#mags gets ALL the bitches

[dedsec-pony]

miscellaneous no context doodles time!!!

[spacemancharisma]

my mom cannot Not be the mom from lady bird for literally 20 minutes

[zackcollins]

Golden Beach Cowboy || Cassidy || Overwatch 2 - Season 4 || 04/20/23

[abelllia]

There's one blorbo that doesn't communicate their needs/emotions because they don't want to be seen as a burden to other people. There is another blorbo that doesn't communicate their needs/emotions because they literally can not and find it difficult to communicate them effectively. These two blorbos are dating.

[visceravalentines]

small town, sunday night

Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

a discarded scene from a longer fic. Bo's pretty sure by now you know who you belong to, but he oughta make sure, just in case. on ao3 here if you wanna.

2.4k words. porn with plot if you squint. extremely dubious consent. Stockholm syndrome. forced exhibitionism, voyeurism, vaginal fingering, emotional manipulation. tried out something new where the narration is written more in Bo's voice and i'm interested to see if that works for you or nah so lmk.

The whole family’s gathered in the den on a Sunday night. It ain’t tradition, not really, it’s just that if everyone’s gonna get together it’s gonna be on Sunday. 

Nobody felt like cookin’ and he don’t trust you ‘round the knives yet, so Les picked up some fried chicken from the Kroger and Bo said grace and you behaved yourself like a nice young lady, and now everybody’s sittin’ in front of the television drinkin’ beer and watchin’ football like some kinda all-American family. 

He’s got you sat on his lap in a sundress that belonged to some other bitch before you. It don’t fit you right, barely covers your ass, but that’s fine by him. His brothers keep eyeing you like you’re the skin mag by the cash register. He'll let ‘em look; in fact, he wants them to look. Plus it freaks you out, makes you press yourself against his chest in search of protection and boy, if that don’t make him wanna laugh out loud. He’s all too happy to oblige, wrappin’ you in his arms and whisperin’ sweet sugary bullshit in your ear. You’re servin’ yourself up to him on a silver platter and you don’t even realize it. 

He snags the six-pack off the side table and hands it to you, watches you wrestle a beer from the plastic ring and pop the tab for him without being asked. 

“Good girl,” he says, and kisses your cheek when he takes the can from you. You're bein’ such an angel today that it’s got him nostalgic for that bitch with the bad attitude. He wonders if she's gone for good or if he could dig around in that pretty head of yours and find her. “You want one?” 

You hesitate. He watches you do the math. You know by now you can’t get somethin’ for nothin’, but apparently you think you got plenty to give because you nod quietly. 

“G’on.”  He dangles the six-pack in front of you and lets you pick one for yourself. He watches the way you set your lips on the rim of the can, watches your throat bob as you swallow. Your gaze shifts uncertainly to him and he winks at you. You almost—almost—give him a shaky little smile. 

You adjust yourself in his lap, tug on your dress, try to get comfortable. He rests his chin on your shoulder and waits for you to settle. He likes the smell of his soap on your skin, even if it makes him miss the animal stench of you from before. Bringin’ you home was a good call. You clean up sweet and so far you’ve been learnin’ your lessons real well. Shit, he’s almost proud of you. 

Once you’ve mellowed out, sippin’ on your beer and pretendin’ this is where you wanna be, he slides his hand up your thigh, fingertips twitching at the hem of your skirt. He watches you frown and glance down at his hand and then back up at the TV like you think you can ignore him. He pushes your skirt up an inch or so and bites back a smirk when you shift and squeeze your knees together, shooting an anxious glance in the direction of his brothers. 

“Somethin’ wrong, baby?” he whispers. You answer with your eyes, give him this pleading look that makes him want to tear that dress off you right here, right now. “You’re alright. Watch the game.” 

Reluctantly, you turn back to the TV with this blank expression on your face that tells him he has your full attention. He moves his hand between your legs and gives your waist a hard squeeze when you stiffen. When you glance at him again he treats you to an ice-cold smile. 

This is a test, girl. Better hope you got a shot at passin'.

You’re bare beneath the dress ‘cause what would you need panties for, and he worms his hand between your thighs until his fingers find that soft, warm center of you. You jerk like a mare tryin’ to shake off a fly, but you don’t make a sound. He probes until his middle finger slips like silk into your slit almost up to the second knuckle and Jesus, girl, you’re so wet it makes his mouth water. This is why he never listens to you, because you don’t even know that you’re lying when you do it. 

He eases his finger out of you and back in deeper, watches your lips part but no sound come out. He does it again and your lashes flutter like a doll’s. You’re sittin’ still as a statue for now but he’s gonna break you. Promise. 

“You been so good, baby girl,” he murmurs into the shell of your ear. His thumb prods at your clit and you strangle the life out of a gasp as it tries to sneak into the room. “Wanna make sure you know how much I appreciate you behavin’ yourself.” He rubs that sweet spot in lazy circles and savors the way your back arches slow, so slow, tryin’ so hard to keep it a secret that he’s finger-fucking you ten feet from his family. 

You think they don’t know, huh?  You think they don’t see you’re nothin’ but a slut?  Maybe you oughta think a little less.

You get that look on your face like you’re determined to take back control of yourself but you belong to him, girl, that body is his. When he pushes another finger into your pussy your toes curl on the arm of the chair and this little moan makes it out alive and both his brothers were raised huntin’ so they know what a creature in distress sounds like and all the sudden, you’re the Sunday evening special. 

“Well looky here,” Les says, and wolf whistles. 

Your eyes go wide and you cover your face with your hands and Bo can’t help it, he breaks into a grin. He thought he’d wrung all the shame right outta you by now, but apparently he thought wrong. 

You peer over your fingers at him with tear-filled eyes and this time, you might just be cryin’ for real. You look so betrayed it makes him sick, makes him wish he could take it back just so he can do it to you again. 

“’S alright, baby, they’re just lookin’,” he coos.

“We are most certainly lookin’,” Les agrees, and ordinarily Bo would smack him, but the way your lip quivers makes his dick twitch. 

“Pretend they ain’t even here,” he says low in your ear. “Unless you like that sorta thing. You like bein’ watched, honey?  You some kinda slut?”

He already knows the answer even if you don’t. He can tell by the way that sweet little cunt keeps spasin’ around his fingers like somethin’ dying. And you don’t deny it, just keep beggin’ him to stop with those big doe eyes. He don't gotta work hard to pull your focus back to that ache between your hips. All it takes is a little spit on his thumb, a little less friction on that poor swollen clit, and you’re melting in his hands. 

“I’m just showin’ ‘em, baby,” he whispers. “Just makin’ sure they know you’re mine.” 

He collects your wrists with his free hand and pulls them down to expose your face. You make a sound, some kinda protest, but you don’t fight him off like you used to. That girl’s been buried six feet deep inside you and you’re all that’s markin’ her grave. 

“Hey Vince. Do me a favor?”  Bo tosses his head towards the camera sitting on the coffee table where he left it, a brand-new roll of film ready and waitin’ inside. His twin snatches it up without question and puts his goddamn gift to good use. 

You’re fightin’ it hard, makin’ him work for it, but he knows your body better than you do by now. When you cum, you try to hide it, bitin’ your lip and screwin’ up your face. But you can’t keep that pussy from grippin’ him tight, throbbin’ like your life depends on it. You squeeze his hand. A whine sneaks out of your throat and he catches it in his mouth, swallows it whole, savors it to the last.

You slump against his chest, let your head roll into the hollow of his shoulder because it's got nowhere else to go. You're soakin’ his shirt, soakin’ his hand. You're made of water, girl. Maybe that's why you make him so goddamn thirsty. 

“Well she’s a delight,” Les says, slaps his thighs, stands up. “I'm gonna head home ‘n jerk off unless you gents need anything.”

He has the gall to reach for one of the Polaroids Vince is layin’ out on the coffee table like playing cards and Bo hisses through his teeth. 

“Leave it. I ain't handin’ out souvenirs.”

Les rolls his eyes and slinks off like a stray mutt. Vincent looks for a second like he might make a case for himself, but thinks better of it and rightly so. He hands Bo the stack of photos and creeps back downstairs where he belongs and now it's just you and him and the TV static. 

You're stiff as a board in his arms but you're clingin’ to his shirt with all you got so which is it, woman? He kisses your temple and starts shufflin’ through the pictures. Mama's favorite son ain't immune to the charms of the pornographic and most of them center on the view up your skirt, the curve of your ass, your juice shinin’ on his knuckles. 

But there's one, just one, of your face lookin’ up at him. With these big, round eyes fixed on him and your hands cupped together in front of your chest. You look like you're prayin’, girl. Like you're worshiping him. 

He licks his lips, looks down at you. You’re starin’ straight ahead into space, head on his chest, tits swellin’ against the bodice of that dress as you breathe deep in and out. He can tell you're searchin’ for the way back to that place you used to go, safe and warm without him. 

You can't find it. It ain't there anymore. All you got is what you got.

“Can we go to bed?” 

He’s surprised you’re speakin’ to him. Your voice is low and rough from the tears. You don't look at him until he tucks his finger beneath your chin and tilts your face up. There's somethin’ bright and broken in your eyes like glass. 

“Please.”

He hates givin’ you what you want, doesn't want you gettin’ the wrong idea about who's in control here. He can't be spoilin’ you any more than he already has. But he prizes that look of relief and gratitude you give him when he's generous. That little furrow between your brows that melts away when he's good to you. 

“Sure, baby.”

There it is. You slump against him beneath the force of your relief and fuck you for the way his hands move to hold you without him thinkin’ about it. 

He don't carry you to bed. You're not a goddamn princess no matter what you might think of yourself. But you drop that dress that ain't yours to the floor and crawl naked into his sheets and when he climbs into bed beside you, you inch your way over ‘til you're pressed up against his ribs. 

He can barely hear you breathin’. You're hardly even there. The old you would be rippin’ into his stomach, thrashin’ fit to snap your own spine. This new bitch, though, she’s manageable. Sweet, even. 

Probably you don't mean for him to hear it but something like a sob sneaks out of you and it gives him butterflies. He rolls onto his side and slings his arm around you. 

“Don't cry, now. You're alright.”

You shrink into him, make yourself small and bite-sized. You need him so bad and he knows it, figures you’re startin’ to figure it out too. What would you do without me, huh?

“Was I too mean, baby?” You choke on those tears and he bites his lip. “I'm sorry…you forgive me?”

You whimper, can't commit. It ain't your fault you're stuck tryin’ to make sense of it all, ‘specially with him feelin’ you up like he is. He can't keep a straight face, grinnin’ into the back of your neck. “I just got carried away, showin’ off my girl.” He pushes his hips against your ass. “You are my girl, right?”

A breath shudders through your body. You arch your back, don't even know you're doin’ it. He wraps his hand around your throat like a collar, nice and snug, squeezes just a little to get you back on course. “I asked you a question. You got an answer for me?”

“Yes,” you whisper. 

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I'm your girl.”

Your voice breaks and whew, he's got blood rushin’ every which way. “Tell me you forgive me.”  

You don’t respond. He tightens his grip just beneath your jaw, brings his lips to your ear. 

“Fuckin’ answer me, huh?  You forgive me?  I gotta hear it, baby doll, or I’ll be up all night.”  

His fingers dig into your flesh. He can feel you shaking like a leaf in the wind with fear or fury or something else he can put to use. He’s grindin’ against that ass, just about ready to flip you facedown and fuck the sense back into you, when you finally give him what he wants. 

He always gets what he wants, baby. Haven’t you figured that out by now?  

“I forgive you,” you rasp, and he loosens his grip and feels your tits press against his arm as you suck in air. 

“Ain’t you sweet,” he says, and he presses a kiss to the side of your head, and when he rolls back an inch or two you scoot right along with him until your back is flush to his chest again, and that’s fuckin’ hilarious, huh?  Just can’t get enough. 

He lays in the dark and feels your breath on his knuckles, feels it hitch, feels it slow, feels it mellow out and go feather-soft, and before he knows it, he’s out like a light. 

You wear him the fuck out, girl. 

[ssweetleaf]

just like heaven.

| part ii |

pairing— best friend’s brother!steve harrington x fem!reader

♡ summary— steve overhears about your disappointing sex life, but soon starts to imagine how good he could make you feel if only you were with him. (based off this ask)

♡ includes— SMUT 18+, male masturbation, kind of perv!steve, praise, breeding kink, basically stevie fucks his fist thinking about you and gets caught in the act, no specific pronouns used, and no use of y/n, i know some people don’t like that, (i gave steve’s sister a name to make the whole thing a bit easier!)

let me know if you’d like a part two! <3

˖ ࣪⭑

Steve was insatiable; hard as a fucking rock ever since he heard you, on your best friend’s bed, fingers flipping through a cosmo mag and smacking on your cherry gum, completely unaware that King Steve himself was eavesdropping on your rather private conversation.

He didn’t mean to listen in, honest, he was just on his way to the bathroom that just so happened to be next to his sister’s room, the door cracked open ever so slightly, just enough so he could see you on your stomach, ankles crossed and swinging behind you.

“It’s just so disappointing, yknow?” You huffed, eyes narrowing when it caught sight of a certain article on page seventeen about spicing things up in the bedroom. “It’s basically non-existent!”

Tiffany sighed, and his brows started to furrow, trying to get a clue on what they were talking about— slowly creeping closer to their door.

“Babe, it can’t be that bad. What happened to that guy that took you out?” She hummed, trying to think of his name, yet seeming to fall short, the boy completely blanked from her mind.

You groaned, pressing your cheek against your folded arms— and if he craned his neck just a little, he’d be able to see the way your puffy folds sucked up the material of your sleep shorts, riding higher and higher up your thighs each time you kicked your legs.

Oh fuck, he was totally perving…

“Don’t even bother— he was so- so-” you grumbled, huffing at the thought of him before finding the right term to describe that son of a bitch. “Self-absorbed.”

Steve arched a brow, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, the sight before him, all cutesy and whiny, it was enough to have his cock rutting up.

“Come on, babe. Spill the beans, I wanna know what happened.”

You sighed, fighting the urge to hide your face in your hands, before flipping the magazine shut.

“He was just selfish, Tiff- he wanted me to do all the work, didn’t even get me ready just kissed me a little.” You scoffed, recounting the memories and his stupid smirk, “and worst of all, he’s a head pusher- way too forceful, shoved it right down my throat without any warning!”

“Oh my god,” Tiff rolled her eyes, nostrils flaring and she didn’t even know the guy. “What a dick!”

“I know,” you spoke, picking at the remnants of your chipped nail polish, “this is why my sex life is so disappointing.”

˖ ࣪⭑

Steve gnawed at his cheek, traipsing back into his bedroom and kicking the door shut, not even bothering to use the bathroom after— not that he really needed to anyway…

Laying back on his bed, the cool sheets squished beneath him, he thought about you— your pretty thighs and the way they squeezed together mindlessly, the soft fat of your hips from underneath your shorts and the curve of your tits that begged to pop out from your too-small tank top.

You were a total babe, so fucking pretty, and so sweet too, he couldn’t wrap his head around how someone like you had a sex life that was so boring.

I could change that, he thought, fuck, his cock throbbed at the thought. He could take care of you, make you feel better than any of those losers you had been with, sating you on his big cock until you were all dumb and tuckered out.

The thoughts he had were swirling around his brain in a constant tizzy, so much so, he hadn’t even realised he had slipped a hand under his briefs, only realising once it started to leak in his palm, pre-cum staining the material and sticking to his skin.

You were on his mind, your tits, your ass, your pretty thighs- it had him hard as a rock, starting to buck into his own hand, teeth clutching at his lips to stifle his groans— after all, the walls were thin, and there was only one that separated Steve’s room from his sister’s.

He wanted to tease himself, pretend it was you that was teasing him with your pretty fingers— trailing his fingertips along his shaft, running up along the thick vein underneath it before swiping a thumb over his mushroomed tip, all swollen and sensitive, leaking even more now he had his hands on himself.

He sucked that same thumb into his mouth, the salty tang of his arousal on his tongue and the sudden image of his face between your thighs, licking up at your slick pussy and suckling at your peaked clit had his hips bucking.

“Fuck—” he gasped, breath hitching in his throat, sweat already ebbing at his hairline and beginning to slip, cheeks all rosey and flushed, all from the thought of you, you, you.

“Drive me fuckin’ crazy, honey-” he was muttering to himself, squeezing his eyes closed and rolling his balls in his palm, playing with him just how he imagined you’d play with them. “wish you were all mine.”

Steve’s fist was tight around his cock, fingers squeezing and pumping it. Up and down, up and down— groaning out into the stuffy air when he thought about your hands stroking at him, fingers barely managing to reach round.

He was leaking, tip bubblegum pink and glistening with pearly beads of pre-cum, dribbling down his shaft and oozing between his fingers, lubing up his cock so nicely— fuck, he thought about your mouth, suckling on him, getting him nice and wet, drooling all over his balls, making a real mess— oh fuckfuckfuck.

“Jus’ wanna fuck you,” he muttered into the air, wishing you could hear him, watch him, “could treat you so well- would spoil you so good.”

He was whining, high and breathy into the stuffy bedroom air, the slick sounds with each jerk were so loud, but he was so pussy-drunk, dumb from the constant swirly thoughts of you, big love hearts pumping in his eyes, he couldn’t find it in him to really care about how loud he was starting to get.

He started to slow down, he had to, already so close to coming, he took his fist away and swirled his fingertips along his cock-head, watching the way his muscles clenched with hooded and hazy eyes.

Steve thought about you on his bed, underneath him, letting him fuck you into the mattress, muttering pretty praises into your sweet skin— licking and sucking at your neck all the while his fat cock punched into your gummy walls and nudged at that special spot so deep inside.

“Bet you’d be such a good girl.” he sighed, starting to stroke himself once again, but much slower than before. “jus’ wanna- fuck— wanna fill you up with my cum, get you all messy and- shit— give you my fuckin’ babies.”

Oh fuck, picturing you all pregnant, tummy all swollen, letting him fuck you from behind while you both lay on your sides, oh god, he was in too deep, but he couldn’t help it. You’d look so fucking pretty all pregnant with his babies— all full of his cum.

His hips stuttered, thighs tensed and his cock twitched, he was so close, so, so close, bottom lip clutched between his teeth, fist squeezing down and shaking from the stimulation.

“G-gonna cum, oh Christ, gonna fucking’ cum!”

He chased his high, jaw slack and mouth agape while long, hot ropes of his sticky cum painted his stomach and thighs, crying out a mixture of your name and a few curses and he swore he hadn’t came as hard before as he did then.

And it all would’ve been fine— he would’ve settled and cleaned up and just went to bed with a little secret in the back of his mind, though the sight of you stood there when his eyes fluttered open— eyes all glassy and lips in a pout, thighs clenching and a cute little wet spot saturating your shorts… oh no.

“I-I can explain!”

⋆˙⟡♡ inbox me eddie and steve stuff ! ♡⟡˙ ⋆

[phoward89]

Jealous!Coryo x Reader, Odair!Ancestor x Reader.

Series Masterlist

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. That man is a walking blood red flag waving heavily in the wind! engagement (not reader), smut, infidelity, love triangle, manipulation, stalking?, gaslighting, fluff, Head Gamemaker!Coryo, District 4 Cruise Ship Heir!Odair OC. Dark!Coriolanus, Jealous!Coriolanus, Dom!Coriolanus

Chapter 6:

It's been too long since you've been to the spa. You forgot how relaxing it is. And maybe what makes it even better is that Coriolanus is paying for it. That you can have all the treatments your little heart desires and he's footing the bill.

“It's good to see you here again. What happen, did Coriolanus and you get into a lovers spat and he cut off your spa allowance?” The esthetician asked, applying a much needed cleansing jelly mask to your face as you laid down on the comfortable bed like table.

“He's not my lover, Adara. He's actually my boss now, plus he's engaged to Livia Cardew.” You pointed out to your beloved skin goddess, the best esthetician in Capitol City.

“Oh please.” The violet and blonde streaked young lady loudly cackled. “Nobody believes that shame for a lousy minute.”

“What? But they look-” You start to say only for Adara to cut you off with, “Coriolanus looks absolutely miserable next to her in pictures. He seriously looks like he's going to strangle her.” Shaking her head and applying more of the thick vitalizing goop on your face, she adds, “And that blonde shrew might look sweet and smiley next to him but she bad mouths him every chance she gets. Some things she's said has even gone viral on Pan-Tok, Pan-Tube, and Pan-X. She even shit talked him while a bit tipsy on her friend's Pangram Live stream.”

“I didn't know this. Why didn't I know this?”

“Probably since the aspiring Senator Snow doesn't have social media and you only have a Panbook- that you haven't been on in like over a month.”

“Fuck! So she's dragging his name in the mud via social media?!”

“Yes.” Adara confirms while finishing applying your facial mask treatment. “And practically all of Panem hates her.” She informed you while putting cucumbers on your eyes for a finishing touch.

Sitting down in the stool next to your bed Adara, who was a friend of sorts to you, says, “Livia’s worse than her older brother and Livinius is always getting into shenanigans with the two Capitol losers: Odysseus Odair, the pretty boy that drinks too much, and Hector Heavensbee, the stoned cousin of Hilarious Heavensbee.”

“Wait, what? How do you know this?”

“Social media, duh.” The blonde-violet girl rolled her eyes at you, even if you couldn't see them since your eyes are closed with little cucumbers on them. “Girl, you're too young not to be on social media.” Adara seriously told you. “Listen up, after we're done with your mask we’ll do your manicure then your pedicure. And after that you're signing up for all the social media accounts.”

“Yes, I think it's overdue for me to have more social media then Panbook.” You told her, a calculating smile hinting your lips.

Oh you're going to be creating social media accounts, but solely for the purpose of finding out what damage Livia Cardew's doing to Coriolanus’ image. Once you find out, you'll have to tell him and then come up with a plan to address it.

You're hairstylist, Fabian, was currently with another client so you're scrolling on your phone; looking at all the crazy shit that Livia Cardew's been posting on Pangram, while sitting in the lobby of the high end salon. Oh God, she's such a stick up bitch. Such a shrew. She seriously posted a picture of a bubble tea while complaining that they're wasn't enough bubbles in the tea.

Oh hell…

The receptionist was sitting at the front desk, flipping thru a rag mag whenever she gasped. Whatever she saw must be shocking.

Flipping the magazine in half, she held it up to you and said in a scandalous tone, “That farce of a political pony show going on between your Coriolanus and Livia.Cardew’s going to ruin his reputation.” Waving the magazine in the are, she told you, “Look, paparazzi’s got some pictures of her drunk and stumbling on the sidewalk. The accompanying article says the picture were taken while she was ranting to her socialite friends about how her fiance’s a freak in bed that scoffs at her purity ring, asked if he could stick it up her ass to keep her virginity intact, and she even said that Coriolanus has a thing for dirty district women; chased that former singing victor all those years ago just to screw around with her before his fall semester of University.”

“What?!” You loudly exclaimed, jumping out of you seat and rushing over to the reception desk to grab that trash gossip magazine from Xandra. “Oh Andraste’s tit, let me see that!” You curse, snatching up the magazine that's freely offered to you.

As your eyes look at the damning pictures and read the article, the receptionist tells you, “That's one of the magazine's that get delivered all over Panem; even the Districts get it. Particularly the PK bases as I understand.”

“Shit…” You mutter under your breath. You feel both pissed and lightheaded at the sudden revelation of what Livia Cardew's actions mean for Coriolanus' Senate run.

Damnit…

And it was that moment that Fabian’s client left and the stylist with perfectly feathered hair came up to you. “Y/N, it's been too long.” The hairstylist greeted you with a kiss to the cheek, which you returned in kind. Leading you back to his work station, he asked, “It's been over a month since you've had your hair done. Did Coriolanus not like my work last time?”

“No, Fabian.” You shook your head. “We just got into a spat, so we weren't talking “ You explain, taking your place in the salon chair.

“I hope you worked everything out since he called to fit you in; is picking up the tab like always too.” Fabian told you while placing a colorful smock around you.

“We worked things out as best as we could considering I'm his new assistant now. I'm his new campaign manager too.”

“Oh that's wonderful. Now if only we could toss that horrible Livia into that toxic sludge river over in 8 then everything’ll be perfect.”

“Fabian, that's horrible.”

“Yes, but you know it's true. Now, what're we doing with your hair today? Blow out, keratin treatments?”

*I want an entire new look.” You told your hairstylist.

“Ooo, new look for a new era.” Fabian clapped happily.

“I want hair that says I'm a bad boss bitch.” You smirked.

“Oh, honey, I know exactly what you need. Just leave it to me.” Fabian told you before hurrying off to the supply room to grab some supplies to make your hair new and to die for.

Your hairstylist was going to give you new hair that'll be the envy of everyone in the Capitol. Your new hairstyle will even have Coriolanus down on his knees, begging you to take him back. Oh, Fabian knows that what he has planned cut and color wise for your hair’s going to drive Coriolanus up the wall with desire. That he's going to be going crazy when he sees you.

The hairstylist views it as his personal mission to make sure that his best client stays with the only man in the Capitol that encourages his girl to routinely get her hair done. Most men aren't so generous like that when it comes to expensive salon visits every handful of weeks.

After your getting your hair done, you went home and drowned yourself in endless social media posts across various platforms for Livia Cardew. It seems like some were worse then others, but none of them were any good for your best friend. As long as he's connected to her, well, his campaign's going to tank.

You saw that Festus and Persephone weren't following Livia on social media. The newlyweds, whose wedding Coriolanus dragged you a few months prior, seemed to have either never added her, stopped following her, or blocked her from their accounts. You also saw that the couple had started to follow you on the social media accounts that you created earlier in the day with Adara in the spa.

You’re done scrolling thru Livia Cardew's accounts and decide to call Coryo to tell him all about what you uncovered. After three rings he answers his phone with a professional, “Head Gamemaker Snow speaking, to whom am I speaking with?”, before he realizes it's you

“It's me, Y/N.” You tell him as you pop up on the phone’s video screen. “I thought you would've programmed my new number from my application into your phone.” You chuckle while sitting up straighter on your sofa.

“I didn't even notice it, I just hit accept hire after after looking over your education and work history.”

“Oh.” You simply nod.

Before you could even tell Coriolanus why you're calling, he gives you a dazzling smile paired with the compliment of, “I like what you've done with your hair. The new cut and color suits you, my darling rose.”

Fabian was right, the hairstyle and color he gave you was going to drive Coriolanus wild. How did he know, who knows? But right now Coryo's baby blues are flashing with interest and mirth; they're locked into your face- he's in absolute awe of your new hairstyle/color.

A lopsided grin appeared on the platinum blonde's lush lips as he suggests, “Why don't I take you out to dinner to celebrate hiring you as both the Head Assistant Gamemaker and my Campaign Manager?”

“Don't forget your PR Liaison as well, Aspiring Senator Snow.” You teased Coryo, who still hasn't styled his platinum curls yet. “Oh, I did some digging while waiting for my appointment at the salon and found out why your campaign’s tanking.”

“Well, what did you uncover, my darling?” Coriolanus asks, leaning back in his sitting chair. The one in his living room to be exact.

“The problem isn't you, but it's your fiance: Livia Cardew. Everyone hates her.”

“That doesn't surprise me; I hate the shrew too.” The imposing blonde man, who's been your best friend for nearly 2 decades, chuckled.

Shaking your head, you sadly sigh, “Well, I think she hates you more than you hate her considering she's posting a lot of hate about you.”

Coriolanus arched a perfectly shaped brow at your words, causing you to tell him the blunt truth of your discoveries. “She’s spewing shitty remarks here and there; not to mention ranting about you on her friend's Pangram Live.” You take a tiny breath, only to sigh and tell him the most damning information of all. “Oh and then there's a story and some pap pics in a very popular and well circulated rag mag that has her stumbling drunk and ranting to her friends about you wanting to stick it up her ass cause she's wearing a purity; how you have a sexual attraction to district girls too.”

“Fucking hell…” Coriolanus groans, raking his lake hands thru his platinum curls- a nervous habit of his. “That's very damning for my campaign.”

“Yes,” You nod in agreement, “it is.”

“Well, I've been wanting out of the engagement and I've found a way to end it without looking like the bag guy.” Coriolanus told you, his lips in a thin pressed line. “But I can't tell you until we're alone in my car, it's not something I want to talk about over the phone.”

A few hours later you find yourself alone in a sleek, black sedan with Coriolanus behind the driver's seat. Since it's early spring, he's in a light grey suit with a wine hued waistcoat. It pairs lovely and really makes both his platinum hair, whose curls he just lightly gelled to keep from being messy, and his cerulean eyes pop.

“You look beautiful, baby.” Coriolanus smiles, looking between you and the road, as he pulls out of the parking garage.

“Thank you, but flattery’ll get you nowhere. You already complimented me on my dress when you picked me up, no need to do it again.”

“And only you, my darling rose, has the audacity to get your feathers ruffles over receiving multiple compliments from your lover.”

“My lover?” You scoff sardonicly, rolling your perfectly made up eyes.

“Whether you want to admit it or not, it's what we are, Y/N.” Coriolanus tells you, his baritone a bit softer then usual, as his hand slides off the clutch and onto your thigh- a thigh that's covered by the peachy pink skirt of your dress. A dress that was designed for you by Tigris, that had small white roses randomly embroidered on it.

Pushing his large hand off of your thigh, you give him a leveling look and state in a solid tone, “I thought that we're childhood best friends, who had a situationship that got a bit messy, but decided to work together for your political dreams.”

“We're working on our political ambitions. Don't forget, I did promise to make you my First Lady.” The platinum man with looks rivaling that of the gods themselves had the balls to tell you, all the while taking your hand in his. With a smirk, he changed the subject by giving you his opinion on your manicure. “I quite prefer your nails long and red, baby. They look much better then the short French tips you were wearing during our month long absence from each other.”

Of course he prefers long red stiletto nails on you over the short square French tips. Man sure does love red. You're not even surprised about that.

You don't make a comment about him liking your nails, but you do comment on his little making you his First Lady remark. “Last time I checked, Head Gamemaker Snow, the First Lady's married to the President and you're engaged to Livia Cardew.” After the little reminder of his reality, you decided to twist the knife in his heart and hurt his ego (because he broke your heart) by adding in, “Oh, and right now I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth.”

Coriolanus’ Adam's apple felt thick and stuck in the hollow of his throat as a reaction to hearing your cruel words. He knows deep down in is black, head, shriveled up heart why you said that. That you're trying to hurt him because he broke your heart; his promise to you.

Except he's doing his best to right his wrong; to ensure that he keeps his promise to you.

Coriolanus’ Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows down the thickness trapped in his throat. Looking between you and the road as he weaves in and out of traffic lanes, he reveals, “I'm going to get out of my arranged engagement by framing the Cardew's for bank fraud.”

“What?” You blurt out, finding his idea to be a bit brash. “Can’t you just call off the engagement because of irreconcilable differences?”

“No, baby,” Coriolanus shook his head, “I can't just break it off due to irreconcilable differences.” He quickly switched lanes again, cutting off a car and getting honked at. “Livia’s being a frigid shrew and dragging my name in the mud; how do you think me dropping her like a hot potato’ll make me look? Hmm, how would it look for my campaign?”

Turning your head to give him an incredulous look, you ask, “So, what, you're going to destroy the family that runs the Capitol United Bank to effortlessly break off an arranged engagement and to gain sympathy votes for your campaign?”

“Yes.” The icy eyes man smiles widely, like a maniac. “It's a flawless plan, Y/N. I trust that as my right hand woman and future First Lady that I have your complete support with this.”

Honestly, it might sound horrible, but you didn't give a shit about Livia Cardew or her family. If Coriolanus had to destroy the top banking family in the country to end his engagement and save his campaign then so be it.

“You just do whatever you have to do to and when it's done I'll make sure that you come out smelling like a rose in the media.” You told the man next to you as he pulled over, without using his blinkers, into the entrance of the restaurant he's taking you to.

The Capitol Grille.

“Good.” Coriolanus nods while getting into the line for valet parking. “Tomorrow we need to start switching our banking accounts to the Capitol One Bank.”

You've been to The Capitol Grille a few times with Coryo, so when the maitre d greets you both with a smile and ushers you to a cozy table for two, while making the other patrons in line ahead of you wait, you're not surprised.

Coriolanus, like always, orders a bottle of the best wine and some glasses of water for you two. He also orders the go to appetizer for when you dine out at The Capitol Grille: shrimp cocktail. He also orders the usual for you two as well: the chef's suggestion of the slices filet mignon topped onions and wild mushrooms with cream spinach and au gratin potatoes. Oh, and he ordered the infamous Capitol made cheesecake the restaurant’s known for.

You didn't mind him doing the ordering since you two always got the same thing every time he took you out to eat at The Capitol Grille. You'd be shocked if he didn't insist on ordering, truth be told.

The waiter delivered both your glasses of water, wine, and the large shrimp cocktail to share all on one tray. Once he finishes delivering the items and pouring the wine, he assured Coriolanus and you that your food would be out shortly and left.

Coriolanus is fixing you up a small plate of shrimp cocktail and engaging in small talk with you about your upcoming job as his right hand woman in the Citadel whenever Odysseus’ voice reaches your ear from nearby as he smiles disparagingly. “I see it didn't take you too long to move on, sweetheart. But I didn't think you'd be moving on with Satan, or is he who you've been cheating with.”

“Oh, Odysseus Odair, I wish I could say seeing you while out celebrating Y/N’s new job as my assistant is a pleasant surprise, but then I'd be lying and I make it my utmost priority not to lie to or around my childhood best friend.” Coriolanus said in a very cool, calm, and collective way that has just enough zing to bite.

“Your what?” The bronze haired man asked, his voice hitched up in shock.

“I told you that I attended the Academy, Odysseus. Maybe you should've believed me instead of insisting I wasn't on the same level as you and Coryo.” You told your neighbor and new ex while gesturing between him and your Coryo with your hand.

“He what?” Coriolanus blinked his eyes slowly, like an offended cat. It reminded you of a cat you had as a child. Looking at you, he said with so much disdain in his deep baritone, “That manwhore insulted you by insisting you weren't good enough to attend the Academy?”

“Coryo, let it go.” You told him in a whisper hiss while Odysseus’ sea-green eyes bounced between you and the platinum blonde man you're dining with very suspiciously.

“I will not let it go, darling. He insulted you.” Coriolanus whisper hissed back.

Well, looks like chivalry’s not dead at all.

“I have a business meeting I need to attend, Y/N, but I'll call you later so we can talk things out.” Odysseus told you before booking it away from your table (since he didn't want to be around Coriolanus) and towards the table his father Posieden Odair, Mr. Larimer (a wealthy politician and investor) and Mr. Hearst (a wealthy newspaper mogul) was sitting at; waiting for him.

“You better not answer your phone when he calls.” Coriolanus tells you while making himself a small plate of shrimp cocktail with jerky, aggravated movements.

Grabbing a piece of shrimp from your plate and dipping it into the red cocktail sauce, you tell him, “I’ll answer it if I want to, Coriolanus. My relationship’s none of your business.”

Tossing the serving spoon back into the middle of the extravagant crystal serving bowl, causing some of the red sauce to splash up. Coriolanus face skewed up as he watched you eat your piece of shrimp. Taking his and dipping it into the sauce, he darkly chuckled, “I see you're going to play little minx and punish me for my arrangement by having a fling with the sluttiest man in all of Capitol City.”

“What's good for the goose's good for the gander.” You simply smirk, causing the man sitting across from you to nearly choke on his shrimp.

And then, as he's coughing and trying not to die from shrimp going down the wrong windpipe, Odysseus loudly tells somebody at his table to ‘Shut the hell up!’ before storming away from the table, right past yours, and out of the restaurant.

Hmm…

You wonder what happened at his table.

Coriolanus Snow, ever the gentleman, used his pristine white cloth napkin to spit his piece of shrimp that nearly made him choke and die. Folding his napkin and placing it back on his lap, he seriously told you, “He's a spoiled brat; I hope you get seeing him to punish me out of your system real fast because I don't like sharing what's mine, Y/N.”

“Last time I checked I didn't belong to you.” You smugly retorted while eating another piece of your shrimp cocktail.

Coriolanus leaned in close, nearly crossing the table, and declared in a low, dark timbre, “You’ve always been mine, baby. And, as you know, I'm going to ruin a family just to make you my wife; First Lady.”

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @dcylight-fciry @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress @cherrybaird @blurpleuni-squid

[quona]

for loving one --- --- ---

BOY HOWDY AM I EXCITED TO SHARE THIS ONE WITH YOU ALL. This piece is cover art for @thescholarlystrumpet's wonderful 1940s priest AU fic: For Loving One (Rated E on AO3, mind yer tags) ...which you can and should read, asap. Chapter 10 (of 16!) just went up today, and yes, Strumpet does have the whole fic already written and ready to post, so you won't get abandoned on a cliffhanger. For my part, I wanted to call upon some 1940s aesthetics with a little bit of film noir and some Leyendecker-esque vibes. I hope you like my interpretation! Alsoooooo take some time to check out all the things I painted into that stained glass. I had a hell of a time designing it. --- --- --- If you like my art and want to keep seeing more of it, support me! ko-fi | prints | commission --- --- --- Detail shots from the high-res:

With special thanks to the WINGZ Mag/Maggie's Record Shop Ad 1 chat for supporting me through this stained glass adventure (aka listening to my bitching). @goodomensafterdark

[texas-writes]

Calander Girl

Johnny Cage x Model! Reader

I did NOT mean to lake this shit so long. I literally got possessed by a cock demon

Cw: piv sex, adult modeling, oral (m and f recieving) a lot of cum, cum eating, overstimulation

When Johnny Cage had first met you it was a total accident. He’d been way too caught up in a phone call with his agent, bitching about not wanting to work on another rom-com when he walked his happy ass onto the wrong soundstage.

It had taken him a solid minute to register that he was in the wrong place, staring at you laying bare on your stomach, propped up on your elbows with nothing but a cheap American Flag covering your ass. He watched intently as you kicked your foot up in the air with your toes pointed and popped your gum, vintage curls bouncing as you finally looked his way.

Your big doe eyes catch his as he admires you and you bring your thumb up to your red lips to stifle a giggle. Johnny starts as the camera clicks and the flash box goes off, apologizing profusely and ducking off the set. He wouldn’t know it for a while, but he was your lucky break.

The smile you had given him had secured your place as Miss June, that summer’s All American Girl, giving a strong-armed salute in a sailor style swimsuit with a Dixie cap balanced precariously over your victory rolls on the cover of that month’s issue. Your tight body and inviting face was going to “give the American Dream a breath of fresh air” as your photographer had claimed.

Your photos inside the magazine were significantly less wholesome, but still endearing nonetheless, licking whipped cream off of a beater in a white halter and high waisted sailor shorts, you leaning on that god-awful plaster anchor in nothing but stockings, heels and a white bullet bra with your legs strategically positioned to leave something to the imagination, the innocent smile you had given Johnny, and then in the middle, there you were, fully nude in those same heels and stockings, waving a handkerchief above your head with one foot kicked up behind you. “Hello, Sailor,” read the caption above you in a cheesy Americana font.

Nobody was looking at that stupid shit anyways.

When Johnny had walked into the gas station on his birthday, his first birthday alone in who knows how long, he’d decided to get himself a present. Walking to the back and picking up a twelve pack of Modelo and a single Red Bull, he’d found himself at the magazine rack beside the bathroom, leafing through the latest issues of Hustler and Penthouse before landing on his go-to. Playboy. Without looking he plucked it off the rack and made his way to the register, paid for his things, and left eager to get home and enjoy himself.

After he got home and stripped down to his boxers, he crawled into his plush California King and cracked open a beer, tossing his girly mag to the side to enjoy a couple of drinks before getting to business.

Three beers later he’s feeling loose and a little less bad about the whole ‘single’ thing he had going on, he pulls his half erect dick from his boxers, stroking it lazily, and returns his attention to the magazine.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters when he looks down and sees you of all people. He couldn’t jerk off to you, he’d met you for God’s sake. Well, kind of, but it was the principle, really. He tucks himself back into his underwear and sighs, tossing his head back in defeat.

“Well,” he reasons with himself. “It wouldn’t hurt if I just looked.” That’s what you had been there for, to be looked at, no different than him really. Besides, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before on any woman, or you for that matter, and you just looked so damn cute on the cover with your bright eyes and big smile. How could he resist?

He flips through the pages, chuckling to himself at how corny the theme they had given you was. He was however taken aback when he saw what he’d seen just a month prior in front of him once again. That smile, his smile, if he dared, was just as endearing as it had been the first time, making his heart skip a beat. He sighs dreamily and turns the page, unfolding the pages and taking in all of you.

“Hello Sailor, indeed,” he breathes, not quite enjoying the way his cock twitches, making him hastily fold you back up and toss you on the nightstand, grabbing the remote instead. There had to be something good on pay per view.

“Do I have to do this,” you protest, pulling up your jeans and making sure your g-string is tastefully exposed before pulling the French-cropped trans am shirt over your head.

“No, but it’ll be fun, and they’ll be super famous people there too,” Lainey promises, pulling the hem of her dress down to an acceptable just-below-the-asscheek length.

“Yeah. They’ll probably be too famous to recognize me.”

“If you hate the attention so much, why'd you do this? Genuine question, I promise I’m not being mean.”

“I wanted to be an actress, and thought this would get my foot in the door. I just don’t like being recognized only from the neck down.”

“Hey you covered your tattoo on film, so maybe you’ll be alright.”

You look down at the pink nautical star on the inside of your wrist, right on your pulse point and nod. “Yeah. Cause that’s what they’ll be looking at.”

“Ugh, well, I tried. We gotta go before we’re late.”

You weren’t exactly sure what this party was for, or if it was just a happening, but Lainey was the one that found it and she had been in the game longer than you had, so you took her professional opinion. So there you were, leaning against the bar, idly stirring your drink, enjoying the clinking sound the ice makes when you look up and see him.

“Holy shit. Holy shit, Lainey, it’s that guy,” you hiss, wrapping your arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. “The one I told you about.” She looks over her other shoulder, her bottle-blonde hair whacking you in the face in the process. It smelled like strawberries.

“Are you fucking stupid,” she hisses back, giving you the most dumbfounded look you’ve ever seen. “That’s Johnny fuckin’ Cage!”

You peer around her. “Huh? I guess it is. Didn’t notice then. Was too nervous,” you explain, unwrapping a stick of gum and inspecting it.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Go talk to him!”

Before you can protest she’s untangled herself from your grasp and shoved you towards him.

You take a deep breath, shove the stick of gum into your mouth and push yourself the rest of the way, coming up beside him.

“Excuse me,” you call, your voice barely audible over the clamor of the party, but he still turns around, his face lighting up when he notices who you are.

“Hey! You’re that girl, sorry about that, by the way. I’m sure that was embarrassing. My fault really. I was on the phone with my agent. He never listens.”

“Well, Mr. Cage-“

“Johnny, please,” he insists, running his hand through his hair.

“Johnny. If you hadn’t walked onto my set I would’ve never smiled like that and gotten myself here.”

“Oh?”

“You know I didn’t realize it was you until just a few minutes ago. I just saw a handsome guy and got all embarrassed.”

He chuckles. “Same here. The embarrassed part, not the hot guy part. I don’t-” He lets out a defeated sigh and then rolls his shoulders back. “You’re the beautiful one though. You totally deserved to be Miss June. Say, if I bring you a copy would you sign it for me?”

“You want my autograph?”

“Sure, why not. You looked real cute on the cover. I can frame it, say I met you before you hit the big time.”

You laugh and look up at him. “You know, I thought famous people were supposed to be dicks.”

“Me? No way. I can’t vouch for most of these people though. Do you want to act, or do you just do stills,” He asks, taking a step back, seeming to size you up.

“I’m here to act. The stills are just a… temporary detour,” you admit, worrying the hem of your shirt between your fingers nervously.

“You know, my agent? The one I was on the phone with when I had my location mishap? Keeps calling me about this rom-com they want me for and I told him ‘No way, José’ unless they stop trying to pick women that look like my ex-wife to play the girl, you know everyone loves a blonde lead.”

He looks at you and sighs again. He sure sighed a lot for a grown man. Maybe it was nerves? Nah, couldn’t be. He was Johnny fucking Cage, after all.

“Listen if I can convince them to pick you up instead, you’ll be doing me a huge solid if you take it. You in?”

“What’s the catch,” you question, popping your gum at him.

“The catch?”

“Yeah. What’ll you want in return?”

“There is no catch. Studio gets their movie, you get to act and I don’t have to be constantly reminded that my wife left me. Everyone goes home happy. Well, almost everyone. Look, I don’t wa-expect you to fuck me if that’s what you mean.”

“Want?”

His cheeks flush and he gives you a confused look that’s a little too polished to be real.

“You almost said want but then stopped yourself.”

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

“Sure Johnny. Well, either you can keep lying to both of us, or you can get me out of here and get what you want.”

“You fucking serious?”

“Why not? Been trying to leave since I got here.”

He just chuckles and snakes an arm around your waist, tugging you close to him, leaning down next to your ear. “Your place or mine?”

“Your bed’s probably bigger,” you tease, sliding your hand into his back pocket and giving his muscular ass a squeeze as he leads you towards the door.

You glance over at the bar to find Lainey staring at you with a slack-jawed look of disbelief. You give her a shiny white smile and an exaggerated finger wave as you pass.

When you get to Johnny’s car he unlocks it from across the parking garage with the fob and jogs ahead to open your door for you, flashing you a grin as he closes it back behind you. The interior is all brown leather, making you scared to touch anything, so you just fold your hands politely into your lap.

The man of the hour ducks into the car a moment later, hitting the push-button ignition and gives it a rev. “What do you think? Nice huh? It’s an Aston Martin.

“I like the leather. Scared to touch it though.”

“Don’t be. Get comfortable Sweetheart,” he grins, looking over his shoulder as he backs out of the parking spot.

You cautiously unfold your hands and stretch your legs out, leaning back in the seat a bit.

Johnny’s hand slowly crosses the center console of the car and comes to rest on your thigh, rubbing his thumb in wide circles along the rough denim of your jeans. You ease your trembling hand towards his, lacing your pinkie with his.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re shaking.”

“Never been with someone famous. Little nerve-wracking is all,” you reply, giving his pinkie a squeeze.

“I can drop you home if you’d prefer, Sweetheart,” he offers, looking over at you and giving you a softer, more genuine smile.

“I’m okay, really.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, promise.”

When you pull into his driveway you force yourself to not look surprised. You’d known his place would be big, but honestly, that was an understatement. You were so far out of your element that there wasn’t any going back. Sure, you’d been in a mansion before, hell you lived in one, granted it was almost a sorority situation in nature, but still.

Johnny parks in the underground garage and comes around to let you out, snaking his arm around your waist as soon as you’re standing. You give him a soft smile and let your hand find its way into his back pocket again, earning a single laugh from him.

He leads you through the garage and up a small flight of stairs into the living room, gesturing for you to sit on the couch.

“Sooooo, can I get you a drink or something?”

“Such a gracious host. We can drink if you want.”

“Awesome. You like ‘em fruity or straight.”

“Whichever you want.”

“I’m gonna go make daiquiris then. Make yourself at home baby,” he calls, slipping away towards the kitchen. He sounded excited at the prospect of having a fruity little drink. It was endearing.

You kick your shoes off and take them over to the door, lining them up carefully just barely not touching the wall before returning to the couch and folding your feet up underneath you. God, you’re really here sitting on some A-listers couch while he fixes drinks for the two of you. Did this count as a date? No, this was just a hook-up. But why was he doing more than he had to? Maybe? Nah. Well-

Your thoughts were ground to a halt by the sound of a blender full of ice running at full speed. Whatever. You were getting a mixed drink and some (hopefully) good dick, so nothing else really mattered.

Johnny comes back a couple minutes later with two glasses full of vibrant red slushie with bendy straws. He hands you one and flops down beside you, patting his thigh. You debate with yourself for a moment before throwing your legs over his lap, smiling around your straw when he rests his free hand on your knee.

“How long have you been in L.A.,” he questions, taking a moment to bend his straw into a little loop before returning his hand to your leg, higher this time.

“About six months or so. Got the gig with Playboy and moved out here. Thanks for the drink by the way.”

“No problem. Are you staying at the Mansion or do you have your own place?”

“I’m at the Mansion. It’s kind of lame honestly. I have to share a room with another of the bunnies, but apparently things are different now that Coop’s in charge. I think I’ve seen him like, twice ever.” You take a long slurp of your drink and have to fend off a fast-approaching brain freeze.

“Yeah. I heard Hef used to be a real menace. Glad you don’t have to put up with him.”

“It’s nice. Free place to live out here is awesome. We just have to take turns making breakfast for everyone and look good at parties.”

“Not hard for you to do,” he replies, rubbing his thumb along your leg again.

You chuckle at his complement, but can’t manage to fight off the pink that tinges your cheeks.

“Johnny?”

“Yeah baby?”

“You don’t think I’m easy do you?”

“No way. If you were easy we’d be halfway done by now, besides anyone’d jump at the opportunity to come home with me.”

“Conceited much,” you joke, tugging his shirt sleeve with your toes.

“Me? No way,” he teases, giving you a wink

“Sure…”

“How’s your drink?”

“‘S good.”

“Glad to hear it. C’mere,” he urges, wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap and you let him. “You seem like a sweet girl and I wanna treat you right, see where this goes, ya know.”

“Seriously,” you ask, returning your attention to your drink trying to stave off the fresh anxiety bubbling up in your tummy.

“Sure, or it can just be a one time thing if you want. I just don’t want you feeling tossed aside.”

“We’ll see what happens,” you murmur, leaning away, relying entirely on his arm around your waist to put your empty cup on the coffee table before wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. His shoulders relax and he kisses you back, not bothering to pull away as he leans to put his cup with yours so his hands can focus on holding onto you.

The two of you kiss until you’re lightheaded and have no choice but to pull away panting. “Fuck, Johnny, you’re so fuckin’ hot.”

“Mh, that’s you baby. You want to take the party upstairs?”

“Let’s go,” you whisper, grabbing his face and smashing your lips to his again. He smiles against you and gathers you up in his toned arms, carrying you up the stairs.

His room was just as extravagant as the rest of his house, as you had expected. He sets you down and steps back, kicking off his own shoes and disappearing into what you assume to be the closet. You walk over and sit on the edge of his king-size bed, running your hands along the plush black comforter and taking in the painting above the headboard. It was a Warhol.

Johnny comes back out of the closet in just his slacks and sits beside you. “Nice painting, right?”

“Yeah,” you respond almost blankly, before returning your attention to him, noticing his tattoo. He really was conceited, but looking at the rest of him, he had good reason to be.” I’d forgotten about this one. Figure most people have though, everything except for his pop art.”

“What’s your favorite painting?” What an unusually thoughtful question to ask given the situation. It deserved a thoughtful answer.

“Christina’s World. Reminds me of myself in a way, getting to where I want to be by sheer force of will, despite it all.”

“Well, you got there.”

“I still want more.”

“And you’ll have it. One day you’ll look back and it’ll be hard to remember when you didn’t.”

“Can’t imagine forgetting.”

“Didn’t say you’d forget how you got there. You forget how miserable it was because it's paid off. Nothing’s better than that.”

“Sappy.”

“I try.”

“Do you want me to suck your dick?”

His back stiffens and he turns to face you. “Huh?”

“I asked if you want me to suck your dick.”

“Oh, you mean like- actually. I thought you were being facetious. Be my guest- if you want.”

You laugh and slide off the bed, kneeling between his toned legs, bringing your hands to rest on his belt buckle.

“You sound nervous,” you tease, undoing his belt and unzipping his fly.

“It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, me too. I’m probably no good anymore.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine sweetheart.”

Your fingers make quick work of the button on his slacks, finally reaching into his boxers and pulling his cock out. Oh. He was big. It was your turn to be nervous again, gulping and taking a deep breath before pressing a kiss to his flushed tip. You decide to take it slow, peppering him with kisses and kitten licks before finally taking him into your mouth, taking your time to get used to each inch before forcing yourself lower. His fingers work their way into your hair, not forcing your head down, but following along as you take him in. The pants falling from his lips slowly morph into soft whimpers, whining whenever you run your tongue along the vein running down his length.

You make it about three quarters down before you gag and pull away abruptly, making him whine in protest. Hot tears slide down your cheeks and you swallow thickly, holding the back of your wrist to your mouth, fighting the urge to puke all over his spotless white carpet.

“You okay sweetheart,” he murmurs, untangling his hand from your hair and cupping your cheek with it, urging you to look up at him. Your eyes meet his and you find an unexpected softness there.

“Y-yeah. I’m fine. Overestimated myself, I think,” you reply, leaning forwards to take him again, but his hand returns to your hair and tugs you away,

“You don’t have to try again if you don’t want. You did good.”

“Wanna make you cum,” you whine, leaning forward again, not caring about the sore tug at your scalp. His hand just follows your head again, letting you do as you please. You’re more mindful of yourself this time, taking him deeper into your throat at your own pace, not the one you thought he wanted, digging your fingers into his hips to balance yourself.

“Fuck, baby. Just like that, feels s’good,” he groans, pulling his hand from your hair and fisting the comforter to stop himself from just shoving you the rest of the way down. Despite his lack of trying his hips raise up to meet you and he groans deeply when you look up and lock eyes with him. “You’re doin’ so good, so proud of you.”

His praise goes straight to your pussy and you finish taking him in, pressing your nose into the light brown hair trailing down his tummy, scrunching your face up whenever it tickles. It really had been a long time since you’d sucked dick, especially one this big, and you’d forgotten how much you enjoyed it, rutting your hips against nothing looking for any kind of friction, but coming up empty.

“I’m so fuckin’ close, where do you want me to-”

You pull back, hollowing your cheeks and giving his head some attention before taking all of him back in, moaning as his fingertips dig into your scalp as you let him fuck your face as he cums down your throat with a pathetic moan. After a couple more shallow thrusts he holds your cheeks as you pull away from him and swallow thickly.

“Fuck baby, that was amazing. Thought you said it’d been a while.”

You take a ragged breath and look up at him. “It has.”

“You’re a fuckin’ pro. Shit, look at you, so hot, all ruined like that. Come here,” he coaxes, sliding his arms under yours and pulling you up towards him. You let him sit you in his lap and baby you, wiping at your tears and kissing you on the forehead before he stands up and pulls the sheets back, laying you in his bed. You look over and notice the teddy bear sitting against one of the pillows.

“Cute,” you comment, grinning at him when he leans over and knocks it into the floor.

“You didn’t see that.”

“Sure.” He shuts you up with a kiss, slipping his hand under your shirt and tracing his way up your ribs to squeeze your breast.

“Your turn,” he smirks, making quick work of pulling your shirt over your head and dropping it into the floor. “You’re so fucking pretty,” he growls, leaning down to nip at your collarbone.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” you tease, pushing your chest into his greedy hand

“Much better in person though. I’m a hands-on learner.”

You just sigh and let him peel you out of your clothes. He stops when he tosses your jeans off, taking a moment to stare at your g-string.

“What’s this even supposed to cover,” he questions, pulling it off as well, spinning it around on his finger.

“It’s just for decoration.”

“Clearly.”

You laugh and snatch it off his finger, tossing it back at him

“For me?”

“If you want it. Don’t know if you can pull it off though.”

“Baby I can pull off anything.”

He quickly loses interest in the tiny garment and returns his attention to you, bringing a hand between your thighs and leaning down to kiss you, his chest pressing against yours deliciously.

“Johnny,” you whine, rutting your hips against his hand, which has been tracing along everywhere except where you need it. “Don’t tease.”

“Let me have my fun.”

He slides one finger through your folds, ghosting up and down along your clit, taking you in as you squirm underneath him before plunging it into you. You sigh and grind your hips down against his palm, keening when his thumb brushes your clit. His free hand takes its place kneading at your breast, tracing his fingers over your clothed nipple.

“You should take this off too baby,” he murmurs, popping the strap of your powder blue bra. You just arch your back so he can reach behind you to unclasp it, sighing in relief as he pulls it off your body and tosses it aside. “That’s better. You’re so hot baby,”

He eases his finger out of you and returns with another, expertly curling his finger into your sweet spot. When his thumb leaves your clit you groan in protest, accepting his decision when he replaces it with his mouth. His tongue was warm and wet as presses it to you. He groans and quickens his fingers, curling his fingers harshly into your warm sex, his lips locking around your clit making your head spin.

Johnny makes you cum with expert precision, not letting up despite you tugging harshly at his sandy blond hair. He just looks up at you with those big brown eyes of his, smirking against you while he eats you out like a starved man. His fingers have slowed to a steady rhythm and he’s mostly focusing on you with his mouth now. You can feel your body starting to tense again, and you throw your head back into the pillow and let him keep abusing your cunt.

Your second orgasm crashes over you harder than the first, making you dig your heels into the mattress, your trembling thighs squeezing his head, but still, he persists.

“Johnny,” you whimper, digging your nails into his shoulders, but there’s really no deterring him. You felt like you were on fire, your head swimming and every move he made sending shocks through your muscles. Finally he pulls away, moving his thumb back to your clit, rubbing gentle circles over it as he looks up at you. His chin’s coated in your juices and he really doesn’t seem to care. He just watches as you squirm under his touch, flashing you a well-practiced smile when your eyes meet.

The third orgasm makes your vision go white and you reach down, weakly grabbing at his wrist, silently begging for mercy. “‘S too much,” you whine, trying to free yourself from his touch but he just grabs your hip, pulling you back to him, making you fuck his fingers.

“Come on baby, you can give me one more.”

“Can’t.”

“Yes you can. You’re doing so good.”

“J-Johnny…”

“What if I do this,” he taunts, letting go of your hip and pressing the heel of his hand into the soft flesh just above your mons. You cry out and gush around his fingers, going completely limp as he slows his pace to a stop, easing his fingers out of you and moving to lay beside you.

You just lay there, entirely fucked out, your breathing ragged and your cunt squeezing around nothing. Fat tears roll down your cheeks, clumping your lashes and taking what's left of your mascara with them. Johnny runs his hands along your body, making you shiver, but successfully drawing you back to this plane of existence.

He just lets you lay there, feeling your warm skin, smiling at how helpless he’s made you. His cock strains painfully against his slacks so he decides to do away with them, discarding them and his boxers with the rest of your clothes. Finally you’re cohesive enough to have control over your own body and you turn to look at him. He just looks so fucking good, his normally kempt hair a spiky mess from your desprate fingers. His lips are swollen and a deep shade of pink, parted slightly as he breathes. He flashes you another smile and tosses his leg over yours, shamelessly grinding his dick against your thigh.

“Shit,” you sigh. “That was just foreplay.”

“Told you I’d make it worth your time.”

“You weren’t lying. Never cum like that in my life.”

He gives you a cocky smile, giving your cunt a light slap, making you yelp.

“You think you’re ready for the real deal,” He questions, climbing on top of you and kissing you deeply, forcing his tongue into your mouth and licking at the backs of your teeth. He pulls away, his tongue darting out to break the string of spit connecting you as he awaits your answer.

“I’ll take whatever you give me,” you respond, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him down for another kiss, rolling your hips against his.

He just reaches between you and lines himself up, pressing in slowly, giving you plenty of time to adjust. The stretch is amazing and you lock your ankles around his lower back, urging him to bottom out. When he finally does, he just stops, pressing himself impossibly deeper and holding you there.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet. Gonna make me embarrass myself.” he purrs. “Don’t care though. Too fuckin’ good.”

Johnny takes a moment to take in how you look under him and realizes he could get used to the view. Living room sunset be damned, this was his new favorite thing to watch. He looks down to where your bodies are joined, taking note of the bulge in your tummy and the way it pulses when his cock twitches. You were going to be the death of him.

Finally he pulls back, almost all the way out before slamming back into you, setting a punishing pace, digging his fingertips into your hips, eyes fixed on your stomach as he fucked you. Your view wasn’t too bad either, watching his abs ripple as he pounded into you, the way his hair fell down into his face covering his focused expression. Every thrust brushed against your cervix, unbridled moans falling from your lips.

Johnny’s pants slowly morph into grunts that quickly become needy sounds as his pace falters, bringing his hand to your clit once again, urging you to cum before he does. That was your final straw, every muscle in your body contracting as your fifth orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks.

“Fuck,” he growls as he pulls out of you harshly, fisting his cock a couple of times before spilling across your tummy. He looks up at you with an animalistic expression, chest heaving as his fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your hips. He looks around for a second before sitting back on his heels, his eyebrows furrowing. “Fuck it why not,” he mutters, assumedly to himself as his grip releases and he moves to rest on the bed between your legs, tossing your legs over his shoulders.

Your eyes flash with an instinctive fear, and you grab a fistful of his hair to keep him from going back for sloppy seconds. Instead of burying his face between your thighs again his tongue lathes against your torso. You watch him in awe as he laps his own mess off your burning skin, and it's almost enough to make you beg him for a second round just so you can see it again.

When he’s done he crawls up beside you and pulls you into his arms, squeezing you to him and peppering sloppy kisses along your shoulder.

“That was hot.”

“Never done that before. Don’t know why I did. Don’t know how chicks do that all the time. It was uh, not great.”

“It wasn’t bad, probably just ‘cause it was your own. I could tell you eat well.”

He laughs and brings a hand up to brush your sweaty hair out of your face.

“That’s insane,” he replies, grabbing at you as you try to slide out of his arms.

“Let me up, I gotta pee.”

“Oh I’m sure you do.”

You whack him in the chest with a half-hearted backhand and he finally lets go.

“You coming back?”

“Yeah, where’s the bathroom.”

“Straight across from here.” he gestures to the door at the end of the short hallway in his room.

When you come back out he’s already asleep, so you just climb into the bed beside him, smiling to yourself when he throws his arm over you.

You wake up the next morning still in his arms facing him and you stretch, trying to untangle yourself from him. He groans and pulls you closer, his eyes fluttering open.

“Morning sweetheart,” he murmurs. His morning voice is deep and gravely instead of its usual smooth tone. You smile and kiss the end of his nose. “How’d you sleep?”

“Great. What about you?”

“Like a baby. What time is it?”

“I’d know if you had a clock in here.”

“Hey, my bed’s like Vegas baby. Don’t need a clock.”

“Uh, huh. Let me check my phone.”

He lets go of you and you roll over, grabbing your phone out of the floor.

“It’s seven, and I have like, a million texts.” You open your phone and scroll through your notifications. Most of them were from Lainey, becoming increasingly more concerned before the most recent that just read ‘CALL ME’. You just send her a simple ‘I’m still alive’ text before turning your phone back off and dropping it into the pile of clothes on the floor, returning to Johnny’s embrace.

“I have three hours before I gotta be somewhere. You down for round two and a shower,” He questions, cocking his eyebrow at you.

“Don’t see why not.”

“Glad we’re still on the same page.”

He rolls on top of you and lines himself up with your still-sloppy cunt, easing himself in, same as the night before. Instead of drilling you he sets a slow pace, kissing you passionately as you pull him impossibly closer. It’s slow and restrained, and if you didn’t know any better you'd say he was making love to you. He brings his hand down to toy with your clit, easing you into cumming on his dick this time instead of demanding it. After you finish he pulls out and finishes himself off into the shirt he was wearing yesterday, wordlessly getting up and tossing it into the closet. He comes back to the side of the bed and reaches his hand out.

“Let's go get cleaned up.”

You sit on the cold porcelain of the toilet lid, watching him intently as he starts the shower, taking your hand and leading you in with him.

“Hey, I only have like, dude smells. Hope that’s okay.”

“At least it's not Axe,” you laugh, wetting your hair and turning around to let him shampoo it, which he gladly does. The two of you spend about an hour in the shower enjoying the hot water, washing each other, and kissing. Finally you manage to separate long enough to get out and dry off. Johnny goes and gets dressed in the closet and you just put on your clothes from the night before. He comes back out and you admire how well-tailored his shirt is.

“Come on, I’ll make us breakfast before I gotta go. I’ll call you a ride home, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

He makes omelets for the two of you and you take seats next to each other at the dining room table to eat. After you’re done he takes the dishes into the kitchen and calls your ride for you.

“Where’s your phone?”

“ In my pocket, why?”

“Wanna give you my number so you can call me up whenever.”

You open your phone up to the new contact screen and he enters his number, saving it under ‘Johnny 😎’ and handing it back to you.

His phone dings and he checks it, looking up at you. “Your ride’s here. Text me when you get home safe, okay,” he insists, leading you to the door and giving you one more quick kiss before sending you to the car waiting in the driveway, waving as you duck in.

When you get home you let yourself in and lock the door behind you, trying your damnedest to not look like you were doing the walk of shame. Lainey’s standing at the top of the stairs in her fluffy pink robe staring down at you.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit. You actually did it, didn’t you? You gotta tell me everything.”

You shush her violently and run up the stairs, grabbing her wrist and dragging her into your shared room and slamming the door.

“Dude. Holy shit. He fucked me like he hated my guts.”

“And let you spend the night, and apparently let you use his shower too.”

“We showered together.”

“No shit?”

“No shit. Dude he made me cum like a million times, and then this morning. It felt like I’ve lived with him for years or something. It was just so… natural.”

“That’s… unexpected. Honestly I thought you’d call me to come get you in the middle of the night.”

You sigh and fall backwards onto the bed, pulling your phone out and shooting Johnny a quick text. He responds with a simple ‘👍’.

“He gave me his number. And offered to be my boyfriend”

“Un-fucking-believable,” Lainey breathes grabbing your shoulders and pulls you back into a sitting position, shaking you around. “Do not fuck this up.”

@cael-salad

[saltylandland]

Bro where is this brain rot for Eddie munson emerging from? I just wanna hangout in his van in a most empty parking lot from a nearby city that Eddie drove too, to see a concert. But then the rain got so heavy we decided to shack up in the parking lot for a bit and chill and listen to the thunder.

Then Eddie pulls out a blunt and I ask to take a hit (or two) and then he playfully accuses me of only being friends with him for his weed and I shoot back how often he looks down my shirt and how his hands will sometimes ’slip’ like I don’t notice that shit… then we start to bicker and it somehow ends with me going ‘you want to kiss me so bad’ jokingly but then he does it immediately like I gave permission and he chases my lips when I eventually pull away.

And then,,, then he breathlessly asks if he can ‘just try something’ barely listening to me as I tell him yes anyway, as he pushes me to lay on the floor of the van as he kisses down my body as he tries to eat me out,, like he’s so clumsy with it bc outta all the different porn mags he’s seen only a handful actually have someone going down on a girl 🥹 but but he gets better at it as he learns just how much he loves being between your legs

And now you indirectly created a monster as he just won’t stop at mouthing at your clit and fingering you until you cum against his lips and then some.

OR

After getting high you talk about intimate details and now oop suddenly your unbuckling his belt.

Oop he only begged you for a handjob but now your tracing the veins on his dick with your tongue.

And by god he is loud. He’s loud in general, but he keens and moans like a bitch in heat at the slightest touch. He’s heaving as you slowly take him in your mouth, his hand grasping at the roots of your hair, lightly scratching at your scalp as if his life depended on it.

You can tell that he’s close cuz he bows over you, his hand in your hair keeping you in place as his hips rock stilted and in small circles. His dick throbs in the back of your throat but the sounds he makes are worth it. He would never force you to swallow his cum, he quickly pulls you off as soon as he regains himself again. But if you do, make sure that he watches, you’d think that he’d pass out from how fast he gets a new stiffy.

Like, just listening to the rock radio station play as Eddie humps you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. It’s gross and stuffy in the van, the windows fogging up and the still constant rain helping nothing with the humidity.

Our pretty boy Eddie has all the energy in the world, pushing himself past his limits to watch your face scrunch up with another orgasm, to cum on you again and again, something his fantasies could never do you justice in.

He’s been dreaming of fucking you for forever now, all his wet dreams cantered around you. He’s not entirely convinced that this isn’t a dream so by god will he make this ‘dream’ worth it.

[asterias-record-shop]

𓆩[in our next life || II]𓆪

𓆩[masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[next part]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[join the taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Finnick Odair x Fem! District 4 Victor! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, slight angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 4.1K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Peeta and Katniss weren’t the first to fall in love after the games. That title went to you and Finnick, your mentor after you were Reaped at the age of fifteen two years after Finnick. After being dragged back into the Games with the Quarter Quell, you both are determined to stop it, no matter what- especially if one of you would gladly sacrifice themselves for the other.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - baby bombs (not literally like Gale) || talks of getting pregnant || thoughts of having a baby || reader is like extremely sex positive || Katniss is a bitch at first || Haymitch is lowkey in love with you, but like nicely but like romantically if that makes sense (he thinks you're super hot) || you lowkey hit on Katniss and Peeta || of course cursing and such || smut warnings, being walked in on, Finnick feels guilty during sex, breeding kink, dom! Finnick, sub! reader, degradation and praise, name calling (whore, good girl, bad girl, cum slut, etc.) (All of the warnings I can think of, lemme know if you think i should add anything else! warnings for full fic in the masterlist)

When Mags’ name was drawn, you stepped forward immediately, your voice announcing, “I volunteer as tribute.”

The cheers get louder as they hold up yours and Finnick's hands, but when they let go, he pulls you into his chest, kissing you passionately. You can hear the cheers grow louder, and your eyes water as you pull him lower. You sniffle as he pulls away, stroking his cheek as you look over at Mags and nod. “I love you,” you whisper, but you’re both taken by hand into the back room. She pressed her hand to her lips and blew you both a kiss as you wave. Finnicks hand stays in the small of your back as you see Cinna, hugging him tightly as he sighed.

“It’s good to see you again, Y/N,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “I’m sorry it has to be under these circumstances.”

You giggle, shrugging. “Just make me look good when I’m about to go out, Cinna darling.”

He winks. “That’s what I do best, sweetheart.”

Finnick sighs as he kisses your temple, all of you slowly going to the shuttle where Cinna leads you to the table, softly patting your shoulder. “I have a gift for you both.”

You raise a brow as Finnick pulls you into his lap - he was always more protective around Cinna, even since the beginning of your games where Finnick was your Mentor and Cinna designed your outfits.

Cinna slowly takes out two boxes, opening them to reveal matching gold bracelets. “A gift from Effie Trinket.”

Your nose scrunches as you look over at Finnick who looks up at Cinna. “Effie Trinket, the mentor for District 12?”

He nods. “Yes, the tributes are-”

You giggle. “Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen. The fakest couple in all of Panem,” you look back at Finnick, smiling. “They wish they could be us, darling.”

Cinna just laughs as he slowly takes them out of the boxes and puts them on each of your wrists, smiling. “Now Y/N, you know they’re only doing what they can to survive.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Well then she should be a better actress. It’s sad because he seems so in love with her. I hope he finds someone to love him like he does her.”

Finnick laughs with you, kissing your neck. “Why are we getting gifts from their mentor, hm Cinna? What does she want?”

“For you to make an alliance,” he explains as he slowly sits down. “Is there anything specific we want styled this time around? I’m thinking for the parade we go with something… netty.”

You purse your lips, thinking before looking at Cinna dead in the eye. “I want to get married before the games.”

His jaw drops as Finnick smiles against your skin, your eyes catching the blurring scenery outside of the train. “Married? I get to design the Prince and Princess’ of Panems wedding outfits?!”

You giggle, nodding. “If you would do us the favor, Cinna.”

He inhaled, dramatically waving at his face. “This is going to be amazing. Amazing, I say.”

“I want white,” Finnick says, Cinna nodding as he grabs a sketchpad from… somewhere, Finnick staring down at you with a smile. “It’s going to be the best day in the world when I marry the love of my life.”

His words make you giggle as you press a soft kiss to his lips, Cinna sighing. “I wish it was under better circumstances,” he says, smiling at you both before gasping. “Rings! I need to design rings!”

You giggle as he runs off, looking back at Finnick before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I… I don’t want to meet them.”

He paused, raising a brow. “The District 12 tributes?”

You nodded, but then shook your head. “Any of them. Johanna especially. They all survived their games and were promised that they would never have to suffer through it again, and now,” you inhale shakily as he kisses your temple, shushing you softly. “Now we’re all going back. My nightmares have barely gone away, Finnick, I can’t-”

He shook his head. “No, no darling, calm down. I’ll be there, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You inhaled, nodding into his neck before the blaring voice announced your quick arrival to the Capitol. He stood, carrying you in his arms as you both walked out, immediately being taken to the area where you would be prepared for the games, being cleaned, shaven, everything.

This could’ve been the one thing you missed, gentle hands caring for your body and cleansing you of whatever- it almost made you feel relaxed and calm.

But when you stood in front of the dark horses of the District 12 horses, you felt anything but.

You stroked their face, cooing softly at them as you watched them eat a sugar cube from your palm. You paused when you heard soft footsteps, smiling before looking up at Katniss who stood next to their side.

“Katniss Everdeen, as I live and breathe,” you say, giggling as the horse nudged into your shoulder. She was dressed extremely differently from you, your outfit going along with Finnick’s with a netted bralette covering your chest and a bikini-like bottom covered with a golden threaded net acting as a see-through skirt. You felt exposed, but you had definitely been more exposed to the Capitol’s eyes before. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

She smiled, even though it was obviously fake. She was not a good actor, you could tell that. “Y/N, Panem’s Princess. I never thought I’d meet you.”

You giggle in response, taking another sugar cube from your other hand and giving it to the other horse. “Oh? You’ve wanted to meet me, hm?”

Her face flashed between annoyed and the mask she wore, smiling wider at you. “Oh, always. My mother adored your reality show.”

You hum as you look over your shoulder, another pair of steps heading your way before you see Finnick. “You should work on your acting skills, Everdeen,” you say, turning back and smiling at her. “And your lying skills. They may have fooled Panem, but they will never fool me.”

Finnick comes behind you just as Peeta goes behind her, Cinna already walking toward you both. “I’m sorry you both had to cancel your wedding,” you say, Finnick’s arm immediately going around your waist as he pressed a firm kiss to your jaw. “But I do thank you for it. It gave us, people who are truly in love, space to get married. I hope to see you both there.”

“Now, Y/N, play nice,” Finnick mumbles against your skin, hand wrapping around your throat and squeezing slightly as his teeth graze your cheeks. “We want alliances, darling, not enemies.”

You just giggle, leaning into Finnick’s grip, even though you could feel Katniss glaring a hole into you. You finally look at her, her jaw clenching. “How do people pay for the pleasure of your company?”

You couldn’t stop giggling around Katniss, not when she acted so serious. You put out your hand, watching as she tensed under your touch. “Finnick takes secrets as his form of payment,” you say as he finally lets go of you, leaning close to her ear. “I take bodies. And not in the way you’re thinking.” You squeeze her arm, smiling at her before turning to Peeta. “I hope to speak to you later, Peeta. You definitely seem more fun to talk to.”

You take Finnick’s hand as he leads you away, Cinna quickly coming to fix your outfits before you mount onto your carriage. “Snow wants a show,” he whispers to you both, sighing. “I have a little surprise for our Princess,” he hands you a remote, pointing at the button. “You click this here and everything will happen, alright?”

You nod, smiling as the music begins to play. “Thank you, Cinna.”

He winks at you before jumping off, Finnick quickly taking your hand as the first carriage runs out. You tap his cheek, smiling as he compliantly looks down at you, pulling him down for a firm kiss. He smiled, his hand slipping to your hip before your carriage started to move. You pull away, tongue pushing into his mouth before your carriage emerges and you pull away. You turn back just enough to stare at Peeta and Katniss, winking at them as Finnick grabs your hand.

You wait until you’re in front of Snow to press the button, loud chants of your own and Finnick’s name filling the arena until loud gasps form instead. You look down, the golden net on your body slowly extending, a flowing blue skirt blowing into the wind almost like a waterfall. It extends off the edge of the carriage, long as the cheering gets louder. Your names turned into chants until District 12 came out, but Caesar’s voice was still praising you until the parade ended.

You both walk down the hall when it ends, that was until Haymitch caught you both and introduced you to Katniss and Peeta all over again. “It’s so nice to meet you both,” Finnick says with a grin, pulling you as close as possible to himself. “I wanted to speak to you guys earlier, but my pretty fiancée did all the talking.”

You pout as his hand goes around your throat again, but lean your head back as he softly squeezed. “Forgive me if I came across rude,” you say, smiling at Katniss. “I hope we can be allies in the games.”

Katniss scoffs. “What's the point when you’ll try to kill us?”

You paused, giggling as Finnick kissed your temple. “Nicely, darling.”

“If I wanted to kill you, Katniss, you’d be dead already,” you look at Haymitch, smiling. “I would love to be allies with your tributes if you can get her under control,” turning to Peeta, you wink as Finnick’s lips kiss against your cheek. “I like the boy. He knows when to keep his mouth shut.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” Haymitch nods as you offer your hand, giggling as he takes it and pressed a firm kiss to the back. “I can’t wait to see you in white at your wedding.”

“Oh, you make me swoon, Haymitch,” you say, hand grazing his cheek as Finnick winks. “Guests are required to wear black. Finnick and I will be the only ones in white, even Snow is going to wear black,” you turn to Katniss. “The Princess of Panem has many things under her control.”

“I can see that.”

You giggle as Finnick slowly lets go of your throat, your hand moving away from Haymitch to softly caress her face. She inhaled sharply as you do so, and you purse your lips. “You really need to let loose, Katniss. No one likes a stick in the mud. Finnick, let’s go make love,” you giggle as her eyes widen. “Over and over again.”

Finnick smiles as you take his hand, softly kissing Peeta’s cheek. “See you at the interviews, pretty boy.”

When you’re far enough away, Haymitch sighs. “What I would do to get a kiss from her.”

Katniss scoffs. “What’s her deal? She’s just, like-”

“A princess,” Peeta fills. “A princess of lust.”

“Oh don’t take that to heart,” Haymitch dismissed them both before turning to Katniss. “But you, you better behave. They’re your most valuable allies, Katniss. If they she wants Finnick to fuck her in front of you, let them fuck. If she wants Peeta to fuck her, let him. She’s the Princess of Panem, for fucks sake!” His voice got louder, but he inhaled deeply to calm himself down. “Her sex epitome is an act in some cases. Her and Finnick have gone through things that you are lucky you didn’t.”

Katniss scoffs. “Like what?”

Haymitch pauses, but glares at her. “You will have to speak about it with them. Now, come on, you have some other people to meet.”

You and Finnick, on the other hand, did go to fuck. Your greatest source of shared trauma became your coping skill, and even with how toxic and horrible and down right bad it was, there was nothing you both enjoyed more.

You very well could’ve been obsessed with Finnick, and him with you, but neither of you cared how unhealthy it was- you needed each other like a person needed oxygen, and without the other, you would surely go insane.

You laid on top of Finnick, kissing at his neck as his hand drew patterns along your back. “Do you think I was-”

“They’ll see the true you when the time comes,” he whispers, smiling at you. “And when they do, they’ll love you even more. I swear it.”

You smiled, leaning up to kiss his lips before someone knocked. You pull away, snuggling into his chest as he yells ‘come in’, Cinna walking in with a smile. “They’re ready and they’re perfect. Interviews are in two hours, are you both ready to get dressed?”

You hum, throwing your hair back as Finnick’s hips buck uncontrollably. “One more round, Cinna.”

He laughs. “Okay. I’m coming back in ten minutes!”

You giggled, squealing as Finnick pushed you over, pulling your legs over his shoulders. “Make it fifteen!”

When the door closes, Finnick wastes no time thrusting deeper inside of you, your eyes rolling back as you claw against the sheets. “Fuck, fuck Finnick!”

“You’re a fucking whore, asking for another round,” he basically growled as your mouth lets out loud moans, his form leaning forward to ram his cock into you at a new angle. “You knew I wouldn’t say no, didn’t you? You knew that I was going to fuck you, over and over and over.”

You nodded mindlessly, groaning into his mouth. “Yes! Yes, Finnick, I want you to fuck me. I don’t want you to stop fucking me, fuck, fuck!”

“You’re a fucking, whore,” he grunts, fingers pushing down to press into your cunt with his fingers. Your eyes roll back as his fingers push into you, his thumb rubbing at your clit as his fingers curl inside of you, his cock still pounding into you like a jackhammer. You were so full of pleasure, the moans you previously held back now coming out in full force, cumming on accident with a scream as his thumb pressed on your puffy clit. “Fuck, Y/N!”

You screamed out as he pulled out of you, pulling your ankles from his shoulders as he flipped you around, forcing your face into the pillows as he pushed into you again. “You’re going to cum without my permission? Without telling me? No, not on my watch. I’m going to fuck you until Cinna comes in and you’re not going to cum until that final second ticks.”

“Yes! Yes Fin, fuck!” You wailed as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, moaning loudly as his cock pushed into you before being pulled out and fucked right back into you.

“You’re such a good whore, darling. A perfect cum rag for me to fuck and fill, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes Fin, I’m just here to hold your cum.” You say, groaning as his hips move faster, body bouncing on the bed and your clit rubbing against the silk sheets. How were you going to be able to not cum when he was fucking you so good?

You don’t even notice you were clenching until Finnick says something, his other hand pushing between your clit and the blanket. “You’re clenching around my cock, darling. If you cum, I’m going to fuck you on live TV. Gonna fill you up in front of Caesar’s stupid fucking face. You’d like that though, wouldn’t you?”

His hand forced you to nod, tugging at the roots of your hair as drool ran down the side of your mouth. “Speak.”

“Yes! Yes, Fin, I’d love it, just as long as you fuck me! I promise Fin, I’ll be good!”

“Being good is not cumming until those fifteen minutes are up,” he snarls into your ear, slapping your pussy with a firm hand as he forces you on your knees. “You’re not going to listen to me, darling? That’s a bad girl, not a good girl.”

You shake your head, eager to please. “No Fin, I’ll be a good girl, I swear! I want your cum, I want to be your perfect little cum slut, please!”

He paused, his hand moving slowly as he kissed your shoulder. “I’m sorry, darling, I can’t do rough right now. Can you please just-”

“I’ll do whatever you want, Fin,” you say, turning your head enough to kiss his cheek. “Why don’t I make you cum and we get dressed, sounds good?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t need to finish, darling-”

“Do you want to finish?”

He paused, but nodded. His hips move slowly as you intertwine your hands together, kissing his neck softly as you groan into his skin. “Fuck, Fin, you feel so good.”

“You too, darling, holy shit.”

It doesn’t take him long to cum, his seed painting your insides white as he collapses on top of you, kissing your spine. “I can’t wait to marry you, Princess.”

You giggle, looking back. For a minute, you forgot you could die in the next week. “I can’t wait to marry you, my prince.”

When you both stood at the interviews, you were nervous. Finnick went first, and you watched as he spoke with Caesar effortlessly like he didn’t tell you he would fuck you on live TV earlier. The thought made you smile.

“So, after interviewing some of the other potential tributes from District 4, we got about the same answer for what you and our princess did the night the Third Quarter Quell was announced,” he starts to laugh, leaning forward to pretend to whisper. “Did you and Y/N have some… fun?”

Finnick laughs. “Yeah, Y/N and I did have some fun,” he looks over at you, winking. “But then again, when do we not?”

As much as you hated these fake personas, you couldn’t help but love it on Finnick. You loved the way he absolutely radiated confidence, especially when he spoke about you.

Caesar laughs. “My, Finnick, how forward you are! You and Y/N have always been-”

“Very open about our relationship?” Finnick filled in, smiling. “Yes, our relationship is not only our pride but-”

The crowd chants. “The Pride of Panem!”

“Oh, you are! You both are,” Caesar gets closer. “But should we be careful about letting our children watch the games, Finnick?”

You wanted to scream. Children shouldn’t even be watching the games anyways, but still, Finnick plays along. He grins, flexing his finger at Caesar to bring him closer, the mic as well. “We’ll have a safe word, Caesar. I’ll say it so that the children can leave.”

“Oh, my my! Behave yourself, Finnick, there’s children watching!” He continues to laugh before placing a hand on Finnick’s wrist. “Now, I was told you and Y/N have a bit of a… surprise for us.”

He smiled. “Oh, yes, we do. Y/N and I, we’re…” he looks over at you, exhaling. “We have two surprises.”

Two? What were your two surprises? You knew one was your wedding, but the other?

“Oh? Who doesn’t love surprises?! Now, everyone wants to know, Finnick,” the camera zooms in, Caesar’s perfect teeth smiling almost scarily. “What’s your surprise?”

“Y/N and I are getting married,” he says, cheers erupting from the crowd. “Tomorrow evening. We invite all that are able to come to celebrate with us, our only request is that you wear black,” he smiles. “The only people wearing white will be myself and my bride, as this is the happiest day of our lives.”

Caesar laughs. “Oh, how exciting! I am so excited for you, Finnick, where are the rings?!”

Finnick shook his head. “The rings are still being designed, you will see them tomorrow evening. My second surprise, though,” he looks back at you, smiling. “Is from Y/N.”

Your face scrunched. What was he doing?

“Oh? And what does the Princess of Panem have to say?” He pushed the mic closer.

“She’s with child,” Finnick starts to grin. “My child.”

You gasped, covering your mouth as the crowd went silent. Finnick’s eyes snap to yours, the smile on his face calming all your nerves until the crowd starts to boo. Your heart rate spikes, your breathing getting faster until you hear the words they say. “Stop the games! Our Princess and Prince need to see their baby!”

You exhaled shakily as Caesar laughed awkwardly. “Well, Finnick, I hope you have a great wedding tomorrow and I hope to see you there.”

“Well I’ll certainly be there, Caesar, and I hope you attend.”

He announced Finnick’s name and district before he left the stage, a large bubble filling your chest. Your head began to pound with every beat of your heart, fingernails digging so deep into your palms that you drew blood. You tried to focus on your breathing like Finnick had taught you, but nothing worked.

“Y/N, Y/N darling,” Finnick spoke, holding your cheeks. “Look at me, hey. Only a few more hours, darling, just a few more. I promise you, love.”

You nodded, inhaling deeply with him as he stroked your hair. Your eyes begin to water, but he quickly pats your cheek. “Hey, we don’t want to ruin Cinna’s makeup, do we?” As much as his tone was light and playful, it was much more serious and you both knew it.

“I'm scared, Finnick,” you whisper, inhaling shakily. “I don’t want to go out there.”

“Y/N, where are you, my princess?!” Caesar’s voice was loud, slightly worried before Finnick pressed a kiss to your painted lips. His thumb smudged the lipstick slightly, just enough to take some pigment off but still make you look perfect. “Go, darling, I’ll be right here.”

It takes him shoving you softly for you to go out, a smooth smile immediately gracing your features as Caesar ran to you. You hide your shaking hands in your dress, but Caesar kneels in front of you and offers his hand. You giggled, outstretching your arm for him to take your hand. You quickly fix your face as he kisses the back, holding back a grimace as he looks up at you. “My princess.”

You curtsy, cheers erupting from the crowd as he led you to the main platform. Your dress cascaded behind you, long pale blue that was almost white, a nod to your wedding dress that you were going to wear the next night. He held your hands high as you sat down, announcing the words, “Y/N, the Princess of Panem!”

You close your eyes as the cheers get louder than you’ve ever heard, letting your hand slowly fall to your lap as Caesar lets go. When you open them, you tilt your head back, blinking back tears with a slight sniffle.

“Y/N, darling,” Caesar switched to the mic on his collar, reaching for your hand again with a sigh. “We truly feel for you.”

No he didn’t, none of them did. Even if you were pregnant, none of them understood, none of them felt what you felt. “I’m sure you could try,” you say, sobbing erupting from the dramatics of the crowd.

Maybe there were some true feelings behind Caesar’s eyes, but you didn’t see it. “When you volunteered for Mags, did you know?”

You shook your head. “No, I didn’t. Finnick and I have been attempting to have a family since we ended our show,” you inhaled shakily. It wasn’t a lie, it really wasn’t, but even then, it was horrible. You very well could’ve been truly pregnant from the mornings you were waking up sick, but you fooled yourself into thinking it was just the nervousness of getting out back into the games. “It has to stick when we’re going to die, right?”

Caesar shook his head, his eyes watering as he squeezed your hand. “You… you should not say that,” he whispers, sighing. “You do not think you can win?”

You laughed. “Caesar, the Princess of Panem never loses,” your fake joy comes back as the crowd cheered, but then it turned into boos. “But I would love to think of names for my future child without the fear of dying.”

“One final question, Y/N,” Caesar says as the crowd quiets down. “If you would have known… would you have still volunteered for Mags?”

You smiled. “Caesar, no matter how much I want this child, if they’re not born yet, I want Finnick more. Forever and always. If Finnick goes somewhere, I'm with him,” you look back, inhaling deeply when you see his piercing cerulean toned eyes staring at you. “Until death do we part,” you raise your left hand to him, his own doing the same. “And when we meet in our next life.”

Taglist: 𓆩[@poppet05]𓆪   𓆩[@ennycutie]𓆪   𓆩[@jewelrybean25]𓆪   𓆩[@arzua10]𓆪   𓆩[@savagemickey03]𓆪

next part will be uploaded this Sunday! (and linked in masterlist and the link for next part) (05.14.23)

reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated! I love getting y'alls feedback :)

© asterias-record-shop

[themultifandomgal]

Matt Casey- Hospital Hostage

"What have we got?" I ask Brett who's pushing in the gurney

"John Doe. Gunshot wound to the abdomen. Intubated in the ambo"

"Maggie?"

"Trauma room 2. I'll page Dr Rhodes" Maggie tells me. Before I know it my brother is in the room

"3, 2, 1" he says and we move the victim onto the bed. Connor assessed the wound "we needs to get up to surgery" Connor pulls the railings up on the bed

"YN can you come to the nurses desk?" Maggie asks peaking her head in

"Errm..."

"It's fine go. We'll be ok" April says taking my spot

"If your sure"

"Yes go" I leave trauma room 2 and head to the nurses desk when I see my ex Jordan. Confused I walk over to him him

"What are you doing here?" I cross my arms over my chest

"To bring you home"

"Home? I haven't lived there for 2 years. Since you were having sex with my best friend in our bedroom"

"Come on baby it was a mistake"

"Leave. Now before I call security" I turn around and start to walk away when I hear a click and screams

"Turn around and face me" slowly I turn around to face him "well at least you still fucking listen"

"Oh my god" Maggie gasps putting her hands up as Jordan points the gun at her

"Phones now" Jordan shouts. Everyone in the room pushes their phones towards us "pick them up!" Jordan nods towards Maggie who quickly picks the phones up and walks to the nurses desk

"YN lock the front doors"

"I can't do that. There's sick people on their way here. Put the gun down and we can talk"

"No!" He now points the gun towards me "no it's to fucking late for that. You had your chance to come home"

"So what's your plan here? You gonna shoot me? Because if you do you'll be going to jail for a very long time. You don't want that. So put the gun down" Jordan looks panicked. He looks around the room and grabs a young girl, late teens maybe

"Get down. All of you" he shouts putting the gun to the girls temple

"Ok. Ok" we all lower ourselves slowly. Maggie and I sit next to one another "why are you doing this? Why now?"

"You've moved on. Your fucking someone else. Your meant to be my girlfriend"

"Ok ok you have me. I'll break up with my boyfriend and I'll go with you" Jordan starts laughing like a mad man. He pushes the teenage girl down who crawls back to a woman who I'm guessing is her mother

"No because the only reason you want to come with me is because of this" Jordan waves his gun around

"Fine. Then just take me hostage. I'll go with you quietly wherever you want. The police won't find us, but if you carry this on the police will arrive and there's only one of you"

"Fuck" he groans

"Look around there's so many sick people in here who will die without treatment"

"I can't do that! Fuck!"

"I pressed the emergency button. Intelligence will be here soon" Maggie whispers

"Shut up shut up or I'll shoot"

Sirens are heard, getting closer and closer

"Who the fuck rang the police!" Jordan yells

"Your not letting people into the hospital. Someone outside probably rang them"

"Shut the hell up!" Jordan points the gun to me again

"Mags we gotta get people out of here"

"Got anything in mind?"

"I'll distract him, you get people out the front"

"Ok be careful" Maggie squeezes my hand. I get up and slowly walk over to Jordan

"Jordan please. People are going to die if you carry on. Look I'll go with you, wherever you want to go. I might not be in love now but I'm sure if you took me away somewhere I'll fall in love with you again"

"You don't mean that"

"I do. I promise you I do. Just put the gun down and we can leave together" Jordan holds the gun towards the floor and pulls me into a hug. I wrap my arms around him and look at Maggie who's letting intelligence in. Jordan may not be pointing at anyone now but he's still holding the gun. I pull away from him and take a step back

"Put the gun down!" Voight shouts

"You bitch" I close my eyes and hear a gun shot, but no pain. Slowly opening my eyes I look at the floor and see Jordan's lifeless body

"YN you ok?" Jay walks up to me slowly

"Yeah" I nod my head a little "I'm ok"

"Erin let Matt in he's going bat shit crazy out there" Erin walks out and in runs Matt. I run towards Matt, wrapping my arms around his neck. Tears run down my face as I burry it in his neck

"Shhh shhh your ok. Your ok" he runs a hand in my hair trying to calm me down

"YN take the rest of the day off" I hear Goodwin say to me but I don't acknowledge her

"How did you know what was going on?" I ask Matt

"Voight rang us to be on stand by just in case things escalated. Come on let's get you home" I give a little nod but cling on to Matt as he carries me outside

"Phone if you need anything" I hear Severide tell Matt

"Thank you. See you tomorrow"

With that Matt carries me to his car and drives us home.

[rose-pearls]

Who's Afraid Of Little Old Me?

Summary: winning the games as a Career was supposed to be the best day of your life and yet it all comes crashing down as president Snow makes a radical decision.

Hi! I'm back after some time but I had a bit of a writer block and my bachelor paper was kicking my ass but here I am!! This is inspired by Taylor Swift's song "Who's Afraid Of Little Old Me?" and the reader is Mags grand-child! I'm not sure with who the reader is going to end up with but we will see!

Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @kmc1989, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain

Nothing.

You feel nothing. Not even after they announced you as the winner, the winner of the 75th Hunger Games. 

There was a part of you that always expected it to be the best day of your life, you had been trained for it, groomed, and prepped since you were born.

And yet the only thing you can feel as the final canon goes off is the utter guilt and pain in your chest. The supposed victory gets washed away with a terrible feeling of guilt; your hands that had already been coated with blood were now making you feel sick. 

The knife in your hand falls to the ground just as your legs give up, making you fall to the ground on your knees. Some would see it as a pure relief from the win, but they don’t know how it is the flashes of lifeless bodies that drag you down to the ground.

Each one of your victims’ flashes before your eyes, the sweet girl from twelve, the little boy from district nine and so many others before your final kill, the boy from one. He could have won it; he had the strength and the speed for it but, in the end, he made too many mistakes and the voice of your trainer told you to go for the kill.

“Give them a show” they told you. And as you look around the arena, water lapping around the shore of the beach, reminding you of home you realize that you did. They won’t be able to say that you won by luck, like some say about Brutus. You won like a Career was supposed to.

There are people coming into the arena, first picking up the lifeless body of the district one boy, the last body of the other dead tributes. You realize in the plane back to the Capitol that in the end you killed all of them, doesn’t matter if they died by your hands or not, they didn’t survive the arena, but you did.

Before you know it, you feel a weird sensation, like someone has put some morphine into your body and you fall to the floor. Silently you beg for it to kill you and save you from the all-consuming guilt that hasn’t stopped building up since the last canon went off. 

--

Finnick is looking at you with worried eyes when you finally manage to wake up, his blue-green eyes flicker over your features as if he doesn’t really believe you are there.

“Welcome back winner, it’s good to have your back”, the phrase is said softly, but you can see some form of sadness in his eyes as he looks at you, as if he is already missing something. 

You want to tell him that there is nothing to miss, that you are still the girl you were before you entered the arena, but you have never made a habit of lying so you don’t. 

“Hi,” you simply whisper, your throat feels like it’s on fire and Finnick smiles gently before giving you a cup of water.

“They are going to be bringing you some food later, but I wanted to talk with you before that,” there is a certain unease that follows his words as you see him taking a deep breath.

“What happened in the arena, it could cost you a lot,” you feel confused at his words, not understanding what he could possibly mean by that. 

“When you sang that song to district two boy,” he clarifies, and the memories come back to you, memories perhaps you wished wouldn’t come back. He had killed your district partner once the Career alliance crumbled, and you immediately answered his kill by hitting him in the chest with a knife. But as he looked at you with terrified eyes you suddenly remembered that he was only a 14-year-old child, trying to save himself. You stayed by his side, ignoring your trainers voice inside of your head that told you to leave and never look back, but you couldn’t. You held his hand and started to sing an old lullaby your mother used to sing to you before you left for the academy. 

He had died, his hand griping yours, but a final smile etched on his lips.

“I don’t understand the issue, he was a dying boy who needed reassurance,” you tell Finnick, struggling over the word ‘dying’ and Finnick nods in understanding.

“I know, but President Snow doesn’t see it that way. He sees it as some sort of defiance, and him thinking that is not a good thing,” Finnick whispers and you feel sick at the words, your stomach forming knots.

“What is going to happen?”, you can’t help but ask, deep inside of you some part wonders if he would kill you for that, and that you would be able to not face that small amount of guilt you had felt in the arena that was now coming back in waves.

“You will have to meet him before the crowning ceremony, he wants to talk to you,” the words have a certain tone to them, that tells you that there truly is no choice in the matter.

“Any advice?”, you ask, looking at your mentor who seemed to know everything when you met him.

“Don’t cross him,” he tells you before they come in with dinner and you look at it with uninterested eyes. 

“Just eat what you can, you won’t eat a lot the first few days as your stomach is smaller due to the games,” Finnick tells you that as if you hadn’t known of it, as if they hadn’t told you all about it during your years at the academy. 

When Finnick leaves and everyone else is gone you take the time to lift up your hospital gown, the scar that had been left by a small knife is gone, making your stomach drop.

As you start searching for any signs of the scars from the arena that you had gotten during your days in there you can only find smooth skin. The scar from when you fell down the stairs when you were little is gone, the scar on your leg from one summer ago is gone and every little scar that had lithered your body and made you, you are gone. It’s like they had taken a wipe and wiped you clean, to make you ready for the Capitol. 

You can’t sleep, not like you used to be able to. The familiar faces of the children in the arena follow you and the nightmares follow you one after the other. And as you wake up one final time you find President Snow sitting next to you. You think it’s another nightmare for a moment but the bright light shining into your eyes and the headache starting to form makes you realize that this is real. 

“President Snow, it’s an honor to meet you,” you managed to say, your voice breaking over the words as you haven’t had anything to drink yet. The man gives you a glass of water and you drink it quietly, hoping for it too last longer than it does.

“I wish I could say the same Miss Flanagan,” his words are cold, much like his last name and you try not to shiver at them, but it gets difficult as the silence follows.

“Your grand-mother, Mags, was one of the first victors to come out of the arena and just like you she was seen as a worthy winner,” you can’t help but nod, thinking of your grand-mother who had stayed in district four, unable to look at you in the games while she was in the room watching them.

“However, she seemed to know how to act, from what I have seen you can’t,” the words are slow, precise and cut like a knife.

“I am sorry for what I did in the arena sir, it wasn’t my intention to do something negative,” you try to say, you try to convince him that you didn’t have a thought behind the action you had, except for wanting to reassure the poor boy.

“This system that we have here Miss Flanagan is a fragile one and it needs to be kept stable. A girl from district four singing to a dying boy from two will give people that wrong ideas. It could lead them to think that you are more alike than you think you are,” you manage not to tell him that you all are the same, just kids thrown into an arena, some better prepared than others but still kids. Somehow the president seems to have understood what you were thinking.

“I will only say this once, and I hope you will listen to me. It is extremely important that the system stays stable, and I will not let that system be broken by a girl doing something without thinking, is that clear?”, his voice is colder than before, threats coating his words, making you shiver.

“Very clear sir, I promise you I won’t do anything like that ever again,” you whisper, trying to keep your heart from beating out of your chest.

“And yet your promise isn’t enough,” he tells you, making you want to scream and beg him to tell you how you can somehow fix something you didn’t even knew you had done.

“Being a winner from district four and a winner of a Quarter Quell will get you a lot of attention and I can’t risk you making a wrong step,” you want to tell him that you have Finnick by your side but you stop yourself, unable to talk as if he had taken all your teeth from your mouth, rendering you unable to talk.

“The public has been comparing your games to the one of Haymitch Abernathy, the previous winner of the Quarter Quell,” you remember him, not his games, but the broken man who seemed a bit more alive due to his victors win last year. Everyone had told you at the academy that Haymitch was just a washed out drunk but as you had watched the man closely you couldn’t help but think there was something more.

“People think you would make a marvelous couple and I tend to agree,” his words make your blood turn cold, his eyes calculating but a sadistic smile on his lips makes you think of a serpent, ready to attack.

“I’m not sure I follow sir,” you say after a moment of silence.

“It is quite simple miss Flanagan; I need you out of the spotlight and what better way to do that then to ban you to district twelve by marrying you too the winner of the last Quarter Quell. Sure, the marriage and your engagement will be quite the talk of the town but once that is over and your tour no one will pay attention to you anymore,” you feel your breathing quicken and yet it is as if you aren’t able to get any air inside of your lungs at his words.

“Please sir, I’ll do anything,” you try to plead but the president shakes his head.

“My decision is final, and it is a rather kind one if I do say so myself. Unless you would prefer to do what mister Odair has been doing all these years,” the prostitution, you know about it, it was difficult not to when Finnick would come crying into your grand-mother’s arms after a nightmare. It was the worst kept secret in the academy.

“No sir,” you say, feeling like a puppet on a string, unable to do anything.

“Good. Your engagement will be announced a few days before your tour. I would suggest you start packing your affairs because once you start your tour you will never go back to district four,” he closes the door behind him as if he hadn’t just destroyed your whole life and you can’t help but let out a choked sob. 

The tears that you had been holding back since the arena came falling down your cheeks as the guilt from the arena and the helplessness combined with each other as one. 

[leclerc-s]

big reputations - part six

series masterlist // previous // next

sabrinacarpenter posted new stories

pre-qatar dinner and this dude looks way too fucking happy. is there an off switch or something? cars go vroom! little brother won a race or something? it's like a big deal 3x world champion or whatever jokes aside i'm literally crying?? who knew i would be crying over some silly little men in silly little cars??

alex albon ARE WE GONNA TALK ABOUT WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED YESTERDAY??

max verstappen i kissed daniel, so what?? george russell THAT'S NOT WHAT WE SAW BITCH!!

oscar piastri clearly you were all drunk. i saw max kiss daniel and charles. charles said it was glorious.

charles leclerc it was, i went to my hotel room and i questioned everything. pierre gasly FUCKER YOU KNOW WHAT WE'RE TALKING ABOUT

daniel ricciardo is it suddenly not okay for me to kiss max??

yuki tsunoda HOW COULD YOU KEEP THIS FROM US RICCIARDO!! THIS IS SO FUCKED! THIS IS FUCKING BETRAYAL YOU FUCKING FUCK! YOU DICKHEAD!

esteban ocon is this why max knocked liam out the other day??

max verstappen i didn't knock him out, i simply helped him rest his eyes for a bit. he seemed tired.

alex albon I KNOW WHAT I FUCKING SAW YESTERDAY!!

oscar piastri i think you guys are cra

oscar piastri so these are the famous f1 drivers oscah and sharl cannot shut up about. nice to meet y'all!

logan sargeant oscar? you okay buddy?

max verstappen sabrina, dear god, give oscar his phone back.

oscar piastri KISS MY ASS VERSTAPPEN. I WILL DECK YOU max verstappen when you can reach me, sure. oscar piastri SOMEONE GRAB ME A FUCKING FORK!! max verstappen yup, still can't stand you. oscar piastri OH FUCK YOU SID!

oscar piastri i apologize for her, she isn't house trained.

charles leclercDID YOU JUST CALL ME A BITCH PIASTRI?? YOU'RE FUCKING NEXT!!

charles leclerc added one person

sabrina carpenter now, did you guys seen pierre kiss yuki?

pierre gasly what?

charles leclerc i swear i saw k-mag and and nico kiss

sabrina carpenter oh, you guys are allowed to say nico? i thought that was off limits because of lewis. #ripbrocedes

daniel ricciardo lewis isn't here.

carlos sainz jesus do you people have to talk so fucking much??

sabrina carpenter HEY, I HAVE A BONE TO PICK WITH YOU MR. SAINZ!

carlos sainz who is that? why are they yelling at me?

sabrina carpenter JUST BECAUSE I WASN'T AROUND FOR SPA DOESN'T MEAN I WILL NOT DEFEND MY LITTLE BROTHER OSCAR!

oscar piastri let it go sabrina

sabrina carpenter I'LL LET IT GO WHEN DANIEL LET'S THE CHARLES THING GO!!

carlos sainz what's the charles thing?

max verstappen nothing daniel ricciardo nothing charles leclerc nothing oscar piastri nothing sabrina carpenter nothing

yuki tsunoda STOP CHANGING THE FUCKING SUBJECT! DANIEL JOSEPH RICCIARDO ARE YOU OR ARE YOU FUCKING NOT DATING DAPHNE FUCKING JONES??

daniel ricciardo i plead the fifth

george russell that's a yes to me

alex albon THEY WERE FUCKING MAKING OUT AT THE BAR!! OF COURSE THEY'RE DATING!!

sabrina carpenter no, that was daniel and max. i don't know what you people saw. clearly the tension from when they were teammates got to be too much and now they're acting on their feelings. i really thought it was going to be a lestappen endgame.

oscar piastri okay, you need to get off of f1 twitter seriously.

sabrina carpenter well how else am i supposed to learn f1 lore? and it's not just twitter, tiktok has been very helpful.

george russell just how much time is she spending on f1 twitter and tiktok?

sabrina carpenter "i'm here to fight, i'm here to win, i'm not just going to wave him bye because he's max verstappen in a red bull."

sabrina carpenter "what am i now? i'm heavily depressed." sabrina carpenter "suck my balls mate." sabrina carpenter "nothing just an inchident."

oscar piastri yeah, she's gonna be doing that for a while

sabrina carpenter "bwoah!" sabrina carpenter "james, it's valtteri, fuck you." sabrina carpenter "ALL THE TIME YOU HAVE TO LEAVE A SPACE!"

sabrina carpenter okay, i'm done now. i think oscar was right when he said i needed to step away from f1 twitter and tiktok

oscar piastri you think? i have been receiving an f1 quote from you at least 8 times a day.

logan sargeant free my man oscar, he shouldn't be suffering this way

sabrina carpenter logan sargeant you're next on my list

max verstappen CONGRATS YOU IDIOTS, YOU FUCKED UP!

daphne jones you know, i can see that now, but it's so hilarious knowing the other drivers are losing their mind.

daniel ricciardo the only reason we haven't told them is because you have some stupid plan to get daphne to sing about it at a show.

max verstappen MY PLAN IS A GOOD ONE! TAKE THAT BACK BITCHIARRDO!

oscar piastri what actually is the plan??

sabrina carpenter you know that line in karma, where it's like, "karma is the guy on the screen coming straight home to me?"

oscar piastri yeah?

charles leclerc max wants daphne to change the lyrics to something like "karma is the guy on the track coming straight home to me?"

max verstappen why is that better than what i had?

sabrina carpenter his was "karma is the guy in the alpha tauri coming straight home to me."

oscar piastri DO BOTH!

max verstappen she can't because someone took daniel out of the season

oscar piastri I APOLOGIZED WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME??

daniel ricciardo MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN IT WASN'T HIS FAULT! LEAVE HIM ALONE

charles leclerc wow we really are like a family.

sabrina carpenter max has been promoted to brother-in-law because the entire internet seems convinced that he's fucking charles

daphne jones do you have no filter?

sabrina carpenter i wrote a song called nonsense that's a euphemism for sex. what do you think?

oscar piastri i'm talkin' all around clock. i'm talkin' hope nobody knocks. i'm talkin' opposite of soft. i'm talkin' wild, wild thoughts. you gotta keep up with me. i got some young energy. i caught the L-O-V-E. how do you do this to me?

max verstappen you just know the lyrics to the song?

oscar piastri i googled them.

sabrina carpenter FAKE FAN!!

oscar piastri i never said i was a fan. i just tolerate you.

charles leclerc i can't stand either of you

daniel ricciardo peak older sibling behavior

taglist: @glow-ish @agustdpeach @msolbesg @spilled-coffee-cup @1nt3rnetgf @six-call @smol-scream @fernandoswarcrimes @arieltwvdtohamflash @Mimolovescookies @brekkers-whore @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @chiliwhore

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

¡leclerc-s speaks! yeah, i don't know what this became towards the end. i saw one tiktok and i spiraled towards the end, i'm also a bit sleep deprived. i apologize in advance for this. you can't convince me sabrina carpenter isn't a menace to society, i bet she is.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet. enjoy!

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

Apple pie

my loves!! FIRST OF ALL AS I FINISHED WRITING THIS I NOTICED I HIT 700 FOLLOWERS? I do not deserve the support you guys give me.. AT ALL. Please enjoy this chapter i love you guys so much :((

my masterlist

DISCLAIMER: IF YOU WERE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH NSFW/DARK CONTENT OR ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18 PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT WITH MY BLOG. MUAH.

Warnings: LOTS of angst, mentions of shooting, stabbing, cleaning wounds, and blood. proceed with caution.

Word count: 2,606

“Four is way too early to be here.”

Your coworker Jasmine laughs as the two of you finish doing the dishes together; you nod your head in agreement as you wipe your wet hands onto your apron. The shifts are always like this, though—you, Jasmine, and Fred, the cook.

“Alright, well, that’s enough for me.”

You yell from the break room as you pull off the apron around your waist and hang it onto the hooks by the door. It’s nights like this where you think about Leon. He’s been gone for almost two weeks now, your eyes wandering over his closed windows whenever you’re outside.

The kiss runs through your head every single day,

the way his lips were so soft even though they looked chapped, his fingers gripping your cheeks so gently, yet it felt like he didn’t want to let you go. The long honk pulled you from your thoughts, looking up to see the green light. You put your hand out the window as an apology before speeding through the street, happy to see you were finally on your road. You are the only person on the whole street with a nice lawn. You pull into your driveway, sighing as you tug the keys from your car before you step out and lock it. Usually, in your routine, you start watering your lawn. But your heart pounds in your chest at the sight of Leon’s front door wide open, the hinges broken and the sides of wood cracked and torn. Leon would’ve called you dumb, running towards his house at the sounds of grunting and loud thumps.

Then silence.

The moment you walk into his house it’s just quiet. There’s a bottle of whiskey on the ground shattered to pieces. Leon’s house was huge, the long hallway leading to two other hallways and multiple rooms. You clutch at your purse in fear as your shoes click against his wooden floors. Where did he go? His car is in the driveway.. the doors open.. What if somebody killed him? What if he’s hurt? Your throat goes dry at the thought. Even though you guys haven’t spoken for two weeks, you still couldn’t help but care.

“Leon?”

You’re stupid. You’re so stupid. Your heart was beating so fast it was blocking your capability to hear a scream trying to come from your mouth as a large hand smacked over your mouth. A cheek pressed against the side of your hair as you got dragged into a room, the door shutting. The only sound in the room was your heavy breathing against this hand.

—————————————————-

Leon always stays up, at least till you get home. He knows your shift ends soon, his arms pressing into the cool counters in his kitchen as he pours the whiskey into his cup. Staring down at the dark liquid. The sound of tires rolling makes his head snap up, thinking you were finally home but a black truck rolls just in front of his yard, parking against his curb.

“Son of a bitch…”

His footsteps are fast and heavy. His hand reached down to pull at the small door under his couch, tugging at the duffel bag and grabbing the pistol, checking to see if he had put bullets in the mag. There hasn’t been an incident like this in a long time, he was just thankful you weren’t home. His arms raise as he aims at the door.

But everything happened too fast, coming in from almost every direction, and he could only fire so much. A loud grunt left his lips as one of the much bigger men punched him across the face; Leon’s lip instantly started bleeding as he kneeled over, wiping at his lip as he stumbled through his spare bedroom door. The house was pitch black which made the whole interaction so much more fun, didn’t it? The noises of multiple footsteps running up his steps made him sigh in relief as he pressed his forehead to his door.

“Leon?”

Hearing you call out his name caused every muscle in his body to contract, swinging the door open to see you stepping down the hallway, still in your work uniform. He sees you gasp at the body on the floor, and being the idiot you were, you bend over to check his pulse and see if this stranger is okay.

He read your body language so well, seeing you start to panic as you stand up again, going to call out for him again. He stepped forward, his large hand clamping over your mouth as he dragged you towards the spare bedroom. Idiot. Leon’s never felt himself shake like this, his strength fighting against yours before he shoved you into the wall as quietly as he could, his hand still pressed over your mouth as you panicked against him.

“Are you fucking insane?”

Leon’s tongue is sharp, your eyebrows frowning in concern as you mumble against his hand, reaching up to touch his bleeding lip. Leon grumbles as he turns his head away from you, his hand tightening before he turns back at you.

“Just- don’t talk. Stay silent. Do I make myself clear?”

You’ve never seen this side of Leon. You’ve seen him petty, bitchy even, but never stern. Your head nodded at him before he rested his forehead against the side of your face, pulling his hand off.

He was injured; his cheek was obviously bruised and his arm was cut. He was still in his pajamas, his gray t-shirt lose on him as he caught his breath leaning against the wall. He immediately stands up straight at the sound of shuffling down the stairs.

“He’s gone, we can’t wait, he probably already called in backup.. Let’s leave.”

Leon stood behind you, staring at the door, his finger ghosting over the trigger as he listened to the large group of men shuffles out of his house. The two of you stand there in silence, the sun starting to rise through his curtains as he takes a deep breath, pointing to the bed.

“Sit down and just- stay here. Do not move.”

Leon watched as you walked to the bed, sitting down as your eyes retraced his hurt frame. Leon pressed his ear against the door before he cracked it open and stepped out the door.

You sit in your own silence for what feels like forever, biting at your nails nervously as you listen to the house's silence. A loud thump made you spring to your feet, pushing the door open as you run to the the living room.

You frown as you see Leon holding onto the couch, his chest heaving as he grabs at his ribs.

“Leon..”

For once, he lets his guard down, feeling your hands grab at his shoulders. He immediately reaches for you, allowing you to help him up. He’s much heavier, but that’s too much to think about now. Your hands wrap around his waist as he grips your shoulder as you walk him carefully down the steps, your hand grabbing his as he groans with every step.

When you do reach your house, he’s trying to push you off. Your hands grip him tighter as you drag him to his bathroom.

“Enough, Leon.”

To your surprise, he sits there, your shaking hands digging through your cabinet for your first aid kit. Just stay calm. Stay calm for his sake. You had so many questions, but cleaning him up was the primary importance. You stand up, leaning against your sink as you close your eyes to think for a second.

“Just listen-“

“Shut up, I'm thinking.”

Leon sits quietly, just looking at you, your hands gripping at the sink as you reach past him, turning on the shower. Your hands wiping against your work pants as you grab Leon’s arms, helping him up. It wasn’t in a sexual manner, though you knew Leon probably wasn’t thinking about anything other than the burning pain in his ribs. Your hands tug at his shirt, your eyes growing wide at seeing his bruised ribs. Your fingers gently graze over the patch of bruised skin already forming, Leon groaning as he leans his head on your shoulder.

“It’s okay.. You’re going to be fine Leon.”

You lean him carefully against the sink as you tug down his pajama pants, looking up at the ceiling as you do so.

“C'mon, slow steps..”

You drag Leon by his shoulders as you step him into the shower, your fingers checking the temperature as he stands against the wall. You lean forward, carefully rubbing the water into his arm so the blood can somewhat go away and make cleaning easier.

Leon just watched. Your black long sleeve gets wet as you wash at his skin. He’s a grown man, he shouldn’t be letting you take care of him, not like this.

“Off me..”

Leon groaned as his eyes squeezed shut. He felt the gentle touch of your fingers vanish as you stepped back from the shower. Just don’t bother him. You're silent as you pick up his pajamas, shutting the bathroom door. When he’s in the shower, you run across the lawn, Leon’s blood still all over you as you walk through the destroyed house. When you find his room you dig through his drawer, just grabbing as many clothes as you can.

This is when you realize Leon Kennedy was more than just your neighbor. You didn’t even notice the blood staining your hands. You shook your head as you ran back to your house, locking the front door as you heard the shower stop. You stand outside the shut door, your knuckles brushing against it before you knock quietly.

“Leon? I have some clothes-“

The door swings open, all your first aid materials spread out on the counter as Leon stands dripping wet from the shower, his hair soaked.

“I don’t know what the fuck I'm doing.”

“I noticed..”

You laugh softly as you walk into the bathroom, grabbing the towel that hung from your shower. Leon sits on the toilet again. He couldn’t help but take in the smell of your shampoo from the towel as you rubbed the fabric into his hair and carefully down his arms. You lay the towel carefully onto his lap, covering him hoping to make him more comfortable as you lean down, grabbing the bandages from your counter. You look up at him as you reach behind him.

“It may hurt but lift your arms a bit.”

Leon listens- shockingly. You wrap the bandage around his ribs, pressing the small sticker into the bandage to make it stick. Your hands press at his elbows to lower his arms as you stand up, grabbing the alcohol.

As you clean the cut in his arm, you think about the first night you guys met. The dinner you cooked him, and the way he left.

Leon thought about it too, staring down at the ground as you wrapped bandages around his bicep, just like you did around his ribs.

“Look at me.”

Your voice is so smooth, so calming. He hated to admit you were an angel, and he needed you every single day so badly. And you somehow knew he did every time. Leon looks up at you, your cheeks flushed from moving around so much.

You grab the wet washcloth, straining it into the sink as you lean over, patting the cloth into his lip. Your thumb brushes against the bruise on his cheek. Your other hand reaches up, brushing his hair back as you pull yourself back, grabbing the black shirt you got from his house.

“You went back to the house? You’re so stupid-“

You shake your head at Leon’s words as you lift his arms for him, tugging his shirt onto him before you hand him the sweatpants. You turn yourself to the wall, listening to him tug his sweatpants up as he sighs in pain.

Leon finally gets a look at you, covered in his blood, your hair a mess and your face still flushed. Leon stumbles a bit but manages to stand up. Unlike him, but he follows you like a stray puppy, watching you flick on the bedroom light as you pull the comforter back. It was odd to him to see your room in person. The photos of you and your coworkers all over the wall by your vanity.

“Lay down, I'll get you medicine.”

Leon watches as you walk past him. This was what he was afraid of. Exposing you to things like this, literally covered in his blood and taking care of him. It wasn’t what he deserved.

“I think I'm just going to go home.. It’s early and you work-“

“Leon. Please.”

Your voice was strained, your body stopping in the middle of the hallway as you took in a deep breath.

“Just, lay down.”

Leon’s eyes rolled in frustration as he sat himself down on the bed, groaning as his legs pressed against the soft mattress. The whole room smelled like you, his fingers grazing over your silk pillows, a slight smirk ghosting over his face as he saw the teddy bear on your bed. You’re back fast, faster than he would like because he would’ve loved to admire your space more. You hand him the glass of water and the white medicine.

“Hydrocodone.”

You speak as you hand it to him, his eyebrows raising.

“How do you have hydrocodone..”

“Have you always talked this much?”

Leon laughs as his hand pressed against his ribs, nodding his head as he takes the medication.

“I deserve that.”

You just stare at his hunched-over frame, the slight stubble gracefully growing on his face. How did this happen? If you told yourself a month ago that Leon would be in your bed, you would laugh.

“I’ll be on the couch. Call my name if you need me.”

Leon feels an unfamiliar warmth in his chest as he watches you turn from him. His chest rattled as he stood up, the pain radiating through his body at the sudden movement, causing his head to snap back at the man in confusion.

He just stares at you, your eyes watching him as your chest rises and falls with your tiny breaths. Leon shrugs as he looks down at the bed, his face twisting in confusion as his mouth opens to speak

“Can you just stay? Just till the sun rises fully?”

You look at him in shock before you nod your head slowly, walking to the other side of the bed and laying yourself down. The bed dips as Leon lays himself down looking up at the ceiling. His arm moves to the center of the bed, the rough padding of his fingers brushing against the back of your hand. Your fingers lift slightly as your fingers intertwine with his. The bed shifts as he moves in closer, your arm lifting as he lays his head against your chest, your arm laying against his back as you pat the back of his head, the two of you soaking in the comfortable silence.

tag list!!

@bimbo-baggins86 @karmasshit @cweampier @wh0islyuri @ovaryacted @arianna-irwynarn @smallp00ks @xxacademy @x4ver1a @cryptkillo @darthdidi @askkaitoandkaiko @chop-zulyzulyyy @nymphitrite

[princessbrunette]

omg can you please do headcannons with jj x reader x maggie nsfw or sfw it doesn’t even matter i just need more of them 😩🎀🤍🧎‍♀️

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🍥 so clearly, maggie is the black cat of the relationship, jj is the golden retriever and you’re like a mixture of every adorable baby animal you could think of— which changes by the day. however, despite this — mags is more likely to give you sweeter nicknames like “baby” and “love” and “sweetie” even if she’s using them to grump at you. jj on the other hand is calling you “stinker”, “twerp”, “squirt” and others— but that’s just him, it makes it all the more better when he slips in the occasional “babydoll” or “mama”, the nicer nicknames showing themselves when he fucks you.

🍥 the week is usually split up by who you spend the evening with. they both work together, which is a plus for you because it means you get to see them bond, and you get to go and visit and fawn around the two of them as they fix up old cars. jj likes that you know nothing about vehicles, letting you sit and swing your legs as you watch him, answering all your silly little questions and grinning ear to ear when you tell him that his job looks so hard. maggie on the other hand always tries to get you stuck in, info-dumping about cars and trying to get you to assist her in sticking your hands into the bonnet. jj often passes by, swatting her shoulder with a rag. “kiddos not gettin’ paid, let her be mag, damn.”

🍥 despite their split evenings taking you, you occasionally manage to convince them to both spend the night at yours at the same time. wedged between them in bed as they bicker. “dude, i’m literally pressed to the damn wall. do you need to take up any more space?” maggie complains pushing up onto her elbow to look over you at the blonde who’s eyes widen incredulously. “i’mma roll out the bed!” he defends, voice high making you giggle uncontrollably. “see now you got her laughin’ at me.” he grins, tickling your tummy as maggie huffs, trying to get comfortable in your double bed overran by plushies.

🍥 fucking you is 90% a behavioural thing for maggie. she knows you need it — it calms you down, shuts you up. she’ll grip you by the back of your sundress and strap you into the bed before her afternoon shift, bed creaking in the early noon sun. “you are going to rest today, you hear me? no coming in and distracting jj. take this dick and go back to sleep. we’ll come get you later.”

🍥 whereas with jj, he just wants to be better than maggie. there’s always subtle competition between the two of them. they have the closest thing to a sibling relationship without it being weird because they’re not dating eachother, just you. he starts to eat you out a lot, because it’s the thing he senses maggie is better at than him, and he hates that. he gets so proud of himself each time you cum on his tongue, muttering stuff along the lines of “yeah, tell your girlfriend all about that.”

🍥 maggies an introvert, but she gets dragged to every party and pogue-style evening along with you and jj, who run around her hyper and excitable. she ends up loosening up after a beer or so, and you’re happy to watch her cracking up with jj and john b telling stupid stories about eachother as you watch, sleepily leaning into maggies side and quietly listening.

🍥 maggie and jj are always getting into commotion, especially due to their hatred of kooks. they won’t often hit maggie back because she’s a girl, which she uses to her advantage massively— but she’d likely be able to take them even if they did, having gotten kicked out of school in the few years you knew her as an adolescent for fighting all the time. you still recall having no idea what to do when jj got into it with kelce, shoulder checking him to the ground as they grapple while maggie jumped on toppers back, smacking him in the head and simultaneously calling rafe a ‘pussy bitch’. for the first time, you and the cameron boy just stood dumbfounded, not even knowing where to start.

🍥 maggie and jj do share clothes however, because they dress slightly similar sometimes and all of their clothes ends up in the laundry pile at your house. so occasionally, jj will be sat in an 80s rock band tee, and maggie will be sat in a surf shop muscle tank, even going as far as stealing his many hats when she’s having a bad hair day. as much as they bicker, they kind of morph into the same person at times — which makes you love them more. you recall laying on jj’s bed before a party, your dark haired girlfriend rifling through his closet. “jay, where the fuck are those brown dickies overalls i saw you wearing last weekend? i wanna wear ‘em.” he steps out the bathroom, wearing the overalls in question. “tough shit, girly.” comes out muffled, toothbrush still stuffed into his cheek from his brushing.

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