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gloomwitchwrites · 4 months

Note

You get drunk and don't remember giving them a hickey. So you get mad at them.

Oh, anon! I love love love this prompt. Even though the prompt itself is fairly straightforward, there is some wiggle room about how this could play out. I stuck to the prompt but did my best to keep them on the shorter side.

Some of these get spicy but don't fall into graphic detail.

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, arguing, sexual tension, kissing, alcohol

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“These reports are shit, Price. What am I supposed to do with them?”

You’re trying your best not to sound irritated, but your head is pounding. You agreed to go out for drinks but told yourself you wouldn’t have more than one or two. That went completely out the door when multiple people began paying for rounds. After the fourth, the night started to come blurry. Not all the pieces are there.

Of what you can recall from last night, you remember that you sat in a man’s lap. Well—sat isn’t the correct word. More like straddled. You remember strong arms, an accent, and an excitement in what you were doing. But the face is still foggy.

“What you always do,” replies Price. There’s a tease in his tone you don’t particularly like. It’s too friendly, and it stirs something fierce inside your belly.

Price shifts in his chair behind his desk, the collar of his jacket flops open slightly. You catch a hint of something dark on the side of Price’s neck. You frown, your rebuttal gone.

“What is that?” You nod toward his throat.

Price leans back. “What?” he asks. “This?” He reaches up, pulling back on the collar.

It’s a…oh fuck.

“You were happy to give it to me.” Price shrugs.

Fuck.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, tossing the manila file folder on Price’s desk.

The man you straddled last night was Price? The man who is always fucking up reports and ignoring all your suggestions for corrections? That one?

“You looked good doing it, too,” he continues, that teasing smile falling into a comfortability of a lover.

No. No no no.

You place your hands on your hips. “And you let me do that?”

Price shrugs. “We’re consenting adults.”

“I was drunk.”

Price crosses his arms over his chest. “We were both drunk. And you’re the one who pounced on me.”

Embarrassment rises hot and wild in your cheeks. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“You did,” he confirms, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly as he smirks. “Ambushed me actually.”

“Then why didn’t you stop me?” Your voice cracks, going a bit high.

“I tried.”

That’s almost worse. You jumped him and then sucked on his neck until it left a mark. What an absolute fucking mess.

You roll your eyes. “You tried? A big strong man like you couldn’t stop me?”

This time Price is the one rolling his eyes. He makes an irritated groan. Price pushes up from his chair, one hand waving out in front of him as he speaks. “You said you’d been thinking about me.”

It’s not entirely untrue. While you attend the clerical side of things, you do make excuses to come see Price. He’s older. Handsome. Assertive. His reports aren’t always shit but it’s the only reason you have to bother him.

“I didn’t mean it,” you reply but even you don’t believe it.

Price comes around the desk and steps into your space. “Really?”

You square your shoulders, staring into Price’s face. “Really.”

He shakes his head, clearly not believing you at all. “As I recall, you were in my lap. Practically begging.”

“And you allowed that? In front of everyone?” Even Price couldn’t be that careless.

This time, Price smiles like he knows something you don’t. “You don’t remember.”

“What?” you ask, flustered.

Price starts laughing, but it’s not mocking, more like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“John,” you snap.

Price sinks down into his chair, legs spread wide. “I think I liked it better when you said my name while seated in my lap.”

Your fingers dig into the top of Price’s desk. Pieces begin to return. Fragments of you squirming in his lap. Lips pressed against his.

“How did you say it?” he ponders, almost aloud rather than to you. Then, he smiles, not even answering his own question.

Price rests his palm on his thigh and your gaze drops to its subtle movement before returning to his face.

“Think I’d like a matching one,” he says. He runs his hand down his thigh and then back up. “Or I could give you one just like it.”

“John,” you murmur, not knowing what it is you want to say.

“Doesn’t have to be on your neck,” and his voice is nearly a growl. Price lightly squeezes his thigh and you know exactly where he’s referring to. “Be easier if you sit on the desk.”

You snatch up the folder on Price’s desk, clutching it like a shield against your chest. Price doesn’t even blink. Doesn’t appear fazed at all. Stomping over you shove it against his chest, intending to walk right out the door.

But Price is quick.

With one hand he’s clutching the file and with the other he grabs your wrist before you manage to move away.

“Remove your hand,” you say but there is no venom in it.

Price’s gaze lingers on your lips before shifting up to meet your eyes. “Come back when you know what you want.”

Price releases you, and you nearly stumble forward into his lap. Catching yourself on the edge of his desk, you spin on your heel, exiting Price’s office as the final fragments of memory fall into place.

You don’t want to admit it.

Not out loud. Not yet.

But you will be back.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It’s unbelievable. Unfathomable.

You’re not angry with Kyle. You’re upset with yourself. You’re upset that you were so careless about how many drinks you had, and how you couldn’t control yourself in the moment. Kyle is not a liar, and he doesn’t take advantage, so whatever you did, is on you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, swallowing down some of the rising irritation. “It’s my fault.”

Kyle shrugs, a sheepish smile on his face. “Not like I pushed you away.”

“That doesn’t matter,” you insist, flinging your arms out in exasperation, nearly knocking over bottles of cleaner.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, catching one of them before it hits the floor.

This little storage room isn’t big enough for this. You need space. You need to run far away from here and pretend like last night didn’t happen. Not that you can remember all of it. You don’t recall giving Kyle that mark on his neck.

“It does matter. We both had too much but I still had more of my head than you did.” Kyle places the bottle of cleaner back on the shelf. “I should’ve done better.”

“We’re coworkers, Kyle. And I had no right. We aren’t together.”

Kyle smirks and you want to smack it right off his face. “We could be,” he murmurs, taking a step forward.

“Absolutely not,” you retort but you don’t retreat.

Kyle’s smirk faulters a bit but he doesn’t shrink away. If anything, he looks more determined, like the rejection is a farce.

“You remember anything you said to me last night?”

You lick your lips and cross your arms defensively over your chest. “Even if I did, does it change anything?”

Kyle sighs and runs his hand over the top of his head. “It does for me.”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you consider your options. Kyle is a sweet man, at least to you. Everyone always comments on it to you when he isn’t around, and you’ve always dismissed their observations.

Maybe he does care, and you doing this tipped him over the edge into a place neither of you might be able to come back from.

“I need some fucking air,” you mutter, wanting to escape this situation, even for a bit.

Kyle shoves forward, blocking the door. Your lips move, forming the shapes of words, but Kyle shakes his head, all seriousness.

“We need to talk about this.”

“We don’t need to talk about anything,” you snap.

Kyle’s eyebrows rise toward his hairline and his head tips slightly to the side, revealing more of the mark. “Everyone knows what happened.”

“What?” you breathe.

“We weren’t alone when you straddled me.” You’re too stunned to speak. All the words you want to say are gone. Lost to the void that is your mind.

Kyle sighs and leans against the door. “Soap got a great view.”

“Stop talking. Just—stop.” Your throw up your hands and Kyle does as you ask. “You are going to move out of my way. I am going to leave. And we won’t talk about this again.”

Kyle only stares, the silence stretching.

When you think he won’t give in, Kyle shifts to his left, leaving the door completely clear. Without taking a second to reconsider, you push open the the door, nearly running over Soap in the process.

He stumbles backward, cheeks bright red. Ghost is next to him, arms crossed, staring at the wall like he isn’t there at all.

Soap’s brief fluster turns into a wide, knowing grin. “Gaz give you a matching one?” he teases.

Ghost makes a noise that sounds like a snort.

“Both of you can fuck off.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Ghost.”

“What?” he grunts, side-eyeing you before returning his attention back to the tablet in his hand. He absently rubs at his neck for the third time in the last few minutes.

You frown. “Are you injured?”

“Why would you think that?” he asks, tapping at something on the screen.

“You keep rubbing your neck.”

Ghost pauses, his finger hovering just above the screen as he turns slightly in your direction.

You’re not trying to be pushy or nosy. Ghosts hates that. But there’s something wrong, and you care enough to ask him about it.

“You know what’s on my neck,” he replies cooly.

“No. I don’t.” A swirling fracture of unease blooms in your belly. It curls outward to claw up your throat. “What are you talking about?”

Ghost’s hand holding the tablet drops to his side. With one gloved hand, he reaches up, tugging the neckline of his jacket down enough to reveal a portion of his throat. The mask he always wears is in the way, but you reach out with a tentative hand, brushing the fabric upward to reveal a mouth-shaped bruise.

You drop your hand and take a step back. “Why would I know anything about that?”

“You gave it to me,” he says, matter of fact.

Sure, you had a few drinks last night, but did you really have that many? Enough that you can’t recall giving Ghost a goddamn hickey.

“You’re mistaken.”

“Never wrong, love.” Ghost locks the tablet and places it on the table next to him. “Especially about a woman sitting in my lap.”

“Don’t,” you say sharply. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s not.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, hips adjusting slightly as he pivots to glare down at you. “Try again.”

A deep rush of embarrassment floods your system, curling up your neck to heat your cheeks. “I wouldn’t.”

“You did,” insists Ghost. You glance down at the floor, unable to meet his gaze. Perhaps you had one too many. Sometimes you can hold your alcohol but clearly not. At least not last night.

You clear your throat. “I’m sorry.” An apology is best. You have no idea how Ghost feels about you, but you are irritated that he didn’t try to stop the whole thing in the first place.

Ghost is silent a long moment. “I’m not.” Your head snaps up, but Ghost isn’t done. “I liked it. And you enjoyed giving it to me.”

You need the pieces to fall back into place. You need to remember. Because right now, you’re just confused, and Ghost’s behavior is entirely different from his usual demeanor.

“You don’t know that.”

Ghost shrugs. “I do.”

His certainty is confusing. Ghost is not a liar. He is always truthful, always to the point, even if his bluntness comes across as rude. And that’s what so frustrating about it all because you know that Ghost is right. You probably did like it, probably begged and writhed in his lap. Ghost wouldn’t lie about something like that, but he would tease you. Might even hold it over your head.

“This conversation is over.” You step around him to grab the tablet, but Ghost is quick like a viper, his large hand encasing your wrist.

“Do you remember?”

No. I don’t.

“It doesn’t matter.” You try to tug your wrist out of his grasp, but Ghost holds firm.

“When you’re ready. Find me.” He leans forward, masked face nearly touching the side of your cheek. “We’ll recreate it.”

Then his hand is gone, and Ghost is pulling away, presenting the tablet to you like he didn’t say anything at all.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“What the fuck is that?”

Soap’s brilliant smile turns in your direction. He sits on the seat of a bench press, elbows resting on knees, sweat dripping from his brow. Soap is shirtless and a white towel is draped over the back of his neck.

Reaching up with the edge of the towel, Soap wipes away some of the sweat on his face. “What are you on about?” He adjusts his stance, his large palm pressing into his knee as he leans on an elbow.

The small gym isn’t crowded but there are people here. Some of them turn and glance in your direction but otherwise keep to their business. Ghost and Gaz are over by the boxing ring observing a few new recruits who slug it out for bragging rights.

Is Soap so aloof? Does he not see the massive mark on the side of his neck? And who gave it to him? A group of you went out for drinks but you don’t recall who might have given it to him or when.

You step closer, lowering your voice. “Your neck, Johnny.”

That gorgeous smile of his widens and he chuckles. “Did you forget?”

Did you forget? Forget what? Are you part of this?

You swallow, the salvia nearly sticking in your throat as you try to calm your thudding heart. “What do you mean?”

Soap leans back a bit, observing you. “You gave this to me.” His voice is too loud, and you glance over your shoulder to make sure no one’s heard. Everyone appears to be preoccupied with the recruits in the ring.

“I didn’t,” you insist, turning back to him. “I’d remember.”

Soap guffaws and removes the towel from around his neck. “Took a seat right here.” He indicates the spot by tapping his left thigh.

“Did we…” you begin, and then trail off.

“Did we what?” he prompts, clearly enjoying this.

You bend forward, lowering your voice until it’s a hiss. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Soap smirks, and then rises to his full height. “Promise I was a perfect gentleman.” He matches your movement, leaning in so that your faces are close. “But you? You were no lady.”

You inhale sharply, and Soap pushes right past you, heading for the showers.

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@hantheconqueror

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tonycries · 8 months

Text

Exes who…

Synopsis. Showing up to a party looking like that. What's a man to do when he just can't stay away?

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, desperate boys, unprotected sex, NSFW, cunnilingus, pet names (my girl, babe), swearing.

Word count. 1.0k

A/N. This was supposed to be shorter, sorry lovelies. Art by @_3aem on Twitter.

Exes who know they should stay away, but one whiff of your perfume at some dingy party and he’s dragging you to the nearest bathroom.

He’s pathetic, he knows, but right now he couldn’t give less of a fuck as he spreads you on that bathroom counter and dives face-first into your dripping cunt.

Greedily lapping at your juices, the taste of your pussy on his tongue was so addictive. Fuck, he missed this so much.

He feels feral. Groaning lowly at the tug of your hand on his hair which hurts so good. He flicks his tongue harshly over your throbbing clit. More. He needs more.

“Hah- Fuck- Feels so good!”

“Yeah, jus’ like that, my girl.”

Making out with your pussy was almost as addictive as fucking you. You were a drug he couldn’t let up - he couldn’t get enough of.

Nose-deep in your cunt, he tastes you over and over the way he imagined when he fucked his fist on those lonely nights.

Fingers digging into your thighs, he moves your legs so that they wrap around his head, bringing him impossibly closer to your hot core. He breathes over it - teasing - mouth watering at the sight of it getting wetter just for him.

He’s pretty sure your sinful moans and the squelching sounds could be heard above the overplayed pop on the other side of the door. Good, let them hear. It’ll teach that scrub outside that was eyeing you a thing or two about what he can’t have.

“Hngh- Baby, I’m gonna-”

Once you cum around his tongue, hips bucking wildly and clit catching on his nose as you ride his face, he thinks he’d be happy to die here if it was in-between your legs.

A final peck to your quivering cunt - not a goodbye, no, he’ll be seeing this pretty pussy again - but a prelude for what was to come.

Amidst heated kisses, he lets you taste yourself on his tongue as he hurriedly unbuckles his belt. Fucking trousers - they come with too many fucking buttons. He wants to feel you now. Have your wet cunt pulsing around his painfully hard cock as he gets drunk off of your pretty moans.

So he does.

He only has his flushed tip kissing your folds, but already feels like he’ll fucking pass out. He teases your entrance - willing himself to wait like he did all these past few months. This won’t be the last time - he knows - but he sure as hell is going to treat it like it is.

“Tell me what you want, my sweet girl.” he huffs out, eyes boring into your dazed ones. Beautiful. You were always so beautiful.

“Please. I need you in me so bad.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Please, baby.”

Your lustful whimpers are what makes him snap. You were going to be the death of him.

Fully sheathing himself in you, he fucks your pussy with a merciless cadence that has your nails digging into his shoulder at how painfully good you were stretched. Tight. So tight.

He feels himself losing his sanity as your cunt struggles to adjust to his size, walls clenching down on his throbbing erection. It’s animalistic - the way your pussy tries to suck him back in when he pulls out fully, only to ram inside you again.

“Shit- Pussy made jus’ for me. Only me.” he moans.

One strong arm steadying himself on the counter, and the other with an almost-painful grip on your hip, he keeps up a pace that has his abs burning. Heavy balls stinging as they smack relentlessly against your ass.

He bites down on your exposed neck to muffle the strangled groans ripping from his throat at the ethereal feel of your snug cunt - he needs to better drink in your fucked out yelps at his harsh thrusts.

His dick twitches inside when you start whining out his name as you reach closer and closer to your climax. He could do this forever. You were heaven on Earth.

In his hazy mind, he distinctly registers the jingle of the doorknob. Annoying fuckers can’t take a hint.

“Fuck off.” he barks out, “I’m fuckin’ my future wife in here.”

His heart clenches as you push your face into the crook of his neck in embarrassment. Pulling you closer to him in response - strings of slick and precum connecting you to him - he hopes whoever’s there up above strikes him down if he doesn’t wife you up.

Ah…he’s so close.

There isn’t even a hair’s breadth between your two bodies as he fucks into you mindlessly, not even a trace of thought for the poor soul on the other side of the door. He’s got more important things to do - you.

“Baby- Shit. I’m so close.” your exhausted mewls are music to his ears. His balls tighten and cock aches for release.

Teeth clenched and brows furrowed at how your walls were fluttering around him so perfectly, he grits out “Me too, my girl. Me too.”

Your legs tighten around his toned waist as your cunt clamps down on his thick length - sending both of you over the edge.

He sees stars as he cums. Thick ropes painting your walls white and shaky whimpers of your name leaving his mouth like a prayer. You really were heaven on Earth.

Cum drips down the side when he slows down to shallow grinds of his hips, fucking his cum deeper and deeper into you. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he pulls his sensitive cock out of you.

With a long finger, he gathers the cum now slowly dripping out of you. Pooling it at his fingertips before popping them into his mouth, half-lidded eyes looking right into your fucked out ones. He moans around them as if tasting a delicacy, elated at the way your mouth drops in disbelief at his lewd act.

He feels barely lucid as he snaps your panties back on you with a devilish grin and tucks himself back into his trousers.

Unlocking the door to pointed looks he couldn’t care less about, he can’t keep his eyes off the alluring curve of your hips as you walk away back to the party - pretending like his cum isn’t making a mess of your panties right now.

Dick twitching to life again, he pulls out his phone - unblocking you once more.

– GOJO, Choso, Geto, Suna, ATSUMU, KUROO, Oikawa, Sakusa, JEAN, EREN

A/N. …Gimme a min I’m cooking up something for Suguru…

Plagiarism not authorized.

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sturnlsstuff · 18 days

Text

MISSED YOU | chris sturniolo

| ".... god, i hate that i missed you so much"

pairing: dealer!chris x fem!reader

summary: your dealer has been out of town for almost two weeks and after he's finally back, he texts you needing to see you.

warnings; smut, dom!chris, sub!reader, p in v, pet names, praising, unprotected sex, dirty talking, hair pulling, rough sex, car sex, crying, public¿ sex, cursing, mdni

a/n: literally my first fanfic after a looong time so please bear with me, if its bad... you know why. english isnt my first language so sorry for any mistakes! also its a little long 😭 part two here !!

~~~

she laughed at some joke her friend made and took another bite of her pizza. it was late friday afternoon, she and her bestfriends were hanging out, since there was nothing else to do. everything was great, until her phone buzzed. she looks at her screen, immediately smiling when she sees his name. she wasn't even aware that her lips had curved into a smile.

her friends were too busy with their own conversation, so she uses her moment and grabs her phone, reading the message from chris. she hasn't heard from him in over two weeks, she had no clue what he was doing, or where he was. she also didn't want to ask, hating the feeling of being too desperate. and it's not like he owns her any explanation either.

chris: u busy?

she bites her lip, fighting the urge to smile again as she replies back.

y/n: hi to you too

y/n: yeah im out with friends, whats up

chris: having fun?

chris: when u gonna be home ma?

y/n: like in an hour or so

chris: can u hurry up? c'mon kid i miss ya

y/n: you do???

she can't help but genuinely grins this time, her eyes widen a little. did he miss her? or was he just saying that to make her give in? he always knew how to talk to her, to make her going feral over him. but she wanted to believe he means it this time.

chris: hell yeah i do

chris: get ur ass out here

she looks at her friends, that were still yapping about something, that she couldn't care less about right now. she needed to see him. he never said he missed her before.

y/n: then come pick me up, im sending u the address

chris: omw gorgeous

chris is already in his car, when she sends him the address. not being able to see her for over two weeks, made him think. A lot. he has been her drug dealer for over a year now, there was tension between them since the beginning, so it didnt take them long to finally fuck at some party a few months ago. and since then, it's happening every now and then, usually they meet to smoke together, then they end up all over each other.

after a few minutes, he parks the car in front of the pizzeria, finally seeing her. she made a stupid excuse for her friends to leave, not being able to hide her excitement, so they just could assume what was going on.

chris gets out of the car, looking her up and down, licking his lips as she was only wearing a black crop top and baggy camo pants. he personally loved those, especially on her.

he opens the door for her, a smirk playing on his lips. "get in."

she tried her hardest to act casual, but just seeing him after a while, in all black outfit, was enough to make her dizzy. and she could swear he got a haircut. his hair was so much shorter, and she loved it.

she smiles, keeping the eye contact while getting inside the car. he closes the door, his eyes roaming all over her body as she walked towards him. he snaps back to reality, getting to the other side and climbing back into the drivers seat. he was feeling so many things that he couldn't express.

"missed me so bad, you couldn't wait an hour, huh?" she speaks up, putting on the seatbelt and looking over at him, while he starts the car.

she notices the way he looks her up and down, his eyes stopping at her exposed skin a little too long.

"i've missed my favorite customer." he smirks, going back to the eye contact.

"yeah, your favorite customer... right." she says sarcastically, trying her hardest to keep her cool and not to blush under his stare.

he grins before replying, focused on keeping his hands on the wheel instead of her body. it was getting harder with every second. "yeah, the one i always gotta give free stuff to."

"oh, dont act like i force you to do this..." she scoffs, still looking at him. "you know i always want to pay you."

"i know y'do... doesn't mean i will stop givin' it to you for free though."

"see, and that's crazy."

chris rolls his eyes, loving and hating at the same time, how she always had to talk back to him. he's driving, planning to go to her house, but the way she's looking right now, and especially her attitude, is making him crazy. he feels his dick getting harder with every second.

"whatever, ma. i know you secretly like it."

"yeah, sure." she mumbles with sarcastic tone, her eyes still watching him. seeing him driving was one of her favorite things in the world, he always looked so good. she appreciates, that he gives her stuff for free or cuts down her prices, but dealing was his job, he was making money out of it, so she always felt bad when he didnt want her cash. "what made you busy for so long? thought the cops caught or some shit"

chris bites his lip, his eyes glancing over to her for a second, before focusing back on the road. he never felt so desperate like right now, just having her in his car like that...

once he hears her question, he snaps back to reality and smiles. "the cops? please, sweetheart, they can suck my dick."

chris changes his direction, spotting an empty parking lot and he drives there. "i was out of town, had to deal with some business... nothin' to worry about now." he explains, parking and turning off his car, and his stare travels to her, scanning her face and body. "you're so curious...."

she nods, now understanding why he wasn't texting her these past two weeks, she was a bit ashamed 'cause she honestly thought maybe he got bored of her, so she didn't text him either. she still got some weed until yesterday, so she also had no reason to.

"why would you stop here?" she asks, looking at him with a little frown, but once she sees his smirk, the realization hits her. the excitement filling her body, the tension between them so noticeable, it makes her shiver.

he stares at her for a moment, adjusting his pants and then suddenly he unbuckles his seatbelt, sitting back in his seat so there was more space now.

"c'mere."

her eyes travels down on his lap, seeing the noticeable big bulge even through his jeans. she blushes slightly, looking back at him, the smirk still playing on his lips and it makes her weak in her knees.

"chris..." he cuts her off by reaching over and grabbing her chin, tilting her face closer to his.

"y'gonna do what i said, or keep talking back?"

she immediately unbuckles her seatbelt, moving over the center console and she gets into his lap, straddling him. she wasn't gonna act like she didn't miss him too, because, goddamn, she did. she presses herself onto his hard dick, watching him closely, and seeing how desperate and frustrated he was right now. It made her feel a little bit of a power, that she decided to take advantage of.

"now, was that so hard, ma?" he smirks even more, trying to hide his growing need for her, but his hands moves to grip onto her thighs. he felt the urge to touch her all over.

"you know, fifteen more minutes and we would be at my place-"

"you really think, i would wait fifteen fucking minutes, when i havent seen you for two weeks, and you look like that?" he loves the way she looks at him, with such admiration. she was so pretty in his eyes, he never felt this type of desperation for anyone ever before.

"and who's fault is that?" his hands grips her tighter and puts her closer in on his lap, making a little bit of friction, that he so desperately needs. his fingers digging into her skin, while he stares into her eyes.

"shut up for once, yeah?"

"make me." she smirks, challenging him. he doesn't have to hear it twice, loving the attitude she's giving him right now. his hand moves up from her thigh to the back of her neck, pulling her face closer and he kisses her roughly, grabbing her ass with his other hand as he does.

she smiles against his lips, immediately kissing him back with the same intensity, and she grinds down against his clothed dick, feeling her own need growing with every second. she missed the way he kissed her, she missed his lips, his hands all over her, his body against hers. she missed him and she hated to admit that.

she slides her tongue into his mouth, he bites her lip in response and lets her lead the kiss. moving up his hips to feel her more and not being able to hold back, he groans against her lips. he never felt so needy before. he pulls away for a moment to speak, and starts trailing kisses down her neck, squeezing her ass, before his hand moves up, caressing the skin on her exposed stomach.

"god, i hate that i missed you so much."

it slips from his mouth, he doesn't think much about it as he sucks on her skin, but for her it meant everything. she tilts back her head, giving him more space and she grinds against his lap some more, running her hand through his brown hair. he lets out a growl as she grinds down on him, making him even harder and he bucks his hips up again. lifting up his head from her neck his stare finds hers, the noticeable lust in his eyes made her bite her lip to hold back a moan. the smirk coming back to his face once he notices her flushed cheeks.

"what 'bout you, huh, ma? missed me too?"

she closes her eyes, their face so close to each other, it makes their lips brush when she replies him back.

"yeah... i did"

he grins, his hands playing with the waistband of her pants. that's all he needed to know, that she missed him as much as he missed her. even though they both were aware, they should'nt.

"how much, hm?" he unzips her pants, she lifts herself up, gripping his shoulders to balance herself and helps him take them off. then she straddles him again, trying to hold back her smile, but not being able to.

"want me to show you?"

he groans after her words, feeling her wet panties pressing against his hard dick and he bucks up his hips again, being so desperate, that he was ready to beg her. he starts marking her neck again, his hand traveling between her legs, massaging her clit through her underwear. her breath hitches in her throat, she lets out a little whine and grips his hair slightly.

"so wet already... shiiiitttt... all this f'me, huh?" he says against her skin, bitting on it slightly and making her moan. he adds more pressure, circling over her clit. "lift this shit up."

his tone demanding, he wasn't asking. she lifts up her top, revealing her breasts. he looks at her now, his eyes going back and forth between her tits, and her face. "fuck... not wearing a bra? fuckin' slut..."

he licks her hard nipple, then starting sucking on it. her hand tightens in his hair, tilting her head back and she lets out more whimpers. she was supposed to be the one in control this time, she craved it and saw how needy he is, but the way he's touching her, makes her losing her mind. he then pulls her panties to the side, running his fingers through her wet folds and suddenly putting one inside her. not even giving her any time, he just starts pumping in and out, adding another finger after a moment, now stretching her out. he pulls away from her nipple, looking at her face.

"c-chris..." she moans quietly, trying her hardest to keep the eye contact, but struggles to do so. her hands now traveling down his chest and unbuckling his belt.

"yeah, ma? y'like that?" he tries to keep his cool, still working his fingers inside her dripping pussy, curling them and making her whine in response. "look at you... so, fuckin' desperate on my lap. missed my fingers, huh? want some more?"

she desperately nods, squeezing around his fingers, but once he feels that, he pulls them out immediately putting them in his mouth to lick them clean. she whines, pouting her lips when he stops.

"show me how much you missed this dick then."

she bites her lip, unzipping his pants and with his help, she pulls them down to his knees, his boxers following after a second. chris leans his head back against the seat, gripping her hips as she gives him a few strokes before pulling her underwear to the side. she runs her thumb over his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it all over his cock, using it as a lubricant and then she lowers herself slowly on his cock, the movement making them both moan out loud with pleasure. she stays like this for a moment, needing to adjust after these past two weeks without him.

"fuckk...so tight...your pussy was made f'me.." he groans, tightening his grip on her hips and he watches her closely, as she finally starts moving on him. he’s holding himself back from moving up his hips and taking over, trying so hard not to thrust into her. he loves the feeling of her body against his and he’s missed it so much. he needed it, he needed her and he hated that. the feeling just kept growing, making the space in the car feel even smaller.

he pulls her back down into another kiss, this time more sloppy, continuing to move his tongue against hers, tasting her. she kisses him back, starting speeding up her pace and now bouncing on him harder. his dick hitting just all the right spots, making her moan loudly while chris tries to focus on the kiss and not to lose his composure. he wanted to take over, he always did, but the feeling of her riding him like that, has him gripping the seat. he grits his teeth, trying to keep himself together and he knows his patience wont last long. he looks up at her again, his eyes glued to her face.

"fuckkkk, ma.... takin' all of me so well... shit..." he hisses, when she speeds up even more. "so good.... s-so good f'me...."

she grips into his shoulders more, moaning loudly at his praises and she continues moving. chris is in complete ecstasy as she picks the pace up, a feeling like he hasn’t experienced before. there's just something about her on top and taking what she wants, that's got him feeling so many things at once.

“fuck.. just like that” one of his hands grab her ass, giving it a squeeze and then slapping it. "fuckin' slut... you like it? fucking in my car? takin' it just like a little bitch.... yeah? shitttt..."

he moans now not being able to hold back, and he starts thrusting into her. she gasps for air, her eyes closing shut as she tightens around him. "oh, wanna cum, huh? not yet darlin'...." he grips her hips more, his tip hitting her g-spot with every move.

"chris i-"

she cuts herself off with another moan, not being able to think straight. she digs her nails into the back of his neck, her head falling down on his shoulder and he immediately stops. her eyes snap open, she lifts up her head to look at him, a smirk playing on his lips.

"you better don't look away f'me, ma.... wanna see your pretty face y'know? and keep makin' those sexy little sounds...got it?"

she nods, but it's not enough from him as he speaks up again. "use your words baby, c'mon... you aint that fucked out of your mind yet, hm?"

"i got it, just... please..." she whines, moving her hips, wanting to bounce on him again, but he stops her. she pouts. "chrissss......"

"get to the backseat." he demands, after scanning her face for a while. he wanted to give her all the pleasure she deserves. he wasn't even thinking about himself, he couldn't care less about his release. he just needed to make her feel good, making sure no one else can do what he can.

she pulls away from him, now moving over the center console again, struggling a bit but she gets into the backseat. chris obviously smacks her ass as she does, what makes her squeak.

"chris!"

but he just smirks, pulling off his pants and boxers all the way down and throwing it on the passenger seat, so it wasn't in the way. he gets on the back himself, there was little space, but enough to get into his favorite position. chris puts his hand on her back, forcing her to get on her knees and hands on the seat, as he positions himself behind her. chris loves the way he can get her all desperate and begging, so he teases her now. he moves his tip along her folds, making her whine. then he slowly puts it in, but after a few seconds he pulls back again.

"chris...." she whines, knowing he's playing with her now.

"yeah, baby?"

she bites her lip, her face pressing into the seat and she lifts up her hips more. "stop teasing me, please...."

he grins even more, slapping her pussy with his dick and then he suddenly pulls his cock all the way in, making her gasp and scream out of pleasure. the new angle let him hit all of her sweet spots.

"whatever you want, princess." he starts thrusting into her with a very intense and fast pace, going as deep as he could. the car now filled up with her moans and the sounds of skin slapping against each other. he grips her hips tight, keeping her in place. he can feel her squeezing around his cock again, and he lets out a growl. "c'mon.... cum all over me...wanna see you while y'do..."

chris moves one of his hands, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back, having a good view on her face. her mouth wide open, letting out loud moans, her eyes rolling back.

"oh my god!" she cries out, gripping the edge of the seat like her life depended on it and she releases, the wet, squelching sound coming from her now louder. he groans, kissing her neck and whispering into her ear.

"you feel so good... cummin' like that f'me... such a good girl.."

she moans, squeezing around him again, the overstimulation now making her shiver as he keeps going with the crazy pace, not slowing down at all. he lets go of her hair, her head immediately falling onto the seat and he grips by her hips again, making sure she feels him as deep as he wants her to. he growls, being on the edge himself.

"i'm... close.." he mutters, throwing his head back. "gonna fill you up, yeah?"

she whines nodding desperately, but then he smacks her ass giving her a sign to answer verbally.

"shit! yes, fuck, yes chris, please!" she feels tears filling up her eyes from the pleasure, a few of them coming down her cheeks moment later. chris bites his lip, feeling her tightening around him. he moves one of his hands between her legs, now rubbing her clit, while still thrusting hard into her, but his movements getting sloppier. she cries out, her legs trembling and his dick twitches, finally cumming inside her, his warm sticky release filling her up and dripping out of her. he curses under his breath, digging his fingers into her skin, leaving bruises as he does. she feels him cumming, and the overstimulation from him lazily massaging her clit and still hitting her g-spot, makes her finish again. the pressure in her stomach now becoming too much, unable to hold back, she feels the liquid squirts out of her in waves.

his eyes snap open, looking down at her and he growls. he slows down until he eventually stops, after they both ride out their highs, this time not wanting to overstimulate her. looking at the mess she made, he can't help but feel a bit cocky about it.

"shit, ma.... squirtin' all over me, huh? is it how it is now?" he smirks, a little surprised that he made her do that but he couldn't be more proud. he pulls out of her, letting go of her hips and her body immediately falls onto the seat. she's breathing heavily, not being able to reply yet. "that's my fuckin' girl.."

he runs his fingers along her inner thigh, collecting her and his cum and he leans in a bit, covering over her. he looks at her fucked out expression and the smudged mascara on her cheeks. "look at me."

she opens her eyes, her mind blank, body shaking. he puts his fingers into her mouth, she immediately cleans them up, tasting both his and her release on her tongue, making sure she keeps the eye contact with him while she does that.

"you're so hot." he says now kissing the tears on her cheeks away. "took me so well..."

she smiles, seeing his flushed cheeks and messy hair sticking to his forehead. it was her favorite view.

"y'good, kid? don't go all mute on me now.."

"don't call me that...." she mumbles, trying to get her sarcastic attitude back, but she was absolutely spent right now. "i'm fine."

he just grins, gently patting her cheek before he pulls away. she slowly lifts herself up, trying to fight her trembling legs and she sits up now, facing him. not being able to do anything more yet, her glare moving to her legs and the seat she made mess on. she feels her cheeks growing hotter, now suddenly embarrassed and trying to ignore his stare. this never happened to her with him before and she didn't know what he thought about it.

"sorry about... the seats" she mumbles, grimacing.

he raises his eyebrows, now seeing her embarrassment and he doesn't understand why. it was a little surprising but he felt so proud. he already wanted to make her do it all over again. "you f'real? don't even say sorry, ever again."

she's still not so sure, blushing even more as he wipes her cheeks from the smudged mascara and then runs his hand through her hair, trying to fix it a little bit. he smiles softly. "gonna clean this up later, don't you worry 'bout that, okay?"

chris then reaches into the center console for the tissues, grabbing them and spreading her legs with his hands. she watches him closely seeing how he starts just gently cleaning her up. this simple movement makes her feel the heat rising from her cheeks down to her neck, so she just covers her face with her hands shyly. not really being able to understand why is she so embarrassed this time, he grabs her wrists, forcing her hands to move away from her face.

"y'gotta be kiddin' me. don't hide from me, ma." chris mutters. "not when you made such pretty mess in my car."

with a quiet sigh, she lets him take her hands off of her face. she chews on her bottom lip nervously while he goes back to cleaning her up, touching her slightly as she was made from some kind of glass. it was even cute, how he just made sure she was fine. it's not their first rough sex, but this one was definitely more intense and for some reason felt so... different. she had this strange feeling in her chest, just seeing him focused on wiping her legs and how he didn't seem to care about his covered in her release seats. once he's done, he sits beside her, wrapping his hand around her shoulder and pulling her close. she doesn't like the silence, even if before it was never awkward, this one was bothering her as she couldn't stop feeling unfamiliar emotions.

"i ran out, by the way." she suddenly blurts out, making him laugh. there was no way in hell this girl was real.

"yeah? good to know. gonna give y'some more later."

"im paying this time."

"oh, you've paid enough already." she immediately looks up at him, smacking his shoulder and he chuckles in response, pretending to be in pain. "woaaahh, bein' a little brat again, hm?"

"that's not funny, im giving you money." her tone shows no objection, he smirks and nods, knowing he won't take anything from her anyway. they sit like that for a moment, before he speaks up, knowing he will get another hit after that.

"soooo... round two?"

"christopher, i swear to god."

_____________________________

a/n: oh my god this seems sooo long 😭 tell me what yall think, i feel like i kinda fucked up with the whole dealer vibe but lmk please! i honestly enjoyed writing that so who knows..

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x fem reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #smut #dealer chris

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solbaby7 · 3 months

Note

I love your work, and I’ve been creeping on your master list and it’s so good 😭❤️❤️❤️… pls do one with Azriel and AFAB reader who finds out first that they’re true mates but says nothing at all, too scared that he’ll reject her cause he’s in love with Elain and she witnesses the whole necklace gifting/almost kiss between them and runs away, tries to avoid both of them for days and gets sick or injured or something and that’s when Az realizes it too and smut ensues 🫶😭❤️

Since You Have A Lover

pairing : azriel x afab!reader

warnings: angst babe, torture too (oops👀🤣), not proofread, swearing, probs typos, mild smut at the end, testing out the longer fics and then we’re gonna figure out if longer or shorter is better 🫣

thank you for the request bean! i switched it up a little to add some much needed angst but i’m so happy you’ve been enjoying 💗💗

oh and…educate a girl. wtf is afab?👀 respectfully ofc

—

Deep breaths and a lowered gaze is how you make it through family dinners as your stomach lurches uncomfortably.

The feeling never got easier, even after months of enduring the debilitating emotions that ensued from watching your mate love another.

It’s instinctual to be jealous—to compare yourself to Elain when Azriel refused to tear his eyes away. He was supposed to be your equal and yet the longer dinner went on with overhearing their hushed conversation and not-so-sneaky touches under the table; you felt anything but suitable in comparison.

Drowning those thoughts is surprisingly easy, a plethora of wine bottles are scattered about the table and not a single person bats an eye when you snatch one up for yourself. They’re too caught up in each other to realize you’ve slipped away; abandoning the suffocating love that permeated from every direction besides your own.

Fresh air helps a little, the stolen bottle of wine aiding in keeping you warm from the unforgiving nighttime chill. Eventually the cool bite doesn’t send shivers down your spine and you barely even flinch when bare skin meets cold stone, your gaze dipping down to lively town below.

Time moves too quickly as the observer, seconds bleeding into minutes until hours have passed and the bottle has nothing left to offer. There’s a brief moment where your foggy brain contemplates the effort it would take to retrieve another when your solitude is broken.

Two bodies burst through the balcony doors on the furthest side, mostly concealed by trees and flowers but you’d recognize those wings anywhere. A hand smacks over your mouth to conceal any sound, body freezing in place as you witness Azriel press Elain into the wall, his hands cradling the sides of her face lovingly.

A part of you shatters when you catch that sparkle in his eye, the eagerness in his movement to have her closer until her cheeks go flush and thick lashes flutter closed in preparation for the sweet kiss Azriel is sure to grant her.

You’re unable to stomach another moment and neither of them even flinch when you shuffle from your spot and make a bee-line for the exit. Tears cloud your vision, shoulders shaking and steps unsteady as you all but run through the halls, darting up the stairs and colliding right into another body. “Oh,” The startled sound is all but whimpered out of you and red eyes and splotchy cheeks are the first thing Nesta sees as you look up. “Gods, I’m sorry.” You scramble to your feet, retrieving the book she’d dropped in the collision. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching here I was going.”

“That’s not like you.”

A weak smile quirks at the corner of your mouth, unbound hair in unruly strands down your shoulders. “I’m not quite myself at the moment.”

Nesta hums in response, slender arms crossing over her chest and the fabrics of her nightgown shifts with the motion. Her gaze is scrutinizing, picking apart the truth from the lies and you’re infinitely grateful that she doesn’t call you out on your state of disarray. “Want me to walk you to your room?”

“No.” You whisper, hastily wiping your cheeks and attempting to smooth down stray hairs and wrinkled silks. “No, I think I’m going to go for a walk instead. I could use the fresh air.”

“It’s three in the morning.”

Nesta's neck cranes, slowly turning on the balls of her feet as you swiftly slip past her and make way for your chambers. Perhaps, it's the defeated slump of your shoulders that catches Lady Death's attention; that emptiness in your eyes that couldn't even be filled by the overflowing tears that stained your cheeks.

She considers waking Cassian--he always was better equipped to handle the emotions of others but you're already gone, disappearing behind the door without even saying goodnight. Something about the interaction forces her to linger, smutty book long forgotten as she waits to see you creep out that same room ten minutes later.

You're dressed to better accommodate the weather now. Thick leathers insulating body heat while subconsciously providing much needed compression--the tight fabric mimics comfort in its attempt to hold together the broken bits of you shoved inside.

Nesta's lips part, a million possible words resting at the tip of her tongue but you're quick to intercept, tone numb and alarmingly empty. "Don't wait up."

Being alone was supposed to be relaxing.

Distracting, at the very least.

But, all you could feel was the cool prickle of awareness at the back of your neck the whole time you sat at the edge of the mountains that overlooked the Sidra. Each time you'd slow your breathing and attempt to regulate the unusual beat of your heart with the captivating view of Velaris at night. While most were inside, the homes that resided there were full of life; lights glowing golden through their windows, laughs ebbing through the woodwork and creating a sense of serenity that refuses to wash over you as well.

Eyes narrow, shoulders squaring and fingers twitch for the sharp daggers strapped to your thighs. The thick trees you’d come through seems far less attractive now, branches craning out like grabbing hands with gaps of murky darkness that resembled giant mouths waiting to swallow you up. “Nesta?”

The chuckle that breaks through the clearing is anything but feminine. “Not quite.”

It happens too fast--the hand that smacks over your mouth to mute the startled scream that rips free. You push against the solid wall of a body stationed behind you, attempting to sway his stability in order to break free but a sharp sting in your neck renders you still.

The burn that follows is instant and before you can stop it, the unforgiving darkness becomes all you know.

The palpable tension at breakfast is suffocating.

Azriel's seething brood casts angsty shadows along his strong build, creating a visible wall between himself and his High Lord after the stern conversation he was forced into the night before. It runs on repeat in the shadow singers mind, the order given to back off on his affections towards the middle Archeron sister.

It seems cruel. A sick form of punishment that Azriel can't quite wrap his mind around because who was really in charge of the tragectory of his life? Azriel ? Or his High Lord?

The mere thought has his teeth grinding in silent contempt, his gaze flickering around the table before landing on the bare spot directly across from him. His brows furrow, confusion briefly sweeping away the rage as he considers the time--your usual schedule and the words leave his mouth before he can stop them. "Where is she?"

A brief pause, the casual conversation slowing to a halt until Azriel catches a glimpse of something on Nesta's face--a strain of guilt he'd seen a million times on a trillion different faces. "Left earlier this morning." Polished silverware scrapes at fine china, pushing aside food that her body refuses to indulge in. "Said she was going for a walk."

Discontentment settles into Azriel's bones--a feeling he struggles to understand and Nesta's answer only exasperates the unsteady sensation.

"In this weather?" Grey clouds are thick in the sky, shades of slate and granite completely masking the sun as relentless rains pour down from above. "When was this?"

"Around three."

Cassian swears lowly from beside his mate, a sturdy hand resting at her shoulders but the regret lacing his features speaks plenty about the decision to stay quiet for so long. It was too dangerous, especially after the last few meetings Rhys had with Kier in Hewn. Change took time and the Steward and his men were complaining about that change taking too long. Hateful words were thrown in the name of the people of Hewn City and how they had desires too; dreams of a better world for themselves and their children but the High Lord’s better judgement rose question to the other consequences that could arise from giving what they were asking for. "Ness that was nearly eight hours ago."

The screech of Azriel's chair draws attention, a sudden boost of fuel being injected in his veins. "Did she tell you where she was going exactly?"

Nesta’s tone turns into vitriol, a subconscious reaction to the guilt that gnawed at her bones for not seeking for you sooner after finding you in your state. The reminder of tears streaming down your face flashes behind her eyelids; the choppiness of your words through labored breathing. How desperately you’d attempted to wrangle it together just long enough to make it to your room and suddenly the eldest Archeron feels that familiar uselessness creep beneath her skin. “She didn’t leave me a map with a drawn out route—she just said she needed air.”

“While crying?” It wasn’t intentional, Rhysand seeing the flash of memory that Nesta had unknowingly projected; her mental walls caving for just a fraction of a minute before the iron doors had regained their formidable security. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Silverware clatters against the table, staining table linen in strawberry jam but no one seems to give a shit when the severity of the situation behinds to settle over the room. Nesta runs a hand against the material of her dress, smoothening out wrinkles and creases in order to avoid all of the eyes settling over her face. “I was just going to the library to read and we bumped into each other. She came from the balcony—I offered to walk her to her room but she just…” A sigh pulls free, jaw setting tightly. “I let her go.”

“Nesta.” Feyre’s slow shake of her head holds enough disappointment to have Nesta’s shoulders squaring on the defensive.

“I’m not some evil bitch, I waited up!” She seethes, the beginnings of those silver flames lapping at the steely grey of her eyes but the fight within isn’t truly directed towards Feyre or anyone else but herself. Because she’d felt the exact moment that you walked from the doors and winnowed away, that she’d made a grave mistake. Nesta’s shoulders sag, fingers bunching unforgivingly into the inky linen cloth until she felt the tips of her nails digging into the polished mahogany underneath. “I waited.”

Azriel’s already out of the room without a word.

He didn’t have a right to shame her because Azriel had a feeling he knew what sent you running.

His teeth grind together when thinking back to the night before when he and Elain had scuffled off onto the balcony at the witching hour; hoping their sins would be shielded by the dark cast of night. Too caught up in one another to consider another already occupying the space.

And, no matter how many times Azriel brushed his fingertips over the soft curve of Elain’s cheeks or vyed for a fleeting touch when passing in the hallways—the kiss he thought he wanted lacked the spark he was sure would flicker to life when lips grazed.

He’d pulled away so abruptly, brows furrowing in a stark line discontentment that was visible to anyone with eyes and then he heard the broken whimper of a gasp.

It’s been too easy to pass it off as Elain and far easier for him to forget about it altogether after Rhysand had found an embarrassed Elain rushing back to her room with flushed cheeks and an unsteady gait. He’d never heard his brother shout so loud, the veins in his neck protruding as he ordered Azriel to never even look her way again. That if a quick fuck in the dead of the night was what he desired then Azriel should wander along the cobblestone streets of Velaris and find himself a suitable pleasure house and pay for it.

The words act as fuel, Azriel’s senses working on overdrive; shadows scrying for information faster than ever before until they’d returned with something he could work with.

Dropped neatly in his palms were the cool steel of your twin blades that never left the secure holsters forever strapped to your thighs.

And they were soaked in your blood.

—

You recognized the suffocating dank smell that tended to fester when stuffed so far beneath the earth—the perfect dungeon.

One you’d been in countless times before, wearing that shadowy mask of indifference when masquerading as the soulless monster that became necessary to survive while in Hewn City. It took decades of assistance by Azriel’s side; an apprentice of sorts when the bounds of your affections had just begun testing its limits—wondering to see just how far you’d go just to be near him.

To get him to notice you. Your mate. Yours. Yours.

All of that seems so foolish now. Insignificant compared to the dire situation you’d found yourself entangled in.

Sharp twinges of pain throb up your neck, aches settling in from the uncomfortable position and it’s a strain when you shift in attempts to take in your surroundings. Fear lurches in your chest when your hands don’t move, restrained by chains that had you hung up like a prized hog after a fresh hunt.

Not good. Not good. Not good. So, not good.

“I always did love that look.” Immediately your spine goes ramrod straight, fingers clenching into fists over the cool bite of the chains as that voice washed over you like a bucket of water. Refreshing on your own terms and a horrible wake up call when it wasn’t. “When panic shifts into realization—truly a sight worth capturing. Especially when attached to such a delicate disposition.”

Delicate?

You’d never once used that word in ordinance to yourself.

Hearing it now, under such circumstances makes your heart lurch, it’s beat untamed against your ribcage and it takes every bit of strength left to smooth that look of utter calm across your features. “Come a little closer, let me show you how sweet I can get.”

The underlying threat is easily palpable and Kier is wise not to follow the bait; aware of the wounded animals ability to put up a considerable fight and he’s too coward to brawl fairly. “As tempting as that is, it won’t be me who plays with you tonight.” Your teeth bare into a snarl, pure promise rumbling from your chest and the sound encourages a chuckle from the male.

He’s not close enough to injure; to swing the brunt of your weight around for a well-timed kick that you knew would disable long enough to figure a way out of these damn restraints. But even with the distance between you, the resemblance between this male and Mor was striking. She’d inherited the shape of his lips, even if the words she spoke were far sweeter than the shit spewed from her predecessor. More similarities are spotted during your scrutinizing evaluation of him; the line of his nose, the shade of his hair, the confident air that oozed from his form—no matter how misplaced it was.

“I’ll kill anyone who dares lay a finger on me.”

“So much fight in you,” Kier all but croons, his eyes raking across your body in a way that was less than savory. “I can’t wait to see how long it lasts.”

Breathe.

Years of training beside the spymaster had prepared you for this very moment and it’s easier to drift back into the memory of just another session; before things had gotten so complicated and he’d just been a friend eager to teach if you were willing to learn. Countless times you’d been in a similar situation—you, waking up tied up to some chair with ropes securing every possible joint in place and Azriel would leave you there as long as it took for you to figure your way out of it.

Allow the thrum of your heart be the beat that keeps you focused.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Relax and take in your surroundings. Notice things no one else thinks is important because that could be the one thing that keeps you from an untimely death.

The cell wasn’t very large, four stone walls covered in grime and mildew with just enough space for two grown men to fit semi-comfortably. No windows. One door with a thin slot at the top large enough for two eyes to peer inside. No fire. No light. No warmth. No breeze, just stale, dank air that tasted of iron when your breathed in too deep.

Just stay alive long enough to get help.

“What do you want from me?”

Kier inhales a greedy breath, his chest expanding in the ornate armor worn. It glistens even with no light—proving that even with his privileged title, he was never the one who got his hands dirty. “Many things,” He finally confessed, the words airy and nonchalant. He’s too cocky. Too comfortable. “But first, I want you to tell me about the Cursebreakers sisters.” He dares a step closer, arms crossed casually behind his back as a dark look begins to worm its way into his eye. “I want you to tell me everything you know about the Made ones and the power they stole from the Cauldron.”

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

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

A smile works its way across his face—one so familiar it taints good memories with its stain. “I hoped you’d say that.” Kier walks past, the smell of his cologne burning your nostrils and you couldn’t imagine ever smelling tobacco and ash, bergamot and oakmoss without gagging ever again.

One knock on the thick steel door and slender male with hair like soot and eyes like a raven enters.

Your face remains a blank slate. Even as you take in the rubber material of his apron and the sturdy material of his leather boots. Well used gloves cover his hands and tucked under his left arm is a rawhide holder filled to the brim with all kinds of terrifying treats.

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

“Who are you?”

He takes his sweet time answering. Making a show of neatly setting down the holder and undoing the braided leather straps holding it in place. “You can call me the Butcher—everyone else does.”

“How original.” A thick swallow to quell the nerves; to shove away the shake that threatened to disturb your carefully curated cadence. The chains rattle as you shift, the tips of your toes just barely skimming the cool ground beneath you but not quite enough to relieve your wrists of the burden of bearing the entirety of your weight. “Well, Butcher—come make yourself useful and loosen my chains, will you? It’s starting to chafe a bit.”

His head shakes in his denial, barely acknowledging the departing Steward and the heavy thud of the shutting door—a lock sliding into place. “You don’t really want me to do that.” For donning such a threatening title, the Butcher is deceivingly soft-spoken. It sends your nerves into a fritz, triggering your fight or flight and for the first time since your eyes had opened and the darkness had waned; that delicately woven web of control slips from your grasp. “If you’re as stubborn as I think you are,” The sharp ring of metal twangs through the air and in his grasp is a perfectly polished knife a little too curved to be considered a scalpel. “You’ll need something to hold onto. It helps with the pain…for a time.”

Breathe.

“Then let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

Butcher chuckles low under his breath, full lips concealed by an ever fuller beard—the only thing about him that wasn’t perfectly trim and proper. “Not a fan of foreplay?”

Fingers curl around the cool bite of thick chains, your chest rising and falling in a steady pattern as you began to dissociate. An attempt to keep your mind as protected as possible from whatever was to come. “I’m more of a rip-the-bandaid kind of girl.”

Death clings to the pristinely polished rubber of his apron, the creak of his gloves filling the space as worn fingers ready around the hilt of his weapon. “You know,” Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. Disappear off into that numb place deep, deep within your mind. Ignore the bite of the blade poking around already sensitive wounds. “Under entirely different circumstances, I think I might’ve actually liked you.”

The switch flips so fast—too fast for you to catch but it’s impossible to miss the devastating burn that ripples through you as flesh is severed, muscle flayed and so, so much blood spilled.

It’s hard to keep track of how much time passes down here without access to windows and you’re certain that it’s intentional, aiding in the psychological aspect of their torture.

Relax and take in your surroundings. Notice things no one else thinks is important because that could be the one thing that keeps you from an untimely death.

The masculine baritone of Azriel’s teachings repeated like a mantra in your mind until it becomes the only thing distracting you from the sound of your flesh tearing, your blood drip, drip, dripping a misshapen puddle beneath you.

You force yourself to keep conscious, mentally noting anything your eyes are able to latch onto. Insignificant things; ebony hair, umber skin, a brand burned into the middle of Butcher’s left wrist in a symbol half-obscured by his gloves.

There’s a block on your powers, not quite faebane in its most lethal dose but paired with the wards humming against the walls, you knew using magic wouldn’t be an option for you. “Tell me about the Made ones and I can stop.”

“I don’t know anything.”

Just stay alive long enough to get help.

“You live there with them,” Butcher goads, crooked teeth exposed when gritted into that grimace of a sneer. Leather creaks under the playful twist of his wrist, the sharpened blade carving at muscle and obliterating sinew until you swear it reaches bone. “You share drink and food, you fight beside them in battle and you expect us to believe that secrets aren’t shared as well?” Every breath is ragged, a sheen of sweat coating your skin and unruly hair sticks to the curve of your neck. “Tell me what you know before I decide to get a little more creative in my methods.”

“Even if I did know anything, why the hell would I tell you? What would Hewn scum do with such knowledge?”

Your words have nicked a nerve, robbing the Butcher of that soft-spoken charm and replacing it with something more sinister. “You say the same thing to that bastard Illyrian you’re always seen around?”

A brow quirks, furrowing ever so slightly as it became more and more apparent that this was more than some spur of the moment kidnapping. Their questions, the desire to keep you immobile and battered but not enough to render you unconscious—not enough to be fatal. For whatever reason, they needed you alive and judging by the desperation that claws its way to the edges of Butchers voice, his curses and demands falling on deaf ears as your mind runs on overdrive to accumulate all the information you could before it was too late.

Each breath grows more labored, lashes fluttery and thick with exhaustion but just when it feel like too much—when you feel like giving up and succumbing to the sweet oblivion.

The rake of talons brushes against your mental walls. A cautious prod, testing your durability and utter relief washes over you when that feline lilt floods your consciousness. “We’re coming, just stay awake.”

The syllables barely reach your ears, sound faded by the obnoxious ringing that refused to subside—a side affect from all the fucking screaming and shouting. Swears slurring together the longer you snapped at the male before you, knees jerking and wounds barking in agony when the heel of your foot smashes so hard into his nose, his skull caves in; limp body dropping to the floor with a thud.

It’s all the strength you have in you and the death-grip you have around the chains is released all at once. Time moves in slow motion as you dangle there, vision darkening at the edges and that thrum of your heartbeat loud enough to distract you anymore. “Rhys they want— they want…”

So much blood oozes from your wounds, drenching your leathers all the way through and you were definitely feeling the affects. Your vision blurs, lids going lazy with just enough time to hear that voice—Azriel’s voice bellowing your name. “Stay alive.” He mutters over and over and over when he’s finally reached you, adrenaline pumping so high that he breaks the chains from their bolt with nothing more than his bare hands. “Do you hear me? Don’t you dare fucking die on me.”

You swear you try to obey the command, desiring nothing more than to keep Azriel's attention after finally being front and center in it. But it just felt so safe held in his grasp, tucked so close to his chest while he rids you of your restraints and applies pressure to gaping wounds.

All you wanted was one second. If you closed your eyes just for a second to gather your wits then you'd wake up and everything would be okay.

It sounds like a good idea-- so good that you allow the peace to wash over you like a cool tide washing over the shore in the early days of the burning summer; ignoring the desperate shouts from a vignette of voices that fades in the background like the haunting final notes of a song.

—

Confusion crashes at you in unforgiving waves, memories --or were they dreams?-- flash behind your lids with each blink. A dull throb pounds behind your lids, aggravating your mental shields to the point where you feel them wobble with each breath.

"You should stay still." Azriel's saying without giving you time to clear through the dense fog plaguing your mind. Instead, he busies his hands with fussing over your blankets, carefully tucking bare toes and pressing a five finger grip on your sternum when you attempt to rise from the soft cushion of a mattress that certainly did not belong to you. "It took Madja a while to get you all stitched up. Are you in pain? She left ointments and a few tinctures."

He's graceful enough not to mention the owlish blink of your eyes and their befuddled examination of his room until the crackly rasp of your voice cuts through the space; both of you refusing to address the elephant in the room. "My head hurts a little."

"Yeah," Shadows fuss with warm rags, sweeping it over your forehead and dabbing it along your cheeks while others occupy themselves with filling a glass of water to offer. "Rhys will be by later to apologize for that, I'm sure."

Your brows furrow deeply, nose scrunching when you sip your water. "Apologize for what?"

"You were in distress. We thought you were going to--" Azriel abruptly cuts himself off, fingers curling into fists at his sides. "Rhys went in your mind, said that before you'd gone unconscious that you were trying to tell him something that seemed urgent enough to bypass the usual request to wait for permission."

Your heart begins to pick up speed in your chest and suddenly the desire to rise from this bed and run away was becoming horribly intense. Legs shift under the weight of a duvet that didn't belong to you, attempting to hide the way your sore muscles sink into the overwhelming scent of night-chilled mist. "Okay...and what did he see?"

"He saw you get taken," Azriel turns his back to you, expertly avoiding your eyes but the nervous energy buzzing off his skin was unmistakable. "He watched them carve you up and torture you for information about Nesta and Elain." The stabilizing breath he takes shakes his shoulders, the strong line of muscle barely concealed by the tight stretch of his leathers--leathers still stained in the blood of those who'd spilled yours, no doubt. "Rhys said that you didn't say a word. You didn't give them a thing."

"That's good, right?" A pillow is fluffed behind you, shadows doting on every need. "Then, why do you sound so upset?"

"Why do I sound so upset?" Azriel cruelly mocks, his aurate gaze positively smoldering with rage when they land on you. "Because, you almost died! You almost died in my fucking arms before I ever got the chance to—. What the hell were you thinking?"

The beating you'd endured does nothing to quell your fiery spirit, eyes lighting with life and lips running a mile a minute—too fast for your logical brain to keep up with. "I was thinking that they wanted information on your precious, little girlfriend." You all but spit out, childishly pushing away the comfort the duvet from your legs as you attempt to shuffle from Azriel's bed without disturbing the tight wrap of your bandages. Why the hell were you in here anyway? "I was thinking that maybe, it'd be easier for them to fucking butcher me rather than watch what would happen to you if it were Elain there in my place."

Silence stretches along the hardwood floor, cloaking up the length of the walls and muting out the low crackle of the fireplace; its flame gentle and calm in the midst of an emotional storm. "I almost wish you would've let it be her." Azriel fills the void, finally mustering up the courage to face you. "I could've survived that and whatever consequences came along with it because my mate takes precedence above all."

Just like that, all the spitfire you’d prepared in retaliation absolutely dissipates after hearing those two words. “Your mate.”

Azriel doesn’t confirm with words. Instead, he searches inside for the humming gold thread wrapped taut around his ribs, just above his heart and pulls. Fucking yanking at it with all his might and something sparkles in his eye when your body jerks in retaliation.

“You know?”

“How long have you known?”

Your heartbeat hammers against your ribcage, threatening to carve out a hole if that’s what it took to get to its other half. “A while.”

“And you’ve said nothing.” He says, tone sounding almost defeated. “Why wouldn’t you have said anything?”

“Because, Az,” The shadows have seized their tireless caretaking, sliding back into place beside their master as you lose the ability to accept the tender affection. “You wouldn’t have chosen me. Not before Mor and certainly not before Elain.” You’re quick to bristle over that part, not leaving any room for the spymaster to interrupt no matter how expressive his face became. “Besides, the bond is a choice not a burden and that’s what it would’ve been for you if I spoke up about it.” Pure determination is what allows you to bear the brunt of your weight , willing yourself to appear strong in the face of the male who could render you to cinders if he so pleased. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d really like to shower the dungeon smell off of me.”

A childish whine of a noise is ripped from your throat when Azriel huffs out a breath, murmuring something about you being stubborn as hell before carefully picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom. It's embarrassing, a furious blush burning at the apples of your cheeks as he starts the shower, adjusts the temperature and slowly sets you down. "Thank you for that but you don't have to do this. I can handle cleaning myself."

"You can barely stand on solid ground on your own."

"I'll manage."

"I know. What I'm saying is that you don't have to." You nearly faint on the spot when Azriel crouches down in front of you, his hands shaky but sure when unlatching the difficult ties of your fighting leathers. His teeth grit together when the fabric is loosened and carefully worked down your thighs, over your knees and tugged away from your ankles. "Just let me help."

Azriel is nothing short of respectful, you notice. He doesn't sneak salacious peeks at the endless expanse of bare skin that he exposes. Doesn't once mention the tremble of your breath or the way your fingers seem to bite into the flesh of his arms whenever a new article of clothing is removed and dropped to the floor. Even after he's eased you into the shower stream; standing before him, perfectly presented on a soaking wet platter—he keeps his eyes trained on your face.

Shadows thicken over sensual bits, providing a shield between you and the male diligently applying soap to rag. Each drag of the slightly rough material against your skin releases a tension you hadn’t noticed you’d been carrying and all you can do is watch as he rids your skin of the thick film left behind when magic was used to clear away muck.

Eons must past before words are spoken, a this time Azriel is more intentional when he chooses them--more intimate when he relays them. "I'd always hoped for a mate. Ever since I was a boy and my mother told me stories about two halves scouring the world to finally become whole again." You're malleable under his care, pliant when he lifts your arms to scrub underneath and damn-near boneless when he turns you with slippery hands to slowly work the knots from your back. "I had always hoped that one day, I too, would find my equal." Azriel clears his throat, returning back from whatever memory he'd been sucked into but the massage doesn't stop; it only drags lower. "Then so much time had passed and I started to wonder if I couldn't find them because I wasn't being forward enough but that only lead to misplaced affections and unfulfillment."

"Azriel, I'm not sure if I really understand--"

"I felt something for you—something stronger than friendship but I pushed it away. I ignored it and looked elsewhere because I can bare not being as close with Mor and it’s as easy as breathing to never see Elain again but losing you—ruining the peace I feel when I’m with you would’ve broken me.”

Tears well in your eyes, a thickness welling in the back of your throat and your skin burns where his fingers touch, lingering near the dip of your back and just barely curling around the curve of your hips. “Az, you don’t have to say any of this to make me feel better. I just wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy.”

“Then, please don’t reject it.” His warmth ripples over every inch of you, your neck craning to make room for the forehead he helplessly drops in the crux of your shoulder. The perfect line of his nose drags along the curve of it, inhaling the soothing notes of your scent mixed with his body wash. “Don’t reject me—this is all I’ve ever wanted.” Finally his fingers curl around your hips, the grip gentle but oh, so claiming. “Can’t you feel it? This rightness.”

Raw emotion swims in the amber tones of Azriel’s eyes when you turn in his arms; searching within those rich shades to find any detection of a lie.

Not one reaches your radar.

The line of your vision drops, creeping down his nose until it fixates on the plush pink of his lips. Instinct takes over, offering a gentle nudge until the space between two is eaten up and breath becomes shared as a line was about to be crossed—a prophecy fulfilled.

When Azriel’s lips finally brush against yours, it’s like a coil snaps, unleashing an animal he hadn’t known existed. Sure, he had plenty of experience with childish crushes and boyish infatuation. But this, Cauldron, it nearly takes his breath away with its intensity—the burning desire that rips through his veins like a forrest fire.

One kiss bleeds into two hands desperate to acquaint themselves with your body until all that mattered was you, your spymaster and the sentient shadows protectively surrounding you both. “Azriel,” You all but keen in his ear, chest heaving and hips rolling into the hardness of him pressed against you.

“Mate.”

A whimper cuts through your throat, neck craning to make space for the perfect bruises he was sucking into the skin there. “I want you.”

“You have me,” He promises over the frantic beat of your heart, tongue laving over the soft fat of your breasts. “Even when my bones are rotting in the dirt, I’ll belong to you. My mate. Mine.”

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stvolanis · 6 months

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oh nothinggg, just thinking about Spooky x Bimbo! Reader

god, Spooky can’t stand you. always wearing those shorts—the ones that your ass cheeks hang out in. running around with your flimsy tube tops, nipples peeking through. Somehow being mixed into his brothers friend group, but not being involved in their messes. You were kinda just the friend they kept around cause your daddy sells weed to the people in Brentwood, so they got major discounts! but of course they loved you.

god, the amount of times he’s gotten a flash of the thin little hot pink thong straps you wear—or when you bend over to pick up something right in front of him; he thinks you’re doing it on purpose at this point! So he’s puzzled when you stand back up and whip around with an oblivious smile and innocent look in your eyes. He always has to do the thinking for you cause your silly brain can’t really comprehend what’s going on with the freakin roller world money your friends keep blabbering about that spooky wasn’t supposed to know about! Too bad, you already told him when you were mindlessly yapping about your day!

he would totally say something like, “didn’t know I was gettin a free show, baby.” After he walked in on your trying to shimmy off your skin tight, mid thigh dress. You blushed and weakly tried to shove him out of the room, only in your panties and matching bra. But it was like pushing a brick wall, and the way your clothed breasts pressed against him had him going crazy! So he felt like his body acted on its own when he grabbed the flesh of your ass with one hand, and your throat with the other.

He inhaled your scent, muttering a string of profanities in his mother tongue as he kissed the side of your jaw. “Been tempting me too much lately, cariño. M’only a man at the end of the day.” He breathed against you, watching the way your shorter body trembled under his touch. “I have needs. N’ it’s your job to take care of them like I always take care of you, ma.”

so of course as soon as he said that, his hand harshly pulled your bra down, exposing your breasts to him. He pinched one of your nipples, pulling it a little before releasing. Soon, your knees collided with the hard wood beneath you’d, and his cock was slapping against your cheek, leaving a trail of his sticky pre-cum. “S’right, niña. Put that pretty mouth to better use.” He smirked—that fucking smirk. The one that made you week in the knees.

You knew you were done for.

don’t be shy, ask to be a part of the tag list and request things!

TAG LIST: @elvisalltheway101 @epthedream69 @claire-elvisgirl @elvisrealgf @littlehoneyposts @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @luxuriouslokistan-3 @foxevxid @sapriao @xiyingly @jazminsjaz @likeits2002 @www-interludeshadow-com @khxna @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @hockeyrat @rafeswhorejjsslut @peterpan-neverfails @sunflowerskenz @lemonadygirl @newavenger @bloobewy

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cosmicschmidt · 10 months

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UNTIL I FOUND YOU

PART 2, PART 3

Coriolanus Snow x fem!Reader

Synopsis: When the 18 year old Coriolanus Snow recieves the news that he has to mentor a tribute in order to claim the Plinth Prize, he expected everything but not a shy girl from district 12 to claim his heart.

Word count: 2,4K

Warnings: Lucy Gray does not exsist in this (I´m sorry), some things might not fully add up to the movie plot ´cause I only saw it once and that was two days ago, use of Y/N, it´s implied that the reader is shorter than Coryo, small swearing, simple inhumane Hunger Games topics

Reblogs and requests are always welcomed <3 (just like pointing out grammatical mistakes :))

Coriolanus Snow did not mean for this to happen.

He did not intend to have this weird tingly feeling in his chest every time he caught a glimpse of her.

He did not mean to fall for his tribute from District 12.

As he patiently sat in his seat with his heart hammering in his chest due to not knowing if he´d receive the scholarship, adrenaline and excitement ran through his veins.

Yet, that was taken from him the moment Sejanus Plinth whispered to him that that certain day he looked forward to would not turn out as he hoped.

The Plinth Prize was won by the best mentor.

Each of them has to mentor a tribute and create the best version of them, create strategies and work on their behavior in the arena.

As all the tributes are presented, their names called alongside their mentors, Coriolanus´ hands start to sweat the longer he is not told who he has to work with.

The faces of his fellow students show different emotions, some cheer in happiness at their tributes state, others are laced with worry if their tribute even manages to walk straight.

"And last but not least, the girl from District 12, Coriolanus Snow."

His eyes shoot back to the small screen, his gaze falls to the name written underneath the short clip, Y/N L/N.

"I volunteer as tribute."

The screen shows a screaming girl, around the age of 11 as she trashes in the hold of someone else´s arms, desperately trying to escape their grasp to reach the other girl.

The other girl's face is slightly blurred due to the wide angle of the camera that is following her figure, but as the picture clears up, Coriolanus can´t help but suck in a breath.

A weird feeling boils in his chest that causes his heartbeat to pick up behind his ribcage, just as he thought it couldn´t get worse a few butterflies form in his stomach causing his white tunic to suddenly feel tighter. His hands go to the collar pulling a little on the fabric to calm his heartbeat.

The tribute from 12, stepped in for the younger girl and took her fate as her own. The girl, now known as Y/N doesn´t look back at the screaming girl, she takes small steps to the stage and steps on it the moment she reaches it.

Although her hands tremble beside her body, her eyes are stern and show no emotion, successfully keeping herself from spilling the dread that formed in her chest the moment her little sister's name was called.

"What a twist! Our first ever volunteer of 12, what an honor." the 12´s mayor speaks, yet no reaction falls from the crowd at his attempt to lighten the mood.

"I suppose that was your sister? Sweet little thing just turned 12, but luckily she has you as her big sister." Mayor Lipp tries to create small talk, but Y/N doesn´t seem to take interest in that, her eyes boring into the camera that is fixated on her face.

Everyone that surrounds Coriolanus watches intensely and waits for her next words.

Y/N´s jaw clenches a little as her gaze wanders over her district's citizens, some laugh at her situation, while others, alongside her family have tears in their eyes and hold a hand in front of their mouths to contain a sob from spilling past their lips.

Instead of words leaving her mouth, she does a mocking and overly dramatic bend forward with her arms stretched out on each side of her body.

Just as two Peacekeepers grab a hold of her arms and pull her off the stage she yells out,

"YOU CAN ALL SUCK I-" but her words muffle due to her being pulled away.

Meanwhile, everyone around Coriolanus starts to whisper.

Some voice behind him, "Who does she think she is?"

"Imagine having to work with that, guess who won´t win the Plinth Prize.." followed by laughing.

And more to his left, "The audacity, I´m telling you she´s the first to bleed out." followed by more remarks and chuckles.

Though Coriolanus can’t feel bothered by their remarks, as he watches her being dragged away from the stage with a stern look on her face.

The blonde watches with bewilderment yet with respect for her volunteering for someone else, a small smirk forming on his face as the side of his mouth pull up a little.

* ˚ ✦

Coriolanus´ gaze is fixated on the white rose in his palms, his eyes trail over each and every flaw he can spot.

Is it pretty enough?

Or is this gesture not normal in the relationship between a mentor and their tribute?

He wonders how you might react to this act of politeness, yet before he can keep up with his thoughts he´s pulled out of it when he hears the train near the train station.

There it is, it glides against the train racks before it comes to a harsh stop with a small screech, the blonde´s eyes trail over the different train carts, wondering where the certain girl from 12 is being kept.

At least a dozen armed Peacekeepers emerge from around the station, and the first cart´s handle is grabbed forcefully and shoved open, a small girl hesitantly jumps down to the ground, before she erupts into a few coughs as if she has to catch her breath from taking a run.

She´s followed by a tall boy who wears a expression he can´t read, although his brows are furrowed and a small line forms between them. The tall male´s eyes immediately find Coriolanus due to his bloody red outfit.

The male doesn´t seem to be the only one, almost everyone that already emerged from their part of the train has their eyes on him.

He fidgets with the rose again, a shiver running down his spine and all the way to his feet and then his toes.

As some tributes are escorted to the transporter outside, Coriolanus finally spots the male tribute from District 12, he remembers his name, Jessup. With a sigh of relief, he takes a few steps to him, and finally, his eyes spot the girl he so desperately tried to find the entire time.

Jessup´s hands are securely wrapped around her waist as he picks her up and helps her out of the train so she can steady herself. She smiles up at Jessup whispers a small ´thanks´ and pats him on his upper arm before she starts to take in all her surroundings.

Although their conversation is muffled, "Are you sure your neck is fine? The bite looks painful..."

Coriolanus´ breathing stops for a second, just now he notices that no camera ever will be able to take in all her beauty, his lips part a little and he can feel his mouth running dry.

Now that Y/N dusted her clothes off and had taken a look around the train station, her eyes move to her right and are met with piercing blue orbs. Although she acknowledged him, he couldn´t help but keep staring at her, the white rose in his left hand long forgotten as it rested next to his body. Confusion dawned on her face as she looked over to Jessup who offered the same expression.

The two of them share a look with a shrug before she turns her back to Coriolanus and starts to take a few steps away from him.

The blonde seems to snap out of it and with a small shake of his head and with two steps he keeps up with her smaller ones.

"Uhm- Welcome to the Capitol." he offers her a smile and holds the rose up for her to see.

Her mouth set in a hard line while her cheeks glowed a tad bit redder than before, "You don´t look like you should be here…?" she asked unsure, her eyes still trained up at his face before they fell on the flower in his hand - which slightly started to tremble -

"Uhm, I shouldn´t, my name is Coriolanus Snow, and I´m your mentor," he adds, the smile still coating his lips as he offers her the rose again.

"Mentor?" she laughs out in disbelief after she finally takes the flower out of his trembling hand and looks at it. Jessup is standing behind her, and his face still shows the same confusion it did earlier.

"Yeah, it´s my job to help you survive the arena," Coriolanus replies, the moment she took the rose out of his grasp his hand went limp and fell back to his side.

"And how exactly-" Y/N doesn´t get the opportunity to reply to his words before someone roughly pulls on her arm and drags her forcefully to the exit of the train station.

Peacekeepers decided to cut their conversation short, they pulled her with them like she weighed nothing, "I can walk by myself perfectly fine." she said loudly before she slapped the hand that was wrapped around her biceps off.

"Wait! I´m her Mentor!" Coriolanus speaks up, yet the distance between mentor and tribute is growing with each second, and the blonde picks up his steps in order to keep up with them.

A few shouts and orders are ringing through the air, the atmosphere filled with dread and an uncomfortable tension. Outside awaits a transporter for the tributes, and like pigs they are thrown and shoved into it, ready to be taken to the slaughterhouse.

The district 12 girl's eyes are trailing behind her trying to catch a glimpse of the red that coats her so-called ´mentor´, she can´t seem to see him but his shouts still reach her ringing ears.

A small hand wraps around her right hand startling the 17-year-old girl, but she quickly relaxes when she sees the small girl from District 8, Wovey. She seems scared by the loud noises, and Y/N offers her a small smile and squeeze of the hand in order to calm her down. Y/N spots a small seat at the back right corner and leads her over to it, there´s not enough space for the both of them, so she lets Wovey take it and stands beside her.

Coriolanus´ opportunity seems to flash in front of him for a split second as a tribute tries to make a run for it, the Peacekeepers running close behind, and with three steps the blonde leaps into the back of the transporter.

He runs all the way to the back of it, before he takes a few breaths trying to tame the adrenaline that shoots through his veins, his breathing calming down from the small thrill he felt.

He straightens down his clothes, and immediately spots Y/N, hand-in-hand with the little girl, her eyes holding awe, yet mostly confusion at why he just ran after her. "What are you doing here?" she whisper-yells, in order not to attract the Peacekeeper's attention.

He can´t help but draw his lower lip between his teeth, letting his actions sink in "Yeah who the hell are you?"

"Uhm-" he starts to speak up, as the other tributes´ eyes hold anger and confusion, most of them standing up and taking a few steps closer to him, cornering him a little. The red that radiates from his red clothes alerts the others.

"I suppose he´s my mentor." Y/N quickly speaks up, her voice cutting through the tension that started to build itself.

"What the hell is a mentor? And why did you get one but we didn´t?"

"Did she get one just because she was the first to volunteer?"

Y/N opens her mouth again to reply but Coriolanus beats her to it, "No, you all get a mentor, I promise the same chances are laid out for everyone." he says with a slightly raised voice so everyone hears his words.

A few unamused chuckles emerge from the ´crowd´ that formed around him, nevertheless a tall guy grabs him by the collar and slams Coriolanus back against the wall behind him pulling a gasp from his lips.

"Don´t shit talk us, what are you doing here?! Are you here to spy on us? What sick games did you plan?!" he yells in his face, although Coriolanus is taller than him, he raises his hands in surrender in order to calm the angry tribute.

Y/N sighs and softly drops Wolvey´s hand onto the girl's lap, she takes a step forward rests her hand on the tribute´s shoulder gently yet harshly, and pushes against him.

"You get your own mentor, now drop it," she says loudly, the tributes around them purse their lips and keep looking at Coriolanus like he´s some meal they can devour.

"A Capitol´s sweetheart could be helpful, why not kill him to send a fucking message." everyone around them agrees except for Y/N and a few in the back, them equally as terrified as Coriolanus.

Coriolanus laughs at their ´plan´ and breathes out a few pained breathes due to him being pressed against the wall, however, before anyone else gets the chance to speak up, the container they are kept in starts to shake a little and then does a jump that causes everyone to lose their balance. The tribute that held the blonde up against the wall let go of him, the everyone including Coriolanus hold onto the nearest thing they could find to steady themselves.

Y/N yelps at the sudden movement that throws her forward and grabs onto Coriolanus´ right arm, the boy in question sneaks his right arm around her waist to steady her and takes hold of a handle that sticks out of the metal wall.

With a rumble and another much harsher shake of the container, the doors suddenly swing open and the place they were kept in for the past 10 minutes moves upwards, changing the position from vertical to horizontal.

A few screams erupt from the group of tributes, and everyone starts to slide out like bags of flour. Y/N yelps again and tries to hold onto Coriolanus, he manages to hold both of their weights, but Y/N´s grip on him loosens when she wiggles in his grasp.

"Wait- Y/N hold on!" he hisses out, but Y/N moves in his grasp trying to get a hold of Wovey´s hand who´s close to sliding down as well.

"Grab my hand!" she yells, but Wovey slips away, and Y/N watches the little girl and Jessup move out of her view into the unknown.

Y/N removes herself from his grasp, just as Coriolanus can´t hold them up anymore due to the shaking wagon, and they all slide into whatever the Capitol planned for them.

I might consider writing a second part! I hope you enjoyed reading this <33

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #x reader #part 2?#fanfic #hunger games x reader #finnick odair x reader #peeta mellark x reader

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spicygrilledscorpio · 3 months

Text

Not a driver - Lando

Summary: Y/n asked Lando to try the sim out of boredom and well- let’s say it did not go as expected

Warning: SMUT, dom-ish!Lando, bratty!reader, cockwarming, toys, overstimulation, pet names (princess or sum), fingering, f!receiving, handcuffs (i think that’s it lemme know if i missed any)

Side note: This is my first fic ever so please be gentle🥺🫶🏻. English is also not my first language so sorry if anything sounds weird. Hopes you guys enjoy

———————————————————————————

Y/n settled in her place in the sim rig and started driving with Lando standing next to her watching. Well, for the record, despite her boyfriend driving for a living, y/n is a terrible driver. However, Lando doesn’t mind it at all, he is more than happy to take the wheel. Therefore, he is surprised when y/n asks him to try the sim.

“Fuck” she yells out of frustration, hitting the steering wheel after spinning out, again. While her beloved boyfriend laughs out loud.

“Why are you laughing” Y/n pouts, and turns around to look at Lando, who was standing behind her sim rig with arms around her neck. “I’m not” he smirks, leaning down to peck her lips.

After multiple attempts of trying to finish a lap and failed. “I give up” Y/n sighs “This is too hard, I hate driving”.

“Oh come on, lemme show you”. Lando guides y/n to stand up and take her seat. She was fully prepared to stand by and watch him when suddenly he took her hands.

“Come here baby” He pulled her onto his lap. Her back against his chest, he guides her hands on the wheel. Lando’s feet on the pedal while hers was dangling, since she was a lot shorter than him.

Y/n was wearing one of Lando’s oversized t-shirts with her panties underneath to deal with the torturous heat of summer in Monaco. She squirms in Lando’s lap trying to get comfortable, when Lando reaches out to stop her as she whines out quietly, but enough for him to hear.

“Ready?” Lando asks, placing his hands over hers, which were already on the steering wheel. His hands are significantly larger than hers, so it’s fair to say that her hand vanished from sight.

After a few laps of not crashing, thanks to her boyfriend, y/n attention starts to drift to her boyfriend’s hands. The way his hands look so much bigger than yours, the way the veins run through his hands or the ring he was wearing made her go feral. Y/n can’t help but squirm slightly against him to seek a release. However, Lando ignores her movements and keeps his eyes stuck to the screen.

Y/n tried to shift her attention back to driving, but the way her boyfriend kept squeezing her hands and placing kisses on her temple every once in a while drove her crazy. But it’s not until Lando shifts in his seat and practically thrusts onto her that y/n has her last straw.

“Landooo” Y/n whines as she removes her hands from the steering wheel to turn around and straddle him.

“What’s wrong princess? I thought you wanted to try the sim” He answered in a teasing tone and chuckled slightly at her action.

Y/n didn’t reply but let out a loud whine and groan as she nuzzled her face into Lando’s neck. Desperately grinding on his bulge, feeling it getting harder and harder. Lando’s hand let go of the steering wheel to steady her hip, stopping her from moving.

“Princess, look at me” He demands with a low-toned voice, the one that she always goes crazy for.

Lando’s one hand holding her face, moving it away from the crook of his neck, the other one found its way to her butt and kneading it. Y/n’s eyes lazily look into his while still laying her head on his shoulder with a pout on her face.

“What do you want, hmm?”

“You know what I want” Y/n whines out, hiding her flushed cheek into his neck, again.

“No, look at me sweetie, use your words” He pulled out that harsh, low-toned voice again.

“Need you, Lan” She looked at him with those puppy eyes, knowing for sure he wouldn’t be able to say no to her. Y/n squirms, grinding her clothed pussy against his now more visible hard bulge.

“How bad?” he teases. Y/n groans, hitting his chest with her palm. “Patient” he demands

“Take these off” Hands pulled her pantie lace and let it snap against her skin

Y/n shuffles in his lap to take it off and place it in Lando’s hand, then he shoves it in his pocket. She struggles to unlock his belt but manages to do it anyway, then rushes to unzip his pants and pull down his boxer. All the while Lando just leaned back onto the seat and watched her struggle and let out a chuckle seeing how impatient his girlfriend was.

“Lando-“ she gasps sinking into him slowly, afraid to get hurt since he’s really big compared to her. When suddenly he pulled her down onto him roughly, making tears well up in her eyes from the sudden stretch.

After a little while of getting used to his size, y/n starts bouncing onto him, or did she think so? Lando suddenly holds her down, stopping her movements. Y/n lets out a whine and stares at him in confusion.

“Now, you’re going to be a good girl and keep me warm while I do some laps” he stops mid-sentence to look down at her, who looks like she’s about to cry out from frustration. “Is that ok princess? Can you do that for me”.

Y/n nodded slightly. As much as y/n wants to say no, she knows that if she just behaves for him, the rewards she gets after this torture ends will be worth it.

“Yeah? That’s my good girl”

After about 10-20 minutes of torment and Lando has no sign of shutting down the sim to take care of her, y/n begins to get impatient and starts squirming, clenching harder to ask for her boyfriend’s attention. Lando hisses but pays no attention to his now very, very needy girlfriend. Not getting what she wants, y/n starts grinding down harder and eventually starts bouncing on him.

“Behave,” Lando says, still very much not giving her the attention she wanted.

Still, y/n ignores him and bounces even faster. Not holding back anymore decided to get herself off. Lando, suprisingly, doesn’t stop her and Y/n takes this as approval. Y/n keeps chasing her high as her boyfriend does nothing but lean back, hands folded behind his head with a smirk on his face, staring at Y/n’s face as she comes close to her orgasm.

Just when she was about to cum, Lando stopped her. Out of confusion and frustration, Y/n whines out loud, frowning at her boyfriend, while he’s grinning.

“Didn’t say you could get yourself off, did I?” he questions in a teasing tone.

“But-“ A tear rolls down from her eyes from being denied her orgasm.

“Brat,” Lando said as he reached out to wipe her tears away.

He stood up suddenly and Y/n squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck, afraid of falling. Lando carries her to their bedroom and throws her gently on the bed.

“What am I gonna do with this brat hm?”

“Please Lan, I’ll be good, I promise” Y/n begs, hoping her boyfriend would give in

“Oh? Then why did you get yourself off without my permission hm, brat?” he questions, as he reaches out to the drawer in the nightstand and pulls out a handcuff and a vibrator. Lando cuffs y/n onto their bed’s headboard while she tries to wriggle. “Stop or you’ll hurt yourself,” Lando said sternly, y/n pouting in return.

Lando has been teasing Y/n with the vibrator for more than an hour, edging her through multiple orgasms that now both of them lost count of.

“I can’t take it anymore” She lets out a shaky breath as her body trembles, tears staining her flushed face. Tries to close her legs but fails, again, with her boyfriend settling between them. Lando moves the vibrator onto her puffy clit from being overstimulated, while his fingers thrust in and out of her at a pace that she feels like she can pass out at every given moment. The wet sounds of her arousal being slapped against her skin over and over made Y/n blush as she hid her face in the pillow.

“Don’t be shy now princess, I thought you wanted to cum”. He said with a smirk on his face that she wanted to wipe off so badly.

“Just one more, ok? Can you do that for me baby?” he asks knowing that he’s gonna pull one out of her regardless of what her answer will be. Y/n has no choice but to nod, and that’s not the first time he promised that her next orgasm is going to be “the last one”.

As he feels her pussy clenching harder around his fingers, Lando moves faster and turns the vibrator to its highest setting, helping his girlfriend to chase her orgasm. Finally, y/n spasms down onto his fingers and squeezes her eyes shut as she cries out loud. Lando doesn’t stop thrusting and helps her ride out of her orgasm.

“No more” Y/n shakes her head as she whimpers, tears rolling down all over her face.

“I know sweetheart, I know” Lando whispers as he removes his fingers from her, peppering kisses all over her face. Moved to uncuff her wrist and place kisses onto both of her red wrists from her wriggling from before. Y/n’s hands immediately move to wrap around his neck, pulling him down to cuddle with her.

Y/n drifts to sleep after just a little while of cuddling from the tiredness from all the overstimulation before. Lando moves away from her grips and replaces himself with a pillow gently since the last thing he wants would be to wake her up.

He grabs a warm towel to clean her up, parting Y/n’s legs gently and cleaning her up. Y/n let out a whine when the cloth touched her sensitive clit as Lando shushes her. “Go back to sleep, baby”

Lando quickly throws the towel away and settles on the bed beside y/n. They cuddled up and y/n nuzzled in Lando’s chest.

“You didn’t get to cum” Y/n mumbled in a low volume but enough for Lando to hear.

“Go to sleep princess, we’ll deal with that tomorrow”

#lando norris #smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norizz #f1 x you #fanfic #lando imagine #lando x you #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 x y/n

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lcvemiyuki · 4 months

Text

“when they get jealous” | hq

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓊝 ࿐𓂃𓂃𓂃

content: haikyuu boys x reader, when they get jealous over someone else

warnings: disgustingly cute, kenma x reader + tsukishima x reader are established relationships, fem!reader, osamu x reader (y/n is perceived as shorter than osamu)

characters: kenma, tsukishima, osamu

a/n: more! bc these also have been stuck in my head... (not proofread sorry!)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Kozume Kenma

'he would get distracted to the point of jeopardizing a game'

It was a weekend afternoon, and Kenma had carved out some precious time to play solos in the gaming room. His specialty was first-person shooter games, and he stayed absolutely silent to focus; a pin drop could be heard from how quiet it was. Only the sounds of his game controller clicking resonated softly in the soundproof room.

You two shared the room, with back-to-back monitors and a personalized setup on each side. Occasionally, you would enter and play a game or two, leaving when you knew he had a stream scheduled.

Today was one of those quiet days, with Kenma fully immersed in his game. His noise-canceling headphones ensured nothing but the game’s audio reached his ears.

You entered the room, aware of his headphones, and left rabbit-cut apple slices next to his keyboard. The colors from his monitor illuminated the slices, casting a soft glow on them as his slender fingers worked like a well-oiled machine.

As you moved, your figure momentarily blocked his sight, and he glimpsed you holding a phone to your ear, a smile plastered on your face as you talked. Kenma's eyes lingered on you for a few seconds before his monitor demanded his attention again. Usually, you would make some sort of light contact to remind him you were there, a gentle touch or a pat on the shoulder.

But this time, you didn’t.

Instead, you turned to your side and plopped down on the plush chair, fully engrossed in your conversation. Kenma wasn't overly nosy, but he couldn’t help but peek out from the side of his monitor to observe you.

‘Who has your attention?’ he wondered.

Knowing he couldn't keep glancing your way without compromising his game, Kenma adjusted his headphones so that only one side covered his ear, leaving the other exposed to the outside world.

Kenma's focus split in half; he tried to concentrate on his game, yet every time he heard your wholehearted laugh, his eyes darted to you instantly. Your joy was infectious, and it pulled at his curiosity with an unfamiliar force.

“Tomorrow? Yeah, that sounds great!” Your voice rang out, clear and cheerful. Kenma's brows furrowed as he strained to make out more of your conversation. His concentration slowly dissipated, the multiple noises becoming a chaotic blend in his mind.

“I can’t wait to see you!” Your exclamation, followed by another giggle, broke his focus entirely. He turned his head fully for just two seconds, enough time for his character on screen to be targeted and shot.

The screen flashed red with ‘GAME OVER’ in bold letters.

Kenma's eyes did a double take as the realization hit—he had gotten distracted a bit too long.

He never lost a game—ever.

He yanked the headphones off, letting them hang around his neck as he leaned back in his chair. A long sigh heaved out, his worn-out hands finding their way behind his head as his legs spread apart for a more comfortable position.

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later, bro. Tell Mom I can’t wait to see you guys!” Now free from his game’s immersive audio, Kenma heard you loud and clear. His eyes squeezed shut, feeling a twinge of annoyance at himself for getting so distracted.

That really cost him a game—yet he couldn't help but feel his heart rate slow down after realizing you were just talking to your brother.

Lost in his thoughts, Kenma didn’t hear you approach until he felt the soft, slightly wet touch of your lips pecking his. His eyes slowly fluttered open to find you staring down at him with a confused look.

“You lost, Kozu?” Your eyes now drifted to his monitor.

He could only softly scoff at himself, a mix of embarrassment and amusement in his tone. “Yeah, I guess I did.” His lips pursed together, noting the twinge of sweetness they tasted.

He would never tell you the real reason, though.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

Kei Tsukishima

'his smile looks indifferent, yet his eyes shot daggers'

The sound of someone’s cough echoed through the museum as you and Tsukishima passed through another grand exhibit. The exhibits grew slightly crowded at times, prompting you to lightly grasp the edge of his coat, careful not to fully grab him. His strides were slightly faster than yours granted his slight eagerness. Tsukishima turned his head, peering down at your hand clutching his clothes.

“Is this your way of trying to keep up?” His light eyebrows raised slightly in amusement before he reached back, taking hold of your hand to guide you instead.

“Excuse me!” a slightly loud voice echoed in the room, causing you to close your mouth before you could respond. You turned to face the source of the shout, only to find a young man staring right at you.

Tsukishima halted with you, turning his head around with a hint of annoyance at whoever was shouting.

“Do people not know when to lower their voices?” he muttered, his voice laced with irritation. As he was about to finish his sentence, he noticed the man making his way toward you specifically. Tsukishima didn’t miss the way the man’s eyes were solely focused on you.

Turning his attention to you, Tsukishima also noticed how your squinting eyes suddenly morphed into one of pure surprise.

“Y/N? Is that really you!?” the man exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.

As the man launched into an animated recount of his recent adventures, Tsukishima stood by, feeling a pang of irritation.

Soon enough, a few others caught up to your classmate. Tsukishima couldn't miss the way it took them a few seconds to avert their eyes or the eager way they held out their hands to shake yours.

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, ‘How shameless.’

“This is my—” you began to introduce Tsukki, but he beat you to it, turning fully to face the group. “I’m the boyfriend.” His smile was anything but genuine.

His tone might have been friendly, but you could tell Tsukki was irritated.

Quickly realizing he might be upset about the abrupt interruption of your date, you hastily said your goodbyes to your old high school friend.

“Aw, c’mon Y/N, how about a reunion selfie before we let you go?” your old classmate nudged, pointing at the phone he was holding.

You awkwardly laughed, trying to think of a way to politely decline. But before you could say no, you felt a gentle but firm pressure on the small of your back, guiding you forward. You turned to see Tsukishima's long fingers splayed out against your back, his touch insistent. The action caused you to straighten up in response, feeling the solid reassurance of his hand.

You quickly took the selfie with your old classmate, offering a polite smile for the camera. Before you could say another brief goodbye, you noticed the three guys in the back all staring in your direction, only to quickly avert their gaze to some random object in the building.

Curious about what had caught their attention, you turned your head to follow their line of sight. Your heart began to race as you saw the reason for their sudden shift in focus.

Tsukishima, now several meters away, was turned slightly to the side, but his eyes were locked onto the guy next to you. His usual could-care-less demeanor was replaced with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Tsukishima's glare was menacing as if silently placing a bounty on his head. His hands were comfortably placed in his pockets; his black glasses failed to mask the daggers he shot their way.

There was no mistaking it—he was jealous, and not just mildly so.

You quickly excused yourself, murmuring a final goodbye to your old classmate. You made your way over to Tsukishima, your steps quickening with each passing second.

As you reached him, you hesitated for a moment before gently placing a hand on his arm. His eyes flicked to yours, then quickly shifted away, focusing on anything but you.

“Tsukki,” you said softly, “Sorry that took so long.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, his tone begrudgingly agreeing.

“Were their stares bothering you?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light.

Tsukishima’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“They were just...annoying,” he said, his voice clipped. “Like, read the room.”

A mischievous smirk played on your face as you interlocked your hand with his. “Is that why you were death-staring them like they were your sworn enemies?”

“Obviously. Anyone would with how noisy they were,” he replied, trying to sound indifferent.

He would never admit to it, but you could read him all too well.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

Miya Osamu

'wouldn't care if a purchase or two gets put on the line'

One day, Atsumu, his doting twin brother, waltzes into the semi-busy shop with open arms.

“Take a whiff, boys—the infamous Miya blood mixes with success,” he says smugly.

Osamu doesn't even welcome them once he sees who it is—he simply deadpans and shoves the curtains to go in the back.

With a bright smile that reaches your eyes, you quickly greet the customers. The two unfamiliar gentlemen behind Atsumu had a muscular and tall build—likely hungry athletes in need of rewarding food.

‘Time to sell the whole shop,’ you think with determination.

Although you weren’t an official employee at Onigiri Miya, you wanted to help Osamu as much as you could. That included selling his delicious food to hungry customers.

You devise a quick game plan and target the first tall guy, hastily approaching him. His eyebrows are furrowed slightly as he examines the menu, trying to decide what to eat.

“Hi there! If you’re looking for something delicious, you can’t go wrong with our classic tuna mayo onigiri,” you suggest cheerfully, your enthusiasm catching his attention.

The tall guy’s face lights up at your recommendation. “That sounds perfect, thanks!” he says, his serious expression softening.

Just as you’re about to show him another flavor, Osamu suddenly walks directly between you and the customer, almost bumping into you. “You should try the natto,” he says, grabbing a natto onigiri from the display, his tone a bit sharper than usual.

The customer looks a bit taken aback, clearly put off by the sudden change. “Uh, I’m not sure about natto…” he says hesitantly.

You frown slightly, trying to salvage the situation. “Well, we have plenty of other options too—how about the umeboshi?” you suggest, stepping around Osamu to point at another onigiri.

Osamu, however, doesn’t move, effectively blocking your view. “Natto’s a specialty here. You should give it a shot,” he insists, practically shoving the onigiri into the customer’s hand, his eyes darting briefly to you and then back to the customer.

The customer looks uncomfortable, but Atsumu, ever the opportunist, steps in with a grin. “Look at ya, ‘Samu. Can’t stand to see Y/N sellin’ your onigiri to my pal, huh?” he teases, clearly enjoying the situation.

Osamu’s scowl deepens as he grabs an onigiri from the counter. “Shut up, ‘Tsumu,” he mutters before stuffing the onigiri into his brother’s mouth, effectively muffling his cackle.

Atsumu’s eyes widen in surprise, slightly coughing from practically choking on a rice ball.

Trying to pretend the twins weren’t going at it, mouthing silent threats to each other on each side of you two, you try to make a pitch once again.

“I hope you try out all, but it’s up to you!” you quickly put all three into the man’s hands and in doing so, your hand encloses them and gives it a slight pat.

The shuffling stops as you feel two holes being burned into the back of your head.

You could hear a soft chuckle as Osamu's large hands suddenly and slightly encircled your neck from behind. His weight leaned lightly against you as he crouched down a bit to join the conversation.

"Y/N's putting in quite the effort to sell you these, man. I'd say take them and enjoy," he remarked, his face close enough to yours that you could almost feel his breath against your ear.

With a subtle maneuver, you sidestep out of his grasp and guide the customer towards the register; the mess the very owner put you through just to sell these damn onigiris. You mentally roll your eyes as Atsumu continues to tease Osamu in the background.

As soon as the trio of athletes bid the shop goodbye, the door chiming softly behind them, your attention soon fell on Osamu.

You could feel a slight tension in the atmosphere, the remnants of the earlier exchange still hanging in the air. Osamu stood behind the counter, his back turned to you as he methodically rearranged the onigiri displays. His movements were precise, almost mechanical as if he were trying to distract himself from the task at hand.

"Why the face, Y/N?" Osamu feigned confusion as he went around the stalls to continue his organizing.

You stood by the register with your arms crossed, eyebrows raised in amused disbelief. "Oh, really," you began, "I mean, I get Atsumu—you guys always go at it—but that guy was just like any other customer, 'Samu."

Osamu paused in his task, his expression shifting into a thoughtful gaze as if pondering something. His fingers tapped absentmindedly on the counter before he finally met your gaze. "Yeah, but there's always something more to it," he said cryptically, a faint smile playing on his lips.

You tilted your head, intrigued by his response. "More to what?"

He chuckled softly, a glint of something indescribable in his eyes. "More to everything," he replied enigmatically, leaving you with a curious smile as he continued to work around the shop. His words lingered in the air.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

want more?

⤷ masterlist.

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