, by the life he’d built in his mind being torn up by someone who, looking back, had never really wanted him in the first place.

He thought about talking to her the first day he’d seen her, but then realised he was actually here to prepare for one of his teaching seminars, so squirrelled himself away to another room instead. The second time he’d seen her, she’d looked too engrossed on whatever she was working on, and then every other time, he’s convinced himself she’s here for peace, not to be bothered by some random man. But there’s something about the way she is today that makes the pull harder to resist, so he says fuck it, shoves his hands into his trouser pockets and walks over.

“You come here often?”

It’s an American accent that pulls you from your work. His voice jolts your hand, makes you press your pencil into paper too hard and at the wrong angle. You suck in a deep breath, try not to think about the hours of work he’s just ruined by startling you. You’re about to turn around and complain when he comes into your vision.

He’s tall, broad shoulders covered in a light dress shirt, two buttons undone so you can see a flash of tanned skin and a smattering of hair. It’s tucked into dark jeans, a belt keeping them tight to his trim waist. And then there’s his face - a beard, but only just and friendly brown eyes, a full mouth too. He’s handsome, there’s no way around it.

“Sorry, that was awful,” The mystery man scratches the back of his neck, “I just come here a lot and I think I’ve seen you here every time for the past month.”

You smile at that, that you’re someone he’s been picking out amongst the crowd of tourists who always come here, someone familiar to him, even if he’s not the same to you.

“I’m just working on something.” You shrug, letting your palm slyly cover the sketch you’ve been making.

The man walks in front of you slightly, takes a seat on the vacant spot on the bench and looks up at the woman carved from marble, “She’s beautiful.” He muses.

“She is.” You agree, looking over the curves of her hips, the way the marble has been carved to make it look like her clothes are wet, sticking to her breasts like she’s just climbed out of the Aegean Sea.

“You like sculpture then?”

“I do,” You nod, turning your body a little towards him, “It’s not my first artistic passion, but I’m studying for my PhD at the moment and it’s all about the female form in marble.”

“Brains as well as beauty,” He smirks a little at you, “Sounds interest though, where are you studying?”

“UCL,” You beam, because you’re proud, it wasn’t easy, you’d been rejected for your first choice research project the first time around, encouraged to choose something else from the feedback, but you were there now, and that’s what mattered, “What about you?” You ask, “What do you do that means you have to be here as much as me?”

He shrugs a little, “I teach.”

It’s vague but you don’t press, he owes you nothing, so you let it lie. You turn back to the sculpture in front of you, when your stomach grumbles. You look down at your watch. It’s 2pm and you’ve not eaten anything yet.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.” You reply meekly.

“Want to grab something to eat?” He asks, “I know a great Italian place in Soho if you fancy it?”

You look at him, eyes tightening a little. It’s been so long since anyone has shown you an ounce of interest, and now the beautiful man in a shirt and dress pants wants to take you for lunch, it all seems a bit too good to be true. But, you can hear the voice of your therapist tell you to say yes to more things, take more risks in life because not all of them are going to turn out to be bad, so you flip the front of your notepad over to cover your drawing and reach down to pick up your backpack.

“Lead the way.”

He doesn’t disappoint. Over the course of a glass of wine and a bowl of olives, you coax out his name. It’s Marcus. He’s got a PhD in Art History and moved to London from D.C. three years ago. He lives alone, near Notting Hill, he likes it because he can go searching for antiques on the weekend. He wants a dog, but he spends too much time out of the house to justify one. He likes to read and he can cook, but prefer eating out or ordering in because he’s not mastered the art of cooking for one.

When a waiter sets down your second glass of wine and your food - gnocchi with pesto and bacon for you and carbonara from Marcus, he turns the conversation back to you, sipping wine as he ask you where you live - Willesden Green, so not far from you - who you live with - myself, my dad was so proud I got into my course he pays for my rent, it’s the only way he can show he loves me - what you like to do with your free time - free time? When I have it, I read, or I walk, or I sit and draw sculptures in museums.

You don’t know whether it’s the wine or not, but the dark winter sinks in, outside cloaked in black, lights dimmed inside, and it makes him even more handsome than he was before. He makes you laugh, with his stories of his own PhD stress, how he would walk the streets of D.C. at 3am to get coffee and pancakes on his way back from the library and then collapse into bed and sleep for two hours until his alarm would wake him up and he would go all the way back to the library to do it again.

“If I ever get to that point,” You muse, stabbing a piece of gnocchi onto your fork, “I don’t think I’ll have the will to make it through.”

“You seem far too organised to me to fall into the bad habits I had.” He shrugs, looking at you over his own glass of wine as you take a bite of your food, too busy watching him to really notice the angle of your fork, green sauce smearing on the corner of your mouth as you fight it into your mouth.

Before you have a chance to reach down and grab the napkin from your lap, Marcus is reaching over the table, using the pad of his thumb to wipe the stray sauce away. It’s something that under any other circumstance would make you feel uncomfortable, but all it really makes you want to do is kiss him, especially when he apologises profusely for being so forward.

He pays for dinner, insists on it really, hidden behind the excuse that he knows how hard it is to live whilst studying. He takes you for cocktails at a bar on the end of Old Compton Street - orders himself an old fashioned whilst you opt for an amaretto sour. The bar is dark and busy, the only seats are in a corner, sat so close together your knees are touching and your shoulder is slightly leaned into his side.

“So, you said you got rejected from your first choice course?” He muses, taking a short sip of his drink.

You shrug with a nod, “I wanted to research the impressionist movement,” You start to explain, “I love Monet and Renoir but I think my research application was too broad,” Sipping your own drink you carry on talking, “There’s a great academic at UCL, Professor Pike, I was desperate to have him as my supervisor, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

You turn your head a little, watching as Marcus swallows on nothing, quickly taking another sip of his drink.

“It’s okay,” You hasten to add, “I guess if I’m not writing thousands of words about it, it won’t make me hate what I love most.”

“Smart,” Is what he says with a smirk, “You would have given him a run for his money anyway.”

“Do you know him?” You ask, “I know all of you academic types are familiar with each other.”

He swallows on nothing again, “I’ve heard of him but I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

You both order another drink, sit around talking about nothing much at all, slowly moving closer as the bar gets busier, you tell yourself it’s just so you can hear him better, but he smells good, some kind of musky cologne that suits him really well, so you don’t complain about soaking it up.

When it gets late, he offers to take you home, keep you company on the tube. You know it’s not really necessary, you’ve never felt particularly unsafe walking home from the station, but if it means spending more time with him, then you don’t really mind. He lets you take the only free seat on the tube, standing in the aisle just in front of your knees so he can keep talking to you, and when you reach the other side, he walks close to you, puts a hand on your lower back which you can feel through your jacket when a group of people walk past you a little too close. He even insists on walking you to your door.

It’s quiet in the building, like it usually is. It’s only recently been built and you think you’re one of only a few people who are currently living there. You pluck your keys from your coat pocket when you reach your door, leaning your back against it.

“This is me.”

“Nice place.”

“Yeah, although I usually prefer places with more character.”

He’s stood right in front of you, rocking on his heels, that same nervous hand on the back of his neck as this afternoon, “I know this might seem weird, but would you like to go on a date sometime?”

You can help but snort a laugh, shaking your head a little, before you meet his eyes, “This wasn’t a date?” You ask coyly.

He smirks a little, cheeks flushing a little, “Did you want it to be a date?”

“I wouldn’t have let you take me for lunch if I didn’t,” You say, “But there is one thing missing.”

“Oh yeah?” He hums, “What’s that?”

Instead of speaking, you take a step forward, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket as you press up onto your toes and plant your lips on his. It’s clumsy and it’s impulsive, but you’ve wanted to do it all day. You can feel his arms wrapping around your back, dragging your body flush to his as he opens his mouth against yours right as you do the same. He tastes like mint from the gum he’s been chewing and the whisky from his drinks - it’s all you can think about as he walks you back, presses you against the door as his tongue meets with yours.

You’re thankful no-one is around. Your arms move from his jacket to wrap around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the curls there as you tilt your head to one side, a slight smacking sound from your lips as the disconnect, only to come back together seconds later. He’s good at this, you think, as his hands drop from your back to rest in the pockets on the back of your jeans, palms warm through the material. You can feel him squeeze you there a little, and you’re so close to saying fuck it and inviting him in, because if his lips are this good against yours, you can’t imagine what they’d be like in other places.

Marcus is the one that pulls away from you, resting his forehead gently to yours. You’re both breathless and you’re itching to press your mouth back to his.

“I should go.” He breathes against your mouth, pressing his lips to your in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah,” You agree, “You should.”

He steps back, takes the warmth of his palms with him, but reaches in to his pocket and hands his phone to you, “Put your number in here and I’ll call you.”

So you do, press the eleven digits into his phone along with your name and then kiss him once more before he’s turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you with a dull ache between your thighs that you’re working on relieving within five minutes of getting inside. You’re fucked.

Marcus curses himself as he settles into the seat on the bus. It’s late enough that it’s not too busy, no-one sitting next to him as he leans his head back and runs his hand over his face. He already knows he’s fucked up. The words Professor Pike and rejected from my first choice spinning around in his brain as he watches parts of North London flash past the window on his ride home.

Why hadn’t he stopped it then? He knows the rules, knows that even though he doesn’t teach her, any kind of relationships with students, no matter how mature, are off limits. And how is he supposed to keep the facade up now? It’s only a matter of time before she puts two and two together and figures out who he really is.

You’re sweet and you’re smart and you’re fucking beautiful and the best kisser he thinks he’s ever met. You have so much in common with him that it actually hurts him a little and one stupid choice to keep lying to you and the fucking ethics policy are going to keep him from something he thinks would actually be fucking good for him.

He thinks for a second, pulling out his phone and looking at your contact card that he should probably just delete your number. It’s for the best for everyone. He could avoid the museum for a while, keep his head low on campus, he knows he can avoid you. But with his finger hovering over the delete confirmation, he finds he doesn’t have the strength to do it. Stuffs his phone back in his pocket and tries to will his mind to forget the way you’d gasped into his mouth when his hands had squeezed at the swell of your ass, or the way your lips had been soft against his when he’d kissed you.

Then, led in bed, frustrations sorted by his own hand, he picks up his phone and damns himself to hell with a single text.

How about a walk around the National Gallery and dinner this weekend?

#Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x f!reader #Marcus Pike smut #Marcus Pike #marcus pike fanfiction #Marcus Pike fanfic #Marcus Pike fic #Pedro pascal #Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal #the mentalist #the mentalist fic #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #Marcus Pike fluff #Marcus Pike au #pedro characters #pedrostories

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prncssie · 1 year ago

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STRAWBERRY MERINGUE

caution! mdni 6k wrdz, hobie smokes weed, you’re drunk n contact high, you get it blown in your face, exhibitionism, kinda voyeurism, use of the word nigga, use of the word pussy and cunt, public sex, fingering f. receiving, oral m. receiving, sharing of cum, degradation barely ( use of the word bitch and slut once), choking but not really, brat taming if you squint, unprotected sex, pull out method, lmk if i missed anything! pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

hobie takes a long drawl of the blunt between his lips. his eyes are half lidded and his head is tilted back. in the dim lighting, you can barely tell his scleras are red but they are, pupils low and moving slow across the scenery.

he’s careful, knowing that you hate the smell. he doesn’t get it, though. you grumble every time he sparks up, claiming the smell reminds you of body odor, until you’re intoxicated yourself.

tonight, you’re indulging a bit, drunk off mixed liquors so you don’t mind. it’s the last thing you’re thinking about when he sits up and slots his mouth over yours. he blows the smoke into you, ending with a sloppy kiss.

you don’t smoke, or at least that’s what you claim. in a way, you don’t, never actually putting the paper to your lips. you just steal whatever hobie gives you because in your pretty, little head, it’s somehow better.

your body feels heavy. you’re so crossed, not thinking about how you’re tonguing hobie down in front of his friends. they’re not paying you much attention, either. this isn’t surprising, not with the explicit details hobie sometimes shares. it happens every party anyway. as long as you are both intoxicated, you’re unable to keep your hands off each other.

you mewl when he adjusts you in his lap, one hand on your back to draw you forward. your eyes flutter and your hands run over the navy blue mesh of his top. his tongue piercing is warm and bumping against the roof of your mouth.

you’re straddling his lap, standing out in the group of punks with your sparkly pink tank top and denim miniskirt. underneath you, hobie is your opposite in low waisted jeans, distressed and dark. his chains are layered and occasionally clink against each other when he moves.

you’re so in love with him and his little v line, peeking through the sliver of skin visible. you’re too greedy, grinding against his studded belt. the rhinestones don’t bump and graze your sensitive parts enough.

“mm mm,” he hums against your lips. “not here.” he kisses your cheek and creates just a bit of space between you in an attempt to keep you settled. his heart swells at the adorable disappointment in your eyes but he knows better than to comment on it. you like to villainize whatever you can to get your way and he doesn’t want to deal with you the way he usually does right here with everyone’s somewhat watchful eyes.

you sulk when he grins. he only tunes you out and takes another huff of the rolled blunt. “you jealous?” he chuckles at the expression riri, one of his bandmates, sports.

her face is contorted in disgust, being the unfortunate one to catch you two at the wrong time. “no, you’re just gross. i’ve never seen a couple so all over each other than you.”

hobie merely raises his shoulders in a halfhearted shrug. “i told you she was coming. you knew what that meant.” he exhales the smoke in your face again, mockingly sneering at his friend when you welcome it.

you barely hear their conversation between the insatiable throbbing in your core and the need to get inside hobie’s skin. you cling on to him and rest your head in the crook of his neck. he rubs your side while you mindlessly litter dark purple hickies along his collar. his hands come up to graze your arm.

it’s his party, or rather, their party. in celebration, his band decided to have a small get together to celebrate the release of their mixtape. it was supposed to be small. now it’s turned into a house party with the amount of plus ones in attendance.

the music causes a buzz in your bloodstream. you’re delirious and horny out of your mind. somewhere down the line, you made the conscious decision to down a hefty amount of casamigos and now you’re dealing with the consequences. “ ‘bie,” you snivel. you take his hand and guide it in between your bodies until his fingers are over the growing and slightly damp spot over your panties. you pant when he applies pressure, swiping aimlessly back and forth.

the dull ache in your stomach is heightened because of his toying. your drunken mind has you trying to push down on him, only for him to remove his hand with a click of his tongue. “i told you not here. gonna have to wait, pretty girl.”

hobie can’t tell if he’s seeing things when your lips tremble. he squints, both trying to examine the details through the haze and deter you from throwing a tantrum. you’re already halfway there, assuming he doesn’t care about what you want. you’re just about to give him a piece of your mind when you’re interrupted, timed perfectly.

“hey hobes?”

both your heads turn, spotting another band member stood to the side.

karl looks untroubled as he crashes somewhere on the couch. he hums as he gets comfortable, eyes scanning the crowd with a mischievous smile. “won’t believe what i gotta tell you.

“yeah?” hobie dangles one long arm off the back of the couch. he rests his head on his shoulder. the action both distracts and reminds you of your mission to decorate him in love bites.

you’re unaware of how karl turns, nodding his head in your direction. “some fucker wants to get to know your girl. saw us walking around and thought we were cool, thinks I can make something happen.”

you remain unaware still. the words don’t click in your head, no matter that hobie is speaking right here with you in his lap.

“oh?” he laughs a bit at the thought. it doesn’t bother him and happens more frequently than one would think. he’s gotten used to their gross antics but he doesn’t feel jealous. no, he’s pleased. pleased that someone else can recognize that he’s got the best girl. “hear that, princess? got a second boyfriend.” his eyes are downcast and on you.

you’re too dazed and busy to listen, covering every part of his skin until there is no space left. “don’t care,” you murmur. you’re not sure what you’re uncaring towards but it doesn’t matter. not when there are more important tasks to deal with.

hobie pulls you up by the neckline. he’s not shocked when you’re already glaring at him, convinced that, at this point, he’s torturing you. “you should. it’s rude to not speak to someone, you know.”

you feel so incredibly petulant beyond words. you blow a short breath through your nose. it takes you a second to find it, find your tone and patience. unfortunately, you can’t. “huh?” you snap.

fortunately, hobie doesn’t care. “you got a valentine or whatever the fuck. should go to talk to him.”

you know it’s not really a request.

it’s a game you both play, showing off your relationship to anyone who’ll see. as much as you hate being ripped away from him at times like this, you enjoy the game, too. it usually ends all hot and heavy, just how you like it.

before you’re standing he holds up a finger to karl, motioning the man to wait. hobie brings the blunt to his lip and immediately shotguns it into yours. he’s nasty about it, a hand groping your ass and rolling your hips down into his.

“jesus christ,” karl mutters. his face is scrunched up and even if the dark lighting, you can tell his cheeks are firetruck red.

yeah, showing off your relationship to anyone who’ll see.

you grin, patting karl’s shoulder as you stand. admittedly, you stumble a bit. your balance is all fucked up and you probably aren’t making the best decisions. “this will be you one day, bud.”

karl takes your hand in his. he can already tell you won’t be able to make it across the room without aid. you probably haven’t stood up since you sat down, too busy damn near dry humping hobie. “gee, i can only hope.”

hobie sighs, a deep rumble spreads in his chest. “not a scratch, karl.” he takes his eyes over you from head to toe, as slow as he can afford. they starting at your heels, up to the buns on either side of your head.

“we’re gonna go pimp her out, not to war.” the other rolls his eyes, trading his hand in yours to your elbow, both for more support and because he doesn’t know where you put it.

you both begin your trek around the quite spacious living room. you don’t know where you’re going and occasionally, you’re tripping over yourself. it’s not all that bad. most of the fault is because you decided to wear heels and even though they were thick and blocky, it didn’t do much in your current state.

your ankle wobbles and karl has to yank you upright. he doesn’t know how you haven’t injured yourself by now. maybe you are going to war, but with yourself. “what the hell? how much did you drink?”

you giggle with a shake of your head. “didn’t count. it’s fine! ‘m not blacked, just tipsy, maybe. oh and a little high.” you’re really not that far under the influence, you think. most of the influence is pure lust and when it’s subtracted from the occasion, you’re all bubbly.

karl looks over your shoulder. his attention is behind you and you see him wave someone over. “yeah well, try not to bust your ass. i’m calling that guy over now. his name is fuckin’ max or something like that.”

you completely forgot that’s what you came over for. it’s only been a few steps but between your bumbling and laughter, it slipped your mind. “oh. are you gonna stick around?”

“hell no,” karl sucks in his breath. his face twists and he points in pinky at hobie. “i don’t wanna be here when he gets up. you two are bad enough when you’re calm.”

sure enough, he’s still watching with a clear view from the couch in the corner. he lifts his fingers and wiggles them in a wave. you lick your lips at the sight of his hands. your pussy throbs at the thought of them pushing deep inside you.

“yeah, i’m out.” karl waves his hand in front of your face to get your attention. “i’ll be around if you need me. just call, i’ll hear you.” he doesn’t want to experience what you freaks are about to get into but he also doesn’t want to leave you here, faded with a man you don’t know.

he waits until the trade off happens and you’re left semi alone. you’re not exactly shy but nothing comes to mind. you’re uninterested, having already committing yourself to another. “max?”

“mark,” he says. he doesn’t look like anything interesting. sagging his jeans and wearing an ill fitting shirt. definitely not your type. if you lost him in a crowd, he’d disappear. his first mistake would be losing you in the first place.

however, if you want to be tossed onto the nearest surface, you have to push through it. “oh my gosh, i’m so sorry!” you flash a smile. you rock back on your feet, only to trip over yourself. without karl holding you up, you find yourself grasping for balance. an honest giggle leaves your lips at your clumsiness but it’s mistaken for delight.

mark’s hands grab at your waist and your first thought is how they don’t compare. they’re much smaller and he definitely isn’t handling you with care. you have to remind yourself not to frown when you’re jostled back onto your feet. “havin’ a lot of fun tonight? your nigga didn’t stop you?”

you can’t stop looking at his hand still holding on to you. if you weren’t turned off by his appearance, you are now with his lack of awareness. you make an excuse to bump his hand off when you “adjust” the top of your shirt. “who, karl? karl and i are not . . . definitely not.”

in mark’s head, this means you don’t have one. even if you did, there’s much doubt he’d care. “so what? you don’t have one then. you want one?”

“um . . .” you flick your eyes over to hobie. you know he’s still watching and knows it’s a universal sign that you can’t take anymore of this. “i do have one. just not him so . . .” you gather your hands together and curl them into each other.

“you can’t have friends? we don’t gotta do nothin’, just chill.” he speaks with his hands. they’re waving all in the air and smacking against each other. typically it wouldn’t annoy you but you really just don’t like this guy. “i mean, you don’t gotta tell him. he ain’t gonna go shit, anyway.”

you scoff to yourself. before you have a chance to defend your lanky little stick bug, a familiar presence subtly appears at your side.

you turn to him before he’s even looking at you.

his hand is on your cheek, gingerly. hobie isn’t glaring, nor is he smug but there’s something about him. as if he knows something mark doesn’t. and he does. he knows mark doesn’t stand a chance, knows he’s going to be upset someone like hobie has you wrapped around his finger. he knows he’s not going like the way he dresses and talks. he’s going to go off to his friends and call hobie a bitch and whatever other caveman words he can think of.

that’s exactly why he doesn’t stand a chance.

“made a new friend?” hobie finally looks at you. his gaze softens immediately and he moves forward to kiss your lips.

“something like that.” you sigh sweetly. even with your shoes, you don’t compare to his height. you have to pull yourself up. your aim is to deepen the kiss, biting his bottom lip when he doesn’t oblige.

hobie only pats your butt and you pout. “thanks for comin’, man. we really appreciate it.” he doesn’t offer any sign of respect. it won’t be returned. call him mean, say he’s stereotyping, but he has enough experience to know when someone will appreciate his presence and when someone won’t.

mark grimaces. he gives hobie a once over, obviously not happy with what he’s seeing. “this is your thing? shit. if i knew that, i wouldn’t have came.”

you feel something vile bubbling up in your throat. your stomach churns at his words. how dare he? he looks like every other person in the room, in this place that hobie pays for, and insults him like he’s worth something.

“well, it’s a good thing i told you then, huh? leave if you want to. have a good night.” hobie speaks before you do. he wraps his arm around your shoulder and slots his hand over your mouth. knowing your temper, he doesn’t need you making anything worse.

you both watch him stalk off in two different moods. hobie is just as calm as ever. he lets his aggression roll of his back like nothing. meanwhile, you’re grumbling about what a terrible person he is, how you don’t like him and anything you stands for.

“dumb bitch. that’s why you’re weird and bitchless.” you’re more upset he ruined the way things are supposed to go. hobie is supposed to take you in his arms and fluster both you and the third person. instead, you end up grumpy.

hobie chuckles. he massages your shoulder, adoringly watching you go on and on about how he sucks. “yeah? what’d he say to you?”

the thought alone has you groaning and going on another spiel. “he asked if you let me ‘have friends’ and ‘i don’t have to tell you’.” you crinkle your nose. as if you’d ever cheat and lie about it, or lie about anything at all. there’s no secrets in between you two and if there is any ever hesitation, it comes out eventually when the other person is ready. you can’t imagine keeping anything from him with ill intent. “you should have clocked him in the jaw,” you pivot and face him. you’re extra careful not to do it too fast and wrap your arms around his thin waist.

“while you’re standing right here? not gonna do that.” he hooks his hands under your arms and lifts you onto his waist. “you get hurt and i’ll blow this whole place up.”

with your little skirt, half your ass is out. you squeal, a hand going down to maintain as much modesty as you can. hobie is no help. he doesn’t care. his freak ass wants someone to see. getting rid of one person doesn’t mean everyone else’s eyes are no longer wandering.

he takes you back over to your original resting spot without struggle despite your wiggling and complaining that he isn’t doing anything to help you. he plops back down back, smirking when you’re bouncing from the impact. your hands fly to his shoulders to steady yourself.

“you’re done smoking?” you look around the group and don’t see a blunt in sight. it’s surprising from them, considering they always pass around multiple in rotation every night. you were only gone for a few minutes.

“i am. they’re not.” hobie pulls the strap of your top up. it’s fallen and despite the view of your tits he got, he didn’t particularly want everyone else to see them. not yet, at least.

he runs his hands along the tops of your thighs, straddling him. his thumb dips dangerously on the inner and dig into your bikini line when they run high.

you draw a breath, zeroing in on the action. “oh. why?” you can’t hear him when the need comes crashing back, just as strongly as it did before. you were under the impression this wouldn’t be happening and had no idea he planned on doing it here.

hobie likes you like this. he can never really describe it but you melt so easily. one touch, one graze of his fingertips and you’re all soft. it’s nice you can keep up with his libido but it’s even better when he can keep up with yours. “ ‘cause i don’t want to. why do you think?”

you don’t know what to think right now. not when his thumb grazes over your clit so slowly. it’s always you who’s so worked up while he’s so lax.

you rut against him, lip tucked under your teeth. you don’t know where to put your hands without making it obvious. he’s occupying the space in your lap and you wouldn’t dare clench the front of his shirt.

you settle for behind you, resting on your calves. in hindsight, it has the opposite effect but you’re all dizzy. you pant when he rolls the bud under his pads of his finger. you’re simultaneously regretting and rejoicing in the fact that you decided to wear a thong for the outfit. it’s thin and does nothing to dull the feeling.

a hand reaches into your peripheral. you can see the rolled smoke in between it’s fingers but you can’t be bothered to look over and see who it belongs to.

“thanks,” hobie acknowledges it. he leans into it to take his puff and tilts his head back. the remnants are released in the air rather than your face. the smell mixes with his cologne, musky and woodsy. you wouldn’t like it any other time but now. now, any part of him makes your pussy wet.

“thought you weren’t smoking,” you tilt your hips up and further into his hand.

he lets you, wanting you to become as unnerved as possible. “i wasn’t, then. i am, now.” his attention flicks down to your crotch. hobie wishes the lighting is a little better. he can’t see anything like this. sure, he can see his actions but he can’t see the effect it has on you. he can feel the damp spot when his fingers drift too far down and push into you as far as your underwear will allow.

you squirm, tempted to tug it to the side yourself. you can’t breathe under the pressure of need. how much longer is he going to delay this?

“stop movin’,” he squeezes your hip. “i let you act like act like a bitch in heat for a second but now you’re gettin’ greedy.” he doesn’t usually speak to you like this but when he does, it has you gushing. you keen while your head hangs low.

you clench your hands into fists and screw your eyes shut. “sorry.” you say while giving him your best attempt to sit still.

“and look at me. i’m playing with your cute little pussy. the least you can do is look at me.”

you shake your head in refusal but make eye contact with him, anyway. you’re shy, not because he’s toying with you, but because he’s toying with you in front of his friends, in front of everyone here.

“there you go,” he quietly praises you just under his breath, “there she is.” hobie nudges his way against you, nose poking at your neck. “it’s too bad i can’t suck on it till you’re creaming.”

you jump, your shoulder meeting your ear. it’s unintentional, following the way his breath tickles your skin. “don’t say that,” your voice is all watery.

he pulls the your baby blue panties to the side and sucks his teeth. his eyes are rolling at your words. “don’t say that? i have my fingers deep inside you and you’re telling me not to say that?”

“you don’t – ”

your body falls forward when it happens, when hobie plunges in his fingers without warning. your mouth drops open, knees digging into his side when your legs attempt to close. “ohh,” it leaves your mouth long and drawn out. the sudden stretch of his pointer and middle finger makes your body curl.

“someone just sold me these shrooms.”

you hear the crinkle of a bag somewhere nearby and the sound only gets louder. you can assume it’s being passed around but your blood is pumping in your ears. you breathe heavily, mindlessly sinking your teeth into his shoulder.

“i’d let you hold ‘em, hobes, but . . .”

his body shakes underneath you when he laughs lightly. his fingers don’t stop their incessant movements, stroking your walls. “all good. how much did you pay?”

you writhe when hobie digs into your spot, the palm of his hand bumping against your clit. you can feel a small stream of drool pooling out of your cheek. it’s more so with how chaotic you are, tongue and teeth relishing at his neck.

you feel a heavy arm stilling you against him despite your struggle.

“don’t mind her. she’s just being a baby ‘bout it.” he doesn’t apologize for his explicit acts. he apologizes for your distracting reactions, for your quiet moans. it unnerves you.

here you are, worked up and dripping in front of your boyfriend’s friends. they’re so casual about it and as much as you hate to remember, they’re not wrong to be. hobie gets off on this and by default, you do too.

“is she a baby or are you an absolute ass?”

“you’re gonna irritate me and i’m gonna take it out on her.” his lips is upturned and lazy. “so how much did you pay for it?”

you don’t care to listen to the rest of the conversation. you’re very obviously grinding downward to feel him deeper and it only results in you tightening around him with a gasp. you’re weakly tugging his face until he’s turned around.

he’s not exactly thrilled to be interrupted from his conversation but he takes pity and gives in. your lip connect, tongues immediately tangling with each other. your saliva mixes and he sucks on your tongue to satiate you. on occasion, your teeth bump and crash against each other but it doesn’t discourage you. you only lean into it.

his fingers increase their pace and he ignores the cramp in his wrists. he juts his fingers against the spot that has you digging your nails into him.

this is so surreal. you and your friends always like fun at the people who get off at your college parties. you’ve told hobie the stories in the past but he seemed disinterested. now, you’re those people at those parties and it doesn’t sound as bad.

“you cummin’?” he whispers to you and you alone. he prefers to this part to himself, only you two knowing without speculation.

your lifting your hips to escape the stimulation, mouth running dry from the way it hangs open. “mhm,” you squeal. the ball wound up tight in your core releasing, accompanying spurts of cream.

your chest heaving as you gulp out air. hobie pulls his fingers out with a low squelch only he can hear. a low whistle leaves his lips at the where his fingers glisten. you’re expecting him to press them to your tongue but your eyes widen when they continue to extend outwards. instead, they’re all in riri’s mouth.

they’re both eyeing you and you don’t know what to do. your attention darts between the both of them before focusing on the floor. your hands fiddle with your skirt. your face is burning, your whole body is.

“damn hobes,” she mumbles.

you can still feel their gaze on you, thick and heavy.

his hands are running from your back to your calves and back up again. the saliva is smearing over your skin. “i know. it’s better right from the source.” he slides your panties back in there spot and ignore how disappointed you look.

“ ‘bie,” you want to cry. you don’t want to beg in front of everyone but it’s as if he doesn’t care about you.

“stop your whinin’,” he fixes you with a pointed glare. hobie pushes you off his lap til you’re standing. “we’ll be back.” he doesn’t have to explain himself for everyone to understand what’s happening, not that he would anyway. he gets off the couch and takes your hand in his.

hobie takes you with him, guiding you to the bathroom. both your hands are clasped around his and you’re staring at him, wide eyed, rather than your surroundings.

he can feel you watching him. you’re doe eyed and it makes him harder than he already is. it’s as if he’s the only one that can fix it, and he truly is. hobie nearly tosses you into the bathroom. he slams the door behind him and flicks over the lock.

when he turns around, you’re kneeling and pawing at his jeans. you pout when you undo his zipper.

“what’s wrong, pretty?” hobie hooks his fingers under your chin and lifts it to his. “you don’t have to suck it if you don’t want to.”

“it’s not that,” you pull down his jeans . you wrap your fingers around the base and jerk your hand up and down his shaft. “you embarrassed me really bad.” you poke your cheek with your tongue. “can’t face your friends, now.”

hobie pinches your cheek. he mocks your expression before breaking out in a smile. “didn’t look embarrassed fucking yourself on my fingers. i’m not the one who licked your cum off ‘em.” he squeezes your face together until your lips are puckered.

he slaps his tip against your lips and smears the saliva-precum mix across your cheeks. you’re not moving fast enough, too busy telling him “problems” that he couldn’t care about. you don’t even mean them, just want something to irritate him with.

you shut your lips tightly and cross your arms over your chest. he’s only making you more likely to be difficult. you turn your cheek at him and stare at the rug. “not listening to me.”

hobie sighs and runs his hands over his face. he knows you’re delicate and are quick to throw a fit when you feel you have to. if he doesn’t get you under wraps, he’ll have to put in more effort in the long run. “what is it, baby? because the last time i checked, you’re the one who was about to scream my head off because i didn’t take out my dick right then and there.”

you purse your lips harder. “i wasn’t screaming. you’re being dramatic.”

“i’m being dramatic?” he cannot believe you right now. he squats down until you’re levelled with each other. his hand engulfs you by the throat. he doesn’t squeeze, just holds you close. “you’re mad at me because you came. most of it was your work, though. don’t piss me off.”

neither of you say anything for the passing moment. the only movement made is the small nod of your head.

he releases you following a quick peck on your lips. he stands and you’re back to your previous task, swallowing his cock. you hollow your cheeks, hands on his thighs.

hobie grips the sink behind you. he has to siphon his strength to prevent from breaking the counter. he tries, he really does to keep himself from fucking your throat.

he always does start off as gentle, restraining himself. he watches you, watches your spit dribble and froth. his hand strokes the back of your head. he’s all langley, long enough to do so with no problems.

you realize too late when he pushes your head down until you’re choking, eyes watering with your tears. they spill over your eyes when you close them and gasp for air when he lets go.

hobie brushes your tears away while you wheeze. “couldn’t help myself.” he does feel apologetic, although he would definitely do it again. he doesn’t, though. not until you’re ready, sniffling and aligning his cock with your mouth.

you relax as much as you can. after his big push, you down more than the last attempt. you’ve never been able to fit his whole dick in your mouth, considering the length. the rest of it is beneath your hands, being squeezed and rubbed.

he can’t help the way he bucks his hips forward. he does feel guilty when you choke but it’s overwhelmed by the vibrations of your temporary struggle. still, you persist. you suck and slurp despite your need for air. you’re a bit lightheaded and grateful when hobie takes a step back and pulls himself out.

he exhales, thumb pressing on his tip and holding his cock still to discourage himself from cumming. you can’t even fathom how you make him feel. he believes even if you kissed him long enough, he could cum untouched. “you’re so good to me,” he wets his lips, the other hand on the wall. “so good, too good.”

you drink in the praise with a satisfied smile. you wriggle your toes beneath you and decide to take advantage of his lack of attention. your fingers dip between your legs and underneath your underwear.

you lean forward just enough to fingerfuck yourself. it doesn’t feel as good as when he does it, purely because your hands are much smaller than his. “hobie,” you call out to him.

his actions to last longer are almost futile when he meets your big brown eyes. “slut,” he mutters and pulls you to your feet.

you don’t hide your smile when he turns you around by your hips and pushes you down over the counter. he flips your skirt up and yanks your panties down to your ankles.

you don’t give him a chance to tease, pushing your hips back the moment you feel his dick lined up with your slit. you grip the countertop until the tips of your fingers are white and devoid of the red tint.

hobie pushes down on your the small of your back. he trails his thumb over your tramp stamp. he looms over you, your back pressed against his chest. “you’re so pretty, honey. y’know that?” he squeezes your jaw, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. he thinks you look a little better like this, with tear stains streaming down your face and leaving the trails in your powder. the eyeliner you spent so long to perfect is a bit smudged and the highlight in the corner of your hair is gone.

you whine and wiggle your hips. he’s not doing enough. he’s not doing anything but talking about you and that’s not what you want. “stop talking, please.” you feel miserable, shoes clicking against the floor when you shuffle your feet.

“don’t start complainin’, you hear me? i don’t wanna hear it.” he kisses the nape of your neck and rises.

you think nothing of it. you’re awfully confident until he’s grasping your hips and snapping into you. you nearly scream, reaching back and pressing against his stomach.

hobie shoves your hand off his body and holds it instead. “what did i just say?” he much rather you squeeze his hand, nails pressing into his skin. he guides it back to the counter and leaves them both there, his other hand fucking you back onto him.

he’s using you. you can hear the the sound of impact between your skin. you can feel it too, toes curling under the straps of your heels. you can’t keep yourself quiet, moaning into the back of your hand.

for once, hobie doesn’t reprimand you about it. you can already barely stand, forehead resting against the coolness of the composite.

your legs wobble and you’re depending completely on him to hold you up. he’s a little limited in his view, unable to see your breasts bouncing underneath you. he’s not able to see your face, either.

you make up for it in the way you moan. he can hear his name slipping in, muffled in your hand. the other, underneath his, curls and coils. there is no escaping him when you’re pressed against a hard surface and he’s pressed against you.

“ ‘obie,” you pant. you bend your knee and straighten it out as a way to express your pleasure. in the end, he holds it in the air. with both your hands free, you use the hold on the counter to push back against him.

“don’t worry. i got you.” he reaches under your lifted leg, rolling your sensitive nerves between his fingers.

your back arches and you throw your head over his shoulder. your arms tremble as the waves of your orgasm comes crashing against you.

you’re dizzy, falling forward because he fucks you through it. your mouth is open and drool pools over the side. you don’t care. your cunt throbs with over sensitivity and tears begin in your eyes again.

hobie uses your back dimples as leverage. your pleas ring around in his brain but it’s all foggy. he’s so close and it’ll plaguing his thoughts. “sorry, angel. i’m so sorry.” his hand falls beside your eyes. his pace quickens and he has to cover your mouth when you get too loud.

he suddenly pulls out, spewing his cum over your ass. hobie has to take a second behind you, not that you mind. you don’t feel like moving yourself even when your tits are all squished and uncomfortable.

a few minutes pass before he takes some tissue to clean you up with soft touches. “you did so good.” he says, tossing the tissue away and getting another to wipe the slick on your thighs. “my perfect girl. you okay?”

“mhm.” you haven’t gotten up, eyes closed. your hit with an onslaught of sleepiness, your guess is from the waning influence of everything you’ve consumed tonight.

hobie pulls your underwear back up and fixes your skirt back into its place. he pulls your partially limp body up and gathers you in his arms. “are you fallin’ asleep?”

“mhm,” you hum again, coddling into his warmth.

he smiles, hooking his arms under your knees and lifting you into the air. he doesn’t have to ask to know you would love to be left alone to sleep so he takes it upon himself to carry you to his room to rest.

hobie really can’t wait until you wake up and he tells you all about how he fucked you to sleep.

#ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙#the ending is sooooo bad #rushed bc im sleepy!#and also bc i didn’t know how to end it #didn’t live up to my expectations but mayb bc it’s me #might revisit last???#astv hobie #hobie brown #hobie smut #hobie x black!reader #hobie x reader #hobie x y/n #x black fem reader #x black reader #x reader

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skulla-rxcks · 1 year ago

Text

Her admirer

! please proceed with caution this is really fucked.

Paring: Bang Chan x fem Reader

Rating: explicit & dead dove dne

Genre: smut. Yandere/stalker Chan

Warnings: kidnapping, f0rced preg, extremely dubious. PROCEED WITH CAUTION AND I MEAN IT.

Day 26 of k-tober

Taglist: @f3lix00 @channiesgoodgirl @mal-lunar-28

!THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!

I put my hands on the paper cup and take a sip of the warm tea I ordered. I’m sitting at a Café right now and just drawing away in my sketchbook; I’m drawing this guy that I’ve been seeing everywhere I go. At work, on my way home, with friends, basically everywhere. He’s surprisingly a pretty handsome man, still. Why’s he everywhere I go? He’s been on my mind most of the time recently and I’m really sick of him always being the first priority of my thoughts.

I decide to stand up and order a snack or something, my stomaches killing me right now. I leave my stuff at the table and go up to the counter; ordering a slice of this sweet looking chocolate cake that caught my eye earlier when I was picking up my tea. I thank the barista, paying before going back to where I was sitting earlier.

Is this really where I was? My stuffs gone! my phone and sketchbook as well as the tea I was drinking. What the fuck.. I look around, panicking as I attempt to find my belongings

“Looking for something?” A voice says, I turn around and see him. It’s him. The guy who I have been seeing basically everywhere I go. “You…I’ve seen you..” I try to confront him but my words are just getting mumbled up causing me to stutter, almost like if my body is reacting to the strange guy; reacting with a strange sense of fear. “Hm? What do you mean? I was just going to tell you your stuffs on the next table over.” He explains, pointing to the table. Was that really where I was sitting at? My mind begins to flood with questions, eager to find the answers to who this man is.

I pull a slight smile and grab my stuff, before going up and asking the worker to put the cake in a paper bag with me. I walk out of the café, stunned at whatever just happened. Maybe he’s just a nice guy after all. I walk to my car but there’s something wrong. I feel a presence watching me, almost like if I’m being followed.

Once I’m in my car I decide to take a breather before heading off, taking a sip of my tea and finishing it, making sure the cups empty before putting it in my door bin. For some reason I start to feel drowsy, my eyes getting slightly watery as I begin to feel sleepy. Maybe I just didn’t have enough sleep last night? No, that couldn’t be it. Because a few minutes after; everything turns black. I can’t hear or see anything.

——————

I Open my eyes, seeing that I’m not in a familiar place. I’m somewhere else, somewhere I’ve never fucking been in my life, I try to get up but realise I’m chained to the wall like a dog on a leash, what the fuck is going on? Is this a nightmare? The stench of blood fills the room. I’m too scared to say anything, I can’t even scream due to the lump forming in my throat due to worrying about what’s even happening.

“Oh that’s fantastic! You’re awake!” The man says. It’s the same guy who’s been following me, the same guy who I assume drugged my drink, I don’t think I can drink tea ever again after what happened.

“Why? Why are you doing this?” The words slip out from my throat; and finally. I have the courage to speak. “Because I love you, I’ve had my eye on you for ages now, you’re perfect.. absolutely perfect for me.” He chuckles, walking over to me and sitting down in front of me, lifting my chin up with two of his fingers.

“Please let me go.. I’ll do anything, I mean it!” I yell at him, my eyes beginning to water. “Just.. I’ll do whatever you want me to, hell, I’ll even be your girlfriend if that’s what you want, just please don’t hurt or kill me..” I whimper. I turn my head slightly, my eyes widening as I see a puddle of dried up blood; most of it’s turned brown already but there’s a few patches that look fresh.

“Strip.” He demands suddenly. “You’re not even going to tell me your fucking name first?!” I exclaim. “Chan. Now do what I say or I’ll fucking hurt you, you got that?” I nod at his words; petrified of what will happen to me if I don’t obey him. He’s treating me like I’m a Fucking dog! It’s insane, this man.. he’s crazy. Looking down I realise that I’m already just in my underwear meaning he must of taken my clothes off when he was bringing me here or when he chained me up. I do as he says, reaching my hands to my back and unclipping my bra, watching as my tits bounce slightly as they’re released from the padding of the cups.

“Panties off too.” He smirks, clearly getting something out of watching me strip for him. “There, done. Now will you let me go?” I sigh, I’m getting really fucking annoyed at his guy’s behaviour, he’s acting like a fucking child while being In his like.. mid twenties!

“No, you said you’ll do anything not to be killed did you?” Chan laughs. I nod In response to his question.. or statement you may call it instead due to him not giving two shits about what I answer.

“Good girl, then I’m going to fuck you until you get pregnant with my children. And there’s nothing you can do to stop it. What do you thinks worse, hm? Being bred by your not so secret admirer or dying, a slow and painful death as I fuck the stab wounds I’ll put into your pretty little body.”

My eyes widen at his words, my stomach turning as I begin to feel sick. What the fuck is wrong with him, this.. ‘Chan’ guy. “B-being bred..” I mumble, feeling puke begin to climb up into my throat, I manage to keep it down though.

“Good. And that’s what I’ll do.” Chan grins, unzipping his jeans before pulling his cock out and lining it up with my hole. “If you say shit like ‘it’s too much!’ Or ‘It hurts.. I cant handle it!’ I’ll kill you right here, so shut up and be a good little slut for me to fill, yeah?” He smirks as he forcefully pushes himself into my hole, I try not to whine at the size or how painful the stretch is even though I’m probably bleeding from how roughly he’s pounding into me. “Chan..” I cry out, feeling the warm stream of tears run down my face.

“Shut up you whore.” He demands, placing his hand over my mouth making it impossible for me to let out anything expect the most pathetic little moans and whines.

As time continues he begins thrusting harder and faster making the pain almost unbearable to cope with. I want to scream, I want to cum, but I just know if I do he’ll hurt me more than he is currently. “So fucking good, who knew that a girl with such a snappy mouth had such a.. wet and tight little cunt that I needed to demolish by my dick.. mmm..” he groans, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he reaches closer to his release.

“I’m about to cum inside of you baby, but when I do you’re going to stay here still tied up for a while until I’m certain I’ve gotten you pregnant with my children. And don’t you fucking dare get any ideas about getting rid of OUR child. You’re mine and you’re staying with me until you fucking die.” He grins. “Here it comes, take all of it like a good little toy.” Chan groans loudly, filling me up with his seed before pulling his dick out and stuffing my pussy with his fingers making sure my womb swallowed up.. every.. last drop.

#~skulla rxcks #stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #bang chan smut #bangchan smut

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desultory-novice · 8 months ago

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Noir's Field Trip - "Starting Out"

"...Thanks, you two."

Ahem! Following in the footsteps of several other Kirby OC contest peeps, you may send in asks for [Noir]!!

(...But I'm SUPER busy so it may take until May to respond! ^^;;)

[Notes/Rules About Asks:]

-I'm iffy on back-and-forth style dialogue-based RP, due to the complex interplay of pseudo-linearity in an amorphous situation plus my autistic-self often being unable to figure out what my RP partner is actually trying to say tone-wise or what they are thinking and then-I-answer-them-wrong-and-embarrass-myself...!!

NVMD SEND WHATEVER YOU WOULD LIKE XD

That and long post-chains make me a little nervous. ^^; Asks in the form of questions Noir can answer in-character are preferred.

(You may also ask me generic "What does your OC think/do when...?" style questions, such as those from THIS detailed OC ask meme!)

-You can also send an ask for Noir from your OC, if you'd like to find out how the troubled teenage boy would react to meeting them! (These may or may NOT(!!) come with art, depending on mood, time, and a variety of circumstances. Tourney OCs will generally get preference. If I AM inspired to draw said meeting, I may request additional information/clarification before going through with it.)

Again, I'm pretty autistic, so if you are going to go this route, it'll help if I have something more than "Hiya, Noir!" to work off of - else he'll just react to you the same way he does to Marx.

(Not that you can't go places from there! XD)

-You can also prod Noir about his traumas if you like! XD Note that asking for details about certain things (the "murders" on Shiver Star or his hatred of physical contact) may result in responses with TRIGGER WARNINGS, if I decide to answer them.

-Tournament!Noir is currently in his own similar but separate timeline from Mainline Apologies Noir. However, events during this contest MAY influence his fate and the fates of those he holds dearest!

-Noir's latent cross-dimension sight means that you can ask him about his various other timelines or Kirby games he was not alive for and probably get some pretty unique/funny/strange answers.

-I almost assuredly won't be able to get to every ask/comment. Some I may avoid answering due to complexity, uncomfortableness, them not fitting tournament!Noir's narrative, or me just not having any good ideas. Please don't take this personally.

-Lastly, please leave space between sending multiple asks. ^^

omg I'm so nervous about this. I want to draw lots, for me and for others (!) too if I can but I want to follow the flow of the tournament and not JUST go off on my own crazy thing, except that I'm not even completely familiar with what the rounds will be like?!

[Non-Ask Notes:]

-The flowers in the BG are the forget-me-nots that Adeleine drew for him on his birthday and that he received in this post. That post was also the inspiration for Tournament!Noir. (Although he retains the corruption + the collar here.)

PS: In addition the song that post is, you know, named for, Noir + the forget-me-nots also makes me think of the lyrics: "Since the day I met you, there's never ceased to be music in this hell of mine" from the opening to Sousei no Aquarion.

-This, and the tag name, was inspired by @Graycoin's comment "Noir gets to go on a field trip. I hope he has a good time : D " (then I saw Starflung had the same idea to send her OC off with a backpack! Haha! XD)

-The fish bone is a gift from Gooey. He's doing his best. Adeleine is also doing HER best. ("...A comb? Really?" "It's unbreakable!")

-As to the bento box, I'm not sure if I mentioned this before (?) but the Fontaine children are French-Japanese...on their mother's side.

-Why yes, that IS a cellphone in his backpack! I wonder who might call him...?

#Noir's Field Trip #Noir Fontaine #Kirby OC #Kirby OC tournament #I'm trying hard to include more refs + care in my art #Also testing out a style I might use for the DL3 arc~#(What's that? Apologies getting a DL3 arc after all?!)#long post

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la-niolue · 1 year ago

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“She,” Angua corrected. “This is Ankh-Morpork, you know. We’ve got extra pronouns here.”

She could smell his bewilderment. Of course, everyone knew that, somewhere down under all those layers of leather and chain mail, dwarfs came in enough different types to ensure the future production of more dwarfs, but it was not a subject that dwarfs discussed other than at those essential points in a courtship when embarrassment might otherwise arise.

“Well, I would have thought she’d have the decency to keep it to herself,” Carrot said finally. “I mean, I’ve nothing against females. I’m pretty certain my stepmother is one. But I don’t think it’s very clever, you know, to go around drawing attention to the fact.”

“Carrot, I think you’ve got something wrong with your head,” said Angua.

“What?”

“I think you may have got it stuck up your bum."

Feet Of Clay

Honestly I love that Carrot's the one who doesn't immediately accept Cheery. Carrot is undoubtedly a good guy, and we know he does accept her later, so this really illustrate how pervasive prejudice can be.

I mean, Carrot is the one who accepts everyone, he's good and nice and open-minded. But he is a dwarf, and was raised with their traditional values that a dwarf isn't female. And so he is unconsciously prejudiced.

Like he says : he got nothing against it, per se, he knows some female you know, it's just that it's not done, see, it's wrong.

And that's a very common attitude in real life, when people have prejudice that they don't even realise are prejudice, because they grew up with them and never thought to question them. So of course that's not racist or transphobic or whatever, it's just common sense/how the world works.

So it's very nice to see that attitude being called out, because Carrot isn't being overly rude or insulting, and he even respected Cherry's pronouns when answering... But it's not much better and he's still wrong.

And also we know from later books that he does learn better! He got called out on his bullshit and he listened! And he got over his prejudice!

And so can we. I think most everyone grew up learning some bullshit ideas. And we're not automatically bad people for integrating them, we can't know what we don't know and blinkers are hard to get rid of. But we need to at least try to think critically about what we learn and more importantly, we need to listen when someone tell us we're full of shit.

#discworld #gnu terry pratchett #stop prejudice #cheery littlebottom #carrot ironfoundersson #feet of clay

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rahhhhhhs-blog · 1 year ago

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How the Spiderman would react to you dodging their kisses

༻꫞ 𝑀𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑀𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑠 ꫞༺

Miles is a very shy or rather awkward person.

In public he's shy with his affection often seen as closed off.

He loves hugging and kissing you but in private. It gives him a sense of comfort and love.

You were sitting on his bed. He was chilling at his desk drawing, the music was quiet in the background as the window was open so a breeze could go by. All you could hear was the sounds of New York and the sounds of pencil scratching paper. After a while Miles sighed putting the pencil down and moving to lay next to you. He smiled and moved to give you a kiss but you moved last minute. "Y/n? what's wrong?" he looked at you confused. "Nothing, I just don't feel like kissing right now. Sorry" you spoke placing your phone down. "Oh that's fine. You don't have to say sorry" he did feel awkward at first and didn't know what to do, but he doesn't question it.

☆࿐ཽ༵༆༒ 𝑴𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒔-𝟒𝟐༒༆࿐ཽ༵☆

Now for this Miles, we've seen how he is. He seems more... aggressive? a 'cooler' version (depends who you ask)

I think he would be more confused and sassy about it. Let's face it, he's ruler of the sassy man apocalypse

He's the same as the other Miles tho, he keeps his affection more on the dl. Only because of enemies as the Prowler.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't want them, in fact if you don't give him at least one kiss. He's throwing a bitch fit.

Y'all were at the bodega getting snacks for a movie night. It was your turn to pick what to watch and you wanted to get his favorite snacks, so you won't hear him bitch and moan about the movie "Ma? you done?" Miles walked up next to you. "Hm? oh yeah, I'm done now." You looked at him and gestured to the snacks. He nodded and moved in to give you a kiss, you of course blocked it. Not because you just don't want to, but because people walked in and you know he doesn't like to be so affectionate in public. He looked at you weird and rolled his eyes walking to the cashier. After y'all (he) paid you both walked to his apartment. "So I was thinking we could rewatch Mean Girls." he just hummed. "Sure whatever." You looked at him and sighed "what's up with you?" he stopped walking and side eyed you. "You dodged my kiss like I'm one of your lil hoes" You just shook her head. "the only hoes I got are your other personalities, Miles. And I dodged it because other people walked in." Mid way through the sentence he kisses you before pulling away and walking ahead of you.

♡*♡∞:｡.｡ 𝐻𝑜𝑏𝑖𝑒 𝐵𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑛｡.｡:∞♡*♡

We all know Hobie. (for like 3 minutes but I'm not complaining.)

He doesn't believe in consistency. But one thing he DOES believe in? is you.

He LOVESS your kisses, he's practically a bitch in heat for them.

He doesn't want them he NEEDS them. So imagine his shock when you dodge him.

You were laying down on the couch reading. It was a quite and relaxing day, so you decided to relax from work. Suddenly your tall, lanky, and quiet loud chained up man is walking in. He had a meeting at the Headquarters so he was tired. All he could do while listening to Miguel was yawn and imagine being with you. (in more ways that one🤞) "Doll, there you are. Been going crazy all day." He took off his spiky jacket and laid on top of you. You put your book down and lightly scratched his back, he let out a sound of relief. "How was the meeting?" he grunted and moved forward. "Was shit like always." He moved to kiss you but you moved your hand to cover your mouth. "Fuck was that for?" He gave you a mug. "I ate onion dip, my breath stinks." You tried to reason. "Who cares? kiss me for fucks sake." He moved to closer and kissed you anyway.

▂▃▄▅▆▇█▓▒░ мιgυєℓ σ'нαяα░▒▓█▇▆▅▄▃▂

Miguel is a rather... aggressive guy. (don't say he isn't we all saw how he treated miles)

He'd probably be at work a lot and so are you, I mean the bills don't pay themselves. So naturally he would want a kiss before leaving

He doesn't know if he'd get the chance to see you again all day because of both of your work hours.

So let's say that you woke up late and you didn't have time to take it slow like you naturally do

"Fuckk!" You rushed around getting dressed and making coffee. Your husband Miguel watched idle. He tried to help but all he got was a 'Not now' he knew better than to do anything so he stayed still as to not get in your way. After you rushed to get ready you flattened your hair down as much as you could and grabbed your cup chugging it. Miguel watched you with love filled eyes...no literally his eyes were in the shape of hearts I'm not kidding. You moved to give him a kick pat on his shoulder and yelled "Good luck" to him. He frowned and grabbed your arm to give you a kiss but you pulled away hurriedly. "I'm sorry Miguel but I gotta go! I'll visit you during lunch!" And with that you were gone. He was sad you didn't kiss him but he just shrugged it off. You did keep your promise though, you visited him during lunch and made it up to him.

#miles morales #into the spider verse #hobie brown #hobie x reader #miles x reader #miguel x reader #Miguel x plus sized reader #hobie spiderverse

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xenomorphicdna · 1 year ago

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So what goes into managing an iterator?

Because when you think about it, managing a massive semiorganic sentient ai that you depend on for practically everything, might not be easy.

While iterators aren't brought online as children per se, from broadcasts in game we can assume that young iterators probably start out fairly stubborn with their thinking. And while iterators are far more complex and developed than our current good ol' chat algorithms, I think that trying to tell a machine designed to not make any errors, that it is wrong, may come with at least a bit of back and forth arguing.

There'd be a lot that would go into managing a machine as is, even more into one with feelings and opinions.

I believe the ashy green pearl mentions how there's a parental relationship between iterators and ancients (this might not apply to all ancients and iterators but for the sake of the argument I'm going to keep going with this). It also mentions how it's important to keep good relations with their iterator - they are reliant on them after all.

Booting an iterator up and instantly expecting them to perform perfectly how you need them too may not be entirely accurate. Perhaps more mechanical tasks are good from the get-go but more social tasks would certainly require behaviours that would have to be learned. There would have to be someone to teach them that emotional maturity and social skills.

So, going back to what does it take to manage an iterator. I think it's a lot of things, a large team effort of multiple people of different specialties.

Alright let's talk about the food chain here now ey?

Iterator administrators would rank at the top. The administrator title would probably be assigned to two or three house councillors. The role would come with being the voice for whatever iterator matters the public would need to know. They probably make decisions of, hey this important thing needs to be done by our iterator. But I doubt they have any real knowledge on the iterator ins and outs.

That would go to the people just below, the chief technicians, mechanics, programmers, architects, the folks that manage the more machine parts of an iterator. But of course iterators aren't all metal, they're semi organic too. So there would be those who specialise in the biological parts of iterators. And there would be psychologists as well to make sure our beloved machines with feelings are doing ok.

I'm not exactly sure where the common trope of ancients being horrible heartless assholes to iterators comes from. I certainly didn't get that impression from the texts. ?

I think the iterators were certainly respectable members of the community. I think many people cared about them too. The whole ashy green pearl talk about how they have parental obligations. They say how the discourse about five pebbles' construction displeases him. They literally say, hey stop being mean to our iterator, and go in to defend him. Even tho pebbles didn't exactly find the discourse upsetting, they still wouldn't tolerate insults at their iterator. You can't tell me that the ancients - even those at the top - didn't care.

Iterators were created as gifts to word. Five pebbles received drawings from kids. They had sky-sail festivals.

Moon did state her general dislike of her citizens, she calls them parasites with opinions. But I cannot imagine managing an entire city would be easy, and even despite that, she still calls them her parents. They were flawed, yes, but clearly there was enough love there for Moon to apologize.

#Sure not all ancients might have been polite #but i think it makes sense that you'd want to be nice to your supercomputer child that you kinda placed your life in the hands of #“i placed my faith into the hands of random gods” yeah ya did #they really meant something to the ancients #enought to become an echo #yeah its another one of my “i think everyone in rain world actually cares about eachother”#rain world #iterator #rw ancients #rw talk

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bestworstcase · 8 months ago

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You ain't wrong about fndm's lady/dude crit imbalance. I've noticed so much whataboutism & overlapping insistence that Oz/Qrow/Tai did their absolute best given [magic special forces duties], [hell world full of hell beasts] and/or [Salem/Raven's Selfish Dippage/Supermom's Loss], often with a side of 'you're just being blinkered stans who can't accept when ur waifu mains have flaws that need a-fixin' or should Get Over Themselves & Stick With The Program'. I mean, no denying the STRQ guys would be leagues less dysfunctional were it not for their situation's unique pressures and the immortals' contributions thereof (ditto for Ozlem thanks to the Bros), but I still don't think that causality chain fully corroborates this 'naught but vindicated put-upon sensei figures, the Bad Moms Doing Badness exonerate everything, it's Just How This World Works, we've been over this, STFU already' perspective nursed by long-haul fanposters and tons of general watchers.

truly. although i will say i Don’t think it’s fair to judge qrow as a parent because he wasn’t one, in either the biological sense (uncle) or legal (did not have custody) or familial (not a member of the household). so while certainly there are things he could have done better (gotten sober) (quit taking missions from oz for the sake of being around more to help out) (confronted tai about the wagon incident—tho we don’t know he didn’t do that tbf) short of either moving in to take over parenting or like flat out getting whatever passes for child services involved to force tai to get help or foster the girls himself for a while qrow didn’t really have a lot of material power in this situation. & both options he did have posed real risks (misfortune + the compounding trauma of a messy custody fight while everyone was still grieving summer). so

but yeah what gets me is "they really did try their best" and "their best was in fact inadequate and caused lasting harm" are not incompatible statements. Sometimes Your Best Sucks. that’s life. & sometimes when you’re deep in the throes of a traumatic situation or a depressive episode or alcoholism or what the fuck ever You Will Hurt People because you Don’t have the capacity to support others or practice empathy; you can’t draw from an empty well. that’s life!

it’s just also where the "intentions don’t negate consequences" principle applies; qrow trying to Be There for his nieces whilst struggling with alcoholism doesn’t make the harm done by his alcoholic behavior not have happened, tai’s depression doesn’t make neglect not neglectful, salem… existing at all doesn’t justify the choice to rely almost solely on child soldiers to defend his relics. etc

this is also the most compelling thing to me abt tai (potentially) staying near vale because of summer, at the expense of his kids; as soon as you bring "summer is alive and well and chose to leave him" into this equation you bring the implicit blame to the surface: is this woman responsible for his actions because she chose to end their relationship?

consider that the one thing we know with 100% certainty about these two is that summer did not trust him with her real self; her reaction to hearing him down the stairs is.

this, followed by slipping on a mask and lying through her teeth with practiced ease. (in comparison, when ruby is feeling acutely distressed she shuts down and gets quiet, which has the effect of making her distress visible but also small and easy to ignore or easily shunted aside by louder more apparently urgent problems. ruby tries to put on a happy face most of the time, but when she’s Feeling Bad the best she can do is small, strained smiles. summer turns around with a relaxed grin and makes a casual joke at ozpin’s expense.)

so—yang remembers "supermom" and ruby thinks her dad "misses adventuring with [summer]" and for eight volumes there isn’t anything to contradict this impression the girls have that their parents were deeply in love and happy with each other… and then our introduction to the Real Summer Rose is:

reading bedtime stories to her girls

the lies come out of her so easily!

she planned her rogue mission in secret with raven, who also left tai for hitherto unknown reasons that are now strongly implied to be that she felt like a failure as a wife and mother.

leaving aside the question of why summer chose to join salem (and why she faked her own death to do it)… this does not imply a happy or functional relationship. if nothing else whatever problem summer had that drove her to plan this suicide mission with raven was something that she, for whatever reason, did not feel like she could bring to her spouse/partner—and that in itself speaks to a fundamental absence of trust, but taken in conjunction with a) this Extremely well-practiced emotional disappearing act and b) how tai handles emotional vulnerability in v4 (NOT WELL!) it’s kinda…

well. the blacksmith shows this to ruby then remarks "maybe you’re not the only one who has felt the weight of others’ expectations. like alyx, like your mother," and the only character summer performs for in this flashback is. tai.

and—while the silver eyed warrior paragon-hero fairytale cult nonsense was undoubtedly the greater burden—i think the narrative is inviting the question here of to what extent perfect mother/perfect wife was one of those expectations, to what extent Raven Leaving was a shadow cast over summer’s relationship with taiyang, and how she might feel about all this with fourteen years of hindsight.

wrapping back around to the point about tai and culpability, you have on the one hand this implicit blame put on summer for tai having neglected the children after she left him and on the other this nascent question rising to the surface of: was summer even happy in this relationship, if she felt like she had to perform happiness often enough for it to be this easy? there’s the asterisk of course that what we see in this flashback was outside of the ordinary but the ease and confidence with which she slips on that mask bespeaks habit.

so tai fourteen years later is still pining for this partnership in which summer may or may not have felt an expectation to Be Happy (perfect huntress, perfect mother, perfect wife) and in which she certainly did not feel like she could bring her Desperate Suicide Mission Problems to her partner… and his parental neglect is all rooted directly in the intensity of his anguish after she left him… and she’s spent those fourteen years with salem and if they’ve not already crossed paths offscreen they’re certain to do so now that tai is like alone on patch with salem / summer / cinder for neighbors.

there’s an interesting reckoning being set up here, i think, with the unspoken implication that summer was the load-bearing pillar in this family and by removing herself from it she Made tai into a neglectful father—that’s the family narrative, dad shut down after mom left (died), but the narrative arc is beginning to culminate with "okay, why did mom leave?" and it seems to me that the natural trajectory from there is to really interrogate that question of blame.

#i am rly curious to see how summer feels abt tai these days #because it doesn’t… feel like… there’s a trajectory here toward (romantic) reconciliation. and that’s rly interesting #the fandom will of course be ridiculous about it but what else is new.

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swan-of-sunrise · 1 year ago

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Three's Company (A Spellbinding-Verse Interlude)

Summary: A week before Christmas, (Y/N) and Loki help Peter maintain his secret identity and find themselves faced with a surprising addition to their happy duo.

Pairing: Loki X F!Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Hi there! Today we've got a little holiday fluff for our favorite newlywed couple, and I'm not even joking when I say that this is pure tooth-rotting fluff lol thank you all so much for reading, I hope that you enjoy! (And happy holidays!!)

Three’s Company December 17th, 2016 Avengers Tower, New York City (Spellbinding Masterlist)

After drilling the last screw into the wall, (Y/N) set the heavy power tool down on an empty shelf and leaned back to admire her handiwork with a proud smile on her face. “There! Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The door opened and she glanced over her shoulder to see Loki saunter into their new shared suite, an impressed grin spreading across her husband’s handsome face when he spotted her fully assembled bookshelf. “Darling, while it’s commendable that you pieced together this infernal Ikea bookshelf all by yourself, why in all the Nine Realms didn’t you just use your Alf Seidr?”

“Because I wanted the satisfaction of having conquered this stupid piece of furniture with my own bare hands,” (Y/N) confidently answered back, drawing a chuckle from Loki as he moved to stand beside her ladder. “And besides, I lived almost all my life without resorting to magic to solve all of my problems; I hardly think it’d be right to start now, even if it meant spending an entire day assembling this damn bookshelf and missing out on-” At that exact moment, the shelf bearing her clunky electric drill collapsed and set off a chain reaction that saw each shelf fall one by one, the last of them slamming against the ladder’s leg and sending her toppling backwards into her husband’s waiting arms. “…Lunch.”

Taking note of the purple-hued glow beginning to emanate from the palms of (Y/N)’s hands, Loki hummed in sympathy and pressed a comforting kiss onto her furrowed brow. “You’ve lost this battle, darling, but you certainly won’t lose the war. How about I draw you a bubble bath and prepare dinner while you relax for a spell, and then the both of us can conquer the bookshelf after we eat?”

(Y/N) heaved an exasperated sigh but gave him a relenting nod, willing her magic away and giving her husband a thankful kiss before pulling back and flashing him a flirtatious smile. “Or…you could always order some take-out and join me in the bath? My arms are pretty sore, after all, and I might need a little help washing my back.”

“Are you trying to tempt me, darling?” Loki arched an inquiring brow as a mischievous smirk played on his lips, his emerald-green eyes alight with a burning desire that sent shivers of anticipation through her body. “Because if so, you should know that it’s working remarkably well.”

Giggling, (Y/N) looped her arms around his neck and leaned in for a kiss, but a frantic knocking on their suite’s door caused them both to jump as the romantic atmosphere was shattered by the reality of their superhero lives. They exchanged matching looks of regret and once Loki carefully set her onto her feet, they both crossed the room to see who was on the other side of their door; when (Y/N) opened the door, her brows furrowed in concern when the panicked and pale face of Peter Parker was revealed. “Peter? Is something wrong?”

“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” Loki observed, throwing (Y/N) a worried glance as he opened the door wider and ushered the teenager into their suite. “You haven’t attempted to prank Romanoff, have you? Because I already warned you once that your young age won’t stop her from seeking swift revenge for whatever scheme you might dare to concoct.”

Peter shook his head as he began to quickly pace across their living room, and it was then that they both spotted the large cardboard box clutched tight in his arms. “No, no, of course not; if the God of Mischief himself warns me not to prank someone, then I’m definitely gonna pay attention.” The teenager carefully set the box down onto their couch and started to unfurl its lid. “I’ve got a pretty big problem that I could really, really use your guys’ help with.”

“Well, I’m sure that we can help you with…” (Y/N)’s reassuring words trailed off when a muffled bark emanated from the box and a moment later, the small black head of an excited dog popped up and gave Peter’s hand a slobbering lick. “A puppy?”

“While I was out on patrol earlier in Queens, I stopped a couple of jerks from jacking my neighbor’s car and beating him up and to thank me, he gave me one of his flat-coated retriever’s new puppies; I can’t keep him, ‘cause Mr. Rodriguez gave him to Spider-Man and if he sees me with this little guy in the apartment building, then he’ll start to suspect who I am and then he’ll tell Aunt May and then?” Peter sighed as he plopped down onto the couch beside the box and scratched the onyx-colored puppy behind his floppy ear. “Then I’ll be toast with a capital ‘T.’”

Taking a seat on the other side of the box, Loki confidently extended his hand out for the puppy to sniff and chuckled to himself when he began to lightly gnaw on his long fingers. “So, what would you like us to do?”

“Well, I texted MJ and she said she’d help me find a good home for him but she’s gonna be out of town for a week to visit her grandparents, so…could he maybe stay here until she gets back? Please?”

(Y/N) bit her lower lip in contemplation, torn between her desire to help the desperate teenager avoid accidentally revealing his secret identity to his aunt and entire apartment building and her uneasiness around dogs of all shapes and sizes; because of her aunt’s meager salary as a music tutor and their strict building manager, she never had a dog while growing up and very rarely had the opportunity to interact with one, leading to a reluctant but life-long wariness of them as a whole. But as she watched her beaming husband lift the puppy out of the box and cradle him in his arms while the puppy’s tail excitedly wagged in response to Peter’s ear scratches, her pursed lips softened into a small smile. “Well, since it’s only for a week…I suppose we can look after him for you.”

“Thank you, Miss (Y/L/N)!” Peter jumped to his feet and flung his arms around her in an overly-enthusiastic bear-hug. “I’ve gotta head home and finish up my Trig homework before Aunt May comes back from grocery shopping, so I’ll see you guys next Saturday!”

After giving a bemused Loki a fist-bump and patting the top of the puppy’s head one last time, Peter dashed out of their suite and used his web shooters to close the door behind him. Her husband shook his head in amusement before looking over at her with a pleased smile spreading across his face. “That was very generous of you, darling; I know that you’re not exactly comfortable around canines.”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Peter needed help, and I still owe him one. Nothing could ever repay him for saving my life, but working to keep his secret identity a secret for a little while longer seems like a good place to start.” A dark shadow crossed Loki’s handsome features as the abrupt reminder of her near-death experience in the wake of the Battle of Boston hung heavy in the air, and she leaned down to press a soothing kiss onto his cheek before moving to sit on the arm of the couch right beside him. “And besides, I was thinking that this might be a good opportunity to rectify my inexperience with dogs.”

“And you just couldn’t turn down this adorable little face,” Loki lifted the puppy so that their faces were side-by-side and playfully pouted, making (Y/N) roll her eyes at his playful teasing. “Could you, my love?”

A reluctant smile began to play on her lips and while her husband grinned in triumph, the puppy let out a joyful bark and licked the entire side of his face, causing his nose to scrunch up in displeasure as she giggled in amusement. “It looks like the God of Mischief has finally met his match!” Throwing caution to the wind, she stretched a hand out and ran her fingers through the thatch of onyx-hued fur around the puppy’s neck, her shoulders relaxing and her smile softening when she saw his tail vigorously wagging in response. “I think we’re all going to get along just fine this week.”

Loki, setting the puppy down onto the ground and wiping the dog slobber off of his cheek with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, chuckled to himself as he gently pulled her onto his lap and wound his arms around her waist. “It’ll certainly be an adventure; if this little one is anything like the hounds that Thor and I grew up around, then you and I won’t be getting much rest for the foreseeable future.”

“But he’s just a little puppy, sweetheart! How much trouble could he possibly cause?”

The sudden clatter of the ladder toppling over onto the ground caused them both to jump in surprise, and (Y/N)’s head whipped around just in time to see the rambunctious puppy speed by and clamp his small jaw onto the hem of their living room curtains. Loki’s emerald-green eyes sparkled with mirth as he glanced over at her, and his voice shook with barely-concealed amusement as he replied, “Oh, I’m sure he’ll come up with an idea or two.”

It was when (Y/N) and Loki were attempting to coax the puppy into letting go of the torn curtains and the puppy decided that it was the perfect time to relieve himself that (Y/N) started to realize that it would be a long, long week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m pretty sure I told you that the training bot was just for running your sword drills, Melisandre, not your Alf Seidr,” Tony joked as he yanked the dismembered torso of an Iron Legion droid out of the training room’s wall. “He’s only been rated to handle medieval-style combat; I haven’t figured out how to make him immune to Light Elf magic.”

(Y/N) tossed one of the droid’s legs into the pile of limbs and winced at the harsh sound it made. “Sorry, Tony.”

“What made you go all Cosmic Sorceress on the poor guy, anyhow?” Natasha asked, setting the fire extinguisher down and crossing her arms over her chest as her expression morphed into a look of concern. “Usually you have a pretty good handle on your emotions and your magic during your workouts and drills. Do I have to grab my Widow Bites and go have a little chat with that husband of yours?”

“Don’t worry, it’s not about Loki.” Giving the spy an exasperated smile, (Y/N) flicked her wrist and used her swirling purple-hued magic to repair the damaged wall before them. “It’s about that puppy we’re taking care of as a favor to Peter.”

The billionaire shrugged as he began re-assembling the dismembered droid. “Puppies are hard work; at least he’ll be out of your hair by this time tomorrow and you two’ll have a canine-free Christmas.”

“That’s sort of the problem…” Both Tony and Natasha frowned in confusion and (Y/N) continued. “He’s grown pretty attached to the little guy; he takes him for walks, plays with him for hours, and even cooks him fresh food for every meal. And look, this is what I woke up to this morning,” (Y/N) trailed off as she strode over to the nearest bench to retrieve her cell phone, opening her photo gallery and showing her friends the image on the screen; it showed a sleeping Loki sprawled out beneath their thick bedding, one arm tucked beneath her pillow while the fingers of his free hand were weaved around the onyx-colored fur of the snoring puppy that was curled up close beside him. “They’re adorable together, aren’t they?”

Natasha smiled at the photo. “I never knew that Loki was a dog-guy; I always figured that he’d get along better with cats.”

“Temperamental and aloof? Yeah, that’s our Reindeer Games,” Tony chuckled, tightening the bolts connecting the droid’s head to its neck and throwing (Y/N) an inquisitive look. “Sounds like the solution to your little problem is to adopt the pooch; the doggie gets a loving home with you two and Loki’s heart won’t be broken, so it’s a win-win.”

“Unless…” The spy tilted her head as she absentmindedly fiddled with the end of her long braid. “Do you not like the puppy?”

(Y/N) emphatically shook her head. “I absolutely love the puppy! It’s just that…well, Loki and I are Avengers with close ties to different realms; we never know when we’ll be assigned a mission or how long we’ll be gone from the tower, and we’re always traveling to and from Asgard and Alfheim. Wouldn’t all that combined make for an unstable and pretty lonely life for a dog?”

“If you and Loki were normal people with normal careers, yeah, but like you said, you’re both Avengers. You two’ve got a tower full of friends who’d love nothing more than to dog-sit for you, or do really anything for you, to be honest.” Natasha reached out and slung an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders as she gave her a reassuring smile. “I promise you right here and now that that dog’ll never be lonely while we’re around.”

“And besides, you two’re pretty set on having kids someday, right?” A grinning Tony shrugged his shoulders in a playful manner. “Seems to me like getting a dog is the best crash-course in parenting to have before a little bundle of joy comes along.”

(Y/N)’s heart warmed in her chest at the helpful words of her friends, her earlier fears and reservations beginning to dissipate as she finally allowed herself to imagine their happy duo expanding into a more chaotic but even happier trio. “Well, in that case…it looks like Loki’s getting an extra Christmas present this year.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On Christmas Eve, after they’d come home from the charity Avengers ice skating party at Rockefeller Center with the knowledge that they raised hundreds of thousands of dollars for a handful of children’s charities, (Y/N) and Loki bundled up in their coziest sweatpants, stockings and ugly Christmas sweaters and lounged on their suite’s couch together, where they basked in the bright glow of their illuminated tree and sipped their hot chocolate as they debated which Christmas movie to watch.

“It appears as though we’ve reached an impasse, darling,” Loki sighed dramatically, his long fingers fiddling with the fuzzy end of his Santa hat as he fought to keep the mischievous smile off his face; parting with the puppy they’d been briefly fostering earlier that day had been a subtle but significant blow to him, so it was nice to see that their evening of ice skating had helped to cheer him up. “It’s between a surprisingly faithful adaptation of Charles Dickens’ timeless tale of the true meaning of Christmas that stars the delightful Muppets, and a film that depicts the many misdemeanors and felonies that an eight-year-old commits after his rather neglectful family leaves him home alone for Christmas.”

“Mm-hmm. Decisions, decisions…” (Y/N) playfully pondered as she tilted her head to the side in faux contemplation, the colorful jingle bells decorating her reindeer antler headband sounding and making her husband’s eyes twinkle in silent amusement. “How about this: we can watch The Muppet Christmas Carol tonight, if…”

Loki arched a curious brow. “If?”

“If…you let me give you one of your Christmas gifts first.” She watched while he considered her offer, silent anticipation bubbling up within her as she continued. “There’s no catch, sweetheart; this is just the sort of gift I’d rather give you in private than in front of the others tomorrow morning.” His emerald-green eyes darkened with an all-too familiar desire and she shot him an exasperated look. “It’s not that sort of gift, Loki Odinson. So, how about it?”

“Well, I do enjoy receiving gifts and since you’re such an excellent gift-giver,” He grinned and shook her outstretched hand. “Then I graciously accept.”

With an excited smile on her face, (Y/N) extricated herself from her husband’s arms and hurried over to retrieve a small wrapped package from beneath their Christmas tree, plopping back down onto the couch and eagerly watching while a bemused Loki worked on opening it; when he removed the lid, he cocked his head and looked up at her with polite curiosity. “It’s…a tiny green sweater?”

“Oh, did I forget to tell you? This gift’s a two-parter!” Raising her hand, (Y/N) summoned her Alf Seidr and flicked her wrist, sending a ball of purple-hued magic across the room and using it to create a crackling portal, beaming as a familiar onyx-colored puppy dashed through and leaped onto a surprised Loki’s lap with a joyful bark. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

“But I thought…? Didn’t Parker come by this morning to take him away?”

Pleased that she’d managed to successfully out-trick the God of Mischief himself, (Y/N) smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “I may or may not have called him yesterday to tell him that we were considering adopting him; after he left, he dropped him off at the lab so that Bruce and J.A.R.V.I.S. could keep an eye on him until tonight.”

Loki’s eyes went wide and filled with an earnest emotion as his long fingers scratched behind the happy puppy’s ears. “My love, I…I-I don’t know what to say. Are you certain about this?”

“Absolutely,” She replied and leaned over to press a sweet kiss onto his smiling lips. “…But I do have one little request, if you don’t mind.”

“Anything, darling.”

“Can we name him Mischief?”

Before Loki could answer, the sound of shredding paper caused them both to look down and they laughed at the sight of the puppy vigorously tearing into the wrinkled wrapping paper. “It would seem as though he’s already decided that for me, doesn’t it?” (Y/N) giggled when Mischief barked and licked the side of her face, and Loki grinned before kissing her forehead and ruffling the onyx fur of Mischief’s fluffy neck. “Welcome to our little family, Mischief.”

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A/N: See? I wasn't lying about the tooth-rotting fluff lol thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk?si=5fcb3ef04de544e7

“Spellbinding” Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie99 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @a-laufeyson @outoftheregular @itscomplicatedx @0-artemis @vivloki @crowleysqueenofhell @groovy-lady @mostclevermiss

#spellbinding #loki x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki x f!reader #loki odinson x f!reader #loki odinson #peter parker #spiderman #natasha romanoff #black widow #tony stark #iron man #bruce banner #hulk #marvel cinematic universe

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