#long nosed whip snake

[superserpentsmackdown]

[colorsoutofearth]

Long nosed Whip Snake (Ahaetulla prasina)

Photo by Tony Heald

[kirexa]

JUST LITTLE BABIES!!!!!!

Look at them

THEYRE GREEN BEANS

[queenie-the-court-jester]

an unhealthy obsession

Online boyfriend x afab!reader

A/n: this was rushed, sorry y'all 😞🌺

tw: noncon, drugging, somnophilia, identity fraud, mentioned cheating, online relationship, kidnapping, mention of masturbation

💉you met Xavier exactly a year and a half ago. A friend Introduced you, with you both quickly hitting it off. He was so charismatic and friendly! He made you feel good inside. Becoming mutuals, you were chatting everyday. (After confirming he was a real person and who he said he was)

💊 but little did you know he was lying about everything. All the pictures he sent? Edited. His calls and voice recordings? Distorted to where you can't recognize it. He was highly insecure, thinking that if you knew who he really was you'd turn your nose in disgust

💉he wasn't actually Xavier. He was an ex boyfriend you used to have in highschool, freshman year. You knew most relationships at that age never lasted long, but you couldn't help and feel hurt when you walked in on him messing around with some girl. You forgot his name...

💊 he regretted what he did. He really did! But he knew you wouldn't give him another chance so easily. So he was left to pretend to be someone else, just to hear your laugh. See your face through pictures. He couldn't get you out of his head! His parents were never there for him, but you were. You were always there. Loving and coddling him. He'd be damned to let that go so easily

💉it took a while to get your friend to introduce him, and every bone in his body to not jump and squeal in joy when you both finally "met". But now that you've been dating for a while, you want to meet up.. that's not good. He can keep making excuses for so long until you get tired

💊 so he does anything to pacify you. Sending you money, gifts, flowers. All while stroking himself to hearing your excited rambles on call. How many times has he shamelessly masturbated to your voice? He couldn't count. You were just too sexy!

💉 his resolve lasted only 5 more months until he finally agreed to meet you. His heart beating with anxiety as he waited in the cafe. Wearing sunglasses, a facemask and a hoodie. Brushing it off as him being shy you sat next to him and quickly started talking. As if you weren't uneasy by his (lack of) appearance. God how he adored you.

💊 you went on multiple dates after that, trying to convince him to take off the mask and glasses but he was stubborn. 'Till he got a grand idea. Inviting you to his house was the biggest blessing for him, and the biggest nightmare for you. Setting up a fancy dinner in his living room, whipping up your favorite dish and drink. Crushing fertility and sleeping pills in the food

💉clueless you trusted him blindly, giving him a kiss on the cheek and smiling fondly at the romantic setting. He pulled out a chair for you to sit down, and pushed it back in once you did. Still wearing his glasses and face mask, but at this point you didn't mind it as much

💊 he watched you eat quietly, chit chatting as he could feel all the blood rush to his cock in anticipation of his dubious plan. You started to feel drowsy and apologized halfway to finishing your food, your cup empty as you went to the sofa and fell ontop of it. Barely conscious

💉he grinned, taking off his glasses and mask, picking you up easily and shakily Snaking a hand down to tug off your clothes. worming his tongue in-between your lips, Hungrily lapping at your saliva while plopping you onto the bed.

💊 he ripped off his shirt, grabbing a bottle of lube and shoving the tip into your hole. Squirting it inside as he teased your genitals. Pulling the bottle away, he quickly replaced it with his dick's tip. Shoving it in and letting out a satisfied groan, bottoming out inside your slippery insides.

💉 he wasted no time In pounding into you, holding your hips flushed against his as he was determined to breed your tight pussy. Bending down a bit to suckle on your breasts, biting and nibbling anywhere he could reach. He went all night, until he physically couldn't give you anymore of his sperm.

💊 flopping ontop of you, he kissed your unconscious form tenderly, caressing your tummy with a loving smile. When you'd wake up, you'd definitely remember your ex boyfriend, Damien.

"so pretty.. now you can't leave me, because soon We'll have a baby on the way~ you wouldn't mind living in the forest where no one can find you right? Hah, ofcourse you don't.."

[ashtavula]

Hello could I maybe request the overbloters having accidentally hurt their S/o during their overblot? If not that’s fine I just wanted to ask.

cw: descriptions of injuries and blood, spoilers for the overblots

The overblotters accidentally hurt their s/o

Riddle:

-You try to avoid the massive rose tree that Riddle hurls your way, but you're just a bit too slow. The tree hits you, and you cry out as the thorns slice you open. Ace and Deuce try to help you out, and they manage to yank you out from underneath the sharp limbs. Blood drips from the cuts on your limbs, and you collapse as Riddle's overblot comes to an end.

-As soon as Riddle sees you, his tears intensify, and he begs for people to help you. In the days after that, Riddle insists on tending to your injuries. He looks guilty as he helps change your bandages, and he's insistent that you take your painkillers on time. It'll take him a long time to forgive himself for hurting you, even if it was an accident.

Leona:

-The sand being whipped around by the wind makes it difficult to see, and you get a little too close to Leona. He grabs your arm, and you yelp as his claws dig into your skin. Jack is able to distract Leona, and you break away, cradling your bleeding arm.

-Once it's all over, Leona's sharp nose picks up on the smell of blood. He storms over to you, and he tears a strip of fabric from his shirt. He presses it to your skin, trying to stop the bleeding as he barks for the others to find a medic. While you recover, Leona looks irritated by the sight of the bandages, but you know that he's just angry at himself for hurting you. And when you settle down next to him for your daily cuddles, he'll treat you like you're made of glass.

Azul:

-You knew Azul was stronger than he looked, but you never thought that you'd be on the receiving end of his tentacles. He effortlessly swats you aside, and you slam against a wall. Your head spins, and you can already tell that you've broken your arm. You curl up into a ball, choking back sobs as Leona and the others get Azul to stop his rampage.

-Azul is horrified when he realizes what happened. You see the color drain out of his face, and he lifts you up to carry you to the infirmary himself. For the next few weeks, Azul is your personal servant. Simply tell him what you want, and he's scrambling to get it for you. He feels awful about hurting you, and he's always fretting over your cast.

Jamil:

Vil:

-You gasp as you see Jamil approaching you and Kalim with a murderous look in his eyes. You quickly shove Kalim away, hoping to get him out of range of Jamil. The snakes that have replaced his hair dart towards you, and their fangs sink into your arm. Almost instantly, a blinding surge of agony shoots up your arm. You collapse to your knees, and pass out from the pain.

-You awaken a few hours later, dizzy and nauseated. You vaguely realize that you're laying down in Jamil's bed, and that he's laying down beside you. You squirm, and Jamil lifts his head. He immediately scolds you for getting too close to him during his overblot. Yet, as he lectures you, his hands check you for a fever, and he gives you medicine to help with the effects of the snake venom that's wreaking havoc on your body. As you close your eyes, still exhausted, you feel his lips press against your forehead, and he mumbles out an apology against your skin.

-Your eyes water as you accidentally breathe in some of Vil's poison. Your nose and throat start to burn, and you start tasting something metallic. Within a few moments, you're coughing up blood and struggling to get enough oxygen. You have to lean against Epel as you gasp for air, blood starting to drip from your nose.

-You faint as Vil stops overblotting, but you awaken a few minutes later to see Malleus staring down at you with his brows furrowed. You barely get the chance to open your mouth before Vil is yanking you into a tight embrace. You can feel his hands shake as he mumbles out apologies and promises to never hurt you again. Malleus may have helped you overcome the effects of the poison, but that doesn't stop Vil from fussing over you. As he insists on checking your throat for the fourth time that day, just remind yourself that he's doing it because he loves you.

Idia:

-The ground shakes, and you fail to see the piece of debris that falls from the ceiling. It hits your shoulder, and you scream as the joint is dislocated. Rook is able to quickly knot the Pomefiore uniform's long sleeves around you to form a makeshift sling, but it's a struggle to hold back the tears of pain.

-It takes a moment for Idia to realize what's wrong, but he nearly has a meltdown when he does. He's immediately rushing you off to Styx's medical professionals, leaving everyone else in the dust. He's trying to apologize to you the entire time as the doctors put your arm in a splint, but he's stuttering over his words so badly that you can barely understand them. Once you're back at NRC, Idia keeps you practically locked up in his room as you recover. Despite keeping you with him, Idia is even more hesitant to touch you, out of fear of hurting you further.

Malleus:

-Malleus' magic washes over you, and your eyes slide closed as you're forced into a dream. Unfortunately, you hit your head on the edge of a table as you fall over, and Malleus doesn't notice. While traversing the dream worlds, you keep feeling this faint ache in your head, but you brush it off.

-However, you immediately groan in pain, and cradle your head in your hands when you wake up. The distant ache in the dreams blossoms into a stabbing migraine, and the world spins around you. Malleus quickly takes notice, and he cradles you in his embrace as he worriedly asks you what's wrong. You feel the brief pull of his magic, and the agony subsides. His lips press against the side of your head, and he croons out apologies for not keeping a better eye on you. For the next few days, you have a draconic shadow that refuses to leave you alone, and thinks that copious amounts of ice cream will make you feel better after your "terrible injury."

[aennasan]

There is a reason why Kenji Sato stays hole up in his room whenever he is sick.

It wasn't because he is too sick to move around and take care of himself. If that happens, Mina would have taken care of him in a pod, where he could rest for the whole day, and feel better the next day.

It wasn't because he hates being seen as weak either. The idea of being seen at his most vulnerable may have brought a pink hue on his cheeks but it didn't bother him as much. He is sick after all. There is nothing wrong with that.

What bothers him is the fact that he could be a bit….er….. clingy. When he is feeling under the weather, the constant warmth of someone is very comforting to him.

Actually, a bit clingy may be an understatement.

When Mina informed you that Kenji cannot meet you for the day because he is not feeling well, it worried you so much, especially, when Mina insisted that he would be alright and she would take care of him.

Although Mina is an amazing help, how could you just sit back, and wait for him to get better without checking up on him, or lending a hand to take care of your own boyfriend.

Mina was insistent that you shouldn't. But you refused to back down, so against her better judgment, she let you in, with a reminder and an ominous warning; “I wish you goodluck.”

The moment you stepped foot out of work, you made your way to his house, and it broke your heart to see him bundled up, and sleeping under the covers. His shivers were so intense, that even if he is hiding beneath a bunch of fluff, you can see the tremors above.

“Kenji, I am here. Do you need anything?” You softly called out to him, and patted the area, where you thought he would have his head.

After hearing your voice, his tremors stopped… for a moment. He whipped his head out of the covers with renewed vigor, eyes wide, nose red, his whole face is pale with sickness.

You almost fell backwards when he suddenly hugged your torso and nestled his head on your stomach. You shivered at the sudden shift of temperature, feeling the heat boiling out of his skin, goosebumps forming on the part of your body he touched.

“How are you? Feeling better?” You asked. Voice laced with concern and worry. He didn't reply, instead he just shook his head like a kid. You put your hand on his forehead to check his fever, and you don't need a thermometer to know that even if it was midday now, his fever hasn't gone down.

“I’ve brought some porridge. Let me put them in a bowl so you could eat. Mina told me that you refused to eat anything. That is not good, you need food to have energy, and for the medicine to work.”

Removing his arms tightly hugging you, you scold him softly, and leave a kiss on his forehead before putting a plaster of kool fever, to help with his high temperature. You heard him cooed at the coolness, and watch as he closes his eyes, as you help him tucked back on his bed. His head resting comfortably on his pillows. You left his room, and made sure to close his door softly, before heading towards his kitchen, and put the food you bought in the microwave to heat it up.

Even outside his room, the air is thickened with the heady smell of sickness. Usually, Kenji would play even if he was sick. However, with the gloomy atmosphere of his house, and the minimal lights opened. You are sure that he never even set foot out of his room, for anything. You tapped your finger on the counter, as you watched the red blinking number countdown. You were in deep thought worrying over Kenji, that you didn't see the shadow looming behind you, the quiet steps he took as he approached you.

You let out a scream of bloody murders when an army suddenly snaked around your waist. His face resting at the crook of your neck. His arms tighten up, whenever you try to move or do anything, refusing to let you go.

“Kenji? Oh god! You scared me! What are you doing here?

“You're taking too long.” He replied. Voice muffled because he still refuses to remove his face, nestling on your neck.

“Too long? I'm just heating up your food for five minutes. I will be back soon.” You convince him, as you try to remove his arms around you. Feeling uncomfortable with his high body heat, racked with fever. He is still way too strong for someone who is sick.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” He repeated. And you admit a bunch of question marks were forming on your head.

What exactly is going on? Also…Where is Mina? She is awfully quiet. She didn't even inform you about Kenji walking towards you.

Kenji Sato. Your boyfriend. Refuses to leave or move or let go of you, no matter how much you begged him too. He would even tsk or let out noises of disapproval whenever you try to do something to outsmart him.

So in the end, you just make yourself comfortable while he snuggle and hug your arm. His head resting on your chest.

“Kenji, what if I get sick too because you are way too close to me.”

“I’ll take care of you. And snuggle with you too.”

You are trying your best not to let out an exasperated sigh. No one told you that Kenji could be so clingy whenever he feels sick and vulnerable.

It got to the point that even if you excuse yourself going to the bathroom, he would throw a tantrum and cry, if you don't allow him in and allow him to hold your hand to do your business. The second time he refuses to let you go, you scolded him for a bit, which made him let you go alone, although reluctantly. You watch as he just sits there by the door, looking so sad and lonely, that guilt gnaws in your chest.

He looks like a kicked puppy, more than his usual wolfish demeanor and persona, which seeks to be always on the top.

After some time, Kenji finally slept like a log. The fever finally went down. You let out a sigh of relief and did your best not to make a sound so as to not wake him up.

You have learned your lesson when you woke him up earlier. You were greeted by a disgruntled Kenji, scowling, and full of distrust. He would close his eyes but the moment he realizes he did, he will shoot awake and scowl at you with a pout. Asking if you moved. Even if you say no, he will just glare at you.

It was like playing a game you will never ever win so you just sat there, holding his hand tightly, patting his side, humming a melody, to make him feel relaxed and finally sleep.

You thank all the gods when you pull your hand from his hold, and all he does is grumbles a bit before turning, and continues sleeping.

You tiptoed walking towards outside his room, making sure that you will not make any noise, as you slowly close his door. You were in bated breath as you carefully walked backwards away from his door, counted to ten, and cried tears of joy when no angry Kenji went out to lash out at your disappearance.

You almost had a heart attack when the moment you turned, Mina was in front of you.

“Mina, you-”

“I wished you good luck. I even told you not to go.” The AI replied with a sound followed by a shrug.

You're probably just so tired and drained that you have no energy to argue, and you even thanked her for preparing a meal and a hot bath for you as an apology.

Although, a sick Kenji is a pain in the ass, you admit he looks kind of cute and adorable, pouting and clingy like that. You just hope that when he does that next time, it wasn't because he was sick.

You can't take cute photos of a sick Kenji Sato, right?

[irishmammonagenda]

"So the rumours are true...well 'tis an honour, a great one at that; to have met the most fabled human of the the Devildom." The demon comes up to you, his horns glistening in the light of Diavolo's royal ballroom. You swallow the cupcake you had stuffed into your mouth like a squirrel moments prior, wiping the icing on the lace of your dress, pretending like you didn't see the demon's nose twitch at that action.

"Oh uh-yeah..." You nod, before deciding to be fancier. "Alas, 'tis I, MC" You say, being forced to learn Shakespeare really paid off.

The noble nods, his hand snaking around your waist, he smiles, showing sharp fangs "Pray tell, how did you manage to make pacts with the most powerful demons?...Forgive my nosiness, but rumour has it-"

You tilt you head, something stirring in your gut. "Rumour has what?"

"Rumour has it you managed to seduce them." The demon's eyes gleam. You don't have to be Asmodeus to feel the lust radiating of this man. Eugh.

"Oh! Well-" You begin feeling uncomfortable under his predatory gaze.

The demon smirks, "-Well, I would love to see what you've got-"

A deep chuckle sounds from behind the Noble, a dark, jewel-adorned hand places itself on his shoulder, the demon stills at the sight of the Prince.

Diavolo smiles a strained smile, golden eyes flashing with a fury that would send tsunamis ashore in the Human Realm.

"M-my Prince." He bows suddenly. Diavolo crosses his arms, speaking something in a language long dead. The demon's face completely pales, and he scurries off like a rat in the night.

Diavolo wraps a comforting arm around you, "Are you okay, MC?" His eyes soften as he examines your form." You lean into him.

The dragon in him preens.

Nodding you reply, "Mhm! I'm okay! He was really weird though....like I thought he'd whip out a Mikasa bodypillow. Bro had no rizz whatsoever."

Diavolo chuckles, pinching your cheek in his confusion. "Oh your human world slang.....would you care for a dance?"

You grin, nodding.

And so you move to the centre of the ballroom, Diavolo's arm almost stained into the small of your back as you glide alone the marble floors.

The Demon Prince finds himself glaring at any bystander who's eyes wrack up and down your frame for too long. He gives them a silent warning. Marking you as taken. Marking you as his.

Even if you didn't know it yet. :)

[heizlut]

here for the specific kink event hehe (love that idea tbh)

This will be quite specific but anygays- cnc dacryphilia mixed with slight degrading praises for Dom!Kazuha

Iykwim, like it's cnc connected with tears (dacryphilia) but he's not fully degradation, he's gentle :(

thank you anon!! i completely get what you mean and i can see kazuha acting like this for sure 😩 i love him forever (p.s.: hope you don’t mind i added a little fear-play as well)

The Cries of a Dove

cw: dark content, cnc, dacryphilia, fear-play, slight degradation, public sex (even though they’re completely alone it’s still outside)

tags: sub fem!reader, dom!kazuha, mostly proofread

nsfw under the cut

m!list here

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Kazuha was the sweetest boyfriend. He always spoke so gently and treated you as though you were his greatest treasure. But there were moments when you just craved something more... Something darker. Your eyes flit to where Kazuha was sitting under a large maple tree, making soft music with small leaf. He always looked so peaceful and you loved him for who he was, but again, you wanted to see another side of him.

The leaves crunch under your feet and you sit down beside him. Kazuha removes the leaf from between his lips and gives you the most heart-melting smile, "Hello, my dove." You smile and rest your head on his shoulder and let out a sigh. His features twist into mild concern, "Is everything alright?" Now was your chance to speak up. Keeping your head on his shoulder, you look up at him, "Promise me you won't think I'm strange for this..."

Kazuha's soft laughter fills the warm air around you, "I would never think you're strange no matter what you told me." You huff out a breath, "So I've been wanting to try something...different." Kazuha waits patiently for you to continue. "Do you think you could... be more rough with me? Like...take me whenever you wanted without my permission first?" He blinks, processing your words in his head. You bury your head in his shoulder from embarrassment, "Say something..."

Kazuha places his fingers under your chin, "Look at me, dove." You hesitantly look up at him and he smiles, "I'll do it." Your mouth hangs open, "You will...?" He kisses your nose, "When have I ever denied you?"

Later that evening, you and Kazuha were walking through the ruins of Higi Village. The red leaves from the trees rustle in the breeze and the wooden ruined houses creak making shiver run up your spine. Kazuha squeezes your hand gently, "Scared?" You give him a pointed look that makes him chuckle. Kazuha pauses which stops you both in your tracks. His finger goes to his lips, letting you know to stay quiet as he whispers, "I think something is here. Stay put."

With that, he releases your hand, leaving you standing there with speechless. Kazuha disappears behind one of the houses and you look around cautiously for any signs of what he thought was out there. Minutes pass by and you begin to pace, lost in worried thoughts that he was taking way too long for your liking. Your thoughts are cut off by the sound of a snapping branch, from behind you. You whip around with wide eyes, your heart racing, "Kazuha?" Silence...

You look around anxiously when suddenly a hand clasps over you mouth and a hard body presses up behind you, a strong arm wraps around your waist. The sound of your scream muffled in his hand, struggling to get of the hold you were in. "Shhhh... You're too noisy", a hot breath against your ear sends shivers down your spine, but the familiar voice makes you begin to calm down. You breathe heavily into his hand that remained over your mouth, unsure of what exactly was going on.

Kazuha's free hand snakes down your body and takes its place on your hip, giving it a squeeze as he rolls his hips into you. "Stop, Kazu...", your voice muffled and also shaky from the adrenaline that coursed through your veins. "You don't get a say in this, my dove...", his voice a husky whisper as his fingers dance along your inner thigh, creeping towards your sensitive clit.

You inhale sharply when Kazuha moves your panties to the side and begins slowly toying with your clit, pinching then rubbing it with the pads of his fingers. You let out a small moan, the sound catching in his other hand that had yet to remove itself from your mouth. Kazuha huffs a small laugh, "You like this? Letting some man play with your little pussy... You haven't been able to turn to see that it's really me yet. I could be anyone right now..."

Your eyes flutter and you whimper at his words. He was right. If you hadn't recognized his voice and knew it was him, you would be helplessly moaning into some stranger's hand as he toyed with you. Kazuha runs a finger through your slick, "What's this? Are you turned on by the idea of a stranger having his way with you?" His tone was teasing, but condescending.

Kazuha slips two fingers into your warm, wet core, pressing them against the spot that had you melting into him. His fingers pump in and out of your pussy, continuously pressing the same spot over and over. The feeling made your legs shake. The whole situation was not one that you expected and it was overwhelming.

You stumble when Kazuha removes his fingers and pushes you forward. Your hands catch you from falling face-first into that ruined wooden wall of the abandoned home in front of you. You hear the sound of rustling clothes behind you and soon feel his hardened cock land on your ass. Your heart races again. You knew it was Kazuha, but his earlier words were really messing with you. He moves his hand from your mouth, only to shove two fingers into it, making you drool and whine around them.

It catches him off guard when he feels something wet run down his hand. Keeping his fingers in your mouth, Kazuha tilts your head back so he could look at your face. Something inside his twists when he sees you had begun to cry, but he wasn't going to stop now, "Really, my dove? Tears? This is what you wanted." You cry out when he slams himself into your pussy with virtually no warning. Your cunt squeezed him so tight, he had to put in extra effort to fuck the way he wanted to.

His voice is hoarse and low when he speaks again, "Look at the way this pussy swallows up my cock~ Such a pretty view." Kazuha bucks up into you switching from fast and hard, to slow drags of his cock within your walls. Drool spills from your lips, coating his fingers and down your chin. The noises you were making were pathetic almost as you whimpered and moaned each time he buried himself deep within you.

Endless praises fell from Kazuha's lips, the feeling of being inside you in such a scenario made him crazy for you, "My little dove takes my cock so well. Squeezing around me like you're trying to milk me for all I'm worth... Such a pretty little thing all helpless just for me -fuck-" Tears spilled down your cheeks, your adrenaline making you feel more sensitive than usual as you cum hard around his cock. Kazuha groans at the sensation and fucks into you hard, chasing after his own release.

Kazuha's body curls against yours as he releasing inside of you. His cock throbbing to the beat of his heart as he comes down from his bliss. A mix of cum leaks out when he pulls away. Kazuha takes his fingers out of your mouth and turns you around to face him. What a sight you were with reddened cheeks and glassy eyes that stared up at him in a daze. He gently rubs his thumb across your cheek, taking some tears with it and gives you sweet smile that held a hint of concern, "Are you alright, my dove?" You nod, trying to process everything, "You scared me a little, but I kind of enjoyed it... So thank you for giving into my request." Kazuha takes your hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to your palm, "Anything for my little dove."

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a/n: dear god, when is it my turn

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings: swearing, trauma, therapy, unprotected piv, oral sex (female receiving)

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Part Twenty-Eight of Ink & Needle

The aftermath of Kit’s actions influences your daily life. You proposition Simon with the hope of moving forward.

Chapter Twenty-Seven // Chapter Twenty-Nine

ao3 // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Three Months Later

Healing isn’t linear. It is not kind or forgiving. The strangeness of therapy is how it resembles a spiderweb, beautiful at a glance but a lie. There is nothing beautiful in facing what you wish to leave behind. Sticky and lethal and pure carnage rehashed over and over again until talking it out becomes a numbing dullness.

Hope therapy goes well today. Love you.

Evie’s text stares up at you from the phone screen. She’s been a good friend through all of this, giving you space yet standing by your side. How the roles have reversed, become opposite from where it all started.

Bravo’s wet nose pushes into your palm, forcing your attention away from the phone screen.

“Hello, Bravo,” you croon softly, scratching the underside of his chin. “You good boy. Best boy!” His tail whips around in a circle, kicking up a breeze.

Simon’s dog has attended every therapy session with you. At first, you thought is strange that Simon insisted on it, but now you can’t imagine not having the German Shepherd there. Nearly all of your appointments occur during 141 Ink’s business hours. Simon cannot join you in person, but he can send a piece of himself along.

“Where’s your dad?” you tease. “Do you see him?”

Bravo stretches his neck, glancing around for Simon. It lasts only a moment. He is clearly far more interested in the attention you’re giving him.

“He is right here.”

Simon’s voice wraps around like a warm hug. You went without it for so long that now it’s a treat every time you hear him speak.

Bravo pivots out of your touch, taking a step forward to situate himself between you and Simon.

Simon’s eyebrows rise slightly as he crosses his arms over his chest. The body language stands in stark contrast to his massive grin. “Protecting her, are you? Even from me?” Bravo half-whines, half-barks. Simon chuckles. “That’s my boy.”

He gives Bravo a quick pat on the head before stepping around the dog. You immediately lean into Simon, one hand pressing into his chest as he cups the side of your neck, his thumb resting on the front of your throat. There is a protective, nearly primal quality to the way Simon’s features shift as his attention turns to you

“Am I late?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No.” Presenting your mouth, Simon descends slowly, meeting you with a serenely sensual kiss.

All the quiet, simmering anxiety that sits in the back of your mind melts away like a last snow, leaving behind a plethora of green grass that reaches for the sun. Simon is your beacon in the dark, the candle flame that lights your way.

One kiss is not enough. You need a second. A third.

The old flame of desire snakes upward, slithering between your bones to settle in your chest. It is asking for the thing you’ve denied yourself the last three months—an intimacy you had with Simon before everything happened.

A fourth kiss. A fifth. Desire tightens its languid body, constricting until your breath catches.

���Get a room!”

The voice of a passing stranger breaks the enchantment, the building desire retreating to hide amongst brown leaves and sticks.

Your cheeks grow hot just as a scowl appears on Simon’s face. Shoulder’s straightening, Simon is gearing to tell the interloper off, but you grab at Simon’s hand the second he begins to turn. A light tug is all it takes. Just your touch, and Simon’s scowl recedes to a soft smile that he only ever gives to you.

With a quick shrug of his shoulders, Simon clears his throat and takes Bravo’s offered leash, wrapping it around his tattooed knuckles. He places his hand low on your back, ushering you toward his parked car.

“How was therapy?”

Simon asks every time—a loaded question.

You exhale through your nostrils, briefly glancing away from him because telling the truth is fucking hard, especially when it involves him. You settle on a half-lie.

“Fine,” you reply. “Productive.”

Fine? Yes. Productive? No.

Simon’s head tilts slightly, gaze assessing like he doesn’t entirely believe you. “Up for company today?”

This you can appreciate it. Simon may always ask how therapy went but he never pushes further than you’re willing to give.

“Not really,” you answer, this time truthfully.

Evie’s unanswered text is as much a reminder as Simon’s questions. Things are different now. Normal cannot be what it once was. There are fractures you hold in your heart, memories that you wish you could erase with a quick snap of the fingers.

Simon nods, apparently content with your answer. “Then we’ll go home.”

It’s a short walk to the car, but you savor every second, leaning against Simon with each step. He talks your ear off about nothing, filling the air with what he did at the shop today, and the customers he had even as he helps you into the car.

It’s a lovely distraction. Which is why Simon is doing it at all. He knows. He understands. Simon is not a chatty person, he’s usually blunt with his words, more to the point than anything else. He prefers fewer words than long-winded nothings, and him keeping you distracted like this goes against everything he’s comfortable with.

But Simon doesn’t know what you talk about in those sessions with the therapist, and you refuse to share it with him. He also doesn’t ask, and for that, you’re fucking grateful. You’re still coming to terms with it yourself, shuffling through the two and a half months you were gone.

Sometimes, you think things would be easier if Kit had just hurt you. That’s the expected thing, to be mutilated in unforgiveable ways. You think about his choices often, what was going through his head, and why he never raised a single hand to you. The silence you received instead is almost worse somehow. Kit refused to speak with you, and the only other person who saw was the man that brought you your meal. He refused to say anything to you—refused to even glance in your direction. It wasn’t until the coffin that you heard the first human voice other than your own in two months.

And the voice was Simon’s. Not Kit’s. Simon’s.

Today, you talked about the coffin.

Not that you actually remember it. You only saw it after you were released from the hospital. Simon took you to some military base because Captain Price thought that seeing it in person might trigger a memory. He was firmly against it, insisted that you didn’t have to do this, but you pushed back, wanting to see what that monster put you in. Simon backed down, but setting your gaze on the thing that you nearly died in turned your limbs to stone and your mind to smeared jelly.

Simon was fucking furious. You’ve seen him upset—and you thought you knew what anger looked like on him. How wrong you were. Kyle stepped in and escorted you out of the room. You might have been on the other side of the wall but it only damped the screaming match that happened. Their words were heated, the exchange loud, and though you didn’t catch all of it, you picked up pieces.

Don’t involve her again.

This is my price to pay.

She’s suffered enough.

Kyle, while leaning against the wall next to you and fidgeting with his watch, had given you a solemn smile, an attempt to reassure but only left you feeling hollow.

“Don’t fret over it,” he had said. “Simon loves you is all. Price knows that.”

“They’re screaming at each other,” you murmured.

Kyle shrugged, the smile becoming more sincere and genuine. “Price will hug him after he’s done yelling. Simon will grunt.” He winked. “All good, love. Promise.”

Simon never brought you to another military base or anything to do with what happened again. If anyone reached out to him to insist, you never heard about it.

But of what you do remember, it’s of what happened before the coffin, how Kit smiled when he brought you your meal. You didn’t know it was drugged then. He hid it well, disguising the taste and texture. You should have known something was wrong when Kit sat on the floor across from you and watched you gobble up every bite. But you had been hungry, and having another person near felt so comforting in the moment.

“Movie sound good?”

You inhale sharply, turning toward Simon’s voice. He’s standing next to you, passenger door open, the middle of the brow creased with concern by your reaction. The two of you are already home.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. “What did you ask?”

The corners of his lips turn downward. You’ve slipped off again—left reality for a bit.

“A movie,” repeats Simon. “After dinner. Thought we could stay in tonight.”

Bravo shoves his face between the front passenger seat and the interior of the car. His dark eyes dart between the two of you, impatience clear in the way his tail thump thump thumps against the backseat.

“Great,” you reply, slipping out of the car.

Simon’s gaze remains impassive, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes your hand, Bravo trotting along behind the two of you.

Inside, Simon takes your coat, hanging it up next to his before heading into the kitchen to start the kettle. It’s April now, but the weather is still chilly on occasion, and you could go for a tea.

“The new visa should arrive soon,” says Simon, flipping the tap on the electric kettle. “Price made a few calls.” Grabbing two mugs from the cupboard, he sets them down on the counter before turning around to face you. “Could get you a different one. A longer stay.” He pauses, a hopefulness twinkling in his eye. “Citizenship even.”

With everything that’s happened, Simon still wants you here, with him. Hands clasped in front of you, you meander into the kitchen, almost sauntering in the way you approach him. Simon’s eyelids grow heavy, that earlier desire forming in his gaze. The two of you have touched and kissed, but the few times any further intimacy has been initiated, it’s been by Simon. You weren’t committed then, still confused and dripping with a sense of being unclean.

When you’re ready. No rush.

Respect for you outweighs his desire. Simon made you aware in other ways—subtle glances and touches, gentle compliments—but never pushed, never made you feel like sex is an expectation. He handed you the ball and bat with the only request that you swing when ready.

“Is that what you want, Simon? For me to stay?”

As you draw closer, Simon’s hands instinctually reach out to you. You do not shy away but step into his embrace. Those large, tattooed hands of his clutch your waist, pulling you closer until you’re nearly flush against him.

“There are few things I want more.”

“Only a few?” you tease, and you’re greeted with a warm smile.

“Nothing, then.”

The kettle starts to boil, but Simon ignores his, all of his attention focused on you.

“I don’t want to watch a movie. Think I’d like to do something else.”

Simon shrugs. “Course, love. Whatever you want.” He shifts slightly to plop a teabag into each mug and then carefully pours the water over the top. “We can watch the next episode of that show—”

“No,” you interject, and Simon sets the kettle down. “I mean—” You lick your lips, unsure of how you want to approach this. “I want to…try.”

Simon blinks. “Try,” he says slowly. “Try…what?”

It takes every ounce of control to not laugh at Simon’s confusion. Placing your hand on his chest, you slide it lower, and lower still until the confusion on his face melts away and realization dawns. Without breaking eye contact, Simon grasps your wrist and draws your hand away as it falls dangerously close to brushing against his groin.

“Only if you’re ready,” he murmurs, though you hear the hunger. “Don’t do it on my account.”

“I miss you.”

“I’m right here, love.”

As you press into him, Simon’s resolve splinters. Your face is upturned, lips slightly parted in offer, and Simon’s mouth is just shy of connection. You breathe him in just as he does you. There is nothing you want more, to be consumed by him, to reconnect in the one way you’ve been without.

Simon lightly grasps the bottom-half of your face. “After dinner,” he says, and the curling need pooling low in your belly squirms with discontent.

“Now,” you breathe, a demand.

Simon’s eyelids flutter. Close. He takes a deep, steadying breath before opening them again. “If I sink inside you right now, I won’t last.”

The admission only enflames the already burning embers. You desperately need to cross this hurdle, to find this intimacy with Simon again. With one hand free, you gently cup him through his jeans, rubbing, finding him hard and wanton.

Simon growls, and then you’re being lifted. He shoves everything out of the way, hot water spilling into the sink and onto the floor. The tea is forgotten, the bags briefly floating in the sink before the water disappears down the drain.

“I’m not taking you like this,” says Simon, forehead pressing against yours. “We’re having tea. Dinner. And only after will I indulge you.”

“Think the tea is ruined, Simon.”

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, closing the distance to seize you in a fierce kiss.

Everything about it is honey-drenched. Sticky. Slightly sweet. You open for him, and he goes for a taste, his hand on your throat like a collar. This is the passion you remember; the wanton need you crave.

It is not gone. Only buried.

As your hands roam, the kissing only becomes more desperate. Your thighs trap his waist, but he makes no move to retreat. Not like you could stop him. He’s far stronger than you, and even in that strength he’s aware of it, not grasping too tightly.

Fingers delve, and in seconds you have the front of Simon’s jeans open, slipping your hand inside to find his warmth. As your fingers brush his skin, Simon breaks the kiss, nearly choking on his next breath as he draws back.

“Dinner first,” he groans, grabbing your wrist and forcing your hand from his pants. “Food first.”

“You’re a tease, Simon Riley,” you whimper.

He chuckles, low and knowing. “Like making you squirm.”

Dinner is a much longer affair than you’d like, as if Simon has an eternity to feed you. Every time you try to help, he shoos you off, telling you to relax and enjoy your cuppa. You eventually give up, curling up with Bravo on the sofa watching reality television as Simon putters about.

When he finally hands you your plate, you scarf it down in record time, promptly setting it aside to stare at Simon longingly.

“After,” he repeats.

“Buzzkill.”

Simon reaches over and squeezes your thigh, returning to his meal, gaze locked on the television. You try to refocus, but your mind is locked on a singular goal like you’re a man thinking with his dick and not his brain.

With a final scrape of his fork across his plate, Simon clears it, sighing with contentment. Reaching for your plate, he starts cleaning up, still insisting that you don’t move from the couch at all. This time, you don’t put up a fight, deciding it is better to snuggle with Bravo.

“Bed, Bravo,” snaps Simon. The German Shepherd grumbles as he lifts his head from your lap and dramatically slides off the couch. “To think you used to sniff out bombs,” mutters Simon, shaking his head. “Off with you.”

Bravo disappears down the hall, and then Simon is turning to you, holding out a hand in offering. “Come here to me.”

The delivery in his voice leaves no room for denial. Pushing off from the couch and reaching for his hand is easy. You want this—need this.

Simon’s arms go around you, holding you close. That soft smile returns and you answer it with one of your own.

“Still want to do this?”

“I’m sure.”

Simon’s thumb lightly grazes the line of your jaw. “Tell me if you want to stop. Promise me.”

“Promise,” you murmur.

“That’s my girl.”

With your hand in his, Simon walks backward into the bedroom. He pulls you in as he shuts the door, teasing a kiss but not giving it to you. You try to steal one anyway, but Simon knows you too well, leaning away at the last second as he slips his hand from yours.

There is no mask. No anymore. Haven’t seen it at all unless he’s at the shop, working. His sweatshirt goes, followed by his shirt, leaving him bare from the waist up. Even in the dark with a just a hint of moonlight, you can glimpse him.

Corded muscle. Endless tattoos.

Your hands copy his movements, removing an article of clothing one at a time. All this time you’ve been rushing, and now that you’re here, the undressing is slow. Languid. Simon is done before you, and even in the dark you notice the way his hands clench and unclench with the anticipation of touching you.

You barely have your socks and pants off before Simon is grasping for you, hands groping ass and hip, mouth coming down on yours with desperation. In this, you feel utterly wanted, as if there is nothing he requires more than to be one with you.

Simon’s erection presses into your lower stomach, an insistent thing that both of you ignore. His kisses are your favorite, you want them forever, and that is all you can focus on even as your grow slicker between the thighs.

You drape your arms over his shoulders and then connect them behind his neck, clinging like he’ll disappear if you don’t. Simon’s hands slide over your back and down to your ass, filling his hands as squeezing. Angling your hips up a bit, he rubs himself against you, a low groan leaving him as the base of his erection brushes the side of your clit.

Forget slow. Forget the fact that Simon admitted he wouldn’t last.

Unlocking your arms from around his neck, you reach back and grab one of Simon’s groping hands. Bringing it between your bodies, you guide his fingers to your pussy, desperately needing him to touch you. His thick fingers slide easily over your sex, your arousal apparent.

You shiver from the contact, but Simon? Simon growls, low and feral, and utterly primal. Flattening three fingers against your sex, Simon parts you, the middle finger teasing your entrance with a soft caress. It hovers, and then starts to slide in.

Simon’s lips move away from your mouth and to your chin, then to your jaw, and then your throat. More of his finger enters.

“I missed you,” you whimper as he settles to the knuckle. Simon’s teeth graze your neck as his finger begins to slide back out. “Every. Day.”

Simon adds a second finger, pumping both in perfect rhythm. “I’m here now, love. Right here. Not going anywhere.”

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp as Simon’s palm rubs against your clit. “I—love—”

“Love, what?” coaxes Simon.

“You. I love you.”

Simon’s teeth no longer graze but they don’t bite down. They trace a line up your throat before taking a nip at your bottom lip. His fingers begin to retreat again but you grasp the back of his hand, pressing, urging him back inside.

“Don’t be gentle with me,” you murmur, rocking your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers. “Fuck me the way you want to. Please.”

Simon’s head tilts to the side. “You sure about that, love?”

You whimper, nodding, pussy clenching around his fingers as his palm lightly rubs against your clit again. It’s lovely—slowly building that orgasm you so desperately crave. But then Simon’s fingers are gone and in his mouth, sucking them clean.

Your brain short circuits, unable to comprehend the change until Simon is guiding you onto all fours on the bed. He places a hand on your upper back, urging your front into the mattress as your ass stays up in the air. Guiding your legs apart, you expect him to settle between, to mount you and rut.

His mouth finds you instead, tongue parting your pussy from clit to opening then back again. You press back against his mouth and Simon makes a feast of you. The orgasm is a slap in the face. It doesn’t arrive slowly but as a thunderous force, nearly smashing you over the head with its intensity.

Thighs quiver. Legs shake. You cry out so loud you think Simon might stop. He doesn’t. He only continues through the ordeal, urging toward another and yet another until there are tears in your eyes. Only then does he draw back, wettened lips kissing the backs of your thighs and the curve of your ass.

His strong hands rub up and down the length of your back. Soothing and comforting at first, but then demanding, helping you turn until you’re facing him. Limbs like jelly, you allow Simon to draw you into his lap, to ease your legs to fall on either side of him, to help guide you to and then onto his cock.

“Want me to stop?” he asks, voice gruff.

You vehemently shake your head. “No. Want you. Always.”

With a final effort, Simon rocks his hips up just as he presses down on your hips. Every inch is inside of you, stretching, filling. You’re full of him, but it’s not enough. You need him to move.

“Simon,” you beg.

Shifting his arms, he supports you with his hands and forearms as well as his thighs. It forces your legs up and open, ankles and feet dangling. A slice of moonlight cuts through the room, highlighting the space where your bodies meet. With your forehead resting against his cheek, you watch as Simon guides you up and down his length, disappearing and then reappearing with a shine.

Keeping one arm hooked behind his neck, you reach between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. You create a v with index and middle finger, parting your pussy to open you up more, to capture the place where Simon’s cock penetrates you.

He’s hardly keeping it together as you tease the base of his cock with a fingernail Simon’s whimper instinctually has your pussy tightening around him.

“I want you to come inside me,” you whisper, breath brushing over his cheek. Simon’s hands tighten, fingers digging into your flesh as he ceases sliding and starts thrusting. “Please,” you add with a hint of longing.

He cannot say no. Simon never does.

In seconds, Simon has you on your back, flattening you against the bed. With one hand above your head, fisting the sheets, he rests the other on the inner thigh of your left leg, holding it wide and open for a better angle.

Simon’s first thrust is brutal. He buries his face against your neck, and doesn’t fucking stop. Every time your bodies connect, he grunts loudly. The muscles in his back bulge beneath your palms.

This is not healing. This is carnage. This is a burial.

Simon is digging your grave but not to leave you to rot. You are to be wholly submerged, wholly undone in the dark, to be thread unspooled. You will linger in this grave, in Simon’s arm, to know only of him. And then, only then, will you be unearthed from the dirt.

In the morning, with the light, there will be a calmness that smothers all. A closing of a door that will never be reopened. There is no definition in past, only a resounding future, and you must take it—seek it.

“I love you,” groans Simon.

His words are what does it, that breaks the flood, and shows you the way forward.

“You’re mine.”

These words are not a groan, more a plea. You’re mine because he wants it so, and all you need to do is agree.

Mine.

Mine.

“Love you.”

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@talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307 @itsberrydreemurstuff @kylies-love-letter

[visionarymode]

Winter Whispers

✧ warnings: smut, language, 18+

✧ pairing: roman reigns x female reader

✧ word count: 2,832

“God, it’s fucking freezing out there,” he breathed out as he shut the door behind him.

“Baby I told you to just leave it for tomorrow,” you sighed, getting up from the couch to walk over to him. Your jaw dropped at his bright red nose as he rubbed his hands together. He looked so cute all bundled up with his black beanie and thick jacket.

“Oh my god,” you giggled, still baffled that he wanted to go outside in this negative degree weather to shovel the snow. Yet he insisted that it wouldn’t be a big deal and he’d be quick. You grabbed his big, cold hands to wrap your own tiny, warm ones around them as you got on your tip toes to kiss him. His lips were so cold yet still so soft.

“Mm,” he hummed as he went in for seconds. “I feel warmer already…” he deeply mumbled against your lips making you lazily grin with your low eyelids focused on his own pearly whites.

“Let me get daddy some hot chocolate first,” you giggled as he playfully grabbed a handful of your ass.

You walked over to the kitchen counter and added whipped cream to both mugs and topped it off with some mini marshmallows and chocolate drizzle. You couldn’t help but stare at his gorgeous self as he cleared his throat, took off his jacket, and slicked back a few strands of hair falling in his face from his messy bun. He caught you looking and quickly steered your attention at the drinks in front of you as he licked his lips and ran his hand over his thick beard. You felt your cheeks flush as you heard him chuckle at your embarrassment. He got himself comfortable on the big couch as you grabbed both mugs and headed over join him.

“Thanks baby,” he smiled as he took a sip of the mug, dramatically fluttering his eyes as he licked the remaining whipped cream from his lips.

“Good huh?” you giggled, plopping your self next to him as you swung your legs over his lap.

“Mhm,” he mumbled as be took another sip, his other hand gently rubbing on your bare leg. His subtly eyed your exposed skin as be lowered the mug from his lips that he licked, watching you as you teasingly bent your knee and rocked it side to side making his gaze slowly peer up your entire body. You were wearing an oversized ugly christmas sweater with nothing but panties underneath and some long fuzzy socks.

“What?” you chuckled, as he raised his brows, a smirk creeping up on his lips. He loved your subtle yet scandalous little outfits you always put together.

Your eyes focused on his as you took a sip from your mug, purposefully letting some slip on your bottom lip. You wiped it with your thumb and laughed at his sudden tight, frustrated grip on your lower leg.

“Quit your little games and come sit on daddy’s lap…” he deeply ordered as he snaked his hand up your thigh. You placed your mug on the coffee table and obliged as you hopped on his lap. You heard him wince as he turned his body to set his own mug on the table.

“Are you okay?” you asked worriedly, furrowing your brows at his sudden pain.

“Yeah…my shoulders just a little sore from the shoveling,” he grunted, looking back up at you as he scratched his beard.

“Just a little?” you asked again, your tone slightly above a whisper as you softly smoothed your hands up and down his upper arms. You knew he was undermining how painful it really was, he was always one to not make you worry.

“Yes…just a little,” he not so convincingly reassured, pulling you in by your sweater to place a kiss on your lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck allowing your foreheads to press together as he ran his hands up and down your back. He cupped the side of your face, keeping you close as he sensually took his time exploring your mouth with his thick, warm tongue.

“You’re still cold,” you whispered with a frown, feeling him shiver a little beneath you as his face still felt chilly.

“But…you’re helping…a lot,” he whispered back in between kisses. Your lips stayed connected on the last one, both of you transferring some extra love and lust towards the other as your fingers brushed his beard. He sniffled a little, making you hide your laugh at his still bright red nose.

“What?” he asked, playfully furrowing his brows as you played with his sweater strings.

“Your nose is so red. You look like Rudolph,” you teased with a giggle.

“Oh I’m Rudolph now?” he sarcastically asked with a deep tone, brushing strands of your hair out of your eyes.

“It’s cute though,” you reassured, your hands resting on the sides of his neck as you leaned in to kiss his chilled nose. You pecked it again as your thumbs softly swiped across his freckles sprawled under his eyes.

“It makes your freckles pop,” you softly spoke, kissing each freckled side. He wrapped both arms around you, pulling you as close to his chest as possible with another little grunt, and you knew it was once again from his soreness.

“I know you’re in pain,” you pulled back to whisper, running your hands up and down his biceps again as he lovingly gazed at your concern, his eyes crinkling from his smile.

“Sweetheart…I’m fine,” he reassured once again against your lips with his big, plump soft ones. You both exchanged about five short and audible kisses before you came up with your own offer.

“You sure? I could give daddy a little massage…” you bribed, trying to hide your taunting smile. You delicately and dedicatedly dug your fingers into his shoulders to show him a preview as he pleasingly inhaled from the temporary relief.

“Uh huh…” you mocked as he closed his eyes from the wonders of your fingers.

“That does feel good…” he pleasantly responded, his eyes still closed as he licked his lips.

“Mhm…a little massage…and a nice, hot shower will make daddy feel real good” you whispered as you snaked your hands down his chest and stomach, picking the hem black hoodie, reaching further underneath to pick at his long sleeve. Your little grind against his bulge got him to open those deep brown eyes of his as he bucked his hips in response.

“Oh yeah?” he deeply asked slightly above a whisper, his eyes fixated on your bare thighs as they slowly gazed up your body and eventually up your hungry, inviting eyes. He ran his big hands over your tiny body, cupping your breasts, a smirk creeping on his lips as his right hand found your cheek to cup it, pulling you down onto his laid body. You both moaned as your lips found each other, tongues enticingly swirling to savor each other’s sweet and cocoa taste.

“You’re so beautiful…” he groaned between kisses and head turns as he squeezed your ass cheeks, using them as leverage to rub against his hard on. You satisfyingly exhaled as his hand moved from your cheek to the back of your head to grab a handful of your hair to pull on, exposing your neck. He left sloppy, wet kisses down your jaw making you bite your lip as you felt your panties get wetter…and wetter…

“Mmm…” he deeply moaned as he slid his thick, warm tongue along your neck. A hushed gasp escaped your lips as he sucked on your sweet spot, his large hand tightly squeezing your right ass cheek as you let yourself unapologetically ride his bulge.

“Roman…” you moaned his name as his lips audibly smacked against your sensitive skin.

“What sweetheart?” he asked as his hands smoothly ran up your lower back and around your hips to tightly grip them as he removed his lips from your neck to gaze up at your flushed face.

“Hm?” he pressured again, running his thumb across your glossy, wet bottom lip as your lost eyes never left his sinister ones.

“Wanna hit the shower with me?” he whisperingly asked as your lips naturally parted, allowing him to slowly slip his thumb inside and along your warm tongue, making you suck on it.

“Mhm,” you nodded with a not so innocent grin, his thumb fondling with your lip again as he flashed his own pearly whites. You yelped as he suddenly scooped you up into his arms. Your legs naturally wrapping around his torso, giggling as he spanked you while heading up the stairs.

“You can put me down I don’t wanna make your shoulders worse,” you expressed in worry again as he kissed his teeth in disagreement. He placed you on the counter, gently grabbing you by the throat as your lips brushed together.

��Stop…worrying…about my body…and let me fuck yours,” he growled. You practically moaned watching him slowly and torturously take off his shirt, exposing his tanned, tatted, and muscular body. You slipped off your own sweater, exposing your black laced bra and panties while he turned on the water on.

“You’re so perfect…you know that?” he softly asked once he turned back around, keeping his fascinated and loving eyes on you, tilting your chin up with his finger while the other one found your back to unclip your bra. It fell in your lap before he snatched it and threw it on the floor making you grin against his lips. Your legs clutched to his waist as he easily scooped you back up in his arms. You both exchanged a slow kiss, smiling against each others lips as he stepped inside the shower. You couldn’t help but feel guilty about him continuously carrying you with his sore muscles but he instantly made you forget as his tongue wrestled yours. You got lost in his juicy and wet lips and forgot you were even under the running shower by how quickly you both got wet. You gasped as he dropped you down and spun you around without warning, grabbing your hands to place on the wall as he pressed the tip of his dick between your ass cheeks. He held both of your hands up above your head with his left hand, the right one hooking right under your panties to feel your wet lace.

“Baby…” you moaned as he left sloppy kisses down your back, his hands roaming around your curves as he knelt on the floor. You felt his hands grope your ass cheeks, the sudden poke of his teeth on your skin as he held the hem of your laced panties with his teeth, sliding them off as you lifted each leg to help him.

“Good girl…” he muttered with the lace still between his teeth, smacking your ass again as you turned around at the sight. You bit your lip, lovingly gazing up at his tall figure, soaked in water as it dripped down his body…making you snatch the panties between his teeth and throwing it over the rod. His lips found your neck again, making your eyes flutter as your right hand reached below to stroke his slippery, hard, and tanned dick in your palm.

“You wet for daddy?” he moaned in your ear, his two middle fingers sliding up and down between your sticky, slick folds making you gasp from his touch.

“Yes…” you whined as he slowed down the pace of his slithering fingers between your folds, teasing his long middle one against your hole. His dick was rock hard against your belly as he grabbed your throat with his other free hand, keeping a tight grip on your neck while that thumb and forefinger toyed with your jaw.

“Please…” you begged with a gasp as he slowly slipped his middle finger inside of you.

“Hm?” he taunted, placing his wet lips on yours. You panted between the slippery kisses as you nodded, hoping he’d fulfill your begging needs.

He removed his finger to slide it against his tongue, enclosing his lips around it as he tasted your needy, sweet juices. He picked you up and pinned you against the dripping wall, his left arm wrapped around your lower back as his right grabbed his dick.

“I got you baby girl…” he cooed with a reassuring, sexy nod as he dragged his streaming tip along your soaked entrance making your mouth drop open. He dragged it in vertical strokes a couple times before slipping his entire length inside of you with ease, making you both moan at the familiar and pleasureful reunion. He started with nice, slow, easy thrusts as you both moaned against each others tongues. You jerked in his arms, struggling to stay still as your legs tightened around his waist.

“Feel good baby?” he groaned, the fast droplets of water falling between his lips as he spoke, pulling you right back in between them as you bit his soaked bottom lip.

“Yes…fuuuuuck,” you cried out with a gasp, his thrusts intensifying, the sound of his doused balls slapping against your wet skin growing louder, and the parting of his mouth widening from his gratifying bliss watching you in pleasure.

“Like that sweetheart? You like daddy’s dick?” he moaned as his hand slid over your drizzling thigh and around your ass to spank it.

“Y-Y-Yesyesyes…” you loudly moaned, your left arm sliding off his neck to cup the right side of his wet and glistening bearded face. Water dripping down his dampened strands of hair and parted lips as he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your head fell back to the wall for a split second before a new wave of warm, shocking pleasure sparked your lower belly making your head fall forward onto his forehead. He slid his tongue into your mouth to get another whine out of you as he subtly slowed down his thrusts.

“You gon’ cum sweetheart? You gon’ cum for daddy?” he deeply whispered yet was so audible over the loud drops of water from the shower head and your wet bodies smacking against each other. He held you tight as he took a step back to get you both covered right underneath the water, slapping your right ass cheek.

“Yes daddy…” you gasped as he picked you further up against the wall, slowly sliding you back down the tiles at the same pace of his tongue as it licked you between your middle breast bone and back up to your neck as his dick slipped right back in you. You felt like you were seeing stars as your eyes fluttered uncontrollably, your breasts bouncing frantically against his soaked and tatted chest, and his moans filling your ear as he pumped his length in and out of your overstimulated pussy.

“I-I-I’m gonna cum,” you moaned with heavy pants as the his grip around your body and left thigh tightened. You felt your walls contract around his throbbing dick, his thrusts quickening by the millisecond. Your eyes struggled to stay open, the water hurriedly dripping down your fluttering eyelashes.

“Cum with me sweetheart…cum all over daddy’s dick,” he coached you as his heavy grunts heightened. Watching him soaked, in pure bliss, and hearing him call you your favorite name sent you right over the edge as you shut your eyes with one last loud and high pitched moan as your orgasm took complete control. He thrusted one last time inside of you, keeping his dick deep inside your gushing walls as his own warm and creamy cum filled you up. Your arms stayed wrapped around his neck and both of your heavy breathing slowed down to peaceful ones as he removed a couple wet strands of your bangs out of your face.

“I love you…” you whispered against his lips as he caressed your cheek with his thumb, a smile spreading across those dripping lips.

“I love you more sweetheart,” he confessed with a passionate kiss, slowly dropping you back down to the floor, both of his thumbs still cradling the sides of your face.

“Real shower time?” you asked with a giggle. He nodded as he flashed his pearly whites, using his right hand to move his hair out of his face.

“Real shower time. C’mon now…” he teasingly ordered as he ran his fingers through your hair, grabbing your shampoo with his other hand.

“No…you first. Your body needs a break,” you tried grabbing the bottle out of his hand but he snatched it away.

“Break?” he asked with a chuckle. He poured some into his hands, lathering it up as he rubbed them together.

“Baby-”

“Baby…” he cooed back as he interrupted, spinning you around by the waist as he started massaging your scalp with the shampoo.

“We gonna get cleaned up….and then I’m gonna make this pretty pussy cum all over again once we done.”

✧✧✧✧✧

thank you so much for reading! <3 I hope y’all enjoyed it ✨ happy holidays ✨

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[superserpentsmackdown]

[tojisun]

i would give anything for some simon fluff rn bc i feel like my bf is gonna break up with me soon and to have simon be a point of comfort would be everything to me rn. ily sun!

-🔪💕

oh my love, im so sorry to hear that. i hope and wish and pray that he wouldnt; that things could be talked through and issues could be smoothed over. i wish so much love to be on your way right now. i love you so so much and take care.

i rushed this in hopes of u seeing it faster and even then, it still took so long for me to post it; i hope, at least, that it turned out alright and that u can find comfort in this even if just a bit :’(

@/plutism for divider

simon breathes in deeply, quietly, his body slowly leaning to the door frame as he gazes at you.

you still don’t know that he’s back, busy humming to yourself as you finish preparing your breakfast. he has to talk to you about spatial awareness, acutely worried about the fact that you haven’t heard the door open or clocked in the extra shoes stowed in the shoe rack or, the most obvious one, noticed his presence.

yeah, those are worrying alright. but, right now, simon takes it – you – all in slowly. softly. deeply.

he takes in the way you’re dressed in nothing but his clothes – an old military shirt that he didn’t even know you kept, his pyjama pants with the excess fabric folded to hell so that you wouldn’t trip.

his dog tags, their quiet chime ringing in his ears melodiously.

simon ignores the prickles in the back of his eyes or the sudden lump lodged in his throat, busy cataloguing the changes you’ve done in your guys’ home – the potted plants by the kitchen window sill, the new wall clock that’s shaped like a cat instead of the old circular one he remembers getting from the dollar store.

the calendar on the fridge, days marked with x-es as you count down the days until simon’s presumed return from his mission. simon gave you a fake date so that he can still surprise you without fully disrupting your routine. johnny almost gave it away with his ramblings, but it worked out perfect in the end.

because in the end, here he is, basking in your presence, forging reality from what had just been a loving nostalgia of returning to you. because in the end, he is back home

simon carefully knocks on the door, smiling apologetically when you whipped around to look at him with a belted scream. your palm lurches to steady your beating heart, the other grasping the countertops, and simon’s laughter trickles into the air.

“si?” you gasp out, voice so quiet like you are afraid that he isn’t real.

“yeah,” simon replies just as softly; just as fearful of having this beautiful dream of coming back home to you be ripped away from his reach.

you’re running to him in his next breath and simon doesn’t even think, doesn’t even hesitate, before he’s meeting you halfway.

warm bodies collide, pairs of arms snaking around each other, pulling and tugging. he maps his palms on your back, feeling you better, familiarizing your body against his again. your hands fist at his jumper, nose nuzzling along his neck to breathe him in.

he hears you say his name, a trembly little thing. simon whispers your own, hoping you hear the way your name drips from his tongue like honey, packed with reverence and love.

your breath hitches, a choked sob replacing your gasp. “again,” you say, the words pressed on his skin. “say my name again.”

he does, murmuring your name again and again. not stopping even when he scoops you up in his arms to gently prop you up on the countertop.

you are full on sobbing now. “simon,” you reply. “simon. my simon.”

your simon.

that’s right – he is yours. all yours. just yours.

“yeah,” he replies with a hiccup, then a wet chuckle. “yours. and you? you are mine, yeah?”

you pull away just a bit, just enough that your eyes are meeting his. simon’s lips wobble at finally having a proper view of you.

“yes,” you rasp out. “‘m all yours.”

the first kiss is desperate even when it is slow; it is all languid and deep. his palms cup the back of your head and your hands trail hesitant touches before cupping his jaw; not once letting go. not once letting your hands stray away from him.

there are so many things simon wants to say: i missed you. i love you. you look good in my clothes. i love you. you are so beautiful. i love you. but they all fade away as he deepens the kiss because in this moment, nothing else matters but you in his embrace. but him back in your arms.

but this love that sustains him.

i hope, even if just a little, this helped. i love u nonnie <33

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field VIII

summary: you didn't meet the requirements for the plinth prize, only to find out that you're not just missing out on that- you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime. your friend wants to help, because maybe you can help each other.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.2k

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

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a/n: omg so this is the final part of the first like, section of this story! i probably should have not called them parts bc idk what to do for the second like.. bit. season? maybe?) yeah sure, season two coming soon!! lol

thank you guys so much for being here and reading this and enjoying it as much as i have enjoyed writing it! it truly means so much to me :)

next part

You hear footsteps and turn around in the seat, hoping desperately that it's Coryo, and you are relieved to see that it finally is. He had been gone for close to an hour. You stand quickly, going to meet him halfway, what you had to tell him couldn't wait. "Coryo," You say quickly, before launching into the full story. "Lucy Gray came back, the others were chasing her and she hid in that vent and she's still in there, they're trying to figure out how to get in. She's stuck."

You follow him back to the desk, his eyes wide now too. "That's good... I think that's good." He's scanning the arena again, as if there's any inch of it he hasn't committed to memory, trying to see if there was any way Dr. Gaul's snakes could reach her in the vent you pointed to.

"No, no it's not good because I don't think there's another way out of that one except the way she came in." You dig into your bag as it hangs at his side, pulling out the notebook that you drew the map in. "Yeah, look- it's pinched off about thirty feet in." You point to the page, holding it out for him to see.

"She just has to wait them out." He insists, pushing your hand down. "Put that away- you shouldn't have that."

Why is he so calm about this? Lucy Gray was trapped, and this time there was nothing either of you could do to help her. "Yeah, but that's not going to work for much longer." You say, watching as the three make a plan to push her farther into the vent and try and get her out from the bottom.

Hurriedly, you close your notebook and put it away so you don't have to look away for long.

"Just a little longer, Lucy Gray..." Coryo mutters to himself and grips onto your hand at his side. At this, you reach across your body and rub his arm with your free hand. His whole future could collapse in a matter of moments if Lucy Gray doesn't survive. Yours could too. But as you watch Coral thrust her weapon up into the pipes that you know Lucy Gray is inside, you flinch, not knowing how much longer Lucy Gray can hold out.

You can't even process what is happening to Treech and the outcries of his mentor and people in the theatre, wondering what happened to him as he collapses with a bloody nose. You knew, so you avoided even looking in their direction as Lucy Gray tumbled from the now shredded vent, landing directly on top of Coral before making a run for it. You're sure Coriolanus isn't even breathing.

You aren't either when every one of the tributes freezing and the wind starts whipping Lucy Gray's hair around her face and her dress around her sides. Everyone watches as a large tank is lowered into the arena and dropped delicately on top of the pile of debris in the center.

"What is that?" You wonder out loud, and Coryo just shakes his head as you look up at him.

"C'mon Lucy Gray, get out of there..."

"Wouldn't it be funny if it was candy?" Lucky jokes and you stifle a laugh.

At this moment, the young girl from District Eight wanders out into the clearing, pale and skinny. "Is it over?" She asks no one in particular, making your smile fade.

"Wovey..." Reaper warns her from where he's kneeling next to the bodies he had covered with the flag.

"Can we go home now?" You clutch your hand back to your chest as she walks toward the tank- you don't know what was in the tank, but you know it wouldn't be good.

"Wovey." He warns again, more stern this time with a slight shake of his head.

The tank starts to splinter, cracking steadily along all sides until it bursts open. You gasp at the amount of snakes that come out. A wave of moving, rainbow destruction crashes over the floor and completely engulfs the little girl in a fraction of a second, as everyone else starts to run.

As Lucy Gray and Coral make a break for the walls, trying to get up to the stands, Reaper seems to just accept his fate. You feel... bad. He could have taken your offer made days before, he could be winning right now. At least he and Wovey didn't suffer.

As Lucy Gray pushes herself backward up the pile of rubble away from the fast moving snakes, Coral starts speaking to her. You can't hear what she's saying, but you can see she's crying- maybe pleading for Lucy Gray's help, maybe just saying her goodbyes to this world. It didn't matter, Lucy Gray was the last one alive as Coral's body got surrounded by the snakes.

Please work. Coriolanus begs the universe, hoping that the cloth he had used to wipe her tears and the one she used to wipe away the dirt from her skin before the interview, which he took from your bag and shoved into slots in the tank would be enough to save her.

"She won!" You grin, shaking Coryo's shoulder as he stands beside you, eyes still locked on Lucy Gray.

That's when she starts to sing, just as the snakes catch up to her. Why aren't they letting her out? It was over.

"Why aren't they getting her out?" You ask him, confused as everyone watches intensely, entranced by her voice.

"I'll be along, when I've finished my song..."

Coryo and you both turn, facing the audience now and all eyes immediately lock on Dr. Gaul. "Dr. Gaul, she won." He says, as if somehow she's missed it- surely she had. Surely she's not watching the same thing you are.

"When I've shut down the band, played out my hand..."

"It's over, let her out!" You shout, attempting to draw her attention.

"Paid all my debts..."

"Why aren't they attacking her?" You hear someone ask, noticing the snakes are almost entirely covering Lucy Gray's shirt now.

"Have no regrets, right here..."

"It must be the singing," Coryo replies, and you look up at him. You don't know that that's true, but you won't ask. "It's calming them."

"In the old therebefore..."

"She can't sing forever."

"Then let her out!" You yell, looking pleadingly up at Dr. Gaul in the stands. "Dr. Gaul!" You demand her attention now, stomping your foot down.

Your blood is boiling when she still won't look at you and the sound of Lucy Gray's voice fills the theatre. "Look at me!" You scream, and clearly, people are getting annoyed at you for interrupting Lucy Gray's song. "Look at me now or let her out!"

She does neither, not until Lucy Gray's song moves everyone else to match your cries for her to be released. Only then does Dr. Gaul look at the two of you, and you drop Coryo's hand.

The doctor sighs, leaning over to her assistant. "Get her out. Now." She says, and cheers erupt in the room previously filled with emotional tears.

"I did it." Coryo says, and you have to lean close to hear it over everyone's delight.

"You did it!" You laugh, throwing your arms over his shoulders. You scream in excitement as he hugs you back, lifting you up and spinning you around as people crowd the two of you. You don't think you've ever been happier.

As he lets you down gently, grabbing your cheeks and pressing a kiss to your forehead, you wonder if your parents are watching. You can't wait to get home, to see your family and let them sing your praises for Coriolanus's success in the games. Well, Lucy Gray's success that the two of you get to reap the rewards of.

Then, he's gone, leaving you to gather your things while he goes to see Tigris. You smile, sighing to yourself as you watch. It's likely your father has already sent the car to collect you, so you should probably get going. You're in dire need of a celebratory bath, anyway.

Last night, you had the best sleep you had gotten in weeks. A full eight hours- a privilege you didn't know you missed so bad. Even when you had to get up for school around six, you felt so well rested you knew you could take on the world.

That was until you walked downstairs for breakfast. "Good morning." You grin, skipping down the last couple of steps only to be met with your father hanging up the phone, storming over to you, and shoving you back onto the staircase.

"Sit down. Listen to me." He spits as you groan, holding your head from where it hit the railing and adjusting yourself so you are sitting properly on the stairs.

"Ow... What did I do?"

"You know what you did, Y/N." He hisses, pacing in front of you. "Un-fucking-believable! They went out on a limb for you, and this is how you repay them? Do you even realize what you have done? To me? To this family?"

The poison.

"Dad, I didn't do anything! I had no say in it! Coryo gave her the compact empty- it wasn't our business what she did with it!" You argue, standing up only to earn yourself a slap across the face.

"You were to give her nothing. You knew that." You hold your cheek while he lectures you, and you just nod.

"Yes, sir." You sniff, rubbing your jaw to soothe the sting of your already burning skin. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me- you will apologize to Dean Highbottom first thing this morning and hope he's smart enough to forgive you. Now, go."

You pull your bag back over your shoulder, avoiding eye contact with your little brother and your mother sat at the table as you walked out the door. It looks like you're walking today.

You make it to your first class, obviously not feeling too excited about the concept of speaking with the Dean. Coryo walks in just a few moments after you, stealing the seat at your side. You can't even look at him.

"Good morning." He whispers, pulling his textbook out of his bag. He's in good spirits it seems, but you know that won't last long. "You left in a hurry after the games yesterday, I was hoping we would celebrate together."

When you don't respond, he furrows his brow. Were you mad at him? Had he done something? "Wow, you're a ray of sunshine this morning, aren't you?" He asks, disguising his hurt as a joke. His intention was to come back to you after speaking with Tigris, he wanted to see if you would like to go for a walk or something and discuss everything. He didn't really have a plan, but he didn't want you to leave his side, not yet. The games had ended all too quickly, and you had yet to even discuss what had happened with the kiss you shared. He couldn't let you slip back into a routine of only seeing each other in class and during breaks, he couldn't bear the mere idea of it.

You slam your pen down on the desk, turning to look at him now. "We are in such deep, deep shit, Coriolanus." You hiss, taking notice of everyone looking at you so you quiet down.

"Your... your cheek." He just mutters, leaning in to look closely at the other side of your face and the maroon bruise that now adorned it. Even under your makeup he could see it. "What happened?" He reaches out to gently brush his hand over your jaw and you flinch away quickly.

You sigh, looking around quickly before leaning in closer to whisper to him. "They know, about the poison. We're done for, enjoy your final moments of freedom." You move away quickly as your professor starts speaking and the world begins to crash down around your best friend.

He sits back, face pale as his stomach turns. How could they know? They must have found the compact on Lucy Gray- it must not have been empty. Or was it the cloths in the tank? Those would be easier to find, probably, but how could they be traced back to you?

"We need to borrow Miss Y/L/N and Mister Snow, please." A peacekeeper says as he knocks on the open door frame, eyes quickly finding the two of you.

"It was nice knowing you." You sigh, quickly gathering your things and making your way down to the door.

He follows quickly behind, and for once, your classmates are silent.

A group of three peacekeepers lead you down a quiet hallway of the school, and stop at an open door gesturing for the two of you to enter.

"Ladies first," Coriolanus says softly, stepping aside for you to enter.

"Oh, so now I'm a lady." You scoff quietly, walking into the large open room, the high biology room, with nothing but a table in the center. The table is adorned only with the compact he had given to Lucy Gray, and two handkerchiefs. One of his, and one of yours. How did they get that?

"Kids." Dean Highbottom greets the two of you as the door slams shut behind you.

You open your mouth to speak, taking a breath and he stops you before you get the chance. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, Y/N, but I don't want to hear it."

"No, I think you do." You protest, "Because my-"

"Your father?" He cuts you off. "What about him? Because I just got off the phone with him this morning, and judging by the state of your face, I would argue that I am in agreement with him."

You swallow, fighting the urge to look down and avoid his gaze. If you had any chance of walking out of here without being in too much trouble, you had to prove that you were not afraid.

"Don't you think that she's been punished enough?" Coryo argues, looking between the two of you.

"Coriolanus." He ignores his plea, tapping the table next to the compact. "How many times did I see your mother pull this from her handbag to check her face? Your pretty, vapid mother, who'd somehow convinced himself that your father would give her freedom and love. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, as they say."

"She wasn't." Coryo protests, referring to the Dean's insinuations about his mother. You look at him, but he won't meet your gaze.

"Only her youth excused her, and, really, she seemed fated to be a child forever. Just like the opposite of your girl, here." He gestures to you. "Eighteen going on thirty-five, and a hard thirty-five, at that. Your songbird, too."

"She gave you the compact?" Coriolanus asks, the sadness of betrayal evident on his features at the idea of Lucy Gray handing it over.

"Oh, don't blame her. The peacekeepers had to wrestle her to get the thing. Naturally, we do a thorough search of the victors when they leave the arena." Dean Highbottom explains, tilting his head as he looks between the two of you. "So smart of her, to poison the water Dill drank and dust it over Treech the way she did. If I didn't know better, I would have thought I was watching you, Miss Y/L/N."

You take a sharp breath, making an effort to straighten your posture.

"She claimed that the poison was her idea, that the compact was nothing but a token." He adds.

"It was." You state, though he is likely speaking to Coriolanus.

"Oh, I'm glad to see you got your story straight." Highbottom nods at you, voice dripping in sarcasm. "But I don't believe you. Even if I did, what am I to make of these?" He taps next to the handkerchiefs now next to it. "One of the lab assistants found these in the snake tank last night. Everyone was baffled at first, checking to see if it was one of their own that they had dropped. Until we noticed the initials. Not yours. Your father's. So delicately stitched into the corner..."

You look at Coryo, who is fighting to keep a straight face through his urge to vomit. "Why haven't you made this public?" He asks.

"I know why." You say, crossing your arms and looking the Dean up and down, who just rolls his eyes.

"I was tempted," He ignores you. "Believe me, I was. But the academy, when expelling students, has a tradition of offering them a lifeline. As an alternative to public disgrace, Coriolanus, you may join the peacekeepers by the end of the day."

Coryo's heart drops, as does yours. "The other one, it's hers." He points suddenly to the other cloth, next to his father's. Your jaw drops. How dare he throw you under the bus like that?

"I was getting to that." The Dean sighs as you shoot glares into the side of Coriolanus's head.

"I didn't do that! He took my bag, he took it and put it in the tank- I didn't know anything!" You argue, and he once again raises a hand at you to shut you up.

"Coriolanus, you better hurry. The office closes in twenty minutes, if you run you can make it in time." Highbottom says to your classmate, who just nods and turns for the door. "Oh, and what's that?" He asks, looking up at the skylight. "It's the sound of Snow, falling."

Coriolanus glares at him, pacing quickly out of the door and slamming it behind himself.

You're in shock still over why he would do that to you, but you don't have the time to process it before the Dean is scolding you. "Now, what will happen to you, huh?" He asks, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. "Be honest, did you know?"

"No, sir." You reply, giving a firm shake of your head.

"That's a shame. He really threw you under, huh?" He laughs, mocking you. "After what I saw the other day, I was expecting he would defend you tooth and nail... but no. I mean, he is a Snow, after all."

You don't say a word, just glaring at the man in front of you and waiting for him to tell you your fate.

"Anyway, if it was up to me, you would already be undergoing the necessary procedures to become an Avox. Oh, how I would love to see you without a tongue." He muses, sighing in disappointment. "But I know your father would be embarrassed so I think it best to leave your punishment in his hands, would you agree? Outside, of course, your expulsion."

"You can't expel me!" You shout, fists clenched around the sleeves of your coat.

"Enough of your tantrums, Y/N. You're too old for this. But, alas, you're right. I'm obligated to extend you the olive branch too." He concedes. "You are allowed to graduate under the condition that you work in service for the next ten years. Although keep in mind, your father won't like that."

"Fuck your olive branch! How dare you threaten me like this! I did nothing wrong, we won!" You fire off, practically twitching with anger at this point. "If you won't go public with it, I will! I've got nothing to lose now, the whole country will know what you and my dad are doing! What you're selling! I'll tell everyone! You'll be executed for treason!" You didn't even notice when you started grabbing anything you could reach and launching it in his direction until the peacekeepers were grabbing the back of your arms and dragging you away kicking and screaming. "You'll hang for this!"

You hardly make it to the door before you feel a stab in your neck, and the world fades to black around you.

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[eccentricallygothic]

I am supposed to be studying literary theory but what if Strict Daddy!Curtis Everett…

Pairing: Strict Daddy!Curtis | Bunny Baby!You.

Warning(s): Strict ddlg, Daddy!Curtis, Baby!Reader, fear/intimidation kink (it's Curtis), minor fluff, allusions to punishment and whipping, Daddy kink, pet names, shy reader.

“Bunny!” Your Daddy, Curtis Everett calls as he enters the apartment. His huge form passes through the crack he made for himself before closing it behind him with his foot. “Get in here!” The stuffed paper bag that he holds to his chest crinkles against his leather jacket as he locks the door behind him.

“Bunny!” Curtis calls into the quiet house again when you don't show up like you're supposed to, his dark eyebrows furrowing as he looks left and right before relieving himself of his jacket and discarding the article on the couch. “Little g—”

“Coming, Daddy!” You obediently respond at last, putting your joystick down and rushing out of the bunny cave your loving Daddy made for you. 

A smile makes its way onto Curtis' face when you finally appear on the horizon of his sight. “Careful” he cannot help but instruct out of instinct when you begin to bolt in his direction without a second thought. “Easy, baby” he chuckles at your excitement as his huge form takes a seat on the couch. His words make you come to a screeching halt because disobeying Curtis is never in your best interests. “Now,” he says only once you've fully stopped. “Come here” he holds out a hand for you, his heavily built and tattooed arm stretching in the process. You politely accept his hand and gingerly sit down on his lap, the movement making the silky bunny ears on the top of your head to slide down just a little bit as you do.

Even after all this time and the things Curtis has done to you, your cheeks flush a hot red from how shy he makes you feel.

“I got you something” the baritone of his manly voice is velvet to your ears as he presses his bearded cheek into your arm. 

“Really, Daddy?” You excitedly turn all your attention to the package he is now unwrapping. 

Curtis hums and his long fingers expertly work the paper. Your Daddy is good at knowing and doing everything. “Here, hold it” blood drains from your face and your smile falters when the object comes into view. 

You go speechless, not that you know many words in his presence anyways. 

“So, what do you think?”

You blink as you slowly accept the instrument in your hands, timid fingers slowly feeling its expanse. A whimper is all you can let out when your finger catches on a crevice.

“Do you know what this is, bunny?” You tense up when his muscular arms wrap around your waist, the ink on them nearly causing them to appear as snakes.

You don't know what to say. And you are not sure that even if you knew what to say, you would have wanted to. 

“Of course” the vibration of his mirth nearly caves your shoulder blades in. “Too small and dumb to know such things, aren't you, baby?” Your hands go to collapse so Curtis supports them with one of his own. “It's a bullwhip, baby” the man takes one of your hands in his to help your fingers feel the hide. “And it's a really good one too, hand braided and all, rather expensive.” 

You are nervous, confused and scared. “B- But… w- why, P- Papa?” Your strangled voice is barely audible. 

Curtis smirks when he hears the name you call him. You only do that when you're extremely small or intimidated. 

“For when you misbehave, silly!” He says in a ‘cheerful’ tone but you know him too well. Your back arches and you crane your neck from the sensitivity when Curtis strokes your cheek with the tip of his nose. “Are you going to misbehave, bunny?” Though his words are a sensual whisper in your ear, the menace that they hold is clear as the sky on a sunny day. 

“N- No, D- Dada…” You gulp at how the whip feels against the pads of your fingers. 

“Then we've nothing to worry about” but he knows. And you do too. It is in the smugness of his voice and the wavers of your breathing, the snort he lets out and the way you pout.

It will come. You are bound to slip. He spoils you too much for you not to. And when you do, Curtis will be there. With this very whip between his tattooed hands.

[sshushayla]

whispers of love.

trent alexander arnold x fem!reader. fluff trent who is yours, yours and yours.

Trent looked more astonishing under the sunlight that gleamed through the curtain that did not fully shade your room. He was sleeping on his stomach as his arm was wrapped around you; with the same sleeping position, you only slept a few inches away but you fully felt the warmth that oozed out from his presence.

In his strong arm, you settled perfectly like a puzzle that found its piece, like you were meant to be in his arm. You leaned his head slightly forward to glance at your man who had been sleeping peacefully. Not helping yourself, you gawked at your lover. Your heart ached at the way he had a small pout formed, his thick lips looking more kissable. You had a small smile gracing your face; letting your eyes linger around the long eyelashes that touched his skin.

It only longed you for his doe dark brown eyes to look at you.

You cooed softly, eyes softening at the man who is an extravagant footballer in the eyes of the public, but as the curtain closed, he was just a man who you are immensely in love with, who is your man.

Before you could shake Trent awake, he rubbed his eyes as he slowly stretched his arms briefly to hold you tighter; you laughed as you could almost lay your whole body on top of Trent. Without looking, you knew his face hung with a lazy smile that reached his eyes.

"Slept good?" You asked gently. Slipping away from his grip, you grabbed a random jersey of Trent that was on the floor. He groaned loudly as he used your pillow as leverage to stare at you having him completely whipped.

Trent eyed you moving to his side to sit at the edge of the bed, next to him. "What do you want for dinner?" He asked reaching his arms wide open for you to cuddle him. You considered thinking of a few meals that are worth making or, you could just force Trent to go back to sleep with you.

But you have already gotten out of bed after being lazy for the whole day. In the utter silence, Trent observed you with his soft eyes glancing at every part that he has kissed, adored, and loved earnestly.

You had settled at the edge of the bed next to him, with no words exchanged. You danced your fingertips on his face, your eyes twinkling in adoration for the love of your life; while Trent lay in silence letting you do whatever you want.

He snaked his arm around your waist to move you forward. "You know what you are?" He asked hoarsely after waking up, his hot breath hitting your skin. You giggled, Trent never failed to amuse you with his thick scouser accent that you have grown to understand being around him and his family.

Your hand tightens its grip on his shoulder, raising your eyebrows. "The best thing that has ever happened to you." You lightly tapped the tip of his nose, jokingly. Trent laughed loudly throwing his whole body on the bed. Annoyingly you smacked his chest, "But I am." You persistent, obviously.

He nodded. Trent calmed himself down, "You are, baby. You are."

With that, the room fell into silence again. Your apartment was still new as you just moved in, so the soft curtains were not helping that was shining bright where Trent kept squinting his eyes.

You straddled on his hip, "Is the sunlight bothering you, sir?" You dramatically shielded his eyes away from the sunlight. Trent chuckled, his thick hand running under your (his) jersey. He smoothly ran his fingertips on your naked back as you gasped at his touch.

"Why? Are you going to protect me from it?" He challenged, raising his eyebrows in question. Your whole heart swam in love as you found yourself loving his face once again. Trent did look the most beautiful waking up just next to you, completely fazed out. You threw your head back, "You know I will be protecting you from anything in this world, baby." You confessed, your tone barely hiding the vulnerability of how honest each word was that traveled through your lips.

"You are my girl," Trent established, "right?"

"I am," You pecked his left cheek. "I am," You pecked his right cheek. "I am your girl." You peppered gently kisses all over his face.

"I love you too, now please cook some food for me." He groaned as his stomach rumbled. You laughed, detaching yourself away from him. You made your way toward the kitchen, knowing it would be him cooking, and you would be sitting on the counter watching him cook.

But really, you do not mind living like this for a lifetime.

[sambadgerowart]

I hade a Serperior sketch that I decided to add color to. Wanted to give Serperior a face similar to a long-nose whip snake, with a constrictor body. Still very happy with it! uwu